Thanks for the reviews guys! I can't promise future chapters will be this quick, but I'm on a roll right now! Continue to review, please!
-ANDREA-
"They cut off its head and it was still.…" Amy mumbled as the two women retreated from group and headed back to camp. "It should have been dead… should have been more dead than it was before."
Andrea attempted to gather her thoughts. In the end, she sighed and rolled her shoulders. "Remember, Amy, no one stabbed the head. You've seen what happens before when their heads are left alone."
"Yeah, but I've never seen anything like that." Amy said, pointing behind her as if the walker was right behind them.
Andrea shrugged noncommittally. She wouldn't admit to her younger sister that what she'd seen had upset her stomach. She liked to believe that she'd become accustomed to seeing the walkers 'die' again, but no matter how much she told herself that, her body didn't listen. To her, it still felt the same as killing another human. Either way, she had to be strong for Amy because, like it or not, Amy was all she had left. The sisters didn't know if their father was alive, but Andrea didn't hold much hope for that dream coming true.
They fell into a comfortable silence as they walked back to camp. Amy and Andrea enjoyed spending time with each other no matter how small that time was. Gradually, the disgust and lingering fear from what they'd seen eased and Andrea realized how relieved she was when she heard the sounds of people bustling about in the camp. The first person who noticed them was Morales, who waved; Andrea waved back. But there would be no rest for the sisters, for Carol noticed them, too, and made a bee-line for them.
"You two planning on doing anything today?" Carol asked, to which the two girls shook their heads. "Would you be able to help Lori, Jacqui and I with the laundry?"
"I'll do it," Amy answered at once with a smile, always the first to help.
Andrea, on the other hand, grimaced. Being a woman meant doing 'woman' chores. Sure, she could bring in firewood and do hard labor like she was one of the guys, but when it came down to it, she'd be stuck with the rest of the women when it was time to do the laundry. She hated laundry more than she hated Merle.
Nevertheless, Andrea acted the part of the woman. "Sure, why not," she shrugged.
They followed Carol to the RV and met up with Lori, who was peeking into the RV probably checking in on the kids. No sooner had they reached the RV when Daryl burst from the woods calling to Merle. Andrea's stomach twisted and she folded her arms across her chest in response to the uncomfortable feeling. Daryl had no idea that she and the rest of the group had left Merle behind. And as soon as he figured it out, he began to make a scene.
Andrea didn't blame him.
If she had come back from who knows where to discover that Amy was gone, left behind on some mission, she would have probably done something about as drastic as he… minus the throwing the punches. She felt for Daryl, she really did, but Merle had had it coming for quite a while; even longer if what he'd said to build himself a higher pedestal of racism held true. That Daryl had no idea whether his brother was dead or alive made this ten times worse.
It was Rick Grimes, the newcomer Sheriff who happened to be Lori's once-thought-dead husband, who finally settled the dispute. There was a scuffle, and Andrea took an involuntary step backward, backing up into Amy as if defending her. Daryl had a knife out, but he was going up against Rick and Shane, and it became obvious within moments that both had worked with each other for a while. True to the Dixon name, Daryl wanted to kill someone—it was in his stance and in his eyes as far as Andrea could see—but after the brief tussle, he calmed down. Andrea had to give him credit: Merle probably would have gone on a rampage and killed them all.
T-Dog had come up, explained why it was his fault that they left Merle behind. Andrea felt a strange urge to add in her side of the story—in fact, she was fairly chewing her lip off to make sure she didn't speak up at the wrong time—but, like any other time, it was the men who settled it. Rick talked Daryl down calmly and acted every bit in charge of the situation even though Shane stood by him. As they walked around camp, Andrea saw how Shane followed him, and to her, it looked as if Rick was the leader. It wasn't hard to see they were planning another trip into the city, and he chose Glenn to go with them.
T-Dog added that he was going, too, because of his own reasons. Andrea almost jumped to join them but remembered her prior engagement. Wrinkling her nose, she nevertheless stayed in the conversation, offering a question about the walky-talkies ("So use the CB, what's wrong with that?"), but ultimately her decision was already laid out for her.
And she was not a laundry girl.
-ANDREA-
"I'm beginning to question the division of labor here." Jacqui muttered as she glanced over to where Shane and Carl played. Andrea looked at her with a smile. Jacqui had no idea.
The women brought their loads of laundry to the edge of the water in the quarry, took out a few pieces (with Jacqui still complaining and Amy commenting that the world had ended, where had she been), and sat on the plastic cartons set out for them. Within moments, Andrea's pants legs were soaked through and she knew her feet would be worse later as she commenced to scrubbing the first of the many clothes to come.
