AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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The run took six days, but it was worth it. During the long-distance run, Glenn, Daryl, and Rick all camped out in various cleared locations together. They got two semi-trucks running and a large moving truck running. They loaded all the beds that they possibly could into those two trucks. They found towels and linens at a linen outlet store, and they cleaned out a great deal of that store's supplies. They ran across several small vets' offices during their extended run, two clinics and a dental office, a baby supply store, six picked-over grocery stores, and at least four gas stations where they were at least able to snag a few sacks of items left behind by looters that had come before them, and they were able to siphon fuel for their trucks. They also found a feed and seed store and were able to clean out a good bit of required supplies on Hershel's list.
They returned, triumphant and not at all humble, to the prison with all their spoils. They employed the help of the rest of their small group to get the trucks unloaded, but the unloading process took another two days. Switching out the beds took another two.
Everything that they had in excess, they stored in empty cells for future use.
When the trucks were finally empty, they pulled them around, outside the fences, to help block the area that still needed repairs. The trucks wouldn't keep the Walkers out entirely, since whether they meant to or whether it was accident, they could still maneuver around barriers to some degree, but it would slow them down enough to allow Daryl and the others to get in there and figure out how to repair the fences.
While Daryl did some hunting, Hershel worked on building a nice barn for smoking meat, and Rick worked on hauling wood and water for the washing, cleaning, and cooking that Lori, Maggie, Beth, and Carol were doing in between rearranging items in the prison, Glenn and T-Dog took the smaller truck and found a supply store for lumber and other odds and ends they would need to build and repair things. Much of it had been damaged with weather and the fact that, at the end of the world, nobody was really building too much and, therefore, it had started to simply rot from resting, piled together, in the outside area of a lumber yard, but they scraped together what they could use. They also loaded some rolls of wire that they were able to handle, and snagged what tools could be useful without electricity.
Finally, it was time to rest, sit back and admire what they'd done, and plan their future steps.
The uneven ground of the prison yard was sometimes hard for a toddling Sophia to navigate. She was determined, though, to do it. She didn't want to be carried. She wanted to run free and, honestly, Daryl couldn't blame her. She'd rarely been given free reign of anything more than a room here or there.
And the yard was safe. They had worked hard to guarantee that.
So, while Carol read a book, on a blanket in the sun, with her free day, Daryl was keeping Sophia entertained when she didn't need to be fed—something Carol had said was the greatest gift that Daryl could give her.
Sophia wailed and went rigid if Daryl tried to pick her up and carry her. She'd screamed from the moment he'd picked her up, after worrying over her running around on the gravel and concrete, until he'd put her feet on the grass.
When she was left to roam free, she was all smiles. She would look back at him, from time to time, bark out a pleased "Da" at him to make sure he knew that she knew he was following her, and she would laugh almost hysterically over jokes that only she could understand. She fell down often—very often—but even that didn't bother her too much. Daryl learned quickly that if he made a big deal over her fall, she cried about it. If he didn't, at most she might turn around and make the same expression her mother made when something hurt, but wasn't unbearable by any stretch of the imagination. She'd usually hold her palms up in Daryl's direction, but she was happy when he brushed his fingers over them or kissed them to heal whatever discomfort she was feeling.
In the lower part of the yard, where the ground was softest for falling on repeatedly, Daryl found a seat for himself in the dirt. Sophia toddled around him, talking to him about things that he couldn't entirely understand, and she brought him gifts. Every time she started to put something in her mouth, he let out a loud noise that startled her, but stopped her from eating whatever it was. So, instead of eating the things she selected, she brought them to him to soothe over whatever had made her "Da" squawk at her so harshly. He piled her gifts up—leaves from the trees sprouting around the yard, thanks to the lack of upkeep in the prison yard, sticks from those very same trees and scrub bushes, blades of grass ripped up in toddler-sized handfuls, and the occasional six-legged friend—in small piles beside him. The bugs he allowed to escape, but the rest he kept for when she'd come over and, holding both her hands palm up and furrowing her brow, bark at him as if to ask where her treasures were.
