A Marriage Chapter 5

In which Daryl's mission uncovers a dark secret. Something unexpected and frightening happens on the farm. Daryl and Maggie make plans for something good.


             Daryl liked to keep his team small, bringing only those he'd worked with before, and trusted. They were less likely to be noticed that way, and not being noticed was exactly what Daryl needed. To his left was Sgt. Paul "Jesus" Monroe, crouched down low and peering around a parked truck near the gate. To his right was PFC Tara Chambler. She gave the signal that the coast was clear, and Daryl checked to see if Jesus had gotten the memo. When he got the nod, they moved forward, keeping up the job of mapping out the area just beyond Beta Settlement's wall.

They'd been at it for three hours, were tired, cold, and running low on the adrenaline they needed to keep them alert behind enemy lines. Despite the rest he'd gotten earlier, and the frigid temperatures around him, Daryl's eyes were itchy and heavy. It also didn't help that the frozen grass crunched loudly beneath their feet, making it even more difficult to keep quiet. The fact that the longer they stayed, the higher their risk of detection ran, wasn’t lost on Daryl or his team.

There was slight sound, almost inaudible, like a snap. Daryl's eyes shot toward Tara, recognizing the warning. She all but dove behind a tree, and Daryl did the same, just in time to avoid a soldier on patrol. He moved past, looked around, forcing Daryl and his team to sneak around behind the trees to avoid the sweeping beam of his flashlight. A moment later there was the sound of a zipper, followed by a urine stream. After he zipped up, he moved on, heading back the way he'd come.

Stay, Daryl signaled to Jesus and Tara. They each nodded, and Daryl crept forward, careful to keep his steps in time with the man he ghosted, so that any noise his boots made would be mistaken by the soldier as his own. The man moved ahead, not bothering to keep quiet, making himself a target, secure in the belief the enemy hadn't crossed the Beta Settlement wall. He was wrong.

The lights of a small fort illuminated the night. Daryl took cover behind some bushes, took out his binoculars, equipped with night vision, and looked at the tiny text that flashed up in front of him, reading off the number of heat signatures picked up by the lenses, and their locations, but there were other forms moving that didn't have a heat signature, but still tracked by the binoculars. Walkers. From where he was, he spotted at least ten, likely more.

"This just isn't right."

Two men moved off from the rest. There was the peeing man Daryl had followed, who'd been approached by another man whose face had been covered by a green and black army issue balaclava. From where Daryl stood, he appeared to have Asian features, but exactly what race, he couldn't tell.

"What the fuck are we gonna do about it?" Peeing man said.

"Come on, Martinez, you can't really think this is okay? It's slaughter! We're supposed to protect our people, not endanger them."

Martinez shrugged, which visibly annoyed the other man. They stood there, looking back at the fort. After a few minutes, another two people approached. One was a very large black man, holding a thermos, and with him was a smaller black woman. She held up two steaming cups, which Martinez and the other man accepted.

"Everything moving along as planned, Williams?"

The large man nodded, but he didn't look happy about whatever the plan was.
"It's not right, what General Blake's doing," said the balaclava guy, again.

"You're starting to piss me off," Martinez snapped. "We've got a job to do, goddamn it, and you need to get your ass in line. All of you do. You're either with our people, or you're against us. What are you?"

"Of course I'm for our people!" Rhee shouted, “but how is murdering our people being ‘for’ them, exactly?"

"Keep your voice down," the woman warned.

"I agree with Glenn," Williams said.

Martinez sighed and shook his head, tossing out the last of the coffee he'd been given before handing the cup back to the woman.

"You talk about being for our people," said the woman. "You think what the General is doing is right?"

"I think the greater good is at stake. I think he's the boss and you’re not," Martinez retorted. "I think if you keep talking like this, I'm going to have to tell him you've got a problem with the way he runs things."

"He'd kill us for that," Williams said.

"Yeah, he would,” Martinez agreed.

"Are you threatening us?" the woman asked.

"I'm warning you," Martinez clarified. "One more talk like this, and you're as good as dead. Now back to work."

Martinez barely took five steps before Glenn Rhee made a move, and Daryl knew what was coming before any of the others did. Martinez didn't make so much as a tiny peep after Glenn plunged a knife up and into his skull, ending him forever: a kill and a piercing ceremony all in one smooth move.

Williams and the woman both looked on in shock as Glenn pulled Martinez's body over to the bushes and dumped him there.

"What the fuck?" the woman demanded.

