Minority Page 1

Author's note: This story should be looked at as sort of a parody. I can't help but notice that there are less and less minorities on the show. They're supposed to be in Georgia/Atlanta right? So this is what happens when Ricks group meets another group of survivors - making them the new minority. Pairings include Merle/OC and Daryl/Glenn


"I heard it mooing!"

"Shh! You want to attract walkers. Keep your voice down."

"Which way, Peaches?"

"Over here. Caught sight of the farm house when we were up on the ridge. Looks like another abandoned one."

"If it's a female that'd be great."

"Might be two. A boy and a girl."

"Might be none. Just two lame-brains roaming around in white suits."

"Way to be optimistic, douche."

"Fine, I'll be like you and think there's a cow just wandering around this field. Somehow unscathed by walkers."

"Both of you can shut up now….oh! I see it. Give me the rope. Let's tie it up and check it for bites."

"Freeze!" Rick yelled out of habit. He shined a light on the intruders and they scattered like roaches. "God damn it." He went after one and heard Daryl sprint off to catch another. "Hold it!" He called. All he could see of the person was the tan bottoms of their shoes as they left him in the dust.

"Fuck you." She said over her shoulder. Rick ran after them until he realized he had lost them in the dark. The sound of their steps got further away until all he could hear was his own. He turned quickly and headed back to the farm when he heard a scream.

"Cannibals! Peaches, god damn you and your blasted cows!"

"Gotcha!" Daryl said triumphantly as he tackled a girl to the ground. "Ah!" He yelped when something hard and narrow slapped him in the face. "God damn it, girl!" She wormed from underneath him and hopped to her feet.

"Cannibal bastard!" She said as she struck him in the back with what ever she had in her hand. Daryl growled and brought up his crossbow. When words didn't work, threatening always did. Rick came just in time with his flashlight and shined it on her. She put her hands up when she realized Daryl had a weapon pointed at her.

"I'm not a cannibal. But if you hit me again and I'll take a chunk out your ass." He said before he grabbed her by the arm. "Get moving."


"Robin?" Daryl asked as he examined the bow in his hand. He had taken it from the girl they caught in the field. When they got her back to the house they sat her in a small parlor and left Daryl to guard her while they went to discuss what to do with her. Daryl said the obvious: 'Let her go. What did they need her for?' but they seemingly ignored his suggestion. Lately everything had centered around keeping the farm safe. Other survivors had proved to be untrustworthy and dangerous. So that meant if you weren't already in the group you were treated as hostile. Shane had taken her quiver and for some reason the laces out of her shoes. And Daryl was charged with her bow. He spotted the name inscribed on the stem of the bow and glanced at her. "Like Robin Hood?"

"Call me that again and I'll 'put hands on you'." She said. Daryl lifted an eyebrow at her threat. It didn't sound very menacing in her proper accent. She didn't even sound like she was from America. He just snorted – it figured foreigners would be the ones to survive the apocalypse. He knew it probably didn't matter so much anymore. The only people guarding the border were mindless, half decayed walking corpses. They sat in silence for a moment before she spoke again. "It's Hermangarde."

"What is?" he asked as he ran his index finger over the taut line.

"My name. It's Robin Hermangarde."

"Oh. Daryl Dixon." He introduced himself. She crinkled her nose a little.

"Charmed." She said like she really wasn't. Like it was habit to say it – like how Rick had yelled out 'freeze'.

"What'd you and your friends want?" he asked.

"A cow." She answered.

"Y'all got a farm?" He asked.

"No, we just wanted to eat it." She answered.

"How many of you are there?" he asked as he sat across from her. He studied her for a second. Despite being covered in grass, dirt and sweat she sat primly. Her back bone straight, her knees together – her hands resting neatly in her lap, her fingers tightly together. 'Got a mile long stick up her ass. Great, another Andrea.' Daryl thought. Her hair was cropped short and held out of her face by a headband. She was pale but he could tell she wasn't white. 'A half breed.'

"Five, not including me." She answered.

"You're awfully cooperative." He pointed out.

"I've learned that being difficult encourages hostility." She said. "If I am no harm to you, you'll let me go."

"True." He agreed.

