Chapter 4
"It's past sunset, why don't you just wait until morning? We both know how dangerous it gets out there after dark."
"Tomorrow may be too late. Daryl's the kind of person who always has to be doing something; he has to keep himself busy otherwise he just starts getting agitated. I'm gonna get these clothes washed real quick and then I'm on my way. Jesus, I'm sorry but this cannot wait until tomorrow."
Walking off to the washtubs I wished for my old washer and dryer. I was able to block out most of the whispered chatter from the others until my focus was broken by Gregory. Some would call him a decent leader, yet others like myself thought of him as nothing more than a thumbtack stuck on our asses. He didn't do jack shit around this place except make deals with the Devil and sit in his mansion all day with his brandy. The deal he struck with Negan all those months ago had us scavenging almost daily just to survive. Then some cowboy and his band of misfits come riding into town and the son of a bitch strikes another deal. Thanks to Gregory, we have almost nothing.
"Before you even say one word to me Gregory, I have a deal of my own with Negan. I'll be out of your hair by the end of the month and there'll be one less mouth to feed. Get the fuck out of my way, I have shit I need to do. Make yourself useful and go sit back in your office; staying out of the way is the only thing you're good at these days."
Wringing out the flannel shirt until most of the water was out, I worked on the jeans next scrubbing away at the heavy blood stains on the knees and cuffs. What the hell could Daryl have been doing the last few years that would cause his clothes to get this filthy? He was never really the type of person to care all that much about personal hygiene but he'd at least shower a few days a week and he had clean clothes. From the looks of it though he seems to have been enjoying himself until recently.
"Gregory, I thought I told you to fucking get lost."
The sun had fully set and a small group of people were making their rounds lighting the torches. The fires were burning bright from the forges; the sound of hammers hitting molten metals was the calm I needed after today's events. Getting up from my spot at the washtubs, I made my way to the forges. The heat was intense but it was the only way these clothes were gonna get dry now that the light was gone. I still had a decent ride ahead of me to get The Kingdom if I wanted a chance of catching Daryl before he took off.
"The deal you made, it has something to do with this Darren, right?"
"His name is Daryl. My deal with Negan is none of your fucking business."
I laid the clothes out close enough to the fire that the heat would dry them quick but not too close to where I would risk burning myself if something popped out.
"Oh come on now, you know as well as I do that Margie and her group are planning to go after Negan. You could be the lynch pin that could be their undoing. Tell Negan what they're up to and maybe things could go our way just this once."
"How the fuck can you get names so jumbled up? Honestly, their names are not that difficult to remember. Maggie and her group are thinking about everyone that's under Negan's thumb. They want to be free like the rest of us; the difference though between them and us is that they are doing something about it while we sit on our fucking hands and kneel before a tyrant. If you wanna be a fucking snitch be my guest but know this: if you go through with it you'll be the first to die in this war. Cowards have no place in this world."
Kneeling down to feel the cloth next to the fire, I thought that they were dry enough. I could tie them off on the bike and let the wind dry them the rest of the way. It's probably the first time since this all started that Daryl's had clean clothes. The bike wasn't too far from the gates and my bag that Simon had given me was sitting carelessly on the ground. My paranoia struck me suddenly as I realized that I had accepted a pre-packed bag from someone and failed to check the contents of the bag. Tracking devices would be pretty useless these days but battery operated digital recorders and long range radios were still in working order.
Rather than fucking with it tonight I left the bag on the ground where I left it. If there was anything in there that one of the Saviors packed as a means of trying to track Daryl down then it was best it stayed here. Maybe in the morning, after I found Daryl, I could come back and go through it; find out what's in there. If there's anything in there the Saviors could use against us maybe I'd have a chance to destroy it before they came back. The extreme side of my brain started trying to rationalize that perhaps it was rigged with a bomb to go off at some predetermined time. I think it's more than safe to say that my paranoia has taken over quite a bit since this all started.
