July 15, 2010
After the thrill of realizing his family is safe, that Shane saved them, Rick's mind wanders as they sit gathered around the fire pit. Merle, Quinn, and the kids he isn't sure are whose have their own fire in a little sub-camp. Unlike the main fire, theirs reflects very little light, encircled by a stone circle higher than the firewood.
Merle looks half asleep in a camp chair, a dark-haired girl about Carl's age leaning against his legs as she plays Uno by firelight with a teenage boy and a blonde girl also sitting on the ground. The teenage boy resembles Merle enough that he's certainly a Dixon, but the little blonde looks nothing like anyone else.
Quinn is folding laundry, using the other camp chairs as laundry tables. A jet black German Shepherd looking dog dozes by her feet. He saw a grey-haired woman slip into one of the tents earlier.
Shane notices where his attention has drifted and laughs. "Brother, don't even try to figure that one out."
Carl shifts against Rick and huffs. "It's not that hard, if you just be polite."
Rick feels Lori stiffen before she moves away from his side to look down at Carl. "Tell me you haven't been playing with those kids, Carl."
"There's nothing wrong with them, Mom. I'm the only kid not allowed to play with them. And you let me play with Sophia before they moved over there."
Lori looks to Miranda and her husband as if betrayed. "They aren't the type for your kids to be playing with."
"Other than the boys being a little older, I don't see anything wrong with them," Morales says. "Harper, Eliza, and Sophia get along well since they are all about the same age, and all of them are patient with Louis."
Rick thinks he might want to intervene before Lori causes the sort of tempest she was known for back home. "How old are the kids?"
Carl answers, glancing at his mother with a puzzled expression. "Harper is eleven and Jesse is fourteen. Micah's seventeen, but he's their uncle, not their brother. They used to be from Louisiana. Sophia's twelve, but she and her mama aren't Dixons. Her mama went to bed already."
"And where are Micah's parents?" Dale asks. Rick thinks this may be the most detail any of the adults have gotten, from the expressions he sees.
"He and Quinn don't have the same mom, just the same dad. He died when Micah was a kid and he's lived with Quinn ever since."
"What about Merle?" Rick asks, curious.
The boy squirms a little, as if realizing he's maybe sharing personal information he shouldn't, but a nudge from Rick makes him continue. "He's a cousin somehow. Merle's grandpa is Quinn's great-grandpa."
Well, that explains why they looked a little weird when he asked about them being married. He wouldn't want anyone thinking he married his cousin either. It also explains why she was willing to shoot him when she thought Merle was in danger.
"They pulled into camp here about a week after Atlanta was bombed," Shane explains. "Wasn't sure about them at first, because Merle sure as hell doesn't give a good impression, and neither does his brother.
"But once I saw there were kids with them, I wasn't putting them back out on the road. The kids are damned polite, and Quinn generally gets along with everyone. Jesse, the teenager Carl mentioned, isn't in camp. He's out hunting with Merle's brother, Daryl."
"Overnight?" Rick isn't sure about camping before there were dead up and walking. A man and a teenager out on their own in this seems risky.
"Bigger game is getting scarce closer into camp, the Dixons say, so they were planning on tracking further out. They rotate hunting usually, one of the adults and one of the kids going out. Whoever's left usually does a forage for plants and mushrooms in the morning, and Quinn does runs with Glenn every other day."
Shane gestures toward the dog. "Figured having a dog's senses around can't hurt. They keep him fed off the parts we don't eat and any leftovers we don't finish. I think even he's getting sick of squirrels though." Everyone laughs at that.
"They aren't the only ones in a separate camp," Rick notes, glancing towards a lone male that also has his own fire. Unlike the Dixons' happy domestic scene, this man looks half-drunk and sullen.
"That's Ed. He's an abusive bastard, but I haven't thrown him out of camp because I'd rather keep an eye on him than have him wandering around, maybe sneaking back in," Shane explains.
"He's a useless asshole, but he feeds himself off MREs and the Dixons took in his wife and daughter after Merle beat the shit out of him for knocking Carol around. Sophia, the little blonde girl over there, that's his daughter. Her mama, Carol, already went to bed."
Rick makes a mental note to keep an eye on the man. At least Merle, with his obvious PTSD issues, has someone who can talk him down. Man like Ed Peletier only has fear of other men to make him balk.
Movement at the Dixon fire draws his attention back. The card game is finished, although how much of that was the game ending and how much was Quinn dropping stacks of clothes unceremoniously on her family members remains to be seen. She's heading toward their fire now, a stack still in her arms.
Without the long sleeves she wore in the city, he can see her arms are covered in intricate tattoo work. He can't get a good look in the firelight, but he glimpses a lot of purple and cursive text among wildlife and flowers. It's like she turned her arms into little gardens.