"I'll take that back now." She said, matter of fact. Daryl looked at her bow and shifted it to his other hand.

"Not after the whooping you gave me in the field." He said shaking his head. He then pointed to the blaring red stripe on his face where she had hit him with the bow. He could feel it throbbing. He'd be all blue and swollen tomorrow. "Will they come for you – the other people in your group?"

"Probably not." She said.

"Not a whole lotta loyalty in your group?" he asked.

"No. It's night. Why would they risk it now? They'll come in the morning when I don't return."

"Sound reasoning." He shrugged as he reached in his pocket. There hadn't been an abundance of logic going around lately. He pulled out a beat up pack of Parliaments and fished one out. "Smoke?"

"No." She replied curtly.

"You don't seem worried." He pointed out.

"I haven't done anything wrong." She shrugged.


"Rise and shine hillbillies!" Rick jumped up when he heard someone's voice through a megaphone. He rushed out the tent, pulling on his clothes and looking around for the source of the noise. There was what appeared to be a large ice cream truck coming down the dirt road to the farm. They all grabbed a gun and ran to head them off. They stopped just at the end of the main driveway. "Where's my girl, Robin?" the driver asked over the loud speaker.

"Keep it down. You'll attract walkers!" Rick hissed. "Come out here and we'll talk."

"Why you get to call the shots?" she asked – her voice booming through the speaker. "Who died and made you President?"

"Peaches!" Came a stern tone from the passenger seat. She rolled her eyes and hung up the mike and turned off the truck. She picked up her glock and climbed out.

"No guns." Shane said.

"But you've got guns." 'Peaches' argued. "And you're pointing it at me."

"Put the gun down, now!"

"No." She simply said. "Stop giving me orders."

"She's got a point. You're not in charge of us. And right now all we know is that you're a bunch of backwoods kidnappers." The passenger said as she got out the truck with a sawed off shotgun. "You approached us with guns." She pointed out. Rick sucked his teeth and lowered his gun. He tossed a glance over his shoulder – his way of telling everyone to stand down. Shane gave an indignant huff and swung his riffle around to his back on the strap.

"Robin said there were five of you. Where are the others?" Daryl asked. Peaches gave him a look before she knocked against the back of the truck. The double doors opened and two more people hopped out the back. A slender Indian man and woman. They tentatively rounded the van and stood behind Peaches. She looked past them and sucked her teeth.

"Where's the gimp?" She asked. Before they could answer she stormed to the back. "Husband! Get your lazy ass out here."

"Damn it - you loud mouth, fat ass, jungle bunny. Stop your god forsaken hollering." Everyone seemed to twitch at the crude string of obscenities except Peaches.

"Call me that again I'll cut off your other hand. Now move your redneck ass before I move it for you." She barked back.

"Holy shit…" Daryl said under his breath. He almost couldn't believe it when Merle climbed out the back of the truck. "The hell is this crap?"

"I'll be damned." Merle said as he moved past Peaches. Daryl practically ran to his brother and hugged him. "You still with these pussies?"

"Might as well be – it's where you left me." Daryl said as they patted each others backs heavily. They smiled wide at one another before giving appearances a once over. Daryl looked the same – as did Merle, minus his hand. But instead of a lumpy, burned up stub there was what looked like a leather cuff over it.

"When Peaches told me someone took that stuck up, zebra bitch I never imagined—" His sentence was cut off when Peaches smacked him in the back of the head. "God damn it woman-!"

"We have names." She interrupted. "I warned you about that shit."

"You're about to have a boot up your ass, spook. Go on now, I'm reuniting with my family here." Merle said. They both flinched back when she suddenly shoved the point of a machete in his face.

"Don't piss me off, cracker!" she yelled at him.

"Alright, everyone just calm down." Rick interjected.

"This is them 'calm'." The Indian man said. They all nodded in agreement.

"Look how bout we all just take a step back, sit down and talk about this."

"What's there to talk about? Give us Robin and we'll go." Peaches said. "Tell them Katherine." The way she pronounced the woman's name it sounded like Kather-reen. She just sighed.

