At first the storms seemed normal. Hurricane season on the East coast always meant big storms, and lots of them. Weathermen got excited, old people got scared, and everybody soaked up on bottled water, batteries, and gas for their generators. But this year everyone understood that things were changing. Instead of waiting for a handful of storms and then breathing a sigh of relief when the season changed, the forecast showed that there would be no relief. In Georgia, hurricanes and tropical storms were set to pound the coast, presumably until nothing was left. The rest of the state would feel the effects, and the rest of the country would have their own hurricanes, tornadoes, and even earthquakes, if the scientists were right.

Daryl couldn't say he was all that worried. He was used to one storm or another in his life, but usually it was a rage-filled shitstorm from his brother Merle or the alcohol-induced fits his dad had thrown when he was a kid, usually ending in more than one bruise for Daryl. After being on the receiving end of those kinds of storms, a little wind wasn't shit.

"Ain't no storm gonna take me down, baby brother," Merle had said when people first started talking about the extreme weather. "I see this as the chance of a lifetime."

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" Daryl had asked, half hoping he wouldn't bother to answer. Merle always had one scheme or another that he wanted to drag Daryl into.

"All these assholes around here gonna get scared and hightail it outa here, leave all their shit behind," Merle said. "We'll be here to scoop it all up."

"What, break into their abandoned houses?"

"Why the fuck not? If they stupid enough to leave their shit, we're smart enough to take it," Merle said, laughing, as Daryl turned away and rolled his eyes.

Daryl had had another idea. He knew several of the local neighborhoods were pooling resources to build underground shelters as quickly as they could, and he wanted to get hired on one of the crews. It had always been like this: Merle cooking up some scheme and getting Daryl involved, when all Daryl wanted to do was make an honest living. He had such a hard time saying no to his brother.

"That ain't such a bad idea," Merle said when Daryl told him he was going to work on a local shelter. "We can scope out the area and see what people've got that's worth takin.'"

Daryl had managed to land a job on a crew that was building shelters all through the next town, and somehow Merle talked himself onto the same crew. They would be working with a handful of other men, building an underground shelter for four families who lived at the end of a long country road. A few days into the job, Daryl had met the Grimes family, a friendly cop named Rick, his wife Lori, and their son Carl. He prayed Merle wouldn't do anything stupid with a cop around. He'd also met the Johnsons and the Walkers, but the Peletiers hadn't come around yet. He knew they had a little girl and the guy was a used car salesman, but no one had even mentioned the wife.

"These are nice people, Merle," Daryl said one day when the two brothers were on a smoke break. "And that Grimes guy's a cop. I ain't doin' nothin' you've got planned."

Merle laughed. "Knew you'd pussy out on me like you always do. Fuck it, I ain't waitin' for no storms. These people are startin' to trust us already. Well, 'cept for those Peletiers that ain't come around yet. Wonder what's goin' on with them."

Daryl didn't have to wait long to solve the mystery of the Peletiers. As he headed to his truck one evening after a long hard day of work, he heard a woman's screams. He ran toward the sound, which led him straight into the Peletiers' yard. The screams stopped, and then the front door opened and slammed closed behind a large man who stomped past Daryl, then turned around to face him. "What the fuck do you want?" he drawled. Daryl wasn't sure what to say, so he shrugged and headed for his truck, hoping the man wouldn't push it. He sat in the driver's seat and watched Mr. Peletier drive off, then headed back to the Peletiers' porch.

He could hear the sobbing through the door. I can't get involved, he thought. But he had to make sure she was okay, at least. He took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the door. The sobbing stopped and for a long moment it felt as though they were both holding their breath. Daryl knew he should walk away, but something was keeping him on that porch. He waited for what felt like forever until finally the door opened a bit.

"Yes?" she said with a slight smile, as if this were any other visit, as if she weren't standing there with a swollen, bleeding lip. She saw him staring at it and covered her mouth with her hand.

"You okay, ma'am? I . . . I thought I . . . I heard . . ." He babbled, wanting the porch to swallow him up.

"Mommy, who is it? Is Daddy gone?" A young girl, no more than eleven or twelve, appeared at the woman's side. She looked as if she had been crying too.

"Nobody, honey," Mrs. Peletier said, putting her arm around the girl. "One of the workers, I think. Did you need something? I'm Carol, by the way." She held out a trembling hand. She was trying to be strong for her daughter but Daryl could see that she was a mess of nerves.

"Daryl," he said, taking her small, cool hand in his. He wondered briefly if his rough calluses might hurt her and then realized how ridiculous that was. The woman's husband just beat her ass, and he was worried about a callus scratching her palm? He couldn't help it, though. She was so small, so delicate. "I didn't need nothin.' Sorry to bother you, ma'am." He nodded, looking her in the eye for the briefest moment, and gave the girl a small smile.

"We're fine here," Carol said firmly, starting to close the door. He nodded again and headed back to his truck.

Her face haunted him all night. She'd tried to pretend everything was okay, even with a bleeding mouth and tear stains on her cheeks, even knowing that he had probably just heard her screaming. Why would she protect that asshole if he was hurting her? Daryl knew he shouldn't get involved. It was none of his business. But something inside him couldn't let it go. Something about her had grabbed onto him and now he couldn't think of anything else. He had to see her again, had to make sure she was ok. Daryl woke up the following morning with her face still on his mind. He sighed, running a hand over his face. A storm was coming, all right, but it didn't have anything to do with rain and wind.