Standing next to Shane, he notices her skin is at least two shades darker than his best friend's. It's another mystery, with Merle's racist ranting, because he would bet his now missing deputy's hat that Quinn's biracial.
"Took yours the other day so Carol wasn't looking after half the camp," Quinn says, handing Shane the clothes. "A few of you fellas could do with a lesson in how to wash your own dirty underwear."
"The men are needed to keep us safe," Lori interjects.
"Or you could quit pretending it's the fifties and you're some sort of delicate princess," Quinn replies. She's still wearing the shoulder holster from earlier, and Rick wonders if she's always armed, like Merle and Shane are, as well as the older Dixon boy.
"Not that I ever recall seeing you down at the lake washing so much as a single sock. Maybe with your husband back, you'll stop treating Carol as your personal maid. Next time I see you dump your laundry in her basket, I'm going to set the shit on fire."
Lori is so angry she looks like she is going to choke on it. Quinn just sets her hands on her hips, her entire posture just daring the woman to challenge her. Rick looks around the others and surprisingly, finds little sympathy from the other women and the men trying their best to look invisible.
"I help with laundry!"
"Prissing around hanging one shirt to everyone else's four or five isn't helping, unless you're a preschooler. It's looking busy so someone doesn't ask you to do something else."
Dale frowns, but looks concerned about Quinn, not Lori. "Did something happen in camp today? I checked in with the kids for you."
"Only a certain overprivileged woman trying to convince my eleven-year-old daughter that she's not appropriately feminine because she and Micah were fishing when she dumped even more laundry off on Carol and Sophia. Talk to Harper like that again, Mrs. Grimes, and I'll show you exactly how inappropriately masculine my response will be."
Rick's pretty sure the threat's a valid one, and it's not going to end like some high school girl fight with slapping and hair pulling if she does go after Lori.
Quinn heaves a sigh. "Carol's got enough on her plate without you using her to skip out on chores. You're worse than Ed, because you're taking advantage of that damage he's done to her self-esteem all these years. I tried to let her handle it, but you dragged my kids into it today, so now I'm making it my business."
Lori is gaping, seeming at a loss for words.
"If it's a problem, I can take care of my own laundry," Shane manages, looking between Lori and Quinn. Rick isn't sure if he's trying to play peacemaker between them or just afraid he'll get drawn into the fight.
"I don't mind if we're already going down there and you're busy. But other than Glenn and the men from my own family, all of y'all seem to think a magic fairy is washing your socks. Just make sure you know who that magic fairy is and thank her appropriately."
"We'll make sure to do that," Dale says, voice gentle. He actually wins a smile off the young woman, who pats him on the shoulder before fishing down the front of her shirt and tossing Rick his handcuffs and keys.
"Might want to keep those safe, deputy. Glenn, come see me for breakfast." She's gone as fast as she arrived.
"Why the hell does she have your handcuffs in her bra?" Lori sputters. "What happened in Atlanta today?"
Rick knows he's blushing, especially with the questioning looks from those who weren't in Atlanta. "It's not like it sounds." He summarizes what happened, trying for neutrality in the tale.
"So, what I'm hearing is that Rick stirred up the walkers, and everybody but Merle forgot Quinn wasn't in the building?" Dale asks.
Glenn looks sheepish, but nods. "It's a miracle if she's willing to go on a supply run with me again. At least I think that's why I'm invited for breakfast. It'll suck if she won't pair with me again because she's the only one who can climb like I do."
"You two normally do the supply runs?" Rick asks, remembering Shane implying that. But even as a pair, it's got to be a nerve wracking job.
"Yeah. We take her SUV a ways in, park it, and use the backpacks to haul loads back and forth to the SUV. A lot of the buildings have roof access and it's safer to move across the tops of the buildings when we can. Not everyone can manage the height."
Shane shifts. "I asked them to take the extra people this trip because we were hoping to get some necessities from that department store and do it fast. No one here packed clothing to survive months away from home, except maybe Dale."
"How did Quinn end up outside the building?"
"Quinn was on foot to scout and maybe raid the hotel and she was going to grab one of those work trucks from the construction lot that we ended up going to. Just without all the walker guts involved."
"That reminds me. Anyone get those supplies from her when we got back?" Jacqui asks. "She did a good job cleaning out the ladies' essentials in the amenities storeroom. I'd bet she stuffed a couple hundred tampons in that thing, plus some other hygiene stuff."
"Bag's sitting over there by her camp chair," Glenn points out. "You wanna go get it?"
No one seems willing, so Rick figures the holy grail of women's products will just stay in the Dixon camp for now.
Carl yawns broadly and Rick laughs. "How about we get you off to bed, son?"
And that's the best part of his day. He can offer to put his son to bed, even if it's in a tent in a quarry. He can't imagine a better end to his confusing, horrifying week out of the coma.