"This one, boys," Darlene said. "It's one of them old ones. It'll be as easy pecan pie down a hungry man's throat."

Rick jerked open the door of the rusty, brownish-red sedan, and Daryl stabbed the geek inside before dragging it out onto the street. Darlene crawled in the front seat and ripped the wires out from beneath the steering wheel.

"Give away half our guns," Daryl grumbled to Rick. Rick had left three rifles, two handguns, and six boxes of ammo at the nursing home.

"Far less than half."

"Don't mind ya givin' one to Darlene, but them old folk is half dead already, and they ain't our responsibility." They had more of a responsibility to defend the women and children back at their own camp.

It was strange that he was beginning to think of it that way, as their camp.

"We still have plenty of guns," Rick insisted.

"Ain't no such thing as plenty of guns in this world," Daryl told him.

"Quit yer bitchin', Daryl," Darlene called from where she worked. "Rick's a generous man. Just be glad you fell in with decent people 'stead of the assholes you usually hang with."

"Ya mean you?" Daryl asked.

"Touché." The engine of the sedan clicked, sputtered, and then roared to life. Darlene crawled out. "Tank's half full, too."

Rick handed Darlene a map he'd drawn this morning. "This is the way to our camp, if you decide to join us when your fiance's better."

She folded it up and slid it in the back pocket of her cut-off shorts. "I'm not goin' to Chicago, but I'm not goin' to y'all's camp neither. Decided I'm gonna stay here. These old people could use another nurse. I have the skill. At least I'd be doing somethin' meaningful here."

Rick nodded. "Well, if you change your mind, you're welcome there. We could use a nurse. And a good shot."

Rick took the steering wheel, and T-Dog called shotgun, so Daryl crawled in the back with Glenn. He left his door open so he could tell Darlene, "Good luck. Stay alive."

"You too, Dixon."

Before Daryl could shut the door, Glenn leaned over him and asked Darlene, "Want a ride home?"

"Ain't no room for me in there."

"You could squeeze in," Glenn suggested. "Or sit on my lap." There was nothing lecherous in the way Glenn made the offer. He said it like an innocent but hopeful teenage boy.

"Well that's sweet of you, honey," Darlene said with an indulgent smile. "But it's only a block, and I got some scavengin' to do on my way back."

"Be careful," Glenn warned her.

"Always am."

Daryl shut his door and Darlene, rifle in hand, strutted off.

As Rick pulled out and began driving down the street, Glenn asked, "How does she know how to wire cars?"

"How do you think she knows?" T-Dog replied as he adjusted the air conditioning vent, which was blowing only hot air at the moment. Daryl cranked down his window. This car was old enough it still had hand-cranks.

Glenn turned his head slowly to Daryl. "Darlene was a car thief?"

"No, but her daddy was. My cousin worked in his chop shop. One of my uncles sold the parts."

"So you come from a family of criminals?" Glenn asked.

"No! My daddy didn't do shit but make moonshine. My aunt might of cashed her dead mama's social security checks. Merle might of stole a few things, assaulted a few assholes. but that's the worst of it."

Glenn mouthed wow and T-Dog raised an eyebrow. Rick alone seemed to find the litany of minor crimes unremarkable. As a cop, he was likely used to dealing with far worse, and he'd probably had to meet up with informants not unlike Daryl. In a weird way, Rick probably understood him better than anyone else in the camp.

"People got to survive," Daryl said. "We ain't all born with a silver spoon."

"I uh…" Glenn's mouth hung open for a moment. "I'm totally middle-class. I wasn't born with a silver spoon."

"Nah? Really? Bet yer folks had a little silver spoon with yer birth date printed on it, sittin' on the hutch in the dinnin' room."

"Ummm….yeah. Actually, they did. Didn't think you meant that kind of silver spoon."

"Probably right next to yer little bronze-dipped bootie."

"Um…okay," Glenn admitted. "Yeah, they did have one of those."

"Next to the baby photo album."

"Well of course they had that!" Glenn exclaimed.