"He has our girl, for now he holds the cards. He wants a convo." Katherine said as she shut the back door of the van. She walked up to Rick and extended her hand. "Katherine Black." She introduced herself. "Y'all know Merle. The mouthy one is Peaches. The guy is Charles. The girl is Mischa."

"Rick Grimes."


"This is what they're so protective of?" Peaches asked as she walked around the outside of the farmhouse with Lori. Even in the end of the world the place was dilapidated. Farmhouses were often in a such a state. It looked like they were trying to repair it but it was falling apart too fast for them to fix.

"It's more of an idea, rather than the actual place. It's safe here. Safer than anywhere we've been so far." Lori explained.

"Still doesn't keep it from being a shit shack." Peaches muttered. Rick had allowed the other members of Katherine's group to wander around the farm so long s they were 'escorted' by member of his group.

"Do you mind is I ask…um—

"What's up with me and 'the honky'." Peaches finished her sentence. Lori smirked. 'Glad to see your priorities are in such important order.' She thought as she rolled her eyes. "It's a long story." She assured Lori. "Cracker bastard grew on me like a grey hair."

"Woman!" They both stopped walking when they heard Merle shout at them. He walked up to them with Daryl following not too far behind. "Where's my hook? Can't go hunting for your dinner without my hook."

"Have you looked up your own ass?" Peaches asked with a smile. Merle advanced on her so quickly it made Lori take a step back – afraid that she'd get caught in his swing at her. She looked around almost frantically, wishing Shane were there to at least put up some kind of defense against Merle. But instead of raising his hand to hit her he just stopped short and stared down at her. For a long, tense moment they just looked at each other. Merle's glare finally softened and he grinned. It made Lori's skin crawl.

"May I have my hook…?" He asked through grit teeth. Peaches just crossed her arms and pursed her lips. "Please." Merle growled out. As soon as he said the 'magic word' she held up a somewhat shiny prosthetic pincher-hook. His smile widened and he held up his cuff covered stump.

"You going with your brother?" She asked as she slid it into the notch in his cuff. She twisted it and it clicked into place.

"Yeah, so we can catch up." He said.

"Take princess Robin with you."

"Come on now – I don't need no coos babysitter." Merle said. "I wanna cut loose with my brother."

"Fine." Peaches sighed before she put her arms around his broad shoulders. "Be safe. Catch something good."

"Don't tell me what to do." He said and crinkled his nose a little. He then tapped his forehead against hers – the impact making a soft smack. She just smiled as he set off. Lori let out a sigh in disbelief. Suddenly she and Rick seemed so much more functional.


"I was an EMT. Mischa was a fire fighter in the Army reserves." Charles said as he helped Dale haul water back from the well behind the chicken coops.

"So you know about medicine?" he asked. "I gotta say this is a bit of serendipitous luck."

"Why's that?"

"Rick…our pseudo leader – his wife is pregnant." Dale said. Charles seemed to freeze for a second.

"Oh." He said after a moment. "That's…both very good and very bad news."

"Yes, it's become a subject of concern with this temporary homestead. Rick and the owner, Hershel don't see eye to eye. And it seems like things have gone nothing but wrong since we got here." Dale said.

"I'm guessing it'll be better if we move along as quickly as possible." Charles said. He trailed off a bit, looking around for a second. Mapping the area with his eyes, searching for the quickest route out.

"Well that's what they're talking about in there."

"While we're out here doing busy work? They are pretty much deciding our futures." Charles said. "Is that how it always is in your group?"

"What do you mean?"

"That guy – Rick. He makes all the decisions for everyone and you guys just…" Charles shrugged. "Follow him. That's kind of weird."

"We weigh our options. And decide together what's best for the group – together." Dale said. On some level Charles realized Dale didn't really believe that. "What do you do?"

"Well, we mostly just settle in one place until the walkers become a problem. Keep our trucks well maintained just incase. We started out in New York with just me and Katherine. Found Mischa – holed up in a gas station mini mart in Pennsylvania. Peaches and Robin in North Carolina. Merle just south of them."

"Merle made it all the way to North Carolina?" Dale asked in disbelief. Charles laughed.