The possibilities of what was inside the bag were running rampant through my mind. The more I thought about it the more I found it was going to wear on me until it was opened. Picking it up off the ground, I slung a strap over my shoulder and made way over to the trailers where Maggie and Sasha were staying. Stopping just short of the door, knocking hesitantly I waited for one of them to answer. I wasn't here when Gregory struck the deal with Maggie and the rest of her group but when they all showed up the other day I could hear Gregory telling them their deal was null and void.
"You're back?" Maggie's question brought me out of my memories.
"In the flesh. Simon gave me this bag before I left and I just didn't feel comfortable opening it on my own. Since being here my paranoia's ratcheted up more than a few notches. Something keeps eating away at me thinking they put something in there that'll tell them where Daryl is if I don't bring him back."
Maggie seemed to nod in understanding, opening the door further to allow me entrance. Sasha was standing next to her, taking the bag from my shoulder and carefully setting it down on the table. The tension that filled the tiny room was stifling as the three of us sat around the table under the glow of a lantern.
"Maggie, maybe you shouldn't be here; ya know, just in case it happens to be a bomb or some kind of other explosive. I wouldn't want to be responsible for you and your baby dying if…" I cut myself off, shaking my head slightly, "maybe I should just take this with me and open it somewhere between here and there. At least if there are explosives in there I'll be the only one risking it; maybe I'll take a few walkers out with me."
"And just where do you think you're going at this time of night? With Daryl's things no less?" Sasha questioned, raising a brow. She was more than wary of me already, saying what I just did seemed to have raised her suspicions further.
"Let's find out first what's in here then I'll tell you. If there's any kind of recording device or long range radio the Saviors could use I want to get rid it now before they can use it against us."
Cautiously Sasha grabbed the bag, dragging it across the table until it sat in front her. Grasping the zipper at the top we collectively held our breaths as the zipper slowly moved down its track. As it reached the end of its track we carefully exhaled as nothing had happened; though that didn't mean we were finished just yet. I tentatively reached a hand out to snag one of the straps and dragged the bag over until it was in front of me. Releasing another breath I carefully lifted the top of the bag until the mouth was fully opened. Maggie stood, bringing the lantern over so we could see what was inside the darkened bag.
"It's nothing but some canned food, a couple guns, a change of clothes, and some toiletries."
Leaning back in our chairs Sasha and I glanced at each other, both of us letting out a small nervous laugh.
"That doesn't mean there can't be something in one of the other compartments." I stated, carefully pulling the clothes from the bag.
"Good point, but if they want Daryl back and are wanting you to do it I don't think they'd kill you just yet."
"Sasha, you weren't there at the Sanctuary. You and the rest of Alexandria have only been under Negan's rule for less than a month; you have no idea what he and the Saviors are capable of. No one has ever escaped from the Sanctuary and not come back changed. They are either a shadow of their former selves or walkers."
"How do you even know this? Today was the first time you've ever been, right?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Let's finish going through this bag; I've gotta get going and the longer I stay here the more time I'm wasting."
We continued to search the bag, emptying out the contents onto the table and even feeling around the lining to see if there were any devices that could've been sewn in. But we found nothing. Once the bag was re-packed I sat in my chair shaking my head in perplexed thought. Simon's sneer passed before my face as he handed the bag over. Something just didn't seem right; something was off. Daryl's clothes were free of any small device that could be hidden inside the pockets. I would've shocked the shit out of myself when they hit the water if there was something electronic hidden somewhere.
"I'm giving this to Jesus and I'll ask him to get rid of it. Once it's outside of this trailer I'll tell you where it is I'm going."
Getting up from my chair, I walked towards the door crossing the threshold to find the man I was about to go seek standing before me. He took the bag from my hand with a knowing look and replaced it with another, whispering in my ear that this new bag had everything I'd need plus a little extra. I gave him a small smiling in thanks as he turned to go on his way. Shutting the door I scrubbed my hands over my face thinking of the best way to let Sasha and Maggie in on my plan without making them think that I'm taking Gregory's suggestion under advisement.
