Scraping By, Chapter 2: Legroom
Title: Scraping By
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Rating: M
Disclaimer: All rights for The Walking Dead go to Robert Kirkman and AMC. This story takes place strictly in the TV show 'verse.
Chapter 2: Legroom
She woke with the sensation of someone running a damp cloth over her face and met the most brilliant pair of sad blue eyes she'd ever seen. The woman cleaning Whitney's face smiled slightly and looked over her head at someone behind her.
"She's awake, Daryl."
She realized that the warm thing against her back was the guy from the pharmacy and had a brief moment of panic that was quelled when Zeke propped his heavy head on her thigh and whined. The three people (and dog) were crammed in the cabin of a big Dodge pickup parked in the shade of several huge oak trees. Embarrassed that she passed out, Whitney covered her face with her hands and slowly leaned forward.
"You're in Daryl's truck," the blonde woman explained. She carefully laid a hand on Whitney's bony shoulder and offered her a cup. "My name's Andrea. Rick said you were starving, and Glenn found some powdered shake stuff in the store. We mixed it with a can of evaporated milk we had on hand because, honestly, you need to start with something less heavy before we get you some more substantial food."
Whitney sat up again with Daryl's assistance and almost started crying when she took the cup from Andrea. The last people she ran across weren't nearly as welcoming as these strangers. She still had the bruises from that particular encounter. As Whitney drank the protein shake, Andrea rubbed her arm and smiled softly at her. Daryl kept arm behind her to prop her up and reached into the glovebox for a much-used Ziploc bag full of deer jerky. He pulled out a few strips and handed them to Zeke.
The dog didn't bother with chewing. He swallowed everything whole and licked Daryl's fingers clean.
Halfway through her cup of warm, sawdust-flavored shake, Whitney cleared her throat. "Thank you, Andrea. Thank you, Daryl. None of y'all had to do this."
Daryl shifted in his seat uncomfortably and Andrea nodded as she reached for the car door. "Whitney, Daryl's gonna drive you back to the camp we've got set up about five miles away from here. I'll be in the Jeep with the other three, okay?"
With that, she exited the cab, quietly closed the door, and sprinted fifteen feet to the Jeep in front of the truck.
Whitney eased into the passenger seat and carefully sipped at her cup while she watched Daryl start the engine. "Y'all have a fuckin' camp set up?" she asked.
He grunted and shifted the truck into gear. "Yeah, I don't think it's a good idea, neither, but don't no one wanna listen to me."
She finished drinking the protein shake and held the cup out for Zeke to lick clean. Daryl watched her do this out of the corner of his eye as he followed Shane down the road. The man was driving with a lead foot and Daryl didn't see the sense in making so much noise. He hung back a little and handed Whitney the jerky bag.
"Try chewing on a piece of that for a ways 'fore we make it back and the gals start shovelin' cold beans in ya."
Whitney smirked. "Thank you, Daryl."
"Don't gotta say it all the damn time, Whitney," he grumbled.
"That's kinda the point of sayin' 'thank you,'" she clarified and nibbled on a strip of jerky. She was sorely tempted to follow Zeke's example and swallow it whole, but knew the consequences of eating too fast when the body was starved. She settled on making conversation to distract herself. "So, what did you do before all this shit happened?" she asked.
Daryl looked downright surprised. "Ain't no one ever asked me that before…"
Whitney turned to face him in her seat. "Bullshit!"
He just shrugged.
"Well?" she prompted.
"You're gonna laugh at me."
"I will not. Hey-before all this shit, I lived in Macon and was a nurse in the ER. When it all happened, I was usin' my vacation time 'cause I hadn't been off work for a year and a half."
"How'd you get the walkers locked in that room?" Daryl asked.
"Zeke's been followin' me around for a while now and, well, I think he's an aide dog. He's shut a couple doors for me before, so I had him wait outside the door, got them to chase me in the room, ran, hit the lock on my way, and had Zeke pounce on the door as I ran past," Whitney finished her story and rubbed Zeke's snout.
He looked impressed. "Well, damn, woman."
"Come on, 'fess up."
Daryl groaned and scraped a hand across his face. "Fuck it. I was a staff chef at the Dublin Country Club."
Whitney stared at his face and then looked at his hands. He didn't have the telltale pan burns that a lot of chefs had. Then again, he could have been really good at his job. "No shit? What'd you do?"
He cleared his throat. "They called me a 'charcuterie,' but that's just a fancy French way 'a sayin' I was the butcher. The guy in charge was tryin' to get me in the, uh, 'rotissieur' position, 'cause the asshole who already had that job always overcooked every fuckin' thing he roasted. My cousin was the saucier, right? An' she would not shut the fuck up about the barbecues I'd have on Sundays… I ended up roasting a fuckin' hog for the staff Christmas party. The head chef was finally gettin' more serious about movin' me up in the kitchens when this whole infection shit started happenin.'"
