Dead Days

Chapter Thirteen

Discussions

So! First things first. I am so sorry it's a day late. My family ended up having a BBQ last night and I was far too focused in finishing up a chapter on another Walking Dead story that I've been working on to update this one. I know, horrible of me right, but I'm excited to finish up this new story so I can share it with you all!

Maybe I'll release some kind of sneak peek of it here if you are interested? It's a Daryl/OC-established relationship that follows his wife and son's journey trying to get back to him as they were separated from the very beginning of the apocalypse.

Next! I will not be updating this coming up weekend as it's Easter and I will be busy celebrating with my family. I will, however, be updating the weekend after that. So look forward to it! Some crazy stuff is about to happen soon.

I hope you've all enjoyed this!

"Well if we crave a change

Why not start today?

And sing it out loud

We're not going crazy

We're learning to fly

We're looking for answers

With both of our eyes."

-Wild Wild World by Set it Off

Maisie followed after Hershel, walking toward a small shed, off on the edge of his property where he had separated a lone, sick, cow away from the others. Today, while her momma and the others were out, Maisie would be learning things that could help their group in the future. She was bound and determined to pay attention and learn today. The little girl knew that she was young, it would take many times of seeing the same thing over and over before it would stick, and she would even begin to understand what was being shown to her, but that didn't matter to her. Maisie had always wanted to help animals.

Hershel could teach her that.

Other than finally learning something that interested her, there was something more important on Maisie's mind, a self-appointed mission.

Maisie hadn't meant to listen in on a private conversation between her mom and Merle, but she had stumbled across them talking and had overheard how they would need to leave the farm in a few days.

Hershel didn't want them to stay here.

Maisie frowned at the thought of living back on the road. Her momma had done a good job at keeping them off it, but Maisie remembered that moment back on the highway, how Mr. Rick and Merle had gotten hurt, and she could only watch as they lay on the hot cement, and her momma struggled to help them. She remembered the fear that had clouded her mind when her momma had left her alone in that car, about how she had hoped and prayed that her momma would be the one to find her, and not a decaying face pushing against the glass that separated them.

She didn't like the dead things.

Maisie was smart. She understood that staying on the farm meant they wouldn't have to go back out there. Maisie also knew that she could help her momma. The idea had come to her when Maisie had realized how much Maggie liked her and had seen how the older man, Hershel, softened at the sight of her.

He had seemed against the idea of taking Maisie out to teach her anything when her momma had brought it up to him, that was, until, Maisie, herself, had stepped forward, pleading, as she widened her eyes, forcing tears to build up inside of them, as her lower lip wobbled.

The old man hadn't stood a chance once he caught her gaze.

Maisie liked the idea of helping her momma. She liked the idea a whole lot if it meant they could stay here with the Greenes, a nice family.

"You told your father where you were gonna be, right?" Hershel asked, his eyes falling on her, as they began to leave the house. He hesitated on the porch, ready to go find the man if she said anything but yes.

"Momma said I could go," Maisie said, frowning a bit, as she tried to figure out who Hershel thought her daddy was. Merle was the one that first came to mind. Maggie had called him her daddy, and Merle hadn't corrected her. Maisie smiled at the thought. But he wasn't here either, he had left earlier as well, and there was no way Hershel could go and ask him for permission. Shane was the only one that had stayed behind. Even Daryl had left so it's not like Hershel could ask him. Maybe he would want to ask Shane if it was really okay.

"Your momma left earlier, didn't she?" he asked, his brow raised, as he waited.

"Yes, sir." Her momma had always made it a point to teach her manners, and Maisie thought Hershel was the type of man that would appreciate it. Her lips pinched as she glanced around the yard, wondering if he would require her to have an adult's approval, even though he had talked to her momma.

"You should let your father know whom you're going to be with." He gave her a disapproving look. "I think I remember your momma saying she wanted an adult to know where you were going to be at all times. And I don't want any miscommunication that later gets us both in trouble because no one can find you."

He was stiff as he stood there. Almost cranky sounding, but Maisie had learned to read people's body language, and it was almost instinctual for her to notice what people weren't saying aloud. She may be little, but she was smart, and Maisie could tell that Hershel was simply someone who felt comfortable with clear lines drawn in place, and order. He sorts of reminded her of what she could remember about her Momo. They both came off as unrelenting, and cold but were anything but.

"Shane knows where I'm at though," Maisie said with a shrug. Her momma had reminded the man of her lesson with Hershel, and she had even gotten permission to run off and find the older man in preparation for it. Shane had let her go easily, watching her from the tents as she hurried across the grass, and didn't take his eyes off her until she had disappeared into the pretty white farmhouse, where she had turned to wave at him one last time. She had promised to have Hershel or Maggie walk her back to him when the lesson was over. "He asked me to have you, or Maggie walk me back to him, afterward. I know the rules. I follow them."

