I own nothing but my OCs.

Chapter 26: Better Angels

They held Dale's funeral the following morning just after sunrise.

"Dale could—could get under your skin. He sure got under mine," Rick spoke as they all stood around the new grave to honor the man buried within, "because he wasn't afraid to say exactly what he thought, how he felt. That kind of honesty is rare… and brave. Whenever I'd make a decision, I'd look at Dale." A tear streamed down Carl's face. "He'd be looking back at me with that look he had. We've all seen it one time or another. I couldn't always read him, but he could read us. He saw people for who they were. He knew things about us—the truth, who we really are. In the end, he was talking about losing our humanity." Sam blinked and bowed her head. "He said this group was broken. The best way to honor him is to unbreak it. Set aside our differences and pull together, stop feeling sorry for ourselves and take control of our lives, our safety… our future. We're not broken. We're gonna prove him wrong. From now on, we're gonna do it his way. That is how we honor Dale."

After the funeral, Hershel wanted to talk to Rick about something, so Daryl, Sam, T-Dog, Andrea, and Shane went ahead and got started on patrolling the grounds to make sure there were no more walkers like the one that got Dale hanging around. Andrea rode in the front of the blue truck with Shane while Sam sat in the back with Daryl and T-Dog. They decided to drive out and check the outermost fence first, figuring there must still be a hole somewhere from when the cattle busted loose the previous morning. Shane took the lead, testing different areas of the fence for weakness, while Andrea and T-Dog carried the replacement wire and tools. Daryl and Sam were on protection duty, keeping guard while they went about their business. Once that was finished, the five of them went on a patrol through the woods around the perimeter, armed with different melee weapons.

Daryl whistled softly to get the others' attention when he and Sam found a fresh trail, pointing the way to them. The trail led back towards the farm, so they got back in the truck and drove in that general direction until they came upon a small group of walkers that were stumbling around the outskirts of Hershel's property towards another small group who were feeding on what was left of one of the cows that had still been MIA. Shane pulled to a stop several about a yard away, and Daryl, Sam, and T-Dog hopped out the back while Shane and Andrea climbed out of the cab. Daryl took out the first one with his crossbow. T-Dog stepped forward and started beating another's head in with a lead pipe while Sam whacked one in the head with her crovel, knocking it off his feet, so she could deliver a fatal blow to the head. Andrea got the next one, stabbing it through under the chin with a pitchfork. Shane took another out with the same shovel they had used to dig Dale's grave earlier. The walkers eating the cow finally started to look up and realize they weren't alone anymore, but it was too late. Daryl put an arrow right between the eyes of one as Andrea ran forward and slammed the handle of her weapon against another's head. Sam scalped another with her crovel while Shane whacked one in the head with his shovel and began kicking it violently when he realized it wasn't completely dead yet. The others joined in, venting their frustrations on the mindless and grotesque walker, before finally stepping back and giving Shane room to deliver the finishing blow. Shane let out a cry of exertion as he brought the blade of the shovel down, bashing its brains out. The walker groaned one last time before finally stilling completely.

…

"Gonna be tight, fourteen people in one house." Rick said. They had returned from patrol to learn that Hershel had decided to extend the invitation to share his home with all of them in view of the fast approaching winter.

"Don't worry about that." Hershel told him. "With the swamp hardening, the creek drying up…"

"With fifty head of cattle on the property, we might as well be ringing a damn dinner bell." Maggie finished.

"She's right. We should've moved you in a while ago." Hershel said.

Daryl and Sam exchanged a glance. They wouldn't mind being in a real house for those cold winter nights, and even if it got cramped, the collective body heat should help keep everyone warm. The house could offer them a hell of a lot more protection against walkers than a flimsy tent, too. The rest of their group had already started packing up the main camp, but they decided to wait and see what Rick had to say before going off to grab their stuff.

"All right," Rick said, "let's move the vehicles near each of the doors, facing out toward the road." Sam nodded. Sounded like a good plan. If the worst came, they could easily abandon ship that way. "We'll build a lookout in the windmill, another in the barn loft. That should give us sidelines both sides of the property." Sam and Daryl started walking away to break their own camp. "T-Dog, you take the perimeter around the house. Keep track of everyone coming and going."

