CHAPT 4
Chapter 4: The Governor's Story
Introduces Woodbury and the Governor and gives some background to his character. How he became the man he is. Contains reference to sexual assault/rape
It was a bright, early morning on the streets of Woodbury. The Governor, a tall, slim but well-built blond man in his forties strode efficiently along the gleaming Main Street of his town, black boots thudding on the pavement. His long legs forcing Milton to try to keep up with him as he prattled on about his latest experiments and what he thought he had found out. The handsome self-appointed leader of Woodbury was only half-listening. God! He could be such a bore at times! The man actually fancied himself as a scientist! He'd been a social studies lecturer at the university down in Atlanta and had been visiting his sister at Woodbury when the epidemic broke out. Unfortunately, she'd been one of the first victims. Milton was investigating whether the Biters still might retain some of their old personality and memories, he'd tried first on Mary but then he had to put her down. His latest case was a 70 year old cancer patient who had volunteered to be a guinea-pig. If they ran out of volunteers and that seemed likely, thought the Governor, they would start having to find an alternative source of test subjects. He didn't know if the man was just deluded but he desperately hoped that it was true – Penny did seem to quieten down when he played–Bye, Baby Bunting to her. Sometimes, it even seemed like that she was singing (moaning?) along. It used to be her favourite nursery rhyme, after all, the one he sang to her before he tucked her into bed at night. But now he 'put her to bed in the closet' every night and the thought of the closet led to unwelcome others about her deteriorating body. Such as her long hair which he still tenderly brushes every day which used to be so thick and gleam with a healthy chestnut hue that was now falling out in clumps and the spreading mottled patches of discoloured skin. All over her. And her smell. Getting stronger day by day, so that now he could detect her odour faintly in his office even when she was shut-up. Nevertheless, he refused to admit to himself that it nauseated him as he pushed these disturbing thoughts away. She was his secret and if this bumbling bureaucrat ever found a cure, she would be at the head of the queue for treatment. Because he couldn't lose her as well, not while there was hope because after Anne was gone, she was the only family she had left. He refused to think that Penny was really gonetoo.
The thought of his dead wife led him to unwillingly recall that tragic icy winter's night three years ago. He's driving them back from a co-worker's New Year Eve's party. Except that he's had too much drink, so as Anne although he's far less worse for wear than she is. She was tripping up on herself, could barely walk in her high heels – fell flat on her ass in front of everybody with her otherwise elegant short midnight blue dress rucking up to show her silk underwear. And her shapely legs. Had always been proud of her figure, was Anne, he thought sourly. But he'd never been so humiliated in his life. The other wives and girlfriends twittering behind their hands – laughing at her, laughing at him. He could tell in their eyes that they knew.His wife's voice slurring – not even making any sense, the laughing stock of the gathering. But he knows why he drank so much that night, more than his usual limit of two small glasses. The knowledge, the shame, the humiliation. So he decides to drive them the two hour drive home. Before she got too wasted, he saw him and Anne cosying up together, in the kitchen corner over the punch-bowl when they think no one is looking. But he knows better. He knows what's going on has known for months but decides as usual to ignore it. Doesn't say anything –doesn't confront either of them. Just pretends that nothing is wrong despite the signs - his wife hasn't let him touch her for over half a year and sometimes when she looks at him, she seems so resigned, so tired. So disappointed in him and the mediocre middle-class life he can offer her. And she drinks - a bottle of red wine a day, sometimes two, occasionally even three on the bad days. Often she screams at him 'Why can't you be a man? Why do you let your best friend treat you like this? You work all hours for jack-shit! You could take over the company yourself! Or become a partner! Get some balls and ask him for a payrise! We have to pay for Penny's school fees and we don't have enough money! We never have enough!'But he can't think of anything to say in return. He can't confront his boss he needs the job and new positions are hard to come by in the recession. And his employer knows this and takes full advantage of the situation. They've all had their pay frozen and a cut in bonuses, not just him. The sword of redundancy is hanging all over their heads, like the sword of Damocles. Neither can he confront old school friend about what he is doing behind his back with his wife, either.
The roads were clear when they left but then it starts to sleet – and cover the road with black ice. It's New Year's Day after all. And then the oil- truck hits, skidding on the road – his wife forgot to put on her seat belt and he didn't check her. It's his fault!Luckily, Penny isn't with them, the one blessing to be grateful for, the party was on too late for a five year old. So she's with the teenage babysitter waiting for them at home. Anne dies on impact, her skull blooming blood roses and her neck snapped broken. He can tell immediately that she's dead, you didn't have to be a paramedic to seethat but he's in too much shock and pain to register this properly. He's escaped, (if you could call it escaped with your wife sitting dead beside you)with bad whiplash and a few minor cuts and bruises, mainly to his forehead.