"We've got two, maybe three hours before he's missed," Glenn said, leading them past Daryl. "I've got our stuff packed at the wall. All we need to do is get over the wall and ask to speak with General Walsh and see if he'll—"

"Who are you?" said a woman's voice nearby. “This is a restricted area.”

Everyone froze in place, even Daryl, as his ears honed in on the exact spot he'd left PFC Chambler.

"Fuck," he breathed, catching Glenn's attention. He was still holding the knife, dripping with Martinez's blood, when Daryl bolted past him.

There was a sharp pain on the side of Daryl's left leg. He ignored it and pushed on.

"Come with me if you wanna get to Walsh without getting killed as soon as you breach the wall," he snarled at Glenn, still running back to his people’s position.

Williams, Glenn, and the woman, shared a look, and then took off into the trees after Daryl.

The pain in Daryl's leg intensified with each step but he pushed on. He had to get his people home. He had to find out what the fuck Blake was doing that was so heinous his people were willing to defect in order to betray him to Shane Walsh.

They ran after Daryl to Tara and Jesus' position. A woman was dead, and she wore the black and green uniform of the Beta Settlement SL. A pair of dark eyes stared blankly up at the clouded night sky. Tara closed them and then ducked to hide from the search light.

"I had to. She spotted me," Tara explained.

"Run," Daryl said quietly. "Now."

They didn't waste time arguing. The sweep of the searchlight was too regular, too predictable, to catch them by surprise. They ducked and hid during its sweep until they were safely outside of its range. They just made it back to the wall before the sirens sounded. The woman's body had been discovered. They'd find Martinez soon enough.

"What the fuck did you do to me?" Daryl asked, once they'd dropped down on the other side of the wall.

"You ran past, startled me," Glenn said. "I cut you out of reflex. I don't think it's deep."

"Doesn't make it hurt less," Daryl snapped. His leg was throbbing, but thankfully it didn't slow him down. He'd been able to run and climb, which told him Glenn was right; the wound wasn't deep.

They jumped into the back of the truck Daryl had driven in, all of them crowded in and smelling of sweat turned sour from anxiety. Daryl ignored the smell and gunned the engine, speeding them onto the road and further into the settlement, where the tents Walsh's soldiers occupied dotted the field.

"You need to start talking," said Daryl. "Tell me everything, because I'm the one who'll decide if you get in to see General Walsh, or get hauled before a firing squad."

He called in to notify Shane he was coming in with prisoners, and then hung up to listen to Glenn's story. What he heard chilled him to the bone.

It was night so people were scarce, most of them turned in for the night, except for a security detail, but the entrance to their camp was clear. Daryl drove in and parked near the hospital tent, grateful for the warmth within. He was freezing, and bone tired.

"First you cut your hand, now your leg. Hold still," Dr. Cloyd cautioned, while she swabbed his wound with alcohol, which burned like a motherfucker. That was a fact he made sure to tell her.

"Could you be a little rougher?" Daryl snapped.

"Maybe if you were my girlfriend," she said, winking at Tara, who winked back. "As it is, quit being a baby."

"Report, Dixon," Shane said, entering with Rick beside him.

Daryl went over what he'd witnessed inside Beta Settlement's walls, careful not to leave out a single detail.

"There were walkers?" Rick asked, his brows lifted in surprise.

"I saw about ten," said Daryl, tossing Jesus his binoculars.

Rick and the others watched as the binoculars linked up with the 40inch monitor at the back of the tent. They stood there and reviewed the material in silence.

"Here," said Shane, circling the blue figures on the binoculars, which had been programmed to detect walkers and color them a vibrant shade of bright blue. "There's around ten of them."

"Look here, sir," Tara said, pausing the image and then using her hands to pull a smaller section of the screen back, zooming in.

"Jesus Christ," Rick breathed.

"I know," Jesus said, but the joke garnered no laughs while they stood in silence, looking at the evidence Daryl had captured.

"There's hundreds of them," Shane said, his voice low. He turned back to face the defectors. "Names."

"I'm Sgt. Glenn Rhee," the Asian man said, standing at stiff attention with Tyreese. "This is Staff Sergeant Tyreese Williams, and his sister, Sasha. She's a civilian medic, no rank. We want to defect, Sir. We're asking for asylum in Genesis Settlement.”

"You wanna tell us what the hell that was?" Rick asked, crossing his arms and nodding at the monitor with the images frozen on the screen.

He shared a look with Tyreese and Sasha, who both nodded at him to continue.

