Hello again,
I'd like to sincerely thank everyone who has reviewed and alerted this. It means a lot to me than people are enjoying it.
Many thanks to suzume42 on tumblr for her lightning fast beta work!
"I'm Danny. Danny Royce," the kid said, his eyes still darting nervously over their group. He tossed the bat into the passenger side of the Outback and raked one hand back through his hair. "Listen…where you heading? It's not safe to be out on the roads this close to dark. Geeks'll see your headlights if you go much farther."
"Geeks? I'm sorry, what?" Grimes questioned, confused. Royce shook his head.
"Sorry…the Walkers. We call 'em geeks. Doesn't scare the kids as much."
Daryl snorted quietly, though everyone ignored him. He didn't get why people were so hell-bent on shielding kids from the reality of the world. It wasn't doing them any favors to be pretending that things hadn't gone straight to shit. His pa may have been a worthless bastard, but he'd always made sure he and Merle knew exactly what was what, and how to handle themselves.
"Ah. We're heading down into the city," Grimes hedged, obviously not willing to trust the kid as much as he was trusting them. The kid's eyebrows shot to his hairline.
"At night? Dude, you're crazy! I don't care what kind of bolt hole you think you've got set up, sun'll be down before you hit the outskirts."
Grimes sighed heavily. The delay with the RV and…and the mechanic had put them far behind schedule. The kid was right; there was no way they'd make the CDC before nightfall. He doffed his hat and wiped at his brow with the back of his hand.
"Dad? What's going on?" Almost as one, the group turned to find the Grimes kid and the blonde girl had exited the car they were riding in, and approached the knot of adults. He rolled his eyes heavenward…one would think that their mothers might want to keep a closer eye on them in the goddamn apocalypse.
"Nothing, Carl—you and Sophia get back in the car. We're gonna be leaving here in a minute," Grimes said. Walsh immediately stepped forward and started shepherding the kids back towards the RV.
"You got kids with you?" Royce called suddenly. He seemed to have gotten a handle on some of the nervousness and fear, though he was still practically vibrating with the need to get moving again.
Grimes nodded. "To be honest, we'd appreciate a safe place to stop for the night. We've had a hard few days…lost a lot of people. We don't have much to offer in trade, but we can be extra eyes and weapons on lookout."
The kid stared hard at them for a few moments, his gaze mostly focused on Grimes. After a few heartbeats, though, he seemed to come to a decision. "We're holed up at a KOA campground about five miles back up the highway. Anyone's welcome—but you gotta prove no one's bit."
It wasn't a terribly surprising offer…however much Daryl didn't care for Grimes, he had to admit the man kind of exuded trustworthiness. Grimes glanced around the rest of them, getting nods of assent from Andrea, T-Dog, and Dale. He just shrugged. It didn't particularly matter to him where they spent the night, though a campground with actual people sounded like a better deal than just circling their vehicles at a rest stop.
"That's fair," Grimes said. "We'll be on our way tomorrow."
Royce nodded. "All right…all right, just follow me. But please, we gotta hurry, okay?" With that, the kid ducked back into his vehicle, firing up the engine and backing it up a few yards to give the RV room to turn around in the road.
Andrea and T-Dog started jogging back to the van they were traveling in, as Dale turned and made his way back to the RV. He turned to head back to his truck, when Grimes' voice stopped him.
"Dixon," he said softly. He stopped, raising a questioning eyebrow. "How good a mechanic are you?"
He narrowed his eyes slightly, but there was no note of condescension in Grimes' voice. He seemed honestly curious. Daryl tilted his head slightly, considering. "Been workin' on engines since I was big enough ta' see over the hood. Ain't a whole lot I can't do with one," he said finally, opting for honesty instead of a belligerent comment. He had an idea where Grimes was going with this line of questioning.
Grimes huffed out a sigh to himself. "Look, we're running low on just about everything. Depending on how well supplied this kid's camp is, we might be able to trade for some things we need. I don't want to give up any of the guns or ammo…would you be willing to offer up some maintenance on any vehicles they've got? Maybe do some hunting?"
Daryl could tell by the tense set of Grimes' shoulders, the way he was looking at him, that the other man was expecting him to tell him to go fuck himself. It was his first instinct, to be honest—but something held him back. He'd seen the pitifully few boxes of canned food they'd loaded up into the RV, and their medicine stores hadn't even taken up a whole box. If they were going to try and trade for supplies, there really wasn't anything they had to offer besides their weapons cache…and nobody was fool enough to give up guns and ammo these days unless there was no other choice.
