AN: Here we go, another little chapter!
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Andrea saw when Alice came out of the room for the first time and started to wash her hands off in the sink. Without asking, Andrea immediately started a kettle and made her the only coffee that she could, instant but strong nonetheless, not bothering to ask permission to use the kitchen as they'd been instructed by Rick that they should do.
They had all arrived early that morning. They'd left for Sophia, should she return to the highway, a not written in window chalk on a car and supplies. Merle said, though, that there was a better chance she'd walk right onto the farm at this point, given the straying trails of the steps they were following, than that she'd find the highway again.
The old man came into the kitchen while Andrea was standing there, bumped the kitchen sink on with his elbow, and went about the same activity that Alice was performing in the other bathroom. Andrea tried to make her body as unnoticeable as possible, unconsciously flattening herself against the kitchen wall, in hopes that he wouldn't notice her and wouldn't resent her for inviting herself into his home and welcoming herself to his things.
He did notice too, as he went about drying his hands. His eyes glanced over to the kettle burning on the stove.
"Enough for everyone?" He asked.
"Within reason," Andrea offered.
"You make a habit of going into people's homes and using their gas without permission?" He asked.
Andrea nodded.
"When one of my friends has been up all night trying to save a life? I do," she said.
She didn't know how the man would react, but he looked oddly amused.
"Next time," he offered, looking into the mug where she'd already put the instant coffee crystals to wait for the heated water, "use the real stuff. That's been in the cabinet for a long time. Hershel Greene."
"Andrea…Dixon," Andrea responded. "How's Carl?"
"Looks like he'll live," Hershel said. "I'm sorry the same couldn't be said for Otis."
"What?" Andrea asked, furrowing her brow at him. She had no idea who Otis was or why it would be important, but if there had been some kind of tragedy, she'd certainly heard nothing about it.
She had barely seen anyone since their arrival. No one had greeted them, no one had welcomed them to the farm. They'd only known they were in the right place because they hadn't been shot and they'd recognized the vehicles and what was up in the half-put up camp in the front yard.
Merle and Daryl had immediately departed in their search for Sophia, Carol had gone about making the camp livable, and Andrea had come in to haunt the house while she tried to find out what had happened.
Now it appeared that someone was dead and no one was reacting in any particular way about it. She'd seen Shane and Rick, from a distance, but they were discussing something. Lori, she assumed was with Carl because she hadn't seen her, the others were simply unaccounted for.
"They went for medical supplies," Hershel explained, taking over the making of three cups of coffee now. "Your friend…Shane…and Otis. They went for medical supplies. Otis got hurt, I suppose. He didn't make it out. Only Shane made it back."
Andrea felt an icy chill run through her veins at the thought of it. She didn't say anything about her feeling. It wasn't her place to say anything, but she already felt like assuming there wasn't more to the story than that was underestimating Shane on too many levels.
"I'm sorry," she offered softly, realizing that Hershel was probably some kind of friend of the Otis man that he mentioned.
He hummed at her and offered her two of the mugs of coffee, clearly keeping the third for himself.
"Take this to Alice," he said. "And take one to the woman that came with you…I heard that she lost her child."
Andrea looked at the mugs.
"If you want some," he said. "You're welcome to it, after you make your deliveries."
He hadn't realized her hesitancy didn't have anything to do with the coffee. She didn't mind coffee, but she wasn't particularly thirsting for it either.
"Carol's daughter is lost," Andrea offered. "But she didn't lose a child."
Hershel looked at her.
"Little girl? Out there alone?" He said. "I'm sorry that I can't do more. If you'll excuse me, I'm not accustomed to going so long without rest."
Nothing more was said before Hershel left the space, his mug in hand, and left Andrea standing with the coffee mugs. She started past the bathroom where Alice was still taking care of things and she heard a retching from inside, so she paused and kicked at the door lightly with her shoe to imitate knocking.
"Al? You OK?" Andrea asked. "Alice? Open the door."
A moment later, Alice complied. She came to the door, wiping at her face, red eyed.
"Yeah?" She asked.
"You OK?" Andrea asked.
"You ever been so damn tired you just want to puke?" Alice asked. She laughed to herself and shook her head. "I just forgot that I have to eat something for that to work."
"You probably don't want this, then," Andrea said, handing her the coffee.
"I do…I do want," Alice said, reaching for the mug.
"I'm taking this one to Carol," Andrea said. "You should hit the RV, get some sleep?"
Alice simply nodded at her and followed her, mug in both hands as if she were a child incapable of walking with a drink, out to where the camp was being set up. Alice didn't greet Carol or say anything to anyone. She went directly to the RV and let herself inside without speaking to anyone.
Andrea offered Carol the mug of coffee and Carol thanked her for it.
"She OK?" Carol asked.
"Dead tired, but she'll make it," Andrea responded.
"Carl?" Carol asked.
"He'll make it too," Andrea said. "They went on a run last night, Shane and some Otis guy. The Otis guy didn't make it back."
Carol frowned.
"I'm sorry to hear that," she said, with all the sincerity that anyone could muster these days.
"I'm not entirely convinced…" Andrea said. She stopped.
"What?" Carol asked.
"I just wouldn't put it past Shane, you know?" Andrea said. "Save yourself at all costs. Some people…around here? Save yourself at all costs."
Carol sighed, but she didn't scold Andrea in the manner that Andrea expected it.
"I suppose we're all that way," Carol admitted. "To have Sophia back? I can't say what I'd do."
"They're going to find her," Andrea offered with all the sympathy that she could find. "Today even…"
Carol offered her a half smile and nodded her head as at least some kind of gesture. Andrea wasn't sure if she really believed her or not.
