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- - - - - - - - - - - - - DARYL - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Daryl and Merle had done a lot of dumb things when they were kids. Their schooling was fine and all, but they were both troublemakers and Merle was expelled from High School. Daryl, somewhat more sensible than his brother, at least stuck it out. But when they were kids school didn't matter as much. It's the woods that mattered. They grew up in a small town barely two hundred strong; his next-door neighbors were his grandparents. Their daddy was a drunkard, as was their grandpa (Papa), but their momma was a good city woman who'd fallen in love with Dad and stayed. Their dad was always gung-ho about them learning all about the wilds, but Momma wouldn't have any of it, now allowing them to hold guns until they were preteens. Naturally, Merle got to hold guns first; made Daryl jealous.
When they were younger, though, the brothers were always together. They made up their own games in the woods. One such game involved their knives; it was a truth or dare game Merle made up partly to assert his leadership over his younger brother. It involved throwing a knife at a beehive and retrieving said knife.
The brothers always decided fairly who should go first. But Daryl always lost at rock-paper-scissors. By the time he usually went, the bees were always infuriated, so Merle always found ways to skip his turn. The 'game' taught Daryl to throw knives straight—the more he missed the hive the longer the game went on, to be quick about retrieving the knife—the longer he took the more possibility it was that the bees would sting him, and to be quick about leaving the hive for safety.
The worst part wasn't throwing the knife and seeing the bees swarm angrily, the worst part was when the knife got so stuck in the hive that he couldn't just yank it free. And Merle would deck him if he didn't return with the knife. Deck him and make him go back anyway. He learned quickly that sticking your hand into a beehive full of angry, swarming bees was the absolute worst thing to ever happen to someone. That is, of course, 'till them damn walkers came along. After the first few times, Momma decided to stop the nonsense and told Merle never to let Daryl stick his hands in the hives again.
This was exactly like those times. He didn't throw a knife into this hive, and these people were more like slavering hounds than bees, but it was the same type of thing. You provoke the hive and you provoke the wrath of a million stinging insects. Except these were people. With guns. Dammit.
Daryl had never willingly allowed himself to surrender, but he had to tell himself that he wasn't actually surrendering anything. This plan was a fucking good plan and Daryl commended Rick for that. Sure, they might as well die anyway if this plan failed, but it sure as hell beat being eaten by those dead walking mofos just so they could become one when they died. Still, shuffling into the bee's lair, shotgun placed firmly onto Mexican Kid's back, Daryl felt that tingling feeling crawling up and down his arms like his arms were crawling with bees, stingers ready. He shook the feeling off as best he could for he knew exactly how well a bullet could punch through skin. He didn't like how many guns were pointed at him.
However, he was following Rick. Rick knew what he was doing, Daryl hoped.
"I see my guns," Bossman said, surrounded by his homie fools. Probably thought he was all super special because he had a lot of men. What he didn't know was that Daryl could probably kill over half of them before they'd cocked their guns. Rick could take out the other half. T-Dog probably couldn't even hit an elephant with his. But these people were like bees; their hive was twice as big as imagined and more would come.
"But they're not all in the bag." Bossman continued. Well, shit, Bossman could see.
Rick looked incredibly serious when he declared, "That's because they're not yours. I thought I mentioned that."
Daryl raised his shotgun to Mexican Kid's head when Arrow-Ass tried to talk nonsense to Bossman. But he just as quickly shifted his footing to aim the barrel at Arrow-Ass when he moved forward menacingly. Straight-faced, Daryl wanted to show them that he didn't fuck with anyone. Bossman quieted him down, though, and Daryl gave him a little smirk. Fuck yes, that is why Rick and Bossman were leaders. They could talk anyone into doing what they wanted.
Bossman told Rick he wasn't clear of the situation and Rick answered back that he was, in fact, pretty clear. Then, the former sheriff cut Mexican Kid's ties and Daryl forced himself to point the gun back on Arrow-Ass even though he really, really wanted to shoot Mexican Kid in the face. Rick said he'd given Mexican Kid back, now he wanted 'his' man back.
Bossman thought about that for a moment and Daryl could see his teeth chomping together as he mulled over the possibilities. Finally: "I'm gonna chop up your boy. I'm gonna feed him to my dogs." He stepped forward, trying to look all intimidating or some sort of shit. "They're the evilest, nastiest man-eating bitches you ever saw. I picked them up from Satan at a yard sale." Daryl highly doubted that. If they'd had the dogs, then they would have brought them out in plain view. That's what he woulda done. "I told you how it has to be," Bossman continued, "Are you woefully deaf?"