Daryl paused, somewhat surprised that he said as much as he did. He didn't get the chance to talk with anyone that much considering how often he was out hunting or being generally unapproachable. From the corner of his eye he could see the genuine look of curiosity on the woman's face when he spoke. The last time anyone looked at him like that, the world was still in proper working order.
"Shit, Whitney, I ain't ever told anyone about that. Not even…" Daryl rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and sighed. "Not even my brother."
Whitney took his tone to mean that subject was off limits and steered her line of questions around it. "So did you have school training or were you just really fuckin' good at cooking?"
Daryl smiled wide for the first time in a very long time. "I am just 'really fuckin' good,' darlin.' And I do not trust the others with butcherin' or roasting anything I manage to kill when I go huntin.' It's just that… Well, no one ever asked what I used to do."
"What do they think you did?"
"Fuck if I know. You'd have to ask 'em," he shifted in his seat and returned all of his attention back on the road. "How'd you end up an ER nurse?"
Whitney shrugged and bit off another small piece of jerky. "The usual. School, training, learning to live on no sleep, keepin' my hands busy so my brain wouldn't have time to over think shit like it would if I wasn't doin' anything. Boring shit. I am far more interested in knowing how you made this jerky."
"Tell you later. We're coming up on the turn, now."
Whitney watched as Glenn hopped out of the Jeep and ran across the street to a dirt road that was gated off. He unlatched it and swung it wide, quickly pulling his shotgun into a defensive position. Daryl followed Shane and dropped his hand out of the truck window to slap the door when he drove past Glenn.
The kid closed the gate again and jogged around to the passenger side of the truck. Whitney scooted over closer to Daryl and grabbed Zeke's collar to keep him steady. Glenn hopped in the cab and closed the door as quietly as possible. Without a word, Daryl drove on.
Zeke sniffed Glenn's pant leg and licked his hand. The kid jumped.
"He's just apologizing for scarin' you earlier," Whitney explained. She had her jerky hanging out of the corner of her mouth and her stomach was finally starting to growl for the first time in several days. "Thanks for the protein shake, by the way."
Glenn smiled. Daryl, on the other hand, grumbled under his breath and grabbed a strip of jerky for himself.
"Damn it, woman, you got me talkin' about all this food an' now I'm gettin' hungry…"
"You're the one who mentioned roasting an entire hog," she chastised. "Fuck, that sounds good."
Glenn opened his mouth to ask when and where, exactly, Daryl roasted a hog, but the older man shot him a look that clearly meant he should keep his mouth shut. He decided to focus on making friends with the Doberman mutt and tuned their conversation out. They'd be at camp in a few minutes, anyway.
Dale and T-Dog were waiting for them. The old man looked a little happier seeing their new addition. Daryl didn't waste any time getting the back of his truck unloaded. They'd found some canned food and beer in an abandoned Piggly Wiggly and planned on eating something substantial for the night. Whitney's things were piled safely behind a crate of bottled water.
She hopped out of the cab after Glen and waited for Zeke to heel beside her before she started walking towards Andrea. She immediately smiled at the blonde woman and allowed her to lead her into camp.
"Guys, this is Whitney. Daryl found her in the Walgreens."
Whitney was grateful for Andrea's supporting arm as the smiling faces were a little overwhelming. Especially from the two kids. The brunette woman holding on to the little boy's shoulders walked forward and extended her hand.
"Hi, I'm Lori, Rick's wife."
Whitney shook her hand, feeling more confident with the old gesture.
"This is my son, Carl."
"Hi, Carl."
"Is he your dog?" the boy asked.
Whitney looked down at Zeke and smiled when he plopped his butt down in the grass and wagged his tail. "Technically, kiddo, I'm his human. Zeke here has been followin' me since I was walkin' around Macon."
"Can I pet him?"
This brought forth another woman, Carol, and her daughter, Sophia. Whitney informed them on how Zeke was totally harmless around people unless they were being mean to her and the mothers let their kids play with the dog. Whitney was pulled around the camp by Andrea and they eventually paused by the lake (it was too big to be a pond to call it anything else) where Whitney caught a glimpse of her reflection and saw just how bad she looked.
"Sweet baby Jesus, I am filthy!" she said. Andrea just handed her some of Lori's clothes and an old towel and said she would stand guard while Whitney cleaned up some.
She didn't need to be told twice.
