June 19
6:35 AM
In Mr. Harrison's kitchen, Carol turned the handle of a manual grinder to crush some coffee beans after plugging the electric kettle into and outlet on the jump starter power station pack. Shirewilt had looted twenty of these power packs from an auto store, not to jump start their cars – for which they had only spoiled gas due to their lack of fuel stabilizer – but to run small appliances. There was a single house, belonging to a man named Tom, that had solar panels on the roof. It had been attached to the now-downed grid, and so there was no storage of the excess power generated during the day, and no power in that house at night or on rainy days, but he recharged all the jump starter packs and other rechargeable batteries for the community.
Batteries were the kicker, Carol thought. They would all die eventually, within the next five to seven years, no matter how well stored, and not a one would hold a charge. And who among them could build a battery? It required lithium that could not be easily mined. They were all just buying time when it came to power. One day their would go as dark as the 18th century.
The front door opened and Gavin, looking exhausted, came staggering into the living room. Someone must have insisted on relieving him on watch. Carol didn't bother to ask if there had been any sign of Dianne. She could see from his face that there hadn't been as he stumbled to the couch, leaned his rifle against the arm, stripped his holstered handgun from his belt, and set it down on the coffee table. He threw himself on the couch. He fell asleep there, on his stomach, cheek to the cushion, with one foot on the floor.
As quietly as possible, Carol finished up her coffee making, filled two cups, and took them out back, where the sun was just beginning to rise. She had to set one cup down on the kitchen table to open the glass door, and another down on the outdoor table to close it. She walked over the cement porch and across the overgrown grass to the porch swing hung between two closely grown trees, where Daryl sat fiddling with his bow. Carol never had any idea what he was doing with that thing—tightening strings? Sometimes she suspected he wasn't doing anything at all.
Daryl set his bow on the ground and took the mug of coffee she extended him. "Thanks," he murmured as she settled beside him on the swing. He took a sip and winced.
"Not good?" she asked.
"Just a little musty. Still drinkable though." He took another sip.
"Coffee beans are starting to go stale. Everything is. Except us." She bumped him playfully with her shoulder.
"You getting fresh with me, Miss Murphy?"
Carol groaned. "That's such a dad joke pun."
"Well I am one now, ain't I? A dad." He sighed and his breath sent ripples over the surface of the coffee. "Hope Soph is doing a'right."
"Just you wait. We'll come back and she'll have learned to jump horses over fences and shoot a machine gun."
"Probably already knows how to shoot a machine gun. Ain't that different than shootin' a rifle." He smiled proudly. "But she is learnin' somethin' new everyday."
"She's going to be spades ahead of me in maturity by the time she's sixteen."
"You seem pretty mature to me."
"I mean spades more mature than I was at sixteen. Not than I am now." Carol pushed off the ground with her foot and the swing swayed gently while they sipped in silence for a moment.
"Hey, listen." Daryl lowered his coffee cup to his knee. "Battle ain't for a couple more days. If Dianne don't show by one o'clock today, I'm gonna go lookin' for her with Gavin."
"You've been very kind to him," Carol observed.
"Feel bad. If you hadn't showed somewhere when you were s'posed to show…hell, I'd be out of m'head." He took another sip of coffee. "They ain't just fuckin', are they?"
"He may love her," Carol replied. "I don't know. They can't have been together long. The rumor mill says he had a serious girlfriend in the Kingdom, one of Negan's ex-wives, up until about six weeks ago."
"Who's the rumor mill? Jerry?"
"Yes." Carol smiled and lay her head on his shoulder. On the roof of Mr. Harrison's house, she could see an apparatus designed to collect and filter rainwater. A bright red cardinal alighted on a bird bath in the corner of the fenced-in backyard. The neighborhood cat—which wandered freely and was fed by everyone and had not yet gone feral, rushed out from between two bushes toward the bath, and the cardinal took off, soaring through the air.
10:35 AM
Carol shook Gavin awake. He snorted, rolled, reached for his gun that wasn't on his hip, and stilled when he saw it was only Carol.
