Chapter 20.

Details.

Rick.

He had been avoiding this visit for days.

Rick knew it had to happen at some point. He had been a police officer for over a decade now, so this was nothing new to him. He was not afraid. He was not unsure of what to say. But he knew once he went into that tent and saw her, he would have to take action.

It was that part that scared him.

The world had changed. It had turned on its side, and things that used to matter now paled to survival. It was all about living – they had little time to think about the quality of life.

"Carol?" he said, tapping on the side of the tent. "May I come in?"

Her voice came softly, "Yes."

Rick entered the tent, kicking off his shoes and crouching beside her cot. Carol lay on her side, a split lip the only outward indication that something had happened. Her body was stiff, the edges of bruises just peaking out under her sleeves. He was trained to detect these sorts of things, to see the pictures people might try to hide.

It was different out here in the woods, with no jail cells, no court of law. Rick had been running on fumes trying to keep his family alive. He had no idea what kind of power he might have, what change he might be able to make here. He only knew where to start.

He took a look around, winced at the beige walls, and said, "You gotta be tired of these walls by now."

She smiled, but the expression didn't reach her eyes. He knew that dead-eyed look. Not even a hit of peace in them. Troubled, like storm clouds.

"Listen, Dale is gonna tell the kids some stories around the fire tonight, try to lift everybody's spirits. You should come."

Carol was quiet, her eyes flickering down to the floor.

"I think Sophia might like it if you were there," Rick pressed.

She stared at his boots, giving no reaction apart from a subtle twitch in her jaw. In a voice as departed as her eyes, she said, "I'll come."

Maybe she was just trying to make him leave. Rick knew that Shane had already spoken to her, trying to get her to admit what her husband had done, but that was not his intention here. He just needed to see her for himself, to put this image in his mind. Now that he had seen it, it was time to take action – though he was still unsure what that might entail.

"Okay. You rest up, then. I'll let you know when we're gettin' started, okay?"

He left her there, dragging a hand through his hair as the sunshine hit him, as if he could shake off what he'd seen in the light of day.

Lori was waiting in their tent, pacing back and forth like it was more than seven feet from wall to wall. She froze in her tracks when he came in, her expression hopeful, but cautious. Sometimes when he got home from work, uniform still on, still frazzled from his day, she would grill him about the results of one case or another. It was a small town and she always seemed to know what was going on. Sometimes Rick told her. Other times it was too cruel to share it.

It felt like one of those times.

"Did you talk to Carol?" Lori asked. "How is she? Is she okay?"

"She has a split lip, but that's all I could tell," Rick said, sitting heavily on their cot. His weight had suddenly doubled, now that Carol was sitting on his shoulders.

Lori sat beside him. "What are you going to do?"

Rick groaned, running a hand over his face.

She pressed, "Rick, you have to do something."

"I know that. I just don't know what."

"We can't just let him beat her up!"

"I know," Rick repeated. "But there's no jail I can throw him in." He met her eyes, trying to convey his dilemma. "And if I make him leave, who's to say he won't just show up and retaliate against Carol, or worse? And putting him out would kill him. What do you want me to do?"

Her eyes burned, but she had no answers, either. She turned away, staring at the tent wall. Rick knew how she was feeling. Angry, with no outlet. When this all started this was the last thing Rick thought he would have to deal with.

But it made sense, in a way. People didn't stop being themselves just because the world ended.

"I'm gonna take a walk, try to think," Rick said shortly, leaving his wife there to sulk.

It seemed brighter outside. Rick's head began to ache as he walked through camp. Everybody was going about their lives, finding order in their tiny society. Sometimes he wondered if they were too comfortable here, forgetting what lie beyond the trees. But he wanted it like that, didn't he? He wanted to worry, so that they could forget.

Walkers were the exterior threat, the enemy, but now there was something dangerous inside.

Two things, Rick amended, as his eyes landed on Merle. He was propped up against his motorcycle, carefully arranging pills into five neat piles.

Again, there was no recourse out in the woods.

"Can you do that more privately?" Rick said, standing in front of Merle to block the view of him from the main camp, where his kid was playing.

Merle slid a few more pills around, and then drew his eyes slowly up to Rick, lingering on the gun on his hip. He smiled pleasantly. "Well, howdy, sheriff."

Rick knew that he was full of shit. He'd been watching Merle, knew that he and Roy liked to hang around with Ed. Birds of a feather. There was a devious mind behind those falsely friendly eyes – an air of sarcasm and lies behind everything he said. But so far he had been harmless, if not a little gruff. His brother Daryl had saved Carl out in the woods.

Either way, Rick was not fond of drugs.

"Oh, shit, you talkin' 'bout this?" Merle rasped, gesturing to his piles of pills. He scraped them all together, making Rick wonder why he was sorting them in the first place. "Sorry, I was just taking inventory. You know how it is."

Rick grimaced. "Just make sure those stay away from the kids, please."

"Of course. Wouldn't dream of lettin' 'em get their precious little hands on my stash."

