Chapter 1
|May 23rd, 1997|
"Allison! Come on, I need some help behind the bar." A beautiful middle-aged woman with cropped dark-blonde hair and hazel eyes called from behind the live-edge wooden bar to the office several feet away from the well-lite shelves of alcohol.
"Be right there, May!" Allison Argent released a barely audible sigh as she dropped the dark-brown messenger bag into her cubby and stripped off her matching leather jacket to reveal the cropped dark-blue t-shirt that bared her toned midriff and low-rise leather trousers dyed a matte black that matched her black two-inch heeled combat boots.
She bit her lip as she walked out to a packed bar of men and women who weren't the nicest of people. Her body ached after the hours of hunting she had done and all she wanted to do was take a nice shower and crawl into her bed to sleep for the next week, but she had an eight-hour shift to get through and the pay was worth it.
Allison was one of the only women that could handle working here long term and was always willing to pick up an extra shift even last minute which gained her respect from every single one of her co-workers especially after she handled a bar-fight without the cops being called.
"Oh how I hate the Fridays." She muttered as she tied a dark-blue apron around her waist that matched her shirt perfectly. She grabbed the right beer for the regular customer trying to flag a bartender and quickly brought it over to the man. Truth was that the customers weren't so bad until they got drunk and nights like these where most of the townspeople got their paychecks made them tip generously.
She moved with the beat as she made her rounds behind the bar and got lost in the rush of customers coming and going. It was easy to get lost in the rhythm and focus solely on what needed to be done in the now. It wasn't until the last drunken customer stumbled out that she realized the heaviness to her eyes and the sharp hunger that filled her.
It had been nearly twelve hours since she had last eaten, and she was feeling it now. If she was lucky, she would get home and the dough for fresh bread would be ready to be shaped and put in the oven to cook. She'd take her shower and reheat some of the smoked venison to make a sandwich with the freshly made bread before climbing into bed for four hours of uninterrupted sleep.
That was how most of her days went. Usually, she would get up around nine, wash up, eat a light meal, and head back to the bar that was also a restaurant. There she would work until the bar closed from four to seven and then head home to take a small nap, get some chores done, and eat a meal for the night shift.
It was tough working fifteen-hour days with a three-hour split in her shift, but the pay was decent, and the tips were usually generous. Most people underestimated her kind smile and thin figure, but it worked out well for calming the drunks and her young age kept them from getting handsy or making too inappropriate comments.
Allison stuck around for half an hour to help clean-up before grabbing her things and heading outside. It was cold so she tugged her jacket closer and thanked the lord that her studio was only two blocks away as she didn't drive to or from work.
Her studio was decently sized and well-kept having just been remodeled before she moved in nearly six months ago. Though the kitchen was smaller than she liked and there was only room for her bed in the alcove and drawers in the frame, a three-person dining table against the wall, and a small four-person L-shaped couch in the corner opposite the kitchen. The bathroom was as big as the kitchen with a nice-sized glass shower, a small sink with a cupboard below and a thin mirror on the wall.
She was a creature of habit and as soon as she had hung her bag and jacket on the back of the door, she pulled out her leather zip-up pouch where she kept her tips and the pay she had been given for the week on her way out after the clean-up.
Her feet carried her over to the table where she sat down and pulled a small box hidden under the table. Inside is where she kept all of her money and after counting out her week's wages and the night's tips, she rolled all but twenty dollars and put the large amount back into the box which was quickly hidden away.
Allison was proud of herself; she lived comfortably and accumulated quite the savings. She didn't need the overtime or studio apartment or to go hunting and foraging in the woods, but every penny counted, and she gladly sacrificed her time and space she didn't need in order to save up her hard-earned cash.
She washed her hands with a wide smile as soon as she entered the kitchen. It took her less than a dozen minutes to get the dough into her usual bread pan and into the oven. After setting her timer, she entered the bathroom and stripped down to step into a nice steaming shower.
The hamper was nearly full which meant soon she'd have to do a load of laundry which sucked because it was all handwashing and drying that took up a substantial amount of time. Half-an-hour later she stepped out of the bathroom with her hair in a simple braid down her back and dressed in a long sleeveless shirt that barely covered her.
As the bread wasn't quite done, she pulled out a few slices of the smoked venison and popped them onto a small baking sheet that she slid into the oven. By the time she pulled out the bread, the meat was nice and hot, perfect for the sandwiches she was planning to make. She sipped a cold glass of water while the meat and bread cooled, thinly slicing up a few avocados to go on the bread to finish the meal and add both flavor and texture.
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|May 24th, 1997|
"Ohh, lookie here boys. We're bein' served by the sweet little church mouse today." A dirty middle-aged man whose had a few too many after a long day at work leered with glazed eyes. His name was Mitch, and he was usually a mild man who worked too hard, but he was a rough drunk who got real mean when he'd had more than three. "How you doin', Sweet Cheeks?"
Allison raised an eyebrow at him with cold eyes, but she said nothing. One of the reasons she hated working weekends was that she had to see the worst sides of people she usually thought of as decent people. "I think you're done for the night." She told him dryly and cocked her hip when he didn't budge. "Don't make me throw you out."
"Come on, Girlie." Mitch slurred as he stood and then swayed on the spot proving just how drunk she already knew he was. "We're good payin' customers."
"You might be paying, but another beer in you and you won't be so good anymore." Allison stated calmly and the grown men acted like boys sulking as they laid cash on their table before swaying out the door.
"Ya handled that well, Sweetheart." Merle Dixon said as he leant his arm over the back of his bench in the booth next to the corner table. He was just as dirty as the rest of the men in the bar after a hard day's work of overtime and shared a booth with his younger brother. Merle was in his early thirties with blonde curls cropped short and light-blue eyes that were full of the horrors he'd seen during his eight years with the Marine Corps.
