As the screen door whaps shut behind the disappearing men, the redhead in the John Deere cap gathers the other three fallen rifles and goes to lock them in the cab of the farm truck. The stocky man with the blonde buzz cut just stands by the car, looking at Carol and Sophia with an unnerving smile as they stand against the car's side, Carol with her arm tightly around her daughter. The man's smile is not lecherous, it's just…strange, because it doesn't falter.
With only his own rifle slung over his shoulder now, the redhead returns to the car. "Watch the vehicles, Cody," he orders the other man. "I'm going to do a quick perimeter check."
"All righty, Garrison," Cody replies.
Carol makes note of the names. She also makes note of the fact that Cody has shouldered his rifle. She knows her own handgun, with its two remaining rounds, is on one of the dead men on the ground. So is her gutting knife because this new group hasn't finished stripping those bodies of weapons.
High pitched screams drift from out of the country house and Sophia sinks closer against Carol's side.
"Don't worry," says Cody, glancing toward the house. "Daryl and DeShawn will find their camp." He says it as though Carol has any idea what's going on, as though she cares whether or not this group of men gets what they came for. She doesn't. She's only glad they saved her daughter from a violation that might have been impossible for Sophia to recover from.
She wonders if Daryl is the Crossbow Man or the Denzel Washington look alike. She's guessing he's Crossbow Man. It's a stereotypical assumption, but she's never met a white man named DeShawn. Of course, she's never met a cowboy named DeShawn either.
"Thirsty?" Cody asks. "Hungry?"
Sophia looks up at Carol uncertainly.
"Yes," Carol says. "We are." Right now, she's just biding time and trying to gauge the situation. These men don't seem to want to harm them, but they're also busy with their own priorities at the moment. She's not sure if they're under guard by this man, or free to go.
"I got something." Cody begins to turn and walk toward the farm truck.
This is their chance. They can get in the car and drive, or Carol can recover her gun. There probably isn't time for both. But if they're going to survive another week in this world, they need a weapon. So as soon as Cody's back is turned, she slips Sophia the keys, whispers, "Get in," and squats down among the fallen bodies to find her gun.
Sophia has the driver's side door unlocked and is reaching in the back to unlock that door, and Carol has just stood up with her recovered gun, when Cody turns back toward them from the farm truck. At the same time, Garrison has rounded the house.
"Keep that gun lowered!" Garrison orders, striding quickly toward them with his rifle aimed at Carol's face. Carol swallows and keeps the handgun down by her side. Sophia cautiously shuts the front door of the car and leans back against it. When Garrison reaches them, he holds onto his rifle with one hand and snatches the handgun from Carol. He shoulders his own rifle and checks the gun for ammunition. "What were you about to do with this?" he asks.
"Nothing," Carol answers nervously. "It's just…it's my gun. Can I have it back? Please?"
Garrison eyes her suspiciously. "Maybe later." He tucks it into the waistband of his black jeans, and now Cody has returned with a knapsack. He pulls a plastic, 12-ounce bottle of Minute Maid lemonade and extends it to Sophia.
Her eyes light up. "Thank you," Sophia says as she takes the bottle.
Then Cody hands Carol a bottle of spring water.
"I'm going to check out their truck," Garrison tells Cody, and walks off with Carol's gun toward the blue pick-up truck the first group of men drove in.
Next, Cody pulls a fresh red apple out of his backpack and, flashing a big, dopey smile, extends it to Sophia, who snatches it up. Carol has a sudden, sickening vision of Snow White as her daughter sinks her teeth into the red flesh, but it's a ridiculous fear. If these men wanted to kill them, they could have shot them at any time. They wouldn't be feeding them poison apples.
The man pulls out a dark purple plum next and hands it to Carol. She thanks him and takes a small bite as Sophia hungrily consumes the apple, juice running down her chin.
"Sweet," he says. "Sweet is good."
Carol nods as she takes another bite of the plum. He watches them eat, still smiling, and it occurs to her this man is a bit slow. Maybe not actually mentally disabled, but possibly borderline.
"What are your names?" he asks.
"Sophia," Sophia answers, relaxed by the offering of fruit. They haven't had fresh fruit since…well, since the Greene family farm. And that was almost a year ago now.
"I'm Carol."
