During dinner, Sophia chatters on about the piglets. "Don't get too attached," Daryl warns her.
"That's what I told her," Carol agrees.
"Those piglets are gonna be breakfast one day."
Sophia winces at her plate of food. "Why can't we just eat deer? Deer aren't cute."
"Baby ones are," Daryl says. "And grown ass pigs are ugly. Filthy creatures. They'll eat anything. Even thrashers."
"No one's feeding the pigs thrashers, I hope," Carol says in disgust.
"Merle thought about it," Daryl tells her. "There was this prison camp. They captured Garrison when he was on a supply run. Demanded a ransom or they were gonna kill him. So we paid the bounty in pigs. Jefe was pissed. Merle wanted to feed those pigs thrashers, as a big fuck you to that camp." Daryl puts up his middle finger and Sophia smiles. "But DeShawn was afraid everyone in the camp might get sick and die. Merle said an eye for an eye. DeShawn said – that's more like an entire body for an eye. Jefe went along with DeShawn. So we lost half our pigs, we got Garrison back, and now we just avoid that camp."
Carol cuts off a piece of her baked potato. "Was it the West Georgia Correctional Facility?"
Daryl lowers his fork and looks at her in surprise. "How'd you know?"
"I saw Jefe's map with the numbers. She labeled it as having bad men."
Daryl shrugs. "Suppose that's a matter of perspective."
"You just said they kidnapped Garrison," Carol says. "And threatened to kill him."
"They were out of food. Been living off the canned stuff in the cafeteria, but it was all gone. They were trying to plant gardens, but nothing was near growing yet. They didn't have any good hunters. And they were hungry. They did what they had to do to survive. Ain't like they tried to – " He looks at Sophia and stops mid-sentence.
They didn't try to rape a little girl, Carol thinks. "Looks like you're done, sweetie," she tells Sophia. "Why don't you clear your plate and go see if Ivan wants to play chess."
When Sophia clears out, Daryl mutters, "Sorry. Wasn't proper dinner table conversation, was it?"
"I just don't think she needs to be reminded of that." Carol clears both their empty plates. She doesn't wash them right away, though. She returns to the table where Daryl is fishing out his pack of cigarettes. "And what about Woodbury?" she asks.
"What about it?"
"Do you think it has bad men, or just people doing what they have to do to survive?"
"Bit of both, I reckon," he answers as he slips his cigarette between his lips. "Leader's a fucking nutjob though. Kept his thrasher daughter alive and locked in a closet. Took her out to brush her hair."
Carol grimaces. "How do you know all that?"
"'Cause that was my first camp. Me and Merle's." Daryl removes the cigarette from his mouth and holds it between his fingers as he leans with his arms on the table. "Found it about two months after this shit started. Settled in for a month. Merle was in their army."
"Army?"
"Big camp. Town really. More people than here even. The army was rough men. Merle fit right in. He was on his way to being the Governor's right-hand man. But then I walked in on the Guv doing that shit…shot a bolt right through his thrasher daughter's head. After that, he called me a murderer. For punishment, he was gonna make me and Merle fight to the death."
"What?" Carol exclaims.
"Bread and circuses, Michonne called it. He had this fighting ring to entertain the town. Blood sport. Never was a fight to the death before, though. Just a little bruising, maybe."
"Who's Michonne?"
"This woman who lived there with her son Andre. Her baby daddy got high and almost let her boy get ate up. She was out on a run. Ran into Merle, didn't like the looks of 'em, tried skirting 'em. But he followed her back to her camp, got there in the midst of the shit storm, and helped rescue the boy from a pack. The boyfriend and his friend got bit. Anyhow, 'Chonne left them there to die, came back to Woodbury with Merle. She was uneasy about the place though. Was planning to leave. Don't know if she ever did."
"So what happened?" Carol asks. "How'd you get out?"
"Me and Merle put on a show for a bit," he explains. "Then we punched our way out the ring. Grabbed a couple guns from the guards making us fight. Shot three men who tried to take us down. Got in one of their armored vehicles—" He points with his cigarette toward the back of the cottage. "That one you saw up near the mansion when you first got here. Then we plowed straight through the front gate, busted it open, got the fuck out of town, covered our tracks, and never looked back. We found Copper Creek a month later. Jefe put that X on that map 'cause of what we told 'er. I don't even know if Woodbury is still standing, but if it is, Jefe ain't fucking with that army. She believes in avoidance. Says the reason we're still standing and most other camps aren't is that we don't court trouble."
