Chapter 3

Sunrise brought a little bit of peace to Carol's mind. She could see better, and she had barely passed a half a dozen cars all night. She'd stuck to the back roads, veering off to the east instead of the north. She figured that if she avoided Atlanta, she could hide out for a while, until the danger was over, and then she could find Lori again. That was the hope. That's what she had to hold onto.

Sophia began to fuss around seven, and she pulled over to make her a bottle and eat a granola bar for herself. By the time Sophia was changed into a fresh diaper and strapped safely back into her car seat, Carol was itching to get back out on the road. She kept east, kept moving, kept clear of the busy highways and the Interstates, all the while feeling her heart pounding in her ears as she tried to swallow back the fear and keep it at bay.

By eight, Sophia was wailing in the back seat, and when Carol checked her, she found her to be a bit warm.

The first thought that crossed her mind was that Sophia was sick, that Sophia was like the others, and for a moment, fear paralyzed her. But then she remembered Sophia had been drooling a lot lately and had been fussy. It was then, when she took a moment to breathe, that she realized her baby was probably starting to teeth.

So she gently stuck her finger in the baby's mouth, feeling along her gums, and sure enough, she felt the top of a little tooth poking through on the bottom.

"Oh, Soph. Oh, sweetheart, I know. I know it hurts. Mommy's gonna find something to make you feel better, ok?" Carol quickly got out and checked the diaper bag, praying she hadn't forgotten it in her rush to pack up and run with Sophia. Sure enough, the infant pain relief drops were nowhere to be found. "Shit. Shit." She sighed and slapped her hand against the top of the car. "Ok. It's ok. We're gonna find something. Just be patient with mommy, ok? Here…" Carol grabbed a pacifier and put it in Sophia's mouth. "There. That's good for now? Hmm? Yeah. Mommy's good girl." Carol felt her heart ache as the baby's face grew redder and she fussed a little louder. But soon, she accepted the pacifier and strained to bite it for relief, and Carol hopped back behind the wheel. "Don't worry, Sophia. Mommy's gonna find something. I promise."

...

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

"Mama?"

"Count to a hundred, baby," a voice whispered from the bedroom. "Cover your ears and count to a hundred." Bang. "Stop! Will! Stop it!"

"Bitch, you don't tell me what to do!"

"Mama!"

"It's ok, baby. It's ok. Cover your ears and count to a hundred!"

Daryl Dixon closed his eyes tightly as he sat in the cramped closet with his hands over his ears. His lungs stung with each quick breath, and his eyes burned with tears. His face was hot, and his hands did little to muffle the sounds.

"One. Two. Three." Bang. "Mama!"

"Will, look at me! Look at me. Just calm down. He's just a boy. He didn't mean it."

"Them damned boys are gonna learn some goddamned respect."

"Will, leave him alone! You wanna break his other arm? You wanna put him in the hospital again?" Bang.

"Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one." The closet door shook as something fell hard against it. Daryl pulled his arms around his legs, hugging his knees to his chest. He hid his face against his knees, curling up against the wall.

"Stop it, Will! Oh God, please, stop!" She was screaming now. It always came down to it. Her screaming. Him yelling. Swearing. Always putting his hands on her. "Stop!"

"Thirty-five. Thirty-six. Thirty-seven." Fist against flesh had a distinct sound. It was a wet, heavy smacking sound that made Daryl's skin burn in memory of the beatings he'd taken. Last week, he'd gotten the belt, and his mama had had to dress his back with gauze to stop the bleeding.

He brought his hands to his ears again as the closet door rattled some more. He could hear his father grunting, his mother crying and struggling, the sounds of someone being dragged across the carpet.

"Stop! Will, no!"

Fifty-five. Fifty-six. Fifty-seven. Thud.

"Mama?" he panted, standing up and bringing his hand to the doorknob. He turned it, only to feel something stop it from turning further.

"Keep counting, baby," his mother wheezed. Thud.

"He can't hide behind his mama forever," Will panted. Another hard smack.

Sixty-four. Sixty-five. Sixty-six.

"Mama?"

"Merle, go to your room!" she called.

"Get off her! Leave her alone!" Merle hollered.

