@ShaneFan,

Of all the chapters I've written of The Walking Dead, chapter 4 has been my favorite, so I'm glad you enjoyed reading it!

1. I'm mostly conservative, but I like Aaron and Eric. I'm proud that Aaron matches his character on the show. It's noteworthy that it was Aaron who could see Daryl and Carol were a couple, while Rick and Michonne were oblivious to it.

2. The secrets Daryl and Carol are keeping from each other are beginning to take their toll. Eventually they'll have to confess the things they've done to survive.

3. The Fremont's story was a tragedy. Harvey was the first casualty of Aiden Monroe's incompetence as a leader. Susan couldn't handle the loss of her husband so she committed suicide, but she turned and killed her son Carl while he slept. Aaron didn't keep it a secret from anyone: the Alexandrians were so sheltered, they didn't know people turn no matter how they die. All the neighbors helped clean up the Fremont's house. I can understand them being protective of the Fremont's house, but they're also being disrespectful to Daryl and Carol.

4. Daryl's finally wearing new clothes. The clothes are a size larger, and the boots a size smaller. Daryl doesn't look...well...ridiculous, but its the reality that survivors will eventually start wearing clothes that aren't a perfect fit.

 

@ShaneFan

Thank you for reading chapter 5.

Abraham and Eugene are a challenge to write: Abraham because of his fondness for unique curses, and Eugene for his extensive vocabulary.

Michonne thought it best to tell the group that Daryl and Carol are a couple. You shouldn't be surprised that Glenn and Maggie were surprised, because those two are so obsessed with each other. Beth would testify to that...but she's dead.

In regards to Carl's reaction to the news about Carol killing the sickly Karen and David: Carl has shown that he'll try to rescue someone regardless of the risk. Carl tried to save a stranger who was surrounded by walkers, but Rick stopped him. Carl was also the one that led the group to Father Gabriel. I believe Carl's adopted Rick's previous attitude of going the extra yard to save group members and even complete strangers.

 

Thank you, @ShaneFan.

I miss Merle, too. In my TWD epic "To Live Again", Merle's spirit visits Daryl in a dream, and before Merle leaves, he tells Daryl to watch out for Carol, and that "she'll do right by you." I used the deleted scene where Carol threatened Merle if he tried to mess with Daryl's head, so he knew that she cares about his little brother.

In earlier replies, I said Merle's spirit would return in a later chapter. Right now I don't think that would work. Maybe Merle's spirit will return in a future story arc.

 

CHAPTER 10​

Carol stepped out of the Fremont's house wearing her raincoat, white cotton pullover shirt, green cargo pants, and her buckled boots; her Colt Detective Special and her trench knife were on her hips, and her Colt M16A4 rifle was slung over her shoulder. Carol walked over to the main gate, climbed the ladder that led to the rampart along the wall. After a few minutes of standing still, Carol started to pace nervously; the last time she felt this worried for Daryl was last year when he went alone to hunt the Governor, now here she was again, standing guard over the group's home, waiting for Daryl to return.

Daryl had left Alexandria with a small group on his plan to scavenge a supermarket warehouse several miles away. Normally, Daryl leaving on a run or a hunt was no cause for worry, but the warehouse was also the Wolves' lair, and there was no telling if any surviving Wolves had run back there. There were also the possibilities that a few Wolves stayed behind to guard the warehouse, or that Daryl's group could run into a group like the bikers that tried to rob him, Abraham and Sasha a few days ago. Carol cursed under her breath and wished Daryl had let her accompany him on the run.

Carol stopped pacing and wondered why Daryl insisted on Morgan accompanying him in the scout car. Carol remembered how enraged Daryl became when she confessed that Morgan caused the bruises on her back by body slamming her onto his basement floor...all to stop her from killing the Alpha Wolfe he was hiding in his basement.

Was Daryl going to kill Morgan? Or was Daryl going to set Morgan up to be killed by the Wolves?

Carol shook her head. No. Daryl promised that he'd leave Morgan alone. It was most likely that Daryl was going to threaten Morgan. Carol giggled at the thought of Daryl —with his gravelly voice —threatening Morgan with a warning like: 'Stay away from Carol, or I'll skin you like a deer.'

Daryl would be returning soon, but Carol suddenly realized that when he did return, so would the burden of keeping the secret of Lizzie and Mika's death from him. Carol's left hand clasped the collar of her buttoned coat as she remembered the sight of Lizzie with a bloody knife in her hand, standing over the body of her little sister Mika.

Don't worry. She'll come back. I didn't hurt her brain, Lizzie said with a smile.

A tear ran down Carol's cheek and fell onto her raincoat. There had been numerous signs that Lizzie was dangerous: she had given the walkers names at the prison, at the cabin in the grove she was hysterical when Carol killed the walker she was playing with, she ignored all of Carol's warnings that walkers were dangerous; in the end, the one person who saw the warning sings was Mika, who said of her big sister, "She's messed up, not weak".

Carol ran her hand across her eyes. Why was she still crying for two girls that she barely knew when she could no longer cry for her own daughter Sophia? If only she had kept Sophia by her side on the highway. If only she had pushed Lori aside and gone after Sophia when she ran into the woods to escape those two walkers, she would be alive today.

