AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
As I said before, we have a lot of set up to do. This is the first time I've written anything from the very, very beginning, so it's kind of exciting!
I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think!
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"You can't be here!" Daryl barked as he rushed toward the spot where Ed was standing, talking to the police officer that had joined them early on in their journey from I-20 and had pushed between Daryl and Merle on the drive. "He can't fuckin' be here!"
"Whoa! Whoa! Now wait a minute! Let's just—everybody, wait a damn minute!" The police officer barked, putting his body between Daryl and Ed.
Daryl felt Merle's hand go to his shoulder and tug him backward.
"Easy brother," Merle offered. "Officer's wearin' his piece an' we all wired the fuck up."
The warning was simple enough. The Dixons didn't always have the best relationships with the police, and it was better to read an officer before you ended up pistol-whipped or worse.
Ed sneered at him from the other side of the dark-haired police officer, and his face, alone, made Daryl's blood boil in his veins. He held himself back, though, not trying to make things difficult for anyone but Ed. He took a deep breath, focused on calming enough that the officer—whether he was of the Billy-Bad-Ass or the Barney Fife variety—wouldn't find him threatening.
"He can't be here," Daryl said. "Gotta fuckin' go."
"Where the hell am I gonna go?" Ed responded over the officer's shoulder. The police officer turned his body so that he had a shoulder facing each of them, and he could see them better. He put a hand up in the direction of each of them, keeping plenty of distance between the two men.
"Let's try this again. See—I'm Officer Shane Walsh from King County. Let's start there."
Merle had let go of Daryl's shoulder, and now he was standing shoulder to shoulder with him.
"Merle Dixon," Merle offered. He laughed to himself. "Of the East River Dixons. This is my brother, Daryl, and this our campsite. The whole damn lot of you followed our asses up here an' he ain't welcome."
Daryl was grateful that Merle, at least, had a clear head today. He was grateful that all of this hadn't given him the time or opportunity to take anything that he was known to sneak from time to time. He could be impossible to deal with when he took shit. At least, at the moment, he was bound to be more help than hindrance—even if he still usually managed to rub many people the wrong way.
"Look—we got a damned restrainin' order against him," Daryl said.
Ed laughed.
"Looks like he's the only law that's here," Ed said. "You gonna lock me up, Dixon?"
Daryl could tell that the officer's greatest struggle, at the moment, was deciding which of them he liked least.
"He nearly killed my wife," Daryl said, doing his best to be as calm as he could. "More'n once. He had some damn nasty-ass ideas about my daughter that keep my ass awake at night."
"You're full of shit!" Ed barked back. "And that ain't your daughter! She's my kid!"
"You got a wife an' kid," Daryl said, remembering that Shane had spilled out of the patrol car with his family. They were off somewhere, maybe even becoming acquainted with Carol and Sophia, near the water, at this moment. "You gotta know where the hell I'm comin' from. He can't fuckin' stay here."
"If you're so worried about it," Ed offered, "why don't you move the fuck on with that lyin' ass cooze you shacked up with?"
"This is our fuckin' campsite!" Merle barked. Now it was Daryl who had to put his hand out to stop his brother. The officer, Shane, was probably a mix of Billy-Bad-Ass and Barney Fife, because his hand was on his gun as he took everything in, and he looked like just the kind of man who would like the excuse to break a nose or two to relieve a little of the current pressure and frustration.
"It doesn't look like the government would give a shit about that, even if you had a fuckin' deed to the land," Ed offered.
"Then they ain't gonna give a shit if I kill your ass!" Daryl barked back at Ed.
"Woah! Stop! Just fucking—just stop!" Shane barked, stepping a half step forward to be further between them, and holding them all at arms' length. "We're gonna talk about this and we're going to work through it rationally, because I'm not having this kind of interaction where we're going to be camping. Nobody's killing anybody. Now—we don't know what the hell is going on exactly, but we're not descending into chaos."
