Disclaimer: Not mine.
Thanks for the reviews! :)
Important Note: Edited 4/16 wording/typos and This: It occurred to me as I was re-watching the first half of season 4 that I made a Name Mistake with one of the original AMC characters when writing this story! I HATE when I do that! Drives me bonkers getting details wrong. Rar.
To clear up any confusion this might have caused Here goes: The little boy I mention surviving the prison with Lizzie, Mika and Molly on the Peacock Farm should be the AMC character named LUKE and not PATRICK.
I realized after re-watching the episode that Patrick is the older one that was friends with Carl and died with the killer swine flu of bloody doom. I can't believe I got that mixed up, no idea how I screwed that up. Ugh. -_-
I am resisting going back through all the chapters and changing the name from Patrick to Luke simply because of an OC later in the story I do not wish to create further name confusion with for readers.
So when this story mentions the little boy Patrick; please know I meant the very young blonde curly haired kid who couldn't have been more then 7 or 8 in the first half of season 4. He can be seen with Lizzie, Molly, Mika when they are chanting at the Walkers by the prison fence, when Lizzie 'Names' her favorite Walker and Carl over hers her do so. He's also in the library during story hour with Carol; briefly in the 'Patrick the zombie tries to eat everyone' scene running away and in the final prison scene he runs off screen with Molly and is never seen again...I decided to save all four kids at the prison fall in my story. Cause I can do that. :p
So, Let's all pretend just that little kid is called 'Patrick' too. Two Patricks. Yikes. *facepalm* XD
Thanks!
Chapter Sixteen
(Daryl's POV)
It doesn't take him long to reach the farm, maybe an hour of walking.
It's nothing like Hershel's Farm. This house looks older; definitely less grand, though it features the same two story build and styled porch it has none of the ornate woodwork that gave their previous home it's charm. This house looks tired, and forgotten; with cracked and peeling siding and a rough rusted looking roof. It's surrounded on all sides by a few acres of cleared land and not much else. There's a barn and a few sheds in serious need of repair, nothing like the sprawling fields he tracked small game through to be alone the summer they stayed with the Greene's.
He circles the estate; if you could even call it that, moving carefully. Relief flooding him every time he sees someone he recognizes alive.
He find's Glenn and Tyreese busy working on a fence line not forty feet from the trees edge. He itches to call to them. Shoot the young man he doesn't recognize standing next to them and just tell them to run; but in his circling the farm he's also found the kids from the Prison; all of them playing under the watchful windows of the old house.
There's no way he can reach the porch; call them back to the perceived safety of the trees without one or all of the Peacocks noticing; following them into the woods. Picking them off would be only a matter of time with nothing but trees for cover, and limited ammunition, with Walkers drawn by the gunshots...They'd all be slaughtered one way or the other.
Fin wasn't very specific in details. Hell, she'd gone almost completely close lipped, shutting down. She barely gave him anything more on what would happen on the farm beyond a general warning… But the color drained from her face when he told her about Lizzie, Mikka and Molly… She'd immediately asked their ages, her voice tight. Her face carefully blank in a look he was starting to associate with skillfully contained reactions. He didn't need to wonder why she asked; could easily figure it out on his own.
A bunch of sick perverts with no morals Fin was terrified of?
It wasn't hard to figure out what the fuck they'd be interested in little girls for.
The thought still burns the back of his throat; seethes deep down inside burning bright and red hot. They need to get away without a fight to save lives on their side, but he wouldn't mind coming back and personally ending the life of every sick simple minded piece of shit on the property.
The way her voice trembled when she spoke about Caleb and the others….He got the impression that these boys liked to play with their food.
She'd gotten away from them—but not before they'd hurt her.
Just like they'd do to the rest of the girls, even younger than her-little kids with no chance in Hell of defending themselves.
He needs to get in there, warn everyone he can and have them all make their move at once.
He'd say a prayer if he thought that shit worked anymore… after Sophia though he's pretty much chalked that bullshit up to wishful thinking.
JC didn't solve your damn problems, never lifted a finger to help him in his whole damn life.
