July 20, 2010
Quinn eases the Expedition down the long and winding driveway that Maggie indicates leads to her home. The farm is sloppy on its fencing around the house itself, making her wonder how they've survived this long with walkers around. The sheer innocence shows a lack of common sense, dangerously so.
Then again, her view is colored by the quarry camp attack. They were more than a little sloppy there on security themselves. But dammit, they didn't have over a hundred head of cattle ringing the dinner bell like these people do. Walkers probably can't eat the cattle, not easily, but that just sends them looking for easier meals.
She glances at Maggie, who is curled up in the passenger seat and probably in a good amount of pain. The girl didn't want major painkillers, because she needs and wants to remain alert until she's back with her family. Quinn can't blame her for that.
With the nature of what the men, Jacqui, and Andrea are about to do in interrogating their captives, Quinn has all the children and their mothers with her. It crowds even the roomy SUV, but Louis doesn't look all that upset to be regulated to sitting in his mother's lap in the rearmost seat.
The journey is a slow one because Maggie's horse is trotting alongside them. She knows the animal could probably have beaten them to her home by instinct and not needing to use roads. But it's a risk to the animal she isn't willing to take. Horses are more flighty and fragile than cattle. Rick already proved how vulnerable a lone horse can be, back in Atlanta.
Harper's happy enough to coax the mare along, reins in her hands through the open window. She wanted to ride, but no matter how expert the girl is, Quinn's not putting her eleven-year-old on a horse out in the open in this world. It was hard enough to deem Jesse and Micah old enough to stay behind, even with Xander to protect Micah like he always has in all his doggie devotion.
"You're sure your father will speak before he reacts?" she asks. They can see the farmhouse now and a couple of figures on the porch.
"Yeah. He's about as non-violent as they come." Maggie's leaning forward now, anxious to be home.
"When I stop, I'm going to let you get out and explain. Harper, you can turn the horse loose when we do."
Quinn sees her daughter's head bob in agreement from where she sits directly behind her, with Sophia in the middle and Carol behind Maggie.
"No one else leaves the truck unless we're invited."
Murmurs of assent settle Quinn's nerves a little, and she eases the truck to a stop where Maggie doesn't have far to walk.
The height of the truck proves an issue for Maggie, and Quinn sighs. Luckily, a white haired man moves forward, looking concerned. Quinn strapped Maggie's arm to her chest, immobilizing the broken collarbone because there isn't much else to be done for it.
"Maggie, what happened? Did the horse throw you?"
"No, she didn't. I was attacked, and Quinn's people helped me."
Kindly eyes look Quinn's way, but despite the seeming softness of the man, she notes he scans what he can see of the interior. Women and children are unlikely to set off warning bells in a man like Hershel Greene. He's lucky, this time, that they have no ill intent. Women and kids are dangerous in their own right, given the proper tools and circumstances.
"Thank you for helping Maggie. Was it one of the sick ones?"
The terminology baffles Quinn at first, but she shakes her head. "Plain human males."
The elder man isn't so naive as to not understand the emphasis on male. Real alarm blooms in his expression as he eases Maggie to the ground. A blond teenage boy is trying to catch the loose horse, to no avail.
"It's okay, Daddy," Maggie soothes. "They were stopped in time."
That's one way of putting it, but Quinn's well familiar with the experience that the attempt is as traumatic as the act, in different ways.
"She has a broken collarbone for certain and possibly a zygomatic fracture, but that'll take an X-ray to confirm," Quinn tells him. He has better training than she does, as a vet. "The rest seems to be scrapes and contusions. We have some medicine for her, but she wanted to stay alert until we got here."
By tomorrow, Maggie's face is likely to be a mass of color, as well as other places, like her wrists. The girl took a a beating, fighting back the way she did, but Quinn can't blame her.
"You have medical training?" A woman comes forward, coaxing Maggie toward the house, promising a shower.
"Paramedic, before. Seems even more necessary these days."
The older man nods, accepting the bag she passes him through the window. "You aren't from around here."
"No, further north, near the mountains." She knows that even after more than a decade in Georgia, her accent isn't quite right, but she opts for home rather than origin. "We're heading west, to see if Fort Benning survived what Atlanta didn't."
It's not their entire destination, since she agrees with their former military that Benning probably fell, too. But it's enough to soothe the oldtimer.
He understands what she's imparting, because he nods and clears his throat. "I should offer hospitality to your people, at least for the night. For what you did for my daughter."
"This is just a small part of our group," she cautions. "Just most of the women and children."
He doesn't really want to expand the offer, but he looks toward the children and gives an abrupt nod. "A day or two to rest should be fine."
"Alright. We can set up camp over there in the open field, if that's good." He nods.
Maggie hoped for this, hoping outside viewpoints will convince her father of the danger in the world outside their farm. Quinn's people don't need the rest, but they can at least try to help Maggie out. Saving her now to see her fall victim to the next round of bandits or a larger group of walkers seems irresponsible.
She reaches for the radio mike, glad that they're in range. Dale takes the message and tells her they'll be there before dark.
"If the children want to gather on the porch, we can see about some snacks and drinks." She can tell the man's anxious to get to the house and his injured daughter, but afraid to go at the same time.
"Drinks would be appreciated, but they have snacks." Quinn gives a little nod when Carol meets her eyes in the mirror. The other woman opens her door, which signals Harper to do so as well.
While Hershel had an idea of how many visitors, she can tell the others are a little overwhelmed when there are four women and five children there. The kids are happy enough to sprawl in the grass for now, glad to be out of the confines of a vehicle.
Quinn introduces everyone, taking careful note of faces to the names Maggie already explained.
