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Milton's Historical Logs #89
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Carl has returned from Atlanta, there were no lives lost on the trip and many supplies to be gained, though he did tell me that there are indeed infected who still haunt the city, they seem few and far between there, but they are there. We are almost full up to the brim with dry goods and canned goods. The cellar is so full of foodstuffs that we only have a narrow passageway to maneuver through.
There was so much and the pickings were so easy that Carl is planning to make another run into Atlanta and another and so on until we have enough.
By my calculations we have enough food to feed ten more mouths into the middle of next summer or if our population stays more or less the same we'll have enough to last until next winter. That's not including the fact that Carl may make two or three more trips and return with food enough. Our only problem now has been to bolster the numbers of Sister Gertrude's remaining cats in an effort to prevent rats and mice from getting in at our supplies. I've personally given Toby the task of caring for the cats and have asked Carl to bring back a healthy supply of cat food as all we have for the cats at the moment is leftovers and even those are pretty scant. Carl did have the foresight to bring back copious amounts of dog food and we've begun to actually invest in the animals. The chickens are flourishing, the dairy cow has been bred with some crafty negotiating with Delgado's people and we should soon see a few pigs come in our way from Ruth.
In all I've been very busy taking inventory and assigning new storage facilities, Glenn has even volunteered to set up a few people and himself at the nearby plantation, where we can store more.
Rick's progress is going well. He's getting stronger every day, though I've noticed he has shown no interest in any leadership roles, he has taken to minding the smaller children, to which he's shown actual talent, but this move has startled some. It's not to be surprised, Rick has had a serious stroke and he's re-evaluating his life, I'm sure.
In the meantime, as a more personal, less informative entry, we're all getting ready for the wedding of Lieutenant Vancoughnett and Grace Harper. They want to have it in the church, but since it's still not whole again, they've put it off once more until the church can be restored to its full glory.
Could be another month or so if the Lieutenant could ever pull himself away from chasing his daughters around or sneaking away with Grace to work on the church. But the work he has done is remarkable, he hand carved the sides of every last pew, putting details in that weren't on the old, simple pews, saints and matyrs, angels and icons. Some think he's nervous about the wedding and trying to put it off, but anyone who really knows the Lieutenant knows he's doing it out of love. Grace adored that church so much, this is just the Lieutenant trying to bring it back to her.
Daryl and Carol are preparing themselves as well, another three months and they'll have a child, Carol's second and Daryl's first. Some people are thinking Daryl is going to be too hard on the child, but in my personal opinion as an outside observer, Daryl is more equipped to be a father than anyone, since he knows what it's like to have a bad one. He's smart enough, too, to know that if he does the opposite of what his own father would do, he'd be one of the best fathers around.
Current home population: 33 (One added number from Delgado's group, Kowalski is still with us learning sign language, his brother has also expressed an interest in learning so he's remained for a few weeks as well.)
Current away population: 0
Current forecast: 62º, Sunny
Current mood: Unnerved (Michonne has been standing in the doorway of my office for the past ten minutes, polishing the blade of her sword. I'm beginning to wonder if it's a threat. If I don't write in this log again, just know that she's probably a person of interest in the investigation.)
Addendum: What does it mean when a woman tells you where she's chosen to sleep? There has to be a significance to this…
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**The Lieutenant**
"Daddy?"
"Yes, boo?"
"What are clouds made of?" Annie asked.
They had been lying on their backs for hours, it seemed, listening to the others excitedly telling tales of what they missed and what was new and the news from Atlanta, until the roar of excitement, became a buzz, which faded into a hum, before dying with a whimper.
"Mais," he pondered it. "They're…water droplets in the sky."
"Clouds are water?" Olivia demanded from the other side of him.
"But they're white," Annie added. "Water is blue."
"Nuh-uh!" Olivia protested. "Water isn't any colour!"
"Yeah!" Annie said. "It's blue in the ocean and lakes!"
"Clouds are white, because it's frozen water, like tiny snowflakes and ice crystals." The Lieutenant struggled to explain, he wasn't sure he was one hundred percent right, but he knew he was on the right track.
"How do they stay up there? Shouldn't they fall like snow?" Annie asked as they all calmed down.
The Lieutenant pondered this. He always hated when his Mamere gave him 'I don't know' answers, so he didn't want to just give them that, but he also didn't care much for lying to the girls.
"In life," he began slowly, "there are always questions. It's not for me to answer all of them for you. It's up to you to go forth and discover the answers for yourselves."
Smiling, proud of himself, Fate sat up straighter in the grass and eyed Olivia.
"What a load of shit," Annie declared loudly.
"You shouldn't say 'shit', boo," he protested, pulling the girl in close and pecking the top of her head with his chin playfully. "Your ma will blow a gasket hearing you say things like that."
"Why not? It's just a word."
"It's an adult word just for adults." He returned.
"When do I become an adult?" Annie demanded.
