Shane got up when it was time for the watch to switch. Merle Dixon climbed down from the top of the RV as soon as Glenn emerged from within to relieve him. The young Asian tried smiling at the hardened older man, but he earned himself only a sneer.
"You ever seen a grown man stupid enough to use the barrel of a rifle to scratch his ass?" Shane asked Dale, taking a meager sip of water to wet his whistle. Dale shook his head and put on his hat.
"Shane, last night Sarah got on top of the RV with Merle," the older man began, looking the officer pointedly in the eye. Shane blinked, looking him over a moment, before cocking his head to the side and walking toward the furthest part of camp from where the Dixons were located.
"I take it some interesting words were exchanged?" Shane asked, leaning against a tree.
"Well, I could only hear so much of what was going on, but I gathered something you. . .might like to hear. It's strange. She kept saying she didn't want anyone to find out about something, and later she talked about how she remembered the first time she rode on his bike and he took her home." Dale scratched at the back of his neck. "I just don't understand what good that could possibly be. I didn't want to think so, but. . .I don't know, maybe she's formed some kind of attachment over the years simply because she wasn't given a choice? If Merle had her first and then passed her along to his brother. . ."
Shane spotted the blue and white truck in the distance and let his eyes rest there, eyebrows drawn. "I'm not sure. . .maybe a little too extreme. But the truth lies somewhere in between, don't it? I gotta tell ya, brother, I don't really trust what she says about 'em. I think she's protecting their image, shitty as it already is."
"See, that's another thing that confuses me. Merle's language when he spoke to this woman was unreal. I couldn't fathom even saying half of those words in the presence of a lady," Dale murmured. "Like it was nothing to say such crude things to someone he called 'little sis'."
Shane's gut turned. "Ugh. . .man, that dude is creepy as hell."
"Yeah, it was all so bizarre. He talks like that to both of them. He doesn't seem to think much about his own brother, either. Looking at Daryl Dixon, I can't imagine saying a word against him, but that brother of his talks to him like an animal. Even to the man's. . .wife." Dale shrugged his shoulders, overcome by his own discomfort with the situation. "I don't know what exactly to think about all of this, I just thought it was worth noting. Merle's got a face you'd expect to see on the evening news, and frankly, I don't think there's anything he wouldn't do, if push came to shove."
Shane nodded and patted the old man's shoulder. "I thank you, brother. Can't stand to see somethin' happen to that poor girl. I'll get to the bottom of it shortly. I think after yesterday, they're a little too riled up to address this just yet. I'm not sayin' I'm gonna let them rule the roost and run wild, but you saw them yesterday, guns 'n glory all up in my tent. Need to let things settle a bit before I go pokin' around again. I told her I'd take her word about it, so better let them get the chance to fuck up a bit. Don't want her losing faith in the local authorities, now do I?
"I'm off to drum up s'more water," Shane looked away now and started collecting empty containers. "I'm guessin' your watch starts at noon? Who's after?"
This time it was Dale's eyes that shifted to the east, where he saw two zipped tents. "Daryl."
Sarah awoke abruptly at the rustling noises around her, but Daryl quickly came to view with a finger to his lip.
"Just me," he whispered, attaching his knife to his belt. She nodded and closed her eyes again. "Now woman, ya gonna do laundry or come learn to shoot? Can't sleep in all day, not when I head out. I don't want you in here by yerself, I done told you."
"Are you kidding me? Do you know how bad my body hurts right now? You're a fuckin' beast." The woman rolled onto her stomach, still half-asleep.
"Sarah Claire, you gotta be in class in twenty minutes."
"Oh, that's just fuckin' cruel!" Sarah cried after reflexively jumping off the mattress. He smirked and held her knife out to her.
"Be a good girl, now."
"What, I don't get my morning coffee?" Sarah asked, kissing the spot below his ear. He almost laughed.
"Damn, woman, y'just told me your body hurts. Get on, I gotta go out there and see what I can't find."
"Merle killed a rabbit!" Sarah stammered.
