The Man on The Mountain Chapter 3, a walking dead fanfic

A/N Thank you soooo much everyone! This chapter we'll learn how Daryl and Jack wound up living on the mountain. xo

The Land

Beth slowly falls back and closes her eyes. Why is he being so awful to her? But then, how can she complain? He and his dog saved her life. She's so weak she knows she's about to pass out again, but she has one question, and quietly asks, "What's the dog's name?"

Daryl was just getting up, now he looks down at her and says, "He's Jack, I'm Daryl. Just the two of us live here and that's the way we like it."

Her last thought before she's out is, he really is a complete ass.

As he's carrying the dishes out to wash he's trying to decide how the hell he's going to deal with this shit. He got her to drink a little more and eat a little more, but not much food went down. That was probably good, she'd be getting sick. It'll be better if she has a little something every hour or so. That thought has him muttering, "It's like takin' care of a fuckin' baby bird." But he's going to do it. He's going to take as good a care of her as he knows how, because the sooner she gets better, the sooner she's gone.

Jack does his business, Daryl does his, and they're just about to settle themselves in front of the wood stove for the night when a weak and shaky female voice asks, "Daryl? I…I have to use the bathroom."

Oh fuck him. Of course it was inevitable, he just hadn't thought about it. Fuck. "K, the bathroom's built onto the house. I just got it done the end of summer and I haven't got an access door from inside yet, we're goin' out and it's gonna be cold."

"I just have to…" She's already humiliated, oh my gawd, having to ask him to take her to the bathroom, but she's waited as long as she possibly can.

"K." He sits on the edge of the bed and tells her, "Wrap your arm across my shoulder," but he never looks in her eyes, he never looks at her at all.

She's so weak even wrapping her arm around him seems like a struggle, but she does what he says and his arm wraps around her waist, "K, gonna stand now, ya ready?"

"Yes."

Yeah well, he doesn't think she's ready. He holds her tight to his side and lifts just enough so that her feet are barely gliding along the floor. He walks her out to what appears to be a small wooden building built flush to the side of the small cabin. She thinks it's awfully big for an outhouse, but whatever.

He opens the door, reaches in with his free hand and turns on a battery powered lamp, then proceeds to walk her inside and stand her next to the toilet. The dog is right behind him, it seems Jack always wants to know what happens next.

Wait! Surely this ass doesn't think she's going to use the toilet in front of him and his dog!

She's beyond relieved when he says, "I'll be right outside the door, holler if ya need me."

It would be a very kind thing to do and say, if he didn't always have such a grouchy tone. His voice is so rough it sounds like someone put rocks in the food processor.

At least the bathroom is a pleasant surprise. It's not an outhouse at all. It's a real bathroom with a composting toilet, a sink with a handle to pump fresh water, and everything is clean and new looking. The shower really has her attention. Oh my gawd, she'd love to take a long hot shower right now, but she's realistic. There's just no way she could manage to stand up long enough to do that.

The big concern this minute is getting her pants undone, getting them pulled down, and getting herself seated. It's typically so habitual, not anything a person gives even a thought to. But this is going to be tricky.

Beth leans her back against the wall for support, keeping her weight on her uninjured foot. She manages to get her pants undone and pulled down, then hops just two hops to the toilet. By then she's been holding it a long time and she breathes a big sigh of relief, then notices, wow, he even has toilet paper, and it's in a toilet paper holder mounted to the wall. She almost laughs out loud, she didn't expect the grouchy mountain man to be quite so classy.

It's when she's ready to get up from the toilet that the trouble begins. Darn it, her pants and panties are now around her ankles, how's this going to work? Before attempting to stand, she bends over clutching onto the waist of both, then begins pulling them up as she tries to stand, the trouble is, she only has one good foot and she's weak and lightheaded and feeling dizzy. She doesn't make it. She tips and falls to the floor with a crash, and he's there and Jack is there, and the man scolds, "I told ya ta call me if ya needed help. Dammit lady, Beth, whatever, shit, ya okay? Anything bleedin'?"