"We spotted him right at the border to South Carolina. We thought he was a walker until he flagged us down. First thing he did was curse out Peaches when she told him where he was. She head butted him and kicked him in the nuts and that was the start of their 'great love'." He snorted. "He was pissed when he realized he had been going in the wrong direction."

"Where were you headed when you stopped here?"

"Nowhere in particular. We settle where we can. But like I said, we only stay in one place for maybe a month before walkers start roaming too close for comfort."

"You're not looking for a cure or army protection?"

"Why would we? We can protect ourselves and none of us are high grade scientists. What good would a cure be in our hands?" Charles answered his question with another question. Dale seemed to mule over what Charles told him before he shrugged. "As far as I know there's no cure for death. Even if we could change the infected back to normal their organs would be useless – half their faces and limbs chewed off. The best thing for them is to put them out of their misery."

"Anything you can tell me about them?" Dale asked.

"Aim for the head." Charles stated. "Or the knee caps. They can't walk, they can't get you."

"I see."

"We studied this one walker that kept sitting on the car outside one of the houses we stayed in – in Raleigh. Everyday he came and sat on the same car and just waited and waited for who knows what. Until…he couldn't move anymore. He rotted – couldn't catch anything to eat."

"So they eventually…just die off?" Dale asked.

"Is it so unbelievable? They still have a human physicality. Without food, they die. Just like us. Actually we discovered that regular humans are more fragile. We can drown, suffocate on smoke fumes, injure a vital organ – walkers do any of that stuff and they keep limping along like nothing happened."

"Good to know."


"Where is your group settled now?"

"About four miles west of here." Katherine answered. "We found this little motel next to a gas station and decided to hold up for a while. Collect stuff in the area – give the fridge a rest."

"Fridge?" Hershel asked.

"Oh, it's what we call the ice cream truck." Katherine answered. "We also have one of those food trucks with built in fryer and stove. It's back at the motel."

"So you're—

"Yeah, basically meals on wheels." She joked. "Amazingly enough every gas station has tons of diesel left over – no one needed it during the first wave so every tank is full. The truck is self-sustaining with that stuff. Gas powers the engine, engine keeps the freezer and stove running – and there's no extra strain on the engine because it's what the vehicle was made for."

"That's actually a good idea. What made you think of the ice cream truck?" Rick asked.

"No one else did." She answered truthfully. "Every one wanted either fast cars or electric ones to get them out of the city. After a while the power grid went down so electric cars became useless. And regular cars don't run on diesel and that's all that's left. Me and Charles found the ice cream truck completely untouched, full of gas, bottled water and snacks. There were three of them actually so we took all the food and vital parts from the other two and kept them to make repairs on our main one."

"You seem to have adapted well to this…situation." Rick pointed out.

"It's not that hard." Katherine said with a shrug. "I mean I miss my old life but dwelling on it ain't gonna keep me alive. Speaking of which, you might want to put your cows in the barn. If we saw them and heard them – then other people can too…and not just survivors who might want to take your little hamlet." Rick and Hershel looked at each other. "We done here?"

"No, actually. I was just thinking… we might be able to help each other out." Rick said.


"Katherine? She's a bitch." Merle said.

"Are any of them not?" Daryl asked.

"Nope. They all drive me crazy with their shit but compared to your group of pansies they are practically navy seals." He snorted. "Katherine… she's always so god damn calm all the time. Little miss level head. Surprising for a red bone girl, they're usually nutty as squirrel shit."

"She seems like she's seen a lot. She ever talk about who she lost to the walkers?"

"Her friends. Apparently she used to be really popular. Ran the Waldorf-Astoria in New York or some crap like that. One of those micro managing, crisis, anytime chicks that cater to rich pricks." Merle answered.

"The Indians?"

"Normal and plain as paper." Merle said. "They're either related or something. I don't know. The girl is a total military dyke though."

"Merle, I gotta ask. What's up with you and that fat ass spade?" Daryl asked. He flinched when Merle shot him a glare.

"Watch your mouth boy. That's my woman you're talking about." He warned.

"You called her a jungle bunny…and a spook." Daryl pointed out.

