Chapter 19: The Strangers

The walls around Woodbury stood. The gates were busted through and the burnt out properties were crawling with walkers. Daryl parked a half mile from the town, and he and Merle sat sharing a set of binoculars. There were bodies littering the ditches and roads, many faces Daryl didn't recognize. But the way Merle looked when he saw them told a different story.

"You knew 'em," Daryl said quietly, peering through the binoculars for any sign of life past the gates of Woodbury. With the number walkers coming in and out of the gates, he didn't find it likely there would be anyone left.

"Yeah. I knew 'em. Most of 'em. Didn't know their names or nothin'. This one here?" He tapped the window glass with his stump and looked down at the rotting corpse of a blonde woman. "I knew her name. Laura. She worked in the library. Loaned me books sometimes. Warmed my bed some nights, too. Damn shame. She was sweet." He looked away from the corpse and glanced at his brother. Daryl put the binoculars down and put the truck into drive. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, and Merle noticed. "You worried 'bout her, ain't ya? It's been a day and a damn half. Christ, she knows how to take care of herself, don't she?"

"She knows," Daryl bit out, driving slowly toward the gates.

"You left her with food, weapons and the damn dog. Anything tries to get into that house, they're gonna regret it."

"I know."

"Then get your head out of the damn clouds, boy, and focus." Daryl snapped his head to face Merle.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Oh, I wouldn't? Christ, you know how many nights I beat my fists bloody on the walls at juvie? Why'd I do that, huh? I was just a dumbass kid, but the one thing I knew was that while I was locked up, he was beatin' on you. Maybe givin' you worse than I ever got. And there wasn't a fuckin' thing I could do about it." Daryl said nothing. He only gripped the steering wheel tighter.

A few walkers spotted the truck and started staggering their way. Daryl rounded the corner by the gates and drove by slowly, seeing nothing but a mass of walking corpses bumping into one another, their dead senses seeking something fresh and warm to sink their teeth into.

"Ain't nothin' here. Let's get outta here," Merle urged. Daryl stepped on the gas, and a few walkers trailed them, but after a mile, they were nothing but tiny dots in Daryl's rear view mirror. "I hate to say I told you so, but…"

"Then don't," Daryl bit out.

"What? You wanna try trackin' 'em with all these geeks around? Look, I know you been holed up in your love nest for a while, but them fuckers don't stop. And once they get hold of you, it's game over."

"Would ya just shut up for a minute?" Daryl asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. Merle smirked.

"You just can't admit this was a bad idea."

"Can't say I didn't try," Daryl spat. He leaned back in his seat and cut off the ignition. Merle raised his eyebrows and looked around to make sure there weren't any walkers close.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"How far is the prison?"

"You're shittin' me, right?"

"How far?"

"Another six miles or so."

"Can you get us there from here?"

"Can I? Yeah. Will I?" He started to say something else, but Daryl pounded his fist on the dash. Merle watched him, watched his hand slide down and watched him slump in his seat.

"What's got this fire lit under you, baby brother? What makes findin' Officer Friendly so goddamn important?"

"You wouldn't understand." They sat in silence for a moment. Daryl chewed the edge of his thumbnail, an old nervous habit he hadn't found himself doing lately. But now, as he sat there in the old pickup with his brother at his side, he thought back to the highway traffic snarl and the farm. He remembered the hot blood pumping through his veins when he pulled himself out of that river gully. He remembered the hope that had filled him at the start of that trip, a hope that blossomed anew when he found Sophia's doll. He'd been certain he was going to find her, and he hadn't. And before that, he'd failed to find his own brother. Of course, Merle and his resourcefulness had had something to do with that. Still, he hadn't gotten to him in time.

All of these rescue missions had left him empty handed, and now here he was, still looking, still coming up short. And the bitch of it all was that his heart wasn't really in it this time around. As much as he wanted to find the rest of the group, now that he was out looking for them, all he wanted was to be back home with his wife and baby.