Daryl danced away from her grabby hands. "Later, woman. You need to take it easy. And uh. . .wear a scarf."
Before Sarah even had time to question what he'd said, Daryl had grabbed his bow and taken off. Remembering something from the night before, she dove for her purse to retrieve a compact. "Son of a bitch."
As though she had a fucking scarf. Sarah dressed quickly, completely over the idea of 'coffee' with Daryl for the morning, and tried to prop up the tiny mirror on a pile of Daryl's boots to maybe come up with a way to hide the ugly purple blotch on her neck with her hair. His revenge, it lingered.
The woman sat down in front of their things to make heads or tails of what really needed to be done. Looking at the bags, she could see automatically that Daryl had packed far more of her belongings than his, and he had probably broken into her apartment to do so. There was no way she'd had this much shit left at their house. She smiled suddenly, forgetting her annoyance with the man as a wave of curiosity washed over her: What sorts of things would Daryl pack for her, given the end of the world?
One bag seemed like he'd just raided her underwear drawer, with all assortments of Victoria's Secret panties and a few bras that almost made her blush to think of Daryl rifling through. Pretty much every sock she owned, some UA ColdGear, condoms. . .there was that blush again. Cocky bastard.
Bag two was filled to the brim with a collection of old T-shirts and shorts she'd owned for numerous years, along with her daddy's rodeo buckle, ticket stubs for different movies she'd dragged Daryl to. . .
Sarah zipped up the bag suddenly and shoved it back with the rest. Even if they were together again, it was still embarrassing as hell to think about him finding the things she should have gotten rid of if she intended for them to stay broken up. No need to go thinking about all of those things right now. There was a pile of grimy jeans and assorted other clothing items to attend to by the flap of the tent. Breakfast was a far thought from her mind.
She had noticed the other women scrubbing in the quarry, but she honestly figured it would do a little better to wash these out with running water. The danger in that, however, was being alone down the creek where no one got their water from. Daryl was out hunting to the north west of camp, Merle was snoring loudly from his tent, Glenn stood atop the RV on his watch duty, she didn't trust that one ornery-looking fucker, Dale was no where to be seen. . .
She heard a noise coming up the trail along the side of the hills and saw Shane's Jeep. He must've made another run for fresher, hopefully safer water. Nah, no way he'd take time out of his day to watch over her while she beat the dirt out of Daryl's Dungarees. Hopefully she'd be able to work out something later, but for now it seemed her best bet for safety was to bite the bullet and wash the clothes in still water.
"Hey, we don't usually do the laundry this early," called a voice as Sarah made her way to the bank. Lori held a stack of dirty plates in her hands and made to pass them off to her. "You can take these instead—"
"I've got to wash these now, thanks. I'll try to help out later, but I've got other things to worry about now." Sarah readjusted the load in her arms and trudged on. She had soap, she had a broad scrub brush from her kitchen, she could conquer the world.
A half hour later she was still working and it almost seemed hopeless to get the last bit of blood out of the knee on Daryl's favorite pair of cargo pants. She'd long given up on staying up on her knees while she scrubbed and simply sat in the water. Why the fuck not?
"It might help if you use some of this natural soap on grunge like that," she heard a voice from behind her. Sarah's head whipped around quickly to see Carol approaching with her own basket of laundry and work essentials. The aging housewife sat on a rock just above the water to set her own skint knuckles to work.
"What do you mean?" Sarah asked, splashing a bit as she moved closer. Carol handed her a brown bar of soap.
"This is better for getting organic stains out of cotton like that. Try rubbing it directly on the stain and letting that pair soak a bit while you work on others. You can sit on it to keep it from floating away, since you're in the water."
Sarah chuckled softly and let her hands sink below the cool surface. "I guess I look pretty retarded. I'm just no good at this kind of stuff, I guess. Daryl's done his own laundry since he was six."
"What? Really?" Carol asked, blue eyes blinking quickly a few times. "I never pegged a guy like Daryl to do that kind of thing."