"Negan wants me to bring Daryl back. I know you brought him to the Kingdom after I was taken. I was gonna head over there and see if I could catch him before he got a wild hair up his ass and left. If Daryl has retained anything about himself from the old world it would've been that he can't sit still for the life of him. Gregory wanted me to rat ya'll out to Negan; about how you're trying to get everyone to rise up against him. I'm not gonna do that, but what I am gonna do is get Daryl and bring him back here. Once I get him enough supplies I'm gonna send him out in the woods until your group is ready to attack. He'll be able to track and observe their movements from the safety of the woods while you formulate a plan."
"Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to help Daryl, help us? You have every opportunity in the world to take Gregory up on his suggestion but you're not."
It was a damn good question that Maggie posed, one that I hadn't full thought out. Truthfully I didn't know why I was doing this but there was just something about the way Daryl looked when I saw him his morning that resonated with me.
"No one should be a slave to a tyrant. When this all started I promised myself that if I ever found some place I could live that I wouldn't live in slavery. Negan came and made us like this just after I got here. Gregory let him without so much as a fight. I believe that you and your people are right; we have to fight and we have to take back what's ours. But I'm not a fighter, I just...I…I don't know what I am, but I'm not a fighter. I'm not strong enough to take down a Savior let alone a group of them; I'm not strong enough to stand next to either of you and fight for my freedom or someone else's. I told Negan that I'd bring Daryl back and then I'm gone. I never told him that I was bringing you with me to beat down his front door."
They looked at me for a moment before Maggie opened her mouth, carefully searching for the words, making sure she fully understood what it was I was saying.
"You're going to Daryl back to the Sanctuary and you want us to follow, right? Bring the war right to his door, catch him off guard. What happens to you, you just disappear with your tail tucked between your legs?"
"If you want to see me as a coward go ahead. I don't like confrontation for good reason. I need to get going. If you see Daryl before I get to the Kingdom let him know what's going on."
"Did you know Daryl before all of this?"
Sasha's question hit me out of left field. My hand froze on the door knob as I struggled with whether or not to tell them the truth.
Ultimately I decided to keep my silence up and let them think what they will about me. If they wanted answers they could ask Daryl after I brought him back. My steps turned to strides as I all but ran towards the gates where the bike remained parked.
Climbing onto the bike and switching the lone headlight on, I squeezed through the opening of the gate that was just wide enough to let me out without letting the walkers in. No doubt that the noise this thing made would attract them in a heartbeat but at least it had some get up and go to it.
"So…"
I started, unsure of where to start exactly. Daryl fixed the small hole in my foot and had a band aid over it yet we were both kind of frozen in place, unsure of what could be said to break the rising tension in the small bathroom.
"You said I left something in the truck?"
He looked up at me for a second before bringing his eyes back down and nodding in response. Standing, he reached into his back pocket, producing the small can of pepper spray that I had on me earlier. He set the container on the sink next to me before returning his hand to his mouth to chew on his thumb once more. Daryl had almost a child-like quality to him the way he carried himself; perhaps it wasn't his fault though. Given the stories that I heard around town I can't say that I really blame him for remaining in that kind of state.
"You said you also came up here for dinner. I made some spaghetti for dinner last night and was gonna have leftovers tonight, if you're interested. It's not the best in the world but at least it's better than nothing. Also have some garlic bread if you want some of that too."
Again Daryl glanced up and quickly back down, nodding in response as he traded one thumb for the other.
"Why don't you go sit on the couch and make yourself comfortable while I go get dinner? It's Thursday night so there's really nothing on t.v. at this time of night, I do have a decent movie collection though if you wanna go through that."
Once again I was given the silent treatment but he reluctantly followed me out of the bathroom like a lost puppy with his head still hanging low. We went our separate ways with Daryl sitting on the couch and myself going into the kitchen to pull the leftover spaghetti out of the fridge. The sounds from the t.v. reached my ears as I was pulling a pair of plates from one of the cabinets; furrowing my brows in curiosity I peeked into the living room to see Daryl on the couch watching what was left of the 7 pm newscast. The weatherman was on showing the prediction for the next five days. I don't know why we needed someone telling us about the weather though, it's summer in Georgia afterall. My prediction: hot as fucking hell with heat indexes hovering around hotter than the sun.