Daryl Dixon, the twenty-year-old with brown waves only a little longer than his brother and those light-blue eyes they shared, was looking at her with the cold calculation that was to be expected from someone that had been hunting for so long. It was a look she knew was in her own eyes.
"That happen often?" Daryl asked surprising all three of them. He was the quiet brother, preferring silence and nature than the noise that accompanied most people.
The brothers respected the younger woman, she worked hard and could take care of herself. They ran into each other when hunting often enough to just join the party with better tracks and split the findings evenly between them even if they didn't talk with or know much about each other.
"Every week like clockwork." Allison said gathering the more than generous tips into her pocked before cleaning off the table. "They always leave more than generous tips and apologize when they see me again."
"That's good." Merle said giving her a genuine grin. He had grown to care for the little woman with a cold fire and was beginning to see her as a little sister. "Thanks for the basket you left on our porch."
The backet had been huge and contained a large number of things that were practical and very thoughtful. Two large blankets made from deer pelts that were treated soft and waterproof to provide them warmth from the cold. Two leather jackets, bags, gloves, belts, and several pouches made from deer leather. Rolls of natural thread made from deer sinew, a large bottle of glue made from deer hooves, a dozen candles and several bars of soap made from deer fat. Steaks, sausages, ground, smoked, and dehydrated venison made up nearly seventy pounds of pre-prepped meat. Two large pots of organ soup and several gallons of deer bone broth along with a few loaves of homemade bread.
Allison blushed under their knowing eyes. She knew that they would know it was from her, but she didn't expect them to thank her for it. She'd known them long enough to know that they didn't apologize or thank anyone for anything unless the person was family.
"It was real nice of ya." Daryl told her. He didn't understand why the woman had done it, but he knew it wasn't pity or charity and he did enjoy the cedar soap and his half of the leathers along with the really warm and soft blanket. The food was great even though they hadn't really needed it; it was nice to have variety and more flavor which he knew she had put effort into making for them.
"You're welcome." Allison told them with a grin. She didn't know why she had put that basket together, especially when she would've just added those supplies to her stock or sold them, but after they'd been so kind and welcoming, she had wanted to do something for them. It was obvious to her eyes that they hadn't had a woman's touch in their lives for a very long time and that's why she'd chosen the basket as she had.
The soup would feed them on cold nights and when they were sick. The broth could be used to make soups from future hunts. The meat offered flavor and a variety from their usual bland methods of cooking. The thread and glue could be used for any repairs they needed to do to their belongings. The leathers were because she had seen their fabric bags and pouches falling apart. The blankets and candles were because it was still very cold at night, and she knew most of those older cabins didn't have electricity. And the soap was because they needed something to wash themselves and their clothes in that wasn't the cheap crap that didn't do much.
"Where'd ya learn to make that stuff, Sweetheart?" Merle asked curiously, watching as she moved to clean up another empty table next to theirs. He knew it took skill to do what she'd done and now wondered if that was why she took all of those parts from their hunts that they'd deemed useless.
"My family." Allison said with a soft sigh. She could feel tension rolling through her at just the thought of them. Her parents, aunt, friends. They'd all taught her valuable things and she treasured her knowledge, but she was also grieving the life she left behind when she died.
The Dixon brothers shared a look and dropped the topic. It didn't seem like a bad history, but they had seen the strong emotions rolling through her enough to know that it wasn't any of their business.
"Do ya mind tradin' with us?" Daryl asked thinking of all the things she made from parts he'd deemed useless. He didn't like wasting all of that now that he knew what it all could make.
"Not at all." Allison leant against their table. "What'cha got in mind?"
"We hunt a lot more than you do. If we bring ya the parts ya need, would ya mind givin' us some of what ya make?" Merle offered having followed his brother's train of thought and agreeing. It didn't sit right with him to waste so much of them animals when there was so much they could make.
"Sounds fair to me." Allison agreed thoughtfully. "I'll make a list of what I can make and what I need to make it. If you bring me the stuff, I'll make yours when I make mine."
"If ya make so much, what do ya do with all the extra?" Daryl asked wondering why he was talking so much that night. He figured it had something to do with his third beer empty on the table.
"Sell or trade it for the most part." Allison shrugged nonchalantly. "Most of my trade comes from the farmers."
Around here, farmers live off their land with the rare bits of meat that come from a slaughter or a hunt, so they were always willing to trade for her leather, pelts, candles, soaps, meat, broth, soup, and glue for rice, flour, oats, milk, eggs, fruits, and vegetables.
"Yer just full of surprises." Merle said taking the last swig of his fourth beer.
The Dixon brothers weren't used to letting people in their lives, it had always been just the two of them and no one else. Now, they had Allison Argent. A smart and beautiful woman that knew how to live off the land and take care of herself. She didn't go getting into anyone's business and had no patience for gossip. She worked just as many hours as everyone else in this town if not more and didn't believe in slacking or being lazy.
Daryl had found a woman that understood his quiet nature. That shared his respect for nature. Someone that accepted him for who he was. He was the quiet brother that enjoyed a beer or two, the brother that would rather hunt and forage than go to a bar, the brother that would rather walk away from a fight than start one.
Merle had found himself another sibling, a little sister. He'd found someone that knew who he was and didn't treat him any differently. He drank more than he should, talked some fowl things, started fights when he got angry, and spent his nights in the bar because he didn't want to see the warzones in his dreams.
Though Allison Argent didn't know it yet, she'd become a Dixon.