Chapter 2
"Son of a bitch!" Daryl grunted, kicking the wheel rim hard.
"Ain't helpin', baby brother," Merle grunted as he slammed his hand against the hood. The passenger side door swung open, and Carol stepped out, arms wrapped about her middle as her gaze flickered anxiously between Daryl and Merle. She squinted into the harsh, bright, fluorescent lights that lit up the area around the gas pumps.
"What's going on?" she asked, shivering as the cool evening air clung to her skin.
"We've got a flat. That's what's goin' on," Daryl grumbled.
"Hey, sweetheart, why don't you run in and get us some coffee and maybe pay the fella for ten bucks in gas?" Merle asked. "We can fix the tire. Just gonna take a few minutes is all. Oh yeah, might want to grab a can of Fix-A-Flat."
"Great," Carol murmured. "Give me the cash and I'd be happy to."
"Nice try, sweetheart," Merle snickered. "I'm the one doin' you the favor, right? Take it out of my cut."
"Shut up, Merle," Daryl muttered, grabbing his wallet and fishing out a twenty. "C'mon. You hungry?" Carol glanced at him before nodding, and he stepped out of the way for her to walk past.
"What, you ain't gonna help me fix this fucker?" Merle asked, kneeling down on the ground by the flattened tire.
"You're the one who blew the tire. Fix it your own self," Daryl muttered, turning to follow Carol into the gas station.
He caught up with her at the hot food counter, and he cleared his throat as he reached around to grab a hot dog bun.
"Probably a good idea to eat now. Once we get out on the road, Merle don't like stoppin' much."
"Your brother…is he dangerous?"
"Merle? Hell no," Daryl snorted. "He's done time, don't get me wrong. Done some pretty stupid shit, but he ain't never hurt a woman before as far as I know. You're the one hired him anyway. Where'd you meet him? You don't look like the type that'd hang out in the same places as my brother."
"Uh," Carol said with a little chuckle, "I'm not. I got a call from the owner of that bar on 3rd street. He told me to come pick up Ed, because the cabs refused to haul him home again. Ed's suckered the cab service out of too many fares, I guess." She sniffled and reached into the hot case with a pair of tongs to retrieve a hotdog. "This guy—your brother—helps me get Ed out to the car. Of course, Ed starts putting his hands on me, and Merle gets rough with him, puts him in the backseat. Ed blacks out, and your brother starts to leave. I mean, he could have just walked away, but he turns around, and he—I think he was flirting with me—asks what a pretty girl like me's doing with an asshole like Ed Peletier."
"Merle knows him?"
"Oh, they probably just know each other from the bar. Anyway, we talk for a few minutes, and Merle says he can help me leave if the price is right. And I had a part-time job. I saved up. So I figured this was my chance. If I was going to leave, the time had to be right. And this is it." She shrugged and squirted some ketchup and mustard onto her hotdog.
"So you just trust a stranger to get you away? You ain't concerned he's gonna rob you or hurt you?"
"I've lived with Ed for the past three years. I've been hurt enough," she murmured. "Besides, Merle gets the money when he gets me out of town. We have to just trust each other." As they walked up to the counter to pay, Carol reached into her pocket, but Daryl shook his head and slapped the twenty down on the counter.
"Ten on pump 3, and a can of Fix-a-Flat." The young man behind the counter glanced tiredly out the window and pushed a few buttons on the register before ringing up the purchase and giving Daryl the few cents in change back.
As they pushed out into the cool evening air, Daryl lingered, letting Carol walk out first.
"Where you from? You ain't from 'round here," Daryl said quietly as the soles of his boots scraped against the pavement.
"I was born in Georgia," Carol said with a smile.
"But you didn't grow up here," Daryl observed.
"My dad was a military man. We moved all over. I mostly grew up in Ohio, but we moved to Atlanta when I was sixteen. It's where I met Ed. But before that, I lived in Ontario, Honolulu, Okinawa, and we even stayed a while in Melbourne."
"Australia?
"Yeah," Carol said with a chuckle. "We moved a lot. When I was seventeen, we moved to Nebraska."
"Nebraska?"
"Yeah," Carol said quietly as Daryl bent over to hand Merle the can of Fix-a-Flat. Merle grunted his thanks, and Carol leaned against the side of the truck, while Daryl pumped the gas. "I was under age, so I didn't really have a choice. I tried to run away so I could be with Ed. We were madly in love." She rolled her eyes. "But my parents hated him. They hated him. But I swore I'd leave home the second I turned eighteen."
"Guess you did."
"Yeah," Carol murmured. "The night of my eighteenth birthday, I took a bus to Atlanta, and my daddy drove all night to come after me. Things got bad really fast, and…and then he left, and I never saw him again." She looked down. "I should have left with him. I should have. But I just knew that Ed was it for me. And…and about a year later, I get the call that my dad's dead, and I…I just…" She shook her head.
"M'sorry," Daryl murmured.
"Thanks," Carol said quietly. "I should have left him a long time ago." They stood together in silence then, eating and listening to Merle curse as he tried to repair the truck. Finally, Carol cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said all of that."
"Hey, I don't mind. Don't talk to most folks, 'cept Merle and my boss, Axel. 'Sides, you ain't the only one who's got a shitty past."
"It is nice. To talk to someone, I mean," Carol agreed with a nervous smile. Daryl blushed and shrugged, and Merle stood up and flashed his brother a grin.
"She's good as new," Merle announced. "You two finished verbally fuckin' each other, or do you need a minute?"