"So it was a big deal she authorized that raid on the men who killed Merle?"
"Yeah. When I told her what they almost did to Sophia, though, that cinched it for her. But I think she wanted vengeance for Merle, too. She'd never lost a man to bandits before. Lost one to disease a few months back. And lost a bunch to thrashers the first month or two, securing this place. Never lost one to men though."
"So you've been here at Copper Creek Pastures a about a year now?" Carol asks.
He nods. "I ain't quite original. But I'm pre-sponsorship." He slides his cigarette back between his lips and stands. "Going for a smoke."
That, she supposes, means he's going to see Dr. Eastman for his counseling session and won't be back until after dark. "Have a good staff lesson," she tells him as he slips out the door.
[*]
The next morning, Daryl's gone before Carol rises. Today she's on pike cleaning shift, though, so she keeps busy. She gets to work with "the college boys" again. That's what she likes to call Zach and Noah, because both are from out-of-state and were attending Atlanta colleges at the time of the collapse, Noah at Morehouse and Zach at Emory.
"Sometimes I think of going back to Richmond to check on my family," Noah says while they clean, "but maybe it's better just imagining they're still alive. You ever think of going back, Zach? To Ohio?"
"Indiana," Zach corrects him.
"Whatever."
"Sometimes. I mean, it was nearly all corn where my folks lived. They might have survived."
Noah smirks. "So that's why you're so good at shucking."
"It's one of my many farm boy talents. That and tipping cows."
[*]
Later that afternoon, when school is out and Sophia is busy with friends, Carol goes to the mansion. Arthur lets her in, and she claims she's going to the library to return a book, but she has another purpose in mind. After she drops Denim Dreams and picks up a biography of Eleanor Roosevelt, she snoops around until she finds the indoor gym.
The doorway is open, and Dr. Eastman is there sparring with a man she has spoken to only briefly, Morgan. He works as a welder and guard, and he has a boy named Duane who is a year younger than Sophia. When Morgan spies her, he's distracted, and Dr. Eastman knocks his staff completely from his hands.
Dr. Eastman follows Morgan's gaze to the doorway where Carol stands. He says something to Morgan, who nods, scoops up his staff, and goes to the water cooler at the far end of the gym. Meanwhile, Dr. Eastman, holding his staff like a walking stick, strolls across the tan vinyl floor to the open door. "Carol, is it?" he asks.
"Yes, I don't believe we've officially met." She extends her hand. "Carol Doyle."
"Fred Eastman," he replies and shakes.
"I'm told you used to be a forensic psychiatrist?"
"I was," he replies, "in times past."
"What does that mean, exactly? A forensic psychiatrist?"
"It means I worked with a lot of hardened criminals."
"And how does that translate to general counseling?"
"In this world?" he replies. "Unfortunately, very well. Everyone's a little hardened now, and nearly everyone's done something that would have been considered criminal in the Old World." He lowers his head confidentially, eyes up to meet hers. "Were you looking for some counseling?"
"Family counseling, maybe?" she asks. "With my daughter Sophia. We've been through some things, and not just since the world ended. We've never really talked about it with each other, and there are some things I need to say to her." Like how sorry she is for not standing up to Ed sooner. "Things I'm not quite sure how to say."
"Well, I can certainly get you on my calendar."
"What would you take in payment?" Maybe she can pocket an egg to give him or collect some walnuts from the ground.
Dr. Eastman laughs. "There's no charge. I'm a one hundred percenter, so I work full-time for the community. This is what I do. I teach staff, I help tend the goats, and I counsel anyone who asks."
Carol's a bit surprised that Jefe has agreed to keep a man in rations in exchange for such work, but perhaps she shouldn't be. It's a smart move to keep your community as mentally stable as possible, and Jefe is a smart woman. "You're the house psychiatrist then?"
He smiles. "I guess you could say that."
"So you've been here since…"
"Late last November. Just before Jefe enacted the sponsorship system, so I got in under the old system. DeShawn found my cabin in the woods. He brought me, Morgan, Duane, and Tabitha back here."