"What about standing guard?" T-Dog asked.

"I need you and Daryl on double duty." Rick replied, causing him and Sam to pause and glance back at them. They exchanged a glance, shrugged, and continued on their way. Guess they'd better hurry, then.

"Gotcha." T-Dog said.

"I'll stock the basement with food and water, enough that we can all survive there a few days if need be." Hershel said as Brandon walked by carrying a crate of supplies.

"What about patrols?" Andrea asked.

"Let's get this area locked down first." Rick told her. "After that, Shane will assign shifts while me and Daryl take Randall offsite and cut him loose." He added, pointing to the man who had been quietly listening to him talk the whole time while leaning against the truck.

"We're back to that now?" Shane asked as he turned to walk away and Lori and the others began loading some of the heavier items in camp into the back of the truck for transportation to the house.

"It was the right plan first time around." Rick said, stopping. "Poor execution."

"That's a slight understatement." Shane remarked with a flat laugh.

"You don't agree, but this is what's happening." Rick told him. "Swallow it, move on."

"You know that Dale's death and the prisoner—that's two separate things, right?" Shane asked. "You wanna take Daryl as your wingman, be my guest."

"Thank you." Rick said, walking away.

"You got it." Shane replied humorlessly.

…

Once they were all packed up, and their few worldly possessions were loaded onto his motorcycle, Sam climbed on the back and held onto to Daryl while he revved the engine and drove them over to the farmhouse to rejoin the others. Rose barked and wagged her tail as she ran after them.

They didn't have much to unpack, so after dropping their bags off in the designated 'men' and 'women' rooms in the house, the two of them got to work helping Jimmy and Brandon board up all the windows. Sam stayed to help with the house, while Daryl left to board up the ones on the shed.

"You're not gonna move your motorcycle?" She asked Brandon when she noticed it was still parked by the old campsite. He glanced back at it and shook his head.

"Nah. It's practically running on fumes now." He said. "I meant to refuel before we left the highway, but with all the excitement going on at the time, I guess I kinda forgot. If something happens, I'll just get in the RV with Glenn or something. I've grown attached to that old dinosaur."

"Okay." Sam said, smiling wryly. She imagined Dale would be kind of proud to hear that. "As long as you've thought it through." She grabbed another board and couple of nails, getting ready to start on the next window. She raised the hammer.

"Sam." Hershel called out, getting her attention. Sam stopped and lowered the hammer.

"Yeah?" She called back, still holding the board in place. She hoped whatever he had to say wouldn't take to long. It was heavier than it looked.

"I'd like to have a word with you about that food you brought in." Hershel said, moving closer.

"Something wrong with it?" She asked, furrowing her brow slightly in confusion as she set the board down. " 'Cause I can vouch for all of it. I dried it myself."

"No, you did a fine job." He reassured her. "It's just that I was thinking of stocking the basement with food and water, and since those dried goods of yours will keep better without refrigeration than most of what we've got left…"

"You were wondering if you could add them to the store." Sam finished for him, nodding in understanding. "Yeah, sure. Help yourself." She told him before turning back to work on the windows again. They were going to have to pool all their resources together just to get through the winter sooner or later anyway. Might as well start doing it now.

"Much obliged." Hershel thanked her as he headed back into the house.

…

"Take him out to Senoia—hour there, hour back, give or take." Rick said, glancing up from the map he was going over with Daryl on the front porch. "We may loose the light, but we'll be halfway home by then." Daryl sighed as he straightened up and leaned back against the railing.

"And this little pain in the ass will be a distant memory." He said. "Good riddance."

"Carol's putting together some provisions for him, enough to last a few days." Rick said. They both glanced up at the sound of an approaching vehicle. Shane was driving his Hyundai back after installing a platform for a look out on the windmill. "That thing you did last night…" Rick said, glancing at Daryl.