"Fuck you," Daryl grunted, flashing his brother a look of disapproval. He opened the passenger door, and Carol slid in first. Just as Daryl was slipping inside, a car pulled into the parking lot, high beams on, and Daryl cursed under his breath, shielding his eyes as the car pulled up facing them at the next pump.
"Christ, buddy, turn your damned high beams off!" Merle shouted, as he opened up the truck door and started to get in. But Carol let out a little gasp between the two men, and Daryl glanced at her, noticing the color fading from her face.
"What is it?"
"Ed," she murmured. "Merle. Get in the truck. Let's go. Merle!" Merle glanced at Carol and then he pulled his leg up into the cab.
"Alright, hang on," he said with a nod. Just then, the driver's door to the car across from them swung open, and Ed got out, staggering and struggling to stand up straight.
"Christ, he's hammered," Daryl pointed out. "C'mon. Let's go." Just as Merle turned the key in the ignition, Ed raised his right hand, revealing the pistol, shaky and unsteady in his fumbling grasp.
"I told you this bullet was for you, you bitch," he slurred. "You runnin' around town with these assholes? You tryin' to leave?"
"Merle, please. Just go!" Carol begged, as she reached for the gear shift. Merle put his foot on the brake as she shifted it into reverse, and when he let up, the truck started to back away. Ed lurched forward, and Merle stepped on the gas, narrowly missing hitting one of the gas pumps before he slammed the car into drive and started off toward the street.
The next few moments seemed to move in slow motion as a loud crack sounded, and the passenger's side window shattered.
"Get down!" Daryl shouted, throwing himself over Carol in the middle of the seat, as she jostled Merle in Daryl's haste. Merle swerved but quickly corrected before speeding off. Daryl slowly sat up, letting Carol sit up, and it was then Carol felt the warmth of blood soaking through her shirt. For a moment, panic rose in her throat, and she smoothed her hand over her chest, feeling no pain as the sticky, red substance clung to her hand. It was then that she saw Daryl holding onto his shoulder, a grimace set as he clenched his jaw and breathed raggedly through his nose.
"Daryl!" she exclaimed. "Merle, Daryl's shot." Merle slowed a little, reaching across the cab to pull back the collar on Daryl's shirt, revealing the painful wound.
"It go through?"
"Yeah," Daryl grunted. "Think so. Ow, fuck!" The truck had jostled as Merle hit a pothole.
"Merle, we have to get him to a hospital."
"We gotta get you away from that maniac," Daryl said with a shake of his head.
"I don't want you bleeding to death on account of me. Please," Carol insisted. "Please." Daryl and Merle shared a glance before Merle took a sharp left turn back toward town.
"Hang in there, little brother."
...
"I'm so sorry," Carol murmured, wincing when Daryl winced.
"Ain't nothin' for you to be sorry about," Daryl said quietly, as Merle paced back and forth in front of the exam table. "You ain't the one that shot me. 'Sides, it went clean through. I'll be good as new soon as this heals." Carol sighed heavily and shook her head.
When they'd arrived at the hospital, the first thing done after the doctors determined Daryl wasn't in any danger of bleeding out was call the police to report a gunshot. The police had arrived and spoken to all three of them separately, and apparently, the story had checked out, because the police had ordered a patrol car to the Peletier residence before leaving the hospital.
"This is all my fault," Carol pointed out. "I'm the one that wanted to leave Ed."
"You didn't put that gun in his hand. You didn't pull the trigger. Hell, you're still standin' here. I figured you'd be three counties over by now."
"You don't know me very well," Carol said with a hint of a smile. "Look, you two have been wonderful, and I can't thank you enough for your help. But if it's all the same, I think it's best if I head out on my own now."
"You serious?" Daryl asked, as Merle stopped pacing. "That man tried to kill you."
"Look, I can get your brother his money."
"Fuck the money," Daryl spat. "That man shot me. I'm in this. I'm gonna get you where you gotta go." He looked at Merle. "Right? We're both in this with her. Ain't that right?" For a brief second, Daryl could see the debate raging in Merle's head. Cut the losses and take the money or see this through and make sure the girl is safe. Finally, Merle smirked and nodded his head.
"That's right. Way I see it, helpin' you out is only gonna piss Ed Peletier off more. And that's alright in my book." Then something flickered in his eyes, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Gonna go for a little drive. Hate hospitals, you know?" Daryl narrowed his eyes at his brother, and Carol looked back and forth between the two.
"Gonna be gone long?" Daryl asked.
"Nah, just gotta get some shit together," Merle replied. "Won't take long. Thirty minutes, tops."
"Merle." Daryl's voice was low, dark. "Don't do somethin' stupid."
"Relax baby brother," Merle chuckled. He shook his head and looked at Carol. "This one worries too much. Always been the sweet one, my little brother." With a laugh, he shrugged his jacket on and left the room.
Daryl got up from the exam table, and Carol stepped toward him.
"Should you be getting up? You lost a lot of blood."
"M'fine. Wonder what's takin' 'em so long?"
"You know how hospitals are."
"They already patched me up. Just wanna get the hell outta here." Daryl groaned in frustration and sat back down.
"Why are you doing this?" Carol asked quietly after a few moments.
"What?"
"You don't even know me. Why do you want to help me? If it's out of revenge for getting shot, I get it, but you could just drop me off at a bus station and…"
"I ain't gonna do that." He cleared his throat. Carol realized from the look in his eyes and the way his jaw was set that he was through talking about it. So she sat down in the waiting chair and watched him, trying to decide if she should say anything else. She settled on silence.