THE WALKING DEAD
"FAMILY"
CHAPTER ONE
After finishing his breakfast of oatmeal, Daryl Dixon nodded his thanks to the cook Carol Peletier, who sat across from him, eating her own oatmeal. The housewife seemed troubled, but when she saw Daryl's gesture of gratitude, she flashed that elfish smile he had grown to like and he blushed in embarrassment. Daryl quickly picked up the empty bowl, spoon, and the empty coffee cup, got up from his chair and walked over to the two folding tables: the first one had a cooking pot atop it, and the second had a plastic storage bin that substituted for a kitchen sink; he carefully dropped the dishware into the warm, soapy water, and wiped his hands clean on the legs of his torn jeans.
Daryl turned around and looked at the rest of the group eating breakfast in the common room: the group's leader Rick Grimes, sat at a table with his son Carl, farmer and veterinarian Hershel Greene, and Hershel's youngest daughter Beth, who held Rick's baby daughter Judith (or Lil Ass Kicker) in her arms. They were talking amicably as Beth patiently fed a spoonful of oatmeal to Judith.
Daryl looked at the older Greene daughter Maggie and her fiancé the Korean Glenn Rhee. They sat at another table, but they weren't eating breakfast; instead, they were holding hands and whispering to each other like two love-struck teenagers on a date. They're plannin' their next fuck session. Daryl thought to himself angrily. Do they think everyone in this damn group doesn't know they've been fuckin' since the farm? Do they think we're all stupid?!
Daryl looked over at Carol, who sat with her back to him, sipping her cup of coffee, and his anger began to fade. Everyone in the group had suffered since the Turn, but Carol's loss was especially great: last year Carol's daughter Sophia got lost in the woods running away from two walkers. Of the group, Daryl searched the hardest,—and was nearly killed for his efforts— but in the end, Sophia was found moments after the barn massacre at Hershel's farm, in which the walkers the old farmer and his family had collected and locked up were set free by Rick's partner Shane Walsh; the group shot the walkers down as they staggered out of the barn, but the last one to stagger out was Sophia herself.
But even before the Turn, Carol had suffered terribly: Ed, her pig of a husband had beaten her throughout their marriage. Daryl's anger returned slowly and hands balled into fists as he remembered his and his big brother Merle's early days with the group at the quarry outside Atlanta.
•••
The group of survivors sat around the campfire's cold embers while the sun began to descend in the evening sky. Uphill from the camp was retiree Dale Hovarth's Winnebago. Dale himself sat in a camp chair atop his mobile home, the chair's umbrella shielded him from the hot sun and a Remington 700 bolt-action rifle lay across his lap.
Daryl, his hair short, a goatee sprouting on his face, and wearing a sleeveless checkered shirt and dark grey jeans, sat beside his big brother Merle. The others in the group included sheriff's deputy Shane Walsh; beside him was recent widow Lori Grimes, her son Carl, and the young girl Sophia Peletier; other group members included lawyer Andrea and her sister Amy, a Mexican named Morales and his family; a black woman named Jacqui, a black man who went by the street name "T-Dog", a young Korean man named Glenn Rhee, a sullen mechanic named Jim, Sophia's surly father Ed Peletier, and a dozen other people whose names Daryl hadn't bothered to learn.
"Damnit, I'm hungry enough to eat Chinese food!" Merle grumbled as he tapped a spoon inside an empty bowl impatiently.
Glenn, sitting across from Merle, pulled the lid of his baseball cap down on his face in a nervous attempt to hide his Asian features.
"You're all right by me, Merle," Ed laughed. A moment later the heavyset man looked over his shoulder at the Winnebago's open door. "Hey! You got that stew cooked or not?!" he shouted.
Carol Peletier, wearing a tank top, a cardigan sweater, and Capri pants, appeared in the Winnebago's doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. "Almost," she answered softly.
"Then hurry it the hell up!"
Carol didn't reply this time and she stepped obediently back inside the Winnebago. Daryl glared at Ed, Merle snickered, and the rest of the group looked up at the evening sky or looked at the embers in the center of the campfire.
"A man's gotta be the king of his castle," Merle counseled as he rubbed his chin, "I'd give you a shot of whiskey, buddy, but Elliot Ness over there poured out all the booze in camp."
Merle glared at Shane, who glared back with the barrel of his Mossberg 590 shotgun leaning against the crook of his shoulder. "I told you, Merle: we can't let anyone get loud and drunk. We stay quiet and we stay hidden until the army…"
"Yeah, I remember all that shit, man," Merle grumbled as he swatted a hand in Shane's direction. "Stop recitin' it like it's the Miranda warnin'."