Besides…Grimes was asking. Not just striding in, announcing his plan, and expecting Daryl to just fall in line with it. And it was a good idea.
"Fine," he muttered, not giving himself time to second-guess himself. A flash of surprise chased itself across Grimes' features before he schooled his expression.
"Thank you," he said sincerely, and his hand twitched as though he wanted to clap Daryl on the shoulder. He aborted the move, though, much to Daryl's relief.
"But you best check with me 'fore ya' start promisin' anything," he added gruffly. Truthfully, he didn't trust that Grimes would know what would be a fair trade for any mechanical work…he'd seen how helplessly Grimes had been staring at the RV's radiator hose when he and the old man had been working on it.
Grimes just nodded his assent, something that might have been an amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He let out and irritated little huff of breath and turned away from Grimes, shouldering the crossbow as he headed back towards the truck. The RV was about halfway through what looked like about a fifty point turn to get it facing in the right direction, and he shook his head in disgust.
Damn people.
He wasn't sure what he was expecting Royce's camp to look like, but he was surprised at how well-organized it seemed.
The kid had indeed led them about five miles back the way they had been going, before taking a turn-off onto a stretch of graveled road. He could recall seeing a few signs for the KOA grounds as they'd driven towards Atlanta, now that he thought about it, but he hadn't considered it as a viable stop. One thing everyone had learned very quickly was that places where people had congregated before the outbreak were to be avoided at all costs.
The grounds Royce led them to, though, obviously hadn't been hit that hard. The gravel road went on for a little under a mile, before dead-ending in a small courtyard under a wooden arch painted with the familiar red and yellow KOA logo. A cluster of buildings ringed the courtyard—a fairly large meeting hall, a set of public restrooms, a snack bar, and a building made of cinderblocks with a sign on the side that advertised communal showers and a laundry room. Not a bad set-up, particularly if they still had running water.
There were three family-size tents set up on the ground right in front of the meeting hall…but judging by the number of vehicles that were lined up along one side of the meeting hall's wide, wraparound porch, there were considerably more than three families camping out here. He counted ten trucks, cars, and SUV's, in addition to the kid's Outback. His suspicions were confirmed when multiple people started pouring out of the meeting hall as soon as the crunch of gravel under tires became audible.
Somehow, the caravan had worked out this time so that he and Walsh were in the lead right behind the Royce kid. The RV was following them, while Grimes' car and the van T-Dog, Andrea, and her sister were riding in brought up the rear. There hadn't really been time to talk about it, but he rather suspected that if he and Walsh (or just Walsh…probably not just him) had seen something suspicious as they came upon the camp and had swerved around to gun it back onto the highway, the other vehicles would have followed immediately.
He let his eyes rake over the gathering crowd as he pulled the truck to a stop right behind Walsh's Jeep. It was a good-sized knot of people—only a little smaller than the group at the quarry had been. Probably around twenty. He spotted several kids, though as it became obvious that Royce had returned to the camp with a line of other vehicles, a couple of women started herding the kids back up into the meeting hall. A couple of men armed with hunting rifles stepped to the front of the crowd—one a grizzled old relic in a battered Army jacket that had to be at least Dale's age, the other a middle-aged man with ash blond hair that was just starting to go gray. The younger of the two was still tall and imposing, despite the small beer gut that was starting to show over his belt, and something about the way he carried himself put Daryl in mind of Grimes. He'd lay odds that this was the man in charge of this group.
All in all, they seemed cautious…but not dangerous. The presence of women and children didn't necessarily preclude anyone from being an asshole, but Daryl's initial instincts told him that this was a group much like the quarry camp—just banding together for survival. And his instincts had never steered him wrong, yet.
Nonetheless, he left the crossbow on the passenger seat as he exited the truck, instead grabbing his own rifle off the gun rack mounted behind the seats. He kept the muzzle pointing toward the ground as he walked up to where Grimes, Walsh, Andrea, and T-Dog had clustered by Walsh's Jeep, but he kept it ready.
The Royce kid spilled out of the Outback almost as soon as he'd thrown it into park, dragging a bulging Army duffle out with him. Yeah, nothing worth stealing, his ass…Daryl had totally called that one. The blond man with the gun almost wilted in obvious relief as the kid exited the car, walking forward and ignoring the rest of them. He moved with a fairly pronounced limp, Daryl noted.
