Scraping By, Chapter 5: Discourse
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 5: Discourse
Lori woke up to the sound of someone calling her name. Rick had let her sleep in, and she could make out Carl's laughter in the distance.
"Yeah?" she practically croaked.
The tent flap lifted and the newest member of their raggedy group of survivors poked her head in. She was holding an armfuAlabamal of clothes. "Morning, Lori. Thanks for lettin' me borrow these last night."
Lori took her clothes back and swiped a hand across her eyes to get rid of the crust of sleep. "No problem, Whitney. I thought about giving you your own, but I didn't think you wanted some strangers rifling through your bags."
"I 'preciate the forethought," Whitney smiled and started to leave. She paused halfway out of the flap. "By the way, Dale used the last of the potatoes to fix up some hash-browns for breakfast."
Lori nodded and started to get up to face another day.
Behind Daryl's truck, Glenn took inventory of the things they picked up yesterday. They managed to find a few cans of corned beef and some canned fruit along with the wealth of Progresso soup from the Piggly Wiggly.
He was writing his list of what they had and listening to Rick, Shane, and Dale discuss how much longer they thought they could stay in their current camping ground. Daryl sat by the fire pit with his fletching kit and several unfinished arrows piled beside him. Every once in a while he would respond to something Rick or Dale asked of him, but almost all of his attention was maintained on setting nocks and fletches.
Glenn still didn't think the area was safe. Five miles out from town was still five miles closer than he wanted to be to potential walkers. A couple hundred miles sounded safer to him.
"I still think we're fine. We only saw the three walkers all day yesterday, and they were slower than most," said Shane.
Dale shot a glance at the kids as they ran through the grass with Zeke. "Well, we haven't seen any come out here for a week… And we found Whitney yesterday. There are still people around, at least."
"No, come on," Rick shook his head. "We took care of those four that were locked up in the employee lounge, remember? And they weren't fallin' apart yet, Shane. One of 'em looked like it just turned. Any number above zero is too many walkers for my peace of mind. We need to head West and get into Texas farm land."
"Rick, we don't have the gas. And we'd never make it out there," Shane argued.
Daryl, fed up with the bickering, started speaking. "Y'all should listen to 'im. All we need is one," he looked in their direction and held up a finished arrow. "We're too close to a big town and we don't have a way to grow anythin' on our own. Can't survive off 'a canned peaches and-shit-we'll need fresh food and well water."
Dale looked thoughtful as Daryl turned back to his work. "Well, he does have a point. We can't keep looting for food like this."
"Dale," Shane sighed and propped his hands on his hips. He was so frustrated with being on the move. In his peripheral vision, he saw Whitney walking towards them with a hash-brown hanging out of the side of her mouth-both hands occupied in clipping her shoulder rig in place. It kept sliding off one shoulder and Rick, who was facing her approach, snorted when she waved her arm in an attempt to keep the nylon from falling off.
She looked up when she heard him and narrowed her eyes as Shane joined in on laughing at her expense. Whitney took a huge bite out of the hash-brown and, around the mouthful of potato, said, "You best shut up 'fore I break both'a my feet off in yer asses, you two. Don't think I won't do it, either."
Daryl rolled his eyes, stood, and quickly situated the holster on her. He even threaded the straps through her belt to keep it in place. After he made a few more adjustments, he plopped back down in his original spot and resumed fletching another arrow. "Problem solved. Shut the fuck up."
Whitney hummed in appreciation and started the discussion back on point. "In my experience they've tracked me through the streets before. And that was just me on my lonesome. All y'all are grouped in one place and they will find y'all. Trust me."
Glenn, finished with his inventory, walked over to join them. "Whitney's got a point too, Shane," he said. "And we're getting closer to Alabama already."
"If we need gas and the pumps are locked, I know how to pick 'em," said Whitney.
