Daryl and Carol rolled into Fun Kingdom in the early evening. When Shane swung wide the front gate for them, and he saw the SUV packed to the windows and the half-full bed of the pick-up, he asked, "Is that U-haul full, too?"
"Goddamn right it is," Daryl told him.
"I will never question your supply run decisions again."
"Yeah, right," Daryl muttered.
By the time everything was unloaded in the storehouse, it was dinner time.
Shane popped the cork from an expensive bottle of Cabernet from Richie Rich's wine cellar and began walking around the dining room table filling glasses with about three ounces of wine, from Andrea to T-Dog to Carol to Glenn to Rick to Michonne. He skipped Lori and then poured three ounces in his own glass, which left about three in the bottle.
"Who's getting that last bit?" T-Dog asked.
"How about me?" Lori asked. She drained the water that was in her wine glass and then pushed it toward Shane's seat at the head of the table.
"You're pregnant," Shane reminded her.
"Three ounces one time in the second trimester in celebration of this amazing haul isn't going to give it fetal alcohol syndrome," Lori assured him.
"I read in that What to Expect When You're Expecting book that no amount of alcohol is safe," Shane insisted.
Rick glared at him. "It's not your job to be reading that book."
"Well, it's good that someone's reading it," Shane returned.
"If Lori wants some wine, give her some damn wine," Rick said coolly.
Carl looked anxiously from his father to Shane and back to his father. "Dad, maybe Mom really shouldn't, if the book said – "
"- It's fine," Rick interrupted him. "They do it all the time in Europe. Don't let Shane tell you what should and should not be done. If your mother wants a little bit of wine, Shane can pour her a little."
Michonne stood up from her chair, walked over to Shane, seized the bottle, and swigged. She slammed the bottle with a clink back down on the table. "There, argument settled. Sorry, Lori."
Then she went and sat back down. Shane shook his head and smiled at her. Rick gave Michonne a stunned look, and Lori gave her a wary one.
"A toast!" T-Dog boomed, raising his glass and deflecting the tension. "To Carol and Daryl, for the exceptional haul!"
"Here! Here!" Glenn said and raised his glass.
Daryl glanced at Carol with surprise. "You've never been toasted before, have you?" she asked with a smile as she picked up her glass.
Once the toast was made and eating had commenced, Carol told the group about the boy they'd run into.
"How bad can he be, if he's got a pet dog?" Glenn asked.
"Fuck's that got to do with anything?" Daryl replied.
"Do you think he's dangerous?" Rick asked him.
"Dunno. Didn't try to kill us, but that might of only been 'cause we was armed. He sure did steal from us. And he was armed. Had a handgun on him. And if he didn't have ammo before, he's got five hundred rounds now. Who knows where his camp is or who's in it. Could be with them ones 'Chonne killed. Could be with that Dave and Tony and Randall gang. We just don't know."
"Well, let's all be extra vigilant," Rick said. "And you might want to tell Maggie when you go to trade tomorrow to be the same, Glenn."
"I'm going to trade tomorrow?" Glenn asked excitedly.
"Well, we've got all this loot and thirty-five extra gallons of gas now," Rick replied. "On top of the twenty-nine gallons we already have in storage. I think a trade trip can be approved."
"And who put you in charge of approving trade trips?" Shane asked.
"You have an objection?" Rick shot back. "To Glenn going tomorrow?"
Shane shook his head. "No. No objection, deputy." He stabbed fiercely at a piece of fish on his plate.
"T-Dog, you go with him," Rick said. "No one alone out there."
"Well, I'm goin' huntin' tomorrow," Daryl told him, "and I ain't takin' company. And that ain't up for discussion."
No one tried to discuss it.
As dinner was finishing up, Daryl ordered Glenn, "Walk with me."
"Uh…why?"
"'Cause I said so!"
Glenn scurried out of the dinning room chair and followed him out of the house. Daryl walked him toward where he had parked his pick-up outside the converted storehouse.
"I do something to piss you off?" Glenn asked.
Daryl jerked open the passenger side door of his truck, reached in, and opened the glove compartment. There were no cassette tapes inside anymore – he'd moved them. He pulled out a box of condoms and handed them to Glenn.
Glenn laughed excitedly. "Thanks!" He looked at the box. "And thanks for not getting me extra small."
Daryl shut the door again.
"No one knows, okay," Glenn told him. "Maggie doesn't want her dad to know. He can be…I don't know. Like dads can be."
"Mhmhm," Daryl murmured. "Treat 'er right. Don't fuck up this sweet trade deal we got goin', a'ight?"
"The trade deal is not the sweet deal I'm worried about fucking up," Glenn confessed. "I don't even know why she's with me. She's way out of my league."