"I'm okay, I don't think I'm bleeding." She's crying silent tears as the man stands her up, leaning her chest against his as he bends and pulls her pants up, "You fasten em or whatever when you're back in bed. C'mon now, hang onto me."

He's so brusque, and the way he just took charge of the situation Beth would never in a million years suspect how embarrassed the mountain man is. His belly's clinched and his hands are sweaty, shit, he just wants to get her back inside and get this over with. But Daryl has had years of practicing how to never show what he's feeling or thinking, and she has no idea how mortified the man is.

Beth doesn't speak, she just does like he says. Her arms wrap around his neck and she's both shocked and impressed by the strength of this man when he lifts her in his arms. He even manages to get the lamp turned off and the door shut as he carries her out.

He lays her on the bed, and shit, he knows she's hurting and he knows he hasn't been all that nice, so he offers, "Ya probably wanna wash your hands and face? Lemme get ya a cloth and some warm water."

She's so weak and sore she's not even sure she can do a simple thing like wash her hands, she's honest with him, "I don't think I have the strength."

"A'ight, I'll help."

Maybe he doesn't do it as gently as she would, but she'd lay odds he's never done this sort of thing for anyone else, and gosh, after all these days the warm soapy water is a treat. It feels so good to at least have clean hands and a clean face.

He finishes up by checking her arms and legs for injuries from the fall, shrugs and says, "It don't look like ya did much more damage to yourself, but I think you're gonna have a new bruise or two comin' up." He checks her foot and ankle, lays them on the pillow, then he looks in her eyes and says, "Next time ask me for help."

He rolls his shoulders like he's signifying that's the end of that, and says, "I want ya ta have a drink of water and at least two good bites of food, then you can sleep. I got brown bread, and that oughta go down easy. Ya like that?"

"I've never had it."

"It's good shit, full a molasses, you'll see."

She eats a little, drinks a little, and then her eyes close and he knows she's done. Daryl covers her with the blanket, wonders if one is enough, takes the blanket off his easy chair and lays that over her too.

The man lays down next to the dog, wrapping himself in a quilt and laying an arm across Jack. He quietly tells the dog, "It's a lotta fuckin' work takin' care of a wounded bird, Jack. I ain't sure I'm cut out for this shit."

The words are no sooner out of his mouth than he hears the weak female voice respond, "I'm sorry."

"Ain't gotta be sorry. I'm pretty sure ya didn't get your foot caught in a trap on purpose. Maybe tomorrow you can tell me why the fuck you were halfway up the mountain and what the fuck happened. Now get ta sleep."

This year he's been on the mountain since early spring. Hell, he's spent the past four springs and summers up here, never going back down the mountain for anything. Just him and Jack, getting everything ready to make it their permanent home. This year he's been here since the end of February, and now winter's close at hand. He plans to be up on the mountain for that too. He can't think of anything that would make him go back to what folks like to call, "the real world." He's proving to himself he can live off the grid, and he plans to do it for the rest of his life.

It all started five years ago when Daryl was working a construction job in Columbus, GA. Some lawyer tracked him down and gave him the news. He was floored to find out he'd inherited five acres of ground and a broken-down cabin in the Rosewood mountains. Shit, you can't even buy land up there, it isn't allowed. The Forest Service and the State of Georgia had control of it all. Except this one plot of ground. It was homesteaded land and ownership was grandfathered in from decades back, from a time when no one gave two shits about remote mountain land.

It was his maternal grandpa's place, but Daryl had no recollection of the man. He died in a hunting accident when Daryl was just a baby. Although he never knew the man Daryl had heard plenty of stories.

For years Grandpa made moonshine up in the mountains, and never got hassled by the feds or the staties. It was so remote they didn't even know he was up there. When grandpa died, Daryl's dad turned the little cabin into his own place of business, the same business. Daryl and Merle referred to it as the Moonshine Shack, but not when their old man was around.

The last time Daryl was up that way he'd been about ten years' old, his Dad took him and put him to work for the summer. After that experience, Daryl knew enough to make himself scarce when the old man was "going to work." He didn't mind work, and he loved that mountain, shit, he'd have stayed forever if that mean ass fucking drunk wasn't part of the deal.