"Sir, there's no easy way to say this except to come right out with it," Glenn finally answered, sighing heavily. "General Blake has rounded up almost five thousand citizens and killed them, turned them into walkers. He plans to set them on the Genesis Security League if you attempt to interfere with his hostile takeover of Collins Settlement."

Shane ordered Daryl to get his wound taken care of before he took the defectors to another tent for further questioning. Daryl would normally complain about being left out, but the cut on his leg was hurting, and, frankly, he needed some rest. Maybe, he thought, he was getting too old to run around in the field behind young'uns like Tara and Jesus, but he'd be damned if he admitted it, not even to himself. Not yet.

He set the phone down after speaking with Maggie, and tried not to let his mind wander to things like maybe, just maybe, being married to her wasn't going to be completely unpleasant after all. Sure, he'd known her as a child, but he'd also been out of her life from her teen years until recently. He didn't know who she was now, as an adult, but he wanted to, even if the age gap made him a bit uncomfortable at times. She cared about him. That was obvious, from the talk they'd had. She really did want him to be safe, but not just because of the wedding.

Don't let it go to your head, Dixon, Daryl thought.

When Maggie denied that all she cared about was saving the farm, and that she cared about him, too, he couldn't find it within himself doubt her sincerity. There was something in her voice that was impossible to ignore. She liked him. She may never love him, but she at least liked him. So did Miss Jo, Beth, Patricia, and Otis. They actually wanted him in their house.

What was that going to be like?

He'd never felt wanted, needed, in a house. He'd only ever known polite welcome, and he'd always been painfully aware of how easily it could be worn out if he came around too much. He feared ever doing that, ever getting the feeling that the people in a place just wanted him gone, so he never went around. Rick had to practically beg him to come over. Shane and Lori had to all but drag him to their house on certain holidays. Both men had to take him hostage each year on his birthday to celebrate with beers and steaks down at the officers lounge.

Now it was going to be different. Instead of watching people with their families, happy or otherwise, he'd actually have one of his own. He was getting to it later in life, in his forties, but it was happening. He just feared that once he was married, he'd look into the eyes of the people in the house and know, just know, he'd overstayed his welcome, and they wanted him gone, but they couldn't get rid of him because they needed him to keep the farm.

Was that what would happen? Or were they actually going to welcome him in. Could they possible come to love him, and make him one of theirs? He wanted a family so bad he could almost taste it, yet at the same time the idea of it scared him half to death. Well, no matter what, he'd agreed to the marriage, and he was a man of his word. He'd see it through. Picking up the phone again, he called in an order. Cinnamon candy for Maggie, and she liked toothpicks to chew on, as well, if his memory served correctly.  He got mint for Miss Jo. He got something for Beth, and the others, too, so they wouldn't feel left out. He'd be going home day after tomorrow, and knew he could just give her flowers and candy then, but truth was, he was mortified at the idea of doing it face-to-face, especially after he flirted with her and received silence in return, so he called it in.

…

It was the night before Daryl was set to return that Maggie received a bouquet of roses and a box of candy. She expected chocolates to fill the box, a fairly standard gift from a man to his fiancé. Instead she received suckers, some fruit flavored, most cinnamon. There were some chewy cinnamon confections, and two little jars. One was of mint gum, the other was of cinnamon flavored toothpicks. The mint was labeled Miss Jo. Maggie's name was on the cinnamon. Beth had received a small box of cordial cherries, Patricia some flavored coffee creamer, and Otis a sack of his favorite beef jerky.

"I haven't chewed on toothpicks since I was a kid," Maggie said. "I can't believe he remembered such an insignificant detail like that."

"Makes you feel all fuzzy and warm in your belly when a guy does something like that, doesn't it?" Beth asked, smiling with a knowing gleam in her eyes.

"My belly ain't none of your business, but no, it's not warm and fuzzy," Maggie said.

"Liar, liar, your panties are on fire right now! I can tell," Beth teased.

Maggie only grinned, not bothering to deny it because, being honest, Beth wasn't wrong, and they both knew it. When her little sister reached for a cinnamon sucker, Maggie swatted her hand away.

"Fine, be stingy," Beth pouted.

"Says the girl who ate herself sick on cordial cherries and didn't offer me a single one," Maggie reminded Beth.

"I hope you get a cavity," Beth complained, but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. "You certainly will, all the sweets you ate this week."

Maggie chewed on a cinnamon toothpick, remembered how much she enjoyed it, and wondered why she'd ever stopped. She looked at the flowers she arranged in a vase and set on her desk. It had been years since she'd received flowers from a man. When she went to sleep that night, the bouquet was the last thing she saw.