"Tabitha?" Carol hasn't met a woman named Tabitha. "Is she your wife?" She can't be Morgan's. Sophia said Duane didn't have a living mother.
Dr. Eastman laughs. "No. She's my goat."
Morgan is strolling in their direction again, and Carol says hello to him once he reaches the doorway. Discretely, Dr. Eastman tells her, "I'll be in touch."
[*]
That evening, Daryl charges into the cabin while Carol's cooking, goes to wash his dirty hands in the bathroom, and then, bow still on his back, seizes his rifle from his bedroom closet before striding back to the front door again.
"You're not staying for dinner?" she calls as he opens it.
"No time. Guard duty. Eat at midnight when I get back."
Midnight? Carol thinks. His dinner won't keep unless she lets it cool and then puts it in the root cellar, and then it'll be cold. So later that evening, after she and Sophia have eaten, she brings Daryl a tin-foil covered plate on watch. It's not easy climbing the rope ladder one-handed while balancing it. He leans down and grabs it from her upstretched hand when she's halfway up the ladder, and then he stands back for her to climb up onto the small platform with him.
"I figured if I don't bring you something, you won't eat at all."
"Can't eat and watch," he says.
"Then I'll watch while you eat."
He doesn't argue. He hands her his rifle and whips the tinfoil off the plate and begins eating with his hands.
"I brought a fork," she assures him as she reaches for it in her back pocket, but he says, "Don't need it."
Carol lets the matter go and raises the rifle to look through the scope. She can see Copper Creek half a mile away, the stone bridge spanning it, and the dirt road stretching straight for another long bit before disappearing between the trees. "Other than thrashers, what am I watching for?"
"Unwelcome visitors." Daryl tosses a piece of meat into his mouth.
"Do you ever have welcome ones?"
"Sometimes people find us," he answers between bites. "Pull up to the gates. Ain't welcomed right way, butsome people have come in that way. Me and Merle for starters. Took Jefe awhile to warm to us."
"She told me she pointed Merle's own gun at him."
Daryl snorts. "Yeah, that was quite the meeting. Couldn't tell if Merle was pissed off or turned on by it." He licks some food off his thumb with a smack.
"It must get boring up here," Carol says as she scans the quiet scene. She sees a bird dive through the air, float along the stream, and settle on a rock.
"That's why shifts are only three and a half hours. Jefe says no one will concentrate longer 'n that."
"I don't know how you even concentrate that long."
He shrugs. "I don't know. It's kind of Zen up here."
Smiling, she turns back from the view. "Zen?"
"Yeah, Zen. What's so funny 'bout it?"
"Nothing. You just surprise me sometimes, that's all." She looks forward again.
"That a bad thing?" he asks.
"It's a good thing." She turns again when she hears him sucking clean his fingers one by one.
When he slides the last finger out of his mouth with a pop, he says, "That was fucking fantastic. Thanks." And then he extends the plate back to her.
She wasn't expecting him to be done so soon. He doesn't usually eat quite that fast at home. Reluctantly, she lowers the gun, holds it upright, and takes the outstretched plate from his hand. He takes the gun from hers.
"You get much shooting practice up here?" she asks.
"Nah. One, two thrashers at night at most. Pike lines thin 'em out good on three sides, and the creek slows 'em in front. But sometimes they stumble 'cross the bridge or go the long ways round to where the bank is low enough." He nods to the plate in her hand. "Thanks again for the grub. But I really oughtta get back to watching. Ain't s'posed to socialize up here."
"I guess I'll just go down then."
He laughs. It's a quick, sharp puff of air that he swallows, and then his smile falters and he looks uneasy. She's not sure if he's embarrassed by where his mind went just now or worried about her reaction after she exploded at his Denim Dreams ribbing yesterday.
She offers him a smile to let him know she's not offended. "I guess Jefe probably wouldn't allow that either," she teases. "Unless she was the one doing it."
He narrows his eyes at her. "What?"
"I just…I get the impression she finds you attractive," Carol says.
He makes a nondescript hrmpf sound and turns away to scan the land beyond the rail.
"Well, you enjoy your zen time," she tells him before heading down and back to the cottage, but she can't help smiling like a schoolgirl every time she thinks of her unintended joke.