She smiled convincingly up at him. Maisie didn't like going against her mother's wishes and remembered the time she had, back before the scary dead people, back when her father was still around, and how scary he had become. All because she hadn't listened to her mother's rules.

Hershel sent her a look that Maisie wasn't able to untangle as it was foreign to her, and made no sense, but when he didn't question her again, she decided to let it go. It couldn't be important. He seemed to be the type that would have spoken up if it were.

He hadn't held them up after that, simply motioning for her to follow him, and after a moment of thinking about it, Maisie stepped closer, as she reached out to grab and hold his hand. She noticed the way Hershel took it in stride as if he were used to small children holding his hand. She remembered that he was Maggie's father and that Beth was also his daughter, and she smiled at the thought that he remembered how kids were. He didn't try to shake her away. There was just a gentleness, as he reaccustomed himself to the sensation, before refocusing on the task at hand.

Maisie didn't hold back as she released her naturally curious nature, slipping into a role that all small children had, as she began to ask him question after question, about what they were going to do.

He was patient, and calm, as he answered her questions, or gently corrected her when she assumed something wrong, and this continued until they got to the lone shed where pitiful cries from the cow could be heard.

Here, he went into doctor mode, simplifying his answers, as he kept up a constant flow of explanations for each, and everything that he did to the cow. Sometimes he would slow down, repeating what was said, as he broke down each action, and gave a more detailed understanding of what was going on, and why, when Maisie vocalized her inability to understand.

She caught him smiling fondly as he re-explained the medicine that he was giving the animal, and why it was needed. There was a hint of pride in his voice as he praised her when she hesitantly reworded what was said to show she understood what had been clarified. Excitement sprouted in her chest as she caught the emotion on his face. It pushed her to listen more intently as she reached out to lightly pet the animal that looked so afraid and hurt, as she tried to soothe it.

Maisie forgot her self-appointed mission as she lost herself in the lesson. She simply existed in that moment, eagerly soaking in the new knowledge, as she tried burning it into her brain so that she didn't forget.

"Can you keep teaching me?" she asked, a frown crossing her lips at the thought of how easily she would forget this. It frustrated her, but Maisie knew how easily the knowledge would have fled her mind by the time her momma had returned from her trip, regardless of how much Maisie would want to tell her everything that she had learned. It happened far too often. It was even an issue when Carol would sit her down for her lessons for the day, but Maisie remembered how she was starting to remember things that Carol taught her because they went over them every day.

She wouldn't forget if Hershel agreed to turn it into a daily lesson.

"I'm a busy man." Maisie could hear the no forming on his lips. "You'll be moving on in a few days." Maisie didn't like this, as she remembered her mission, and that frown tugged deeper at her lips before she suddenly twisted it. "There wouldn't be a need to continue." He had started out stern, his voice solid, but by the end, with how her face contorted, it had softened.

"I wanna stay," she begged, her voice wobbling. "You could keep teachin' me. I like you, and Maggie. And even Otis, and Patricia, and Beth, and Jimmy! I don't wanna forget how to heal the animals. What if somethin' were to happen to Nala or Pixel?" Now her voice had begun to leak out a sadness that came from the thought of not being around the Greenes anymore, or something really happening to her dogs, and no one knowing how to save them. It hadn't taken much for true emotion to take over as her eyes welled up, and tears built within the blue depths.

"Your momma and I had a deal. Now, I'm sure the lot of you will do just fine once you move on. There's no need for these tears."

Maisie sniffled as she began to wipe her face, before hunching over, not liking his words at all, as she suddenly threw herself into his arms. Hershel caught her easily, having been waiting for it, remembering how his own daughters had been when they were her age. He patted her firmly, but calmly on the back, as he let her release the emotions built up inside of her.

"I would miss you!" She sobbed the words into his chest as he leaned down to soothe her. "I know you're not my grandpa, but I wish you were! I don't wanna leave. I miss my pawpaw and Momo." Her body shook as her small fingers clung to his shirt. "Would it be so bad if we stayed?" She pulled back, watery blue eyes staring up at him, innocently, as she silently begged him to change his mind.

"Did your mother put you up to this?"

Maisie shook her head as more tears fell down her cheeks.

"No." Maisie wasn't a liar. Hershel had caught onto that fact already. She was just a child who knew too much and had come up with her own fixes.

"You're too young to understand."

"It seems silly to me that we can't stay. Momma wouldn't let us get in the way. We'd all listen. We'd be good."

"It's got nothing to do with that."

Before Maisie could open her mouth to say more there was a noise outside the shed before the door was suddenly pushed aside, and Shane stepped in. He blinked in confusion, taking in the scene before him, as he looked questioningly at Hershel.

"I came to check in," Shane said, his voice tight, as he tried taking in what could have happened. "Remington spoke that the lesson wouldn't be too long, and it's been nearly two hours."