"Ain't no reason you should do all the heavy liftin'." Daryl said calmly, looking up at him. Rick nodded, giving him a silent thanks.

"So are you good with all this?" He asked, referring to the plan to set Randall loose as Shane pulled to a stop in front of the house and killed the engine. He knew Daryl wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea.

"I don't see you and I trading haymakers on the side of the road." Daryl replied. Rick glanced at him. Yeah, Daryl hadn't missed those nasty bruises that were forming on the side of Shane's face. They were certain Rick had some less noticeable bruises too. Those weren't the kind of wounds you'd expect to get from a walker. "Nobody'd win that fight." He may not exactly agree with the plan, but Sam had decided to put her fears aside and go along with it, and she had a hell of a lot more to lose than he did if something went wrong. He would just have to be there to make sure nothing happened to her if or when the shit really did hit the fan. Daryl glanced back at Shane as he slammed the car door shut and started making his way toward the house. It looked like the two ex-best friends could use some time to talk, and it was gonna be a long ride. "I'm gonna take a piss." He said, excusing himself, as he headed inside.

When Daryl came back out the house, he saw that both Shane and his car were gone, and so was Rick. Sam was loading the supplies Carol had pooled together for Randall into the back of the blue truck.

"Hey." He said as he walked over to her. "You seen Rick?"

"Yeah, he was headed over to the barn with Carl. Needed to have a father-son talk with him about something." She replied, glancing up at him.

"When doesn't that boy need talkin' to?" Daryl asked, shaking his head. It seemed like Carl was constantly getting himself into trouble these days. He glanced at her and they smiled wryly at each other before shaking their heads.

"The problem is Lori treats him like a kid then expects him to behave like an adult. I wish she'd keep a better eye on him instead of letting him wander around on his own so much." Sam said, frowning slightly in disapproval. "Did you notice how he had mud from the creek all over him yesterday? He doesn't have a gun, what if he had run into a walker or something?" It was hard enough taking walkers down without one when you were an adult.

"Maybe you should start keeping an eye on him, then." He suggested. There was little point in telling Lori any of this unless Sam wanted to get her ear chewed off. "Give him a little tough love, straighten him out."

"Nah. That's what Rick's for." Sam said. "He just needs more time with his dad. And there'll be plenty of time for them to bond while we're all cooped up inside that farmhouse for the winter with nowhere better to go."

"True." Daryl agreed, hoping no one would get a case of cabin fever over the next few months, while he examined the supplies in the back of the truck. Randall could probably get by for three days on these provisions.

"Only got so many arrows." T-Dog said, getting their attention as he walked up to Daryl, holding out a pistol. He winked at Sam, who smiled gratefully at him. She had wanted Daryl to take her handgun with him after discovering his was missing, but he had insisted she should keep it in case she needed it, and he didn't do pink.

"Is that Dale's gun?" Daryl asked as he accepted it and checked it over.

"Yeah." T-Dog said a little more solemnly, bowing his head, as he stepped over to help Sam close up the back of the truck, even though she didn't really need it.

"Wish I knew where the hell mine is." Daryl remarked, tucking the pistol into the back of his pants as Rick walked up to join them. Carl wasn't with him. Rick must've already dropped him off by the house's back door.

"Ready?" Rick asked.

"Yeah." Daryl said, grabbing his crossbow.

"I'll get the package." T-Dog volunteered.

"I'll help." Sam offered, following him. They were both carrying since they had been expecting to take on guard and watch duty while Rick and Daryl were gone.

"Yo, Randy." T-Dog called out as they came upon the shed. He banged on the door to make sure their prisoner was awake inside. "Governor called. You're off the hook." Sam smiled wryly at his little joke while she slid the dials on the padlock into the right combination to unlock it and pulled the lock from the door. T-Dog pulled open the door, about to enter first, but he froze in the doorway when he saw that the shed was empty.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, concerned. She placed her hand on her holstered gun, ready to draw at the first sign of trouble. T-Dog didn't answer right away. He took another step forward to peer further inside and make sure Randall wasn't just hiding somewhere in the shadows. But he wasn't there.