"You know, it ain't your damn campsite, neither," Merle offered. Other than frustration making his voice crack slightly, he came across as almost absolutely calm.
"And it isn't yours," Shane responded.
"Bullshit!" Merle barked. "I knew where this place was. I led the way up here. If it weren't for me? Your ass would still be sittin' out on I-20 with your fuckin' thumb up your ass, waitin' for them to vaporize you and your whole fuckin' family. That badge mighta made your ass important in King County, but we ain't there now."
"If you think I'm going to sit here and let any of you assholes fucking…"
Ed started talking, but he jumped a little too soon at the already edgy police officer. Shane Walsh had already had his hand on his gun for a while. He'd already been ready to react in some way. Ed had simply pushed too far at the moment when Shane's ability to deal with a situation was just about to boil over.
The hard hit was enough to drop Ed to the ground, and to leave him writhing there for a moment as he worked to assure himself that the busted spot across his cheek wasn't fatal and hadn't broken anything vital.
"You just stay down there until I tell you to get up," Shane warned. He looked in Daryl and Merle's direction. "Can we talk about this without me having to lay every last one of you out?"
Daryl held up his hands in mock surrender. Merle just stepped back a half a step, making a show to somewhat separate himself from the group, and lit a cigarette. From the ground, Ed loudly protested his mistreatment, but he stayed sitting on his ass in the dirt.
Accepting that everyone was going to let things be discussed, Shane re-holstered his pistol, but he kept his hand resting on it like a Wild West cowboy waiting for a shootout in front of the saloon.
"I'm not going to listen to everybody yelling at me and everybody else. Now—after what we saw in Atlanta? This is a serious situation and tempers are a little high right now."
"You in charge now?" Merle asked.
"Somebody's got to be," Shane barked back. Daryl saw his fingers flex. Merle was smart enough to know not to push it too far. "I have training in handling emergencies and managing crowds during times of crisis."
"By breaking their fucking faces?" Ed spat from the dirt.
Shane looked at him with a look of warning. Then, some amusement crossed his lips.
"Like you pointed out," Shane said, "some of the rules seem to have changed. But I do what has to be done." He looked at Daryl. "Now that we're all calm, can you rationally explain to me what the problem is?"
Daryl nodded his head.
"We come here, with our families, to get away from what the hell is happenin' down there," Daryl said.
"That's why we're all here," Shane agreed.
"All y'all followed us," Daryl pointed out.
Shane smiled to himself.
"It's public land," he offered, "unless…you have a deed?"
"I ain't tryin' to start shit," Daryl said. Merle had meandered off some distance to oversee what was going on. He wasn't going to start shit, either, unless it really needed to be started. "I'm just pointing out that nobody woulda been here if it weren't us showin' you where the hell this place is. You wanna organize shit or whatever—be my guest. We ain't interested in managin' this whole big ass group of people. Only thing we give a shit about is keepin' our families alive."
Shane's hand slipped off his gun. He ran the hand through his hair. He nodded at Daryl. He was as relaxed, maybe, as a man like him ever really got. There were reasons that people went into the professions that they chose. Daryl had always believed that a certain kind of person became a police officer.
"That's all any of us want," Shane said. "To stay alive. We all stand a better chance of that if we're cooperating. Working together and not against each other. We're going to do a lot better if we keep the peace and work as a group—not as enemies."
"You won't hear no argument from me on that," Daryl said. He tried to make sure that his face conveyed his sincerity. "We ain't lookin' for a fight from no damn body. And we don't give a shit about other people scratchin' out a livin' here together. Except for that asshole."
Daryl indicated Ed with his finger.
"You listen here," Ed started, but Shane stopped him with his own finger pointing in Ed's direction.
"I don't remember asking you for your side of the story just yet," Shane pointed out.
"This is police brutality," Ed pointed out.
Daryl didn't stop himself from grimacing.
"Not breakin' his damn head is just about takin' all the hell I got right now," Daryl warned Shane.