"It would seem our lesson must come to an end," he told Maisie, before turning his attention to Shane. "The girl has learned a lot, was helpful, and is like a sponge, but I'm afraid it may have been too much all at once. We let time get away from us. She's tired. A nap might do her some good." He gently, but firmly guided Maisie away from him. "Are you the one in charge of her?"

"Yeah," Shane nodded, moving to swoop Maisie up into his arms, as the little girl buried her face into his shoulder. Her eyes fluttered softly as the crying started showing signs of having drained her, emotionally, and physically, and she was suddenly tired. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry to say that the topic of your moving on was brought up. It would seem she's become quite attached to the farm. Children tend to do that, and I'm flattered, but we all knew this wasn't a permanent situation. She's been busy and learned a lot, and it's only natural that it would cause her to grow cranky. I'm sorry the lesson ended in tears. She's got the right mind to learn, but I'm afraid I won't be able to offer any more of these lessons."

Hershel pulled himself up from the crouch he had lowered into as he sent a guilty glance toward Maisie before the emotion was wiped away, and only a steely determination was left behind. He could not allow himself to be swayed into letting them stay. The girl was right, her mother wouldn't let the group become a hassle, but that wasn't the problem. They had made it clear where they stood on the situation with the sick, his family's views went against everything the groups did, and Hershel did not, could not, allow them to stay on the farm.

Soon, the government will have found a cure, some way to stop this plague and bring back his wife and stepson. His life would be stitched back together, and things would go back to how they were before everything had gone out of control.

This little girl, crying in front of him, pulling at his heartstrings, as she begged for him to let them stay, went completely against that hope inside his heart.

Giving in to her meant that he had given in to the way the world now was. It meant he had given up hope on his wife, and stepson, damning them for the fate that they had existing inside that barn. It was no way for someone to live.

He would not think about the fear that had slipped into her voice. Hershel would not linger on the thought of the possible mistake he was making.

Shaking his head, he turned his steely gaze onto the man who still stood in front of him.

"She's just a kid," Shane began, his lips thinning, as he forced back an automatic angered reaction at the sight of Maisie crying, visibly upset. However, he wasn't able to keep it all back, as some of it bubbled over in his words as they fell from his lips. "They tend to react negatively when told they're gonna be shipped back out into nightmarish situations."

"You all survived out there once." Hershel squared his shoulders, determined to ignore the man, as he made to walk past. "You're a strong bunch. You'll survive it again. I've been more than fair in allowing you to stay long enough for your people to get better. I've even allowed you a few days extra to find yourself someplace for yourselves. I've done my part. None of you are my responsibility."

"You don't know how it is out there, man," Shane argued, pitching his voice lower, trying not to frighten Maisie, but not being able to keep the words inside himself. "Now, I get it. I do. This is your land. If it were just us, with no kids, I wouldn't even be having this conversation with you right now. I'd be more than happy with what you've willingly given us, but it's not like that. I have these small lives to worry about." Shane closed his eyes, his stomach lurching, as he thought about what the future looked like for them.

"I'm sorry. I really am." Hershel's voice was tight, bordering on frustration but Shane couldn't help the last little push.

"I have to ask you to allow us to stay. To really think about what you're doing. One of the women in our group just learned they are pregnant. If you send us away, you're damning them to their death. We need to stay."

Hershel hesitated in the doorway of the shed. His shoulders were hunched in, his body weathered, and stiff.

"I'll give you another week. You've got a week from today; I'm giving you four extra days to find yourselves somewhere safe to stay. I'm being more than fair. Then I want you all off my farm. A safe place or not. I won't have you stay a second longer." There was an edge to his voice. He was upset. Whether it was because of Maisie's begging, and then Shane's pushing, or if it was the knowledge Shane had thrust on him, it didn't matter. Hershel was angered, irritated, and feeling that guilt nag at him as he pulled up his walls to keep them from crumbling.

Shane opened his mouth to retort but Hershel cut him off.

"Neither of you is of my blood. You have responsibility for yourselves. I've cleaned my hands of anything that occurs and what happens, happens. Remington is a bright, and resourceful young woman. I'm sure she will manage you all just fine."

Shane's face darkened, but he could see that the man had closed himself off from any further discussion. There would be no breaking through to him. He had given all that he could and would not be pushed anymore.

He didn't like that this man would shove that obligation on Remington's shoulders, knowing that it could lead to some of their deaths, but not willing to become more involved than he already was.

Shane backed off. He curtly thanked the man, forcing himself to fall back on his training, to reign in his emotions, as he watched Hershel walk away, and felt the way that Maisie went limp in his arms as they stood there, the minutes ticking by as the exhaustion pulled her to sleep.

He may have gained them an extra four days, but it was obvious that Hershel had been pushed too far, and any headway that Remington may have gained with him had been washed away. He would be less willing to be swayed into letting them stay on a more permanent basis.

Shane wished he could go back, and keep his mouth shut. He knew how hard Remington had been working on the old man. She may have spoken highly of her backup plan, just in case, but he had seen it in her eyes, about how desperate she was to get permission to stay longer.