"When you turn forty."
"I wouldn't ever say shit, daddy," Olivia pointed out sombrely.
He furrowed his brow at the skyline. "You just said it so that sort of defeats the promise."
"Well, I won't say it again." Olivia insisted.
"Je t'aime, daddy," Annie declared loudly.
"Je t'aime, boo." He returned with a grin.
Olivia crawled into his lap and took his face in her hands. "Je t'aime more, daddy."
"Je t'aime plus," he corrected. It had become habit now for him to teach his girls how to speak, they had learned most of the basics, but this was one they used often and it was usually in competition.
Olivia paused in thought, before asking. "Does that mean more?"
"Yes."
"How do I say 'I love you the most'?" She demanded.
"I love him the most!" Annie growled.
"Nuh-uh!" Olivia argued.
Saved by Daryl who was wandering over with a nervous looking Milton trailing behind, the Lieutenant kissed both his girls on the top of their heads, before standing up.
"What's going on?" He asked as the men approached.
"I'm thinking of heading over to the plantation today to grab a load of fieldstones, you in?" Daryl returned.
"Sure, I have nothing planned. I was going to try to cut some glass to replace the stained glass panels, but I got distracted," he returned, eyeing Milton beyond Daryl. "You alright, Milton?"
"Einstein is coming with us," Daryl said. "We could use the extra pair of hands."
"I'm more capable of obtaining and holding a supervisory position," Milton said. "But Daryl said he'd knock my block off if I didn't help and I don't know which part of me is my block per se, but I'm assuming it's my head and I'm quite fond of it."
"'Yes' isn't in your vocabulary?" Daryl growled. "You need a bigger damned dictionary."
"Will this new dictionary define 'block' for me in terms of how you used it?" Milton shot back. "Because I'd be interested to know for future reference what it is that you threaten to knock off whenever I say something you don't like to hear."
"Why aren't you taking someone more…outdoorsy?" Fate asked as the men started towards one of the trucks.
"My ongoing pursuit of scientific method in a new world ruled by Neanderthal man doesn't make my feelings impervious to being wounded," Milton argued.
Slinging an arm around the little blond, Fate beamed. "I'm sorry, lapin, you come with us and we'll teach you the ways of the Neanderthal."
"I've been forever yearning to learn the ways of fire," Milton murmured dryly.
"Mm, fire good, cook meat," the Lieutenant grunted, punching Milton's shoulder companionably.
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"…so I got that goin' for me, which is nice."
They had been travelling down the dirt road heading home from the plantation with a heavy load of fieldstones in the back, Daryl driving the truck, Milton wedged between them. The youngest Dixon brother quiet, eyes narrowed at the road.
"I don't think Christianity works that way," Milton pointed out calmly.
"Why would Gracie say 'God help you' if she wasn't asking a favour of the big man on my behalf?" The Lieutenant shot back with a smirk.
They drove on, Milton floundering to argue that logic with the Lieutenant, Daryl still eyeing the road ahead with a bit of a thoughtful scowl.
"What's going on in that goat head of yours, cabri?" The Lieutenant asked after a moment.
Daryl inhaled deeply, but said nothing.
"Let me try guessing then," the Lieutenant teased. "Carol caught you trying on those frilly white drawers of hers and you got—"
"How the hell do know about her drawers?" Daryl snapped.
"Holy hell! I was just guessing!" The Lieutenant barked, laughing at the man's face.
Daryl reached across Milton to grab at the Cajun who doubled over in joy. "Did you wear them too? Was I right all around? Maybe I have psychic powers."
The truck swerved as Daryl took a swipe at the Lieutenant, the Marine huddled up against the door to escape the assault, but was righted by a panicked Milton, who grasped the steering wheel with wide eyes.
Turning back to the road, Daryl scowled darkly at it, the sparkle in his eyes belying his amusement.
"What's really wrong, then?" The Lieutenant asked after a moment.
Daryl cast a nervous glance at Milton, before licking his bottom lip.
"Oh, don't worry about secrets around me," Milton said. "I have no one to tell them to."
Daryl was sullen and quiet for the longest time as they drove, his hands gripping and loosening on the steering wheel, before he began tentatively. "Is…have you noticed things about Grace…like with her pregnancy and shit?"
The Lieutenant was quiet, before nodding. "Yeah, she's got this thing growing inside her stomach right now, sort of a parasite—"
"Fuck it," Daryl snarled.
"Naw, come on. What's up, cabri?"
Daryl sniffed and cleared his throat. "Has Grace been…like…insatiable?"
Leaning forward to peer around Milton, the Lieutenant pegged Daryl with a smug look. "Cabri," he crooned.
"It's just…" Daryl turned red right up to the tips of his ears, "my fucking dick is chapped as hell."
Milton's head slowly turned to face Daryl, the geeky blond quietly eyeing the rough man.
