AN: Here we are, another chapter. I'm sorry to say that, the thing that someone said, which I mentioned working to get over in the last chapter, had really mucked with my feelings for a while. I thought I had managed to get over it, but I hadn't. I guess with everything in real life and otherwise, it just kind of took the wind out of the sails for this one. I think, though, I've finally gotten over the hump, and I'm going to try to get this one running again.
There's a short time jump for this chapter.
I appreciate your patience. I hope you enjoy the chapter. Please don't forget to let me know what you think.
111
"Where we led you motherfuckers wrong was in lettin' you believe that we weren't all completely fuckin' out of our minds!" Merle growled. "I been tryin' to figure this shit out, but that's it. That's where the fuck we went wrong with you assholes, so I think it's time to set the motherfuckin' record straight. There ain't a single damn one of us not completely fuckin' insane, and you about to get a front-row demonstration of just what the hell each an' every damn one of us is capable of doin' if you don't back the fuck off."
Carol tensed and hugged Sophia against her, pressing her daughter's face into her chest so that she wouldn't be too frightened. Sophia trusted Merle, even when he was angry, but her experiences with Ed would likely always make her sensitive to shows of anger and violence—potential or actual. Carol noticed, though, that Sophia's body felt relaxed, like she was reading the body language of everyone in their group as they, too, relaxed. There was potential that things could erupt into something negative—that much was clear—but most of them were tired and relieved by the potential change that was underway.
Like with most situations where things just got out of hand, it was hard to say exactly where this one started or how it reached quite this point.
Of course, it really started brewing sometime in the past—maybe the moment on the highway when they'd encountered the small group of four— and it reached this point because people were tired and stressed, and that was the perfect storm for things to come to their peak.
The surgery had been a success, and the boy was better—at the very least, he was out of the proverbial woods except for the healing that would be a somewhat slow process, from what Carol understood. Like anyone who had ever had surgery before, he would simply have to heal—and that would take time. He wasn't at any immediate risk, though, and that's what Carol had understood was most important. The waiting game, now, could be done without too much stress.
Scully had called it a success, and Hershel had seemed to agree.
The boy's parents were thankful for Scully's help and, really, that should have been the end of things.
With the boy safe, they'd decided it was time to move on. They weren't sure exactly where they were going—nothing had really changed about that since they'd left the CDC—but they knew that this wasn't the right place.
Their little group met around the table, particularly at night when people went to bed and the farmhouse was quiet, and they talked. They talked about what they knew—which was, arguably, very little—and about what Scully and Mulder read in files that interested them; files that had been lifted from the CDC before its explosion. The more they read, the more things seemed to point to the fact that this was an "end-event" as Jenner had said in his writings. The world, as they knew it, was gone. It would never be the same. It might rebuild and, in fact, it surely would, but it would never be what it had been.
The world was reinventing itself, and they should all consider doing the same. In fact, that was exactly what they were considering. It was exactly what they wanted.
But they weren't going to do it here—not with so few miles between them and the overrun city of Atlanta.
It was time to go.
They stayed long enough to be sure that the boy was in no immediate danger. In exchange for the work that they'd done around the farm, and a little extra that they did besides, Merle and Daryl had bartered for some basic supplies to supplement what they already had stored in their truck. They'd also gotten some information, from Hershel, about some backroads route that would keep them away from the snare at the highway and allow them to continue on their way with, hopefully, a certain amount of ease and a lack of traffic—past or present. He'd traced the route on a map for Merle. The backroads didn't bother them. They weren't going anywhere in particular. They were simply going—and they hoped that they'd know where they were going when they got there.
They might have even stayed a bit longer, but something had been off since Patricia's husband, Otis, had returned from his run with Shane. Things had been noticeably tense—though nobody really knew why, and nothing had been said about the run at all, other than to say that they had gotten the supplies, but barely.
"My biggest concern, right now, is the potential of another herd," Mulder had admitted at the table the night before. Daryl was outside on the porch keeping watch with T-Dog. Scully was asleep, overcome with exhaustion and half-slumped against Mulder. Sophia was in bed, and Jacqui was outside somewhere, either asleep or walking a self-appointed patrol around the farm. The rest of them were gathered to chat and make decisions for their little group.
Mulder's was a legitimate concern, of course, and it was on the minds of everyone—it had been for a while. The herd on the highway stuck with all of them. The overrun streets of Atlanta remained burned into their memories. Even the small passing herds were terrifying. The idea that something could get a mass movement of Walkers in action—that was horrifying.
"Officer Friendly and his partner Deputy Dumb-Ass are fond of their guns," Merle said. "Two days ago, one of the assholes popped off a shot at a Walker that coulda been taken down with a knife. It's one gunshot, but…"
"But one day that one gunshot gets the attention of one of the Walkers," Andrea said with a sigh. "And then that Walker gets the attention of another Walker. And before you know it…"
"We're wiped out if we're caught in the wake of it," Mulder said.