Chapter 1: At The Walgreens | Chapter 3: Fireside Chat
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Rating: M
Disclaimer: All rights for The Walking Dead go to Robert Kirkman and AMC. This story takes place strictly in the TV show 'verse.
Chapter 2: Legroom
She woke with the sensation of someone running a damp cloth over her face and met the most brilliant pair of sad blue eyes she'd ever seen. The woman cleaning Whitney's face smiled slightly and looked over her head at someone behind her.
"She's awake, Daryl."
She realized that the warm thing against her back was the guy from the pharmacy and had a brief moment of panic that was quelled when Zeke propped his heavy head on her thigh and whined. The three people (and dog) were crammed in the cabin of a big Dodge pickup parked in the shade of several huge oak trees. Embarrassed that she passed out, Whitney covered her face with her hands and slowly leaned forward.
"You're in Daryl's truck," the blonde woman explained. She carefully laid a hand on Whitney's bony shoulder and offered her a cup. "My name's Andrea. Rick said you were starving, and Glenn found some powdered shake stuff in the store. We mixed it with a can of evaporated milk we had on hand because, honestly, you need to start with something less heavy before we get you some more substantial food."
Whitney sat up again with Daryl's assistance and almost started crying when she took the cup from Andrea. The last people she ran across weren't nearly as welcoming as these strangers. She still had the bruises from that particular encounter. As Whitney drank the protein shake, Andrea rubbed her arm and smiled softly at her. Daryl kept arm behind her to prop her up and reached into the glovebox for a much-used Ziploc bag full of deer jerky. He pulled out a few strips and handed them to Zeke.
The dog didn't bother with chewing. He swallowed everything whole and licked Daryl's fingers clean.
Halfway through her cup of warm, sawdust-flavored shake, Whitney cleared her throat. "Thank you, Andrea. Thank you, Daryl. None of y'all had to do this."
Daryl shifted in his seat uncomfortably and Andrea nodded as she reached for the car door. "Whitney, Daryl's gonna drive you back to the camp we've got set up about five miles away from here. I'll be in the Jeep with the other three, okay?"
With that, she exited the cab, quietly closed the door, and sprinted fifteen feet to the Jeep in front of the truck.
Whitney eased into the passenger seat and carefully sipped at her cup while she watched Daryl start the engine. "Y'all have a fuckin' camp set up?" she asked.
He grunted and shifted the truck into gear. "Yeah, I don't think it's a good idea, neither, but don't no one wanna listen to me."
She finished drinking the protein shake and held the cup out for Zeke to lick clean. Daryl watched her do this out of the corner of his eye as he followed Shane down the road. The man was driving with a lead foot and Daryl didn't see the sense in making so much noise. He hung back a little and handed Whitney the jerky bag.
"Try chewing on a piece of that for a ways 'fore we make it back and the gals start shovelin' cold beans in ya."
Whitney smirked. "Thank you, Daryl."
"Don't gotta say it all the damn time, Whitney," he grumbled.
"That's kinda the point of sayin' 'thank you,'" she clarified and nibbled on a strip of jerky. She was sorely tempted to follow Zeke's example and swallow it whole, but knew the consequences of eating too fast when the body was starved. She settled on making conversation to distract herself. "So, what did you do before all this shit happened?" she asked.
Daryl looked downright surprised. "Ain't no one ever asked me that before…"
Whitney turned to face him in her seat. "Bullshit!"
He just shrugged.
"Well?" she prompted.
"You're gonna laugh at me."
"I will not. Hey-before all this shit, I lived in Macon and was a nurse in the ER. When it all happened, I was usin' my vacation time 'cause I hadn't been off work for a year and a half."
"How'd you get the walkers locked in that room?" Daryl asked.
"Zeke's been followin' me around for a while now and, well, I think he's an aide dog. He's shut a couple doors for me before, so I had him wait outside the door, got them to chase me in the room, ran, hit the lock on my way, and had Zeke pounce on the door as I ran past," Whitney finished her story and rubbed Zeke's snout.
He looked impressed. "Well, damn, woman."
"Come on, 'fess up."
Daryl groaned and scraped a hand across his face. "Fuck it. I was a staff chef at the Dublin Country Club."
Whitney stared at his face and then looked at his hands. He didn't have the telltale pan burns that a lot of chefs had. Then again, he could have been really good at his job. "No shit? What'd you do?"
He cleared his throat. "They called me a 'charcuterie,' but that's just a fancy French way 'a sayin' I was the butcher. The guy in charge was tryin' to get me in the, uh, 'rotissieur' position, 'cause the asshole who already had that job always overcooked every fuckin' thing he roasted. My cousin was the saucier, right? An' she would not shut the fuck up about the barbecues I'd have on Sundays… I ended up roasting a fuckin' hog for the staff Christmas party. The head chef was finally gettin' more serious about movin' me up in the kitchens when this whole infection shit started happenin.'"