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Daryl had split off from Merle and they'd gone, still staying within shouting distance, in slightly different directions to try and cover more ground in their search for Sophia. Both of them were optimistic that they would find the girl, but the truth of the matter was that they had, in the back of their minds, a ticking clock that told them that she'd been out there for too long already. They didn't know how much she knew about survival, didn't know if she'd be able to find food or water, and keeping that in mind, they were running out of time to find her before she simply ran out of time.
He made his way toward one of the farm houses they intended to inspect closer, and stepped as lightly as he could on the porch boards there, reaching out and knocking at the door like he was requesting entrance. Really, what he was requesting was an exit to be made by any Walkers that might be hiding right behind the door.
The Walkers didn't even have to come out, actually. He and Merle had decided that if any Walkers threw their weight against the doors and showed themselves to be active inside, they could easily assume that Sophia wasn't in the house…or at least, the Sophia they were looking to find and return to Carol wasn't in the house…so they left those houses alone.
When nothing slammed into the door, Daryl came all the way up the porch and pulled the wooden door, slipping inside.
This was a house that had clearly been abandoned long before the fall of the world. Furniture was turned upside down and broken, windows were broken and tattered curtains flapped in the breeze that found its way in. This house hadn't been lived in for a long time.
He made a quick walk through the downstairs of the house, circled through the entirety of it, and might have simply left the building without another thought…but something caught his attention.
In the kitchen, in the trash can that was nearly in the middle of the floor, there were cans there. The labels on the cans looked fresh and clean and new in contrast to the rest of the house. He stopped, picked one off the pile of rotted garbage below it, the house left in a hurry whenever it had been left, and sniffed it.
It had been green beans and it still smelled of green beans. The can hadn't been empty long enough, even, for the juice to dry.
And that can hadn't come from this house.
Daryl stepped toward the pantry, pulled the door open, and confirmed his suspicions. Whoever had eaten the food had brought it with them. Nothing in there was new enough to suggest that it could have come from the house.
Someone had stayed there, but they were squatting. They were on the move…and they had the presence of mind about them to carry supplies.
Daryl quickly yelled Sophia's name a few times, and started up the stairs, still yelling. He was sure that he'd found her. He was sure that he was going to reach the top of the stairs to find that she was up there, taking full advantage of her squatter's rights, and was sleeping in one of the beds.
He might have made it too, if the staircase of the house hadn't proved to be as rotted as he thought the porch boards might be. He was almost to the top when, without warning, he fell through the staircase and crashed down, full force, into what had been made into a closet space below them.
Pain seared through his body and he howled out. Whether something was broken or not, he couldn't tell. Whether the pain came from having impaled himself in the fall, he wasn't sure. All he knew at the moment was that everything hurt…and that he barely had time to halfheartedly yell for someone who would never find him before everything started to fade to black around him.
"Be a whole lot damn easier ta bind this shit you could sit up like a big damn boy…"
Daryl heard the words coming into his ears from a distance. He doubted they were real. His vision fluttered slightly and slowly he began to make out something besides the darkness.
The searing pain in his body hadn't stopped and his head was throbbing, pounding like a heartbeat.
He forced himself to swallow and tried to lift his head against the concussion that he'd surely suffered in the fall.
"Well…looks like sleepin' beauty decided ta wake the fuck up," Merle said. "Said no damn stairs, an' what does my fuckin' idiot brother do? Fall his ass through a fuckin' flight a' stairs."
Daryl realized, then, that Merle had found him. Whether he'd heard him or heard the crash, or whether he'd just been struck by some kind of fairy godmother like intuition, Merle had found him. Daryl rolled his head around, and saw that Merle was binding his side. Apparently in the fall he'd impaled himself…on his own damn arrow.
"Was lookin' for Sophia," Daryl offered.
"That's what the hell we been doin'," Merle said. "Keep up, Derlina."
Merle laughed to himself.
"No," Daryl protested. "No…someone…been squattin' here. Prob'ly her. Fresh food in the kitchen. She's got food. Lookin' for her upstairs…an'…"
"An' the whole fuckin' thing fell through with ya fat ass," Merle said. He finished the work that he was doing on Daryl's side and got up. Daryl didn't ask where he was going. He knew. He was going to check the food for himself. When Merle returned, he loomed over Daryl.
"She's been here," Merle said with a chuckle. "She's been here…an' it ain't been long."
"Gotta keep goin'," Daryl said, trying to get up, everything in his body aching from the impact of the fall. "Gotta keep lookin'."
Merle grunted and shook his head.
"No," he said. "Gotta get you back…get Alice ta clean that shit up. You bleedin' alright, lil' brother. Gonna make me have ta kill ever' damn Walker between here an' the farm as it is. Get you back, clean ya nasty ass up, tomorrow we'll come out, start here. We know where the fuck she is now. Tomorrow? We'll bring her ratty lil' ass home."
Merle heaved Daryl up and Daryl looped an arm over his brother's neck but protested his plan.
"Another night out, Merle? She don't need it. We gotta keep goin'…find her tonight," Daryl said.
"Listen, Daryl," Merle said. "Until you get bandaged up, we ain't travellin' fast. She left here a day ago at the latest, but her lil' damn ass can wiggle a whole lot faster'n mine can. We ain't gon' find her no damn way 'fore sundown 'less she's sittin' in the bushes out back waitin' ta yell fuckin' boo at us. Tomorrow…we bring her skinny ass home. Tonight? Ain't too damn much we can do."
Daryl started to protest more, but with each step he was fully aware that he was neither in the condition to go on alone at the moment, nor to try to make Merle do anything that Merle didn't intend to do. At least, though, they knew more of her location. At least they knew she had food…they could assume she had water…and he knew that she had the presence of mind to seek shelter.
He also knew, that she was smarter than he was, because she hadn't been dumb enough to fall through the rotted staircase.