Carol exhaled and looked to her left and to her right; she was still alone on the rampart. She looked forward and saw one female walker shuffling out of the tree line. Watching the walker slowly approach the wall made Carol realize why she still cried for Lizzie and Mika, and not Sophia: Sophia had been bit, died, and turned into a walker; Lizzie and Mika were killed but they stayed human.

The sound of someone climbing up the ladder snapped Carol out of the cold memory. She looked to her right and moments later, saw Maggie peeking over the top of the ladder.

"Mind if I join you?" Maggie asked with a smile.

Carol smiled in return and nodded.

Maggie—with a Ruger Mini 14 rifle slung over her back— climbed over the ladder and stood on the rampart. Maggie quickly saw the female walker , so she lifted the rifle over her head, flicked the safety off, took aim, and pulled the trigger.

BRAKA!

The bullet struck the female walker above its left eye, and exited out the back of its skull, taking blood and brain matter with it. The female walker fell backwards onto the field.

Maggie smiled with pride and leaned the Ruger against the wall; then she placed her elbows on the edge of the wall and leaned forward like a tourist taking in the view at the top of the Empire State Building.

After a minute of gazing quietly at the road that stretched into the horizon, Maggie said, "They're alright."

Carol gazed at the road, too. "Yeah," she answered.

"I mean, Glenn's a great scavenger. And Daryl...he killed two walkers with an arrow in his side. I'm not worried at all."

Carol smiled as she remembered that incident two years ago when Daryl left the farm on horseback to search for Sophia, and hours later he came back stumbling on foot and with an arrow in his side caused by a tumble downhill in which he ended up getting pierced by one of his crossbow's arrows. Andrea mistook Daryl for a walker and shot him with a hunting rifle. The bullet grazed Daryl's temple, but it did knock him unconscious for several minutes.

After Rick and Shane carried Daryl inside Hershel's farmhouse, and the old veterinarian treated the wound. Carol brought dinner up to Daryl's temporary room, and she found him lying in bed, bashfully covering up his bandaged wound with the bed sheets. Carol appreciated Daryl's efforts to find Sophia—even if it tragically ended up being in vain—so she kissed him on the forehead, and he scrunched up like a dog that had been kicked every day of its life.

You need to know something. You did more for my little girl today than her own daddy ever did in his whole life, Carol confessed.

I didn't do anythin' Rick or Shane wouldn't have done, Daryl grumbled tiredly.

I know, Carol said with a soft smile. You're every bit as good as them. Every bit.

Daryl froze, as if he wasn't certain he heard Carol correctly. Carol stepped out of the room, and closed the door softly behind her.

 

"Carol?" Maggie asked in a serious tone.

Once again, Carol was snapped out of a daydream; she blinked and saw that Maggie was looking puzzled at her. "Yes?" Carol asked.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Oh!" Carol exclaimed as she blushed, "I was thinking about what you just said about Daryl and Glenn: They're smart. They'll be alright."

Maggie nodded. "Yeah, we're worrying over nothing."

Carol smiled too, and she and Maggie resumed gazing at the horizon.

A few minutes later, Maggie said, "Well, I'd say some congratulations are in order."

Carol looked at Maggie. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Maggie looked at Carol and smiled again. "I mean you and Daryl. Congratulations."

Carol blushed and glanced down at the rampart. "Thank you."

"So...how long have you two been—how should I put it—seeing each other?" Maggie asked teasingly.

Carol blushed a deeper shade of red, and glanced around for an escape route; seeing there was none available, she decided to confess. "Since last year...back at the prison."

Maggie's eyes widened in surprise. "No shit? I...I never picked up on that. I mean, I knew you two were close, but...why didn't you and Daryl tell the group?"

Carol smiled again as she remembered the night she and Daryl first made love. In the morning he asked her how they should tell the group about each other, and her answer was swift and firm. "It was none of the group's business."

Maggie blinked, startled by the authority in Carol's voice. "No. No, I guess it wasn't," she said as she glanced down at the rampart.

Carol let her fiery glare burn into Maggie for a minute longer before she gazed out at the road once again. Several minutes passed until Maggie spoke, "I'm happy for you, that's all."

Carol turned her head slightly to the right and saw Maggie was leaning forward against the wall and staring at the road again, this time her chin rested on her forearms.

"My dad kept the group on his land for two reasons: so Carol would have time to heal, and until Rick found your little girl, Sophia. I knew nothing about you or your daughter, but I wanted to help find her. I gave Rick my dad's county survey maps to plan out a search grid. I joined the search; even Beth's boyfriend, Jimmy, helped out. After Daryl got hurt, and me and Glenn...got close, I...gave up searching." Maggie sniffled and she rubbed a hand across her eyes. "I'm sorry, Carol. I'm sorry that I was only thinking about myself."

Carol said nothing and looked straight ahead. She remembered that after Daryl's injury, the group, one-by-one, gave up searching for Sophia. Maybe it was Shane's insistence they all should continue on to Ft. Benning, or the apparent security of Hershel's farm, or everyone focusing on their own drama, but the result was the same. Everyone who was able-bodied stopped looking for Sophia.