"You gotta know when to fold 'em," Merle said, laughing quietly to himself. He moved to stand up from the table, clearly planning on another trip outside to smoke and check on things. "If there ain't nobody opposed, we pack up after breakfast and we head out."
If anybody had been opposed at all, nobody had said anything. They'd all known their time at the farmhouse was temporary. They hoped to find something like this—something similar, perhaps—but they'd known this wasn't the place for them since they'd been dragged here to help save the boy.
The boy was out of the literal and proverbial woods, and it was time for them to move on. That should have been the end of it, really.
Except it hadn't exactly worked out that way.
When morning had come, Carol, Andrea, and Jacqui had offered to help Jo while Daryl, Merle, and the others had split the jobs of packing up their tents and helping Hershel with a few of his chores around the farm. They had shared their plans to leave just after breakfast, and the old couple had expressed, in no uncertain terms, that they would hate to see them go and, if they wanted, they were welcome to stay a while longer. They didn't want to get stuck out there, somewhere, after all, when it was cold.
They'd assured the couple that they had provisions, would secure more as soon as possible, and would start looking for their perfect place to stay as soon as they felt it was right. They had also thanked them for all that they'd done—including the final offer of a few more supplies—and had wished the old couple all the best, hoping to see them again someday.
Over breakfast, Jo had told her youngest daughter that she might want to say goodbye to Sophia—because they'd be moving on—and the youngest girl had run upstairs to get something that she wanted, apparently, to give Sophia.
At the news that they would be leaving, things had taken a turn, really, and that had been what led to this moment—the moment where Merle held Shane, pinned to the outside wall of the house, with a knife against his throat.
Immediately after breakfast, they had started to pack up their things. They had started to say their goodbyes.
And, then, Lori had had something of a change of heart.
"Are you seriously going to leave?" She asked. Her question was directed toward everyone, perhaps, but it was Mulder that was closest to her at the time of her asking. He was, at that moment, putting the duffle bag of Scully's most-favorite and most commonly used items into their back seat.
"That would be what we usually do when we put all our things in the cars," Mulder said. He was, Carol thought, one of the happiest of them all that they were leaving.
At just that moment, Scully was coming by with another bag that she'd brought from the house—a bag with some of the medical supplies they were owed. The rest was already loaded in their supply truck. Scully was exhausted from a long-term schedule of practically being on-call around the clock, and she'd been somewhat navigating her way through the days on auto-pilot. She'd eaten everything at breakfast in an obvious stupor, and now she looked like the only thing on her mind was making it to the passenger seat of the car to curl up and sleep while Mulder drove.
When Lori grabbed her, that was when things had really started to tumble like a house of cards.
Carol watched the whole thing from where she was rearranging Sophia's things in the backseat of her red station wagon—the vehicle she and Daryl would take together. Merle's bike had been loaded into Daryl's truck, for the time being, so that he and Andrea could ride together. T-Dog would drive the supply truck, for a while, with Jacqui, and Glenn would keep Dale company in the RV.
When Lori grabbed Scully, Scully responded—perhaps from being exhausted from the constant push and pull and, maybe, simply from being sore since it seemed that Lori was always dragging Scully in one direction or another like she wasn't capable of directing her own steps. Scully slapped Lori. Hard. She slapped her hard enough that Carol heard her teeth clack together across the distance.
Lori had been stunned, to say the least, and Carol would have argued that Scully was probably equally as stunned. It had been a reaction, not a pre-meditated attack. Lori turned back to Scully, and the catfight began. Carol ended up in it because, out of instinct, she'd tried to help Scully.
While they were fighting, Lori was protesting the audacity of Scully thinking she could leave when things might still go wrong with Carl. She hadn't complained at all about being slapped. Carol's goal had been to try to tear the women apart—both of them reactively fighting with each other and, in the process, with her—and she hadn't really noticed when the others started pulling in one direction or another to try to split them all up.
Until, finally, she'd found herself dragged backwards by Daryl's arms and, once her senses were about her, he'd let her go so that she could hug Sophia.
Shane had, somehow, ended up holding tight to Scully—a little too tightly, perhaps, because Scully was fighting him, as well she could with her arms pinned, before he slipped an arm up to catch her in a choke-hold.
"That shit's illegal!" Daryl had barked at Shane when he noticed the man choking off Scully's air to subdue her.
When Mulder ran for Shane and Scully, Rick had turned his full attention to trying to stop Mulder.
That was the moment that Shane had found himself with a knife to his throat, being backed very quickly toward the wall, and Daryl's loud whistle, coupled with Dale's loud protests that everybody just calm down and stop, had brought the fight to a somewhat screeching halt so that Merle was free to remind anyone who had forgotten that they'd been playing nice, but everyone had their limits.