Trudging toward the tents Shane tried to shake the thoughts from his head. He would not focus on how that possibility may have just gone up in flames, as he instead decided to have faith in Remi, she would come through for the group, whether it be in the form of a safe haven or burying herself under the skin of the stubborn old man. Either way, she would not allow them to be thrown back into the deep end of death and fear.

He would believe in that.

Remington would not be pleased with him interfering as he had, but she would understand. After all, he doubted she would have been able to keep her mouth shut if she saw Maisie crying.

Determined to make sure that the rest of the day went by smoother, Shane got permission for Maisie to nap in Dale's RV, before he went back to managing the group and making sure Landon and Carl were both where they were supposed to be. Remington was relying on him to keep their people here safe, and busy.

He would do his part.

┈┈┈┈․° °․┈┈┈┈

Remington shifted in her seat, the sweat causing her clothes to stick to her skin, the sensation worse than usual with the heat that clung to the inside of the car. Jackson looked just as ruffled as she did, his hair usually combed into a semblance of style was now windblown and tangled looking. His face held the familiar sight of sweat clinging to his skin. Something they were all used to by this point.

There had been moments when Remington missed the conveniences of the old world. A working A.C. or even one that could be properly utilized without worrying about gas was one thing that she had dreamed about in her weaker moments. The Georgian sun was unrelenting and worse than any summer she had ever experienced before. Having lived most of her life in Colorado, up in the mountains, Remi hadn't truly experienced hot summers, only ever getting the rare day where it would reach something that she considered sweltering, and when they had moved north, away from her family, with Eli, they had lived in Maine. The summers weren't awful if they did get hotter than she was expecting, but it was nothing compared to this.

Jackson, she knew, had experienced horribly hot summer overseas, and was probably used to living in conditions such as this.

"What's the plan?" he asked her as the silence grew longer.

They had taken to driving the backroads, looking for signs of where people could be possibly held up while moving toward the town Remi knew they would show up eventually in. Remington wasn't used to her brother looking to her for directions. All of her life she had heeded his guidance. That changed when Eli came into her life, and their relationship had grown strained as she followed the new man in her life, regardless of whether Jackson trusted Eli. She had ignored his warnings of the signs he had caught, thinking Jackson just couldn't wrap his head around her growing up, and not believing it was to protect her from a danger he had clocked miles away. And now, Remington had taken care of herself for so long, she had naturally fallen into the role of protector and leader.

Jackson had taken notice, stepped back, and was showing her that he trusted her with his life.

"I know where they are going to end up, but I don't know where they were before that. The timeline is all kinds of messed up. I'm not sure if Rick, Glenn, and Hershel were already supposed to be in that bar, or if it's going to happen soon, but it's our best bet to search around that area. It's a large group. There should be signs of many people staying in one area. They don't seem the type to cover up their tracks."

"No," Jackson said with a shake of his head. "They wouldn't see a need to from what I remember. They believe they have the manpower to protect what is theirs, and the egos to take what they want from those that can't stop them."

"It's for the best if we keep tabs on them." Remington sighed as she watched the trees fly past as they drove by. "Hopefully they'll just move on, but it makes me sick, knowing that they'll be allowed to continue the depraved actions on unsuspecting victims."

Was she already too late to save that man and his two daughters?

Probably.

Remington knew she couldn't save everyone, but the thought of having knowledge like this, and not being able to do anything about it tore her up inside. That was just the problem though, she didn't have enough information, and what little she had was just enough to cause her to feel guilty.

"What are you thinking?" Jackson asked. "We take them out?"

The thought had crossed her mind. It would save them the worry about being found by this group and would keep anyone else in the future from being subjected to their debauchery. In truth, it was how the new world worked. Those who would survive wouldn't blink about taking a life that threatened the existence of their loved ones, or themselves.

Remington hesitated in giving the order.

Could she become that type of person? Yes, she had taken the lives of those two men back in Atlanta, but they were physically baring down on her, and the others. If she had kept them alive there was no doubt in her mind that she would be dead, along with the other three she had been with. That could not happen. It was clear in her head that she had done the right thing, even if it sometimes gave her bad dreams, and she struggled with the actual knowledge of taking a human life. But there had been a difference between then, and this decision now. That had been made at the moment, calculated within seconds, and this one would be premeditated. She would go into it with the knowledge that no one's lives were currently in danger, and that it was just a guess, a prediction, of future trouble from them.

She had changed so much already. What if this was just another change? Would they ever come across these men in this timeline?

What kind of person did it make her if she turned to Jackson, telling him the plan was to take them out, all of them? Would it make her just as bad as them? Did it make it better that she would have done it to keep them from taking future victims?

Jackson waited patiently as she tried wrapping her head around what call she should make. He was the perfect picture of a soldier waiting for his commander to give an order. Remington knew that it wouldn't be the first time he had received such instructions. He wouldn't blink if it were the route she decided to take. Remington knew him well enough to know that he only suggested it because he believed it was for the best. It was his way of helping guide her in a direction, but he wouldn't fault her for turning it down either.