"Oh hell no." T-Dog exclaimed as he backed out of the shed. "He's gone!" He shouted as he turned and ran to get Rick and Daryl.

"Gone!?" Sam asked, staring at him in disbelief. "Shit." She drew her gun and cautiously entered the shed, double checking to make sure Randall wasn't hiding. She looked everywhere—up, down, left, right, all around—T-Dog was right. Randall was just gone. She knelt down to examine the hand cuffs. Her eyes widened. They were still closed. There were traces of blood and skin crusted onto them. Randall must have rubbed his wrists raw trying to get out of them… but that still didn't explain how he got out of them. Sam held the cuff up next to her hand to see if she could slip hers through. Her hands were smaller than Randall's, but she couldn't see anyway of getting her own hands through the closed cuffs short of breaking them. But the door was locked from the outside, and he would need his hands to climb if he had somehow managed to slip out through the rafters... So how the hell did he get out?

"Sam?" Daryl called out as he entered the shed, followed by Rick. She noticed Andrea had come too when she glanced up at him and through the open door.

"The cuffs were closed when we found them." Sam said, to where they were still hooked to the chain against the wall. "Do they look like they were tampered with to you?" She asked.

"No." Rick said after taking a moment to examine them. "No, these weren't picked." He glanced back at her and saw the look on her face. Daryl noticed it too. She knew better than to say it out loud without any proof, but it was obvious she suspected that someone had helped Randall with his escape. Daryl walked back over to the door, opening and closing it, examining it for any clues that might indicate whether or not it had been tampered with, while Rick continued to examine the inside for any clues Sam and T-Dog might've missed. Looking for clues inside a shed fit more in his line of work as a cop than tracking an animal through the woods. There were no signs of struggle, no new ones, anyway. He glanced up at the rafters as Andrea walked in, wondering if Randall could've gotten out that way somehow. Andrea followed his gaze, remembering how Carl had gotten in through that way somehow. But it looked like Daryl had fixed that problem area while he was taking care of the windows…

Daryl slammed the door open one last time before he began circling the outside of the shed in hopes of finding a trail to follow. As far as he could tell, there was nothing wrong with the damn thing. There was no way Randall could've gotten out that way, not unless the kid was some kind of magician. T-Dog and Sam started following after him, when the others suddenly came swarming out of the house, wanting to know what was going on. T-Dog and Sam stopped to intercept them before they accidentally trampled over any clues that might help Daryl figure out which direction Randall had run off in.

"What's wrong?" Lori asked.

"Randall's missing." Sam replied.

"Missing? How?" Lori asked, staring at them in disbelief, like it was their fault somehow.

"How long's he been gone?" Hershel asked Rick as T-Dog let him through. It was his shed, after all.

"What's goin' on?" Patricia asked.

"Something wrong, Sam?" Brandon asked.

"Look, it's not safe out here. Y'all should head back inside until we find him." Sam said, trying to help T-Dog keep them back without using force.

"It's hard to say." Rick told Hershel as he stepped out of the shed. "The cuff are still hooked. He must've slipped 'em." He didn't want to alarm anyone with Sam's conspiracy theory until they knew more.

"Is that possible?" Carol asked.

"It is if you've got nothing to lose." Andrea stated as she too stepped out of the shed.

"The door was secured from the outside." Hershel said, closing it.

"Rick!" They all turned when they heard Shane shouting. "Rick!" He was coming from the woods. He had a nasty cut across the bridge of his nose, and it was bleeding pretty badly. He looked like someone had slammed his head into something.

"What happened?" Lori called out worriedly.

"He's armed!" Shane shouted as he continued marching towards them. "He's got my gun!"

"Who? Randall?" Brandon asked, furrowing his brow slightly in confusion. How did that happen? "What happened to your face, man?"

"Are you okay?" Carl asked, concerned by all the blood.