A cry of relief from near the back of the crowd drew Daryl's attention then, and a few people shuffled out of the way to let a plump, matronly-looking woman with a head of frizzy, gray-streaked red hair the same shade as the kid's run forward. She raced over to Royce and threw her arms around him without preamble, burying her face in his shoulder as the blond man wrapped one arm around them both. The kid's parents, then.
The kid hugged them back for a moment, before suddenly pushing himself away, eyes wide. "Wait, wait, Mom listen…" he began.
The woman raised her head from his shoulder, glancing towards the clearly-empty passenger side of the Outback. Even from several feet away, Daryl saw her face go absolutely white.
"Oh God…no, oh no!" she wailed instantly, clutching her son's arms as her knees seemed to go weak. Despite himself, Daryl averted his eyes. Well…that answered the question of who this mysterious 'G' was that the kid had been so terrified for. He'd never had cause to experience it himself, but he knew a parent's grief when he saw it. A quick glance at the others showed equally uncomfortable expressions on their faces. Grimes was staring at the little family with laser-like intensity, his jaw working soundlessly.
"Mom! Mom, wait, no…he's alive. He's alive, I promise!" the kid protested, reaching up to wrap his hands around his mother's. "He's all right," the kid said again, his voice cracking slightly. "He…he told me to leave him. I didn't want to! But he's hurt pretty bad-not bit! He busted his ankle up, but he's not bit. He got up on one of the roofs and told me to go for help. He's fine Mom, he's fine."
The kid's father was just as pale as his wife, but he drew himself together as his son started babbling again. "All right…all right, everyone just calm down," he said authoritatively. He glanced over at their little group, eyes immediately zeroing in on Grimes' uniform. With visible effort, he forced his own panic back. "Jill, George, take Danny inside…find out what happened."
The guy in the Army jacket immediately stepped over to the woman and the kid, gently gripping the woman's elbow. He started to pull her back through the crowd, who parted silently, stepping away as though the pair's obvious fear and grief were something catching. It was impossible to miss how much the man wanted to follow his wife and son, find out what had happened to his other kid—but he made his way over to them determinedly.
"Who are you?" he asked bluntly. There wasn't any anger or belligerence in the words, though, and Daryl supposed the man could be forgiven for skipping over niceties. Judging by the conversation they'd just overheard, the man had enough to worry about without possibly dangerous strangers showing up at his camp.
Grimes stepped up straight away, extending his hand. "My name's Rick Grimes," he said calmly. "We ran into your son on the highway a few miles back…he was kind enough to offer us a place to stay for the night."
The man looked Grimes up and down, before flicking his gaze over the rest of them and their vehicles. After a tense moment, though, he offered his own hand. "Andrew Royce. Sorry…it's been a while since we had any new folks show up. Was starting to think there weren't any more to be honest." He sighed heavily and rubbed one hand over the back of his neck. "Anyone's welcome here for as long as they want, as long as they pull their own weight and don't make trouble."
"We 'preciate that," Grimes said. "Though I'm afraid we don't have much to offer. We…our own camp got swarmed the night before last. We lost a lot of people, and most of our supplies. We plan on movin' on soon as we can."
Andrew was nodding as Grimes talked, and his face showed neither surprise nor disappointment at the fact that they wouldn't be able to provide much in the way of trade for a space in the camp. As Grimes fell silent, Andrew reached up and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry about your people. You're welcome to share what we have, though I'll ask for some help with the watch and some general camp chores tonight. And I'm sorry…but we'll want proof none of your people have been bitten. Price of admission, everyone pays it."
Grimes inclined his head. "We understand. One of our group was bit…but he's…he's not with us anymore."
"I'll send a couple of our people over…just park your vehicles so they're not blocking the way out. You can either set up tents outside, or there's cots in the meeting hall. That's where most of us are. The showers are still working, but there's no hot water, obviously. Now, I'm sorry…but my wife, my boy…" The man's composure started to crack, and he darted a look over his shoulder at the meeting hall.
"Go, go," Grimes said immediately, waving him off. "Take care of your family. If you don't mind, a few of us will come up later—we can talk then."
Andrew nodded distractedly and turned on his heel, limping back towards the meeting hall. He slowed down briefly to talk to two people—a blonde woman with a small boy clinging to her side, and a short, bespectacled man—then headed up the steps and to the front door of the hall. As he vanished inside, the woman shooed the little boy up the same path, and then she and the man started heading for the group.
"Oh yay, strip-search," Andrea muttered sarcastically.
"Hell, they let me at a working shower, they can do a full cavity search," T-Dog shot back.