"I do miss my Maytag." Carol stated wistfully.
The first things that Andrea thought of were, "I miss my Benz… my sat nav."
Jacqui had a dreamy look on her face as she said, "I miss my coffeemaker with that dual drip filter and built in grinder, honey."
"My computer," Amy was ever the technological one, "and texting."
Andrea stopped and a strange smile came across her face. "I miss my vibrator." Said matter-of-factly, as if she should have thought of that first. Jacqui made an 'oooh,' noise and Carol actually stopped washing to look at her. Amy started giggling.
After a moment of silence came Carol's reply: "Me, too."
Something clicked inside Andrea, and she laughed. Actually laughed. It felt good to be laughing about something so absurd. But the moment wouldn't last, of course, and Carol's husband, almost as much of a son-of-a-bitch as the Dixons, flounced over and asked what was so funny.
"Just swapping war stories, Ed." Andrea offered the man, a smile still on her face. But it disappeared as she turned back and muttered, "Yeah," as she gave a disgusted look. She hated Ed, too.
He wouldn't give up. She glanced back at him and wished he would go away. "Problem, Ed?" She asked, not even trying to disguise the disgust in her voice.
"None that concerns you. You ought to be more focused on your work." He continued to Carol. "This ain't no comedy club."
Andrea scoffed. Had he really just down-talked Carol? What the hell was this guy's problem? What did Carol do to deserve this? More importantly, why the hell was Carol still taking this from him? He stood behind them for a while, smoking his little cigarette thing like he was some sort of boss overseeing a slave group. And Andrea just got more and more frustrated. Finally, despite her better judgment, she stood up and confronted him.
"Ed, tell you what." She said, her whole body manner meant to be imposing. "You don't like how your laundry's done, you are welcome to pitch in and do it yourself. Here." Said with a smile as she tossed him the wet shirt she'd been working on.
He promptly threw it right back; it splatted wetly on her neck, surprising her and only making her more angry. "Ain't my job, missy." He said, and she glared at him, flabbergasted.
"Andrea, don't." That might have come from Amy, but Andrea had had enough. She didn't care anymore. She didn't like Ed, and she would make it known.
"What is your job, Ed?" Andrea contested, walking closer to him. She had to look up to him, but she would get up in his damn face if it was the last thing she did. She felt like she was going up against a Dixon right now. "Sitting on your ass smoking cigarettes?"
"Sure isn't listening to some uppity smart-mouthed bitch, tell you what." He replied smoothly, and then looked at Carol, she assumed. "Come on, let's go."
"I don't think she needs to go with you anywhere, Ed." Andrea declared, stepping forward again to defend Carol.
"I say it's none of your business. Come on now, you heard me."
Andrea turned around, having had enough with Ed, and tried to appeal to Carol, who was actually listening to him like she was some trained puppy. When she tried to stop her, Carol mumbled something about it not mattering, and then Ed stepped forward with a "Hey, don't think I won't knock you on your ass just 'cus you some college educated cooze, alright. Now, you come on now or you gonna regret it later."
Ultimately, flabbergasted didn't cut it anymore. Even Jacqui cut in, asking about Carol showing up with fresh bruises. He laughed, like he was the king of the world. Andrea was sweltering with rage. "Stay out of this. Now come on! You know what? This ain't none of y'all's business." He said, all high and mighty.
"Y'all don't wanna keep proddin' the bull here, o-kay? Now I am done talkin'. Come on." He continued, this time physically grabbing Carol by the arm.
Andrea had finally had enough. "No," she said, along with protests coming from Jacqui and even Amy. Ed yelled something that Andrea didn't feel like deciphering from his underbred accent and slapped Carol across the face. That got her. "You asshole!" She yelled. She saw Amy move to protect Carol, but she'd let the rage overflow now.
The wet shirt was still in her hands, and she slapped him repeatedly with it, forcing him to bat her away in his attempt to recapture Carol. She was dimly aware of Jacqui fighting, too. They kept him away from Carol and she thought they might have the upperhand. Then, suddenly, Ed was dragged away and Shane was there. And Carol was crying (to which she put an arm around the woman, trying to console her while being unable to tear her own eyes away from Ed's beating), and Shane was punching Ed, and the girls started yelling for him to stop, and Andrea kept holding Carol.
Shane did stop, leaving Ed's face a bloody pulp and the man squandering on the ground like an injured child.