"Dianne's here," Carol told him and watched the look of relief wash over his face. "She's going around to the rear pedestrian gate now."
Carol walked out with Gavin to meet her. Noah fell in step beside them on the street. When they got to the rear of the neighborhood, Noah unlocked the combination padlock on the inside of the pedestrian gate and pulled it open. When Dianne came through, Gavin stepped forward and half held out his arms as if to hug her, seemed to realize there were witnesses, and ended up just patting her twice on her left shoulder. "We were worried," he said.
Dianne stepped further forward to allow two men to enter behind her. One was a handsome Hispanic man with his hair in one of those manbuns Carol had always considered silly—although it really didn't look bad on him. Beside him was a more grizzled man who looked like he'd recently started growing a full beard and who wore what looked like a cavalry hat and coat. Noah swung the gate shut behind them.
"I got tied up for a bit," Dianne told Gavin. "Literally. By some Highwaymen who snagged me on the road just outside the Mount Vernon camp and put me in the slave quarters." She nodded to the cavalry-hat-wearing man who stood beside her. "Until Ozzy showed up and recognized me and told them to let me go."
"Sorry about that little misunderstanding," Ozzy said. "If I'd been with that particular patrol, it never would have happened, I assure you. And, hey, I'm here to fight. That should be apology enough."
"Slave quarters?" Noah asked with alarm. "Your camp keeps—"
"—No, no," Ozzy interrupted him. "The original slave quarters. George Washington's. We use it as our jail house now. As needed."
Dianne had also paid a visit to the Hilltop and brought back with them Eduardo, a guard, whom she now introduced to Noah and Carol.
"Jesus sends his apologies," Eduardo said, "But he can't spare anyone else, and he doesn't want to fight himself because he's got sole responsibility for leading the Hilltop now. He didn't ask for that role, but…he's got it."
"We appreciate all the help we can get," Noah said.
"Well," Ozzy replied, "It's hard to resist the persuasion of such a lovely lady." He gave Dianne a wink.
Gavin glowered. "What the hell are you wearing, anyway? Is that Civil War hat?"
"Union U.S. Cavalry Civil War crossed sabers officers slouch hat, to be exact," Ozzy told him.
"Yeah? I hope you didn't bring a musket," Gavin muttered.
"I brought a leverage action rifle," Ozzy told Gavin, patting the strap on his shoulder. "But I'm sure I'll be as quick with it as you are with any semiautomatic."
"What's with the costume, though?" Gavin asked. "They don't have Civil War stuff at Mount Vernon, do they?"
"It would be a bit anachronous if they did," Ozzy told him. "It's all mine. From before. I used to do Civil War reenactments. Shooting demonstrations were part of it, so…as Dianne knows," he smiled at her, "I'm an excellent shot."
Gavin frowned. "That coat must be damn hot in June in Virginia."
Ozzy held out an arm. "These are some seriously thick canvas sleeves. The biters can't get through them on first go, which gives me time to pull away." He looked around at the others. "I think the better question would be why none of you are wearing any kind of arm protection at all."
"Because we're inside the gates," Carol told him. "But I have made leather sleeves studded with metal for when we're out scavenging."
Gavin turned to Dianne. "I'll get you settled. We're in Harrison's house again."
"Hope the digs are nice," Ozzy said.
"You're in the Wilsons' house," Gavin told him pointedly, and Dianne suppressed a smile.
9:40 PM
Mr. Harrison's House
Carol lifted the pillow Daryl was using to cover his ears in bed. "You can come out now, Pookie. They're done."
Gavin had gone to sleep on the couch, but at some point, he'd snuck into the bedroom where Dianne was spending the night, a bedroom with which Daryl and Carol's room shared a rather thin wall.
Daryl tucked the pillow under his head, narrowly avoiding knocking over the flickering oil lamp on the nightstand as he moved it. "Dianne's damn loud."
"It's always the reserved, straight-laced ones you least suspect," Carol quipped. She turned her face toward him and smiled. "We could make some noise to rival them."
