AN: Here we go, another chapter.
I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111
The heat of the Georgia summer was starting to fade away a little. It was promising to be a nice fall and maybe a particularly cold winter. It was warm outside, but it wasn't hot. It wasn't the kind of stifling heat that sometimes they could expect from summer—the kind of heat where Daryl usually felt like he was actually melting and turning into a soggy puddle of himself. It wasn't hot. Not like that. But, still, Daryl felt like he couldn't breathe in the truck. He cranked the window down, cracking it just enough that the wind blew in, and hoped it would somehow help him breathe better.
Carol, too, must have felt the stifling heat, because she cranked down her own window to match his.
"Sorry," Daryl said. "Air conditioner's been broke since I got the truck."
"It's fine," Carol said quietly.
Daryl looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He was on the main road headed out of town. A couple of miles and he'd hit the highway that connected Lennon to anywhere worth going. When he reached the highway, he'd have to make a decision. Left toward the county line, or right toward Atlanta? Either direction would take her out of Lennon.
Carol hadn't said anything. She hadn't given him any sign of whether or not she knew him. She hadn't given him any sign of whether or not she wanted to know him. She was just riding in the truck, looking a little like a caged animal that didn't know whether to roll over in hope for mercy or attack in hope of saving itself.
And Daryl didn't know what to say, either. He soothed himself by gnawing at his thumbnail while his elbow rested on the window of the truck.
A million times he'd thought of a dozen different scenarios where he was in the same room with her. He'd thought of everything he'd say to her. He thought of everything he'd ask her. Each time he imagined it, things went a little differently. Sometimes they went well and other times they went terribly. One thing, though, that all of his imaginings had in common was that he was always prepared with something to say. He always had so much to say.
Now, sitting beside her in the truck cab, Daryl found that he had nothing to say. Or, even if it was there, he couldn't manage to get it to come out of his mouth.
"Where are we going?" Carol asked finally, surprising Daryl when she broke the silence that hung as heavy around them as the heat that seemed to have pooled inside the truck.
"Your call," Daryl said.
"I appreciate you doing this," Carol said. "But—I just need to go somewhere for a couple of nights. Just until the car's done. Then...I can decide. I can figure it out."
Daryl sighed. He decided to let the situation that was amplifying the heat for him lie. Carol didn't need to deal with the sins of her past. She needed to guarantee that she was going to live to see her future. She had things on her mind, right now, that would naturally have a way of overtaking her ability to think of anything else.
"You gotta forget about the damn car," Daryl said.
"I can't," Carol said.
"Well, you ain't got no choice," Daryl said. "Day you drove that shit into a concrete barricade was the last damn day that car could do anything for you. If you're serious about gettin' away from him..."
Daryl let it drop. It didn't hang in the air too long, though, before Carol picked it up.
"I am," she said. "I am serious," she repeated. "How'd you know that I drove into the barricade?"
"You hit the front end," Daryl said. "Didn't side swipe it like anybody would on accident. Had to be headed straight for it. You tried to hit it."
"I chickened out," Carol said.
Daryl's stomach lurched and he swallowed back the sensation that rose up in his throat.
"You drove into it," Daryl said. "You hit it sure enough." Carol didn't say anything to him. He supposed he understood her silence every bit as good as he understood her words. He was raising a kid. He knew that silence was every bit, if not more, incriminating than words could ever be. "You mean that'cha meant to hit it harder?"
"I didn't hit it harder," Carol said. "And it doesn't matter. I still need the car. It's all I have."
"Well, now you don't got it," Daryl said. "Listen—you head outta town in a car with his name on it? He'll call the cops. No matter if he reports you—missin' or crazy or...says you stole the car? They're gonna get you and they're gonna haul you in. Then you can plead your case, but..."
"But somehow, I'll be right back where I started," Carol said, finishing where Daryl left off when he fell silent. Daryl hummed at her. "I know," Carol said. "I know. I'll just—end up right back where I started. Only this time, it'll be worse because he'll be pissed. I stole the car and then I left. By now? He's probably called home three or four times. He's starting to—he'll be realizing that I'm not at the store. I'm not—I'm not just out somewhere."
Daryl felt like there wasn't any saliva left in his mouth. His throat was dry. His lips felt suddenly more chapped than they had been before. He ran his tongue over them, finding his tongue to be far less damp than it usually was.
She wasn't the only one who knew. He knew too. He knew all too well what people could be like. People like her husband.
When he saw the light up ahead, Daryl flicked on his turn signal. He found some strange sense of calm in the repetitive ticking of the indicator. He slowed the truck, waited for the black Honda in front of him to make a decision—one that they made without the use of their own indicator—and then he turned the truck.
Carol shifted around in the seat next to him.
"You can just—take me to a motel somewhere," Carol said. "I can stay there for a couple of nights."
"On money you don't got," Daryl said. "No more protected than if you was camping out in your backyard in a tent. We could call the police."
"Get a restraining order," Carol offered. "The strongest piece of paper in the world. Virtually indestructible."