"You want some, too, ya little bastard?" Daryl buried his face in his hands when he heard his mother scream and Merle cry out in pain. "You gonna learn today, boy. You raise yer voice to me, you raise yer hand, you're gonna be in a world of pain. You look at me when I'm talkin' to you. You hear me?!"

"Will, leave him alone. You're gonna kill him!"

"Bitch, you want me to black the other eye?!"

Thud.

Daryl pulled himself deeper into the closet, putting clothes and boxes and shoes between himself and the door, finding one of his mother's sweaters, the one she wore last Christmas Eve when she'd held him in her lap and read The Night Before Christmas. He pulled it into his lap, wrapped himself in it, closed his eyes, covered his ears. And he kept on counting.

Ninety-seven. Thud. Ninety-eight. Thud. Ninety-nine. Thud.

...

One-hundred.

Thud. Bang.

Daryl woke with a start, groaning as the morning light broke through the treetops and shone right into his eyes.

Thud. He held his breath, listening to the sound of something, no, someone, rummaging through the front of his truck. He turned slowly to his stomach, peering up to see someone wearing a hooded jacket rifling through the front seat of his car. He reached for his crossbow, clenching his jaw as he slid out of the back of the truck and came around the side, quickly noticing the Jeep Cherokee several feet with its blinkers on.

"Hands up, asshole." The figure froze, and he watched their shoulders hitch with a gasp. "Turn around and show your face, and maybe ya won't get an arrow in the ass." He watched the figure bring their hands up, raising them up over their head. "Said turn around!" The figure startled but slowly turned, and Daryl took a step back, crossbow poised in one hand as the figure faced him. The first thing he noticed was the piercing blue eyes that stared widely back at him from above a white surgical mask. The next thing he noticed were the dark auburn curls that spilled out the second she took her hood down.

"The hell you think you're doin'?" he asked, keeping his crossbow poised. "You sick?"

"Please," she whispered. "I just…I just needed…I was looking for…"

"Don't know what you think you need. Looks like you got plenty of shit packed away in that Jeep of yours."

"I didn't realize anyone was here. I just thought it was abandoned."

"Yeah, well, ya thought wrong." His voice was low. Dark. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Please. Don't hurt me. I just…I made a mistake." He could see the fear in her eyes, sense it in the quiver of her voice. He'd never once had someone look at him with that kind of fear before. In fact, he'd spent most of his life being the asshole baby brother of Merle Dixon, but he'd never even so much as raised his voice to a woman. The last thing he'd ever wanted to do was follow in his father's footsteps, and now here he was holding a weapon to a woman who looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "Just let me go. Nobody has to get hurt."

"Get outta here," he growled, lowering his weapon. "Next time check 'fore you start snoopin' through shit that ain't yours." Carol stood there, frozen, and Daryl realized she was looking past him, looking back toward her car. "What're you waitin' on, lady? Get the hell outta here." Carol swallowed hard, and in a moment, she was starting off toward her car, hopping inside and peeling out onto the road, spraying up gravel in the wake of her tires.

Daryl quickly got into the truck, looking for any sign of what might've been stolen. Everything had been rummaged through, but nothing seemed to be missing. What she seemed to focus on most was the bag filled with medicines and painkillers. He'd have thought her to be a junkie, but she hadn't taken off with any of the goods. She seemed to be searching for something, and he didn't know if he should be more pissed about someone going through his shit or the fact that he'd damn near slept through it.

He got everything back in order, shut the door and walked over to take a piss behind a bush. Within minutes, he was on the road again, heading the same direction she'd gone in. He wasn't looking for her. Didn't want to find her. He wanted to be left alone.

But, damn it if he didn't spot that Jeep Cherokee about an hour later, pulled over on the side of the road with the lights blinking again.

"What the hell?" he muttered under his breath. He was going to keep on driving. He really was. He was going to keep going and leave the little thief in the dust. But then he saw her sitting on the guard rail with a squirming, crying infant in her arms, looking utterly defeated, and when their eyes met, he saw the fear spark in hers again. Shit. Just keep goin'. Not yer damn problem.

He slowed to a stop. Stupid. Gonna get yerself killed, you know that? He sat there for a moment, watching as her eyes flickered over toward the Jeep, like she was looking for something that was too far from her reach. The baby began to wail a little louder, and she turned her attention back to the infant, gazing up at him again moments later, more out of desperation than fear.