Otis, a volunteer firefighter and EMT, gives off a teddy bear vibe stronger than Dale does. Jimmy, typically teenage boy, who dismisses all the younger children easily, even when Harper goes to help him catch the cranky mare. Beth - who is such a wide-eyed innocent that Quinn fears for her in the old and new worlds.
She'll figure Patricia out later, but she likes the quiet competence she showed in getting Maggie out of everyone's line of sight.
Hershel watches the children with a sort of absentminded fondness that reassures Quinn of their safety here. Beth distributes glasses of iced sweet tea with Carol and Lori's help. He turns to Quinn, after listening for something in the house.
When Quinn concentrates, she can hear a shower running still.
"How many others?"
"My boys, both about Jimmy's age. Nine men, two women. Two of the men were cops, one married to Lori. Another of the men is Miranda's husband. Two are cousins of mine."
A dozen new people plus the nine already here would be overwhelming even in better times. But Hershel just nods.
"I would prefer that weapons not be carried on the property."
Quinn shifts, uneasy about being completely unarmed. "With men like that out there, you have to understand that I don't like the idea of my people completely unprotected."
Even now, she's fully armed down to her recharged stun gun. That's less obvious than her gun, though, or the larger knife on her belt.
The idea of the men makes him pause. "Perhaps the officers and yourself could continue to carry firearms."
"We can work with that. We keep a watch at all times. The watch stander will be armed with a rifle, but only on watch. Several of our people carry bows and almost everyone has knives."
"Hunting implements are acceptable. It's far more difficult to have a fatal accident with those."
Quinn knows it will make the others uneasy to give up their guns, but it'll be a good lesson that they need to learn the quieter weapons. She nods. "True enough."
The shower shuts off and Hershel flinches. "Otis? Can you fetch the portable X-ray from my work truck?"
The portly man heads off toward an old pickup. Quinn watches as Hershel's hands tighten on the porch railing.
"She'll be okay. There will be nightmares, and she's going to be angry and weepy, sometimes separately and sometimes both at once. But from what little I've seen, she's a survivor."
Those eyes are a little too knowing when the old vet looks at Quinn. "It sounds like you speak more from professional experience. Perhaps you can speak with her? I don't think a man like myself has the appropriate vocabulary."
"I can, if she's willing. But one thing I can tell you is that lacking that knowledge every female past puberty has that being assaulted is probable instead of just possible isn't a strike against you. Even when her mind goes down the darkest paths, I imagine you're going to feel like the safest person in the world for her."
Hershel takes the suitcase sized equipment from Otis. Halfway to the door, he pauses, looking back to where Quinn is leaning on the railing for the porch steps.
"Did you have a father to stand as that for you?"
She smiles sadly and shakes her head. "I had no one, at first, but eventually I did."
It's the root of the relationship between her and Merle that she knows confuses everyone. But it's not their right to know that her familial devotion is rooted in nightmares and flashbacks where he was her anchor back as much as she is his when his damaged mind wins out over his free will.
Hershel accepts the vague answer and goes inside the house. Times like this, Quinn wishes she smoked like Daryl does. Day drinking is a little more redneck than she's willing to display right now.
"We're still staying, right?" Carol asks. Behind her, Lori and Miranda look a little anxious. Beth is with the children, explaining the farm and enrapturing them with tales of horses, chickens, and cows.
"Just a day or two, but yes, for Maggie's sake." She explains the discomfort the man has with guns. Carol and Lori are both armed, but Lori takes both their guns to the Expedition and puts them in the console. For all her initial protest about the women learning and carrying at the horse farm, Quinn has to hide a smile when Lori's hand rubs at her hip where her holster was.
"She's going to be okay, isn't she?" Lori asks. Quinn thinks it's genuine concern, not the falsity she displays more often than not. She wonders, sometimes, how much of Lori's interactions with the world are couched in 'because you're supposed to'.
"Most likely." Because there are never any guarantees, and for all the impression of tempered steel she gets from the girl, Quinn doesn't truly know her. She's been a peer counselor long enough to know sometimes stronger people break and the fragile ones rebuild their psyche and defy the odds.
"Can I take the kids to see the horses?" Beth asks. "The stable is just right there."
Quinn notes the building's location and that she can see anything approach and agrees. Jimmy hasn't returned since he took the mare there, so she assumes he's brushing the faithful animal down. "Y'all best do as Miss Beth says."
Five little heads nod enthusiastically, and in the end, Miranda goes with them, expressing curiosity about what a stable is really like.
Otis is nowhere in sight, but she imagines the man has his hands full with chores on a place this size.
Quinn takes a seat on the steps, fiddling with the cuff of her shirt sleeve. Carol sits beside her, while Lori leans on the end of the side railing.
"It's too open, isn't it?" Lori says. "My skin almost crawls."
The horse farm was wide open like this, but there they had the protection of the massive stable. Here, Quinn agrees with the uneasy feeling gripping the skinny woman.
"I think it's the feeling they haven't changed a thing or done anything to protect themselves."
Carol frowns, looking around slowly. Quinn can see the wheels turning like she's been training with Daryl and Merle. "A large enough herd would even swarm the house, right?"
"Easily. All the glass in an old farmhouse like this is great for sunlight, dangerous for any defense. Hopefully, their luck will hold and Dr. Greene will listen."
"And if he doesn't?" Lori asks, rubbing at her arms as if she's cold.
"Then we leave them to their own choices. I know there are two kids here, but we can't make them abandon their home if they don't see the danger."
The possibility of assimilating the farm residents appeals, because even as a vet, Hershel is far more experienced than Quinn can ever hope to be. She just doesn't know if Maggie's attack will be enough to tip the scales into the new reality for him.