Daryl would have lost it right there with that Mexican running his mouth, spitting in his face. But Rick only took his own step forward. "No, my hearing's fine. You said come locked and loaded."
Rick primed his gun and Daryl was only a second off-beat, echoing him. T-Dog was somewhere, too, prolly hiding (the stupid Black Man), but he could hear another gun ready and it wasn't the Mexican's poor excuse for weaponry. They all jumped, too, of course. Like the bees knowing their Queen was going to die. Daryl smiled as he advanced a couple steps just waiting for an order.
But Rick continued, pointing his gun at Bossman's face. "Okay then, we're here."
Standoff. Daryl hated standoffs just about as much as he hated whiney people. No one was whining here, but of course, if he could just get a shot in, quite a few people would be whining. Or dead. Didn't matter much for him so long as he was the one still alive and standing. Too bad he didn't realize just how many guns these Mexicans had. Probably looted them; that was probably why he couldn't find any damn guns in the city. Fuck Mexicans.
Suddenly, from behind the congregation of testosterone, a woman's voice called shakily for a dude named Felipe. Daryl caught a glimpse of her before she pushed her way through the men. The fuck? What was an old woman doing here? Arrow-Ass told his 'abuela'—Daryl had an idea that that word meant grandmother—to go back with the others. Not letting up but not pointing the gun at the old woman because she wasn't the one holding a gun to his face, Daryl nevertheless sidestepped so he was closer to Rick. Back him up.
"Get that old lady out of the line of fire!" He growled out, not wanting to hit the woman. He didn't hit women; he wasn't no Merle, and he sure as hell didn't want anyone that old to be dead by his hand.
Bossman tried to reason with the lady but she would have none of it as old people often didn't. She ignored Bossman and told 'Felipe,' though Daryl liked the name Arrow-Ass better, that Mr. Gilbert needed 'asthma stuff.' Medicine. Rick lowered his gun which made Daryl tighten his grip on his. He'd still make sure the group would be safe in this beehive.
Suddenly, the old granny asked who 'those men' were and moved into his line of fire. Obediently, respectfully, Daryl lowered his gun. Couldn't understand a lick of Spanish those men said, but the old lady was kind enough to speak in good-ol-fashioned American English. But she was obviously confused.
"Don't you take him!" She exclaimed, rounding on Rick.
Rick shuffled his feet confusedly, "Ma'am?"
"Felipe's a good boy." She answered in that weird, shaky old lady voice. "He have his trouble but he pull himself together. We need him here."
Daryl thought the old woman had lost her mind. She seriously thought that Rick was a sheriff. Still a sheriff, 'cuz he had been a sheriff at one time. But, yet again, this was why Rick was the leader. He answered her easily enough: "Ma'am, I'm not here to arrest your grandson."
"Then what do you want him for?" Granny asked. Daryl growled under his breath. He wanted Arrow-Ass dead.
Rick was a quick-thinker, though. "He's… helping us find a missing person. Fella named Glenn."
"The Asian boy? He's with Mr. Gilbert." Granny answered. Daryl had to give her a bit of respect 'cuz she'd called him Asian. If she woulda called him Chinaman, he would've probably hugged her outright. 'Cept he might have been shot dead by her homies and Arrow-Ass. Anyway, Granny grabbed Rick's hand and said, "Come. Come, I show you. He needs his medicine."
Bossman looked defeated—which Daryl delighted in—and shook his head while he said, "Let 'em pass."
Even Arrow-Ass let Daryl pass. Daryl even came within inches of the homie as he tried to follow as close as he could to Rick. He got led out of the garage into a side street that looked like it'd been overrun with plants even before the world ended. Up a flight of stairs. To the back of a building into a backyard that looked like it was bein' converted into a garden. Into the back of the building. And inside the building, old people.
The fuck?
Arrow-Ass stepped forward and spoke in Spanish then asked her to take him to the ailing man. Daryl wanted to rush forward and find Glenn—hell, even if he wasn't Merle, he wouldn't leave Glenn behind—but realized he might actually be better off with Rick. Besides, he didn't really like old people. They smelled funny even when they were clean. Granny led them to a room that looked like it doubled as a cafeteria and more room for sleeping. There were a lot of old people and even some homies clustered around one man. And, good Lord thank you, Glenn. Daryl maneuvered so he could be close to the Asian man and looked at the doctor people as they helped an old man breathe.