An uncomfortable silence hung over the group, until Andrea leaned forward like she was had to whisper a disturbing rumor. "Uh, Officer Walsh—"
"I told ya'll to call me Shane," the sheriff's deputy grinned.
"Err…right. Shane. It might be days until the army occupies Atlanta, and we're going to run out of supplies before then, so what are we going to do?"
Shane looked down at the cold embers and scratched his curly dark hair. "Damn. Good question, counselor. I think if we all shared the food we packed, there'd be enough—"
"What the hell are you talkin' about?!" Daryl asked as he sat straight and looked at the group incredulously. "I'm a hunter! I'm the one who killed those damn rabbits yesterday!"
"Whoa, calm down, Daniel Boone," a surprised Merle said to his little brother. "I don't think these good people are gonna appreciate havin' Bambi served on a diner plate."
Amy shivered in disgust, "Eww. I still can't believe we're going to eat forest animals."
"We could fish!" Andrea announced brightly. "If Dale lets Amy and I borrow his rowboat and fishing gear—"
"Mom, I'm…I'm not really hungry," Carl lied.
Lori—who had her arm around Carl's shoulder—pulled him towards her side, "Carl, you need to eat."
"But, Mom—"
"I don't have anything!" Ed shouted nervously as he waved his hands in protest. "I only packed clothes, not food! Maybe if that mechanic hadn't sat on his ass yesterday, eating beans, we'd have some real food!"
"Hey, I didn't hear anyone asking for your opinion!" Jim shouted. It was one of the few times he had spoken since the group came together.
Glenn raised his hand to get the group's attention, "Uh, guys. I'm not afraid to go into Atlanta and scavenge. I know all about getting in and out places fast. Believe it or not, I'm a—"
Daryl leapt to his feet. "Are you people fuckin' deaf?! I said I'm a hunter! We'll be all right!"
Everyone stopped arguing and looked at the younger Dixon brother. Merle looked at him angrily, and the group looked at him fearfully. Shane huffed as he moved his shotgun to his right hand and stood up. "Is there a problem here?" he asked.
"Shane," Lori said worriedly as she reached up and held the sheriff's deputy's wrist.
Merle chuckled as he stood beside Daryl and put his arm around his little brother's shoulders. "No problem here, Deputy Dawg," Merle grinned. "My little brother's just askin' for some gratitude. I swear to God, would it kill ya'll to say 'Thank you for the meal, Daryl'"?
Merle and Daryl sat down and so did Shane. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Merle whispered into Daryl's ear. "We've got a plan, and it ain't keepin' these people fed with critters and deer until this camp gets overrun by those abominations."
Daryl huffed through his nose but nodded in agreement. Merle grinned and patted his brother on the back.
"Dinner's ready," Carol said as she stepped out of the Winnebago with a stainless cooking pot in her hands.
"It smells wonderful, Carol!" Dale said cheerfully as he peered down from the Winnebago's roof. "Save me a bowl!"
Carol didn't reply and walked over to a folding table and placed the pot atop it. Dale shrugged in disbelief at the mousy housewife's behavior and resumed keeping watch for the dead.
Shane placed his shotgun down on the ground, Glenn pulled his hat up, and the group stood up with their bowls and spoons in their hands and formed a line as they shuffled towards the table while Carol removed the pot's lid and began stirring its contents with a ladle.
"Wait," Lori said to the group with her hands raised to signal a pause.
The group stopped and looked at Lori baffled.
"The kids," Lori said as she looked at Carl, Sophia, and the Morales' children; they had their bowls clasped to their chests or were already holding them in anticipation of a serving. "They should eat first."
Carl, Sophia, and Morales' children looked up at Shane, hoping he would give them permission to stand at the front of the line.
"I'm cool with that," T-Dog said honestly. "I wouldn't be able to sleep if the kids starved."
"Yeah, Mrs. Grimes is right. T-Dog is right, too," Glenn said timidly. "Let the kids eat first."
"Hell, fine by me," Merle grinned. He looked at Glenn and gestured to the front of the line with his hand, "Bon appetite, junior, do you need a bib?"
Glenn fidgeted with the bowl in his hands. "Good one," he said to Merle shyly.
Sophia was first in line, with Carl second, and the Morales children behind them. Carol raised the ladle and poured one portion of rabbit meat, corn niblets, sliced carrots, and sliced potatoes into each bowl. Once the children got their stew, they ran happily to the campfire and waited for the adults.