"I mean, I'm fucking sore," Daryl went on, still as red as a mosquito on a pigs ass. "How do I…you know, tell her to ease up a little."
"Mais," the Lieutenant drawled slowly, "that's a serious problem. Do you avoid the sex or have your dick fall off…"
"You need a substitute," Milton pointed out.
"For sex?" Daryl asked.
"No, for you."
The Lieutenant chuckled. "Pinch hitter."
"Shit no," Daryl snapped. "Fuck!"
"Well," Milton said, pushing his glasses up with his knuckle. "Your other option is to say no to a hormonal Carol."
Daryl shook his head. "Naw, can't say no to her."
"Tell her you sprained it."
"What? My cock?" Daryl demanded.
They pulled down the cattle trail home and reached the gates just behind a military transport, causing the Lieutenant to bolt from the truck before it even stopped, rushing to the side of the transport and jumping onto the runner to peer inside.
"Double Trouble!" Rhoades exclaimed from the back of the transport. Leaning inside as the transport started into the convent grounds slowly, the Cajun laughed jovially. "What brings you all back this way?"
"We were invited for a wedding, I believe," O'Hara said from his place beside Rhoades. "I hope we're not late?"
"Not at all!" As the transport pulled to a stop in front of the church, the Lieutenant leapt down and helped the men out of the transport. "Where's the rest of your men?" He asked O'Hara.
"Stationed nearby, didn't want to overwhelm you here." Fredricks pointed out. "How the hell have you been, Lieutenant?"
"We're good, our people just got home from Atlanta," he returned as Daryl and Milton joined them from their truck, Merle and Andrea coming over from the church. "Found enough to get by on."
"How was Atlanta?" O'Hara asked.
"Dead," Merle greeted with a grin.
"Sergeant Fredricks, Rhoades!" Carol exclaimed, emerging from the church with Grace at her heels and a whole mess of children behind her. "Major O'Hara!" She wrapped both Sergeant's into a tight hug, O'Hara got a warm nod.
Grace also embraced the men sweetly, standing on her tiptoes to pull Fredricks down for a hug.
"You boys look rough," Carol said. "Why don't you come inside and sit, we'll find you something warm to eat."
"You ladies are angels," Fredricks purred, following the women, as O'Hara ensured his men were out of the transport and heading in for a warm meal.
Daryl and the Lieutenant exchanged a look, before Daryl said, "so how long you staying for?"
"To see a wedding," O'Hara said. "Then we'll move along."
"So what's it like?" Glenn asked. "Out there, I mean in the wilds?"
Looking around, Rhoades beamed. "We aren't in the wilds?"
"Different wilds," Glenn said with a shrug.
"Quiet," O'Hara said, getting back to the question. "There's not many people moving about, those left are keeping their heads down somewhat. Minding their own business." He stopped short as Adele stepped over holding Celeste in one hand, her other clasped around Langdon's small hand.
"Major," Adele greeted.
"Amelia?" The man said.
"Adele," she corrected.
Smiling sheepishly, the Major clasped his hands behind his back. "Sorry, Adele, I knew it was something unconventional." Kneeling the man smiled at Langdon. "Hello, little man, I remember you."
The boy blinked at him, before reaching up and taking firm hold of O'Hara's shirt, bunching it in a little fist.
"He…he heard me!" O'Hara exclaimed, looking up at the others.
"I…fixed his hearing aid," Milton said. "Just a new battery and an adjustment in size."
O'Hara beamed. It was one of his rare, broad, shark-like grins. "That's great!"
"So, what else is new from the road?" Andrea asked as they all headed inside.
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georgiapeachs - Daryl would get attached to a home, wouldn't he? Poor baby.
Claire Randall Fraser - I'm okay with that, Louise totes had Michael Madsen under her belt, so...yeah...(wait, she did, right? Yeah, I'm sure it was her...)
vickih - I think, if Milton was smart enough, he'd definitely know to have respect for Daryl's temper...
auntheddy - I'm almost tempted to have them get carried away with building the house and just load it up with stuff.
You'reMyKindOfTrouble - This story should span a generation, actually. I had many requests for second generation stuff.
itsi3 - And it loves you, I know this because it has told me so! ^_^
Merle's Right Hand - Well, maybe one day Milton will be besties with Daryl...
ArcheryLefty - I agree. Merle's character potential was totally wasted.
Brazen Hussy - I may be trying to work on that hook up...
Natalia Vronsky - I think it'll be sweeter to have the doors and windows in their new home. Like a little touch of the old.
Yazzy x - Milton is a nerd and I adore him! He's probably more nerdy in this story than he was on the show, but we also didn't get enough of a taste on the show. I crave more! More Milton!
Surplus Imagination - Yes, there will be a journal entry/diary entry/letter or some form of written log at the beginning of each chapter. This is the new format I'm playing with.
Nerdymomma89 - Aw! Thank you! That's sweet! I appreciate your review! You have a beautiful day, my friend! ^_^