Rick asked what was on Daryl's mind. "What the hell is this?"
Glenn, however, was a stupid dolt. "An asthma attack. Couldn't get his breath all of a sudden."
Rick prolly didn't want that answer. But it was T-Dog who spoke up. "I thought you were being eaten by dogs, man."
Glenn glanced somewhere and Daryl followed his line of vision. Oh hell. Those dogs were going to kill someone's… ankles, if they could reach them. Daryl hated little dogs. And these people had three of them. Little rats full of shit, barking their heads off at them. Man, fuck Arrow-Ass, he'd shoot those rats any day. Any day meaning right now, this instant. While Daryl was thinking about killing the rats—seriously, they weren't even 1 percent the hellhounds those bitch homies made 'em out to be—Rick took Bossman to the side. Daryl tried to listen in, but they whispered so well that he gave up.
"Gave me a scare, y'know." Daryl growled to Glenn who smiled sheepishly. "Why'd ya get on th' roof, 'nyway?"
"They wanted it to be convincing." Glenn shrugged and shifted his feet. "They did promise they wouldn't throw me over the side. It was still scary up there."
"Damn, Glenn." T-Dog laughed, shaking his head and wiping the sweat off his upper lip. "We really thought you was in trouble."
"Only one in trouble here was Mr. Gilbert." Glenn said and Daryl looked back at the old man who wasn't in trouble anymore. "They're good people."
"Badass homies, 's what they are." Daryl muttered and Glenn and both T-Dog looked at him. He shrugged and shouldered his rifle, wishing for his crossbow instead of this stupid shotgun. "What? Just 'cuz they like watchin' old people don't mean I gotta like 'em."
T-Dog just looked at him and Glenn shook his head. Just then, Rick called them over and the five of them, Bossman included, walked into a separate room. When he'd set the guns down on some hoedown crappy old person couch, Rick asked, "What about the rest of your crew?"
"The vatos trickle in to check on their parents and grandparents. They see how things are and most decide to stay. It's a good thing, too. We need the muscle. The people we've encountered since things fell apart, the worst kind—plunderers, the kind that take by force." Bossman said. Daryl wrinkled his nose as he listened. He saw a lot of white folk old people but had yet to see an actual white folk young person save for a few nurses. And where the hell were the other women?
"That's not who we are." Rick said.
"How was I to know? My people got attacked and you show up with Miguel hostage—appearances." Bossman reasoned.
Hell, it wasn't no appearance for Daryl, not when his group's life was on the line. But it was T-Dog who thought clearer: "Guess the world changed."
"No." Daryl glanced back to Bossman as the Mexican spoke. "It's the same as it ever was. The weak get taken. So we do what we can here. The vatos work on those cars, talk about getting the old people out of the city. But most can't even get to the bathroom by themselves, so that's just a dream. Still, it keeps the crew busy and that's worth something. So we barred all the windows, welded all the doors shut except for one entrance. The vatos, they go out. Scavenge what they can to keep us going. We watch the perimeter night and day and we wait. The people here, they all look to me now. I don't even know why."
"Because they can." Rick answered. Daryl had an inkling of what the former sheriff meant. He wasn't surprised that Rick handed Bossman his shotgun, reached in the bag for a few other guns and some ammo, and gave that to Bossman, too. Didn't like it none, of course. But Rick had taken charge and not even T-Dog complained.
Bossman didn't say thank you, but he didn't need to. Daryl could see how a weight had lifted off of his back. Perhaps he sorta felt for this guy, but they weren't ever going to be friends. If they ever met each other again, that is. Bossman suggested that they leave as quick as they could and Daryl seconded the idea.
"Seriously, you seen a white man looks like me?" Daryl asked Bossman while he was checking the guns.
"I told you before, we don't have white men, but we haven't seen any like you, either." Bossman answered.
"What Daryl's trying to say is he's prettier than his brother. Merle's uglier. Seen any ugly white men?" Glenn asked. Daryl shot him a look like 'I'm going to pay you back one day,' and Glenn just shrugged.
"Naw, no one's seen anyone like you." Bossman lifted his shoulders in his own shrug.