If he had to write a book about his life, it be firmly located in the self-help section.
The title would be simple:
Fix Your Own Shit.
"Daryl!"
Glenn sees him as he leaves the woods; which was his intention. Tyreese is with him. They seem to be working on a fence built of multiple tree limbs zig-zagged back and forth across the property lawn, like an old civil war era fence.
"You're alive, Oh my God!" The slim Asian actually hugs him for a brief moment.
Tyreese doesn't hug him, Thank God.
Instead Tyreese clasps his hand tight, grin wide. "You made it."
The man that was with them before has followed them across the lawn, stands nearby looking interested, and friendly. He looks too much like Caleb for the smile to work.
"Been tracking through the woods trying to find your dumb asses and your sitting 'round on the front porch sip'n damn lemonade? The Hell's that all about?"
He has to play his part convincingly. Even if he is dying to just raise his bow and shoot this guy right between the eyes. His fingers twitch towards the trigger just thinking about it; wondering if he touched Seraphim when she was here before… If he hurt her like that too...
Shit.
Since when's he callin' her Seraphim?
Memory of his own grumbled words float back to him mumbled right after meeting her in the woods that day with Carl... Back when she'd flashed that brilliant emerald gaze over him assessing him under a raised eyebrow while he kept an arrow pointed at her head...and she didn't even blink...Drove him instantly to distraction.
Back when he'd been certain she was trouble for him; felt it in the race of his pulse, and the jittery knots those gorgeous eyes twisted through his insides when he caught her watching him.
Girl was trouble for him from the word Go. He just hadn't know what kind and how much at the time...didn't have enough damn good sense left to run as fast as he could in the other direction...
And Fin is still a dumbass nickname for such a gorgeous fearless girl...
"Bus got stuck on the road, whole way was blocked off. Ran into Joel's brother's out scavenging the roads." Tyreese inclines his head to what must be one of Caleb's younger brothers. "Brought us back here, patched us up, offered us help."
"In exchange for fixing their fence?" He tries to keep the bite out of his voice, not sure he succeeds.
Joel smiles at him. "Can't be helped, Damn Walkers, as you guys like to call them; keep busting through it. I'm constantly out here repairing it myself; nice to have an extra set of hands."
He nods. "Hell you call them?"
"I call them Walkers now, I'm a convert." He smiles again. "You're welcome to stay as well, It's safer in numbers when the Walkers attack, we've had some trouble lately with groups of them moving through."
Daryl just stares at him, tempted to tell him to piss off.
Glenn's smile slips. "Daryl, did you see Maggie?"
Joel is listening; he can hardly tell him he sent his wife off with Michonne and little Judith.
"I saw them leave the prison; but I couldn't get to them. Her and Michonne were together when they ran. I'm sure they're fine." Glenn nods, accepts the first news he's probably heard of her in days in pensive silence; his face drawn and tight.
A few days ago Daryl'd walk away; uncomfortable with the emotion on the younger man's face. Now he feels it burn through his insides when he thinks about Fin out there in the woods alone…
"We've been going out for days searching for everyone, but Caleb-Joel's older brother, went out yesterday morning; took Gary. They never came back."
That's 'cause that Asshole was floating face down in the river for daring to touch her.
Joel looks appropriately upset. "Maybe he's fine, but I'm worried that girl got him."
"What girl?" His voice feels tight to his ears, he clears his throat. "Sorry, any water?"
"Yeah man, one sec." Tyreese leaves them a moment, returns with a glass of freaking tea from where they were working on the fence, it's cool, the same temperature as the air, small beads of condensation dripping down the outside of the mason glass.
Since they've been drinking it, it's probably safe. He takes a sip, swallows around the lump in his throat. He inclines his head to Tyreese in thanks. "Now, what girl? Been out there for days; didn't see no damn girl." Lies. He still sees her every time he closes his eyes...even to blink.
Joel looks serious. "No, you wouldn't. She's out there though. My brothers have seen her; and tracked her too, but she disappeared into thin air-she's completely crazy. Lives out there with the Walkers, Caleb said he saw her walking with them, like she was one of them..."
