A/N You guys are the best, thank you so much. Shall we see what our couple is up to? Let's.
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He doesn't want to give it to her yet. He's worried she might put the mirror back. He gets it, she feels guilty about taking things that aren't hers. She's a good person and that's real sweet, but the world is different now.
He stashes the mirror in the seat pocket. He'll give it to her when they're long gone from this place.
As they're storing things in the van a different thought crosses his mind and he suggests, "Ya know, it don't look like they ever had electricity out here. Probably cost too much money ta run the line in. That means there's a generator. It mighta ran out of fuel after the farmer died. Anyway, I'ma find it n see if I can get it runnin', then you can have that shower or bath or whatever ya wanted."
She can see he's a little embarrassed just mentioning it. She's not sure why it would be, but he often seems awkward when he's trying to be nice. "That's really thoughtful Daryl, but I'm not sure how I feel about using this woman's shower."
"Ya don't hafta, there's that bedroom and bath down at the end of the hall, it don't look like anyone used it in a long time, everythin' looks kinda bare."
"I wondered about that. It looks like it was a boy's room. Maybe he's been away at college or something." That thought makes her wonder if this little family might have a survivor. She's not sure whether to pray that they do, or pray that all of them are with God now.
Neither of them really wants to separate so she follows him around the far side of the house where they find a lean-to shed, and sure enough it houses a big old-fashion generator, probably a hold over from the 1960s. Old is good, it's usually easier to work on. He does note, "It's probably pretty noisy, the sound might attract sumthin'."
She nods agreement but also points out, "We haven't seen anyone dead alive or anywhere in between since we've been here, except for the people we…the people who used to live here."
He thinks about that a minute, they're so remote maybe there isn't anyone around. Could they be that lucky? He nods and says, "Okay, but before I do anythin' else I'ma get the van fueled it up and get it headed in the right direction out the driveway n toward the road. If we hafta get outta here in a hurry don't stop ta think and don't wait for me, just go. Run ta the van, get in and drive off if you have to. A'ight?"
"Yes, okay." No way, she could never just leave him behind.
The first thing they do is fill up every space in the van, the drawers and every nook and cranny with canned goods. They've even got a couple of milk crates filled with canned goods on the floor next to the bed. They won't mind stumbling around them, they're grateful to have so much good food.
It seems like a lot, but they know all this abundance is temporary. Food goes fast. Daryl does have a little treasure he found hidden behind the beet jars, "They wasn't all organic and homegrown n shit, someone around here liked a little junk food in the mornin'." He smiles as he holds it up, "I found a box of Pop Tarts. If ya ask real nice I might even share."
She just smiles and shakes her head, "I used to beg my Mama to buy those things. She'd say, 'Beth, they're a ridiculous waste of money, I can make you far better treats than those,' and she could. But all my friends ate them so of course I wanted them too."
"Well now we got some n if you wanna eat one I promise I ain't gonna tell your Mama." He's so good at making her laugh.
Once the food is loaded up they drive over to the fuel tank and fill up, and besides Daryl's big red gas can, he fills two more that the farmer had stored in the barn. He's able to secure them to the back of the van with heavy duty bungee cords he also found in the barn. He shrugs, "They should stay on alright and if they don't, at least they'll fall behind us n outta the way."
Everything is set, they're ready to leave on a dime, but they're not going quite yet. Not if they don't have to. She stands close while he works on the generator, and he remarks, "The guy took real good care of his stuff. The barn was neat as a pin n this thing's been kept serviced. It just needs a little primin'."
His words hurt them both, it's sad to think about these proud hardworking people getting caught up in the sickness that has ended the world. No one is safe from whatever this is, not even out here so far from civilization.
The second time Daryl pulls the cord the big machine kicks on and Beth thinks he might actually be feeling a little proud when he shrugs, "That'll get the well pump workin' and water to the house. I'll check the water heater and you'll be all set."
"And you too."
"What? You sayin' I'm dirty?"
"I'm saying since our last bath in the river we've both been covered in blood, and God only knows what else. I don't think a shower would hurt you." It's not that she thinks he's dirty, she thinks he's so busy worrying about their survival he often forgets to take care of himself.