Carol couldn't be angry with the group over that anymore. Their efforts would've been in vain anyway.

Carol closed her eyes and remembered the aftermath of the barn massacre: a dozen walkers—including Maggie's stepmother and stepbrother, lay on the ground riddled with bullets. Slowly a low growl drifted from inside the barn, and a small figure shuffled out into the open. It was Sophia, Carol's precious little girl, who had days earlier run into the woods out of fear of walkers, had become a walker herself.

Carol ran to her daughter, but Daryl stepped in front of her, wrapped his arms around her, and held her tight as Sophia staggered towards the group. Carol called out weakly to Sophia, but she didn't answer, she never would again; Sophia had died a long time ago.

The group watched in stunned silence as Sophia staggered closer. Finally, Rick stepped forward, drew his revolver, and took aim.

BANG!

The bullet struck Sophia in her forehead and she fell forward and hit the ground. The gunshot echoed across the sky and as it faded away it was replaced by the sound of Carol crying for her dead daughter.

 

"I didn't know she was in there," a voice said, rising over her tears.

Carol blinked and looked to her right. Maggie was leaning over the wall again, resting her chin on her forearms.

"What?" Carol asked.

"Me and Dad, we didn't know Otis put her in the barn," Maggie answered quietly.

Carol studied Maggie for a minute, looking for any sign that she was lying. "Really?" she asked.

"Really," Maggie nodded tearfully. "I heard Otis barge into the house, and say he was going out on a hunt. By the time I stepped onto the porch, he was already stomping through the field, with his rifle in his hands. I called out to him, but he ignored me."

Maggie wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at Carol. "Otis was a good man, Carol. He and Patricia tried to have children, but couldn't. I know...finding Sophia like that...upset him."

"Yes, I'm sure it upset him greatly," Carol sneered as her blue eyes burned with anger.

"Carol...please..." Maggie whimpered as she stepped away from the wall's edge.

"That fat bastard put a snare pole around my little girl's neck and dragged her into a barn for your father's walker collection."

Maggie's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "Car...Carol. I'm...I'm sorry. I'm sorry about Sophia."

"That wasn't my little girl anymore," Carol said coldly, repeating the statement she made to Lori and Daryl from two years ago.

"Carol! My...stepmother and stepbrother were in that barn, too!" Maggie shouted.

"No," Carol said firmly as she shook her head. "They were dead, too. All that was in that barn were monsters."

Maggie's green eyes turned dark and her jaw clenched tightly. She drew her right hand back and made a swing to slap Carol, but the older woman blocked it with her left arm while she let her Colt M16A4 rifle slide down her right arm and fall onto the rampart. Carol shoved Maggie against the wall, and the farm girl hit the wall with a thud. Carol grabbed hold of Maggie's shirt with her left hand, and with her right hand she drew her Colt Detective Special and pressed its barrel underneath Maggie's chin.

"C...Carol!" Maggie gulped, wide-eyed, her complexion bone white.

Carol said nothing. Her blue eyes were still ablaze, and her index finger was on the trigger.

"What the hell's going on up there?" a voice asked.

Carol glared down past the rampart, and saw one of the Alexandrians looking up at her and Maggie. "Were you girls fighting or something?" he asked with a puzzled look on his face.

Carol looked at Maggie and saw the fear in her eyes. She looked at her gun pressed underneath Maggie's chin, and she gasped when she realized she could've shot her friend.

It would've been murder, Carol thought, another murder.

"Hey, someone up there understand English?" the man asked, now annoyed that he was being ignored.

Carol trembled with shock as she let go of Maggie and stepped back, the gun in her hand felt heavy as a cement block.

"You crazy bitch!" Maggie shouted as she stood straight.

Carol tried to speak, but couldn't. Maggie angrily brushed her shirt, grabbed the Ruger Mini-14 rifle, and she took an angry step towards Carol. "Stay the hell away from me," she threatened.

Carol stopped trembling and dropped her arms to her sides. Maggie slung the Ruger Mini 14 rifle across her back, and angrily climbed down the ladder, and stomped past the Alexandrian as she made her way towards the group's home. The Alexandrian looked back and forth at Maggie and Carol, and he threw up his hands in confusion and walked away.

Alone on the rampart, Carol holstered her gun, covered her face with her hands, and wept uncontrollably. The grief made her sink to her knees, and she put her back against the wall. When Carol finally calmed down, she took a deep breath, and wiped a her tears. She had just pulled her gun on Maggie. The group—maybe all of Alexandria—would know about it by tonight. In the morning they'd show up outside the group's house and demand Rick exile her from their town. She thought it was likely that Rick would agree; he knew about Karen and David, so he could easily believe she could kill Maggie.

Carol drew in her legs and wrapped her arms around her kneecaps. She knew when Daryl returned, he'd be told she had pulled a gun on Maggie. He'd defend her of course, but Carol felt she wasn't worth defending. She still kept the truth about Lizzie and Mika's deaths from him. She had to tell Daryl the truth. It would likely drive him away from her, but he deserved to know what a monster she had become.