"How so?"
Glenn looked confused. "Well, I mean, it's obvious, right?"
"Obvious you can kill walkers. Obvious you can get supplies. Obvious you can fix up a car. Obvious you can save someone's ass like you did Rick's. And obvious she's enjoyin' herself if she keeps comin' back for more, ain't it?"
"Yeah." Glenn said. He nodded and smiled. "Hey, yeah! You're right. Hey, maybe I'm out of her league." All Daryl had to do was look at Glenn for him to reconsider those words. "Yeah, no. No. That's taking it a bit too far, I suppose."
"A bit," Daryl agreed.
Glenn held up the box of condoms and shook it. "Thanks again."
[*]
Daryl stopped sharpening his bolt when Carol walked in his room. He lay his sharpening stone on the end table but continued to fiddle with the bolt. "Hey."
"Hey yourself." She came and sat down on the bed opposite him, but she hadn't shut the door. "I can't stay long. Sophia missed me. She was worried we weren't back earlier in the afternoon. So, I'm committed to reading aloud with her tonight."
"Ain't she a little old to be read to?" Not that his mother had ever read to him that he could recall. Maybe when he was really little.
"She likes to take turns reading this novel we've been working through together. You know the entire family used to read around the fireplace every night in the 1800s."
"Nah. 'S…nice. You're a good mama."
"I did want to pop in, though, and say what a good time I had with you. A really good time."
The left side of his mouth curled. "Me, too."
She took in a heavy breath. "And also to say I really don't think you should go hunting alone tomorrow. You got shot the last time."
"Yeah, well, then what are the odds it'll happen again?"
"Low," she admitted. "But it worries me. Especially with that boy out there."
"Thought you said we oughtta let him go and he wasn't violent. I coulda shot out those tires, given 'em a flat! First time, anyhow. You could of shot 'em out the second." She'd had her handgun out by the time Daryl got out the door and the truck was peeling off. She probably could have managed it.
"If we'd done that, he'd have thought we were going to kill him and started firing back. And I don't think he is violent. I think he was just trying to survive and didn't want me to shoot him. But all your talk about who he might be in with…well, it's got me nervous. Because you could be right and my instinct about him could be wrong. And whether or not he's in with either of those gangs, they may still be out there. Which is why I don't want you hunting alone."
"Didn't even hunt with Merle usually. I hunt alone. 'S what I do. What I've always done. Other people'd just be in my way. And…I need it. The time. Alone."
"I see," she replied. "Too much together time with me lately?"
"Nah, no, ain't what I mean. Don't mean you. Just mean…people. In general. Just mean - "
"- You're an introvert and you have to recharge your batteries all alone in the woods for a couple of days."
"Yeah."
She sighed. Then she nodded. "Okay. Take the walkie talkie? Check in? Try not to get out of range this time?"
"Will do," he promised.
She came over to the bed and put a hand on his wrist. "Sophia doesn't want to know your middle name. She wants to keep guessing. And she missed you, too, while we were gone."
"She did?"
"Can you come on over and let her have three guesses? And say goodnight?"
"Yeah. Sure." Daryl lay his bolt aside and followed Carol to the bedroom she shared with her daughter.
Sophia's guesses were all wrong, but she got Daryl to tell her a little about their adventures, and then she hugged him goodnight. He was a little less awkward this time in hugging her back.
Carol kissed him on the cheek before he left, saying, "Goodnight, Daryl."
"Nite, Miss Murphy."
As he was walking back down the hall, he heard Sophia ask, "Who's Miss Murphy?"
"I am," Carol told her. "Your mother is Miss Murphy. It's my maiden name."
"Then I want to be Sophia Murphy."
Daryl smiled as he turned the corner in the hall.
Sunday, November 8
Daryl was gone before Carol arose. She checked the chore chart to remind herself of her duties for the day: laundry and night watch. She would need to take a long afternoon nap.
As Carol did laundry in the creek with Andrea that morning, Andrea asked, "How was the romantic getaway? I mean, obviously successful on the looting end. But how about the rest of it?"
Carol smiled as she ran Daryl's favorite charcoal gray shirt over the washing board. "It didn't go quite as planned, but, in some ways, it went better than planned."
"Well, you've seemed very happy since you got back."
They were sitting side by side on two large rocks in the middle of the "River Thames" creek. Only their feet were in the creek, but both were wearing rainboots – the kind you can pull over your shoes – courtesy of one of the Fun Kingdom clothing shops. The water was cold.
"I am happy," Carol told her. She waded out of the water, clipped Daryl's shirt to the line, and then waded back to begin washing a pair of his pants. He only had two pair of pants he was willing to wear during the daytime. He was very particular about his pants. They had to be broken in. And they had to have sufficient pocket space. "And how are things going with T-Dog?"