Rick frowned slightly and Whitney scoffed at him. "It ain't like I picked locks willy-nilly before all this shit happened. I taught myself how," she said.
Shane still shook his head adamantly. "No. Where will we find another water source like this one? Another gated area?"
"There are plenty of gated ranches between here and Texarkana. And we can always find water if we dig deep enough," said Dale.
Rick stood quietly beside his friend and rested his hands on his hips in thought. Everyone (except Daryl) stared at him and waited for the next point to be made. Instead, Rick rubbed his jaw and said, "I'm gonna have to talk with Lori for a second."
He stalked off and Shane moved away in the opposite direction. Whitney sat down next to Daryl and sighed. "Does Shane do this often?" she asked.
Glenn snorted. "Sometimes it's a lot worse."
"Well, if y'all do end up staying, I'm out of here," Whitney said.
Dale glanced at her. "Young lady, I don't think that's the best idea."
"Didn't ask for an opinion there, Dale. Just statin' a fact."
Dale opened his mouth to continue giving her his two cents, but cut himself short when he saw Rick approaching them again. The younger man was smiling slightly.
"The girls agree with you, don't they?" Whitney guessed.
"We're leavin' tomorrow. Watch tonight is me, Andrea, and Glenn. We should start packin' up now if we wanna make the road last."
Dale eyed Daryl's truck and Merle's motorcycle. The latter took up quite a bit of room on the truck bed and they needed all of the storage space they could take on the road. He mentioned it earlier in the morning, but Daryl wouldn't' hear of it. While he understood the blind faith in family, Dale didn't think the younger man was thinking the situation through enough.
It was a conclusion pretty much agreed upon by everyone. Merle was dead. It was a tragedy and an accident, but he was gone.
Dale watched Whitney gather clothes that needed washing and thought back to the talk between her and Daryl that he overheard last night. He was impressed with her ability to say things most people wouldn't want to hear and wondered if she'd be able to convince Daryl to start mourning properly.
Chapter 4: Past Is Prologue | Chapter 6: Pack It In
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 5: Discourse
Lori woke up to the sound of someone calling her name. Rick had let her sleep in, and she could make out Carl's laughter in the distance.
"Yeah?" she practically croaked.
The tent flap lifted and the newest member of their raggedy group of survivors poked her head in. She was holding an armfuAlabamal of clothes. "Morning, Lori. Thanks for lettin' me borrow these last night."
Lori took her clothes back and swiped a hand across her eyes to get rid of the crust of sleep. "No problem, Whitney. I thought about giving you your own, but I didn't think you wanted some strangers rifling through your bags."
"I 'preciate the forethought," Whitney smiled and started to leave. She paused halfway out of the flap. "By the way, Dale used the last of the potatoes to fix up some hash-browns for breakfast."
Lori nodded and started to get up to face another day.
Behind Daryl's truck, Glenn took inventory of the things they picked up yesterday. They managed to find a few cans of corned beef and some canned fruit along with the wealth of Progresso soup from the Piggly Wiggly.
He was writing his list of what they had and listening to Rick, Shane, and Dale discuss how much longer they thought they could stay in their current camping ground. Daryl sat by the fire pit with his fletching kit and several unfinished arrows piled beside him. Every once in a while he would respond to something Rick or Dale asked of him, but almost all of his attention was maintained on setting nocks and fletches.
Glenn still didn't think the area was safe. Five miles out from town was still five miles closer than he wanted to be to potential walkers. A couple hundred miles sounded safer to him.
"I still think we're fine. We only saw the three walkers all day yesterday, and they were slower than most," said Shane.
Dale shot a glance at the kids as they ran through the grass with Zeke. "Well, we haven't seen any come out here for a week… And we found Whitney yesterday. There are still people around, at least."
"No, come on," Rick shook his head. "We took care of those four that were locked up in the employee lounge, remember? And they weren't fallin' apart yet, Shane. One of 'em looked like it just turned. Any number above zero is too many walkers for my peace of mind. We need to head West and get into Texas farm land."
