Act 2: Chapter 19:
—Farmhouse
We sat shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen, the air heavy with the smell of bread and eggs, the faintest hint of smoke drifting in from the woodstove. There weren't enough chairs for all of us, so Daryl and Glenn made do with crates, wedging themselves between gaps, their knees bent awkwardly.
Our hands were clasped, heads bowed—Hershel's insistence. Grace was a tradition here, even when faith had lost its hold on some, the sick ones.
Beth sat on my right, her head dipped low, blonde hair curtaining her face, next to her was Shane.
Maggie was on my left, her thigh warm against mine. Beyond her was Shawn, and Hershel himself at the head of the table, posture straight as if holding the whole family together by sheer will.
A complete 180 from a month ago, when Patricia and Otis had died.
Across from Shawn sat Carol, Sophia tucked in her lap. Andrea had switched her seat with Amy earlier, after realizing she was sitting right in front of me. Only for Maggie to sit in front of her, neither of them looked up from the table, too embarrassed to face each other; it was the same in the kitchen.
Amy was across from me, her eyes half-shut as she mouthed the words of Hershel's prayer.
Lori sat in front of Shane with Rick in the middle.
While Dale had elected himself to remain outside on watch, sitting alone in his RV like always.
Alicia was absent as well, tucked away in the living room. She'd already had breakfast back at the dairy, and with no space left in her stomach or table, she'd chosen to stay apart, though her eyes seemed to dislike that fact.
When Hershel's low voice finished grace, there was a brief silence as everyone lifted their head and looked around, some with genuine reverence, others with eyes already on their plates. It had been too long since they had eaten something on a plate or something that looked like food.
Then the forks began to scrape the plates, and bread was passed, and then the murmurs of quiet and short conversation filled the room.
Shane leaned forward, his fork stabbing down with a little too much force before he glanced at Rick, then Lori. His voice cut across murmurs.
"How is he?"
Rick swallowed, eyes flickering briefly to Lori before settling back on Shane. He gave a curt nod.
"He'll pull through," Lori said.
Then, as often happened, attention shifted. This time toward Hershel and me. A mixture of gratitude and polite murmur circled. Which both of us quickly dismissed.
"I could only do it because the lord wanted me to, and I had to, I did cause the accident even if through my son," Hershel muttered.
Shane looked down at his plate, slightly uneasy, remembering the gunshot vividly in his ears.
"And daughter," Maggie interjected.
Hershel gave Maggie a look, then nodded. "And daughter."
The matter closed there. No more fingers pointed at anyone.
—Twenty minutes later
The meal was finished. Andrea and Maggie carried plates toward the sink, avoiding each other like the opposite ends of a magnet. Amy followed.
Hershel lingered at the head, gaze shifting past us toward the wall where weapons leaned against, a dark reminder of the world outside. His jaw tightened.
"I'd prefer you not carry any guns on my property." His eyes landed on Rick, but the words were on all of them. "We've managed so far without turning this place into an armed camp."
"All due respect," Shane spoke first, leaning forward, restless. "You got a crowd of these things wandering out there. No offense, but it's a miracle they ain't overrun this place already."
I agree, it is a miracle,
Rick's hand came up, calm but firm. "We're guests here." He said to Shane before turning to Hershel, "This is your land, and we will respect that."
Shane stared at him, incredulous. Andrea paused in her steps, expression hard. Amy just looked nervous, glancing between the men.
Hershel gave a satisfied nod. "Then it's settled. Wesker can help you gather and secure them."
I turned to him, staring at the sly look he was giving me, Is that the father-in-law tone? He's already ordering me around, I thought dryly, fighting the twitch of a smile.
Eyes turned to me. Maggie covered her mouth, lips pursed in an almost-laugh she barely suppressed.
"Yes, sir," I said finally, leaning back in my chair.
Maggie chuckled low, shaking her head. Shawn's smirk lingered. And just like that, the tension at the table eased.
***
The porch board creaked underfoot as Rick, followed by the rest of his group, stepped out into the morning sun. The cicadas sang loudly in the fields, but the silence among Rick's people was louder.
Rick walked steadily, hand resting on his belt, chin set like stone. The same couldn't be said for the others, and what he braced for came quickly.
"You kidding me?" Shane snapped, cutting in front of him, halting him dead in his tracks, arms flowing wide. "No guns? Are you outta your damn mind? Did you even look at the fence? One push and it's down!"
Andrea folded her arms, jaw tight. "He's right. This isn't some Sunday picnic, Rick. Without weapons, we're just waiting to get picked off."
Glenn tried to cut in, his voice soft but tense, "Maybe—maybe it's temporary,"
"That's not the point." Andrea shot back, her eyes narrowing on Rick. "The point is, he doesn't get it. And now you've tied our hands because you're too busy playing the good guest."
Amy trialed close behind her sister, arms locked tight around herself. She agreed but didn't have Andrea's fire to say it, not anymore.
"What's going on?" Dale had shuffled down from his RV, his eyes narrowing as he stopped at the edge of the loose circle closing in around Rick.
"He wants to give up our guns," Daryl finally spoke, his tone unapologetic.
"What?" Dale turned to Rick for an answer.
Rick raised his head, voice calm but edged with steel. "I gave my word. This is his home. We're not here to strong-arm him. We won't draw a line between us and the man keeping us under his roof."
Lori hovered at Rick's side, her expression unreadable, but her silence said enough; she didn't agree with him.
Andrea scoffed, muttering, "Until one of us ends up dead."
Shane stopped pacing, glaring at Rick like he was about to jump at him. His voice dropped low. "His roof won't mean a damn thing when a herd comes tearing through here. You think Hershel's going to stop one of those things with a prayer? You putting faith in that, Rick? Huh?"
Rick exhaled through his nose, his finger pressing the bridge of his nose, "I get it, I do. But this doesn't work any other way. We respect his rules; he lets us stay."
The group fell silent for a moment.
.
.
Dale let out a long sigh, adjusting his hat. "I'm with Rick; he's trying to keep the peace. If we upset the man, he might just kick us out of here."
Some faces softened, but most stayed like stone, and none of them liked it.
"We make camp first," Rick said finally. The group held his gaze a moment longer before peeling away, scattering to their tasks.
Only Dale lingered a moment longer, "I hope you're right about this, Rick," he said quietly before following the others.
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****
Read +3 or +7 chapters ahead on my Pat*eon
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