 

"Was it necessary to tie him up like that?" Morgan asked angrily.

Daryl glanced over his left shoulder at Mikey, sitting tied up and gagged in the back seat of the Porsche 911; the boy looked back with scared eyes. Daryl resumed watching the road through the cracked windshield and grumbled an affirmative to Morgan's question.

"He's just a kid," Morgan said, repeating the line he said back in the warehouse.

"He's a kid who came at you with a knife. Excuse me straight to hell if I don't give him another chance at killin' both of us," Daryl grumbled.

"That doesn't mean he deserves to be treated like this. He was kidnapped...held prisoner," Morgan pointed out desperately.

"No shit," Daryl nodded, "good thing we went in there and killed all those sons of bitches, huh?"

For a few moments, Morgan glared at Daryl. "Killing is wrong."

"Call the cops," Daryl quipped as he continued watching the road.

Morgan leaned on his elbow on the passenger door's arm rest and stared at the rear view mirror. Somewhere two or three miles behind them, Michonne, Glenn, and the rest of the convoy were bringing up the remaining food they took from the Del Arno Foods warehouse. The food was desperately needed back in Alexandria, but in Morgan's mind, the price was too high.

Daryl and the others had killed seven emotionally disturbed people. Morgan wished he had insisted on negotiating with the Wolves, but Daryl and Abraham made him back down. He had proved with the New Alpha Wolf that there was still a chance to settle differences without violence; that there was still a chance for reason. Morgan looked over his left shoulder at Mikey, tied and gagged; his eyes wide in fear, still a prisoner.

"What's going to happen to Mikey when we get back to Alexandria?" Morgan asked, being sure to emphasize the boy's name.

Daryl glanced over his shoulder at the restrained boy, and returned to watching the road. "Denise will check him out; Rick will talk to him."

"What happens after all of that?" Morgan asked.

"It's Rick's decision."

Morgan looked perplexed at Daryl. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Daryl shrugged.

"Wait a minute," Morgan said as his eyes widened, "are you saying Rick could...execute Mikey?"

In the backseat, Mikey whimpered fearfully.

Daryl thought back to two years ago , when Rick brought the injured punk Randall to Hershel's farm. Daryl had beaten Randall for information, and uncovered the young man was part of a heavily armed group of scavengers. But Randall inadvertently let it slip that he participated in the gang rape of two underage girls. Daryl nearly beat the little bastard to death for that, but he left his fate up to Rick.

"It depends," Daryl finally answered, "if Rick thinks the kid's a threat."

In the backseat, Mikey tried to protest through his gag as he shook his head, while in the passenger seat, Morgan tried to find the words to respond to Daryl's statement. "That's...that's crazy!"

Daryl nodded in agreement. "It's a crazy world we live in."

Morgan was quiet, and Daryl thought again of Randall, in Hershel's barn, blindfolded, his hands tied behind his back, crying like a bitch while Rick stood in front of him, Colt Python revolver in hand and taking aim at Randall's forehead. Daryl and Shane stood nearby, waiting for Rick to pull the trigger, but instead of a gunshot, the barn was filled by a small voice: Do it , Dad.

Daryl, Rick and Shane looked at the barn's doorway and saw Carl standing there, watching and waiting for Rick to pull the trigger, too.

But Rick didn't execute Randall. Instead he gave Daryl and Shane one quiet order: Take him away.

Randall was granted a reprieve, but his death would come days later; Shane freed Randall from the shed, took him out into the woods and broke his neck. It was part of Shane's plan to lure Rick away from the group and kill him, but Rick killed Shane instead.

Daryl hated Shane, but he had to admit that killing Shane changed Rick. He had gotten a brief respite at the prison when he handed leadership over to a council elected by the group and the surviving Woodburians, but now Rick was in charge of Alexandria, and he'd shown with Gareth and the surviving cannibals of Terminus that he was not taking any more chances. If Rick thought Mikey had killed survivors during his captivity with the Wolves, he would likely execute the boy just to be safe.

 

"You need to talk to Rick about Mikey," Morgan stated.

Daryl blinked and looked dumbfounded at Morgan. "Why me? You're the one rasin' all the fuss. Why don't you talk to Rick?"

Morgan smiled bashfully. "Because when you do the math, I've known Rick for a few days. But you Daryl, you've known Rick for three years. He'll listen to you. He trusts you. He knows what kind of man you are."

Daryl's eyes widened and his complexion suddenly turned pale.

Morgan narrowed his eyes. "Daryl?" he asked, puzzled by the hunter's sudden look of fright.

Daryl didn't respond. He looked at the road, tightened his grip on the Porsche's leather covered steering wheel, pressed down on the gas pedal, and he sports car flew down the road.

You know what's funny to me? Merle asked angrily. You and Sheriff Rick are like this now. Right? Merle crossed the index and forefinger on his left hand. I bet you a penny and a fiddle of gold that you never told him that we were plannin' on robbin' that camp blind.

It didn't happen! Daryl shouted.

