Daryl watched Beth prepare breakfast. She moved
in silence, not so much as looking his way, even when she passed him two hard boiled
eggs and a shaker of salt. She sat down, put her knees to her chest, and waited
for him to finish. Her breath puffed in the cool, damp air of morning, but she
made no attempt to throw on a jacket or warm her hands over the cook fire.
He’d been too rough with her the night before.
Had he not been buzzing on rum and his blood pumping from that fight with Mark Rowley, he doubted he would have
even touched her. If he had, it would have been a much different experience
from what actually happened.
“I suck at dealing with women,” he admitted.
“Yeah, you do,” Beth readily agreed, still
staring into the fire. “You don’t have to treat me like I’m your enemy.”
I’m sorry wasn’t in Daryl’s
vocabulary, so he grunted instead. He ate breakfast in silence. When he was
done, he passed her the plate.
“You know how to shoot?”
She nodded. “My daddy taught me.”
He gave Beth a Beretta and a clip. “Load it.”
With practiced ease, Beth put the clip in and
chambered a bullet, then offered it back to Daryl. He shook his head.
“You keep it. Anybody bothers you, put them
down. After yesterday that ain’t likely to happen. Still…better safe than
sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m heading out on a run with Rick. We’ll be
back tomorrow night. Shouldn’t be longer than two days. If you need something
ask Merle. He’ll help you.”
“I will.”
He’d hoped Beth would wish him a safe trip, but
after what went down between them the night before, he figured he didn’t
deserve such kindness. Without another word, Daryl picked up his supplies and
met up with Rick at his RV. When he looked back, Beth was still sitting by the
fire, staring into it, looking miserable. He felt a good dose of guilt for
being responsible for that misery.
“What did you tell the Governor?” Daryl asked,
once the door to the RV was closed.
Rick shrugged and finished fastening his
harness. “That we’re going on a hunting run. It won’t be a complete lie. We
need to bag a buck anyway. Got mouths to feed here.”
“He ain’t gonna buy that,” Daryl pointed out.
“Probably not,” Rick agreed. “You wanna back
out?”
“No, I’m with you.”
They headed through camp. Beth had disappeard
back inside the tent. Daryl caught sight of Jessica leaving a different tent
than Mark’s and heading for the quarry with a towel and change of clothes in
hand.
“Huh,” he said.
“What’s that?”
Daryl nodded at the tent Jessica had just
exited. “Jessica just left Magwood’s tent. I guess she’s not with Rowley after
I kicked his ass.”
“You worried about your new woman?” asked Rick.
“I gave her a gun. She’ll have to protect
herself until I get back.”
Rick was aware that didn’t really answer the
question, but he didn’t press it. Daryl Dixon wasn’t a man who was open with
his feelings, and Rick wasn’t a man to pry.
“You know, I never would have figured you for
the type to go along with claiming women and treating them like property.”
“It’s the system here. I gotta play within the
rules, man. Giving her my token was the only way to protect her and keep her
from the other men.”
Rick nodded. “I know. Still, it shouldn’t be
that way. We’re better than that.”
“We are, the Governor ain’t,” Daryl answered.
He stopped when he reached the space where Jim’s tent had once been. His eyes
went to Rick.
“I don’t know,” Rick said. “After what happened
to Jacqui, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jim left. He’d made noise about getting
her out of here before. I hope that’s all that happened. I hope didn’t do
something stupid like challenge Brian directly.”
They headed out on foot to the main road. Once
there, they climbed into an old Chevy Chevette and headed north.
“These people armed?”
“Minor stuff. They don’t have nearly the firepower
we do. They also don’t have the fortitude it takes to take living human life. Brian will
run right over these people.”
“Why did you even tell him about this place?”
Daryl wondered.
“He’s been sending Shane and Merle out this
way. Eventually they were going to find Woodbury. Honestly? I think Shane would
have just saved everybody the time and mowed those people down like dead grass.
I think it’s best if I try to mediate.”
“Nothing you say is gonna have an effect on the Governor. He’s kill crazy, Rick,” Daryl pointed out, though he knew he wasn’t
telling Rick anything he didn’t already know.
Still, Rick nodded his agreement and continued
down the road. “That’s why I want to warn these people and give them a chance
to vacate.”
“What if they won’t?”
Rick shrugged then. “If they refuse to leave
then what happens to them after that is their own fault.”
*****
With the housework done--there wasn’t a lot to
do in a tent--and the laundry caught up, Beth decided to head
down to the quarry to wash up. As she gathered her washcloth and soap, she
caught sight of her reflection in Daryl’s shaving mirror.