…

It was early the next morning when her mother came to her room and shook her awake, her voice sounding tight with concern.

"Mama? What's wrong?"

"The field is on fire," Josephine said. She gripped her gown closed and tried to look out of Maggie’s bedroom window, where a bright orange glow was visible.

"What? How?”

Maggie hurried to get dressed and bundled, and less than five minutes later she stumbled down the steps. Fire trucks, sirens blazing, pulled up to the fire, just off the western access road. Maggie fully woke up when the frigid air struck her face, and she had to hurry past the barn with her mother so she could clearly see the field.

"Oh, Lord, look at that," Maggie whispered, seeing just how bad the fire was.

A moment later there was a jet of water spraying over the flames, which were frighteningly high. There was an angry, hungry feel to the fire. She watched the firemen, illuminated in the orange light of the conflagration, working to put it out. Several of the firemen motioned at them to clear the area, so they headed back to the house. Maggie wished her father was there to give her comfort.

"Mama, how could that have happened?" Maggie asked.

"I don't know,” said Josephine. "That grass, the rotted crops...It's burning like tinder."

Otis came onto the porch. His foot was much better, though he still needed his cane. He came down the steps and climbed onto the old ATV he used to navigate the property.

"Why don't y'all go back in, get warm?" he said. "I'll deal with this."

"Thanks, Otis. You've got school in the morning," she reminded Maggie. "Otis will handle it."

"It's 4:30. I'm up, now."

Over the next hour or so, she, Josephine, Beth and Patricia watched what they could of the fight to control the flames from the kitchen, gazing out of the window. They were discussing what to do when everything in the house went dark.

"The generator," Josephine said, sighing. "I'll look at it."

"Maybe I should call in," Maggie suggested. "They're fumigating the gymnasium today, and a few of the classrooms, so the students aren't allowed back until Monday. I'll just be grading papers anyway. Tomorrow's Friday. With something like this I doubt they'll dock my pay."

They all retreated to their rooms to get ready for the day, using candles to see by. Maggie called in, leaving a message for the office that she wouldn't be in until Monday, and the reason why. By 6:30, she and Beth headed out to check the generator, and they were both surprised to see Daryl kneeling next to it with a flashlight stuck between his teeth, as he tinkered with the old equipment. She was equally surprised at the unexpected warmth and affection she felt upon seeing him, and fought the urge to hug him.

"Welcome back," she said. He looked up, the bright light of the flashlight momentarily blinded her.

"Sorry," he said.

"Noah!" Beth said from behind them.

She took off running when she saw Noah Simmons with a toolbox in hand. He scooped Beth up and spun her around while she kissed him rather enthusiastically. Maggie smiled at the sight. She was a sucker for love, and she was happy her sister had found it. She looked at Daryl, who managed a light kiss to her cheek. It was sweet. It was friendly. That's all their kisses would ever be, she imagined. There wouldn't be the passion fueled enthusiasm like with Beth and Noah. For the first time ever, Maggie was jealous of Beth on the romance front.

"This unit needs refurbishing," Daryl said. "That'll take a week at best, so I'll order a new unit installed right away. Should be done by noon."

Considering he was going to move into the house in two days, Maggie didn't object to him having a brand-new unit installed. She looked away from Noah and Beth, who held hands as they approached.

"I'll let Mama know," Maggie said. "I'd offer you a cup of coffee, but there's no way to brew it without power."

"It's okay," he said. "I heard about the fire on the CB as I was driving into Genesis and had Noah bring some. Mr. Simmons?"

"Yes sir?" Noah said, releasing Beth and standing straight.

"Get the coffee for the family, and then join me out at the field," Daryl ordered.

"Right away, Major General Dixon."

"Sir's fine, Noah," Daryl said, looking uncomfortable.

"I thought you were a colonel," said Maggie.

"Got a promotion," he said, but he didn't look happy about it, and she wondered why.

Daryl shoved his hands in his pockets, gave Maggie a nod, and then started over to where the fire was burning. Two additional trucks were now fighting the blaze. She and Beth looked on, linking hands.

"That fire is even bigger. I'm scared, Maggie."

"They're holding a line between it and the house," Maggie answered. "We'll be fine, Sis. Don't be scared."

She sounded more confident than she felt when she accepted the coffee from Noah and led Beth inside. Truth was, Maggie was scared, too.