Yeah, it didn't. 'Cause I wasn't there to help you!

"Daryl, slow the car down!" Morgan shouted as he shook the hunter's shoulder.

"Shut up!" Daryl shouted as he hit the steering wheel with his fist.

Morgan, startled by Daryl's outburst, leaned towards the passenger door, while in the backseat, Mikey leapt up in fear, and hit his head against the Porsche's ceiling. Daryl slammed on the breaks with both feet, and the Porsche skidded loudly as its four tires froze and smeared their tracks along the asphalt road.

Daryl collapsed against the steering wheel and closed his eyes as he panted heavily; beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

Morgan leaned forward cautiously and placed his hand on Daryl's shoulder again. In the backseat, Mikey groaned painfully as the effects of hitting the Porsche's ceiling with the top of his head took hold.

"Daryl, are you alright?" Morgan asked worriedly.

Daryl opened his eyes and leaned back in the driver's seat. He had not only kept Merle's plan to rob the camp a secret from the group for the past three years, but he had also kept secret his and Merle's criminal past. Lying to a cop like Rick didn't bother him, and lying to the group didn't bother him either; both had looked down their noses at him from the beginning. But Carol...she had never judged him; and when Sophia shuffled out of that barn a walker, she didn't slap him across his face, and curse him out for being a failure. She knew that he had tried to find Sophia, and almost died in the attempt, but it was too late to save her daughter.

Daryl wiped the palm of his hand down his sweating face and opened his eyes; when he caught his breath, he realized he was done. He couldn't ignore the past anymore, he couldn't bury the guilt with his love. He had to tell Carol the truth about who he was, and if she ended up hating him, if it ended their relationship before it began, he accepted it, because she deserved to know the truth.

Daryl, now composed, looked at Morgan. "You think Rick knows me?" he asked the pacifist.

Morgan nodded cautiously.

"Well, he don't know me at all. Nobody does."

Morgan sat back in the passenger seat and pondered Daryl's cryptic statement. Daryl glanced over his shoulder at Mikey, who still had that fearful look in his eyes. Daryl shook his head apologetically, and then he looked forward, put both hands on the steering wheel, stepped moderately on the gas pedal, and resumed the drive back to Alexandria.

 

Carl sat on a picnic blanket, with Judith in his lap, in the infirmary's back yard. Carl had a baby rattle in his hand, and he shook it at various heights and tones, which made Judith giggle joyfully and reach for the colorful instrument. Carl smiled broadly. He felt good; better than he had these past few days. He had eagerly stepped outside, carrying Judith and with the picnic blanket tucked under his arm, and had spent the mid-morning in the sun, alternating between playing with Judith and reading a Wolverine graphic novel.

Carl put the rattle down on the blanket, wrapped his arms around Judith, and did some reflecting. What made him so happy all of a sudden? It may have been Michonne, who asked for his help on a perimeter check, or it may have been Enid, who had always been nice to him since he arrived in Alexandria, and now, she didn't care that he lost his right eye.

Judith flailed her arms, making Carl chuckle, and he put the rattle down and gently lifted his baby sister into the air. He remembered Michonne asking if he wanted to hold Judith soon after he climbed out of his infirmary bed. At first he refused, fearful that the sight of him with half his face heavily bandaged would only scare Judith, but Michonne gently insisted and placed the baby in his arms. For a few minutes, Carl forgot about his hatred for Ron Anderson, for shooting out his right eye, and his hatred for his father for teaching that pyscho how to shoot, and thought about what a...miracle it had been, that Carol and Tyreese had saved the group and saved Judith.

Carol. Carl frowned and looked to his right. He could see the grey haired woman standing on the rampart above the main gate, a rifle slung over her shoulder, and the thin curl of a lit cigarette rising over her head.

Do you still want to know what happened at the prison? his father asked recently.

Carl curtly said that he did.

Not long after we buried the dead, Tyreese found Karen and David...they had been stabbed once in the temple and their bodies burnt to a crisp.

Carl grimaced angrily at Carol, who rubbed her temple as if her conscience was troubling her.

What are you going to do, Dad? Carl had asked.

I did something soon after Carol confessed: I exiled her, his father answered.

Judith garbled, and Carl rubbed her stomach protectively. What if Judith had gotten sick back at the prison? He would've trusted Carol to look after his baby sister without giving it a second thought.

Carol did what she thought was necessary, son, his father said.

A tear ran down Carl's one eye. He had lost his mother. He could've lost his baby sister. You should throw her out again, he remembered telling his father.

Carl remembered his father drew in a breath, and his eyes widened in shock. Carl, how can you say that?

The boy remembered wanting to scream, but somehow, he kept his temper in check. It was murder, Dad.

Son, I thought the same thing, but I was wrong.

Carl shook his head. His parents always talked about what was right and wrong, but his mother let herself be...used by Shane, while his father condoned the actions of a murderer.

Dad, Karen and David were good people! They were sick and needed our help! All Carol had to do was wait for Daryl and Michonne to come back from the veterinarian coll—

They would've been too late, Carl, his father interrupted.