She looked awful. Her hair was frayed and oily.
Dark circles looked almost as bruised as the black eye Jessica had given her.
The sucker marks Daryl had put on her were an angry red color that marred the
otherwise pristine skin of her throat.
The token with Daryl’s initials weighed heavily
around her neck. She’d foolishly believed that taking his mark would solve her
problems. Instead, she’d brought on a whole set of problems she wasn’t sure she
could handle. Also, being a claimed woman didn’t necessarily guarantee safety.
Some men just didn’t care, or thought they could handle another man in a fight
and would do what they wanted anyway. The truth of the matter was that she was
going to have to learn to fight for herself. Andrea would help out when she
could, Daryl would protect her as much as possible, but there were going to be times when
the only one who'd be around to fight for Beth, was Beth.
With that being the case, Beth slipped a knife
into the side of her boot and then peered outside. She looked for trouble in
the form of either Mark Rowley or Jessica, the girl he’d taken back in. She
didn’t see them, but she didn’t think that meant she was out of danger, either.
Jessica had ambushed her once. Beth wasn’t going to let that happen again.
Seeing that Andrea wasn’t around, and deciding
she wasn’t going to live what little bit of a life she had left huddling scared
in the tent, Beth stepped back out into the cool, moist morning air. She pretended she didn't have a care in the world as she started for
the quarry. She earned interested glances from several men and women in camp,
and their eyes invariably went to the marks on her neck, as well as the token
that hung there. She didn’t see Mark Rowley nearby and she hoped his confrontation with Daryl had been enough to cow him into
behaving towards her.
Down at the quarry, Beth went to the area where
tarp had been hung up to offer privacy for bathing. She took off her clothes
and listened for any sign of approaching steps. She heard nothing and made
quick work of lathering up and rinsing. Her hair took the longest and she
worried that while she rinsed out the soap someone would jump her but,
thankfully, that didn’t happen.
Now cleaned up, Beth took a moment by the edge
of the water to wash the outfit she’d just taken off. She was half way through
when she heard the crunching sound of a boot on the rocks. She whirled around
just in time to avoid Jessica’s downswing. The big stone she had in her hand
glanced off Beth’s left shoulder, making her cry out in pain.
The forward momentum from missing her target
upset Jessica’s balance and she stumbled forward. Beth used the advantage to
shove Jessica face first into the water and then deliver a hard kick to her
ribs. Jessica sputtered but got to her feet with fierce determination, still gripping
the rock, her eyes bright with what Beth now recognized as not just bitterness,
but madness.
“You bitch. Because of you Daryl shamed Mark. I
had to leave him to be with that piece of shit Lee Magwood!”
“I didn’t make Mark disrespect Daryl,” Beth pointed
out. “You don’t know it, Jessica, but you’re crazy.”
“I love Mark,” she announced, somewhat
dramatically.
Beth gripped her smarting shoulder. “I have a
feeling he doesn’t love you. I don’t think he loves anyone but himself. If you
touch me Daryl’s going to find out and he’ll come after you. He won’t care that
you’re a woman. You can’t touch what’s his.”
Jessica, who seemed rather fond of spitting,
spat in Beth’s general direction. Her blood tainted spittle barely missed Beth,
who stepped back to avoid it. “Fuck you and fuck your piece of shit
boyfriend, Dixon. He’s trash and so are
you.”
Jessica pressed in on Beth, swinging with the
rock again, and once again Beth moved to put space between them. She saw
several people gazing on from the edge of the quarry. Andrea was coming down
the path, as was Shane, their towels and clothes in hand. She knew that Shane
would do nothing to interfere, and she doubted she’d let Andrea jump in, unless
Beth was damn near dead.
The rock came close to striking Beth in the
face. She fell back on a big rock jutting out from the ground and landed painfully on her
back. With a feral screech, Jessica lunged and brought the rock down hard. Beth
moved to her right and the rock hit the ground where her head had been. Acting
purely on instinct, Beth pulled the knife from her boot and brought it straight
up into the tender flesh just under Jessica’s sternum.
Jessica made a sound, a very soft, surprised
“Oh,” before collapsing full-weight onto Beth. She rolled the girl off, feeling
blood run over her hand. When she looked down into Jessica’s face it was to see
her eyes wide open, staring without seeing at the quarry wall opposite them.
She was perfectly still.
She was dead.
“Beth,” Andrea said, coming to her side. “Are
you okay?”