"That's just how we talk to each other." Merle said and smiled a little. "Since day one she didn't take none of my shit. Beat the crap out of me every time I got out of line. Stuck with me while I was detoxing and out of my mind..."

"So she's basically domesticated you. She carry your nuts around in her purse next to her tampons?" Daryl chuckled.

"Laugh all you want, that woman is the reason I'm alive." Merle said. "And she is every bit of the bitch that she seems to be."

"Why you put up with that?"

"I don't think you'd understand."

"Aw shit, you're in love with her!" Daryl laughed. "That's sad. You're like them abused chicks that won't leave their husbands." Merle snorted.

"Have you seen the tits on her? Her cleavage is where I keep my hook. And I ain't lost my edge. See." He held up his hook and Daryl laughed. "You stick with someone. They keep you alive and all of a sudden color stops mattering. Everything you were so sure of shatters like a god damn dinner plate. She had patience for me when the others wanted to leave me in a ditch. It ain't easy dealing with these demons of mine. The way I see it all that thick brown skin is keeping all her goodness inside."

"Spare me the mushy crap." Daryl said with a roll of his eyes. "Alright, so basically the pussy is good and she keeps you from being a dick. And in return you feed her and don't murder them all in their sleep." Daryl rationalized. "She does have nice lips."

"Hell yeah she does! All that ass and titties are more 'cushion for the pushin'." Merle said before he nudged Daryl in the shoulder playfully. "Doesn't hurt that she ain't a stuck up skinny bitch pretending to be tough."

"Yeah, we seem to have a stock pile of those." Daryl said.

"You thinking about joining me and my crew of darkies?"

"Why don't y'all join us?" Daryl asked. Merle went silent. It really wasn't his call but he didn't want to admit it. They had made it clear the first day that he wasn't the leader of anything. Nobody was. Oddly enough he didn't feel angry about it. 'Watch your ass' and 'watch your mouth' were basically the only rules they ever gave him. If he wanted to leave he could and they wouldn't resent him. But if his choices were joining Rick's group or staying with them he'd gladly stay where he was.

"Alright but those girls don't pull any punches. Y'all might throw us out because we ain't afraid to tell you you're being assholes."

"Sounds like that's just what this crew needs." Daryl said as he took aim with his crossbow. He nailed a squirrel to a tree and Merle whistled.

"Nice."

"Thanks… so what's the deal with that light skinned chick with the bow. She any good with it?"

"An Olympic level champion – or at least that what she claims. She came here for a tournament and then all this happened and she got stuck. Won't stop acting like Queen Mary—

"Elizabeth." Daryl corrected him.

"Don't sass me." Merle said as he brandished his hook. Daryl chuckled and reset the line of his bow. "Anyway you finally stick it to that blond bitch? She seems slightly less uppity than the last time I saw her."

"Naw, I'm not touching that." Daryl said. "She shot me a few weeks ago. Bitch is crazy." Daryl skirted the discussion about his sex life by nailing another squirrel.


"Explain it to me again. Why are we staying to help these people?" Robin asked.

"Cause good deeds are good karma." Katherine answered. "Think of it as helping the population. You saw how easy it was to sneak up here. These people are humans – they don't want to eat us and we could use a few days of interacting with people other than us."

"I don't know, Kathy." Mischa said as she peered out the window at Shane. "That guy makes me really uncomfortable."

"More so than Merle?"

"Yes." Mischa answered truthfully. "At least Merle let's us know he's crazy. That guy… he's off. All of them are except for the kid."

"Why is that Rick guy so hell bent of settling here? I mean, doesn't he know he basically has the pick of the litter as far as places go?" Peaches asked.

"It's his wife. She's pregnant. They also lost a little girl a few days ago – she was turned and he had to put her down. He doesn't want that for his little boy so he's clinging to this place cause he can't think of anything else." Charles said. "Poor bastard doesn't even acknowledge that his best friend is in love with his wife."

"How do you know all that?" Robin asked.

"Spent the afternoon with the old guy…Dale. He's a gabber... I mean friendly." Charles said. "So it's a tie on staying and leaving. What should we do?"

"We don't have to spend the night here. The motel isn't far enough for that." She said. "I'll tell them we'll be back to help them out tomorrow."