"Keep fighting it," Shane informed him. "Because I'm not going to tolerate this bullshit from anyone."
"That man is Ed Peletier," Daryl said. "He moved outta East River about a year and a half ago when the whole damn town found out he damn near beat his woman to death and intended to fuck his little girl."
"That's bullshit!" Ed barked. "Slander! You got no proof against me!"
"The proof was you layin' Carol up in the hospital!" Daryl barked. "And it weren't even the first fuckin' time!"
"She's a stupid, lyin' cunt," Ed slurred. "That's all the hell she is. All she's ever been. She was fuckin' this asshole behind my back. Instigated a fight with me and then made up a bunch of bullshit to slander my name."
"He's full of shit," Daryl said. "We got a restrainin' order. They were in the process of decidin' if he even had rights to my daughter. Judge was gonna revoke 'em. His rights was up for involuntary termination because of long-term abuse and neglect, potential sexual abuse, and long-term alcohol and drug abuse."
"That's bullshit," Ed spat from the ground.
Daryl laughed to himself.
"You think my ass is smart enough to make that up? I wouldn't even know what half that shit is if it weren't for the fact we been studyin' over it for months," Daryl said. "Got a restrainin' order against him for my wife an' my daughter."
"She's my daughter," Ed said. "And nothing—not one damn thing—has been proven beyond what that lyin' ass whore has said."
Shane put his hand up in time to rest it firmly against Daryl's chest as Daryl moved forward.
"I've got no way of knowing what did or didn't happen," Shane said. "But…" he said quickly, interrupting Daryl as he made the first sounds of protest. "But…I'm going to err on the side of protecting the woman and child."
"You can't just take his word!" Ed protested.
"I have to take somebody's," Shane said.
"It's bullshit! I don't get to even defend myself?"
"You defended yourself when you said the lying whore made the story up," Shane offered. "I'm going to take that defense into account."
"And throw me out there alone?" Ed asked. "When I didn't do a damned thing that anyone here can prove. He stole my fuckin' wife. Slandered my name. Stole my kid and now you're gonna let him try to get me killed?"
"I never fuckin' knew your wife until after you put her ass in the fuckin' hospital the last fuckin' time you done it!" Daryl protested.
"Stop it!" Shane barked. "Just stop it! Both of you! He's right. Right now, we don't know what's going on. We've all heard the reports. We've seen the news. We know about the corpses and, now, we know about the bombs. I'm going to make this simple." He pointed to Ed. "You keep your distance. You stay on one side of the damned camp. When you're in communal spaces, you don't talk to get near the woman or the child. Is that understood?"
"She's my daughter," Ed protested.
"How about you ask her about that?" Daryl countered.
"You keep your distance or you leave the area," Shane said. "That's the only way you're not being escorted out of camp."
"He'll never keep to it," Daryl protested.
"He'll keep to it," Shane said, "or he'll get the hell out of this camp. Because if you violate the simple rules that I've laid out, I'm going to assume you're guilty of everything he said."
"Fine," Ed said to Shane. "Fuck you," he tossed in Daryl's direction. "And your whole white trash family."
Daryl looked at Shane. He couldn't tell exactly what emotion the police officer was going through, but there was a good bit of annoyance or conflict on his features.
"If things don't change quick? After what we seen in Atlanta? Looks like the order we knew before is dead. If he gets any ideas? Any at all? And he touches my wife or daughter? I'ma kill him." Daryl shook his head. "That ain't no threat. It's just a straight up promise. He touches 'em? I'ma kill him—and I'll take my damned chances on whether or not the world can ever come back from bombin' the fuckin' streets of Atlanta, and probably all them assholes stuck on I-20 by now, with fuckin' aerosol bombs or napalm or whatever the fuck it was that they just used to kill half the population of Georgia. So, you wanna be in charge of things? Fine. You handle it."
"I don't like threats of violence, Daryl," Shane warned.
"It ain't a threat," Daryl assured him. "It's just information that you and him, both, oughta keep handy."