Rick walked out of the building and back to a small area that he and Carl had fenced in. Not long after they'd found the place, they'd come across a mama goat and her two babies out near a burned out farm. How they'd managed to stay out of the reach of hungry walkers was a miracle. Rick figured there must have been someone caring for them earlier but there was no sign of anyone left alive at the farm.
They took the goats in and Maggie had taught them how to milk the nanny goat once her young were weaned. It gave them a supply of fresh milk which was a treat to say the least. He threw in some grass they'd cut yesterday and poured some water into their bucket. They'd been skittish at first but now would wander up for a pat when he came to feed them.
He still couldn't get over Judith in that dress. She was the image of Lori. He still missed his wife. On good nights he'd dream of her. She'd lay her cool hand against his cheek while he whispered his apology over and over. She'd lean in and kiss him whispering that it was okay, that he was a good man, a good father before she began to fade away. His last glimpse of her would be her smiling face.
After feeding the goats, he began his walk around the perimeter of the fence. It was a sturdy barrier, good protection. So far, he hadn't found a weak spot. If the walkers found them, starting piling up, it could still give. Anything would give under enough pressure. That was a lesson he'd learned the hardest way possible.
The good thing was that walkers didn't seem to be herding up as much as they once had. Maybe there were just fewer of them now. The walkers lasted a long time but eventually their flesh deteriorated to a point that they collapsed. Their brains turned to a liquid slime. It took a long time but it happened. They'd seen it.
There were pockets of survivors that they'd run across. Most were living day to day just like this group. Hunger and disease were the biggest problems that most people faced. If they managed to survive as his group had, they also had to worry about bandits and psychopaths. The governor had only been the beginning.
They'd lost Michonne in a battle with the group at Terminus. That had been a hard blow, especially for Carl. Tyrese had been taken out by a crazed sniper a year later in a little town near Macon where they were looking for supplies. Bob and Sasha had stayed with the group for several years. They'd gone out on a run and never returned. Rick and Daryl had searched for days but they never found a single trace other than signs of a scuffle on the side of the road.
Abraham and his group along with Tara had left right after they escaped from Terminus. They'd headed to Washington to complete their mission. Apparently the strange little man who supposedly knew how to fix everything and save the world hadn't succeeded. Maybe they never made it to their destination or maybe this whole mess was just unfixable.
Rick's hand had begun to ache again. He figured it was arthritis beginning to settle into his joints. His father had suffered with it starting around his early 50's. Rick was 54. He hadn't ever really counted on getting to be an old man. There still weren't any guarantees but he was getting up there. He smiled thinking one day he might be considered a wise old sage like Hershel had been. He just needed "a little piece of wheat in the corner of his mouth and a bigger ass," as his dear friend had once told him.
"What's so funny?" he heard Carl ask as they met near the front gate.
"Nothing, just remembering a joke," Rick answered.
"So, I was thinkin'," Carl said, "we still got some seeds from that farm we found last year. You think we could try and plant something that's fast growing, maybe some spinach or lettuce. We could have some fresh vegetables. What do you think?"
Rick hadn't wanted to settle long enough for them to farm for a long time. He didn't want to ever get complacent again but they needed this. All of them did. "Yeah, sounds good. Let's look for some tools, dig up that patch of ground near the back. It looks like a good spot."
Carl grinned back at his Dad. He was a grown man, nearly 30 himself, but sometimes he looked like that little boy with the freckles again. Rick reached over and put his hand on Carl's back. "Come on, son. We got work to do," he said.
Carol stood in the doorway watching them. She had hoped that Rick would finally let them settle down again. Maybe this would be it. She heard Daryl walking up behind her.
"Whatcha lookin' at?" he asked.
"Just Rick and Carl. It's nice here. Things are peaceful again," she told him.
He placed his hands on her hips and leaned to kiss her neck, "It's good for now. Just don't get too comfortable, baby. You know we don't ever get to stay for long," he whispered.
She leaned back against his chest, feeling the strength in his arms as they encircled her. "I know. I'm just hoping, Daryl. I'm hoping."
"I gotta go. Me, Glen and Maggie are goin' out. Be careful while we're gone," he told her.
"You be careful. Nine lives over here, remember?" she said before kissing him soundly on the lips.