"He's fun. And he's a good man. He has a great heart." Andrea sighed. "But I wish Shane could have gotten his shit together and stop being so hung up on Lori."
"Oh? And does that mean you're still hung up on Shane?" Poor T-Dog, Carol thought, to be a concession prize.
"Let's just say I probably wouldn't have dumped his ass if I had thought he was completely over her," Andrea replied. "Shane's hot in bed, Carol. I mean...damn. T-Dog's not bad, but he's just too nice. You know what I mean."
"Do I?"
"Well, I mean, you're with Daryl."
Andrea would probably be shocked if she knew just how nice Daryl had been in bed the night before last, how deperately tender and reassuring he'd been when she fell completely apart. Poor T-Dog, she thought, to be Andrea's consolation prize. "Nice can be really nice sometimes," she told Andrea. "And I think Shane's more like Ed than he is like Daryl."
"What?" Andrea spat. "No offense, Carol, but your late husband was a complete asshole."
Carol nodded. "I didn't mean to imply Shane was the same type of man as Ed. Shane's a hundred times more competent than Ed ever was, and I doubt Shane's ever hit a woman. It's just that there's something in their temperments that strikes me as similar. Daryl...Daryl can be grouchy, sure. And he can be hotheaded sometimes. But overall, he's realy thoughtful, Andrea. And he's just more...zen."
Andrea laughed. "Zen? Daryl? Okay, if you say so."
"So…we're not even pretending not to know abut Shane and Lori anymore?" Carol asked.
"Only around Rick and Lori," Andrea answered. "In other news - I think Glenn and Maggie are fucking."
Carol laughed. "What?"
"T-Dog says I'm crazy, that she's way out of his league. But you know, Glenn's a sweet guy. They're about the same age. There's not a lot of men left in this world. I think it could be happening."
"Well, good for Glenn."
[*]
After laundry, Carol went to check the traps she'd made with Daryl. There was nothing snared. She climbed through the train on her way back and entered the train depot. She was about to round the wall and walk out through the open doorway when she heard voices arguing on the other side. In order to avoid interrupting, she sat down on the waiting bench.
"You have to stop," Lori was saying. "It isn't your job to supervise this pregnancy, and you're making things tense between me and Rick."
"You and I both know that baby is mine. To say I don't have any concern in the matter – "
"- The baby is Rick's. That's just the way it is, Shane. That's the way it has to be."
"Why? Why does it have to be like that?"
"Because of Carl!" Lori shouted. "And because Rick and I have been together for seventeen years! Because he was my first, and I was his first. We've been together since high school!"
"You two don't have to stay together. You bicker all the time – "
"- Not all the time," Lori insisted. "No more than a typical couple."
"Your marriage was on the rocks before the world came to a screeching halt. I know it, and you know it. Rick talked to me about it. Hell, you talked to me about it. You said he was detached."
"That was then."
"He can't protect you and the baby in this world the way I can," Shane hissed. "He's too soft. Too…moral."
"Too moral? You're telling me my husband is too moral? And you're not? And that's supposed to be a selling point? You should have stuck with Andrea, Shane. She liked you."
"You don't see the way he looks at Michonne?" Shane asked. "The way he flirts with her?"
"Rick would never cheat on me. Never. Whatever our problems, he would never do that. He's too moral, remember?"
"But you've seen it. Seen them. The way they interact."
Lori sighed. "Flirting with Michonne strokes his ego, and that's why he does it. But it's harmless."
"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."
"Rick knows. He hasn't said he knows, but I know he knows about us, about what we did, and he's decided to ignore what happened and step up as the father to this child. But he's hurt. Hurt that I would move on that quickly when I thought he was dead, and probably suspicious it started before he was in the coma."
"Well, it did, didn't it?" Shane asked.
"No, it didn't."
"The sex didn't start, but it started. Don't tell me you weren't sending signals at Bowman's retirement party. Stepping outside with me for fresh air. All that arm touching."
"Shane, you have to stop. You and I are not happening. Whether or not Rick and I work out."
"What?" Shane's voice dropped and had a hollow, stunned sound to it.
"You heard me. I don't want you, Shane. Even if my marriage were to fall apart, even if Rick were to cheat on me, even if he left me for Michonne, even if we divorced – I don't want you."
"You don't mean that."
"Have you forgotten what happened at the CDC? You think I want a man like that as my lover and the father to my child? A man who's not too moral?"
"I don't know what you think happened at the CDC – "
"- You know exactly what happened at the CDC."