And there was a mental image that Daryl could have happily lived the rest of his life without.
As it turned out, his instincts about the members of this camp were proven correct. The blonde woman—who had introduced herself as Jenny Casey—and the man with the glasses—who had just muttered that his name was Eric—had quickly and efficiently herded their entire group to the building with the showers. There, they had one group at a time (the women first with the Casey woman, and then the men with Eric) had to strip down to their skivvies to prove they weren't bitten anywhere. Apparently, that was all that was required for the other group to decide that it was all right to be friendly.
They'd been left alone to avail themselves of the showers—ice cold, with crap water pressure, but no one was complaining—and change into clean(er) clothes. As soon as they had gotten the vehicles situated, a small group of women led by Jenny Casey had descended on them, bundling the women and kids up to the meeting hall with promises of food. The men were left to follow in their wake, shaking their heads ruefully.
Grimes and Walsh stopped by the RV to pull out a few of their last cans of soup, evidently deciding they needed to make at least a token offering of something to 'earn their keep' with. Daryl drifted along behind them, listening with half an ear to their thousandth or so whispered argument over whether it was really a good idea to make for the CDC. To his surprise, Walsh, while still not in favor of the CDC, also didn't think it was a good idea to stay in the camp for more than a day or two.
Personally, he didn't think it was a good idea either, though probably for different reasons than Walsh. He'd been plotting their route in his head as they drove, a habit that had long ago been ingrained in him by numerous hunting trips. He always had at least a general idea of where he was in relation to certain landmarks. He couldn't be positive without looking at a map…but he was pretty sure this campground was about the same distance from the outskirts of Atlanta that the quarry had been. They were on different sides of the city. The KOA grounds were a great deal further East than the quarry—but unless he was missing his mark, there was about an equal distance from the actual center of the city.
And if the Walkers were starting to run out of food down in Atlanta and were leaving the city…it wasn't too far-fetched to think that this campground could be in danger of being overrun by a herd like the one that had swarmed the quarry.
It was just a theory on his part…but something about it felt right to his hunter's instincts. Right enough that he was considering mentioning it to Grimes at some point tonight. Even when he was deliberately antagonizing the man, Grimes had seemed to respect his skills.
His thoughts on the matter were interrupted as they entered the meeting hall. He cocked an eyebrow at the way the place had been cordoned off: clothesline strung through sections, from which blankets and sheets dangled as partitions. People obviously were living in the cordoned-off areas. He could see cots and personal belongings strews about through gaps in the sheets and blankets. The hall was full of people, though there was a surprising lack of noise. The entire atmosphere seemed rather somber, in fact. Most of them were congregating around a window in one wall that opened up onto a rudimentary kitchen area. There were a couple of big pots set up on the counter in the window, and people were making their way by them in an orderly line, bowls and mugs held in their hands. Evidently soup was being served for dinner that night.
Beside him, Grimes waved at his wife and son, standing in line with the Casey woman. Behind them was most of the rest of the group. He could see Dale talking with the old man in the Army coat, the one Andrew had called George. T-Dog and Jacqui were engaged in a quiet conversation with a couple of young women, and Amy was chatting with the little blonde girl and her mama. Carol and Sophia. He supposed there was no point now in pretending he hadn't heard everyone's names enough for them to stick.
"Hey," Andrea's voice sounded from their left, and she stepped out from behind one of the blanket partitions to come stand beside him. "We went ahead and got everyone's sleeping arrangements made. There's enough cots for everyone…unless any of you want to set up your tents or sleep in the RV."
Grimes and Walsh immediate shook their heads, and he shrugged. He'd probably end up setting his tent up—there were too many people in this building for him to feel comfortable. Andrea gnawed on her lip for a moment, before lowering her voice and ducking her head towards Grimes.
"I found out what's going on with the Royce's," she said softly, jerking her chin towards a corner of the hall opposite from the hustle of the 'living quarters' and the kitchen. The Royce family were clustered on a beat up couch that had been dragged against the wall. Danny was seated between his parents, looking grim and shell-shocked, and even from a distance, Daryl could see that his mother, Jill, was crying. Now that they had been brought to his attention, he could see the way the rest of their people were throwing worried, frightened glances at them every few moments.
"What happened?" Grimes asked, sounding concerned. Andrea shook her head sadly.