Still walking briskly while unwillingly recalling the past, he made his way to the Town Hall where he had a job to do. As they went along, various townsfolk obsequiously greeted the Governor with calls of 'Good Morning' or a smile and a nod. They were going about their business – shopping, visiting friends, drinking coffee in the cafes – even work. He nodded back and smiled politely, even using the names of the ones he knew. He remembered how they had yammered and clamoured 'Save us! Oh, oh save us!' like the stupid, screaming, sobbing sheep they were. Just begging for a leader –any leader. So he'd stepped up and got the job. He hadn't been surprised, he'd always been good at public speaking, using persuasive words, projecting the right image to sway the masses. After all, he'd been the marketing and promotion manager in his friend's company – knew how to talk the talk. His commercials had brought thousands in profits to the company not that he had seen much of the profits.
Yet now - he owned the town and he owned the people. He was not a mere man but The Man. He was finally being a man. If only Anne was here to see him now, she would be proud of him, he knew.
Yes – most people had jobs –he'd been proud of his employment policy and the children would go to school and be taught by adults (they were lucky – one or two had teaching degrees) as normal. This was all part of the image of normalcy that he carefully cultivated – if you woke up here from a coma you might think that the epidemic had never happened. Moreover, if people told you about it, you'd feel like it was some horrific nightmare but yet so removed from life in Woodbury it was no more than that. Because of the various guards placed on along the perimeter walls – on rota to protect the townsfolk within their boundaries. Most adults took were already trained to shoot or stab on target but there was also a special military division made up of ex-cops, security guards and bouncers. These people protected the city walls because the Governor never did anything without precise planning and organisation. So this buffer made life in his little town seem really removed from the harsh reality outside it. Where the Biters roamed free. Why were people so scared of them, really? As long as they didn't attack you en mass or in a herd as Andrea had coined the term, they were pretty slow and stupid. A trained child could kill one. Yes – maybe that would be a good idea – train the children to kill Biters and guard the perimeter.
He'd thought about what had happened with Maggie – God knows he'd never hurt a woman before. Had barely ever raised his voice to Anne or Penny let alone ever put his hands to them. In the old world, he had despisedmen like that. It was true – a few people like him came into their own when the Apocalypse happened. Now that the rules of the game had changed and now hewas in charge around here. During the interrogation, knowing that she could hear her boyfriend getting the crap beaten out of him next door (he'd chosen these sheds with their thin walls as interrogation cells deliberately) and her badly concealed fear he knew was for the boy, not for herself, he'd found himself becoming aroused. So he'd made her strip and felt himself getting hard when he saw her pert, young breasts. So sweet - how she'd tried to hide them so shyly but it had only turned him on more. Especially the look of terror in her eyes as he ran his eyes deliberately slowly all over her body. Then he'd removed his belt and undone his pants – to make his silent threat all the more clear to her to intimidate her into giving up her group's location. Then slammed her down on the table and thrust himself against her to terrify her even more. So she could feel his hardness ready for her. And he was going to make her tell him and then do it anyway. Finally, he was being a man like his wife had told him to be because powerful men simply took what they wanted from others. Forced others to do what they wanted them to do. But the girl had refused to say anything and steeling herself, told him to do what he had to do calmly with a 'Fuck you' thrown in. With no tears, no pleading for mercy, he felt his erection wither into nothing. Who had ever said power was the greatest aphrodisiac? They were wrong – it was fear. He couldn't do it after all. Suppressing his frustration, he'd dragged her out of the room and decided to change to another tack – so he threatened her to kill the boyfriend instead in front of her. And he'd told the battered boy that he would kill Maggie. That worked – then both of them couldn't wait to give up their friends and their location. So, their love for each other was greater than their loyalty to their group. Never mind, he couldn't let them go but maybe he would keep the girl around to play with – she was a sweet honeybun and anyway, since the Apocalypse, his libido had been raging. These days, he couldn't get enough sex, even though he had the lovely, more than accommodating Andrea in his bed. For the boy, maybe Milton could use him for his experiments on the Biters.
Living in a prison! There would be lots of ammo and supplies there. Now he could go after them – if they wouldn't join him, they were against him. In any case, they remained a threat to him and to his authority. With Daryl's and Maggie's people out there, Woodbury would never be safe. He would have to take action. And soon.
