Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of the characters herein, nor do I gain compensation (monetary or otherwise) from the writing and publication of the following. The characters and general plotline are the intellectual property or Robert Kirkman, AMC, et al.
A/N: I started writing this some time ago, but was extremely hesitant to publish it. I am aware that the following subject matter is extremely sensitive and can be upsetting for some. When I saw the prompt on the kink meme, I decided to post it, but am still feeling some trepidation. I have worked/ will continue to work very hard to do justice to this subject and handle it tactfully. If anyone reading it feels that I am not handling it in a respectful manner, I would beg you to let me know so that I can rectify the situation.
While this story was published because of a prompt on the kink meme, that is not it's sole (or original) birthing point and I would hate for it to come across as a shallow interpretation of the real struggle people face every day.
That all being said, I hope you're still entertained when reading this and take enjoyment from it.
"Being born as a female in a home like yours generally results in one of two outcomes."
The bike runs out of gas halfway to their destination.
Daryl shakes his head at a sound and continues to rummage through dusty pharmacy shelves. He's picking up bottles and quickly reading the labels before muttering to himself and dropping them to the floor. A few shatter when they land and he makes no effort to side step the broken glass or liquid while shuffling along.
"Hurry the fuck up!" Merle's voice echoes sharp and clear from outside, making Daryl jump.
Daryl doesn't know what any of the shit on these bottles means, but he'll know the right one when he finds it. "I'm goin' as fast as I can!" Daryl shouts back at his brother, moving onto the next row of shelves. The place has pretty much been picked clean and it's asking a lot to think that some little hickville pharmacy might have what he needs. But his hickville pharmacy carried a minimal supply for Daryl, so he's still allowing himself a small amount of hope.
"Convenience store's been picked clean. But I found a gallon or so of gas." Merle coughs and there's a loud thump as he presumably takes down one of the walkers (that's what Merle's taken to calling them, at least). "Don't matter if you can't find any. I remember what it was like before. I don't care." Daryl stops searching and allows himself a moment to chew on his thumbnail in frustration.
"I'm almost done lookin'."
"What makes you think you're gonna find anything, baby brother? Ain't many people out there like you."
"Would you shut up? Just gimme a minute." Daryl knows that there's no way they'll be able to stop at every pharmacy they see. There has to be something here, or he's going to be royally fucked. He punches the side of shelf in frustration, crushing a useless bottle in his fist. "God damn it!" His hand burns from the glass he's pushed into it and he flexes his fingers, ignoring the pain. A bottle rattles and rolls off the shelf Daryl's just assaulted. He bends to pick it up scans the label, feeling remarkably grateful that it isn't broken.
"I'm just sayin', pretty crazy to be riskin' our necks for some hormones, just so you can feel all perfect about yourself." Merle carries on as Daryl raids the shelf. "Fuck it, I say."
Six vials. 200 mgs each. Usually, they would last him six months, but he's sure he can push them to a year. He shoves them into his bag and crouches to pick up the stack of sterile needles before heading outside. "Fuck you," he snaps. "I found some." Merle snorts at him and they clamber into the truck. "Let's go."
"What do you mean, two outcomes?"
"Two possible results. Well, major results."
"I know what outcome means. But there's gotta be more than two."
"See that camp up there?" Merle points at a few dots of fire at the very top of the quarry. Someone who wasn't looking, or who didn't have a trained eye, never would have noticed them in the daylight. Daryl shifts on the bike to look around his brother's shoulder.
"What about it?"
"Big camp. I noticed them movin' stuff up there when I was on my way to save your ass. At least five families – food, campin' gear. There's some dumb shit who brought one a them fancy camper vans."
"Uh huh," Daryl frowns. "What's it to you? You hate bein' around people anyways. And I ain't feelin' too social right now, either."
"They got all that shit up there. There's some Chinese fucker and a couple a Mexicans up there, too. How come they get the good life while we're ridin' around on one motorcycle and you gotta sit bitch?"
"You wanna steal from them?"
"There's too many of them to just go up and take it. You know they'll always have someone on watch. I say we go in real nice and friendly like, tell 'em we need a group and offer our services, the like. Make off with the good stuff once we've had a chance to figure out what the good stuff is."
The plan isn't to Daryl's liking. He's never been fond of stealing unless he has to. But if he's honest with himself, he wouldn't mind eating something other than rabbit or snake for a while. And the idea of making off with a car, or a truck, so he doesn't have to sit wedged up against Merle all of the time? Merle must feel Daryl nod his head, because in seconds the bike is revving and motoring them up the incline towards the camp.
Merle isn't wrong. There's a big group there – more than Daryl has the chance to meet when they first arrive. A lady and her husband seem to be runnin' the place – he's a cop…or was, before everything turned to shit. They have a kid, who's friends with the few other kids around. Seems they were all heading into Atlanta when they realized the evacuation wasn't really happening and one of them had the bright idea to head up the hill. The others followed.
"Dale has a spare tent in his Winnebago you guys can use, if you'd like." Some young, blonde chick is trying to help Merle and Daryl settle in, and true to his form, Merle can't help but be a prick right from the get go.
"Some other things I'd like to use," Merle says, leering at her. She's probably half of Merle's age and frowns at him, like she's trying to pretend she doesn't understand what he means.