Daryl flushed red. Now that he knew how thin the walls were, Carol thought, he was embarrassed by the idea of being overheard. They'd done it in this very bed before, but he hadn't realized how the sound might travel then. "Think I'm all sexed out."
"What?" she asked doubtfully.
"You been banging m'brains out for the last few days."
Carol chuckled. "When have you ever been all sexed out?"
"June 19, 2011. Mark it down on your calendar."
"I'm surprised you know what day it is."
"How the hell can I not? You tell me every damn morning, Little Miss Calendar Girl."
"I'm no calendar girl," Carol assured him. "You'll never see me as Ms. June."
"Like to see you as Ms. June," he murmured. "In nothing but red high heels and a g-string and a skimpy bra, bent over the handlebars of a motorcycle, your ass all perfectly positioned just where I can..." He held his hands up in the air as though gripping a pair of imaginary hips.
"I thought you were all sexed out?"
"Was. 'Til I started thinkin' bout how I'd like to pose you for August."
"Do tell."
"Nah, that's a private fantasy."
Carol laughed. "If you keep your fantasies private, how can you ever expect me to act them out?"
"You ain't gonna act that one out, trust me. Hell, you ain't gonna act any of 'em out in real life. You talk a dirty game, Miss Murphy, but you ain't never let me bend you over my motorcycle."
"You've never asked. Not in real life." She turned her head toward him and fluttered her eyelashes. "Ask and you shall receive."
"Ain't buyin' it."
"Well, I guess you'll never know then."
"Fine." He sat up in the bed. "Let's go."
"What?"
"Let's go, right now. My bike's parked out behind that pedestrian gate, in the woods. I know the combination to the padlock. Watched Noah unlock it. We go out there, and I bend you over it. Right now."
"Right now?" Carol asked.
"Right now."
"There might be walkers out there."
"Do a sweep, clear the zone first."
"There's certainly mosquitos. Way too many mosquitos. We might get covered in mosquito bites."
"Got bug spray in m' pack," Daryl said.
"It's awfully dark now. We won't even be able to see what we're doing."
"Feel you like a blind man," Daryl assured her.
"The night patrol might mistake us for walkers out there."
"See! Told ya. Ain't nothing but a lot of talk, Miss Murphy."
Carol gave him an apologetic pout. "Poor, Pookie."
He lay back down on his back. "Just saying I told ya."
"Would you settle for a high quality hand job," she asked, rolling on her side toward him and slipping a hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, "while I whisper in your ear in full detail," she brought her lips close to his ear, "just exactly how and how much I'd like you to bend me over your motorcycle?"
Daryl swallowed hard as her hand closed around his cock. "I could compromise," he croaked.
Carol raked her teeth over his earlobe once before she began to paint the scene for him in low, sensual whispers as she slowly worked him. She had made it less than halfway into her narrative when she abruptly stopped stroking him and shed her panties. Seeing her change of plans, he slid his boxers down to his thighs to free his now throbbing cock. Carol straddled him, her knees on the bed as she eased herself with a low groan onto his full erection. Daryl seized her hips and sat up to silence her moans with his kisses as he began thrusting into her while she rocked in rhythm with him.
The bed creaked beneath them, louder than their muffled grunts and sighs. Daryl could only swallow the pleased sounds Carol made for so long. When she came, she arched back, away from his mouth, and let out a loud, long, "Oh Goooooooood." Daryl finished with one final thrust and a guttural groan followed by a "Goddamn, Miss Murphy! Goddam!"
They collapsed together back down on the bed, panting, and Carol laughed at the way Daryl was flushing red in the shadowy light of the oil lamp. "They're probably asleep by now," she assured him. "I doubt they heard us."
After swallowing and catching his breath, Daryl rolled on his side, rolling her with him, and draped an arm over her. "'Cept you were loud 'nuff to wake the dead."
"Me?" Carol asked. "What about you?"
Daryl kissed her neck, just above the v-line of the t-shirt she'd never taken off.
"You all sexed out now?" she asked.
"Mhmmmm…." He murmured contently.
Two minutes later, Carol had to squirm out from under the arm of her sleeping husband and reach over him to turn off the oil lamp.