"Yeah, well I didn't have shit except my birth certificate, and all that said was Baby Boy Dixon, and it disappeared when the cabin burned down."

"Okay," Glenn said, "fine. I'm not going to win the who had the worst childhood game. But we're all in the same boat now."

Daryl looked forward, between the front car seats, and out the window, where he saw the herd of geeks rounding a corner and lurching in their direction. "Hey!" he called to Rick. "Circle back. Pick up the highway somewhere's else. Got to avoid them walkers."

Walkers.

He'd said walkers, not geeks.

He was starting to speak their language.

[*]

The car wasn't the only thing that was old. The tires were threadbare. They got a flat on the way back. Rick left the car running while Daryl ran around to the trunk, only to discover there was no spare. T-Dog and Glenn hiked along the highway to find another car with either a matching spare or keys in the ignition, while Rick and Daryl remained by the running car and kept an eye on the bag of guns. They were afraid if they turned the car off, they wouldn't be able to get it started again.

Daryl lit up a cigarette while they waited. There was an awkward silence - awkward for Rick, anyway, apparently, because he started talking. "You have interesting friends."

Maybe he shouldn't have, but Daryl took those words as an insult. "Yeah? Well so do you."

"What? Shane? What's interesting about him?"

"Nothin'," Daryl muttered. Unless you count the fact that he's fuckin' yer wife, Daryl thought. That's interestin'.

"Shane's predictable." Rick said. "You always know what you're getting with Shane."

"Do ya?"

Rick nodded. "It's not a bad thing. He was my partner for ten years. I could always rely on him. And he saved my family. Kept them safe."

"Mhmhm." Daryl hoped Lori hadn't been screwing Shane in the woods while they were gone. He'd always felt bad for cuckolds, especially the devoted ones. Maybe now that Lori knew Rick was alive, she was being faithful to him. Daryl didn't know. It wasn't his business.

"Now that we've got all these guns," Rick said, "we should set up a more thorough watch. Sooner or later, the walkers are going to find their way up that mountain in search of food."

"That's what I've been sayin' since the day I got there. Y'all got shit security."

"Y'all?" Rick asked. "You were a part of the camp before I was."

Is that how Rick thought of him? As a fixed part of the camp? The truth was, Daryl was beginning to feel like one. He hadn't even considered staying at that nursing home with Darlene, even though he'd known her most of his life and he'd only known these people about a week. And Darlene hadn't expected him to stay either. It was as if she knew he was ingrained in this group.

For the last hour of the drive, Daryl had been thinking about what he was going to hunt for when they got back, if there'd be time to catch anything before dinner, if Sophia would be upset if he just gathered up some toads in a pinch. He'd been thinking about whether Carol had taken that tent, and, if so, how Ed had reacted, and what he was going to do to keep that asshole away from the woman and the girl. He'd been thinking about Dale on top of that RV, and how maybe to talk to the old man about establishing a 360-degree watch. He'd been thinking about Andrea and those fishing lines, and considering that maybe he'd like to take that canoe out and go fishing with her, if she'd just agree to shut up the entire time. He was thinking about that boy Carl, and devising a plan to educate him in the use of knives and guns when Lori wasn't looking, even if the education was just verbal at first.

It was strange that his thoughts were preoccupied that way, considering that, just a few days ago, he'd been ready to rob the camp.

Daryl tossed his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out. He went to take a piss at the side of the road, and when he returned, Rick left to do the same. The minutes ticked by. Eventually, they saw T-Dog and Glenn rolling a tire down the road.

Daryl pulled the jack out of the trunk. "Let's get this thing changed. Need to get home before sunset."

Home.

Had he really just said that?

[*]

It was late afternoon when they parked the car at the edge of the camp next to Shane's pick-up. Rick hopped out, calling, "Lori, Carl! We're back!" Daryl and Glenn followed behind him, while T-Dog got the bag of guns out of the trunk of the car.

Rick's footsteps slowed as he neared the open expanse of the camp. Daryl nearly ran into his back. He stepped aside so he could see around Rick. The glare of the sunlight bouncing off a mermaid pendant necklace blinded him for a moment, and then the scene came into focus: a walker on all fours feasting off the mangled remains of Amy. On the earth that stretched beyond her half-consumed figure lay body after body after body.