Daryl was in the middle of the line, and he saw that as Carol raised the ladle, the sleeve of her cardigan sweater would fall down and there was a fresh, purple bruise on her wrist. Daryl was familiar with that kind of bruise. It was the kind of bruise you'd get when someone bigger and stronger wanted to hurt you without hitting you in the face or if there were people nearby to stop it. Daryl was familiar with that kind of bruise because he had seen it on his mother's wrist when company was at the house. Daryl glared at Ed again and his right hand balled into a fist.
It was now Ed's turn to receive his share of stew; Carol raised the ladle and poured a portion of stew into her husband's bowl. Ed looked at the stew in disgust and a moment later glared at his wife. "What the hell is this?" he asked angrily.
Carol shivered. "It's…it's your share, Ed."
"My share? I wouldn't call this a snack! Give me some more!"
Carol dropped the ladle; it fell into the pot and she wrung her hands together frightfully. "Ed, there's barely enough for everyone."
Ed looked to his right at the rest of the group and looked at Carol. "Do you think I give a shit about everyone?" he whispered angrily.
Carol shook her head.
Sophia, watching her parents from the campfire, started trembling; Carl noticed Sophia's behavior and held her hand comfortingly. The Morales children, as well as the adults who had been served the stew—such as Andrea, Amy, and T-Dog—picked at it with their spoons; Glenn, who was next in line, was looking at the ground. Daryl continued glaring at Ed. Merle huffed irritably; more upset over waiting for dinner than a husband threatening their wife. Lori, standing at the rear of the line with Shane, put her hand on the shoulder of her deceased husband's best friend. "Shane, do something," she whispered urgently.
Shane looked at the Peletiers and shook his head. "Lori, it's none of our business," he whispered in reply.
Lori looked wide-eyed at Shane, who avoided her gaze shamefully.
At the serving table, Ed grabbed Carol's bruised wrist and pulled her hands apart. "Listen, bitch," he whispered as he leaned towards his wife, "if you don't give me some more food, I'll give you something to cry about later."
Daryl had seen and heard enough. He dropped his bowl and spoon, pushed Glenn out of the way, and grabbed Ed by the back of his shirt collar and pulled him away from Carol.
"Hey?!" Ed screamed in surprise as his bowl of stew flew out of his hand.
"Ed!" Carol screamed as she clutched her hands together again.
"Goddammit!" Merle shouted as he dropped his bowl and spoon to the ground.
Shane looked up in the direction of the screams. Up on the Winnebago's roof, Dale leapt out of his chair to watch the commotion below. At the campfire, Sophia stopped trembling and her eyes widened as she watched Daryl attack her father.
Daryl threw Ed to the ground as hard as he could. The heavyset man landed with a thud and screamed painfully as a rock stabbed him between his shoulder blades. Ed rolled onto his left side, and Daryl pushed his knee onto the abuser's right side, making Ed scream again and flail his limbs. Daryl grabbed Ed's right wrist and twisted it behind the abusive husband's back. Ed screamed even louder and he was forced to roll onto his stomach.
"You think you're tough?!" Daryl shouted as he applied more pressure onto Ed's wrist. "Try threaten' me, you stinkin' bastard!"
Ed kept screaming in agony as tears began to leak between his clenched eyelids.
"All right, that's enough!" Shane ordered.
Shane wrapped his arm around Daryl's neck and pulled him off Ed, who took his right arm away from his back slowly and looked at the bruise swelling on his wrist.
Daryl dug the heels of his Red Wing boots into the ground and that stopped Shane momentarily, but Shane clamped down on the choke hold and he continued pulling Daryl away from Ed.
"I'm sorry, Ed!" a voice cried. Spots appeared before Daryl's eyes but he saw Carol, crying and running towards her injured husband. The rest of the group walked towards Ed; no one showed the same concern for him as Carol did.
"Hey, you pig! Let go of my brother!" Merle shouted.
A scuffle broke out between Merle and Shane, and Daryl was caught in the middle. Shane released the chokehold and Daryl fell to the ground, gasping for air and his vision spotty.
"Shane! Shane, stop it!" Lori pleaded.
"Shane!" Carl shouted as he ran up the hill towards the man he saw as an uncle.
"Mom!" Sophia shouted as she ran alongside Carl. Carol stood up and Sophia threw her arms around her mother, who hugged her daughter tightly.
Daryl, still catching his breath, sat up; his vision cleared and he looked over his shoulder to see Merle and Shane grappling with one another. They stumbled into the folding table and knocked it over along with the cooking pot and the remaining rabbit stew spilled onto the ground.
"Aw, fuck!" Merle grumbled when he saw the spilled dinner.
"Shit!" Shane hissed through clenched teeth, when he saw the stew was ruined.