Chapter 3: Daryl gets captured by the Governor. Takes place before the Governor forces the two brothers to fight each other. A flashback taking place before Chapter 2 which helps to explain Daryl's mental state.
With reference to torture and male-on-male rape because I can totally imagine the Governor doing that. You know me by now – I don't hold anything back. But please don't read if it will trigger. Also another chance to trawl through Merle's mind.
'What doesn't kill us makes us stronger.' Friedrich Nietzsche
'Mathein-Pathein.' Ancient Greek proverb – (loosely translated) 'To suffer is to learn.'
Daryl was cursing his captors and struggling as they hustled him to the interrogation cells. 'Gi' the fuck off me! I'm gonna fuck ya'll up!' He roared. Then, 'Merle! Merle! What did yer do with my brother?' he screamed as he cried for Merle. He knew that he was here somewhere at the Governor's side. Then managing to get one arm free, he punched the man on his right and it took three of them to subdue him. They pistol-whipped him unconscious and dragged him off.
He woke up, stripped naked except for his underwear, and tied to what looked like a dentist's chair. There was a cut above his temple that was still bleeding. He shook his head to clear it, felt a dull throb and shivered with a sudden chill despite the heat of the Georgia summer. The Governor was standing across the desk from him and one of his heavies was with him – an overweight Hispanic man in a scruffy black rock T-shirt. His heart began to race, he had special reasons, more than most, for not liking being restrained and he began to sweat, despite having no clothes on. But he arranged his facial expression into one of contemptuous hostility. Mustn't show fear. Don't give the bastard the satisfaction.
The Governor rubbed his hands. 'Welcome back.' He said courteously. 'Now if you tell us what we need to know, we can get this over quickly and I can let you go back to wherever you came from. Otherwise…' He nodded silently at the open bag of dental surgical instruments on the desk.
'Yeah, like you'll just let me go back home. Do you think I'm a fucking idiot or something? And where's my brother, Merle?' Daryl's voice rose aggressively. 'Fuck yer. I ain't telling yer nothin'.' The heavy-set man moved threateningly towards him but the Governor waved him back.
'You'll notice that we've taken the liberty of stripping our prisoners – even the females. Helps in the breaking down process, so my psychological advisor informs me. You should be glad that we didn't strip you completely like they did at Guantanamo Bay. It was a common interrogation technique there - you know how shy those Muslims about their bodies.'
'Fuck you, I ain't shy. '
'No, I don't believe youare.' The Governor eyed the lean Hunter's tanned, muscular body appreciatively with his one eye. And something about the way his gaze slithered all over him made Daryl's skin goosebump and a icy chill of fear stabbed his stomach. Was it going to happen again? Nevertheless, he deliberately made his face stony.
'We already know about the prison. How many of you? What supplies – food and ammo do you have? What is your leader's plan for us? We know that you are close to him.' The Governor asked patiently. 'Just tell me and we'll let you go.'
'I ain't giving up my people (he meant my family) to you fucking assholes. You'll have to kill me.' Daryl growled.
'Maybe. But we'll have lots of fun together first.' The Governor said cheerfully. Then changing tack, 'Forgive me but I couldn't help noticing ….- Where did you get all those terrible scars on your back?' 'Was Daddya little too handy with his belt?' He asked, his voice dripping with fake, syrupy sympathy.
Daryl broke off his aggressive glare at the Governor and trembled almost imperceptibly at the mention of his father. The Governor didn't miss it – he never missed anything. Even with only one good eye left. This particular prisoner was so vulnerableand this made him especially beautiful to the Governor. At that particular moment, he genuinely wanted to comfort him. So, he approached the prisoner slowly to tenderly stroke a stray strand of hair away from his forehead. As if to soothe him. But Daryl immediately flinched back from his fingers like they burned his skin. 'There, there.' The Governor reassured. 'We won't hurt you like your Daddy did. I promise.' But he was thinking triumphantly Not so tough after all. I can break you now.
'Tell me, did your Daddy fuck you too? ' The Governor sweetly asked suddenly, seemingly to invite confidence. 'He did, didn't he?'
But then the prisoner defiantly straightened up again. 'Yeah, he did.' He drawled candidly. 'And I killed him for it.' He spoke tonelessly but raised baby blue eyes so brimming with burning rage and hatred that even the Governor automatically took a step back. Although Daryl was tied to a chair and posed no threat. 'And I'll kill you too, you sick fuck.' Snarling his promise.
