Chapter 4

Carol woke to a growling stomach and to the steady drip drip drip of water trickling off of a tree and onto the porch roof. She yawned, stretching where she lay before sitting and taking a look around the place.

It was so still and seemed so big. It had seemed big, even with everybody at the farm, but now? Now it seemed like a fortress, a place with too many halls and rooms and places to fill with silence. She stood up, moving to peer outside, seeing the way the tree branches shook in the wind, how the puddles of water rippled. The storm had passed, and the sun was filtering through the clouds, making the wet leaves shimmer.

She grabbed her pack, hoisting it into her lap. She rummaged through it, grabbing a pack of crackers and opening them. They were pretty stale, but at least she could eat them without feeling like she was going to throw up. Besides, she didn't have much, so she was going to have to ration.

With a frown, she walked outside and squinted into haze. The humidity made the air stick, and she felt damp all over. Shivering, she stepped off of the porch and down onto the porch, deciding to take a look around the property.

Some of the tents were still there, off away from the house. She could spot Rick and Lori's tent and even her own, though wind and time had taken a toll on them. The frames were bent, and the fabric was torn.

She stepped over, turning over chairs and finding clothes, wet and dirty from weather, but not completely in tatters. She began to gather them, finding what she could. She found her old suitcase, filled with clothes she'd gathered on the highway the day Sophia had disappeared. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she found something else. She picked it up, running her fingers over the dirty, empty box. She knew what had been in them. Pills. Pills to end pregnancy. Lori had told her about them, about how she'd swallowed them and thrown them up, and how she wasn't certain throwing them up had been the best option, because her baby would spend its whole life fighting and being scared.

Carol sighed softly, tearing off a piece of the box with the name of the drug. She hadn't made her decision, but it was just as valid a choice as anything else, and perhaps it might be the best choice.

She stuffed the bit of cardboard into her pocket and moved to pick through what else she could salvage. When she was finished, she made her way back to the house, eyes focused on the burnt out shell of an RV, remembering the nights she'd spent crying herself to sleep after Sophia had disappeared. That woman seemed like a stranger now, like someone from a different life.

She remembered spending hours cleaning and rearranging things, trying to keep her mind off of everything, convincing herself that Sophia was ok, that she'd be home soon, that she'd be a little cold, hungry and dirty, but she'd be ok, and everything could be the way it was. She remembered Daryl bringing her that flower in a beer bottle, a Cherokee rose. He'd had such hope, such confidence that Sophia was alive, that she'd be found. He'd been the one constant keeping her head up during that whole ordeal. She'd been so terrified, and he'd never lost hope that Sophia would be found. He'd nearly died in the process of looking for her, but he hadn't given up. Daryl had truly been her savior during those dark times.

Her heart ached at the memories, and she turned away from the old RV, looking off toward the field the herd had come from. Maybe the fences could be mended. Maybe this farm could be what it once was, a safe haven.

She didn't know how long she'd stay, but it was a possibility. She couldn't dwell on the past, she knew that. She had her life to think about. She had this pregnancy to think about. But this was, for now, a good distraction. It was something to keep her mind off of the choices she had to make.

As she made her way around the back of the house, she spotted the old shed where Hershel stored some of his smaller equipment. An ax was propped up against it, and she made quick work of breaking the lock with it and opening the shed to rummage around inside. She found a small game trap, perfect for rabbits. Daryl had taught her how to set one over the winter, but the trap had been much less fancy than this contraption, which looked far easier to work. She made a mental note to set it up later, maybe even take it with her when she left the farm for good.

The breeze took a cool turn, and Carol shivered, heading back up the porch, hauling the items she'd gathered from the old tents. She deposited everything on the couch and started for the door to lock up. A nervous twitter in her heart had her feeling unsettled. She peered out the screen door toward the path that led down to the highway. She could almost hear the sound of a motor revving, and the spat-spat-spat of dirt flying up from under the wheels of Daryl's motorcycle. She stood there a few moments longer, curling her arms around her middle, peering off down the road so long that her eyes began to play tricks on her. She blinked a few times, shuddering as the silence fell around her again, and she shut the door, closing out the sunlight.

...

Daryl leaned over the guardrails, staring down into the ravine. He took one last long drag on his cigarette before flicking it over the edge, watching the smoke curl up out of the blackness as it hit somewhere down below.

He could still see Carol slumping, shoulders shaking when Rick came back without Sophia, the full realization that her little girl was lost out there hitting her right through the heart.

He breathed the last stream of smoke out through his nose, clearing his throat and peering around. She wouldn't be here. This place was simply a reminder that her daughter had been so close to her, but had still slipped away, never to be seen alive again. No, she'd go back to a place where she hadn't properly grieved. She'd accepted that her daughter was missing. It had been Sophia's death and funeral she'd had the hardest time with. He knew she'd accepted that Sophia was dead, but properly grieving her was something else altogether.

He pushed off of the guardrail, heading back to his motorcycle. He stuffed his hand into one of his pockets, pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. Lighting it, he took another long drag, fingers twitching slightly as he got a game plan in mind. He knew where he was going, he was about seventy percent certain she would be there, but it was the state she'd be in that he was worried about. Rick had sent her off after saying God knows what to her, so would she be upset? Would she be closed off? Would she just be Carol? It was hard to say. She'd changed so much in some ways, but there were other things about her that hadn't. She was a good person, always putting the good of the group before everything else, always caring about everybody else, thinking three steps ahead, trying to keep herself sane. In this world, if anybody slowed down long enough to truly think about how fucked the world had become, they could all easily spiral into insanity.

He took off, weaving through the graveyard of cars, the stink of moss and rotting flesh slapping him in the face as he passed cars with blood spattered windows and bodies slumped over steering wheels. He carefully navigated through the silent traffic snarl before finding that old lead off from the highway he'd traveled so many times before. Greene farm, up ahead.

...

She'd thought she'd been hearing things, pushing off from the bed she'd lay down on and moving to look out the window. She couldn't get a good look at the driveway, but she could definitely hear something. Feet on gravel. Someone was there, and that someone had come in on a very loud motorcycle.

Her breath caught in her chest, and she chewed her lip nervously for a moment, moving from the window and out into the hall, peeking out a window that overlooked the porch. And there it was. Daryl's chopper.

Her heart skipped a beat and then began to flutter anxiously in her chest. So many things to say to him, so many things she needed from him, and all she could think about was getting her arms around him and holding him and making sure he was really, truly there.

She took the stairs quickly and carefully, a nervous, tense bundle of nerves coiling tight in her stomach as she thought about everything that had happened and everything that was going to happen, but none of it mattered in that moment.

Tears flooded her eyes, and she set her sights on the front door. She held her breath then, reaching for the door knob as the screen door creaked open. She paused briefly, a wave of emotion pulsing through her, making her head swim. But then she felt the knob jostle beneath her fingertips, and she quickly unlocked it, pulling the door open. His eyes were on hers then, and she let out a heavy sigh, slumping slightly in the doorway.

"Jesus," he murmured, reaching out, hand gently skimming along her arm. And then he pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her middle and hugging her tight, as her arms moved around his shoulders. She clung to him then, breathing him in, letting out a choked sob as she felt his chest tremble against hers. He felt good, and it felt good to hold him, and all she could think about was how she wasn't alone. He was here, and she wasn't alone.