Carol broke free from her grasp and ran to Ed, crying that she was sorry. Andrea watched Shane go, but her mind was on Carol and Ed. What the ever-loving hell. Ed had just slapped her and promised a beating later, but Carol still went and consoled him, tried to get him to hurt less. Told him she loved him. Tried to tell him she was sorry. And Ed was lying there, cringing from the pain. For all the world ignoring the woman who tried to help him. Andrea wondered if Carol meant any of it, if she really was in love or if she was just afraid of what he'd do when no one was looking.
And right there, Andrea swore she'd never fall in love, least of all with a man like him.
-DARYL-
Sure, Daryl hated his brother sometimes, but shit, he didn't deserve this. He knew exactly what happened when T-Dog cut the door and he ran out calling Merle's name. Didn't see him. Saw the handcuffs where he'd been. Saw his hand. Daryl wasn't in control of his mouth when he yelled; when he paced he wasn't in control of his feet. Wasn't in control of his eyes when he cried out as he saw the bloody saw. It took him a while to calm down, to finally realize that his brother was not dead.
That strengthened his resolve more.
"You think you can track him?" Glenn asked, and Daryl shot him a look of pure hatred. Leave it to the damn Asian to ask the stupid question.
"Don't need to," Rick said and pointed, "He left a trail."
Blood. Merle's blood. His brother's blood. The coppery tinge of blood prickled his nose as they entered the door Merle had entered who knows how long before. He couldn't help but feel disgusted, not at the blood, but at the turn of events. But he knew he'd find his brother now. "Merle?"
"We're not alone here, remember?" Rick's voice sounded just like something a pesky little mite would sound. Who cared if they weren't alone. This was his brother, dammit.
Daryl decided not to ignore the know-it-all, Sheriff Obvious, and retorted dryly, "Screw that. He may be bleeding out, you said so yourself."
The smell of burning meat soon assailed his nose, and he entered a room that must have been a kitchen that had live flames flickering steadily on the oven. And a belt. And a flat piece of metal something or other that had once been used for cooking. Still was, judging by the burned skin and dried blood caking it. Only this cooking wasn't exactly the type of cooking Daryl felt like eating.
Glenn asked what the burned 'stuff' was and Rick answered the man with what Daryl already knew. Skin. Merle had cauterized the wound.
"Told ya he's tough." Daryl declared nonchalantly. Then he felt like springing even more to his brother's defense: "Nobody can kill Merle."
Rick vomited a bunch of words, but Daryl, ever the hunting man, spied where Merle went after he'd 'healed' himself: a broken window. The Asian got all upset about him leaving the building and Daryl seriously didn't feel like repeating the 'he's Merle so he can't fucking die' stint.
"Why would he?" He answered instead, "He's out there alone, s'far as he knows. He's gotta do what he's gotta do. Survivin'."
He walked away, already hot in pursuit of his brother, but picked up T-Dog's retort of, "You call that surviving? Just wandering out in the streets and maybe passing out? What are his odds out there?" and he stopped.
"No worse than bein' handcuffed and left to rot by you sorry pricks." Then he rounded on Rick. "An' you couldn't kill him. I ain't so worried about some dumb dead bastard."
Rick said something about a thousand dumb dead bastards, and he answered back telling Rick to take a tally and do what he wanted. He was going to go get his brother. Rick could kill all the damn walkers he wanted. Merle was his brother, not this Sheriff's, and he wanted to go now. But Rick held him back, pushing him away from the window.
"Get yer hands off me!" Daryl yelled, getting defensive. "You can't stop me!"
"I don't blame you; he's family, I get that. I went through hell to find mine. I know exactly how you feel. He can't get far with that injury. We can help you check a few blocks around, but only if we keep a level head." Rick said calmly.
Daryl saw the man's reasoning. He looked Rick straight in the eye, not exactly trusting him, but knowing that Rick would probably keep his promises. He got his breathing under control. Finally, he nodded curtly, "I can do that."
Then Blackie had to go and speak up about guns and good intentions. Daryl shot him a look but saw his point. Not everyone was as good with a crossbow as he was; not everyone liked close-combat fighting with knives like he did. He acquiesced. Merle was a tough son-a-bitch. He'd be alive when they found him and he wouldn't be bitten. Besides, they all might be less jumpy, except the Asian, who always seemed jumpy, if they had their hands around cold hard steel.
"Fine. Let's get us some guns." Daryl said and stepped aside mockingly, allowing Rick to go first.