The Wolf You Feed
Chapter 65
Daryl stopped walking and rolled his shoulders. The night before, he slept high up in the crotch of a tree. This kept him from getting eaten by walkers but it had put a terrible twinge in his lower back. He heard his brother's voice in his head. I'm getting too old for this shit. The man was usually complaining about being hungover after drinking too much when he said it, but Daryl figured the same could be said for sleeping in trees.
Daryl's plan was to cut north as far and fast as he could. He didn't know where the Saviors' base was. But he knew it was north of Hilltop and Hilltop was north of Alexandria. The Saviors would be less suspicious of him if he was coming at them from the opposite direction instead of walking there directly from home. Daryl didn't know much about his enemies. But with the numbers they had, he guessed they must be constantly recruiting new soldiers. He was hoping that they would think that he would make a good one. Getting into their base camp would be much easier if they let him in. He would worry about how to get out once he found Rowan.
It was hard to judge how many miles he had covered the last two days. Daryl hoped it was at least ten each day. But he was walking through the woods, not on the road. He couldn't risk being spotted. The Saviors had people watching all the roads in the area. So his trip was taking him longer because he had to pick through and go around bushes and bramble patches. As he walked, Daryl had passed a few abandoned campsites. But no sign of life other than a few squirrels and songbirds. He stopped at the campsites, picking through what was left behind.
There had been a few cans of beans and a working lighter at the first one. Daryl tucked the items away in his bag. At the second site, there had not been much of anything. A few discarded clothing items and a small handsaw. Daryl wasn't sure why he picked up the saw. It wouldn't be of any use to him for killing walkers. He justified taking it by telling himself that he could use it to saw off the smaller limbs of the next tree he slept in to keep them from poking into his back. But really he just liked the twangy sound the metal made when he swiped it through the air.
A grunting noise caught Daryl's attention. He assumed it was a walker and paused. One walker was not a problem. But they tended to shuffle together in groups. KIlling a small herd would tire him out and waste his time. Time he would rather spend getting himself closer to his wife. Before he could steer himself away from the noise, Daryl heard another grunt followed by a thump and a stream of curse words. The voice sounded like a man's.
Daryl approached slowly and silently. He had been right. It was a man's voice. And the man was alone so Daryl was sure he wasn't a savior. The man was down at the bottom of a small slope, struggling with a giant walker that was lying sideways across a creek bed. Daryl had seen his fair share of walkers. But this one took the cake. And clearly the man had. Taken the whole cake and ate it while he was still alive. And probably had some ice cream for dessert. Daryl guessed the walker's body had to be close to four hundred pounds. And now that it had been lying in the creek water, it had absorbed water from the creek as well. Most of the clothing the walker had been wearing was ripped and hanging from the body in tatters. Now in death, the man resembled a beached white whale. He was moaning and swinging the one arm that wasn't pinned under its giant bloated body.
The man that Daryl had heard cursing had a firm grip on the monster's ankle. He was tugging with all his strength, trying to drag the giant beast out of the creek water. Daryl bit his lip to keep from laughing. The walker wasn't moving. Not even one single inch. The man pulling on it was skinny and short in stature. He had a head of wild dark hair that looked to be in bad need of a trim or at least to be brushed. One side stuck out in wild tangles while the other side was matted flat to his head. The man had a sheen of perspiration on his forehead as he gave the monster one more tug before he fell backwards on his ass and began cursing again.
"Hey," was all Daryl said as he stepped out, revealing himself to the man.
He didn't put his hands up. Instead he left one resting on the butt of his gun. But his stance was casual. He wasn't afraid of the much smaller man. Nothing was ever guaranteed to be safe, but Daryl was fairly sure if this man had any bigger friends around that he wouldn't be trying to drag a four hundred pound walker up an incline by himself. The man was clearly alone.
"Hey yerself," the man grumbled back. Though he looked surprised to see Daryl suddenly appear, he made no move towards his weapons. They had been abandoned on the grass at the top of the slope behind him. Instead the man rose and began kicking at the giant walker.