"Let's just find them first," she decided. "We'll observe them, and then once we know where they are making camp, I'll make the final call."

Something heavy settled in her gut.

The option of allowing them to continue, to make those types of decisions to hurt others, wasn't something that Remington felt she could allow but was it really her place to play God and decide they deserved to die?

It would be easy. Jackson, alone, could take them all out, silently, while they slept, after they took out those that would stay awake. If they found them today, the two of them could wait, and hang around until nightfall, before taking them out.

Remington could make up an excuse for why they hadn't come back at their designated time. The group wouldn't need to know what had gone down. Remington could easily be that type of leader, who did the dark, and not-so-nice things, in the shadows, so that the others wouldn't have to live with it in their consciousness.

Jackson would agree with it.

She could deal with the guilt, and nightmares, in the dark of her tent at night, surrounded by her men, and children. It would soothe, and remind her of why she had done it, and perhaps that would be enough to ease her mind.

It wasn't an easy decision to make in the daylight, surrounded by sunshine and the knowledge of what kind of weight would settle itself in her heart.

"All right." Jackson nodded, sensing the unease in her tone of voice, and knew that she wasn't ready to make that type of call when danger wasn't bearing down on herself, or those she cared about.

He didn't push it.

Jackson believed Remington would make the right call when time asked of it from her.

┈┈┈┈․° °․┈┈┈┈

Merle directed Daryl to turn onto a side road that would lead them to their second location of the day. There had been four places of interest marked on the map, all within a certain distance away from the farm, which would be easy for anyone to come to find them if something were to go wrong. They were right on schedule, if not a little ahead, as the first place they had checked had been a bust. The smattering of farms had either been burnt to the ground or was overrun with Walkers, and the assholes had messed things up far too much for it to be worth the effort of making it into a place they could live. They hadn't even taken the time to properly search the farms for anything usable.

There was nothing that could have enticed them enough to risk their lives.

Merle had made the call to move on, and neither his baby brother nor the Asian, fuck, he was Korean, had said anything against the idea.

After seeing what little remained out here Merle didn't have his hopes up for this next location to be any more promising. It was another couple of miles of farmland. Further away from the others, but no less promising in his head. Remington hadn't sounded as if she felt any different but had included them in the search regardless. She wasn't the type to leave a stone unturned after all.

"Stop 'ere," Merle said, as they came to a stop on top of a hill that overlooked the land below them. It was the perfect advantage point to survey before jumping blindly into a potentially dangerous situation. His time in the service may not have ended on the best note but Merle had taken what he was taught there seriously. He hadn't planned for it to come into play during an apocalypse, but life was unpredictable like that.

It had been one of his better decisions in life as it now gave him a leg up in this fucked up world. He was better prepared to protect those he cared for.

Shoving open the door to the truck they had all crammed into Merle, grabbed at the binoculars, and moved to stand in front of the vehicle. He gazed down into the valley, seeing how there were two farms within a mile of one another. The closest one, he could easily make out how it was still standing, and seemingly without a sign of Walker's, while the other one looked to be in no worse condition. He couldn't see it as clearly and knew they would need to get closer before he could properly judge it.

Neither of them seemed like a truly safe place to bunker down in. The first lacked fences, were too open to attack, and had nothing to stop a Walker from stumbling upon them without warning. It would need a lot of work to make it safe. The second looked to have fences, but Merle couldn't tell from this distance if they were still functioning, or if the dead had already destroyed them.

If anything, maybe the places had some supplies they could take for themselves, and if they were lucky, they wouldn't run into any trouble that would make them work for it. They could move on to check out the town that Remington had marked on their map to check out, before moving to the one option that had the most potential for long-term living. Maggie had given the idea to Remington, looking guilty, as it looked like she didn't agree with her father's plan to kick them out. With how she had been making eyes at Glenn and looked to Remington for friendship, Merle wasn't surprised by her difference in opinion from her father.

It was an old warehouse, a way outside of a small town, with supposed fences high enough that it would take effort to climb over. Potentially it could be a gold mine, but Merle knew better than to believe it would be easy to clear out, or that no one else had taken the time to turn it into their base.

That was why Remington had wanted a small group to go out. It would make it harder to be noticed just in case they had managed to run across other survivors.

She had given Merle only one warning of a large group, made mostly of men, but with the possibility of women, and children, though she had sounded doubtful. She wanted them to stay away from them. To not trust them and to get away as fast as possible. There was no way she should be able to know that such a group existed, but Merle had long ago forgone believing that anything Remington knew, or did, was impossible. She just seemed to know things. He trusted her to know what she was talking about. Remington had saved and protected him in the past, and he wouldn't go around doubting her now.

"What's it look like?" Daryl asked, moving to stand next to his brother, as he peered down at the building.