The Governor had been put ill at ease by this fierce and rough inbred redneck, despite himself. Yet the prisoner had more depth to him – he wasn't just the typical white trash stereotype. A particularly intriguing case, he'd never met a man who appeared to be so easily wounded and fragile one minute and then so ferociously strong and defiant the next. A fascinating complex mix of contrasts. What made him even more exciting was that he knew that Daryl could easily snap his neck in a fair fight. But that the Governor had him tied down and at his mercy. In his power. And he felt himself getting aroused with this thought, like with the girl. Even more so, because under different circumstances, this vulnerable prisoner would be a powerful enemy. Therefore, breaking him down was going to be a tricky but rewarding challenge.
Anyway, he'd had enough of the opening pleasantries. It was clear that the redneck needed some encouragement to talk. What was it with these people? First Maggie and now Daryl. Why did they defy him so? But he liked the stubborn ones, they were always more fun. If the bag of goodies on the table didn't work, he would have to try something else more persuasivehe thought as his eyes lingered longingly on Daryl's flat stomach and toned biceps that spoke of a healthy life led outdoors. Out in the green fields and gleaming forests, in the shining sun and fresh air. But he would never again feel the sun's warmth on his skin or breathe in the fresh morning breeze, smelling of pine, coming down from the mountains. The Governor would make sure of that.
Now, however, he nodded to his heavy to hold Daryl down and picked up a dental drill. 'Now, now.' He said soothingly, raising it aloft as Daryl began to thrash around but suddenly there was a loud knock on the door. The heavy covered Daryl's mouth with his hand so that he couldn't make a noise. 'What now!' The Governor barked impatiently. He'd been looking forward to breaking down thisparticular prisoner. He strode outside, carefully closing the door behind him. Seeing Merle, he wondered exactly how incest worked in Daryl's family. Had the father fucked the older brother as well, he thought, looking at Merle with new eyes? And had Merle and Daryl shared times of special brotherly bonding? He shook his head at the complexity of family relationships in the uneducated peasant under-classes. He wasn't even going to try to understand. So, he silently ushered the other brother into another empty interrogation room down the corridor. Because of course, he didn't want Merle to know that Daryl was there as a prisoner, it would spoil the nice surprise he had planned for him at tonight's party. The happy reunion. It was lucky that they hadn't heard each other's voices.
'What is it now?' he asked his second-in-command impatiently. There was trouble at the perimeter and the Governor would have to go out there himself. Probably no time to personally interrogate the prisoner today. Never mind. The details didn't matter – they outnumbered and probably outgunned the prison community with all the arms from the National Guard militia. After all, he didn't need more information to prepare his proactive strike against the prison. Nevertheless, he sighed in disappointment. Well, the festivities would have to do.
He told Merle to wait and went back to instruct his heavy to take Daryl back to his cell until tonight. To keep him trussed up but get him dressed first in his clothes, ready for tonight. It wouldn't do to scare the audience. But for all of them to leave him alone. He hoped the pretty-boy (pretty in a kind of unkempt, redneck way) killed his older brother, he had special fun-times planned for him. Involving whips, handcuffs and ball-gags. After all, his father had already broken him in, he must be good. He licked his lips lasciviously and felt himself becoming hard at the thought. No, he wouldn't let his boys touch him, he knew that they would fall upon this pretty-boy with his prominent high cheek-bones and muscular body like rabid dogs. Unless he gave them specific instructions not to and he wanted this sweet morsel all to himself. He had discovered raping other men –who needed to be restrained, was even more exciting than forcing himself on women although he had never classed himself as bisexual. But women kind of expected it if they were captured, didn't they? They always had that resigned look of terror in their eyes, expecting the worst. Just look at history and see what happened to women. It was a sanctioned weapon of war. And it was war – war against the prison community who insisted on defying his authority.
Back in the cells, Daryl tried to stop shaking, to bring himself finally under control. It'd been a close call there with the drill until the Governor was mercifully interrupted. And Daryl had seen the look in the bastard's eye, knew what it meant. Worse – two of the guards including the Hispanic heavy and another weasely one he didn't know had already roughly grabbed his ass and groped his crotch before they'd allowed him to get dressed in his dirty ragged clothes and tied his hands behind him again. They'd mockingly called him 'Daddy Fucker' and 'Sweet Cheeks' and laughed dirtily at that. Finally, the Hispanic (the other asshole had called him Caesar) had stroked his cheek in a way that made Daryl's skin crawl and whispered in his ear 'Maybe he'll let us play with you later, pretty boy. After he's done with you.' Daryl had shuddered and cringed and told them to 'Fuck off and to get their filthy hands off him'before the ferret-faced guard had punched him. He'd only just come to again and he had no idea of how much time had passed. His hands were still bound tightly behind his back but apart from that, he seemed whole and intact. Apart from another throbbing bruise blooming on his other temple.