"Rick, we don't have the gas. And we'd never make it out there," Shane argued.
Daryl, fed up with the bickering, started speaking. "Y'all should listen to 'im. All we need is one," he looked in their direction and held up a finished arrow. "We're too close to a big town and we don't have a way to grow anythin' on our own. Can't survive off 'a canned peaches and-shit-we'll need fresh food and well water."
Dale looked thoughtful as Daryl turned back to his work. "Well, he does have a point. We can't keep looting for food like this."
"Dale," Shane sighed and propped his hands on his hips. He was so frustrated with being on the move. In his peripheral vision, he saw Whitney walking towards them with a hash-brown hanging out of the side of her mouth-both hands occupied in clipping her shoulder rig in place. It kept sliding off one shoulder and Rick, who was facing her approach, snorted when she waved her arm in an attempt to keep the nylon from falling off.
She looked up when she heard him and narrowed her eyes as Shane joined in on laughing at her expense. Whitney took a huge bite out of the hash-brown and, around the mouthful of potato, said, "You best shut up 'fore I break both'a my feet off in yer asses, you two. Don't think I won't do it, either."
Daryl rolled his eyes, stood, and quickly situated the holster on her. He even threaded the straps through her belt to keep it in place. After he made a few more adjustments, he plopped back down in his original spot and resumed fletching another arrow. "Problem solved. Shut the fuck up."
Whitney hummed in appreciation and started the discussion back on point. "In my experience they've tracked me through the streets before. And that was just me on my lonesome. All y'all are grouped in one place and they will find y'all. Trust me."
Glenn, finished with his inventory, walked over to join them. "Whitney's got a point too, Shane," he said. "And we're getting closer to Alabama already."
"If we need gas and the pumps are locked, I know how to pick 'em," said Whitney.
Rick frowned slightly and Whitney scoffed at him. "It ain't like I picked locks willy-nilly before all this shit happened. I taught myself how," she said.
Shane still shook his head adamantly. "No. Where will we find another water source like this one? Another gated area?"
"There are plenty of gated ranches between here and Texarkana. And we can always find water if we dig deep enough," said Dale.
Rick stood quietly beside his friend and rested his hands on his hips in thought. Everyone (except Daryl) stared at him and waited for the next point to be made. Instead, Rick rubbed his jaw and said, "I'm gonna have to talk with Lori for a second."
He stalked off and Shane moved away in the opposite direction. Whitney sat down next to Daryl and sighed. "Does Shane do this often?" she asked.
Glenn snorted. "Sometimes it's a lot worse."
"Well, if y'all do end up staying, I'm out of here," Whitney said.
Dale glanced at her. "Young lady, I don't think that's the best idea."
"Didn't ask for an opinion there, Dale. Just statin' a fact."
Dale opened his mouth to continue giving her his two cents, but cut himself short when he saw Rick approaching them again. The younger man was smiling slightly.
"The girls agree with you, don't they?" Whitney guessed.
"We're leavin' tomorrow. Watch tonight is me, Andrea, and Glenn. We should start packin' up now if we wanna make the road last."
Dale eyed Daryl's truck and Merle's motorcycle. The latter took up quite a bit of room on the truck bed and they needed all of the storage space they could take on the road. He mentioned it earlier in the morning, but Daryl wouldn't' hear of it. While he understood the blind faith in family, Dale didn't think the younger man was thinking the situation through enough.
It was a conclusion pretty much agreed upon by everyone. Merle was dead. It was a tragedy and an accident, but he was gone.
Dale watched Whitney gather clothes that needed washing and thought back to the talk between her and Daryl that he overheard last night. He was impressed with her ability to say things most people wouldn't want to hear and wondered if she'd be able to convince Daryl to start mourning properly.
Chapter 4: Past Is Prologue | Chapter 6: Pack It In