"Sounds like a ghost story." Isn't this kid a little old for ghost stories?
"It's not. It's why my Mom doesn't want anyone going into the woods alone; that's when she gets you."
Sure, that's it. has nothing to do with not wanting their cattle to wander too far off the property.
He spends most of the late afternoon and evening helping Glenn, Tyreese and the youngest son Joel repair the fence after briefly meeting two other men from the family; uncles to Joel men that remind him of the Governor; eyes cold and calculating. Even though they all smile at appropriate times, shake hands, offer welcome and thanks for helping with the fence. Interacting with them grates his nerves, leaves a dirty, greasy film coating his insides. He barely resists the urge to wipe his palm on his clothes after they shake hands.
By the time the brass triangle by the porch is rung near sunset he's on edge waiting for someone to slip up. Glenn and Tyreese follow Joel inside, Joel is grinning at him tells him to come on to dinner.
Dinner.
Oh Jesus.
There's a serious flaw in his plan to hide in plain sight.
The Peacocks all sit down to family dinner with their guests at night.
He washes his hands in the bucket by the back door with Glenn. Tyreese has already stepped inside; offering to help Mark carry wood in for the stove.
"Glenn, who didn't make it?" He's resisted asking in front of the others in case he can't temper his reaction.
Glenn frowns, probably wondering why he's asking now.
"Greg got shot, I thought he was going to be fine, but…" he shakes his head. "We lost, Alan, and Trevor. I knew Trevor was a goner, but I didn't think Alan was that bad, I feel terrible, I told his sister after I look at the wound it wasn't that bad…"
He flicks water from his fingertips in distress.
"They got shot leaving the prison?" Glenn nods, scowls at the ground.
"I keep trying to tell Betsy and Kevan not to worry; they're going to be fine, but I'm not sure anymore. I mean, I'm not Hershel. What the Hell do I know? I wish Maggie was here..."
Daryl is infinitely grateful that she isn't. At least part of his family might be safe somewhere.
"It's not your fault man, what's wrong with them?"
"Betsy caught a recherché, through the shoulder, and Kevan I think he broke his leg, it's all swelled up, they're upstairs,"
He nods.
"What happened to Greg?"
Glenn looks at him for a second, frowns. "Gunshot wound to the thigh. But it wasn't even that deep, man, barely bled at all."
"And he died after you got here?" Glen nods, "Mary, Joel's mom said he got an infection that went to his blood, kills so painfully that without the medicine there was nothing they could do."
An infection in a matter of days wasn't completely implausible, but with what he knows about this group he wouldn't be surprised if they lost Greg to the culling of the herd…
"Did you see the body?" He's whispering. Glenn stares at him.
"You boys ready to eat something?" A plump woman in a blue apron pokes her head out the back door. "I didn't cook all day for you to stand around yapping! Come on an get in the kitchen,"
"Yes, Ma'am." They slide in the back door and move to sit at the table.
Fin was right, there's several large bowls of pulled style BBQ on the table. He feels hot and nauseous, stomach rolling; he's glad he hasn't eaten since yesterday it might be the only thing keeping him from being sick. There are pigs on the Peacock's property; but not enough to supply this kind of food daily, for this many mouths…
He sits, watches them pass the bowl around, when it's offered to him he slides it past to the next person.
The mother—Mary, is watching him when he looks up.
"Something wrong with the meat dear?" Her face is blank; it reminds him of that look Fin gets just before she tells him something awful.
He sees Mark and Ken look up out of the corner of his eye.
Shakes his head, tries to look apologetic, if this doesn't work he's a dead man, but he can't bring himself to touch the food; wonders if it would be better if Fin hadn't told him at all; his insides churn.
"No ma'am. It's just; well, I'm a vegetarian. I'm sorry." He says it quietly, hoping not to draw everyone attention to his discomfort; people that know him, know that's a crock of shit.
Glenn is staring at him, spoonful of potatoes halfway to his plate; he recovers quickly though. Kid has gotten good at thinking on his feet the last few years. He laughs, it sounds easy and natural, not strained the way his face feels…
Mary shifts her attention to the animated younger man.