In the dark stinking cell, he prayed that they would stay away and instinctively tried to send out calls with his mind to Merle to come and save him, Merle! Merle! He's got me! He's gonna hurt me! Really hurt me!Because without being even aware of it, he'd reverted back to beingLittle Darlena mocked by Merle for not being tough enough to fight his own battles. But even Little Darlena had finally stood up to their father, pushed to the limits of his endurance when he'd murdered him and got away with it. And Merle had been gone. Finally done what Merle had never had the guts to do although he'd fantasied aloud about it almost daily. Because whenever Daryl had been afraid or in trouble, these silent calls from his mind had often seemed to summon Merle to wherever Daryl was. If he was near enough, that was. Anyway, his big brother had more often than not seemed to know when Daryl was scared and come running to save him. Whether it was some bigger kids picking on him until Merle taught him how to fight properly 'Yer better tough'n up, yer littl' pussy so I don't always have to come a- runnin' to save yer useless hide'or when their father was on one of his drunken rampages, as usual. And given him a light punch on the arm or kick to the leg to emphasise his point. Daryl had heard about this phenomenon with identical twins but never with ordinary brothers but him and Merle weren't exactly normal siblings from a normal family. Maybe that was why. And they'd never spoken openly about it but it was just something that was.
Merle was walking the city wall perimeter with the Governor, discussing how the defences could be reinforced and where best those on wall duty should be placed. Making good use of his military knowledge and training. Below, the inhuman growls and groans of the Biters could be heard but at safe distance. On the way, he saw Andrea practising target practice, shooting down a Biter with another woman and she waved a greeting to him and the Governor. Suddenly, something made him think of his brother. Just a feeling that he was in trouble and that he was here in Woodbury. He mentally pushed away the prickle of fear running up and down his spine. It would not do good to bring up his brother to the Governor. Merle no longer trusted the man – he seemed to become more and more unhinged of late – especially since he'd lost his eye. And Merle had lied to him about Michonne – it had just seemed easier at the time. He knew that he man did not forgive errors easily. It was just one little white lie – she was as good as dead in the forest, wasn't she? He couldn't have found out could he? He'd seen what happened to those the Governor deemed had betrayed him – many ended up in the screamer pits or in his Saturday night gladiator shows. There was going to be another freak show tonight.
Later that night, in the arena, Merle would see how the Governor was looking at his baby brother and he'd instinctively got in front of the disorientated Daryl to shield him from the bastard's lecherous gaze with his broader body. He'd never pegged the asshole for being a low-down dirty homo fag. But of course he'd heard the rumours about what happened to prisoners – both malesand females, just had brushed them off. After all, he owed the man his life. Then, he'd looked back over his shoulder and checked Daryl over like he used to when they were kids – was he hurt? Had the sick fuck hurt him?Strange, how these thoughts came to him now although his baby brother was a fully-grown man and fully capable of handling himself. Had proved it numerous times in fact - protected the group who depended on him for their survival. And despite himself, Merle found himself thinking these fiercely protective big brother thoughts. Like he was thirteen-year oldBig Bad Bro Merle and Daryl was five-year old Little Daryl again. Like when they were kids. Old habits die hard, he thought bitterly. Instincts too.
Anyway, he knew what the crazy bastard was capable of. And if he'd touched his baby brother, Merle was going to come back and kill the bastard when they got out of there. Kill him slowly. With a whole world of hurt. However, he saw with relief that although looking thinner than usual and with a couple of nasty bruises on his head, Daryl seemed none the worse for wear. But he knew what would happen to Daryl if his brother by some miracle won this fight to the death. The Governor would kill him anyway after he'd had his fun with him.
Luckily, Daryl didn't notice the Governor right away because after they'd untied his hands and taken off the blindfold, he was gazing around fearfully at the screaming audience. At the Biters being held back for now, trying to get his bearings. Before his facial expression hardened and he went into fighting mode. Swinging from side to side with his fists up. Like Merle had taught him. But Merle wasn't gonna let anything happen to his baby brother. He had to save Daryl – like he used to when they were kids. Before he went away and abandoned him. This time him and Daryl were going to be together forever and he never going to leave him ever again. He was going to save them both. But he would have to hurt Daryl first – this was what the psycho had forced him to. Hurt Daryl first in order to save him.