Carl shook his head angrily. He still didn't believe that. He remembered glaring at his father, in the same way his father did when he had made up his mind. Carol's dangerous, just like Shane.

Carl remembered his father's shocked expression, and for a minute he thought his father was going to agree, but his father shook his head. No. I don't believe that.

Carl grabbed the rattle off the picnic blanket and pressed his thumb against it. Within a minute, the rattle snapped and fell back onto the blanket , were it rolled and came to a stop beside his foot.

Glenn was with the sick inside A Block. Hershel risked his life caring for them until Daryl and Michonne returned with the meds. Would Carol have killed Glenn, the rest of the sick, even Hershel, just on the chance of stopping the flu.

Carl believed she would have.

 

"Carl!" a familiar, beautiful voice called out.

The boy looked forward and saw Enid, coming towards him and Judith from the side of the infirmary. Carl blushed, and quickly waved before looking down at his baby sister. Within moments, Enid's thin shadow stood over Carl and Judith, and then he heard her sit down on the picnic blanket, and tuck her legs underneath her body.

"It's good to see you're outside again," Enid said cheerfully.

"Thanks," Carl muttered, his eye closed.

"Sunlight's good for you; it helps keep you healthy," Enid continued.

"Yeah, I heard something like that," Carl replied.

Enid smiled and looked at the main gate. "I'm sure your friends will be back soon."

Carl looked up at Enid, saw she was looking at the main gate, and did likewise. "Yeah," he muttered.

"You don't sound like you mean it," Enid said as she shifted her gaze towards Carl.

"I do," Carl said defensively.

Enid tilted her head, as if Carl were a puzzle she was trying to solve. "Then why do you look so worried?"

Carl glared at Enid. "I'm not worried. It's just that—"

Carl stopped, realizing he almost spoke aloud about his mistrust of Carol. He lowered his head and held Judith protectively as she thrashed about.

Enid leaned forward. "What's wrong, Carl?"

Carl raised his head and stared at Enid. "Nothing," he answered.

"I'd swear at you, but your baby sister's here," Enid smiled.

Carl chuckled and Enid joined him. Judith waved her arms and cried happly. A minute later Enid put her arms out and Carl found himself handing Judith over to the girl. Judith looked up at Enid, and reached up with her tiny hands and tugged the girl's long auburn hair. Enid laughed as she settled Judith in her lap, and Carl leaned forward and helped pry Enid's hair out of Judith's grasp.

"So aren't you going to tell me?" Enid asked.

"Tell you what?" Carl asked.

Enid huffed and amusingly rolled her eyes. "The world comes to an end, but boys stay the same; still dumb as rocks,"

"Hey," Carl whined.

"I'm sorry," Enid smiled softly, as she adjusted her hold on Judith. "I just thought that after all we've been through, you'd trust me."

"But I do,"

"Okay, so if you're afraid of something—"

"I'm not afraid," Carl said harshly.

Enid blinked and ignored Judith as she waved her arms like a wind-up monkey. Carl, embarrassed by his behavior, slumped his shoulders. "I'm sorry, E—"

"You know what? Screw you," Enid spat as she dumped Judith back in Carl's arms. "I thought we were friends, I thought you were different from Ron, but if you don't trust me, then I was wrong about you."

Enid stood up from the picnic blanket and started to turn towards the infirmary, when Carl suddenly grabbed her wrist. "Wait!" he pleaded.

Enid looked down at the boy, his one eye was open wide, and his baby sister cried as he cradled her in his left arm.

"What is it, Carl?" Enid asked.

Carl blinked.

Carl, his father told him recently, you must promise me that you'll never tell anyone that Carol killed Karen and David.

"Well?" Enid asked again impatiently.

A croak escaped from his open mouth.

Enid's eyes darkened and she scowled down at him. "You're full of shit, Carl."

"It's Carol!" he whispered urgently.

Enid relaxed her posture and looked over at Carol atop the wall's rampart. "The quiet old lady? What did she do?"

Carl tugged on Enid's arm and the girl sat down on the picnic blanket. Carl gently placed Judith down by his right side and motioned for Enid to lean forward. "You need to promise me something," he whispered.

"Yeah," Enid said with a nod.

"I'm serious," Carl said firmly, "you can't tell anyone else."

Enid nodded again.

 

Carl looked to his right and then to his left. He and Enid were alone except for Judith, who was holding the rattle's stick with both hands.

"Before we lost the prison, it was hit with the flu," Carl explained quietly, "we put the sick people in A Block, but our sickest were a woman and a man who we put in another cell block, their names were Karen and David.

"Well, not long after my dad cleared the fence line of walkers, one of our group, Tyreese, Sasha's brother, found Karen and David had been killed and their bodies burnt like firewood."

Enid gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

Carl nodded and looked left and right, the back yard was still clear of Alexandrians. It was like the town was suddenly abandoned and left only Carol to protect them and Judith.

Carol protecting Judith; Carl bit his lip in anger. He'd never let that woman hold his baby sister again.

"Well, more people came down with the flu, so Michonne and Daryl left to get medicince at a vet college, but soon after that my dad told me he and Carol were going to the local suburb for aspirin. Well, when dad came back a few hours later, he was alone. He told me Carol admitted to killing Karen and David, so he exiled her."