Glenn turned around at the sound of the table and cooking pot being knocked over. When he saw the rabbit meat and sliced potatoes and vegetables lying on the ground, he lowered his head and sighed sadly.
Shane and Merle looked at each other and they resumed fighting in an instant. T-Dog, Morales, and a few of the other men ran forward and pulled the two men apart.
"This was your fault, you pig!" Merle shouted as he tried to break free.
"Hey, my idiot little brother wasn't the one who tried to break some asshole's arm!" Shane countered as he tried to break loose of Morales and T-Dog.
Dale, with his rifle slung over his shoulder, climbed down the Winnebago's ladder and ran towards the group. "Will you two be quiet?!" the retiree begged. "Those…things might be in the woods!"
Lori ran forward and stood in front of her deceased husband's best friend and partner. "Shane, calm down," she begged as she placed her hands along the sides of his face.
Shane stared at Lori for a few moments until he nodded. Morales and T-Dog glanced at each other and let go of Shane cautiously. Shane was catching his breath, but he didn't charge
Merle and he nodded to Morales and T-Dog that he was done fighting. The men holding Merle let him go too, but Merle pushed one of them to vent the last of his anger.
"Listen, you Dixons," Shane said as he wiped some blood away from his mouth, "the third rule in this camp is no fighting. So if you boys can't follow the rules, we'll toss your shit in a trash bag and send ya'll down the road with a kick in your asses!"
Merle glared at Shane, but he chuckled and raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. "I hear you, officer. My hearin' is just as good as my memory, savvy?"
Merle walked over to Daryl, who had just caught his breath and was rising to his feet. Merle slapped his arm around his little brother's shoulders, spun him around, and together they began walking downhill.
"What the hell was that chivalry all about?" Merle asked.
Daryl huffed. "Come on, man. You saw the bruise on her wrist. Who do you think put it there?"
"Yeah, I saw it," Merle nodded. "But it ain't our concern."
Daryl stopped in his tracks and looked at Merle wide-eyed. "What?" he asked.
Merle looked up the hill and grinned. "Take a gander, little brother."
Daryl looked uphill and saw Carol helping Ed to his feet. Ed shouted at Carol, making her step back frightfully and Ed staggered towards the quarry to soak his injured wrist.
"The little lady didn't run down here and give you a peck on the cheek; she stayed with that pile of dog shit. That's the choice she made, so why should you give a damn?"
Daryl kept watching Carol as she watched Ed walk out of her sight. Sophia wrapped her arms around her mother's waist, and Carol put her hand on her daughter's shoulder comfortingly.
"What that bastard did was wrong," Daryl said as he looked at Merle.
"No shit it was wrong," Merle nodded. "So are you gonna hit every dog shit husband we come across?"
Daryl huffed and looked away from Merle. "No."
Merle chuckled and shoved Daryl lightly on the shoulder. "Good. 'Cause you can't have Jiminy Crickett on your shoulder and tellin' you to be a Goddamn hero, when we're plannin' on robbin' this camp six ways from Sunday."
Daryl looked at Merle again and a serious look came over his face. "I've gotta go," he said firmly.
Merle blinked. "What did you say?"
Daryl left Merle and went to their tent. He threw the door flap open and took out his Horton Scout HD 125 crossbow.
Merle followed Daryl and stood beside him. "I asked you a question, son," the older Dixon brother said firmly.
Daryl placed the crossbow's barrel on the ground, and slipped his foot into the stirrup; next, he pulled the string back until it was cocked, then he slipped his foot out of the stirrup, held the crossbow in his hands, took an arrow from the attached quiver, loaded it onto the flight groove, and flicked the safety to the "on" position and slung the crossbow over his shoulder. "I'm goin' huntin'," he said.
"What?!" Merle shouted. The older Dixon realized he had raised his voice and looked around to see if the others in the group had noticed; they had not. Merle looked at Daryl and saw he was walking out of camp. "Are you shittin' me?" he asked as he ran after his little brother.
"We need food and there's about two hours of daylight left for me to bag somethin'" Daryl said as he kept walking.
"Hell no, son," Merle said as he caught up to Daryl, "what we need to do strategize: when we should surprise 'em, and what's worth takin'."
"It can wait," Daryl said firmly.
Merle stopped in his tracks and watched in disbelief as Daryl continued on. "No shit?" the elder Dixon brother asked sarcastically. "Okay. I'll just mosey on back to camp and wait for that pig to kick me out or those abominations to stop by and tear me apart, whichever comes first."
Daryl kept walking and disappeared into the forest. Merle clenched his fists in anger. "Daryl!" Merle shouted far behind him.