“I killed her,” Beth said vacantly. “Oh, God,
Andrea…I killed her.”
*****
Woodbury
wasn’t quite what Daryl had expected. He’d assumed the wall that had been built
would be nothing more than some particle board and chicken wire. Instead it was
a well made, heavy wall with swinging wooden doors, high, and manned with two
guards who stood atop it with pistols. He could tell, however, by the way the men
held their weapons in trembling hands that they weren’t keen on shooting living
men who could potentially be invaders, just as Rick had said.
Rick turned off the ignition and stepped out
with Daryl. The men on the wall relaxed once they saw who was there.
“Rick,” one of them said.
“Donny. I need a word with Bernard, if you don’t
mind.”
“Sure thing. We’ll get the door open.”
A few moments later and the heavy door was
opened and Rick drove inside. He parked in one of the slots of the main street
and greeted the woman who’d operated the door to let them in. She was a sturdy
woman in her fifties. She didn’t carry a gun but she had a monstrous looking
buck knife strapped to her ample hip.
“Beverly. Good to see you.”
“You too, Rick. I want to thank you again for
saving my Bernie from those walkers last week.”
“No problem. In fact, I’m here to see Bernard.
This is my friend, Daryl Dixon. Daryl, Beverly Ashman. She’s the official First
Lady of Woodbury.”
She shook her head in amusement at the title Rick had bestowed upon her, and then offered Daryl a
firm handshake that he could respect. “Ma’am.”
“Good to meet you, Daryl. Bernie’s in the
office he set up in that lawyers office down the street. You remember the one?”
“Stanton and something. Yeah.”
“Rick?” Beverly asked. Her brown eyes were warm
but also full of concern. “Is trouble coming?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Rick said honestly.
Beverly wasn’t a wilting lily. She took the
news with a firm nod of her head and then motioned for Rick and Daryl to
continue.
The street was quiet, deserted. It seemed that
the three they’d encountered so far were the only ones to inhabit Woodbury, but
Daryl knew that looks could be deceiving. For all he knew there could be
several snipers positioned on the rooftops or in the top floors of the
buildings looming above. Rick had said there weren’t many of them; twenty-five or so. Only three of them were out to make themselves potential
targets, which was smart, in Daryl’s opinion.
The law office of Stanton and Jesmer was closed
for business as far as the law was concerned. In fact, there was a bucket of
paint outside the spacious office. Daryl could only make out the names on the
sign through the first coat of primer mostly because of grooving. Rick knocked
on the door before entering to see a man in his mid-sixties wiping down the
mahogany receptionists desk with wood oil. He smiled brightly upon seeing Rick.
“Richard! Or possibly Patrick. Come on in!”
“Just Rick, Bernard,” Rick said, accepting a
hug from the older man.
“Very few people are named by a nickname,” he
said, wagging a finger at Rick. “Still, every man is entitled to be called what
he will. Rick it is. Who is your friend?”
“Daryl Dixon. Daryl, this is Bernard Ashman.”
After a shaking of hands, Bernard offered them
bottles of water and motioned for them to sit down.
“I take it you talked to your group leader,
Brian?”
Rick nodded. “It isn’t good news, just as I
thought. He’s going to take Woodbury, Bernard. He’s not a man to take
prisoners, either.”
Bernard took the bad news with aplomb. He
nodded and regarded the street outside with composure while he sipped his
water.
“We have guns, you know. Our men are good at
shooting.”
“They’re good at shooting walkers. I honestly
don’t think they have it in them to kill living men,” Rick doubted.
“I think Rick’s right. The men on the wall had
shaky hands when they saw us drive up, before they realized it was Rick,” said
Daryl.
Bernard nodded. “Here’s the thing. We’ve been
running since this thing started. We finally found a good place, a place we can
call our own. We’re tired of being bullied by men and picked off by walkers,
Rick, Daryl. There comes a time when a man, and a woman, has to make a stand
for what’s theirs. That time is now.”
Rick sighed heavily and exchanged a glance with
Daryl. This was exactly the kind of reaction Rick had feared Bernard would
have.
“Bernard…I respect that philosophy--”
“But it’s gonna get you and all your people
killed,” Daryl broke in. He stood, gripped his crossbow, and aimed it right at
Bernard.
“Daryl, what the fuck are you doing?” Rick questioned.
“I’m gonna take this crossbow outside right now
and put a bolt through Beverly’s leg,” Daryl said. “The only thing that’s gonna
stop me is you.”