Enid gasped in shock. "Carol...Carol's a killer?"

"No," Carl answered as he shook his head, "Carol's a murderer."

Enid looked over at Carol, and noticed the rifle slung over her shoulder. "What should we do?"

Carl slumped his shoulders and sighed in defeat. "I...I don't know."

"But...she's a murderer," Enid whispered in a serious voice, "what if she kills someone else? What if she's crazy?"

Carl shrugged. "Maybe, we could watch her. If she's up to something, and we can prove it, we can tell my dad."

"And what will he do, throw her out again?"

"I don't know. I mean...she's hooked up with Daryl, and my dad depends on him a lot."

"Daryl? That guy scares me," Enid admitted, "he's dirty, never talks to anyone, and he walked around with that crossbow when Mrs. Monroe took away your group's guns."

"Hey, my dad depends on Daryl, and he's not a bad guy once you get to know him."

"I'll bet you a Snickers bar that you would've said the same about Carol if your dad never told you what she did," Enid pointed out.

Carl opened his mouth to protest, but reconsidered. "So what should we do?" he asked.

"We have to warn people," Enid whispered urgently.

"No!" Carl answered as he squeezed Enid's wrist, "we can't do that!"

"These people have the right to know a murderer is living with them," Enid argued.

"I don't like Carol either, but we've got to keep this between ourselves," Carl countered. "If the people in this town knew about Carol, there'd be a riot. Daryl would fight back. I think...I think my dad would too."

Enid lowered her head and sighed in defeat. "We can't do anything, can we?"

Carl slid his hand down Enid's wrist and around her hand. "No."

The two youngsters were quiet for a minute, and Enid finally raised her head and smiled reassuringly. "Well, thanks for trusting me."

Carl blushed and chuckled nervously.

Enid smiled brightly and she stood up and started walking out of the backyard. Carl watched her until she disappeared behind the infirmary, and then he glanced at Judith, who had fallen asleep. Carl smiled, pried the broken rattle out of his baby sister's hand, and resumed reading his graphic novel.

 

The afternoon sun had begun its slow descent into evening when Carol heard the approaching rumble of a powerful engine. She placed her hands on the edge of the wall, leaned forward, and saw a black Porsche 911 speeding up the road.

Carol smiled and spun around. "It's Daryl!" she shouted with her hands cupped around her mouth, "open the gate!"

An Alexandrian ran to the main gate, unlocked it, and pushed it down its track. Carol turned to the road and saw the Porsche slowing down as it approached Alexandria. She gasped at the sight of the cracked windshield and dented front of the Porsche, but when she saw Daryl behind the wheel, she smiled and raised her hand to draw his attention. Daryl looked up, saw Carol waving at him, and he took his right hand away from the steering wheel and waved it slightly. The Porsche drove through the open gate and made its way towards the infirmary while the population of Alexandria chased or ran towards it. Carol ran over to the rampart's ladder, and quickly climbed down it, and ran with the cheering crowd of Alexandrians that was chasing after the sports car.

 

Daryl stopped the Porsche in front of the infirmary and put the sports car in park; he looked out the driver's side window and saw Rick coming down the porch steps. The Alexandrians quickly surrounded the Porsche and were cheering or knocking on the sports car's windows, eager for him and Morgan to step out so they could ask them dozens of questions about the food run. Daryl looked at Morgan, who looked over his shoulder at Mikey; the boy sat hunched over in the backseat quivering in fear of his life.

"Get Denise to look him over," Daryl grumbled.

"And Rick?" Morgan asked.

Daryl looked out the driver's side window again; the crowd on his side of the sport's car turned around and applauded Rick, who made his way through the crowd like a gubernatorial candidate. "Stay in the car 'till I give the signal."

Morgan nodded and looked over his shoulder at Mikey. "It'll be okay, kid."

Mikey looked up, revealing his eyes were filled with unshed tears.

Daryl removed the Porsche's keys from the ignition; popped open the trunk, opened the driver's side door, and climbed out of the sports car. The Alexandrians erupted in applause and patted Daryl on his shoulders. The hunter grimaced, but nodded in appreciation.

"Welcome back, Daryl," Rick said as he extended his hand.

"Thanks," Daryl grumbled as he took Rick's hand and gave a firm handshake.

"Where's the food?" a man asked curtly.

"We're starving!" a woman cried.

"Daryl!" a familiar voice shouted.

Daryl looked to his left and saw Carol—with her sniper rifle slung over her shoulder—pushing her way through the crowd and throwing her arms around his neck. Daryl blushed, but he smiled and hugged Carol tightly for a few moments before settling her down on her feet.

"Are you alright?" Carol asked worriedly.

"I'm fine," Daryl said as he scratched his temple in embarrassment.

Suddenly, Carol gasped and gingerly touch the red bruise on Daryl's left cheek. "What happened?"

"Just a bruise from one of those damn Wolves, don't worry about it," Daryl explained as he told hold of Carol's hand and gently pulled it away from his cheek.