"I'm fine." Shane told him. "Little bastard just snuck up on me. Clocked me in the face." Daryl and Sam exchanged a glance. That wound looked pretty convincing, but they found it hard to believe that Randall was smart enough or strong enough to pull something like this off. The kid wasn't the Hulk or Houdini, and if anyone had something to gain from seeing Rick's plan fail and making him look bad…

"All right," Rick said, turning back to address the rest of them, "Hershel, T-Dog, Sam, get everybody back in the house. Glenn, Daryl, come with us."

"Be safe out there." Sam whispered to Daryl while he loaded his crossbow before stepping aside and turning back to face the others and help Hershel and T-Dog usher them back inside. "Okay, everyone, let's go. Back inside."

"T, I'm gonna need that gun." Shane said, stopping the other man.

"Just let him go." Brandon said. "That was the plan, wasn't it, to just let him go?"

"The plan was to cut him loose far away from here, not on our front step with a gun." Rick corrected him as Shane took T-Dog's handgun.

"Don't go out there." Carol called after them nervously as the four men started to walk away. "Y'all know what can happen."

"Get everybody back in the house." Rick ordered again. "Lock all the doors and stay put!"

"Let's go, back in the house." Andrea said as she and T-Dog turned and started ushering Carol and Maggie back to the house, catching up with Sam and Hershel, who were already in the process of seeing everyone else inside.

"I saw him head up through the trees that way before I blacked out." Shane told Rick, Daryl, and Glenn as the four of them headed into the woods together. "I'm not sure how long."

"He couldn't have gotten far." Rick said. "He's hobbled, exhausted."

"And armed." Glenn said.

"So are we." Rick reminded him. "Can you track him?" He asked Daryl.

"No, I don't see nothin'." Daryl said, scanning the ground in the fading light with sharp eyes. The whole thing felt wrong.

"Hey, look, there ain't no use tracking him, okay? He went that way." Shane insisted. "We need to pair up. We spread out, we just chase him down. That's it."

"Kid weighs a buck-25 soakin' wet." Daryl said, glancing back at him. "You tryin' to tell us he go the jump on you?" Sam was shorter than Randall, and she could take him.

"I say a rock pretty much evens those odds, wouldn't you?" Shane retorted.

"All right, all right. Knock it off." Rick said before a fight started. "You and Glenn start heading up the right flank." He told Daryl. "Me and Shane will take the left. Remember, Randall's not the only threat out there. Keep an eye out for each other."

…

"Hey, Carl." Sam said, getting the attention of the young boy who had just been staring off into space for the past several minutes while trying to keep out of the way of the other adults, who were occupying their time by finishing the preparations to get the rooms everyone was sharing ready. Carol and Brandon were cooking supper in the kitchen. "I know you're worried about your dad, but do you think you could do me a favor? You see, T-Dog and I are going to be keeping guard around the lower levels of the house, but we need someone to help us keep watch from the windows upstairs. You'd have a bird's eye view of most of the farm from up there. Think you can do it?" She asked, handing him Dale's binoculars. Carl nodded and took the binoculars, hanging them around his neck.

"Yeah, I can do that." He said, smiling slightly. It was like his dad had said earlier, no more kid stuff. He had to start pulling his weight around here. Sam smiled and nodded in approval.

"All right." She said, patting him on the back. "I'll let your mom know you're on the job. Just holler or come get us if you see anything."

…

It was completely dark now as Glenn followed Daryl through the woods, keeping a tight grip on his Gator Pro blade while the older man led the way with his crossbow, trying to pick up some hint of a trail. Glenn sighed. And Daryl seconded that emotion.

"This is pointless. You got a light?" He asked Glenn. He had been using the dim light of the moon that was filtering down through the tree tops in order to avoid attracting any walkers that might be out there, but this was just getting ridiculous. Glenn handed over the flashlight that he had enough foresight to grab before leaving the house. Daryl clicked it on and shined it on the ground, scanning it for signs that something or someone may have passed through recently. Nothing. Daryl let out an irritated sigh and started walking back in the direction they had just come from. Glenn furrowed his brow slightly in confusion, but he knew enough to follow without needing to ask any stupid questions. Until he saw where they were headed. Daryl had purposefully led him straight back to where they had started from.

"We're just back to square one." Glenn said.