"It's kind of funny right? Big guy like him?"
"More for Me!" Tyreese takes the bowl from someone else's hand, Daryl watches him spoon a large helping onto his plate. He looks up at the mother, face carefully blank.
"It does look delicious, though Ma'am, you know, for meat."
He passes a quick grin to Glenn, hoping to sell his cover. Glenn shakes his head at him in bewilderment, "You're seriously weird dude."
Glen scoops BBQ onto his plate.
If they don't buy this he's a dead man.
There's no other reason a hungry man would pass up good food. He tries not to think about the smell, gag on it traveling down his throat….thinking about what it might be…who…
"I'll take those potatoes though, if you don't mind." She hands him the bowl smiling.
"Not a problem, you eat up dear; much too skinny."
Her smile does something strange to her eyes.
:: walking dead ::
He survives dinner; barely able to eat a thing, his stomach a mass of rolling knots every time someone reaches for something.
Mary offers him an apple as he leaves the kitchen. He takes it with a gruff 'thanks'.
Tries to heads outside onto the porch to eat it.
Finds Ken following him, he's about to react when Glenn calls out to him, joins them and Ken breaks off to join one of the nephews, or brothers instead.
He waits for Glen on the porch. They lean against the railing, he can tell Glenn wants to ask him what the hell dinner was about but Joel and Ben come out to join them and they end up talking about anything but.
Ben tells them it's time for bed sometime later. He wants to stand on the porch alone for a few more minutes staring into the woods. Part of him hoping to catch a glimpse-some hint of red gold in the shadowed tree line once everyone else is gone.
It's cold without his fleece jacket.
...She's out there somewhere wearing it...right now...maybe already tucked up in their tent ready to sleep...
"Whatcha looking at?"
Mark, is tall, whip thin with dark eyes. He looks like an older, thinner Caleb. Daryl bites the inside of his cheek. "Just wondering if anyone else is out there."
Mark stares at him for a full minute, silent. "Heard you was out in the woods alone, must be a good shot."
"Decent."
He wants out of this conversation, and the Hell off this porch…
"We're going looking for my nephew tomorrow, Might could use a good shot. If you're interested."
"I think I'd like to help Glenn and Joel with the fence, I just came out of those woods…no offense; I'm not really sure I want to go back in."
"Joel says when you were out there, you were alone. Nobody else with you?"
"I had one of the girls with me when we left the Prison, but she's gone now."
He doesn't elaborate, it's the truth technically. Right before he had another girl with him... a petite little redhead that smells like vanilla and some wild spice; one that stared him down half the time without blinking, but blushed looking away when he caught her gaze out of the corner of his eye...
Mark nods his head. "Sorry to hear 'bout that, awful lucky you finding us here."
He looks down at his hands on the wood railing. Hates this conversation, this place, Everything. The urge to run intensifying, if he wasn't gripping the rail he thinks his hands might shake.
"Hammers were loud as shit. Heard 'em in the woods."
"You sure you don't want to join us?"
He doesn't think they're talking about a walk in the forest anymore…
"No thanks,"
"Alright, well thought I'd offer. You should probably head upstairs with the others, it's not safe out here after dark."
He heads inside certain that's not safe either.
Especially after Mark locks and bolts the door behind him.
:: walking dead ::
(Fin POV)
I never thought I'd find it hard to sleep alone.
I sigh, shift, and stare up at the tent roof in almost total darkness.
Listen to the Dead milling about beneath me.
My back up plan for getting Daryl and the other's out requires a large distraction.
I can't think of a larger distraction than the one staggering around just below me.
I just wish they'd be quieter.
I frown.
I try not to think about what he's doing right now…if he's okay.
He made his decision, knowing what he was walking into.
I feel sick; take a few slow deep breaths.
Tomorrow morning I'll check the area around the farm for more Dead.
...I need to keep busy so I don't think about him.
At least that's the plan; not that it seems to be working...
I close my eyes, slow my breathing. I have a lot to do tomorrow.
If Daryl doesn't make it out by tomorrow night I have to set my plan in action…
...And then hope I can keep the rest of them alive.