"Easy, son," Hershel Greene said, easing forward, toward Merle, as everyone who hadn't been involved in the original struggle moved in and, perhaps, sized up the situation and chose their sides. "Just put the knife down. We can handle this like adults and without violence."
"Tell them that shit," Merle said. "Tell 'em how the hell we can handle things. Because we was handlin' shit. Nice an' easy we was packin' our shit up to go. But we ain't leavin' without our people—all our fuckin' people—and if they want us to draw our knives, then that's what the hell we'll do." He laughed to himself. "But be fuckin' advised that Atilla's got a damned tendency to bring an axe to a knife-fight, and there ain't shit I can do about that."
Shane, who was usually someone who chose bravado and action, was very still. He seemed to understand that Merle was not bluffing as he held the blade to his throat.
Carol was certain that Merle was not bluffing. He didn't want things to get ugly, but he would go through with any threat he made.
"Nobody's going to stop you from going," Hershel said. "Not if you want to go."
"All of us."
"All of you," Hershel confirmed.
"We're not trying to force you to stay," Rick said. Carol tensed. Rick could get under Merle's skin very quickly. He always tried to use that cop voice to calm things down. Carol knew that voice well, and it made her feel anxious just to hear it. It reminded her of cops trying to talk Ed down. It never worked and, in fact, she always knew that the next time—and there would be a next time—would be worse for her just because the cops had come to use that voice on him. "We're only asking you to consider staying."
"We considered it," Mulder said for Merle. "We decided against it. Unanimously."
"Carl isn't well yet," Lori said.
"It could be months…a year even…before he's fully recovered," Scully said. In the time that it had taken everything to unfold, Mulder had gotten away from Rick, and Scully had made her way to his side. She hugged against him, able to fit rather comfortably under the protective arm he put over her.
"We don't have that kinda time," Merle said. "Got shit to do."
He decided that the danger had passed. He dropped his knife. He backed off of Shane. Shane watched him, and he relaxed, but he didn't make any move to leave his current spot.
"We wanna find where we're settlin' before the cold comes," Daryl said. "We want walls and a decent store of food before it's cold. We don't wanna worry about not bein' able to find what the hell we need, and if we think we're gonna build something? We gotta go now."
"Your son's going to be fine," Mulder said. "He's strong. He's healing. We've done what we can do. It's up to you to do whatever you need to do, now, to keep him safe while he finishes healing."
"What about infection?" Lori asked.
"The wound's healing very well," Scully said. "It's nearly healed on the outside. Keep it clean and the risk of infection, at this point, is really very low."
"It's safe here," Lori said. In her tone, there was something reminiscent of a child stomping their foot with frustration. "There's no need for anyone to leave. Hershel and Jo have graciously offered to let us stay."
"That's fine for everyone sleepin' in the house," Merle said. "While the rest of us freeze to death sleepin' in the yard in tents this winter. Besides—Atlanta is full to the damn brim with corpses, if you didn't know how damn bad it is. And we ain't near far enough away for them to get tired or turned or whatever the hell else—so that they don't come this way. All it takes is one thing to get 'em goin' and they'll trample this damn farm to the ground. Place is nice—great place to live. Woulda dreamed of havin' some shit like this to call my own once upon a damn time. Now, though, it's like livin' in some kinda major ass flood zone. You don't know when the shit's gonna hit the fan, but you know damn good an' well it's comin'."
"We don't know where we're going," Mulder offered. "We don't know what we'll find. We have an idea of what we're looking for, though…"
"And you're willing to just risk it?" Lori asked. "Wandering around out there looking for it?"
Mulder laughed quietly.
"I've spent my whole life looking for things I couldn't be sure I'd ever find," he said. "The only difference is…I've got a real hunch that we're going to find this."
"You can't leave," Lori said.
"Listen here, Princess," Merle said, practically growling now, "we can do whatever the hell we want. Who the hell made you Queen of Sheba? You may have both of these assholes pussy-whipped into submission, but they ain't me. And that thing you got don't affect none of the rest of us."
Carol stifled a laugh and hugged Sophia closer to her, already imagining the questions that her daughter might present to her later. Sophia, relaxed and tolerating that Carol was smashing her face into her chest, was trying to turn her face enough to watch what was going on.
"Come on, Scully," Mulder said, gently leading Scully from the middle of the fight. Exhausted, and clearly happy to be curled into him, Scully moved with him, anxious to get to the car. "It's time to go."
"Wait…" Patricia said, approaching them all. She held her hand up at Merle when he opened his mouth to say something in frustration. "I'm not asking you to stay. Otis and me—we want to go, too."