"Maybe he left," Rick answered. "Left the whole city."
"Wouldn't put it past him," Daryl grinned, "He's Merle Fuckin' Dixon. He can survive anything."
He said this lightheartedly, or about as lightheartedly as he could get it, but on the inside, he hated that Rick had given away good guns.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - DARYL- - - - - - - - - - - - -
They made good time back. Glenn was talking the whole way and more than once Daryl told him to shut up. He didn't listen, of course, kept chattering like any Asian man. He didn't talk nothing about Merle, though. Daryl could give him that. He did touch on how stupid walkers were, how Guillermo (apparently that was Bossman's name) was actually a pretty cool guy. T-Dog and Rick offered their opinions sometimes, but mostly it was just Chinaman jabbering on about something or other. He'd started long before they got out of walker range, too. Some started following them and Daryl had to shoot them with his crossbow.
When they were nearing the bus marking the edge of the city after nearly five minutes of silence from Asian, he finally lost the Silence Game. "Admit it; you only came back to Atlanta for the hat."
"Don't tell anybody." Rick jested back.
Daryl couldn't hold it in any longer. "You've given away half our guns and ammo."
"Not nearly half."
"For what? Bunch of old farts who are gonna die off momentarily anyhow? Seriously, how long you think they got?"
"How long do any of us?" Rick answered sagely like he was Old Man.
They rounded the edge of the bus. It was Rick who stopped first, who noticed the truck gone. He stopped second and clenched his teeth hard.
"Oh my God." Asian muttered and for once Daryl agreed.
"Where the hell's our van?" He asked, not caring if he was stating the question on everyone's mind or not.
"We left it right there. Who would take it?" Glenn continued as if Daryl hadn't spoken at all.
"Merle." Rick answered.
Oh shit. Of course it would be Merle. At least it was Merle. Meant Merle was still alive. "He's gonna be taking some vengeance back to camp."
"Well, we don't have a car. We're going to have to work to get there by morning." Rick said after a short silence. "We'd best get started."
T-Dog groaned, "Aren't there other cars?"
"After what Asian did yesterday with that red one?" Daryl scoffed, "Won't wanna risk that again."
Glenn glared at him, but Rick was already walking. Walking quickly. As if he was fixing to run. "Losing sunlight, guys."
Without much else to do, Daryl followed the former sheriff. Not surprisingly, the others followed after.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - ANDREA - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Where the hell was that wrapping paper? She'd sworn she'd seen some here somewhere. She tried opening a few drawers and in her speed she nearly broke one of the drawers, only realizing her mistake when she noticed something caught under the drawer. Maneuvering it out of the way, Andrea was finally able to pull the drawer out but there was nothing there that she was searching for. She closed that drawer and opened the one above it; she took out what looked like fancy napkins. She mussed with the plastic wrapping but put it back and slammed the drawer a bit harder than she should have.
She noted Dale walking up the stairs as she opened up another drawer on the opposite side of the RV. "Wrapping paper, color tissue, anything?"
"Seriously?" Dale asked.
Andrea looked through the cabinets over the sink, "How can you not have any?"
"Had I been informed of the impending apocalypse I'd have stocked up." Dale mused.
Though Andrea immediately felt sorry, she persisted. "It's Amy's birthday tomorrow. I've been marking days on the calendar just to make sure."
As she spoke, she opened her hand, revealing the necklace she'd pretty much stolen the day she met Rick. Yesterday. Oh, God. That was only yesterday but it felt so long ago. Nowadays, every day seemed like an eternity. Dale put his glasses onto his nose and inspected the little mermaid closely. She was very proud of getting it even though she'd felt bad for taking it yesterday. But, as it was, yesterday felt like a year away now. She was literally jittery with her happiness at finding such a wonderful thing.
"You don't give a gift unwrapped." She exclaimed, shrugging.
"Deep breath." Dale said as he handed back the mermaid necklace. "I'm sure I'll find something here."
He was smiling as he pushed past her and she smiled, too. She felt the need to say thank you, to start helping him, but she knew that she'd probably just be in the way. So she walked over to the seats and sat facing him. He rummaged around for a bit, searched in places that she hadn't thought of searching, and came up empty-handed.
"Sorry, Andrea." He said, shaking his head and raising his hands in defeat.
She crumpled but only a little bit. "Thanks, Dale."