…

Maggie was looking for a small WindMachine unit to be attached to the side of the house, like their old one had been. Instead, men in SL uniforms came with a sleek, silver, twelve-foot high tower that was installed, out of sight, behind the stables. They spent the afternoon digging lines that led to the house, the stables, and finally the garage where the equipment was stored when not in use, and where Daryl's cars would eventually be parked. They set up a charging station so their vehicles wouldn't have to be serviced in town at Firth's. In Maggie's eyes, they'd just cost an old friend a client, but there was nothing she could do about it.

"You know, I've got an idea," Daryl said. He'd stopped beside Maggie while she watched the charging units installed, and passed her a cup of cocoa.

"Cocoa? Great idea. I love cocoa," she joked.

"I made it. Hope it's okay," he said.

It was delicious and she told him so. "Tell me your idea."

"We don't actually need to run this farm," he said, "not on my income, but what if we grew the crops anyway? Maybe even build greenhouses for winter growing. Then we can sell the produce cheap and use any profits to help the poor. We could make the market more competitive, and drive down prices so more people can afford better food."

Maggie turned to Daryl, unaware of how much her shock was written on her face. He must've taken it wrong because he shrugged.

"Bad idea, I guess," he said, sheepish.

"No, great idea! Daryl..." she stuttered, grinning up at him. Her smile was infectious, and soon he was smiling, too.

"I've always wanted to help people who need it," he said. "Grady Farm has no competition. When someone has no competitor-"

"They can charge whatever they want," Maggie said. "You know how that'll piss him off. He might go to General Walsh."

"Shane Walsh and I are on a first name basis," Daryl told her. "I know him well enough to know what he believes in, and I know that he believes in fair trade and competition. If a man makes something, it'll succeed or fail fair and square just as long as taxes are paid and the law is upheld. If we do this, Mike Grady will only complain once, I'll guarantee you that. If Mike Grady tries to bribe Walsh to go against one of his most trusted officers, well, he may never be seen again. Grady knows that."

"Aren't you afraid to trust a man like that?" Maggie asked. "A man who'd make someone disappear?"

"I have my reasons to trust him," he said. "I also trust his code, because I understand it. That's why I know this can work. It'll take the whole family to pull it off, though."

"Good thing you've got us," Maggie replied. "One thing we Greene's aren't scared of is hard work. Beth can't quit school, though."

"Definitely not," he agreed.

They were smiling at one another. Maggie reached out and punched him on the arm. "Did Mama tell you how guilty I feel about having so much?"

"No, but I can see it," he said. "It's easy to recognize guilt when you've lived with it for so long."

"What do you have to feel guilty about?"

"We've got a few years to get to know each other's secrets," he said. "Let's not rush."

He offered his arm and she looped hers through. Together, they went back into the house.

The fire was put out, and Maggie was relieved it didn't get too close to the house. An investigation was initiated to see how the blaze got started, but the fire marshal said he believed it was arson.

An argument broke out between Maggie and Josephine when her mother announced she'd be taking Maggie's room, while she and Daryl took the master bedroom downstairs.

"That's your bedroom, Mama," Maggie said.

"It's the bedroom of the head of the family," Josephine countered. "That's you and Daryl now."

"I'm not the head of the family," Maggie answered quietly.

"I'm stepping down, as I should," she answered, smoothing a lock of hair off Maggie's forehead. "It'll be you and Daryl running the house now, and I'll be the old mama bear who potters around until I die peacefully in my sleep. That's the way of things for those who are lucky, and we're a very lucky family."

In the morning, Daryl got some help from a couple of friends, to move his belongings to the house. Sgt. Abraham Ford, and Noah Simmons, helped, along with a couple of younger soldiers. They came in and moved Maggie's old bed into storage, before they put Josephine and Hershel's bed upstairs in Maggie's old room. While they did the heavy lifting, she and Daryl picked out a new bed from town.

All that day was spent switching rooms around, putting Maggie's things into storage. Josephine gifted Hershel's armoire to Daryl to keep his wardrobe in so Maggie could have the closet. That armoire had been passed down from generation to generation to the men in the family. Now it was going to Daryl.

He insisted on gifting Maggie with a new bedroom suit. She picked out the bed and the furniture, new curtains, rug, blankets, everything, including new clothes. Beth was jealous that her sister was getting so many new clothes that Daryl bought her a few new items to take some of the sting out of it.

"I bought a new car last year," said Daryl. "I've only driven it a few times. I usually use the SL jeeps. You can have it. I prefer you take it to work instead of biking."

"You trying to feed me candy plus eliminate all exercise from my life?" She teased.

Daryl laughed and nodded. "Ok, bike in good weather only."

"Deal," Maggie said, before taking out a cinnamon flavored toothpick to chew on.

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