"Looks clear," Merle shrugged as he leaned back against the hood of the truck. His hand drifted to the pocket of the vest he wore over his chest, snatching up the cigarette pack that was running dangerously low, as he flicked open the lighter, and lit his second to last one. The smoke rushed through his lungs, filling his veins with nicotine, as he felt relaxed against the familiar sensation.

"Are we going to stop and search the place?" Glenn asked.

He looked less twitchy than normal. Merle remembered he had been kind of jumpy back at the quarry and suspected it had something partly to do with the fact that he was always the only one going on supply runs. He may have preferred it that way, less baggage to handle, and if you were only looking after yourself then you didn't have to feel guilty when something went wrong, but Merle suspected that was also why he always seemed on edge. Regardless Merle preferred this version of him. It caused Merle to feel less unsettled when everyone was confident in their abilities. He would babysit if he had to, but that's not why he chose Glenn to go on this run. If he had wanted someone, he needed to keep his eye on, then he would have chosen Andrea.

"Wouldn' hurt nuttin," Merle nodded. "Don' think it's a place ta settle in, but we could find some supplies 'ere."

"Was there any movement?" Daryl asked, still eyeing the first farm.

"Naw, but we'll take it nice and slow. Don' wan' ta bring anyone back with less than they came wit." He cracked a smile, seeing the way Glenn stiffened, obviously thinking of the situation with Rick. "Nuttin ta worry 'bout." He lightly bumped his arm against Glenn's causing the man to chuckle weakly as the three of them moved back to climb into the truck.

Merle spotted the two vehicles that were parked precariously at the back of the farmhouse. Something nagged at him when he saw the old jeep and pickup truck, but he couldn't place the reasoning for it.

"Keep yah guard up," he muttered to the other two as they filed out of the truck. His eyes kept bouncing back toward the two unknown vehicles as they walked around toward the back door of the house. Something about them put him on edge. It made no sense. They could have been there for the last couple of months, not moving since the owners left them, but something pushed against his thoughts, telling him something was wrong.

Pixel walked slowly after them, his nose pressed to the ground, sniffing, as he stuck close.

"I'll go in first," Daryl said, reaching out to knock against the glass of the back door. The sound echoed, muffled, but carried on the inside. Not a sound could be heard greeting their announcement of their arrival. "Unless a Walker got stuck somewhere inside, we'll probably be fine."

"Keep an eye out regardless, baby brotha." Merle nodded his agreement with opening the door, only half surprised by the fact that it opened without any trouble, as something yet again tugged at his senses.

Glenn followed Daryl a moment later, and Merle took up the rear, Pixel at his hip, making sure to keep an eye out behind them. The house smelled like dust, and mold, the combination causing Merle to resist the urge to sneeze as they walked further into the house.

"Clear ta buildin' before wonderin' off for supplies," Merle barked out when Glenn diverted off course to search through the cabinets. The youngest man easily fell back in line as Daryl led them toward the living room. It didn't take much to clear the few rooms on the first floor before they began to make their way up to the second floor. There were three rooms up there, a bathroom Glenn found, and as Merle had opened what led to a small kid's room, he noticed the absence of Pixel, a low growl slipping out from his muzzle, and suddenly there was the click of a gun, and a muffled curse leaving Daryl's lips.

Not thinking, just reacting, Merle had spun around his gun pointing at the stranger who had suddenly revealed himself. He whistled sharply at Pixel, keeping the dog from lunging, as the snarls left his throat, and the hair on his back was ruffled and tense. He was dressed up in army fatigues, a shiny gun in his hand, which was currently pointing straight at Daryl's head. This caused Merle to bristle in anger, but he forced the emotion down as he tried keeping a cool head. He would not be the reason to push this guy over the edge and into shooting his brother.

"I think yah betta' put down tat gun of yers or I'm gonna have ta do it for yah," he muttered lowly.

"Hey, hey!" Glenn hollered out. "We didn't realize anyone was here. We're not here to do anything. We'll just leave, all right?"

"Ain't got no reason to stay," Daryl mumbled in agreement.

There wasn't anything here worth losing their lives over. All he cared about was getting back to the camp. He'd just gotten a chance with Remington, there was no way he was going to die here, not when she would be waiting back at camp for them, and Daryl knew that if this asshole shot him right now Merle would lose it, and if he hadn't managed to kill this guy, he'd be gunned down next. Poor Glenn would end up as just a casualty. The dog would have to be taken care of next, as Daryl didn't see him chilling out once the humans, he was with were dead. That'd leave the others with no way of knowing what happened unless they happened to stumble upon them. Daryl didn't like the idea of Remington seeing them like that. He wondered if she'd be devastated, and decided that wasn't a thought or emotion, he wanted her to have inside her head.

"Why don' we just put our guns away," Merle stated, calmly, his voice even. "Nice and easy."