Knowing that Carol was happy and was, for the first time in a while, actually relaxing made Daryl feel good. Knowing that Sophia was happy and was able to stretch her legs and explore the world a little made Daryl feel good.
Knowing that they were safe, and on their way to building the best life that they could, made Daryl feel excellent.
Rick found him while he was relaxing on the ground near Sophia.
"Can I sit?" Rick asked.
"I don't own the land," Daryl said with a laugh.
Rick sat down. Daryl was glad that he chose to sit instead of standing, mostly lording over Daryl.
"Hershel's setting up a clinic," Rick said.
"Good," Daryl ceded.
"He says—it could be a couple of weeks before the baby comes," Rick said. "Or it could be a few days."
"Lori got any thoughts on it?" Daryl asked.
Rick laughed to himself.
"She'd probably tell you before she'd tell me," Rick said.
Daryl didn't pry too deeply into Rick and Lori's marriage—mostly because he didn't care. Still, everyone who had eyes and enough world-knowledge to be able to comprehend anything happening around them, knew that the marriage was bad and getting worse, practically by the hour.
Daryl didn't know or care, really, who was to blame. In the end, he supposed that they were both at least a little bit to blame. He could certainly point his finger at some things that Lori had done along the way to make things hard in their marriage. He wasn't going to pretend Rick was a peach, though. The man pissed most of them off regularly. Even though he seemed mostly motivated to do what he needed to do to make sure that Lori and Carl had all they ever wanted, and even though that might seem like something that would make his wife happy, Daryl knew there were things that he'd done that Lori simply didn't approve of.
The marriage was disintegrating, but every man had to handle his own shit when it came to his woman.
"You gotta get prepared for it, regardless," Daryl offered, to shift the conversation away from Rick's failing marriage and back in the direction of the fact that Lori was set to give birth to a baby any day—a baby that Rick was, at the very least, going to claim as his child, regardless of what the child's biological parentage might actually be.
"As good as all this is," Rick said, "I think we need to talk about what comes next."
"We already been talking about what comes next," Daryl said with a laugh. "Got a list that's gonna last until Sophia's grown. Gotta start practicing with them hand planers. Start makin' our own planks. Need barns up. Fences. Start trackin' and trappin' livestock to re-domesticate them. I'ma build a nice ass rabbit hutch to help keep us in fresh meat when the huntin' ain't no good. Wanna repair them back fences, open up the back of the prison yard, and, eventually, extend the fences out to bring in all this open land. Lay out where we wanna plant. Take down these extra fences we don't need. Make it work for us like we want it. Work on buildin' a pumpin' system and an irrigation system." Daryl reached in his pocket, fished out a cigarette from his pack, and lit it. He squawked at Sophia who was seconds away from eating what appeared to be a roly poly, and laughed to himself when she dropped it and looked at him like he'd betrayed her because she could no longer find it in the grass. "We know where the hell we're goin', Rick, it's just a long an' steady walk to get there. But—hell—at least we got all this in the meantime."
Rick laughed to himself and nodded.
Now that they weren't required to find a place to sleep and be secured in that place before the sun set too deeply and the Walkers really got active, they were back to spending a little of that evening time sitting together—mostly as a group, unless someone had some reason to want to be removed for a bit—and discussing the life that they all hoped to find.
It was doing wonders for bringing them closer, despite their differences.
It also meant that they'd all been able to present things they hoped for, and they'd all been able to present ideas about how to make life better for everyone.
"Maybe I was talking about—where we need to go next," Rick said.
"You narrowed it down to what's most important?" Daryl asked.
"We've got some food," Rick said. "We're safe for the time being. But if we push in to the prison a little bit, we're going to find three things that we need."