He gets his little dig, "Well geez mom, thanks for lookin' out for me."
He clears the house again before she goes in the guest room. She's got her back pack with clean panties, clean bra, the shampoo, conditioner and bar soap she took, her big hair brush and a hair tie. For all she knows this will be the last hot shower she ever gets to take. Once they leave here it's liable to be all icy cold plunges in rivers and lakes. She's not about to rush this.
While she's in the shower he takes care of something they left in the kitchen. The farmer's wife. He carries her body out and lays it down several yards beyond the barn. Then he retrieves the farmer from the barn and lays them side by side.
He doesn't want to burn the bodies quite yet, the smoke and flames could draw unwanted attention. For now he covers them with a canvas tarp, before they go he'll douse the canvas with gas and strike the match.
It seems strange but he feels compelled to speak to them, maybe Beth's not the only one with a little bit of guilt, "Hey, thanks for everythin'. I'll set ya free before we leave."
He's just getting a fire going in the cookstove when Beth finally walks in from her shower. He teases, "Damn girl, I thought maybe ya fell asleep in there."
She's all smiles with her wet hair tied back in a ponytail and her skin pink from the hot water, "I could have stayed in there forever Daryl, but I thought I'd better save you a little hot water."
"Yeah, thanks, real thoughtful. I'm hungry, you hungry? I got the stove goin' so we can heat sumthin' up."
They decide to spoil themselves; they can't take it all with them anyway. They open a jar of home canned shredded roast beef and one of new potatoes, there's both corn and green beans, pickles and tomatoes, peaches and Daryl's got a jar of strawberry jam he plans to eat for dessert. They smile as they sit across from each other enjoying the big feast.
He's got an idea and he runs it by her, "If ya don't mind hangin' out another day or two, I's thinkin' this might be a good place for me ta teach ya how ta use them guns. We got some wide-open spaces and so far this place feels pretty safe. There's plenty ta eat, but if there's trouble the van's ready ta go. Whaddya think?"
He wishes they could stay for good. They'd have just as much chance of making a go of it here as anywhere, but nah. He promised her he'd take her home and he's not one to back down on a promise.
"I think that's a great idea. I'm anxious to learn, I know I'll feel safer. There's something else I was going to suggest we do."
"Oh yeah, like what?"
"I was wondering why all the gates are open, the ones for the animals. The one to the chicken coop, the one to the pig pen, the cows were let out and the horses. I think maybe if one of these people knew they were sick and what was going to happen them, maybe they wanted to free the animals before the inevitable. They'd at least be giving them a chance."
"Could be, yeah."
"There's no point in us trying to round them all up, but I was hoping maybe we'd find a chicken or two. I know how those birds are, they're close by somewhere and it's very likely they've been laying eggs. Doesn't that sound delicious Daryl, eggs? And besides eggs, think about this, we have lard and flour and evaporated milk in the pantry, we could make ourselves a fried chicken dinner. Doesn't that sound good?"
He'd already planned to go along for the eggs, but the thought of fried chicken has him sold for sure, "Hell yeah. First thing in the mornin' I'm goin' chicken huntin'."
They clean the kitchen and then he nudges her shoulder with his, "I'ma go shower off the blood, the guts, the green beans and the stink."
She can't help giggling, "I never said you stink."
"Whatever Beth Greene, whatever."
While he's showering she checks the book case in the living room. It's full of classics and she thinks maybe she'll take a couple of the books with her. Some Steinbeck and some Hemingway and even some of those newer detective novels. There's also a bible. She holds it to her heart and whispers, "Thank you for teaching me about faith Daddy."
Daryl figures what the hell, if he's going to be doing all of this showering maybe he should get some clean shorts and socks. As he opens the dresser drawer he notices something odd. The width of the drawers is much more narrow than the width of the dresser itself, then he realizes, there are hidden compartments on either side of the big piece of furniture.