"I'm Cody. You met Garrison. Daryl and DeShawn are inside." As if to echo his point, another scream drifts from the house.
"DeShawn is the one who looks like Denzel Washington?" Carol asks.
Cody laughs. "Oh, you think so, too? I told him he did! Except…younger, you know. Not Book of Eli Denzel. Glory Denzel."
Sophia glances at her mother. She has no idea what they're talking about.
Carol offers her last bite of plum to Sophia, who has now eaten her apple to the core. "No, Mama," Sophia insists. "You take it."
"Have a taste," Carol insists.
Hesitantly, Sophia slips the apple core in her pocket—she's probably thinking of planting it, if they ever find a camp-and accepts the last bite of the plum. She hums while she sucks the pit, but then she suddenly drops the pit to the ground and screams. The man who was shot with the crossbow bolt through the neck has reanimated and seized her ankle. The walker opens its hissing jaws.
"Ooopsie!" Cody quickly unshoulders his rifle, flips it over, and stabs the creature abruptly in the head with his bayonet. The walker's hand slackens, and Sophia lifts her foot away. "Almost bit you!" Cody shoulders the rifle again, its bayonet now red-black with blood. "Forgot to get that one in the head. I'm surprised Daryl left him like that. Daryl's the one who used to go around saying – Don't y'all know nothing? Got to get them in the head." Cody laughs. "And he didn't get that one in the head."
Carol again puts her arm around Sophia, who is catching her breath from the scare, and looks at the other two fallen bodies, just to make sure they do have holes in their heads.
"Do you have a camp?" Cody asks.
Carol's not sure what the safest answer is to that, so she just gambles on the truth. "No."
"We do," Cody says. That dopey grin again. His teeth are remarkably even. "It's got the big house, and the barn house, and two servant's cottages, and a bunch of trailers." He begins to sound more excited as he talks. "And we have laying hens, some cows, horses…" Sophia's face begins to glow hopefully in response to this description, "apple trees, plum trees, just the one pear tree, and – "
"You're just going to give it all away?" comes Garrison's voice. Carol turns to see the redhead returning toward the car. He has her handgun in the waistabnd of his blue jeans now.
"Sorry," Cody says. "They don't seem dangerous."
"No, they don't," Garrison agrees. "But how many times do we have to tell you! You don't go around talking to strangers about our camp!"
"Can they come back with us?" Cody asks.
"You know the rules. Jefe says no one sets foot inside our gates unless they have a sponsor. You plan to sponsor them?"
"Gosh, you know I can't! I just have that one-bedroom trailer. And I'm not in the inner circle like DeShawn. Or even in the outer circle like Daryl. Can't you sponsor them?"
Garrison looks Carol up and down in a way that makes her uneasy, like he's sizing up a piece of meat, and she wonders if sponsorship involves some kind of sexual service. But at least he doesn't look at Sophia like that. Whatever these men are, they aren't child rapists. "No," he concludes. "I can't sponsor two people on only 100 percent rations any more than you can. And if I was going to sponsor someone, it would be Nadia."
Cody laughs. "In your dreams. Why would she pick you as a sponsor over DeShawn? He's inner circle. Way more rations to share. And he's going to offer to renew."
A gunshot sounds inside the house, and the men turn to look briefly in the direction of the blast.
DeShawn and Daryl walk out of the house now, without their captive. Both men walk with a swagger, but of a different type: DeShawn with a cowboy stride, and Daryl like a barroom brawler, a rifle on one shoulder, and his crossbow on the other. They come to a stop near the car. "Got the location of their camp," Daryl says. "Let's go take them out."
"Now?" Garrison asks.
"No," DeShawn replies with a voice of command. He raises his white cowboy hat and runs a hand over his closely cropped hair before settling the hat down again. "He said there were twenty men. The four of us aren't taking out twenty men."
"Need to act fast," Daryl insists. "'Fore they realize their men ain't coming back. Need the element of surprise."
"I'd rather we have the element of force," DeShawn replies. "The worse that happens is they send out a search party, which just reduces their camp. We should go back home, recoup, get more men, and attack tomorrow." Daryl growls somewhere deep in his throat, and DeShawn claps a hand on his shoulder. "Vengeance shall be yours, trust me. Tomorrow. You know this is smarter. Four on twenty? Let's at least halve that."