He left home as soon as he could and hadn't seen his dad in years. He didn't know he died. He asked the lawyer what happened, and the guy said, "It appears to have been a drug deal gone bad. I'm sorry to say, your father was shot in the heart and died instantly."

Daryl just said what was on his mind, "That don't seem possible, he didn't have a heart."

The lawyer made no response to that, he simply stated, "I didn't know where you might be, but I found your brother easy enough. I suppose you know he's doing time at Dodge State Prison in Chester," Daryl nodded and the guy went on, "He said he didn't want the place, that he had no use for it because he has another twenty years to serve so, he signed a quit claim deed which gives it all to you. Then he told me where to find you."

"No shit."

"Yes sir, he did ask that in exchange for the land you put money in his commissary on a regular basis, and that you come visit him as soon as possible."

The minute Daryl found out about the land the seed was planted. This was his chance to make a break from the world and move into the mountains.

There was nothing to hold him where he was, so he packed up what little he had, threw it in the back seat of the pickup, put his coolers, his weapons, his tent, his tools and all the camping gear he could cram into it in the bed and locked the canopy. He hitched the trailer with his ATV to the pickup, lifted his 8-week old pup, Jack, into the passenger seat and told him, "A'ight Jack, let's go see about our new home."

He stopped to tell the landlord to go ahead and keep the deposit, he was out, then drove to the job site to tell the foreman he quit and get the pay he had coming. From there he drove over to Chester, Georgia and Dodge State Prison.

Merle smiled when he saw him, "Hey little brother, look at you all tanned and fit. Poundin' them nails all day must agree with ya."

Daryl shrugged, "Yeah, I guess so. You're lookin' a little musclebound yourself, must be liftin' weights, huh?"

"Not much else ta do 'round here."

Those were the pleasantries, then Daryl got to the point, "What's this about you just handin' over five acres of land?"

Merle smiled that wall-to-wall grin of his and said, "C'mon kid, what the fuck would I do with that mess, shit, I'm stuck here for another twenty. You, on the other hand Daryl, you deserve ta have somethin' good happen for ya, and I know ya good enough ta know livin' on top of some mountain is your cuppa tea," he chuckled, "Shit even if I wasn't in here I couldn't live up there with no taverns and no women. Once I clear this joint I'ma just set up housekeepin' at Smokey Joe's Bar and Grill."

Merle had just convinced Daryl more than ever, it was the thing to do.

Then, in a move so sneaky the guards would never see it, Merle slipped a piece of paper into Daryl's hand. Daryl bent down as if to scratch his leg and slipped the paper in his boot.

The brothers talked a little more, then pretended like it was no big deal when visiting hours ended and Daryl had to leave, but the look they gave each told the real story of how they felt. They were the only family they had, and the brothers both missed those long ago days when they'd sneak away from home and go off hunting together, and sit around the campfire at night getting a little buzzed.

He wasn't sure what kind of conditions to expect, so when he left the prison Daryl stopped at the grocery store and got a weeks' worth of food and water for him and Jack. From there they made the trip up the mountain. It wasn't easy or fast. There was road for only about a quarter mile, then it was a matter of just making their way.

It was rough going and they were jostled, bumped, and tossed from side to side. It wasn't a trip most people would be willing to take. Poor little Jack bounced around like a bobbin on a stormy ocean, he was a trooper though. Daryl apologized to the puppy, "Sorry boy, there ain't no other way. You'll like it when we get there though." The pup threw up a couple of times and Daryl stopped the truck and helped him out. He took some time and ran around with the pup some, then gave him a little drink of water, cleaned up the vomit and said, "Sorry man, we gotta drive some more, we're not there yet," and lifted him back in the seat.

They finally arrived and the place looked even worse than Daryl remembered, but he didn't focus on that, he was too busy thinking about what it could be. A nice little cabin. Up here where he could live without anyone bothering him, and him doing the simple things that gave him some peace, hunting, fishing, and wandering around enjoying the quiet beauty of the land.

There would be plenty of work to do first though, but the place had good bones and Daryl wasn't afraid of hard work. His other advantage was, he'd been working construction jobs since he was a kid, he had plenty of skills. All he had to do was make a plan for himself, get the materials he would need, and get busy.