At first he tries to pull one open, but no. Then he discovers, if you push on it, it slowly glides out. When it does, there it is, the motherlode. There are a couple of long guns and two pistols. He checks the other side of the dresser and there's a second compartment, this one filled with boxes of ammo.
Shit, maybe these folks were in a militia. Maybe they were preppers. Maybe they just felt vulnerable out here alone. The reason doesn't matter.
He grabs the shorts and the socks, takes a quick shower and joins her downstairs, "Hey, I got sumthin' ta show ya."
When they're back upstairs he pushes on the side of the dresser, the compartment opens and Beth gasps, "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh." Never did she think she'd be excited about guns and ammunition, but when whole world changed and she changed too.
They agree to just keep everything closed up for now, before they leave they'll take what they can use.
There's a checkerboard all set up in the front room and he challenges her to a game. It turns out neither one of them is very good, but that doesn't matter. They're laughing and having fun and this almost feels like they're home. She wonders, if she asked him to stay here would he agree? She thinks he might, but she tries to bury that thought. She has to at least try to get home to Mama and Daddy.
It seems every day is a big exhausting day; this one is no different. Neither of them can quit yawning and he suggests, "You can sleep in that empty bedroom upstairs, I'll sleep in the van."
She's tired and cranky and she's not having it, "Daryl, you're really smart and you've saved my life a bunch of times, but you have the dumbest ideas about sleeping arrangements. My gawd, you almost got eaten last night!"
"Hey, whoa, slow down, I's just makin' a suggestion."
Her words don't come out quite right, "We're sleeping together and that's that…" and now she's beet red with embarrassment and he's fighting both a smile and big dose of anxiety, "What I meant is, it's better if we stick together. We'll drag another mattress in there and we can both sleep in the spare room. It will be so much safer that way."
"I damn sure ain't gonna argue with ya boss, I see you're in no mood. Let's do this."
"Stop that Daryl."
"Yes Ma'am."
She can see he's trying his hardest not to laugh and she playfully punches his arm and says, "Sometimes I'm right."
He shrugs, "I'd guess you're right mosta the time. Now let's get some sleep."
She's relieved they're in the same room, the door is closed and the window is cracked halfway to let in the fresh night air. She offered to sleep on the mattress on the floor, but of course he said no. In so many ways he's an old-fashion man, and Beth has decided Daryl Dixon wears that well. She wouldn't change a thing about him.
She's a little embarrassed to be thinking such thoughts, but she can't help herself. She falls asleep wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
There's almost no noise at all out here. He even shut the generator off, he'll get it running again in the morning. For tonight, they have a flashlight if they need it. The mattress is comfortable and the room is dark like he likes. It's not too hot, it's not too cold. Everything is just great, but Daryl's having trouble getting to sleep.
There's her fragrance and her soft sleep noises, and the thought of how good she looked laying in that bed. He's trying not to think about any of those things, but how can he help himself when she's so close.
He's up first in the morning and he gets the generator going again. He stokes the fire in the cookstove and there's an old-style percolator not unlike what he's got in the van. He aims to put this one to good use.
Beth wakes to the smell of coffee brewing and smiles at the thought of Daryl in the kitchen. How nice, and she gets to use a real bathroom. She's getting spoiled, they need to leave this place soon or she'll never go.
She's all smiles when she gets to the kitchen and there he is, pouring their coffees. "This is wonderful Daryl, thanks."
"Yeah well drink up girl, we gotta get out there n herd up them chickens, ya got me wantin' eggs for breakfast."
"It's a deal, I'm starving."
She grabs the egg bucket from the chicken coop and he asks, "Ya really need that big thing? How many ya plan ta eat?"
"Well, I plan to try and find as many as we can. As long as we don't wash them they'll be good for at least two weeks, maybe a month if we're lucky. Don't worry, when you crack a bad one you know instantly."
He's smiling, "I knew I'd learn stuff from ya. A'ight, let's fill that bucket."
They don't have to be as quiet as when they're deer hunting, but the chickens are naturally going to want to run, unless there's scratch. She planned for that. She's got a little burlap bag she filled from the feed barrel and she reaches in it now, sprinkling the scratch on the ground while softly clicking her tongue and calling "here chickie chickie."