"Why are we here?" Merle asked, narrowing his eyes at his brother. "Your head ain't in this. 'Least your heart ain't, anyway. Why'd you drag us out here?"

"I got a kid, alright? What's her life gonna be like if all she's got is me and her mama? And maybe you? She's gonna be alone. 'Cause we ain't gonna be here forever. She's gonna need people. That farm? It's home. But it's only gonna be home so long as there's people there to make it that way. Right now? We're doin' alright. But ten years from now? Hell, I could get taken out by a walker tomorrow. What if…what if somethin' were to happen to me or to Carol while she's still just a baby?"

"I'd make sure she's taken care of," Merle offered.

"No offense, bro, but you couldn't keep a cockroach alive." Merle snorted but shook his head. His brother had a point, but he wasn't going to let him give him shit without getting a little back.

"The second you picked that kid up and took her home, you knew what you was askin' for. That kid? She don't give a pile of horse shit what you're worried about. All she cares about is she's got somebody to change her diaper when she shits and put a bottle in her mouth when she's hungry. Somebody else could shoot you dead and take her home tomorrow, and she wouldn't know the goddamn difference."

"You ain't raisin' my daughter."

"M'bettin' her own folks planned on raisin' her, and then the world turned into a fuckin' nightmare and flipped everybody on their asses. I ain't sayin' I'm gonna raise your daughter, but I kept myself alive for damned near fifty years."

"Don't give yourself so much credit. I'm the one that dragged your ass to the hospital to have your stomach pumped enough times I could probably count 'em on two hands."

"That ain't me anymore," Merle considered. "I admit, I'm a prick. But the shit that went down back there?" He nodded his head back toward Woodbury. "That ain't never gonna happen to me again. I'll make goddamn sure." He leaned his head back and stared out the window. "You need Rick, 'cause you think havin' your family back together again will secure a future for your kid? Let me tell you somethin', little brother. If it came down to your kid and his kid, which one you think Officer Friendly would choose first?" Daryl glanced at his brother and swallowed hard. He sighed and started off down the road again. "Yeah. See, you got this idea that things are gonna work the way they used to, but this world's always gonna be kill or be killed. It comes down to it, and he's gotta choose? He's always gonna choose his own. You'd be wise to do the same."

Carol bathed Lydia after supper, and once she gave her a warm bottle and got her settled down for the evening, she stepped out on the front porch and let Dog out to do his business. She settled in the porch swing, watching the fireflies come out. As the daylight faded slowly into dusk, she thought about where Daryl was, if he was safe, if he'd found anyone.

The more she thought about it, the more her stomach twisted into knots. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered if she'd ever see him again.

The idea of it was driving her crazy. She was half tempted to go off after them, but she couldn't do that to Lydia. She needed to keep her safe, not drag her off into the wild out there where anything could happen.

The thought had been in the back of her mind for some time. What if something did happen to the farm? What if she had to take Lydia and run? How would she survive out there with a baby? The thought of it was chilling. It truly was not a world meant for children any longer, and that was why they had to do everything they could to protect her.

Dog finished his business and took off chasing the fireflies, and as the night darkened and the moon rose high in the sky, Carol began to feel sleepy.

"Dog. Come on, boy. Come on." She whistled for him, and he reluctantly stopped chasing the bugs and followed her commands. She got up and held the door open for him to let him in. She turned to take one last look toward the fields before she headed back in for the night.

It hadn't taken her long to fall asleep. It was a restless sleep filled with nothing but nightmares. Some were about Ed, but most were about Daryl and Merle and what awful things might be happening to them.

It wasn't until she heard something shatter downstairs, followed by Dog's frantic barking that she sat up straight in her bed and listened. Thankfully, the commotion hadn't woken Lydia, and Carol quickly pulled herself out of bed and reached for the gun under the mattress.

She could hear voices downstairs and screaming, and Dog was still barking, and when she stepped out of the room, she heard a man yell out as Dog growled.