"He also went without home-cooked dinners for a while, when I finished up my clinicals. I tried my best, I mean. . ." Sarah mumbled, finding his shirts much easier to work with. "He and Hot Pockets got very well acquainted. He never really cared, I guess. Just said 'damn woman, I lived before I met you'."
"Reminds me a lot of Ed when we were younger," Carol said almost wistfully. Sarah furrowed her brow, but said nothing. "I mean the way he's outdoorsy and all."
"Oh. He's always been like that," Sarah dismissed. "Always filthy. In the five years I've known him, six maybe, I've only seen him wear a tie once, and that was to my mama's funeral."
"How sweet of him to be so considerate," Carol commented. Sarah didn't like the sickly sweetness of the woman's voice, how it was tinged with a decadent sort of sadness.
"It's what you do," Sarah went on flopping ripped-sleeve shirts around the surface of the water in frustration. "I will never understand how he gets so nasty. Merle could do ballet in those woods and not get near as filthy. About two years ago, I finally got my way and we got some of those super heavy duty Kenmores. Damn front-loading son of a bitch. He didn't even know how to use it for two weeks."
Carol laughed softly. "I miss my old Maytag back home. Worked wonders for Sophia's dirt. That little girl could rival Daryl, with the grass stains on her pants."
"Your daughter? I'm glad she has other kids to play with. You know where to come to if she ever needs any kind of medical attention. I wasn't field trained by any means, but I have been working in Atlanta for years. . ."
"You two gonna cackle and crow all day or ya gonna get some fuckin' work done?"
Sarah turned around quickly and saw a broad-shouldered man approaching. Ed.
"Just trying to help Sarah here with her husband's jeans," Carol meekly called to him with a practiced smile. With as fearful as Sarah could tell Carol was of her husband, she decided to keep her mouth shut. She might be able to handle Daryl and Merle, but that had come from years of experience. No way would she start pickin' fights with this big ol' bastard. Neither of them spoke for some time, which seemed to satisfy Ed, who left in the direction of the campfire.
"He always like that?" Sarah whispered, picking up her scrub brush again. Carol avoided her eyes and quickly finished up the last few of her daughter's shirts and made her way back to the camp. Sarah sighed, throwing another shirt into her 'somewhat clean' pile. When she picked up the next in line, she smiled. She could remember picking that shirt out for him for his birthday. He'd even refrained from ripping the sleeves off for a good three weeks.
"Good Lord, girl, what happened to your neck?"
Sarah jumped, dropping the green shirt in her lap.
"Goddamn it! What is with you people sneaking up on me?" she asked, grasping her chest. Shane squatted down beside her and moved her hair out of the way. "Hey!"
"Now Ms. Sarah, I apologize. It looks like a big ol' bruise from a ways away," the cop said, trying his best to smooth it over with a smile. He passed her the half-liter of water he'd sought her out to bring her. Sarah knocked him off balance so that he landed with a splash in the shallow water.
"You are the nosiest man I think I've ever met!" she exclaimed, examining the shirt again for dirt. Instead of getting angry as she'd anticipated, Shane laughed and splashed at her.
"I didn't mean nothin' by it, Ms. Sarah. Think you'll ever f'rgive me?" he asked, resorting to jostling her shoulder now. "Whatcha say we go for a swim, huh? I been thinkin' about catchin' frogs so we can fry up some legs."
"Frog legs?" Sarah's eyes widened.
"Aww, ya ain't squeamish are ya?" Shane winked.
"I haven't had frog legs in forever!" Sarah exclaimed, grin spread across her face. "Daryl will eat a lot of things, but frogs ain't one of 'em. Usually, I guess if he was hungry enough. Merle was the one that went giggin' with me all the time."
"Yer shittin' me! Pretty little Atlanta nurse diggin' around in the mud for frogs?" Shane splashed at her again.