Going back into the kitchen I doled out the spaghetti onto the plates making sure that Daryl's plate had a bit extra. Covering the plate with some paper towels and throwing it into the microwave for the next two and a half minutes, I went back into the living room to sit on the couch next to Daryl but making sure the cushion between us remained unoccupied. Everyone in town knew about the abuse that Merle and Daryl were subjected to when they kids and I wanted to make sure Daryl knew he had an escape if he needed it.
"Never been in a place this clean before."
"Oh hell, this place is a pig-sty; the cats have got their toys all over the damn place and tore their boxes to shreds."
"If you wanna see a pig-sty you should see-" He stopped himself short of completing his thoughts, looking down in shame.
Before I could press him to finish, the microwave started going off. Excusing myself from the room I scurried into the kitchen to throw a couple of pieces of garlic bread onto Daryl's plate. Setting the timer for another 15 seconds I popped my head into the living room asking if he wanted anything to drink with dinner. I had a few bottles of beer left in the fridge along with some tea, water, and lemonade. Once more Daryl's answer was muffled and I had to ask him to repeat himself. This was something he was really gonna have to break if he ended up getting the job at my dad's shop. He's gonna have to learn to put some lung power into what he was saying over the roar of an engine.
With the final dings of the microwave I pulled the plate out, setting it on the counter as I grabbed the beer he requested from the fridge. As I walked the items into the living room I found Daryl flipping through the channels to find something better on as the news had just ended. He settled on some reality show that displayed images of a home in complete shambles; mountains of things piled on top of other things, threatening to topple over at any second. They were interviewing (I'm assuming) the homeowner who was trying to rationalize that they kept their things because their kids may need it one day.
"Entertaining?" I asked, handing the plate and beer over.
"Not really but that's what a real pig-sty looks like. What ya got here is the cleanest I've ever seen let alone been in."
At the realization of his words his eyes widened slightly as he dropped his head, playing with the fork he held in his hand. I could only think that wherever he lived could be similar to the images shown on t.v. and it was more likely than not due to Merle. I said nothing as I went back into the kitchen to get my dinner in the microwave. As I waited for mine to heat up I couldn't help but wonder how true the rumors around town were about Merle and Daryl. Yes, they had reputations but that was mainly because their father was a bastard. Just in the short time that Daryl's been here he's been extremely shy and has barely said much of anything.
The timer on the microwave going off brought me out of my thoughts; I've got to quit zoning out like this. Grabbing my plate I walked back into the living room to take up residence where I was before, ensuring that the cushion between us remained unoccupied. We sat quietly watching the show that Daryl had turned on until a therapist they were interviewing for another segment was trying to deduce that the person's habits were due in part to some type of trauma that occurred during childhood. Having missed the first half of the show it seemed likely that one could draw a link between a hoard that overtook the house to some type of traumatic childhood experience but who knows, I'm not a therapist. Once the therapist started talking about traumatic childhoods Daryl quickly picked the remote up from the couch and muted the t.v. set, frantically trying to find something different on.
"What? Ya got something ya wanna say to me?" Daryl glanced over at me the anger clearly painted across his features; his eyes taking on a menacing appearance as opposed to the relaxed nature they had only moments ago.
"No. Your business is none of mine. Not my place to pry, if you want to tell me I won't think any less of you. I don't know what to think of you now but with all the rumors that fly around town about you and Merle who really knows what the truth is anymore? I mean other than you two."
Setting my plate on the empty cushion between us I got up from the couch and made my way over to the tiny entertainment center that contained all of my movies. It wasn't the largest collection on the planet but it was decent. I had not the slightest clue what kind of movies Daryl liked or if he even watched any for that matter. Glancing over my shoulder as I seated myself on the floor I eyed Daryl for a moment before opening the cabinets to pick a movie out.
"What'd ya put in?"
I watched with careful scrutiny as Daryl set his plate on the couch next to mine before picking his beer up off the floor. His temper was all over the place right now and truthfully I was a bit fearful of how he'd react to the movie title if I told him.