"That wasn't me," Shane insisted. "Come on, tension were high, we'd just lost our whole camp, I was upset because you weren't admitting how you felt…that wasn't me."
"I think it was my first glimpse into who you really are. This ends here. Now. Today. All of it. Your hope that we're ever getting together. Your passive aggressive dance with Rick. Your interference in our marriage. Your coaching of my pregnancy. It ends today."
Carol could hear Lori's footsteps as she stormed off. The wood wall rattled as Shane slammed his fist hard and angrily against it from the outside, and Carol stood up abruplty from the bench. That blow had been awfully close to the back of her head. He'd hit the wall hard enough his fist might have come through if the wood were just a shade thinner.
Carol waited as she listened to Shane's much harder footsteps trailing off in the opposite direction of Lori. And then she waited another five minutes before emerging.
[*]
At the top of the Kingdom Tower Slides, an oil lamp glowed on the rim of the wooden balcony. Carol unscrewed the cap of the little bottle of Five-Hour Energy – she was glad Daryl had snagged these now – and downed it. She picked up her rifle, which was leaned against the rail, and surveyed the entire park – as far as she could see anyway – through the night vision scope. It was only nine p.m. She had a long night ahead of her.
Her walkie talkie crackled: "Hey, Miss Murphy. Come in. Over."
She shouldered her rifle and picked it up. "It's about time. I was getting worried. Over."
"Checked-in earlier, but you didn't answer. Over."
"I might have been napping to prep for night watch. Over."
He told her he had made camp, set up his perimeter, and would pick up the trail at sunrise. He hadn't shot the deer yet, but he was sure it was near. "Can tell from the weight of the prints, it's gonna be a 16-pointer at least. Over."
"And what's that mean?" Carol asked. "Over."
"16 pointer? Means 16 points. Each tine on the antler, including the brow tine. That's the eastern county anyhow. Western count don't count the eye guards. Over."
"I have no idea what any of that means. Over."
"Means I'm gonna get a big one. Means it'll yield eighty pounds of meat or so. Over."
"I'm going to have to rearrange the freezer to make room for that. Over."
"I better get some Zs. And you got to pay attention up there. Nite, Miss Murphy. Over."
"Goodnight, Daryl. I love you." And so he wouldn't feel obligated to say it back tonight, because he had been bold enough to say it first, she concluded, "Over and out."
Monday, November 9
Carol yawned large and grabbed one of the burlap sacks as the first rays of the sun began to paint patterns on the giant plastic slides. She shouldered her rifle and lay the sack at the top of the blue slide. She was about to sit down to ride down when her walkie talkie crackled. "Mornin', Miss Murphy. Just callin' to say I'm still alive. Over."
She smiled and unclipped the walkie talkie. "I'm headed down the slide and then to bed." There was no watch during the day because everyone was up, about, and armed, but there was perimeter check. She was pretty sure Andrea had that duty today. "When I wake up, I expect to see a sixteen-pointer on the butcher's table. Over."
"I'll make it happen," Daryl promised. "I love you. Over and out."
He'd said it again, and not even in a desperate moment. He'd said it over the walkie talkie. Carol smiled as she clipped the walkie onto her belt. She settled down on the burlap sack, and scootched forward just a little, until she was flying down the slide, wind in her hair.
When she got back to the House of the Future, no one was yet stirring. Except the coffee pot was on, which was odd, and it was only half full of coffee, so someone must be awake. A piece of white, college-ruled notebook paper lay beside it, with blue ballpoint ink scrawled over the lines. Carol made her way over and picked up the paper.
Dear Lori,
I thought about what you said, and you're right. This has to stop.
I'm nothing but a third wheel here to two different relationships now.
There's a whole world out there. Maybe someone is still working on securing and rebuilding the country, maybe in some underground bunker in Washington, D.C. Or maybe the military or the police or some other authority has secured an entire city against this plague somewhere. And maybe, unlike you, they need men like me. I guess I'll find out.
I took the park work truck, which already had half a tank, and five extra gallons of gas from the warehouse, a quart of oil, my shotgun, rifle, and handgun, and about 500 rounds of ammunition. It's what I'd be allotted for practice over the next couple of months anyway. I also took about three weeks' worth of food for myself, but I'd have eaten that if I stayed anyway.
I'm leaving right when Carol gets off watch, about when she'll be going down that slide, and I'll drive behind it so she doesn't see. One of you will need to go lock the gate, because I can't lock it from the outside after I go through.
I hope you're right about Rick. I hope he can protect you and Carl and the baby for years to come. And I hope that baby grows up strong and brave.
Tell Carl I love him, and tell him I'm sorry I couldn't stick around to keep training him in firearms.
- Shane