"Which are?" Daryl asked. "Not that I disagree…I think we gonna find a lot of shit we can use, but…"
"There's a cafeteria somewhere," Rick said. "Besides the fact that we probably can't get it functioning, there are going to be pots and pans for cooking for large numbers. Things that'll make everyone's life easier while they're preparing food."
"So, Carol," Daryl said. "You're talkin' about shit that's gonna make Carol's life easier. And Beth's when Carol gets her to help, 'cause you ain't some dumbass that don't realize how Carol gets taken advantage of and spends her whole damned life puttin' food in everybody's mouths—a lot more'n she puts in her own."
Rick frowned at him.
"We're doing our best to divide the resources. And the work," he said. "Hershel keeps Maggie busy most of the time. Lori's go to be careful."
"I ain't gonna argue it right now," Daryl offered. "You're fuckin' up my Zen."
"The cafeteria would also have a large food store," Rick said. "Lots of non-perishable food. We could find an armory. Know we're protected. And we could find the infirmary. Know we're protected on that front, too." He shook his head. "I'm not really asking permission. We have to make a decision on what we're doing next. I'm the leader. I'll make the decision if we can't arrive at it together."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"You're just lettin' us peons know what the hell we can agree with if we feel like we wanna have the satisfaction of bein' in on the winning decision. That it, Rick?"
Rick frowned at him again. This time, Daryl could see the vein on Rick's forehead as it pulsed a little. He recognized the slightest hint of warning that Daryl had put behind the words.
If it wasn't the best decision, then there was a good chance that it wouldn't be made by the group—and Rick was really in a position where he'd be hard-pressed to make the lot of them go along with something they didn't want to do.
Not now.
"Sophia!" Daryl called, stopping the little girl as she was about chew on a particularly delicious looking twig, with leaves still attached, that had fallen off one of the little scrub trees planted by the birds.
"Da!" She yelled back at him. She launched into a string of babble—some of which he could have sworn included the word "here" as she toddled over to him and offered him the fat twig as a gift.
"Thanks, sweetheart," he said, taking it from her. When she leaned into him, he realized what she wanted, and he pulled her into his lap. He gave her the twig back so that she could sit on his legs and play with it.
Rick was still silent. He was watching, but he wasn't saying anything. Finally, though, he did speak.
"You have something else you think is more urgent than—opening up some more space? Possibly securing more weapons, more food, more needed supplies, and more medical supplies? Because—if you think there's something more urgent, I'd like to hear your argument."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"This is one time I think you're right, Rick," Daryl offered. "We oughta push in. Start openin' up more space. See what the prison's got to offer. Looks like we're in the main building. Could be a commissary, too. Tools in a workroom. A gym. Library. Hell—it ain't shit we got to have, but this is about buildin' a life now. Not just survivin'. So—if we ready to push in? I say we push in. It would do us some good, too, to push in far enough to see if there's any damage inside that goes with that damage outside. It don't look like it from the field, but looks can be deceiving."
Rick laughed to himself.
"If you agreed with me, why did you act like I was pushing you into something?" Rick asked.
Daryl hummed to himself. Sophia rocked on his lap, happily babbling about her stick and occasionally showing it to Daryl like he'd be amazed at how the breeze rustled the little leaves. Every now and again, she leaned against him—proof that she was growing a little sleepy. He kissed her head when she leaned it against him.
"Maybe, Rick, I just wanted to remind you that—I don't intend on bein' pushed. I'll go wherever the hell we need to go of my own free will. But I don't like to be pushed. And you push everyone too damn much, they gonna push back. Maybe I just—wanted to remind you of that point."
"I heard you," Rick offered after a moment.
Daryl half expected him to get up. He thought, maybe, the man might walk away to nurse hurt feelings or an aching ego. To his surprise, instead, Rick stayed where he was. He sat, quietly, and he looked around at the same thing Daryl was looking at—everything that they eventually hoped to encompass in their fences. Everything they hoped would serve them well.
Daryl—and Sophia, for that matter—didn't mind the company.