"Yeah," Daryl admits. "I know." He sighs. "Least I got Merle's bike back."
DeShawn seems to remember Carol and Sophia, and he looks them over curiously, but not lecherously.
"Will you sponsor them?" Cody asks. "They don't have a camp. They're all alone out here."
Carol hasn't said she wants to be sponsored. She doesn't even know what it means to be sponsored. But she does know she and her daughter almost got violently raped out here, that they've almost been bitten a dozen time by walkers, that they're completely out of food and down to two rounds of ammo and three gallons of gas. She knows it's a miracle she's kept her daughter alive and free from abuse this long. She now knows these men have a camp with food and gates and shelter, safe from walkers and child rapists like the ones they just killed. So whatever she herself has to do to ensure that kind of security for Sophia? She'll do it.
DeShawn sighs. "I can't. I already sponsor Nadia and her son."
"But you're inner circle. You get 200% rations!" Cody exclaims.
"I can't stretch 200% rations across five people."
Cody looks at the crossbow man, who is now bent over studying a map he's opened on the hood of Carol's car. "What about you, Daryl?"
Daryl looks up. "What?"
"You want to be a sponsor?" Cody asks him.
DeShawn smirks. "God knows you could use someone to wash your clothes."
"Maybe cut that mangy hair of yours," Garrison agrees. "And you've got an extra room now in that cottage."
Daryl's eyes flash fire, and Garrison holds up a staying hand. "I didn't mean it like that."
Daryl stands straight. "Just like you didn't mean to high tail it like a coward and leave my brother to die!" He strides violently toward Garrison.
DeShawn inserts himself between the men. He puts a hand flat on Daryl's chest. "Calm down! Merle went out in a blaze of glory, just like he always would have wanted. Garrison just did what he had to. If he hadn't gotten out of that situation, and gotten back to camp, we wouldn't have known what happened, where to start tracking Merle's shell so you could bury him, or where to start tracking his killers. So calm down and step back."
Daryl narrows his eyes at Garrison, but he steps back and returns to the hood of the car, where he swipes up the map and begins angrily folding it.
"You do have the space," Cody tells him. "And, yeah, it'll be hard to stretch 150% rations across three people, but you get to keep whatever you hunt once you meet your monthly community quota, right?"
Daryl looks through veiled eyelids at Carol and Sophia. He's not sizing Carol up like a piece of meat, like Garrison did. He's looking at her more like a man looks at a petty nuisance.
"Two months," Cody pleads. "Remember there's a trial period. You don't have to commit right now to more than two months. And you don't have to renew later if you decide you don't want to. But come on! At least sponsor them for the trial period. They're all alone out here!"
"Fine," Daryl mutters. He shoves the map in the back pocket of his faded black work pants. "But you drive 'em back to camp. I'm riding Merle's bike. And if they turn out to be a pain in my ass, I ain't renewing!" He struts toward the farm truck.
Renewing? Carol thinks as she watches their would-be "sponsor" slide the rifle he was carrying into the flat bed.
"Mama?" Sophia asks, looking up into Carol's eyes. "Can we go to the place with the fruit trees and chickens and horses and cows?"
Now that "sponsor" is strutting toward the motorcyle. Maybe it doesn't matter what she has to do to be sponsored. They're being guaranteed at least two months of fences, safe from walkers, two months of food, safe from starvations, two months of armed men keeping worse armed men away. It's a start. It's a respite. And they're desperate. It's a gamble she's willing to take.
Carol nods. "Yes, sweetie. We can go." She looks straight at Garrison. "If I can have my gun back." Because if she has that, and this sponsor turns out to be a man like Ed, maybe she can shoot him in his sleep, then sneak away by night.
Garrison looks at DeShawn, who shrugs and nods. The redhead reaches into his waistband and hands Carol back her gun, butt first.
"And I need to get my knife."
"That little pairing knife?" DeShawn's handsome, dark face furrows with confusion. "I don't think that's going to be much use to you now."
"I had a bigger knife. That man took it." She points to one of the dead bodies.
"Well go ahead and rummage for it if you must," DeShawn tells her. "Or you could just ask your sponsor for a new knife when you get to camp. Daryl must have collected fifty by now."
Daryl kick starts the motorcycle into a roar and shouts to the others, "C'mon! Ain't got all day!"