"Stupid fuckin' cow is stinkin' up our water supply," he complained. The man gave Daryl a hopeful glance. "Could offer yeh a hot meal iffin' yeh kin help me drag his fatass outta 'ere," he offered.
Daryl looked down at the saw in his hands before holding it up and displaying it for the man to see. A large grin lit up the man's face. He stepped back from the walker and brushed his sweaty hands off on his pants.
"Let's do this in sections," Daryl suggested.
TWD
After their dirty work was done, Daryl followed the man back to his camp. The man walked ahead and led the way, clearly not nervous about putting his back to Daryl. Either he hadn't had enough bad experiences to taint his trust of people or he figured Daryl would have shot him from the woods when he first spotted him if that was his intention. The man led the way, but as they were following the creek back, it wasn't hard to determine which way they were headed.
After about a thirty minute walk, a cabin became visible in a clearing to their right. Daryl had guessed the man was holed up somewhere more temporary. He was pleasantly surprised to see a small garden planted. A few clotheslines stretched between two trees, clothes hanging from them to dry in the late afternoon sun. As they got closer, Daryl could see the cabin was larger than it looked from near the creek. The building was two stories and had a large covered front porch. There were two rocking chairs on one side of the door. A well worn rope hammock was hanging on the other, pulled between two of the wooden beams that held the porch roof up.
"Heyya!, I'm home," the man called out as they headed up the stairs together.
The door swung open from inside. A petite woman with light brown hair peered out at them. She smiled at Daryl's companion before giving him a curious look. The woman was as skinny as the man, though slightly taller. She had large brown eyes and an almost non existent chin. Her prominent front teeth were revealed when she smiled at the man.
"This 'ere's my wife Emily," the man announced as he pulled the woman close and kissed her cheek. The woman simply nodded at Daryl and moved back to allow him into the house.
"He helped me out uncloggin' tha crick water," the man explained to his wife. She nodded again, this time flashing her buck teeth at Daryl. Her dark eyes lingered on him just long enough to make him slightly uncomfortable. Something about her gaze felt slightly predatory. Daryl shifted his body from one foot to the other. The woman dropped her eyes and hurried over to the kitchen area. He shook off the bad feeling that had suddenly come over him, telling himself that she probably just hadn't seen anyone new in a long time.
A giggle drifted down from the second floor of the cabin and Daryl glanced up towards the noise. There was a hallway of the upper story that was open to the downstairs living area. A small group of people had gathered together in that hallway and were staring down at him.
"That's muh wife's sisters and muh sister in law," the man informed him. "..and all their brats," he added as he pointed to the children peeking out from between the slats of the railing.
It was obvious which two of the three women were related to the man's wife. They shared her distinct facial features. And the third woman was much larger. She wasn't overweight, but she was taller and had extremely wide shoulders. Daryl glanced up, trying to picture her married to a man the size of the one that was currently poking at the large pot of soup his wife had simmering on top of their woodburning stove. It made for a rather comical mental image.
Daryl had already earned his supper when he helped the man with the mammoth walker. But he still offered up one of the cans of beans he found to help round out the soup. The man's wife fed the small army of children first. They gobbled their food up quickly, casting curious glances at Daryl while they stuffed their faces. Once they scampered back upstairs, the adults sat down to eat.
The food wasn't gourmet by any means, but it was hot and it filled Daryl's stomach. The man finished as quickly as the children, shoving his chair back from the table while his mouth was still full of stew.
"Got me sum rabbit traps ta check," he announced. Daryl began to push his chair back as well, intending to rise from the table and join the man. But the man waved him off and hurried out the door, leaving Daryl alone at the table with only the four women.
With the man gone, the predatory gleam returned to his wife's eyes. She offered Daryl a toothy grin and slid slightly closer to him.
"Well stranger," she drawled, "where do ya hail from?" Her leg stretched out under the table, the tips of her toes brushing against Daryl's shin. He quickly shifted his body, moving his legs away from the woman. The larger of the four women barked out a laugh.
"No need ta be shy," she teased.