"I did it growing up. I'm not from Atlanta, ya know. My brother taught me. He tried to teach me how to noodle too, but no way am I gonna let a mean ol' catfish bite down on my little arm. I'm not much for hunting either, hard as Daryl tried. But I'll fish the normal way, sometimes. Again, that was really more Merle's thing. One time I woke up in his boat with him, I shit you not. Motherfucker used to kidnap me all the time. Shouldn't you be makin' yourself useful, sheriff?"
"I am! Protecting and serving." Shane waded out into the water. "Brrruh. This water's cold, girl, I don't know how you're just sittin' in it."
"Not so bad in the shallows, 'sides, I gotta get this done. Haven't had the chance to do any laundry in a loooong time and I don't want it stinking up the tent. Again." Sarah scrubbed more soap against the knee of Daryl's pants. The stain was visibly better and she'd have to remember to thank Carol later.
Shane laughed from where he stood. "That man 'a yours usually comes back lookin' like he rolled around in blood 'n mud."
"I think he might actually be doing that. I don't know. I was just telling Carol earlier I have no idea how he manages to get that way." Sarah sighed. "Guess it's what I get for marrying a good ol' Georgia boy."
"What, y'all have some kind of ceremony I ain't aware of?" Shane called. Sarah furrowed her brow.
"So fucking sorry there, officer, it's just I'm not exactly sure I'm gonna get the wedding I've been planning out for the past twenty years or when the courthouse will be open for me to file paperwork."
"Hey, c'mon, I didn't mean it like that."
Sarah nearly ripped a hole in a shirt with the force of her scrubbing. Like Daryl could have ever handled a wedding without snarling at the guests and running into the trees anyway, she thought bitterly. She could see it. She jumped, feeling a hand on her shoulder that she probably should have expected.
"Sarah, honest. I was just horsin' around," Shane intimated, crouching down beside her again. "Can't stay mad at me. Look at this face."
"It's really hard to figure out where society comes into play now that it's gone. That's all I'm saying. We wanna get it on with and just be married, but. . ." Sarah threw the last pair of jeans into her pile to hang-dry. "Not like anyone here is an ordained minister, so what does it even mean?"
Shane picked up her basket of heavy, wet clothes for her and extended a hand to help her up.
"I'm sorry," she said somewhat defeatedly. "Ignore me when I'm talking, it's best for your health."
"We're all tryin' to figure it out right now, no worries." Shane set the basket down in front of the makeshift lines where Sophia's clothes already hung. "Daryl's due to take watch tonight around six, remind him for me."
Sarah nodded, but pouted inwardly. He wouldn't get back in until she was already sleeping.
"Seein' as he'll be preoccupied, I wonder if you won't mind helpin' me round up some of those juicy frogs we were talkin' about?" Shane asked, leaning against his elbow on a tree. "Nobody else I talked to so far has ever done it, and I don't exactly think ol' Merle will be willin' to keep me company."
"Why not?" Sarah sounded a little more dejected than she meant to.
"Glad to see you're so eager!" the former police officer exclaimed, clapping her on the shoulder. "I guess I'll collect you after dinner. See ya then."
"I didn't mean – ugh, whatever." Sarah hauled wet jeans from the basket one by one, pinning them securely.
Well, there went her morning task. She sighed and looked at her handiwork. She was no Kenmore, but it would have to do. She looked around the camp and saw a horde of people set to their individual tasks with such certainty in what they were doing. Without gunshot wounds, car accidents, or violent assaults, Sarah wasn't exactly sure what to do with herself in this new world.
Well. . .there was one person that could probably use some sort of medical attention, she was sure. With shy steps, Sarah slowly made her way over to Merle's tent, which he'd predictably left only half-zipped. Once close enough, she could hear and see motion inside. She sighed. If he was suddenly awake after having crashed following his watch, that could only mean one thing.
"Hey bro?" she called.
"FUCK OFF."
"At least let me help, Merle."
Sarah felt all of her worries crash over her in those few anxious seconds before the tent was unzipped the rest of the way. The nurse took another moment to steel herself, almost backed away and trotted back toward camp, but stepped inside the tent with the sick man, who zipped it completely closed after her.