Everything he said seemed to have a hidden meaning. Rick hoped he wouldn't become a problem. It was hard enough having to figure out what to do about Ed.

XxX

Daryl.

He never got to be alone for very long.

Carl was always stalking him, lurking nearby, imitating whatever he was doing. It had been a day for it. Carl was currently pretending to skin his own rabbit from twenty feet away, and Daryl was sick of shouting at him to leave him alone. So he just ignored him.

The boy scampered away when Merle showed up.

"I'm done with this place," Merle said, dropping a bag beside Daryl and flopping down on his back in the grass. "I'm ready to go. Tonight."

Daryl tensed, "Tonight?"

"Oh, yeah. We're sittin' around out here, just waitin' for the inevitable. It's bullshit. They got some kinda gatherin' going on tonight, everybody all sittin' around. Perfect time. We hold one of 'em, the others stay in line 'til we get the truck loaded up."

Daryl said nothing, shearing skin from muscle in smooth motions. It kept him calm, kept him focused on the important questions. "Just like that, huh?"

"Well, with a little collateral…"

He kept his voice even, "Who's the unlucky bastard?"

As if summoned, Roy appeared, glistening with midday sweat. He wiped a rag across his sopping face, grinning, "Hey, boys. Hammerin' out the details?" He and Merle met eyes briefly, an exchange that made Daryl feel like an outsider.

His legs bundled up under him, ready to run, like a mouse out in an open field.

Merle sat up and gave Daryl a hard pat on the back, groaning as he got to his feet. "Relax, we got it all worked out, boy. You just gotta show up."

Daryl said nothing, carefully severing the skin from its final point of contact with the body of the rabbit. He set it aside, flesh down, to dry on the sweltering rock. Merle hitched one lip in that way he had – like he was mad – and put an arm around Roy, "Give us a minute, eh?"

Once Roy had wandered off, sneaking glances over his shoulders, Merle crouched down by Daryl's work station. He surveyed the rabbit. "Sloppy."

"Lots of mouth flappin,'" Daryl said.

"Now, call me paranoid, bro, but you don't see too… enthused."

Merle had an edge in his voice. Older. Wiser. Keener. That was the mistake people made when they were dealing with him. Merle was smart, smarter than they thought. It got them pretty far in life – until now. This camp felt like a roadblock. But the moment he met the sheriff, he started laying it on thick. Even Merle couldn't keep that up forever.

It was probably for the best they split soon.

So why did Daryl feel so strange about it?

Roy.

It was easy when he gave it any thought. He hated Roy. He was slimy. He was the kind of man their father would like – so why in the hell was Merle so friendly with him? It felt like betrayal. No. It looked like betrayal.

Merle was starting to look like their father in Daryl's eyes.

But some things you can never say.

"I don't want to be there," Daryl finally said, settling for the least harmful of all his hang ups.

Merle snorted, "What, you scared?"

"No, I ain't scared!" Daryl shot back, finally pausing his work. He had half of the chest dissected, thin strips of meat lying by the skin. He met Merle's eyes, seeing a brief flash of red. "I don't wanna be a part of that shit! Who're you taking?"

"I don't know, boy, one of the men. Maybe the sheriff's partner."

Daryl scowled.

Merle stared him down with the menace of a pit bull.

Daryl was starting to falter.

But before he could break, Merle relented, "Fine, be a pussy. I don't give a shit if you're there. We can handle it. You can meet us at the river – the U-bend in the Copperhead. Or you scared to be out in the woods alone after dark?"

Daryl went back to his work. He suppressed his relief, hiding it from his brother. Once they were away from all of this, Roy could have a little accident in the woods.

"What about you're other pal?" Daryl wondered.

Merle frowned, scratched his head, and then snorted, "Who? Ed?" He laughed, looking behind them to where camp life went on as usual. Nobody there knew that they would be short more than half of their supplies and one member by the end of the night. Ed was chatting with Roy, swatting flies off his fat face.

"What, you two break up?" Daryl asked.

Merle huffed, his voice taking on a serious, cutting tone. "You see what he did to his old lady? No way he's comin' with me. Get a knife in the eye's more likely."

And he walked off.

Daryl watched him go. Merle was a man who would stab someone for cheating at poker – Daryl had seen him do it before – but suddenly he cared what Ed did to his wife? Maybe the heat was finally getting to him.

Either way, it was a relief. Now Daryl only had to get rid of Roy, and it could be just the two of them again, like it should be. Once they were alone in the woods, things would go back to normal between them.

Daryl left the camp before dusk, leaving his meat out to dry so it wouldn't be suspicious. He took his hunting pack, full of rations, and left most of his other stuff laying around. It looked like he would come right back, pick up where he left off. Only he would never be back. He would leave this suffocating place behind.

He took one last look through the trees, caught sight of Carl trying to locate him. He rolled his eyes. He hoped no one died tonight, but he was absolving himself of blame by staying away. He would see them when it was over.

Other people were a nuisance, a liability.

Maybe Merle would kill them all, save them the misery of starving to death.