He stepped out of the truck and moved around to the side.

"Please don't," Carol choked out.

"Don't know what it is you think I'm gonna do, but you got the wrong idea, lady. You're the one that was tryin' to take my shit. I'm just a stranger stoppin' to help."

"Just go," she pleaded. "We're fine."

"Don't look fine." The baby cried louder, and Carol hoisted her up, patting her back as the baby wailed against her shoulder. Carol's shoulders slumped, and she sighed, biting her trembling lower lip, trying not to show her fear. Here was this guy, standing there with his hands stuffed in his pockets, looking somewhere between annoyed and concerned, and all she could think about was her fastest escape route. Tears stung her eyes, and she took a shuddering breath.

"I wasn't trying to steal your shit," she muttered. "I was stopping every few minutes, searching abandoned cars. My baby's teething. She's running a low grade fever. All I needed was something she could take."

"I ain't got none of that," he offered.

"Yeah, well, I realized that right before you came up behind me." She frowned. "Don't worry. I found some a few miles down the road."

"Then why's she cryin'?"

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe she's just as pissed off as I am," Carol suggested. A fire flashed in her eyes that he hadn't expected. "She's just tired of the car seat." Daryl glanced over at the Jeep, noticing the way the front passenger's side dipped a little low.

"You got a flat."

"Well, maybe she's pissed off about that, too." Daryl smirked. God help him, he liked this woman, even if she was full of piss and vinegar. Well, catching someone looting your shit and holding a weapon on them didn't exactly make for a good first impression either, he supposed.

"You got a spare?"

"Don't worry about it," she replied, holding the baby closer. "I'll take care of it."

"You know how to change it?" he asked.

"Of course," she lied. She'd asked Ed to show her numerous times, but he'd always just brushed her off and told her it was man's work and that they'd be on the roadside for an hour if she tried it herself.

He eyed her. He could up and leave and not look back. She wasn't his problem. This kid certainly wasn't either. But, she looked like she was at her breaking point, and the kid was hollering up a storm.

"You sick?" he asked. "That why you're wearing that mask?"

"What?" she asked. "No, I'm not sick. But for all I know, you could be. Anybody I come across could be."

"Well, I ain't sick," he offered. "Now, are you gonna let me change that tire for ya, or are good deeds dead like most of the rest of the world?" Carol eyed him for a moment, sizing him up, noting his broad shoulders and his muscular arms, how tense he was but how something in his eyes told her he wasn't dangerous. Still, she didn't exactly trust her own judgment since Ed. But, she did need her tire changed, and she certainly wasn't going to hand Sophia off to a stranger.

"There's another tire in the back."

"A donut?"

"No, a new tire. If you're going to fix something, fix it right the first time. A donut's like putting a bandage over a bullet wound anyway." Daryl snorted at that, and she wasn't sure if he was laughing or not. But, he dug the tire out of the back of the Jeep, grabbed the jack and got to work.

Carol kept her distance, walking back and forth with the baby until she had quieted herself to sleep. By the time Daryl got up, brushing his hands on his legs before double checking the tightness of the lug nuts, Carol was already strapping the baby into the car seat on the other side of the vehicle. She peered at Daryl through the open door for a moment, before she closed it up and moved around to the side, hands stuffed in her pockets to hide the fact that they were trembling anxiously.

"Thank you," she said softly. "It isn't everybody who would stop to help someone who just tried to rob them."

"Well, it ain't like you took anything," Daryl muttered. "You was just lookin' out for your kid. I get it." He cleared his throat. "You're good to go."

"Well, again…thank you," she said quietly. "Have you…have you seen it out there?"

"Some. Seen it close up with my brother. He shot himself yesterday."

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I'll give you the same advice someone gave me. Stay away from the cities. These roads are the best. Not many people." She moved to get into the driver's seat. "You probably saved both of our lives today." She nodded toward the baby in the back seat. "So take my advice and save yourself. Stay away from people. It's people that'll kill you. Nothing new there, right?" Daryl narrowed his eyes at her a little. "Thank you for your help." She chuckled. "I don't even know your name."

"Daryl," he muttered.

"Daryl," she said softly. "Thank you, Daryl. I'm Carol. Stay safe." With one last lingering look and a thankful nod, she drove off, leaving him in the dust once again.