He looked at her sadly for a few more seconds before exiting the RV. She continued to sit there for quite some time, looking around more, looking to see if she could spy a place where she or Dale hadn't previously looked. She gave up momentarily, knowing that it was no use. Perhaps she'd use the napkin anyway… but then she'd be using a napkin with little need. Wouldn't do to use something for something so minimally. Even if it was Amy's birthday.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - ANDREA - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The sun had set past the treeline and the night was very dark though the small light given by the fire allowed the group to see. They were clustered around the fire which had been given a higher wall of rocks so light wouldn't seep through. Although the fire was larger than most nights, it still wasn't large enough to give off much heat. This was good, though. Leftover heat from the day kept them all happily warm, even if it was a sticky, humid heat. Andrea milked a beer as others chuckled to a joke. Sophia asked for more fish and all of a sudden everyone wanted some. The joking died down for a bit while everyone ate their fill.
"I've got to ask you, man. It's been driving me crazy." Morales asked finally from his seat by his wife.
"What?" Dale asked, and Andrea piqued up, interested.
"That watch."
Dale was smiling as he looked at it, touched it almost fondly. "What's wrong with my watch?"
"I see you every day, the same time, winding that thing like a village priest saying mass." Morales was smiling. Andrea, taking a bite out of fish, nodded her own agreement to the Mexican's words.
"I've wondered this myself." Jacqui agreed.
"I'm missing the point." Dale raised his hands in a sort of surrender.
"Unless I've misread the signs," Jacqui continued, pointing at the watch, "the world seems to have come to an end. At least hit a speed bump for a good long while."
"But there's you every day winding that stupid watch." Morales put in.
Andrea couldn't help but feel a sort of yearning to know the answer, too. She was smiling broadly, and Amy was giggling to herself. She glanced at Amy, but the younger woman just grinned as if she had a thought about the watch but no one could know it. Even Carl was laughing as he sat next to his mother, eating his fish. Jacqui was straight-faced, but Jacqui rarely smiled, usually about as much as Andrea when she wasn't around her sister.
"Time—it's important to keep track, isn't it?" Dale laughed out, spreading his arms in a wide gesture. "The days at least. Don't you think, Andrea?"
Andrea felt her blood pump quicker. She'd been silently agreeing with him, of course. She had to keep track of the days just to make sure she remembered Amy's birthday. She just smiled and shifted her eyes as if she hadn't heard him say her name. She didn't want him going around telling everyone that she kept track! She didn't want anyone to know, much less Andrea herself!
"Back me up here!" He almost pleaded. But she just chuckled as she picked up her beer in an attempt to allow herself to get off the hook. He just laughed and shook his head good-naturedly. She forgave him instantly; wasn't his fault he didn't know she didn't want a scene. He continued after a chuckle. "I like—I like what, um, a father said to son when he gave him a watch that had been handed down through generations. He said, 'I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine or my father's before me; I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you may forget it for a moment now and then and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it.'"
Everyone had fallen silent as if Dale had been a wise man who'd just given the most important speech of anyone's life. Even Jacqui had a faint smile on her face. As if the world hadn't ended after all. And Andrea didn't miss the look of knowing that passed between Shane and Lori simply because she was facing both of them. Though she tried to blend in the knowledge that she'd seen it with taking another small sip of her beer.
"You are so weird." Amy finally declared. The whole camp laughed. As if they'd been thinking the same thing.
"It's not me. It's Faulkner. William Faulkner. Maybe my bad paraphrasing." Dale countered genially. Amy sort of rolled her eyes and bit another bite of fish off of her spoon. Andrea smiled at her sister then took her own bite.
After taking a sip of her drink, Amy got up. Andrea looked up in surprise. "Where are you going?" She asked, immediately knowing that she sounded like their mother.
"I have to pee. Jeez, you try to be discreet around here." Amy retorted, which created more laughter. Everyone was in good spirits tonight. Andrea found her beer to be lacking now and she finished the last bit of it in a final swig. The group started laughing again at something Carl and Morales' boy did. Everything was normal.
From the RV, Amy called, "We're out of toilet paper?"
Dale twisted around, "Did you check under the sink?"
"Yeah, there wasn't anything there. Checked the cabinets above the sink, too." Amy yelled back. Then she screamed.
Andrea, still laughing at Carl's antics, turned around to see why her sister had made such a noise about toilet paper. And in an instant, her world ended.