A couple of the birds show up and Daryl's stunned when she suddenly grabs one around the neck. He can't be outdone, he grabs the other, then he finds out she knows how to wring a chicken's neck. She's full of surprises.
"Whoa girl, I had no idea ya were a certified chicken killer."
"Well I wouldn't put it like that. It's survival, just like your hunting. Growing up on the farm the chickens were my job. Feeding them, gathering the eggs, cleaning the coop, and when Mama wanted a chicken to cook it was my job to get her a chicken."
"For now we'll let these bleed out while we go find eggs." He does the job of hanging them by their feet in a cool corner of the barn, slitting their throats to let them bleed. She teases, "You know Daryl, you do such good work I think I'll let you pluck them too."
"Yeah? I don't think so. I think you'll do one n I'll do one."
They saw where the chickens walked out of the brush so they grab the bucket and walk back that way. "Just keep your eye out because they'll lay eggs anywhere."
No sooner are the words out of her mouth than he says, "Got one." They see the chickens here and there and it's not long until they've nearly filled the bucket with eggs.
Beth spreads the rest of the scratch, the birds may as well have it. She tries not to think about what will happen to them. Even if walkers don't get them something probably will, a coyote, a fox, a skunk or some other predator.
Those are the thoughts going through her head when they hear the telltale growling. Daryl pulls an arrow, Beth has her knife up, and then they see the young female walker come walking out of the trees. They know right away, she has to be the farmer's teenage daughter. She has a half-eaten chicken in her hand and she's coming right for Beth. Beth just stands there, frozen.
Daryl doesn't hesitate, his arrow hits the young walker dead center in the forehead.
Beth is so shook and tears are falling and he's not sure what he's supposed to do or say. He wraps an arm across her shoulders and tells her, "It's alright," she buries her face in his chest and it surprises him how good it feels to comfort her. He gets that she needs to get all this stuff out. He's more of one to punch the wall, she's one to have a good cry.
Beth reluctantly pulls away from the embrace, and he says. "I'll lay her with her Mom and Dad."
Sitting outside by the barn and plucking chicken feathers she apologizes, "I'm sorry I just froze like that. I knew what I had to do and I just, I don't know why, I couldn't."
He doesn't realize there's a level of romance in his response, "Hey girl, that's why we got each other. You cover my ass and I cover yours."
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He begins the shooting lessons with the pistol, at the kitchen table. He shows her the parts of the gun, he talks about safety and how to load and clean the gun, and he tells her, "Ya know how in the movies and TV shows a guy will just hold up his gun, shoot and boom, he hits the other guy right in the heart or the head, without even tryin'? That don't happen much in real life. People probably hit more shit by accident than they do on purpose. Anyway, ya ready ta give this a try?"
She admits, "I've always been a little afraid of handguns, but I see the need now and I'm ready."
He shrugs, "It's smart ta be afraid, the damn things kill people."
They don't walk too far, they stay within 25 yards of the van and the farmhouse. A fast escape is always front of mind for them. If a group of walkers, or a group of the living with a bad agenda shows up they want to be able to get to the van and get the hell out of there in a hurry.
For now they're both just enjoying being out on this beautiful day and focusing on a skill. As he hands her the gun Daryl shrugs, "I could probably use some more practice myself. It ain't like I went around shootin' guns every day before the fall."
"The fall?"
"Ain't that what they called it in some book somewhere, the fall of civilization. Not that people was ever that civilized ta begin with."
"Are you about to get philosophical Daryl?"
He's not even sure he knows exactly what that means, "I don't think so. Let's shoot shit up."
He walks to the fence and lines up a few pop bottles and a couple of old coffee cans he found in the barn.
He shows her how to grip the gun and says, "Now just keep pointin' it down til I tell ya ta bring it up, k?" That's when he walks behind her and she can feel the warmth of his body, "Okay now, stiff arm it, yeah, that's right, hold it right up in front of ya."