Bernard looked rather alarmed at Daryl’s sudden
display of aggression. He looked at Rick. “Is he serious?”
“I honestly don’t know. Are you serious, Daryl?”
There was something in Rick's expression that told Bernard this wasn't some stunt the two men had cooked up on their way to Woodbury, and that alarmed him.
“I'm as serious as a hungry walker,” Daryl said. “Rick said
you may not listen so I decided, on the way here, I’m going to give you a
little taste of what the Governor is gonna lay down on you and your people when
he rolls in here with men who are every bit as bad as he is. I’m not fuckin’
with you old man! I’m gonna put a bolt in your woman. I could hit an artery
and make her bleed out in the street. You’re the only thing standing between me
and her.”
Daryl swung around and started for the door.
His hand rested on the knob when he heard the click behind him. He looked
around and found Bernard had raised his gun.
“Why would you bring a man like him here?”
Bernard asked shakily. His hand trembled.
“I didn’t know he’d do this,” said Rick,
tightly. “Daryl, stop this and sit--”
“No. I ain’t stoppin’ shit. You want me to
stop, Bernard? Then you stop me. It’s me or your wife.”
He opened the door and a shot fired.
“Daryl!” Rick yelled.
The shot shattered the window to Daryl’s right.
He didn’t flinch, much, and kept on outside.
“That’s the only warning you’re going to get!
Stop!” shouted Bernard.
Daryl gave him a single glance before he
continued on, stalking down the street, with Bernard and Rick hot on his tail.
“Daryl, that’s enough!” Rick insisted, but Daryl wasn't listening, and he wasn't going to stop.
Daryl ignored Rick. Bernard tried to rush past
him but Daryl shoved him out of the way. He reached the gate and leveled his
bow at Beverly, who stood with her hand on her knife, watching the
confrontation with confusion, but also stoicly, her back straight, her
eyes locked on Daryl’s.
“Last chance, Bernard,” said Daryl. He glanced at the men on the wall. “How about ya’ll? Anybody gonna make a move to save
Woodbury’s official First Lady? Huh? Anybody gonna stop me from putting a bolt
in her?”
Daryl’s crossbow was level and steady, as it would be in the hands of a man who'd killed living humans as well as walkers in his lifetime, and never lifted it unless he intended to fire it. The men
on the wall aimed at him, but their hands trembled even harder than Bernard’s. None of them were capable of doing what it took to protect Beverly.
“Its okay, Bernard,” Beverly said. “I love you.
If you can’t kill, even for me, I don’t think any less of you for it. In fact,
I don’t want you killing anyone, not even for my safety.”
“And that attitude,” said Daryl, lowering his
crossbow, “is exactly what’s gonna get every single one of y’all killed when
the Governor rolls up to this wall.”
Bernard sighed and sagged when the crossbow was
lowered. So did the men on the wall. Rick shook his head, his heart thudding
hard in his chest. He’d genuinely been confused and scared that Daryl would
shoot Beverly. He knew the Dixon brother’s, especially Merle, to be erratic, unpredictable.
For a brief moment he was certain Daryl was going to make good on his threat
against Beverly. Thankfully, he’d just been illustrating a point in a way that
no amount of talking from Rick was going to accomplish.
“You lucked up when Rick found you,” Daryl said
to Bernard. “He’s a good man. He’s a man of honor. The Governor ain’t. He’ll
kill your men, and what women he decides to take will wish they were dead, real
quick.”
A shot suddenly rang out. Rick thought,
for a moment, someone had gotten the
nerve up to take Daryl out. Instead, Donny cried out in pain. He looked down,
blood blossomed from a massive hole in his chest. He fell forward, hitting the
street in front of Rick, Daryl, and Bernard, dead. His body barely missed
Beverly, who gasped and rushed to her husband’s side.
“What the fuck?” Rick said. He hurried to the
ladder beside the gate and climbed up, Daryl close behind. When they got there,
the remaining man, Rick thought his name was Ned, stood shaking and wet from
having pissed himself.
On the other side of the wall were three men.
Shane Walsh, Lee Magwood, and Merle Dixon. Shane’s gun was still aimed at the
wall, at Ned. Rick shoved him from the wall. Ned may break an ankle in the fall,
but he’d survive it, which was more than Rick could guarantee if he remained in
Shane’s sights.
“Rick, we thought you'd be here,” Shane said, smiling coolly at him. “The
Governor sends his regards.”
Next Chapter
Next Chapter
I can't get enough of this fic!!
ReplyDeleteAw, thanks! :D
Delete