Daryl paused, somewhat surprised that he said as much as he did. He didn't get the chance to talk with anyone that much considering how often he was out hunting or being generally unapproachable. From the corner of his eye he could see the genuine look of curiosity on the woman's face when he spoke. The last time anyone looked at him like that, the world was still in proper working order.
"Shit, Whitney, I ain't ever told anyone about that. Not even…" Daryl rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and sighed. "Not even my brother."
Whitney took his tone to mean that subject was off limits and steered her line of questions around it. "So did you have school training or were you just really fuckin' good at cooking?"
Daryl smiled wide for the first time in a very long time. "I am just 'really fuckin' good,' darlin.' And I do not trust the others with butcherin' or roasting anything I manage to kill when I go huntin.' It's just that… Well, no one ever asked what I used to do."
"What do they think you did?"
"Fuck if I know. You'd have to ask 'em," he shifted in his seat and returned all of his attention back on the road. "How'd you end up an ER nurse?"
Whitney shrugged and bit off another small piece of jerky. "The usual. School, training, learning to live on no sleep, keepin' my hands busy so my brain wouldn't have time to over think shit like it would if I wasn't doin' anything. Boring shit. I am far more interested in knowing how you made this jerky."
"Tell you later. We're coming up on the turn, now."
Whitney watched as Glenn hopped out of the Jeep and ran across the street to a dirt road that was gated off. He unlatched it and swung it wide, quickly pulling his shotgun into a defensive position. Daryl followed Shane and dropped his hand out of the truck window to slap the door when he drove past Glenn.
The kid closed the gate again and jogged around to the passenger side of the truck. Whitney scooted over closer to Daryl and grabbed Zeke's collar to keep him steady. Glenn hopped in the cab and closed the door as quietly as possible. Without a word, Daryl drove on.
Zeke sniffed Glenn's pant leg and licked his hand. The kid jumped.
"He's just apologizing for scarin' you earlier," Whitney explained. She had her jerky hanging out of the corner of her mouth and her stomach was finally starting to growl for the first time in several days. "Thanks for the protein shake, by the way."
Glenn smiled. Daryl, on the other hand, grumbled under his breath and grabbed a strip of jerky for himself.
"Damn it, woman, you got me talkin' about all this food an' now I'm gettin' hungry…"
"You're the one who mentioned roasting an entire hog," she chastised. "Fuck, that sounds good."
Glenn opened his mouth to ask when and where, exactly, Daryl roasted a hog, but the older man shot him a look that clearly meant he should keep his mouth shut. He decided to focus on making friends with the Doberman mutt and tuned their conversation out. They'd be at camp in a few minutes, anyway.
Dale and T-Dog were waiting for them. The old man looked a little happier seeing their new addition. Daryl didn't waste any time getting the back of his truck unloaded. They'd found some canned food and beer in an abandoned Piggly Wiggly and planned on eating something substantial for the night. Whitney's things were piled safely behind a crate of bottled water.
She hopped out of the cab after Glen and waited for Zeke to heel beside her before she started walking towards Andrea. She immediately smiled at the blonde woman and allowed her to lead her into camp.
"Guys, this is Whitney. Daryl found her in the Walgreens."
Whitney was grateful for Andrea's supporting arm as the smiling faces were a little overwhelming. Especially from the two kids. The brunette woman holding on to the little boy's shoulders walked forward and extended her hand.
"Hi, I'm Lori, Rick's wife."
Whitney shook her hand, feeling more confident with the old gesture.
"This is my son, Carl."
"Hi, Carl."
"Is he your dog?" the boy asked.
Whitney looked down at Zeke and smiled when he plopped his butt down in the grass and wagged his tail. "Technically, kiddo, I'm his human. Zeke here has been followin' me since I was walkin' around Macon."
"Can I pet him?"
This brought forth another woman, Carol, and her daughter, Sophia. Whitney informed them on how Zeke was totally harmless around people unless they were being mean to her and the mothers let their kids play with the dog. Whitney was pulled around the camp by Andrea and they eventually paused by the lake (it was too big to be a pond to call it anything else) where Whitney caught a glimpse of her reflection and saw just how bad she looked.
"Sweet baby Jesus, I am filthy!" she said. Andrea just handed her some of Lori's clothes and an old towel and said she would stand guard while Whitney cleaned up some.
She didn't need to be told twice.
Chapter 1: At The Walgreens | Chapter 3: Fireside Chat