As he reaches around to clasp her hand he feels her soft curls on his cheek, and her hand is so smooth and delicate. He closes his eyes, trying to clear his mind and concentrate on what he's supposed to be doing, but her sweet fragrance and the feel of her small body next to his are too distracting. He steps to the side.
She's disappointed when he moves, she hadn't realized shooting a gun could feel so intimate.
"You can grip it two-handed if ya want, just keep them arms straight out. Remember what I told ya about the iron sites, they'll help ya aim so you can hit your target. When ya ain't got sites, ya just look down the barrel. Ya ready ta give it a try?"
"Is it going to kick?"
"Yeah, a little, not as bad as a rifle, but you're gonna feel a little kick. Just keep your grip n try real hard not ta just pull the trigger, it's more like a gentle squeeze. You'll have a better chance of hittin' sumthin' and it won't kick as bad."
She's so nervous, why? She's not sure. She's never cared for the noise of a gun or all that guns seem to symbolize, but she reminds herself that was before. In this world a gun could very well be the only thing between her and certain death.
Beth takes aim at the second bottle from the left, draws in a deep breath in an effort to calm her nerves, and does her best to gently squeeze the trigger rather than pull. Boom! Acting on their own, her arms jerk upward, but not too bad. She maintains her grip and her stance and she's relieved the kick didn't hurt. For some reason she was so sure it would.
The bottle does fall, but not because her bullet hit it. It was jarred lose when the bullet hit the fence. Still, Daryl's all smiles, "That was a good. Sometimes close is all it takes. Let's keep practicin'."
They keep going for the next half hour or so, he takes a few shots himself, and once or twice Beth hits exactly where she's aiming, "You're gettin' better n better girl. It's like anythin' else, ya just gotta keep doin' it."
"It's a good thing you found all that ammunition."
He smiles, "Yeah, we can kill a lot of bottles. But right now, I'm hungry, you hungry?"
"Gosh yes, let's go fry a couple of chickens!"
He helps with what he can, cutting the bird up and rinsing and drying, but he's never fried a chicken and he plans to leave that part to her. Watching her now as she seasons the little pile of flour with salt and pepper she looks like she's done this a million times, she probably has.
"Ya know, with that generator runnin' the fridge is on. I think I'll bring one a them big trash barrels in n dump out what's in it, then hurry n get it the hell outta here. If we have a fridge, we can keep our leftovers and that means I'll be havin' fried chicken with my eggs for breakfast."
She smiles, "Good idea!" And laughs when he reaches in his back pocket, pulls out his bandana and ties it around his face like he's about to rob a bank. She never saw anyone move any faster than Daryl when he dumps the contents of the refrigerator.
That shit is liable to attract raccoons and coyotes and God only knows what else. He drags the barrel all the way out to where the bodies are.
She's all smiles when he gets back, the refrigerator door is wide open, and there's a gallon jug of vinegar on the table. "If you wipe the inside down with that, it will help get rid of the smell."
"More work huh? Will there be gravy with that chicken?"
"Yes. There's also a crock full of potatoes in the pantry, if you peel some there will be mashed potatoes to go with the gravy."
"Damn girl, ya know how ta get what ya want, don't ya?"
She smiles softly and whispers, "Mashed potatoes and gravy."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it."
They're enjoying the fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy and succotash from the pantry, when suddenly she gets emotional. He doesn't understand, "What girl? Beth, what happened?"
She's a positive person, she has faith, but she's suddenly so blue, "I'm not sure Daryl. It's just that…this all seems so perfect and I should just be enjoying it, but all I keep thinking is we'll never have it this good again."
He doesn't think of himself as a man with a positive attitude, shit, no one would accuse him of being all sunshine and roses, but he lays his hand on hers and the words just come, "Maybe it won't ever be like this again, but that don't mean it won't be as good. It'll just be different. Who knows, maybe you n me can make it better."
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A/N We covered a lot of ground, and it seems their friendship has grown. I hope you'll leave a comment. The chapter photo is on my tumblr blogs, gneebee and bethylmethbrick, please have a look. I'll be back next Thursday with more of Love's Long Road. Until then remember, I love ya large! xo gneebee