Springtime was in full bloom in Northern Virginia as the extended cab pickup truck rolled along the countryside en route to the Kingdom. Vibrant wildflowers pushed through cracks in the asphalt. Slowly but surely, nature was reclaiming the land once spoiled by humans.
Daryl was behind the wheel of the truck, with Jesus in the passenger seat. The rear seat was occupied by Carol and Rick. Ostensibly, the trek's purpose was to begin a regular trade between the three communities. Rick wasn't really needed on this journey, but he came along to speak with Ezekiel. Carol took the opportunity to see her new friends again.
Jesus' suggestion of a game to pass the time was met with a chorus of groans. "Hey, hear me out. Okay, so we're all painfully aware of all the negative things the zombie apocalypse brought us, but let's turn the tables. Let's each name something positive that has come out of all this for us."
Daryl opted to keep it lighthearted. "All right, I'll start. I don't got to worry about gettin' pulled over and the cops findin' out my license is suspended. For the third time," he confessed. He looked in rear view mirror at smiling Rick. "Ah, dammit."
Jesus leaned in with a grin. "I don't have to pay my 12k in back taxes."
Daryl high fived him . "Sweet."
Carol joined, "I was supposed to report for jury duty."
"Pretty sure the case has been continued—indefinitely," Rick guessed.
"Maybe it was Daryl's case," Jesus joked.
"Guilty!" Carol proclaimed.
The archer argued back in mock protest. "Hey, they don't use juries in traffic court!"
"You'd know," Rick grinned.
By the time they got to the third round, everyone was laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes. After so much heartache and stress, it felt really good to be able to laugh again.
The drive was otherwise uneventful and they arrived at the Kingdom right on schedule. Carol and Rick went to visit the King while Daryl and Jesus headed straight to the warehouse.
The man outside the warehouse greeted them with a bow.
"Good day," Jesus began. "We are here for bartering. I am Jesus, representing the Hilltop. Representing Alexandria, Daryl."
"Representing the Kingdom," Dwight said as he stepped into view, "Dwight. But you can call me 'D' if you want."
"Son of a bitch, I just can't get rid of you," Daryl grumbled.
"Hilltop needs toothpaste," Jesus opened the negotiation. "I have watermelons and ten chickens to offer."
"And I got coffee to put up for flour," Daryl added.
"How much coffee?" Dwight asked. "We've got lots of flour." He studied his clipboard. "I can give you twenty pounds of flour."
"Ten pounds of coffee. Sound fair? And I'll give ten to Hilltop for six of them chickens. Ain't got no toothpaste, though. We're low on that ourselves."
"Deal," both men answered simultaneously.
"I got a case of toothpaste for the watermelons and the other four chickens," Dwight said.
The wheeling and dealing continued until everyone was satisfied with his acquisitions. Daryl gave up more of the coffee than he wanted, but he figured he'd find more on a run in a couple of days. It was worth it to have fresh poultry.
They agreed to meet at the same time the following week at the Hilltop for the next round of exchanges. Daryl and Paul were loading up the truck with their newly acquired groceries when Carol and Rick returned.
"How'd you do?" Carol asked.
"Got what we needed," Daryl replied.
"You're taking your chickens back?" Rick asked Jesus.
"Those are your chickens."
"You have no idea how much I was hoping you were gonna say that," Rick grinned.
"Gonna need flour to bread 'em," Carol said.
Daryl lifted the corner of the tarp. "Right here. We're eatin' good tonight. Even got us a watermelon for dessert."
( )
The following day found Daryl winding his way along the road to Alexandria. His run had taken him to a town a little farther out than his usual expeditions, but he found several needed items. An odd clunking sound from under the car caught his ear. Then the engine sputtered and quit.
"Dammit!" He muttered as he checked under the hood.
He wasn't able to pinpoint the exact problem with the car, so he knew he would have to the rest of the way home. He wasn't terribly familiar with this area, but by his estimation, he was due west of Alexandria. It would be shorter to pass through the woods than to stay on the main highway.
He hiked through the woods for two hours before he came upon a mobile home. Curious to see if it had been looted yet, he approached the door and put his ear to it. He knocked loudly. Almost immediately he heard the telltale sound of walkers. He went to the window and peeked. Two of them. Pretty fresh from the looks of them. No problem.
Carefully, he eased open the door. Killing the walkers was easily accomplished. He went to the kitchen and started opening cabinets. It appeared as though someone had been living there. His best guess was that the walkers, a male and a female, had been dead less than a day. The male had no bites and it was likely that he had died from illness of some kind and bitten the female.
He began scooping the cans of food into his backpack. It was then that he began to realize he could hear the faint cries of an infant. Oh shit…
Opening the first bedroom door he came to, he found an empty master suite. The next door was covered in scratches, as though the walkers had tried to gain entry. Behind the door he found a crib with a young baby, the pink outfit suggesting a girl. She was crying, rooting, sucking on her fist. Instinctively, he picked her up and cradled her in his arms. The smell of the ripe diaper assaulted him.