He only had a moment's warning, a creak of the staircase behind him, and Pixel swiftly turning on his heel, before Merle was suddenly swinging around, following the dog, his gun aiming, and blocking another man, dressed in his fatigues, from pointing a gun at the back of his head. Pixel had lunged forward, and the man was forced to kick out with his leg, blocking the snarling mutt, as Merle called him off. The whimper that had escaped Pixel's lips put him on edge, but when Pixel retreated, not limping, or acting hurt in any way, he found himself calming. He was worried that the man would decide it was easier to just shoot the dog, and Merle didn't want to go back to Remi with a dead dog in his arms.

Merle realized then why the vehicles had been nagging at him and causing him to be uneasy. Everything around them had been covered in a layer of dust, even those things that had been outside, open to the weather, still looked untouched and unmoved. Those two vehicles, regardless of how they looked, could have been there for years but had looked too clean. It looked like they needed maintenance done on them, but it was obvious, now, that they moved far too often to allow dust to settle on them.

"Thought I heard a car pull up," said the man standing directly in front of Merle. "Yah, all right over there, Sweeney?"

"Just fine," the man, Sweeney, stated.

"Not 'ere ta cause any trouble," Merle repeated, his gun still steadily aimed in front of him. He was unwilling to put it down until they did.

The man in front of him smiled, showing his teeth, as he shrugged good-naturedly.

"Supposed yah could be tellin' the truth," he said. "Sweeney always was a bit jumpy, and I can't blame the mutt for trying to defend you all."

"The only thing that kept me alive through all the shit we went through," Sweeney snarked. "Lot of good that did me. Landing me in this shit show."

"Why don't we settle down, talk this over, no need for this to end up in a shoot-out," the still unnamed man said. He lowered his gun, showing his good faith, and behind him Merle could hear the other man following his lead. "My names Sergeant Gareth Cromwell, and I'm the leader of this rag-tag of misfits."

Carefully Merle followed their lead. His gun fell to his side, but stayed in his hand, just in case.

"Yah, got others?" Merle asked, catching onto the unspoken realization of there being more than just these two.

"We were out in the barn when the three of you arrived," Cromwell shrugged. "Just missed you by a hair I reckon. Would'a greeted yah with a little more caution but as I said, Sweeney's a bit jumpy. There's a total of six of us."

"What's a couple of civilians doing out in these parts?" Sweeney asked, having shuffled through his pockets in search of a smoke, and upon finding one lit it.

"Doin' like yah," Merle answered, cutting off Glenn before he could respond. "Survivin'."

Merle didn't think that this was the group Remington was talking about. She would have mentioned that they were part of the army, and somehow this was something Merle just knew she would have known. It was an important detail, and the woman was just full of vital details. That didn't mean Merle had written these men off as safe. It was the complete opposite. They were still unknown variables.

"Lots of that going around," Cromwell agreed. "We haven't come across many of the living since the world went to shit."

"Yah not takin' people in?" Merle allowed the question to slip out, casual-like, as he waited for an answer. Their response, the way they gave it, and if Merle believed them would point him in the direction of how to act around these men. Just because they were dressed in army gear did not make them safe. "Seems ta me common folk would be linin' up ta go wit ta likes of yah."

"You would think," he nodded, keeping his body language open, as Cromwell noticed what Merle was doing. "Most we come across are skittish, don't like the news that we give 'em 'bout Fort Benning being down, or that Atlanta is a lost cause. They stick with us for a little while, and we even had a small family we were protecting, but shit hit the fan, they didn't listen, and it cost them their lives." Cromwell had sounded genuinely devastated by this, and when Merle glanced at Sweeney out of the corner of his eye, he could see how the gruff man had stiffened, his head bowing, as he bit his lip before taking another drag from the cigarette. "What about you fine folk? Got any place to go? We don't mind taking more in."

"You seem the experienced type," Sweeney appraised from where he had begun to lean against the doorframe. "We could use you. Spotted ourselves a potential place to settle in. It's big. Having more people on hand means the easier cleanup will be."

"He's not wrong," Cromwell agreed. He had been carefully watching the three men, taking in their reactions, and so far, had found himself in approval. It wouldn't allow him to know everything about them, but Cromwell was a master at reading people and usually could peg them for who they were early on in a meeting. It had done him well over the years. "If you prove that you can play nice, and aren't going to be a problem for us, we'll take you in. It is a big place, and even though we could get the job done, it'll be a close call if the place is overrun."

"Why take that chance?" Daryl asked, speaking up from his place next to Sweeney. He looked irritated by the conversation but had perked up in interest at the mention of a place to settle down in. These men didn't need to know that they had no intention of leaving behind their group. "Sounds like if yah can't clear it out safely by yourselves then it isn't worth it."

"Just cause we haven't managed to do recon on the inside yet, doesn't mean we wouldn't be able to handle it," Cromwell stated. "It's only smart to be hesitant, but the place is a gold mine. Brick walls, tall, with those fancy sharp metal on the top. Got about a dozen buildings on the inside, the rich type, all looking the same, basically mini-mansions, and there's a mall development right outside the walls. Looks like it had just finished production. Probably won't have a lot inside to be pillaged but fuck that means it's probably empty of the dead as well. It's a wet dream in this type of world."