"Patton. I'm not trying to draw lines between things that aren't there. I just thought it might be something you'd enjoy watching. I know you probably don't wanna hear it, especially from the likes of someone like me but I know your father was a heartless bastard and I'm sorry you and Merle both had to endure that. I thought that maybe putting this movie on might make you relax a little bit. You seem to enjoy picking fights at the bar, yeah I've been down at the watering hole on Friday nights when you'd go on a bender and beat some guy up for saying something against ya. Patton would get in trouble for the way he did things, for the things he said; this kinda thing seemed to be right up your alley. If you don't like it, shut it off and find something different to watch. Either that or you can go home. Your choice."
He grunted a bit, lifting a thumb to his mouth to chew on once again. Getting up from the floor I picked the plates up from the couch and walked them into the kitchen, dropping them off in the sink and running a bit of water over them. I returned to the living room a minute or so later with a pair of beers in hand, offering one to Daryl just as Patton had finished his speech to the troops in the opening scene of the movie.
About fifteen minutes in, Daryl turned to me asking if I knew what the official title of a three-star general was. My head twisted faster than I thought it did with my brows furrowed in confusion. Frowning and shaking my head I turned towards Daryl giving him my full attention. He explained that Merle had been in the military for a brief time before he got booted out; that he was in long enough to learn a little bit about ranks and weapons.
"Three-star is known as a lieutenant general; two-star is a major general."
Guess you do learn something new every day.
"What else did Merle teach you?"
"Merle didn't teach me shit; most everything I know I had to learn for myself."
"Like what?"
"You don't wanna hear about, you're just asking to be nice." Taking a swig from his bottle, he stuffed it between the cushion as he resumed watching Patton shoot at a pair of German planes with an ivory handled revolver. The smirk on his face and the way his eyes lit up was something to behold.
"When I was little my dad took me camping once, he was trying to teach me to fend for myself in the event that anything ever happened to him or my mom. One thing that I'll never forget is when I slipped and fell down off a ridge and ended up in the lake below. My grandparents on my mom's side owned a farm about 20-30 miles outside of Atlanta; we were out there camping when it happened. My dad made me climb from the bottom of the ridge all the way back up. I was about ten when it happened; was pretty banged up by the time I finally made it back up but I did it. My grandma threw a fit when she saw me all bloody and bruised but my dad was the happiest he'd ever been."
Daryl sat there contemplating what I had just told him, debating whether or not he should say something in return.
"My old man was off on a bender with some waitress. Merle was doing another stint in juvie. Didn't even know I was gone. I made my way back though. Went straight into the kitchen and made myself a sandwich. No worse for wear.Except my ass itched something awful."
"You get lost or something?"
"Nine days in the woods eating berries, wiping my ass with poison oak."
Chocking on the mouthful of beer I was trying to swallow I couldn't help the snort that escaped as the grin started to spread across my face. This kind of interaction is something I'm almost certain Daryl has never dealt with before. Everything around him seems to be centered around anger and violence.
"That's what ya get for laughing at my itchy ass."
We fell into a comfortable silence afterwards until the movie was over. The longer the movie went on the more relaxed Daryl seemed to have become. It was nearly 10:00 by the time the movie was over and Daryl was starting to fall asleep on my couch. His head was tilting back while his eyes began drooping shut.
"Why don't you go on home? You seem pretty worn out; I'll call you around 11:00 tomorrow morning and let you know what's gonna happen as far as your application at the shop."
Daryl nodded in agreement, heaving himself off the couch as he trudged his way to the door.
"I'll be here at 6:45 to give ya that lift to work."
Shutting the door behind him and throwing the chain in place I couldn't help but think about what he told me. One the one hand the fact that their old man was too busy fucking a waitress to even care that his youngest boy was lost in the woods for nine days was infuriating. No child should ever have to go through that. But on the other he did make it back home from the sounds of it with nothing more than poison oak on his ass. Hell, the thought of that was making my ass itch.
As I turned from the door to head to the bedroom another thought started taking hold of my mind: was there really more to Daryl Dixon under that tough exterior shell? Was there any tiny shred of him that remained untouched from all of the abuse he endured as a kid? Could the scars be healed?