Daryl's chest caught at the sarcasm dripping from her words. He knew about restraining orders too. He knew plenty about them. He'd known more than a couple of people who'd had them and declared that they were really nothing more than government issued toilet paper. Somehow, it seemed, they did nothing of what they were supposed to do.
Restraining orders only worked if the person they were taken out against feared the police enough not to take their chances.
"Fuck," Daryl muttered. He hit the gas to move the truck along a little faster, not that they really had a given time to be anywhere, and then he slowed it when he reached a little side road that he knew. Turning down it a little quicker than he should have, Daryl leaned into the turn and Carol somewhat toppled in his direction. She righted herself quickly and without saying a word about his driving. How he got there didn't concern her half as much as where he was going at the moment.
"Where are we going?" She asked, clearly growing a little concerned.
"My house," Daryl said.
"What?" Carol asked.
"My house," Daryl repeated. "We're going to my house. We gotta have some kinda plan. We gotta know what we're doing. Right now? If I just take you somewhere and drop you off? There's no tellin' what's gonna happen to you. No tellin' how long it takes him to find you or what he does when he does find you. And without a plan beyond just droppin' you somewhere with no money? He's gonna find you."
"I don't want to go to your house," Carol said.
"You got some better idea?" Daryl asked.
"Take me to a motel," Carol said. "That's where I'm going to end up anyway. Whether we decide now or later, that's where I'm going to end up. Take me to a motel. I'll use a fake name."
"I'm guessin' that's worked out good for you before?" Daryl asked. Carol was quiet. She didn't respond. She didn't have to respond. "Yeah," Daryl mused. "I know the drill. We're goin' to my house. We'll figure it out. I just—gotta make a phone call when we get there."
"To—your brother?" Carol asked.
Daryl hummed.
"Or his wife," Daryl said.
Carol nodded her head.
"What are they going to say? About you taking me back to your house?" Carol asked.
"I'm not gonna know until I call 'em," Daryl responded. He didn't offer to guess what either of them might say about him taking a woman back to his house whose husband might be dangerous and might be looking for her. In fact, he tried not to think about what they were likely to say since he wasn't sure how to respond to them just yet—he hadn't even figured out how to respond to the voice in his own head that was screaming at him about what he'd decided to do at the moment.
"Do they know about me?" Carol asked.
"Well, you know Merle does," Daryl said. "My brother. Since that was him at the shop. And—I'ma guess that Andrea does by now. Merle don't usually keep too much secret from her." He glanced at his watch to check the time. "And—it's about time they're gonna start callin' each other."
"School's letting out soon," Carol said softly.
"Yeah," Daryl said. He got the word out before he even thought about what she'd said. His breath caught, but he reminded himself that it was just common knowledge that school would be letting out soon. Anyone might know that.
"Does she know about me?" Carol asked quietly.
Daryl swallowed. It stuck in his throat.
"Andrea?" He asked. "My sister-in-law?"
"No," Carol said.
Daryl's heart picked up its pace until it was thundering in his chest almost as quickly as it had been in the parking lot when he'd first laid eyes on her and realized who she was—that she was real. His whole body suddenly felt jittery.
"You know who I am?" Daryl asked.
"Of course I know who you are, Daryl," Carol said. She didn't offer to elaborate any farther.
"You didn't say nothin'," Daryl said.
"Neither did you," Carol responded.
"I didn't know if you—if you might not want to talk about it," Daryl said. "If you might not want to say nothin' to Merle."
"Me either," Carol said.
Daryl took his eyes off the almost empty road for a split second to look at her. She was sitting rigidly in the seat, staring straight ahead, like she was terrified to take her eyes off the road. She looked more like she was riding on a rollercoaster than in a relatively smooth riding truck. If she'd had anything to hold onto, Daryl was almost certain she'd be white-knuckling it.
"You remember her, then?" Daryl asked.
"There are some things that you never forget," Carol said. She laughed to herself. "No matter—how many concussions or how much time? You never forget." She sucked in a breath and Daryl wished that he could draw oxygen from it since he didn't feel like he was managing to get enough in himself. His lungs weren't filtering it like they should. "Does she know about me?" Carol asked again. This time Daryl couldn't pretend that he didn't know who she was asking about.
"Of course," Daryl said. "She knows some. She knows—enough, I reckon."
Carol looked at him, then. He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced back at her.
"Enough for me to just be at your house?" Carol asked.
Daryl's stomach clenched.
"I'll—call Andrea and Merle when we get there," Daryl said. "Merle'll pick her up from school. She'd be happy to stay with them for a little while."
"And then what?" Carol asked. "You'll take me to a motel? Daryl—I don't want to disrupt her life. I've never wanted to—ruin her life."
Daryl shook his head.
"I don't know," Daryl admitted. He didn't know what he was doing. Even as he drove the truck toward his home, Daryl had no idea what he was doing. For just a moment, he could almost believe in possession. His body and his mind, for the time being, felt like they were functioning separately from one another. "I just don't know," he repeated. "We'll figure something out."