"Uh, excuse me, you two," Rick politely interrupted.

Daryl and Carol looked at the group's leader.

"Is everyone alright?" Rick asked.

"Yeah," Daryl answered with a nod, "and we brought someone back."

Rick blinked in surprise. "Who?"

Daryl looked back at the Porsche and nodded. A moment later Morgan climbed out of the passenger seat, put the seat down, and helped Mikey out of the sports car.

The Alexandrians gasped in shock.

"It's...it's Mikey! Mikey Hanks!" a woman shouted in surprise.

The Alexandrians moved towards the boy, laughing, crying, and asking questions. Mikey closed his eyes and turned towards Morgan, who put an arm around the boy's shoulders to comfort him.

"Why is he tied up and gagged?" a woman asked

"Hey, they've got Mikey tied up. That's screwed up, man!" a young man shouted.

Daryl ignored the Alexandrians and walked towards the front of the Porsche, Carol and Rick followed closed behind.

"Daryl, what happened at the warehouse?" Rick asked.

"We ran into some Wolves, Rick, but we took care of 'em," Daryl explained as he lifted up the Porsche's trunk and rummaged inside it, "me and Morgan were sweepin' the interior when we found the kid."

Daryl took a step back from the Porsche and revealed the Benelli M4 Super90 shotgun was in his hands; he threw it underhand to Rick, who caught it like it was a water ballon. "Don't worry, it's empty," he grinned.

Rick glared at Daryl, and slung the semi-automatic shotgun over his right shoulder. "Thanks," he grumbled angrily.

"Excuse me, Rick, but Denise should take a look at Mikey," Morgan said politely.

"Of course," Rick replied, "Denise, could you please—"

"Sure, Rick," the novice doctor said as he stepped forward and gently took hold of Mikey's arm. "Come on," she said smiling to the frightened boy.

Mikey resisted Denise's prodding and looked nervously at Morgan; the pacifist nodded and Mikey lowered his head and relented; Denise lead the boy up the walkway and into the infirmary, with Morgan following closely behind.

 

Daryl reached into the Porsche's trunk again and stepped back with the PSE Fang crossbow in his hands. "I found this in the warehouse too. Cool huh?" he asked Carol.

Carol looked over Daryl, smiling proudly with his new crossbow. "It's you," she answered with a smile of her own.

"Daryl, what about Michonne and Glenn? What about the food?" Rick asked.

"They're comin'," Daryl answered as he slung the PSE Fang over his shoulder, "they're about two or three miles behind us."

"Okay," Rick answered as he looked through the crowd of Alexandrians until he spotted the man he was looking for, "Aaron can you wait for them at the gate, make sure they pull up to the pantry?"

"You're got it, Rick," Aaron nodded as he turned around and ran to the gate.

"There's somethin' else," Daryl whispered as he stepped closer to Rick, "we need to talk, soon as Morgan has a minute."

"Alright," Rick said curiously as he adjusted the shotgun's weight on his shoulder, turned around and walked past the Porsche and onto the infirmary's walkway.

Daryl followed Rick, but when he walked past Carol he stopped and faced her. Carol averted his stare, fearing he had figured out the secrets she had kept from him.

Just look at the flowers, Lizzie. Just look at the flowers. Just...just look at the flowers.

BANG!

"Carol, you should hear this," Daryl said.

Carol blinked. "But...but, Daryl. What..." she stammered.

Daryl smiled and nodded towards the infirmary. Carol's hand tightened around the shoulder strap of her Colt M16A4 rifle, and walked hurriedly to catch up to Daryl. Rick stood on the porch, waiting for his two friends to join him.

"Daryl, something's bothering you. What is it?" Rick asked.

Daryl and Carol stood on the porch beside Rick, and the hunter looked at the group's leader. "Remember those bikers who tried to rob me, Abe and Sasha?"

Rick nodded.

"I don't think they were bullshittin' us. I think there really is a guy out there named Negan."

TO BE CONTINUED​

 

ShaneFan,

Thanks for reviewing chapter 8.

One thing to consider is that Alexandria is a time capsule of the way the world used to be. Daryl, as an "outsider" doesn't belong in polite society. He knows it, and the Alexandrians know it too.

I liked the group's reaction to seeing Daryl wearing new clothes for the first time since they were at Hershel's farm. The "Starbucks look" was part of a line Aaron used when he saw Daryl wearing new clothes at the dinner at Daryl and Carol's new house.

Rick strongly regrets blaming Carol for the groups problems, which led Daryl hitting him and the temporary end of their friendships. It's great that Rick manned up and apologized to the two of them, but we'll see in the future if that is able to last.

Maggie's reaction to Abraham's statement on farming was intended to be anger, as Abraham unintentionally insulted her father, and her families livelihood.

I enjoy the Carl and Michonne scenes. It's great that Carl finally has someone he can go to and talk to. The relationship also gives Michonne the chance to stop being withdrawn and act like a person again.

You're right about the Alexandrians taking their incredible luck for granted. They don't appreciate that members of Rick's group are risking their lives to find desperately needed food, and that attitude will get worse in a later chapter.

Thanks again for reading.