•••
"Daryl!" Rick called.
Daryl blinked a few times and realized he was standing in the common room of Cell Block C. Rick, Carl, the Greenes, and Glenn were looking at him worriedly. Daryl looked at Carol, and saw that she still sat with her back to him, but was now staring down at her cup of coffee.
"Daryl, are you all right?" Rick asked with concern. "You've been standing like a statue for a while."
"I've gotta go," Daryl said, repeating the statement he told Merle at the campsite a year ago.
Carol dropped her cup of coffee, and its remaining contents spilled across the table. Rick blinked several times, while Carl, Glenn, and the Greenes looked up in surprise at Daryl.
Daryl walked out of the common room and into the cellblock as Carol and the others watched him go. Daryl walked up the staircase, onto the second tier, and into his cell. He stared at his two crossbows resting on the top bunk. The newest one—a Stryker Strykezone 380—was a surprise gift from Michonne after she, Rick, and Carl returned from King County with enough guns and ammunition to fight the war against the Governor. The older crossbow—a Horton Scout HD 125—was a birthday gift from Merle, who Daryl had buried in the group's cemetery yesterday.
Daryl picked up the Horton Scout and examined it. He remembered his sixteenth birthday, his father actually being sober that day, and Merle grinning as he handed him the box covered in wrapping paper and with a bow tapped to it. Daryl tore the wrapping paper away, revealing a boxed Horton crossbow.
"Gotta get ready for when society crashes like a 747," Merle quipped. "One day, the bullets will run out and we'll be usin' bows and arrows like the Goddamn redskins."
A tear ran down Daryl's eye and he wiped it away with a fingertip. "You weren't as dumb as you looked, Merle," he muttered sadly.
Daryl examined the three arrows set in the quiver attached to the bottom of the crossbow: the original carbon arrows were lost killing walkers from the CDC, to Hershel's farm, but Daryl replaced them with wooden arrows he carved and fletched with turkey feathers; during the group's temporary stay in the storage units last winter, Daryl added to his supply several carbon arrows from different manufacturers, so the quiver was loaded with two arrows fletched with yellow and red vanes, and one arrow fletched with orange and green vanes.
Daryl placed the crossbow's barrel down on the cell's floor, slid his foot into the stirrup, pulled the string back until it was cocked, and slipped his foot out of the stirrup. He held the crossbow in his hands, took one arrow from the quiver, loaded it onto the flight groove, and flicked the crossbow's safety to the "on" position.
Daryl placed the Horton Scout crossbow on the table bolted onto the cell wall behind him and took the poncho folded on the top bunk. Daryl had also found the poncho inside the storage units, and it had Southwestern Indian artwork pattern. Daryl slipped the poncho over his head, picked up the Horton Scout crossbow, and slung it over his shoulder and walked out of his cell.
When Daryl reached the bottom of the staircase, he found Rick standing in the center of the hallway and Carol was standing beside the common room's doorway. When Carol saw Daryl wearing his poncho and with his old crossbow slung over his shoulder, she gasped and raised a hand to cover her mouth.
"Daryl, what are you…where are you…?" Rick stammered.
"Relax, I'm goin' on a hunt," Daryl said as he walked past the former sheriff's deputy; he also glanced at Carol as he walked inside the common room.
Inside the common room Daryl saw Carl, Glenn, and the Greenes (including Beth, holding baby Judith) were standing up and looking at him quizzically. Daryl walked over to the shop desk along the wall, opened the center drawer, and rummaged through the small collection of car keys for the one belonging to the Dodge Ram 1500 truck, he found the key and put it in his jeans pocket.
"We overheard you were going on a hunt," Hershel said.
Daryl grumbled the affirmative as he closed the middle drawer.
"Are you hunting the Governor?" Carl asked excitedly, "can I go, too?"
"Carl," Rick said sternly as he and Carol stepped inside the common room; the young boy hung his head in embarrassment.
Daryl adjusted the crossbows weight on his shoulder and walked towards the side door.
"You're going on a hunt now?" Rick asked in surprise.
"We need meat. 'specially if we're goin' to rebuild this damn place," Daryl answered.
"But I have a food run planned," Rick argued, "besides, we have to look the damage over and list the materials we need for the rebuilding project."
Daryl reached the side door and partially opened it before he looked back at the group's leader. "Ask those old bastards from Woodbury to help you; make 'em earn their keep."
Daryl looked at Carol, who had a worried expression on her face. Daryl nodded and she smiled softly and nodded back. Daryl stepped out into the courtyard and the door slammed shut behind him.
TO BE CONTINUED