"I'm just passin' through," Daryl explained, "I'm looking for my wife. She was taken by another group."
He normally wouldn't tell strangers his business but Daryl was hoping that mentioning that he was married would get these women to back off. Though clearly at least one of them didn't put much importance on wedding vows. Daryl rubbed his hand over his stomach, which was starting to feel a little queasy. He didn't feel he had eaten too much. Not enough to make him sick. In fact, there was still food left in his bowl. The stew had a nasty aftertaste. But sometimes after not eating for a day or two, it was easy to overdo it.
The queasy feeling was getting stronger. Daryl's stomach was starting to roll. He gripped the table and stood up. If he was going to barf, he didn't want to do it all over the table. As he rose, an intense wave of dizziness rushed over him. His head was spinning. Daryl sat back down in his chair, landing hard on his ass. The women giggled. They didn't seem concerned for him. And what was more frightening, they didn't seem surprised that he was sick.
Daryl wasn't proud of the life that he had lived before the turn. But he had long since stopped being ashamed of it. He had spent most of his adult life with his brother. And Merle liked to get high. Which meant Daryl had done his fair share of drugs as well. Which is why when he plopped back down in his chair and the room started to spin, Daryl knew what had happened. He had been drugged. It was his own fault really. He should know better by now than to let his guard down. He should have never trusted these strangers.
Daryl scrubbed at his face as he tried to center himself. He did not want to pass out. When he lowered his hands and opened his eyes, there was a woman's bare ass wiggling back and forth in front of his face. Daryl leaned back in his seat, away from her. The ass belonged to the man's wife. She had flipped her frumpy dress up and pulled her underwear down, then bent over the table in front of him.
Another one of the women was rubbing her hands down his chest. He couldn't tell which one since she was standing behind him. She leaned forward and grabbed at his crotch. Daryl shoved her hands away and she laughed. The man's wife turned around. She slapped the other woman away, her hand making a loud crack when she connected with the other woman's flesh.
"I'm gettin' the first helpin'," she hissed, "when I'm DONE y'all kin do what ya like with'im,"
The woman reached for his belt and loosened the buckle. Daryl pushed her hands away but it was clear she wasn't going to be that easily dissuaded. She unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. Then she reached in and pulled out his dick. Finding it flaccid in her hand, the woman cursed as she kneeled down in front of him. Her mouth was warm and wet on him. The room was spinning and the harder his dick became, the more nauseous it was making him.
"Just close yer eyes and pretend I'm yer long lost wife," the woman suggested with a laugh as she stood and yanked up her dress. She straddled Daryl and lowered herself down on him, using her hand to shove his penis into her. He was only semi erect, but there was enough of him there for her to impale herself. She began rocking her hips back and forth. Her movements were pushing Daryl's already sore lower back into the hard slats of the chair. He shoved at the woman, mumbling a few choice curse words.
Just as suddenly as her slight weight had come down onto his lap, the woman was gone. A loud slap rang out through the room. Daryl fell out of the chair, hitting the floor with a thump. His world turned sideways but he could still see. The man had his wife by the hair with one hand, slapping her with the other as he dragged her across the room.
"Stupid little whore," the man screamed. He tossed the woman to the floor and kicked her. While Daryl didn't approve in the slightest of a man beating his wife, he didn't have much sympathy for the little rapist either.
Daryl wasn't sure if he had hit his head when he fell out of the chair or if what he had been drugged with was just now taking full effect. But the room was going in and out of focus. Everything went black for a moment before he was able to snap himself back into consciousness. He tried to lift his head but his body felt incredibly heavy. Even his arms weighed too much to lift. A pair of black combat boots appeared in his line of sight.
"This one will do nicely." Daryl didn't know the people that drugged him. But he knew the person that spoke was not one of them. The accent was completely different. There was not even a hint of a southern twang. His eyes shut despite his efforts to keep himself awake. The last thing he felt was his body being drug across the floor and out the door of the cabin.
** The story inside a story in this book is the Odyssey. This scene was inspired by a scene in the movie Cold Mountain, which is also based on the Odyssey. **
