The Other Dixon
Immediately, everyone drops their stances as the man spots the deer, a frown prominent on his brow, his mouth turned towards the floor.
"Oh, Jesus." Dale exhales.
The man circles the deer, pointing to it with an arrow.
"Son of a bitch, that's my deer!" He drawls angrily, "Look at it... all gnawed on by this... filthy, desease-bearing, motherless poxy bastard!" He kicks the walker carcass with every insult, drawing a stomach-churning squelch.
This must be the other Dixon, going by the similar southern drawl and obvious anger issues.
Dale holds a hand up to him. "Calm down, son." He sighs, "That's not helping."
Dixon #2 spins to Dale, waving his arms out in frustration.
"What do you know about it, old man?!" He growls, "Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to 'On Gold Pond'?!" Daryl turns, roughly pulling the arrows from the deer carcass. "I've been tracking this deer for miles. Gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison."
I gotta admit, half of the shit he was spewing went straight over my head.
I have no idea what the hell venison is, but I'm guessing its deer. And what the hell is 'On Gold Pond'?
Damn Americans and their weird shit. I can't believe I'm stuck here for the forseeable future.
Sweet gesture, though, that he was thinking of the group.
He points to a section of the deer that had been untouched by the walker. "What do you think? D'you think we can cut around this chewed up part right here?"
Shane - ever the smart guy - shakes his head and leans his shotgun over his shoulders.
"I would not risk that."
Daryl sighs, reajusting the string on his shoulder.
"That's a damn shame. I got some squirrel..." He shrugs his shoulders, showing said animal. "About a dozen or so. That'll have to do."
Suddenly, the Walker head on the ground starts snapping its teeth into thin air, making everyone around me jump back in horror.
"Huh, so severing the spinal chord doesn't kill them." I noted. "Only the brain."
I hear Amy groan in disgust and take off behind be as I pull the knife from its home on my thigh and go to finish the job.
"Come on people." Daryl steps forward at the same time as me, "What the hell?" He peirces the brain straight throught the eye, halting the Walkers movements effective immediately. He takes the arrow back with a boot to the head. "It's gotta be the brain."
Daryl watches as I step back and re-sheath my knife silently.
"Don't y'all know nothin'?"
He stares at me a second longer with a furrowed brow before storming past us and towards camp.
'Ah, shit. Here we go...' I thought, catching the looks of the rest of the group towards Rick and I. 'Can already tell this is going up shits creek. And we're about to see if we have a paddle.'
We all collectively follow him, the Atlanta survivors and Shane taking the front.
"Merle!" Daryl shouts, ignorant to the events of yesterday. Not for long. "Merle, get your ugly ass out here!" Merle ain't coming out man. "I got us some squirrel! Let's stew 'em up!"
Shane - for god knows what reason - was the one to initiate contact with the brother.
"Daryl, just slow up a bit." He holds his hand out, "I need to talk to you."
The redneck turns, aggitation cleas on his stupidly handsome face.
Huh, that thought came from nowhere.
"About what?" He probed, clearly not in the mood for any shit.
"About Merle." Shane nods, and Daryl's face falls. It was hardly noticable, but I saw. "There was a... There was a problem in Atlanta."
Daryl shuffles his feet slightly. "He dead?"
"We're not sure."
The redneck scoffs, barking out, "He either is or he ain't!"
Rick takes initiative, stepping forward slightly. "No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it."
I could tell that this was bad. It was just getting worse by the second.
"Who're you?"
"Rick Grimes," he introduced himself, then turned to me, "this is my friend, Megan Townsend."
'Damn, last names. Kinda supprised he remembered it.' I thought, watching as Daryl's face shifted in anger. 'I guess he must be used to remembering information, being a Sherrif and all.'
"Rick Grimes? Megan Townsend?" Daryl mimicked, dawning Ricks accent for effect. Then again, that may just be me being unable to hear the difference of the two accents. "You got something you wanna tell me?" He steps forward, glaring menacingly.
Rick stood eeirly still as he started his reply.
"Your brother was a danger to us all, so we-" he turned his head to me, breaking eye contact with the brother, "-handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a peice of metal."
Out of the corner of my eye I saw T-dog approach camp with firewood.
"He's still there." I finish for Rick.
"Hold on." Daryl turns away, rubbing hid face with his arm as if to wipe the sweat from his brow. Then he turns back, anger rising, along with his voice. "Lemme process this. You're saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof, and you left him there?!"
Rick nods his head as I speak.
"Yeah, we did."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Daryl's face was contorted in pain as he paced back and forth, his steel grey eyes boring into my blue.
Then, a dozen squirrels came hurtling back and forth at Rick and I. We ducked in time to see him charge towards us, only to be tackled by Shane.
'No paddle! I repeat, we have NO PADDLE!'
I stood there, shoulders tense, fingers flexing over the knife on my thigh.
"Hey, watch the knife!" a worried voice echoed through the camp as the redneck sprung up, the distinct sound of metal being scraped against metal was heard as he swung at me.
I unsheath my own knife, ready for a fight that didn't come.
Rick and Shane had burst into action, twisting the knife from his grip as Shane locks his arms around Daryl's neck, bringing him to the ground carefully as the redneck protests.
"You best let me go!" He growls, hands trying and failing to pry Shane's forearms away.
"Nah, I think it's better if I don't." Shane quips back, holding the man in place.
The quick little remark from Shane made me huff - not a laugh, it just sounded like one - which the three men looked at me for.
It was amusing, but I wouldn't admit that.
Shane had a grin on his face, obviously thinking that I thought he was funny - which I don't, I would've actually laughed if Rick had said it - and the redneck had a look of pure loathing strewn across his annoyingly handsome features.
"Chokehold's illegal." Daryl huffs out, barely able to push the words past his lips.
"You can file a complaint." Shane mocks, looking to Rick and I again, who weren't amused. "Come on, man. We'll keep this up all day."
Daryl began letting out breathy whimpers as Rick squatted in front of him, me stood by his side. I honestly felt bad for the dude. He lashed out because us arseholes left his brother - maybe his only family member - on the roof of a building infested with the undead. I'd probably act the same.
"We'd like to have a calm discussion on the topic. Do you think we can manage that?" Rick asks, tilting his head to the right.
When the redneck didn't answer, only sounding wheezed intakes of air, I reitterated Ricks question, loud and clear.
"Do you think we can handle that?" I glare at him as he does me, until at last he lets out a meek 'Mhm', barely noticable, but Shane lets him go anyway.
A/N
Hey, I know this is all diologue. I'm just trying to get through this scene, cause it's a fuckton of info dump. Plus, Daryl in a headlock is just... so HOT. S1 Daryl had hy heart from the get go.
Anyway, I'm trying to add more description rather than diologue, and I promise I'll get the hang of it. AND I'm so sorry it took so long to introduce Daryl. I just wanted to flesh out the character and her connections to people in the group.
But yeaaaaaaah, thats that :)
I don't have emoji's on a laptop. Very sad.
Using my phone rn, EMOJIS 😃😋🥳
I tried proofreading, but it's 3 minutes to 5am and I'm still writing. So, I'm sorry if there's mistakes. Point em out for me 😋
-IWriteStoriesNotSins