"No!" Rick cried.

Daryl quickly unshouldered his crossbow. The walker turned and hissed, just before the arrow pierced its brain.

Rick took off running through the camp, calling, "Lori! Carl! Lori!" and looking at every dead body that lay on the ground as he tore toward his family's tent. He paused only long enough to shoot one other feasting walker.

Daryl recovered his arrow and reloaded the bow.

"Oh my God." Glenn's voice quivered behind Daryl.

T-Dog, who had just drawn up next to them, dropped the gun bag with a dull thud to the earth. He readied his rifle and took off jogging toward the tents.

Daryl grimaced as he gazed out at the bodies strewn across the dusty camp. They were bitten, mauled, or half-eaten by walkers. Some were walkers. Dead ones, with their heads bashed in, shot in, or cut off. It looked liked the camp had fought back.

Glenn looked down at the body the walker had just been feasting upon. "Oh Jesus. Amy."

Whuuunk! The arrow landed straight between her glassy blue eyes.

"What the hell!" Glenn shouted.

Daryl put a toe on Amy's chin and slid the arrow out before wiping off the bloody residue on the sole of his boot and reloading his bow. "She's dead," he said. "Been bit. She'll get it. She'll turn. They'll all turn if we don't get the brain."

Glenn, with an expression of horror and a slightly open mouth, followed Daryl as he made his way through the fallen bodies.

Whuunk!

Slooosh…

Daryl slid his arrow out of Jim's head, stepped over the pitchfork that lay beside his chewed-upon body, circled around a fallen walker, and moved on.

Morlaes was next, the baseball bat still in one of his hands.

Whuunk!

Slooosh…

Four dead walkers surrounded Morales, but so did his mangled wife and children.

Whuunk! Slooosh. Whunnk! Slooosh. Whuunk! Sloosh.

Glenn breathed out a shuddering sigh. "Oh God. What happened?"

"What the hell ya think happened, Einstein?" Despite Daryl's tone, his stomach was a tangled knot.

"How did they get past the security?"

"What security?" Daryl muttered. "This old man?"

Whuuunk! Slooosh….Daryl wiped Dale's brains off the arrow onto the ground before reloading. "Pick up his rifle." The old man was apparently in the process of reloading when he was set upon. He'd gotten a few walkers, but the last one had gotten him.

Glen grabbed the rifle, winced when his hand touched blood, and moved it down on the stock.

Daryl reloaded and carried on.

"Oh God." Glenn turned away from the half-devoured body of Jacqui.

Whuuunk! Slooosh…

As they passed Lori's tent, the flap flew open abruptly. Rick emerged and looked around. "They're not inside." He breathed in and out, like a man in the midst of an asthma attack.

Daryl walked on. He found Ed's body next. "Got what he deserved," he muttered as the arrow penetrated the man's flesh with a Whuuunk! "Abusive fucker." Sloosh…. "Get his handgun."

Glenn held Dale's rifle in one hand and squatted down to pick up Ed's handgun with the other.

Daryl's boots squished through blood as he paced on. He refused to think about it. There was work to be done. He didn't know the names of all the men and women he shot next. The gritty effort began to sound like the churning wheels of a train on the tracks: Whuunk-Sloosh-Whuunk-Sloosh-Whuunk-Sloosh!

Rick was running around like a chicken with his head cut off, flying between the tents and cars, revolver held downward in his right hand, not even readied in a shooting position, desperately crying, Lori! Carl! Lori! Carl! Shane!

In the distance, Daryl spied a new tent set up: the tent he and Merle had been given but had never used. Carol had taken his advice and moved out while he was gone. She'd moved out, and maybe she and Sophia had been alone and defenseless because of it. Maybe they'd been by themselves in that tent, without a gun or even a knife, instead of with her armed husband.

He blinked hard, twice, bit down on his back teeth, and steadied his nerves. And then he began his slow prowl toward the tent.