Before he did anything else though, he followed the diagram Merle had slipped him at the prison. It was a rudimentary floorplan of the cabin and Merle had drawn a big x on a spot on the kitchen floor. Daryl smiled, "X marks the spot, huh brother?"

He crouched down and pushed on the wood. Yep. He popped out a couple of floorboards and there it was, a metal tackle box. Shit, it was so old it must have been his grandpa's.

Daryl lifted the box out, walked to the kitchen table with it and opened the lid, but there was no fishing tackle inside. There was a big stack of money instead. For a split second he wondered, what's this? Then he realized, of course, moonshine money. He smiled at Jack and told the puppy, "Leave it ta Merle to know where that bastard's hidey hole was."

Then he sat himself down and counted it. Then he counted it again. Yeah, it probably wasn't quite enough to do everything he intended to do at his new mountain home, but it would put a major dent in the cost. Thanks Gramps and fuck you Dad.

Daryl hasn't been asleep more than an hour when she screams and him and Jack are both at her bedside in an instant. Daryl tries to be gentle as he shakes her shoulder, "Lady, hey Beth, hey, ya okay? What happened?"

She's disoriented, her head is still on the pillow and her eyes still closed, but she's shaking and her hand is rubbing over Jack's head when she starts talking, "I was walking through a forest and something grabbed my leg. It hurt so bad and I fell to the ground, and that's when I saw it was one of those, those things. You know, those dead people that come back to life. It was growling, chewing on my leg and then it looked at me and it's teeth were all bloody and then…and then you woke me up. Thank God."

"Shit, that sounds bad. Well, since you're up, how 'bout we try n get some more food and water down ya. I best have a look at that ankle too." He stood to go after the food, the drink and the first aid kit, but Jack stayed with her.

The dog's chin was resting on the edge of the bed and Beth whispered to him, "Your Dad just exudes kindness and empathy, doesn't he?"

Daryl called over his shoulder, "Hey, I heard that. I said it sounded bad. Was I s'posed ta start cryin' cuz ya had a bad dream?"

It actually made her laugh, my God he's just so…so what…so cold? No, he couldn't be, not really. There was no way he'd be doing everything he's doing for her if he was really as mean as he appears to be, or as harsh as he sounds. He's just got walls two feet thick and all the charm of a rattlesnake.

He's back with more water and bread and she apologizes, "I'm sorry Daryl, it's just that you're always a little grouchy."

"Yeah? Well, excuse the fuck outta me. I ain't used ta havin' company."

Beth doesn't want to laugh at him, he didn't mean it as a joke. Instead she drinks a few sips of water, eats two more bites of the moist brown bread, it really is delicious, and then the words spill out as she assures him, "I promise I'm not complaining. I'm sorry I interrupted your routine. I want to get better quickly too. I have to get home. They need me and I promised I'd be there to try and help save people. So many people are dying, oh my gosh, so many dead people. They're expecting me there, I need to be there, I need to take care of people. My boss probably thinks I have whatever it is too."

On that, she's out again. He doesn't think much about what she said, none of it made much sense to him. It's just the mumblings of someone who's wounded, and spent four days out in the elements with no food or water. She ain't in her right mind. He comes very close to smiling when the thought comes to him, she sure as hell doesn't look like some kind of wonder woman who could rush in and save a bunch of dying people.

He's up early and him and Jack go out to get the fire started, today's going to be a busy day. He gets a pot of grits going for all of them and he's cooking up some ham too. There's plenty of ham for her if she feels like she can eat it. Some protein might be good for her. He tells the dog, "It's kinda cold out here Jack, let's eat inside. If the lady wakes up, we'll feed her."

For now he sets her bowl of grits and a plate with some ham on top of the wood stove to stay warm, and him and Jack have their breakfast. After they eat Jack's laying by the fire, happy and content after their meal, and Daryl's at the table drinking a mug of coffee and staring out the window. He's thinking about his plan for the day. As soon as he gets her fed he's going to take care of the turkey. He'll clean and pluck it, then quarter it up so he can fit it in his oversized dutch oven. He'll dig a hole in the ground, put a layer of hot coals on the bottom, set the Dutch oven in the coals, then cover it with more coals. He'll bury it all and slow roast the bird. After they eat their fill tonight he'll use the bones, some of the meat, and a few carrots and some potato to make a soup. That'll be good for her. He'll be able to can some too. It'll be nice to have soup over the winter.