"Apparently Danny and his brother do supply runs for the camp. I was talking to Jenny; she said they've managed to find clear paths all the way down into the shopping district." A note of admiration entered her voice, and he couldn't help being impressed himself. The people at the quarry camp who had tried to do the same had never made it more than a mile or two inside the city limits before they were forced to turn back. "They made a major run yesterday, but they got caught by a group of Walkers. I guess the brother hurt his ankle getting away. Danny had to leave him behind."
"Guy left his own brother for Walker bait?" Walsh asked archly, something dark entering his voice. It sounded like disgust, but there was a thread of something beneath it that set Daryl's teeth on edge.
"No, that's the thing. He swears his brother's still alive. Apparently they have a bunch of bolt-holes plotted out whenever they go into the city. They got to one of them and his brother got up on the roof of one of the buildings."
Grimes whistled, half in admiration, half in surprise. Walsh just shook his head. "Even that only buys him a couple days in this heat."
"Damn it, I don't care!" The shout suddenly rang out through the meeting hall. As if they had rehearsed the move, everyone's head whipped towards the Royce family in time to see Danny shoot to his feet and start pacing agitatedly. "I have to go back for him!"
The kid whirled around to face the rest of the camp, two blotches of color standing out high on his cheeks. "I can't believe none of you will help us! G's risked his life for you! All of you!" he screamed. Behind him, his mother rose too and took a hesitant step forward, laying her hand on his back. Daryl glanced around the room, watching as eyes suddenly started dropping to the floor.
"What's goin' on?" he asked before he could think about it. Andrea shook her head again.
"They started talking about a rescue while we were getting the cots squared away. Danny and his dad want to go down into the city to go get the brother, but no one else is volunteering to help them."
"They're just gonna leave him?" Grimes asked. A new note had entered his voice, and Daryl shot the man a sidelong glance. Walsh apparently heard it, too.
"Aw, Rick, no man…this ain't our problem!" he hissed sharply.
"These people are sharing their food and shelter with us, without asking for anything in return," Grimes shot back.
"Man, you ain't serious!"
"A lot of the people here just wouldn't be any use on a run to the city…they're not fast enough, or good enough shots. The ones who could help…they've got families," Andrea interrupted evenly. "So far the only volunteer they can find is the old guy." She jerked a thumb at the man who had been talking to Dale. Daryl snorted derisively. Sure, he looked fit enough for an old man…but he was an old man.
"Fine! Screw it! I'll go back myself," Danny shouted again, shrugging off his mother's hands. Jill Royce seemed to crumple in on herself, reaching up to press her hands to her mouth as she visibly tried not to start crying again. Daryl glanced over at Grimes, and he already knew what the man was going to do even before he stepped forward.
"How many people do you need?" Grimes called out. Behind him, Walsh laced his fingers together at the back of his head and glared at the ceiling, sighing heavily.
The Royce's though, were staring at Grimes with something like hope blooming on their faces. Danny scrubbed the back of his hand over his mouth, closing his eyes briefly as he thought. Finally, he opened his eyes to look at Grimes again, brow furrowing. "Four of us could do it," he said decisively.
"All right," Grimes replied. "So we got you and me. Anyone else?" A low murmur started going through the crowd. Daryl shook his head slightly. Grimes the perpetual Boy Scout. He didn't even have to look to know the man's wife was glaring daggers at him, though she was enough of a Southern woman that she likely wouldn't go against her husband in public.
"I'll do it." Andrea's voice rang out just as clearly as Grimes' had, and she stepped forward to stand next to him. Despite himself, he felt his jaw drop a little. He'd known the woman had a backbone on her…but he wouldn't have figured her the type to risk her life for a perfect stranger.
Grimes was looking around the gathered people, one eyebrow raised in a slightly challenging manner. The Royce's, too, were looking at their group, the hope in their expressions nearly painful to look at.
"Please," Jill said suddenly, softly. "Please, Glenn's done so much for us. For all of us."
And Daryl felt as though the world had dropped right out from under him.
Glenn.
The kid's name was Glenn.
He sucked in a sharp breath, a strange, sick feeling suddenly churning in his stomach. He saw a sharp movement out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn't focus on it. All he could see was the family in front of him. The woman's eyes were glassy with tears that were threatening to fall at any moment, while her husband was searching the faces of the crowd desperately, pleadingly. They weren't his problem, they weren't any different from any of the other people who had lost someone in this world, they were nothing to him, and their son's name was Glenn.
His feet were carrying him forward before he was even aware of it. This was a fool's errand, and incredibly dangerous, and their grief shouldn't matter to him…but the kid's name was Glenn.
"I'll go," he said.