"If you're gonna do a thing, you might as well do it right." Daryl replied, shining the flashlight around until he found traces of a trail. It seemed to be leading in the complete opposite direction Shane had insisted on sending them to look in. Coincidence? Probably not. "There's two sets of tracks right here." He informed Glenn as they continued on. "Shane must've followed him a lot longer than he said." He caught something wet and shiny on a tree trunk out the corner of his eye and shined the light on it. "There's fresh blood on this tree." He'd bet anything it was Shane's. "There's more tracks. Looks like they're walkin' in tandem." He paused when Glenn bumped into him, and glanced back at the Asian boy, wondering if something was wrong.

"Sorry." Glenn apologized quietly, taking a step back. He was just nervous. It was an accident. It was really creepy out there in the woods at night.

"Yeah, there was a little dust up right here." Daryl said, deciding to just pretend it didn't happen.

"What do you mean?" Glenn asked.

"I mean something went down." Daryl replied. There were definite signs of a struggle.

"This is getting weird." Glenn commented nervously, glancing around.

"Had a little trouble." Daryl added when he spotted the black blindfold they had used on Randall whenever transporting him and the night they almost executed him. He hadn't been wearing that the last time Daryl saw him. Glenn leaned down and picked it up off the ground, staring at it.

CRACK.

They both exchanged a glance when they heard something stomping towards them and ducked behind some thick tree trunks for cover. Glenn cautiously peeked out and saw that it appeared to be a walker from the way it was limping and shuffling, but it was kind of hard to tell for sure from this distance in the dark, especially since Randall had a limp too.

Daryl let out a soft, low whistle to get his attention and tossed the unlit flashlight back to him so he could light whatever it was up for him once it got closer since it seemed to be headed their way. The two of them waited as the sound of rustling leaves drew closer and closer. Daryl had his crossbow ready to fire. The human figure limping in the dark stepped in between the trees, and Glenn shined the flashlight in its face while he gripped the Gator Pro in his other hand. He was caught off-guard by what he saw. It was Randall, and he was a walker. Walker-Randall snarled and lunged at Glenn, knocking the flashlight out of his hands. Daryl wanted to shoot it, but without the light to see, there was a risk he might hit Glenn during the struggle. Glenn grunted as he pushed it away and fell the ground. Daryl took that as his chance and loosed his arrow, but he missed. The walker growled and threw itself at Daryl, attacking before he had time to reload. Daryl fell backwards and found himself stuck pinned between the walker and a tree as he held his crossbow up to block it and keep it from getting within biting range. Seeing that the reliable redneck was in trouble, Glenn felt around for his own weapon and staggered to his feet, tackling the walker away from Daryl. He used to moment to roll it over so that he was on top and swung the blade in his hand down, burying it in the top of walker-Randall's skull. It was an instant kill. Daryl picked the flashlight up off the ground as the both got back on their feet, breathing heavily after their struggler. Randall had been a hell of a lot more formidable as a walker than he had ever been as a human. Daryl shined the light on Randall's head and saw the job Glenn had done on his skull.

"Nice." He complimented the Asian boy, giving him a pat on the back, before leaning down and retrieving his crossbow while Glenn pulled his Gator Pro back out of Randall's skull. They both stared down at the late prisoner for a moment before Daryl crouched down beside the body and started examining it for wounds.

"Got his neck broke." Daryl observed. He grunted as he pulled on Randall's corpse, flipping him onto his back with one hand while he continued to hold the light with the other. Glenn squatted down beside Daryl as he continued to search the body for bite marks. "He's got no bites."

"Yeah, none you can see." Glenn said. Daryl checked Randall's neck again.

"No, I'm tellin' you. He died from this." Daryl insisted, glancing at him.

"How is that possible?" Glenn asked. The two of them shared an uneasy look with each other before casting another glance around the woods and standing back up again. Whatever it was, it was time to go. Daryl grabbed his misfired arrow from the tree it was stuck in as he passed. Glenn took one last look down at Randall's body and turned to follow Daryl back to the farmhouse. Maybe Sam or Rick would know.