He stands from the table, anxious to officially start his day, and as if on cue she calls for him, "Daryl?"

"Yeah, I got your breakfast ready."

He can be sweet when he wants to be, but that's not her problem right now, "I'm sorry Daryl, but I have to go potty again. I don't think I can hold it."

Oh fuck, not this again, "A'ight, a'ight. C'mon, lemme help ya." It's the same routine as it was last night, but this time he doesn't leave her alone in the bathroom.

"I'ma stand behind ya and hold ya up under the arms while ya get them pants undone and down, and I'll hold ya while you're gettin' seated, don't worry I ain't lookin. Once ya sit, don't ya get up again til I get back. Got it?"

"Yes sir."

"That's right."

He leaves the bathroom, hurries in the house and gets an old hunting shirt, a long sleeve Henley that's worn thin from years of wear. It was about to become a rag. He goes back out, raps his knuckles on the bathroom door once, walks right in and asks, "Ya done?"

"Yes."

"Okay, you just keep sittin' there. I'ma turn around and you get your shirt n everythin' else off of ya. Lemme know when you're done, then I'll reach this shirt back to ya. It'll keep ya covered up for the time being."

"What do you mean? What are you going to do?"

"Well don't start cryin' or nuthin', but the truth is, your clothes are filthy and they stink. I'ma wash up some a my huntin' clothes later and I'll wash yours too."

"Okay, give me a minute." Could she be more mortified? No, she could not be, but she knows he's right and it will be nice to have something clean. It's just, oh my gawd, how humiliating. She gets her clothes off, he reaches behind him and hands her the shirt. She puts it on and says, "Okay, I'm done."

He lifts her under the arms again and leans her back against the wall, thank God the shirt hangs down passed mid thigh. He instructs, "Here, hang on and lean on me for 15 seconds while I add a scoop of wood shavings ta the toilet."

When he's done she finds herself in his arms again as he carries her back to the cabin, saying, "C'mon, you're breakfast is ready."

Surprisingly, she's almost as hungry as she is exhausted, and he compliments her as only he can, "Finally lady, I was wonderin' if you were ever really gonna eat anything. You're so skinny I was afraid ya might blow away."

"Thanks, I think."

"A'ight, I gotta go out and get get some shit done. You lay right there," he looks at Jack and says, "You're in charge. Ya come get me if there's trouble."

She's under the covers, her head's on the pillow and she's seconds from falling asleep, but she smiles, "Would Jack really do that?"

"Well yeah, he's got no idea what I just said, but he knows when there's trouble that he needs ta come get me."

He chops more wood and stacks it. He's got to have plenty to keep fires going inside and outside all winter. He puts the chips and scraps in a big wood bucket for fire starters, and he's satisfied with how much he's done today. Altogether he's probably got just over three cord, but shit, who knows how long and how cold winter up here will be. He'll chop more each day.

It's been a busy morning for Daryl but the dishes are done, the bird is cooking, wood is chopped, and shit, it's lunch time. That's good cuz he's hungry.

He opens the cabin door but there's no Jack rushing over and waging his tail to greet him, and she's not in the bed. Instead she's lying on the floor in front of the fire and all snuggled up to Jack. They're both sound asleep and Daryl just stands there taking in the scene for a minute. They look so peaceful, it's kind of sweet really, then Jack raises his head and Daryl questions him, "So what, you're her dog now?"

A/N I love Daryl, but I'm not so sure I want him taking me to the bathroom. Please leave a comment. The chapter photo is on my tumblr blogs gneebee and bethylmethbrick, there's a very sweet picture of Beth and Jack, please have a look. I'll be back next Thursday with Chapter Four of The Man on The Mountain, I hope you'll be here too. Until then remember, I love ya large! xo gneebee