"What's the matter, Sweet Pea?" He cooed. "I know, you got some problems here. But we're gonna fix 'em…"
A sound from the corner of the room caused him to spin about to see the source.
"Come on out," he coaxed. "It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt ya."
A little boy of about two years old sat on a day bed.
"What's your name?" Daryl asked. "I'm Daryl."
The boy remained silent.
"Is this your baby sister?"
"I'm hungry," the boy said. "Want my mommy."
"Your mommy can't come right now. But I'm gonna take care of you, okay. I'll get you somethin' to eat."
He changed the baby's diaper.
"Stay here with your sister."
After dragging the bodies of the parents out of the home, he scavenged in the kitchen until he found something the boy would eat.
"Where does your mommy keep the milk for the baby?" He asked the child.
"She drinks from mommy's booby," he said.
Daryl winced. Judith didn't use formula anymore and he couldn't remember if there was any left over. He would just have to see when he got there. The priority was getting the children to safety. He couldn't imagine what they were going to do with the children, but certainly just leaving them was out of the question.
"How 'bout your shoes? You know where they are?"
The boy pointed to a shelf.
He wanted to scoop up the children's clothing, but he was already going to be struggling with carrying an infant and, he figured, a toddler. He would have to come back another time and get the clothes.
Once the boy's shoes were on, Daryl took him by the hand and headed through the woods for Alexandria. The baby's crying was loud and insistent. Silently praying to himself that they didn't encounter any walkers, he finally understood what Tyreese had experienced.
Amazingly, Daryl's luck held out and he made it home without any undead interference. He arrived at the gates of Alexandria just after dark, with a crying infant on one shoulder, a sleeping toddler on the other and a backpack and crossbow on his back.
"What the hell is this?" Rosita queried as she opened the gate. "These aren't what you were supposed to be getting on your run."
"You want 'em?" Daryl quipped. "They're yours."
"The quiet one is adorable," she laughed.
Daryl knocked at Rick's door. The look of surprise on Michonne's face as she opens the door was priceless.
"Tell me you got some baby formula left," he implored.
"Uh, let me go look…" she motioned for him to enter. "Rick, you gotta see this."
Rick came down the stairs.
"I heard the crying all the way upstairs. Where did you find these little ones?"
The cop gently took the infant from Daryl's arms and tried to soothe her, "Come here, honey, come to Uncle Rick." She just kept crying.
"Without milk she don't like you any more than she likes me," the archer said as he laid the little boy on the sofa.
Carl's approach had been masked by all of the noise. He looked befuddled as he surveyed the scene before him.
"I'm gonna go let Carol know you're here. I kinda got the impression you were due back hours ago."
"Shit happened."
"I can see that."
"Seriously, where did you get the kids?" Rick asked.
"Found 'em in a house in the woods. Parents were dead. Looked like the dad died first, turned, killed the mother."
( )
Carol paced nervously from room to room, checking frequently out the windows for any signs of Daryl. He should have been back by now. The Saviors were defeated, but there were always going to be other threats. She tried to read but found she couldn't concentrate. When she realized she'd read the same paragraph four times and still didn't know what it said, it was time to give up on that endeavor. So, back to pacing it was.
The past couple of weeks had gone wonderfully. It felt as though they'd been a couple for years. With each passing day, she felt more and more like the Carol from the prison. Her need to escape into another persona had all but faded away. But now the negativity crept in; now was the time for the other shoe to drop. She was too happy and she knew that fate just couldn't let that be.
Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours. Still no Daryl. What would she do if she lost him now?
"Carol?" The voice accompanied the knock at the door.
She opened it. "Yes, Carl?"
"Just wanted to let you know Daryl's back. He's at our house."
The tension left her body so quickly she thought she might collapse. But wait, why hadn't he come home? Why was he at Rick's?
"He's okay?"
"Yeah, he's fine. It's just…well, you gotta see for yourself."
Carol was totally unprepared for the scene in Rick's living room. Daryl sat on the sofa, his head resting on his palms and his elbows on his knees. Next to him lay a very young child. In the recliner was Rick who was cradling an infant and feeding it a bottle.
"Should I ask?" She questioned.
Daryl jumped up and gave her a quick hug.
"Probably not."
"Whose are they?" She wondered.
"Yours," Rick answered.
"When did I say that?" Daryl protested.
"What else are we gonna do with them?"
Carol took a closer look at the baby. "She can't be more than a month old. Where's her mother?"
"Dead." Daryl sighed.
"There are people in the Kingdom who would take them," she said. "Maybe we should take them there."
"Well we need to know what we're doing tonight," Rick said. "Michonne has watch and I was up all last night with Judith and her new molar."
"We can take them tonight," Carol volunteered. She picked up the can of powdered formula. "This isn't gonna last long, though. Maybe a couple more bottles."
"Ima go lookin' in the mornin'," Daryl agreed. "But it's slim pickins out there."
Handing the baby to Carol, Rick went and folded up the playpen in the corner of the living room. He passed it to Daryl.
As they headed home with the children, Carol began to question the wisdom of her decision to take them home for the night. She loved being a mother, but after three horrific losses, she was absolutely terrified to let any more children into her heart.