Merle narrowed his eyes.

"Why'ya tellin' us all this?" His voice was coated in a fine layer of distrust as he closely watched Cromwell. "Yah not afraid we'd try ta steal this place right out from underneath yah?"

"A man that planned on doing that wouldn't have told me what was on his mind," Cromwell smiled. "He would have kept his mouth shut and fed me a bunch of bullshit in hopes that we would allow you to tag along, after all, we all but shoved it in your faces that we took in strays, and then tried to take us out of the picture after we showed you the place in question."

"You'd a been an idiot to try anything before," Sweeney snickered.

"Yah entice all the strays you run into with this type of information?" Daryl asked, frowning, as he realized this may have just been some kind of trap to see what type of people they were.

"This place is new," Cromwell said. "We just found it two days ago. Normally we tell them about the guns, and the food we lug around with us. Usually, that's enough to show traces of the type of person they are."

"Cromwell can read people with an ease that's kind of creepy," Sweeney said. "Your body would have given yah away as soon as the thought passed through your head, and once Cromwell saw that we would have left yah ass in the dust. The fact that he hasn't turned his back on you yet means he's serious about taking the three of yah in."

"It wouldn't have mattered if you knew we knew about a place," Cromwell shrugged. "Without us telling you anything more you'd never find it. For all you know, it's hundreds of miles away, or right around the corner. So, what do you say? Join us, or keep surviving' alone, as you put it."

Merle didn't answer right away. He continued to sweep his gaze over the man, searching for signs of a lie, or that they were being duped in any way. The idea that this place they talked about had walls was promising, and if they were the type, they said they were, then it was most certainly a 'wet dream', and the type of lead that Merle couldn't just walk blindly away from. This could potentially be the thing that kept Maisie and Landon from being thrown back onto the road.

"We're not alone," Merle said, watching his reaction carefully. "There's more of us. We're not willin' ta leave them behind. Nor are we willin' ta drag 'em into a potentially dangerous situation with a bunch of strangers."

"Understandable."

"I've gotta know what type of men yah are." Merle decided to just go all in. This was a lead that he felt in his gut he shouldn't pass up. His instincts urged him to find a way to safely figure out if these men were trustworthy, and to find out where this community they spoke of was based at. "I can' lead yah ta them otherwise."

"Supposed we could throw yah a bone," Cromwell said, his lips pursed as he thought it over. "You say you have more people. Are they experienced? I wasn't kidding when I said we could use more people. If the place can be cleared, if it needs to be cleared, it will run smoother having more people to keep it safe. Our groups merging could potentially be beneficial to both parties. You'd gain our muscle, and experience, and we'd gain the numbers to keep the place running."

"Most of us have some kind of training," Daryl said, speaking up for his brother, and being the one to cut Glenn off this time. "We're experienced as you put it."

"We can hold our own," Merle agreed. He didn't like giving out information about their group, but none of it would put anyone on the farm in danger. They knew they existed, but not where, and not how many, just that they could protect themselves, if necessary, even from the likes of these men.

"Why don't we show you where this community is," Cromwell said. "Show our good faith. Maybe, if you see that we're telling you the truth you'll feel more comfortable with joining us. We're the good guys here. We're only looking to survive, just like you, and it would be nice to do it with a bunch of people that weren't going to try to stab us in the back."

Merle felt that gut instinct forcing his mouth open in agreement. It couldn't hurt to get to lay eyes on the place they were talking about. The only ones that would be in potential danger were the three of them, not the group, and Merle's gut was telling him that these men wouldn't be a danger to them.

He decided to follow his instincts.

"If yah lyin' we're cuttin' our loses and ditchin' yah," Merle finally grunted. "If yah follow, I ain't gonna feel bad about getting' rid of yah. We've got our own ta protect."

"Course." Cromwell smiled widely as he looked mighty pleased with himself. "If it makes you feel any better, we'll let the three of you drive, you can take me, and Sweeney will stay with the rest of the guys here."

Merle felt that the most dangerous man on this plot of land was Cromwell. That the only reason he offered to go by himself was that he was certain he could take Daryl, Glenn, and himself if it came down to it, but Merle also felt that it would only be a last resort, and only if one of them forced his hand.

If this turned out to be real. That these men really were only looking to increase their numbers to have a better chance at survival than they may have just hit the motherlode. Merle was hesitant to believe that he had that kind of luck, but recently, his luck had changed, and he was likely to bet on this just being another feat of that luck going right for him. He was almost certain that it was Remington's doing.

Merle decided to push forward, agreeing with the man's plan, as he listened to that voice in his head that told him he could trust Cromwell.

Now, if they survived this Merle would pat himself on the back for finding them such a break.