"Dog!" Carol yelled. The dog kept growling, and the man kept yelling, and Carol flipped on the lights, surprising one of the intruders, who gasped audibly. Carol made it to the landing and aimed her weapon.

"I don't know who you are or what you want, but if you agree to leave, I'll call off my Dog and let you go."

"Please! We just need a place to sleep for the night! We've come so far!" It was a woman's voice. "Please." Carol took a step down the stairs, peering into the dim light from the foyer lamp.

"Get your goddamn dog off me!" the man yelled, struggling as the dog sank his teeth harder into the man's ankle.

"Dog! Off!" Carol commanded, keeping her gun raised as she took another step down the stairs. Dog let go but stayed close, baring his teeth and snarling at the man on the floor.

"Please," the woman begged, stepping up onto the first step. She was frail and pale, and her arm was crudely amputated at the elbow. It was wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage. She held her good arm over the swell in her stomach. She looked to be about eight months pregnant. She cried out in pain and doubled over.

"This is my home," Carol bit out, voice unwavering. "You need to leave."

"Look, lady. My wife's lost a lot of blood. We've been on the road for days. We came from Nebraska. We just need a place to rest."

"Was she bit?" Carol asked, taking another step down, as the man helped his wife off the steps and pulled her into the corner by the door.

"We cut above the bite."

"How long?"

"What?" he asked, narrowing his dark eyes at her.

"When was she bit."

"It's been…six hours. Maybe seven," the woman murmured softly. "Please. We'll sleep in the barn. Just…please, let us…oh!" She doubled over in pain, and the man caught her around the middle. Carol lowered the gun just a little.

"Dog, lay down," she commanded. Dog stopped growling and licked his snout before moving to the living room. Carol turned her attention back to the couple. "How long have you been having those pains?" Carol asked, taking one more step down.

"I don't…I'm not sure," she panted.

"Since we took her arm," the man remembered.

"Your wife's in labor." She looked up toward the stairs, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. She knew she should make them leave. But this woman was in pain and in desperate need of care, and the man looked absolutely helpless as he held his wife up to keep her standing. And in that moment, she reminded herself of the conversations she'd had with Daryl about needing people, about making a community. It couldn't just be them forever. She didn't know these people, but she didn't know many people in this world. But right now, in this moment, these people needed her help.

"Please," he begged, his lip quivering as his wife doubled over in pain again. "Please help my wife. Just…don't send us back out there. Not tonight. Please." Carol took a deep breath and lowered her gun. She tucked it into the back of her pants and took a step back.

"Follow me. I have a room in the back." She nodded for him to follow. The man kept his arm around his wife and held her up as they walked through the living room and down a small hallway to a little bedroom behind the dining room. There were boxes piled in the corner, and the room hadn't been used much, but it was one they'd been clearing out a little bit at a time over the last few months.

Carol pulled back the quilt on the bed, and the man helped his wife sit down on the mattress.

"Thank you," he murmured, taking a step back and running his fingers through his dark hair.

"You can stay until she's able to travel again. After that, I can't promise anything."

"Thank you," the woman whimpered, reaching out to touch Carol's arm. "You're the first person to let us into their home since we left ours."

"Actually, you broke into mine," Carol pointed out.

"Sorry about that," the man murmured. "You can understand."

"I can understand. I also can tell you not to go upstairs for any reason at all. If you do, I'll let my dog have your leg for dinner." The man held his hands up.

"I'm not leaving her side."

"Honey, I'm cold," the woman cried out. He looked at Carol.

"There are blankets in the closet there. I have some things to take care of, but I'll be down to look in on your wife."

"Thank you, again." Carol nodded and started to leave.

"Wait," the woman called. "What's your name?"

"I'm Carol," she said softly.

"Carol," she panted, placing her hand on her belly. "Thank you for everything." She reached out then and took the man's hand. "I'm Lucy, and this is my husband Negan."

Author's Note: So…I did a thing. I hope you'll let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!