"We'll be okay," Daryl says, stepping in between them. "We got our own gear. Just need to know where to set up." There's an empty spot not too far from one of the fires where they throw their tent up in the fading daylight – the tent they found in the trunk of some burnt out car. They don't have anything to sleep on, though, and the blonde girl manages to find some blankets for them.
"We don't have much to eat," she tells them, "but I can tell you guys don't have much in the way of anything. You're welcome to share with us."
"We're both pretty good at huntin'," Merle says, leading the way over to one of the fire pits. Daryl follows, looking around at the rest of the group – everyone's watching him and his brother with keen, cautious eyes. "Tomorrow we could find y'all somethin' real to eat."
Daryl drops his body onto one of the logs by the fire – he hadn't realized how exhausted he felt until now. He hasn't slept in a long time – from the hunting trip where everything went to hell to now, it's been around four days. And through all of it, he might have slept a total of five or six hours, while other people were driving. The lady who seems to be leading the camp brings over two plates.
"It's late, and it's gettin' dark." She smiles down at Daryl, but there's something in her smile that tells him he's on watch. They both are. "We're about to put out the fire – don't want to draw any unwelcome company after dark."
"That's alright," Daryl says, "We've been goin' for days. Since this all started."
"We'll do introductions tomorrow." Another blonde chick – looks a little older than the first one – walks up. Her voice is authoritative and Daryl cocks his head to look at her. She could turn out to be a problem. "When you're done with the plates, throw them on the fire and then put it out."
Daryl nods – Merle's already done shoveling his meager portion of food down and chucks his plate into the fire. He rises and lets out a belch before heading to the tent without a word to anyone, so Daryl answers. "Will do. Thanks for the food."
"Keep your friend's promise about hunting for us, and we'll be thanking you." She turns on her heel and walks away from the fire.
The next morning sees Daryl rise earlier than he expected to, with how exhausted he had felt the night before. There's the noise of people living their lives just outside the tent, talking and clanging pots together, shuffling about. He rolls over and Merle's side of the tent is empty which gives Daryl plenty of space to get properly dressed before he unzips the tent flap and climbs out.
"Mornin'," the lady who brought him food last night smiles up at him from where she's washing some clothes. "Ready to meet everyone?"
Daryl makes a grunting noise that could be taken either way, really. "You know where my brother is?"
"He left already. Said he didn't want to waste daylight waitin' for you. Said you'd be able to find him."
"I should go." Daryl adjusts him crossbow on his back and heads in the direction the woman pointed.
Merle's not far from the camp when Daryl finds him, hunkered down and watching a small body of water through a thick branch of leaves. It can't be any later than 9 in the morning and the heat's already heavy around them. Daryl can feel sweat dripping steadily down his temples as he squats down beside Merle. "Why didn't you wake me?" he murmurs, quiet enough that he won't scare whatever his brother's watching.
"Didn't think you'd wanna come on this hunting trip." Daryl looks sideways at his brother.
"Why?"
"Ain't hunting to eat." The older blonde girl pops up from under the water with a quiet splash and runs her hands down her face.
"What the fuck, Merle?" Daryl turns away from the scene when he realizes she's climbing out of the water. "You want them to know you're a fucking perv already?"
"No one's gonna know," Merle whispers, turning to face his brother as the woman dresses herself. "This is why I didn't bring you. Knew you'd just be a pussy about it."
"I'm not bein' a pussy. You wanna get kicked out before we get anythin' for our trouble?" Daryl risks a glance back at the water and sees the blonde girl is leaving. "Come on," he spits. "Let's go get somethin' to eat."
That night, they're all sitting around the campfire, devouring the deer that Merle and Daryl took down. Daryl's forgotten just how quickly a large group of people can put away a small doe, but the company makes him feel momentarily safer – before he remembers Merle's plan and feels a punch of guilt in his gut. There's women here…kids. He glances sideways at Merle, who takes a swig from his beer bottle and grins at him. The conversation has died down somewhat and Merle's got a twinkle in his eyes that makes Daryl squirm in his seat. "Hey, baby brother," Merle says and Daryl knows he should have seen this coming. Merle's going to say something to embarrass him in front of all of these people. "Why don't you tell everyone about the night you saw the chupacabra?"
Daryl winces but raises his head. No one ever believes he saw one, but it was as real as the plate on his knee is now. "Ain't much to tell, really."
"What's a chupacabra?" Lori, the lady who Daryl clearly recognizes as the leader of the camp now, asks with a frown.
"Goat sucking monster," the younger blonde chick says. Her name is Amy and Daryl is still deciding whether or not to tell her and her sister that he met their parents. "They're not real. Urban legend."
"It was real," Daryl defends himself. "I was out huntin' and I saw it there, on the side of the hill." Daryl points to a tree about 50 yards from the group. "No further from me than that tree is, just devourin' a goat. Suckin' its face clean off."
"That's not possible," Andrea scoffs, tossing her empty beer bottle into the fire pit. "It's just a Amy said, they're not real."
"I saw what I saw," Daryl says, ignoring Merle's undisguised guffaw. "Plain as you, sittin' just in front of me. It was real."
"Either they are doted upon, as an unexpected and adored gift, or…"
"Or what?"