AN: Sorry for the delay. I haven't had much time to write and the story wants to unfold in its own time. What can I say, slow burn is... slow. Please continue to share your reviews! I love hearing what you think. It keeps me going. -jb
Chapter 10: Flush
It was several weeks later when something finally clicked into place for the survivors. There was a constant rhythm to their movement from place to place, combined with a general lack of privacy and the necessary but grueling supply runs, which led to the development of a fundamental, nonverbal communication system among them. They learned to silently read the subtle expressions on each other's faces and to anticipate moods. Because of their constant close proximity, they tried to give each other as much space as possible. They became close because they depended on each other. On runs, they used simple hand gestures and whistles to signal each other while drawing the least amount of attention to themselves. Underneath each gesture, the trust was implicit, forged into solid steel from their experiences fighting side by side.
All of them had mastered basic survival skills. Each could build a hidden fire to conceal the light from wandering walkers and knew different ways to collect rain water. Daryl taught them how to build simple snares to trap animals and they set them whenever they stopped overnight. They went out in rotating teams to scout and scavenge and they kept reunification plans in the event of unexpected separations. But they stuck together, never traveling too far away.
Everyone kept a running mental list of necessities. These were the first items they searched for when they entered a new location. They kept most items stored in airtight plastic containers in the pickup, alongside the mounted motorcycle which Daryl stopped riding during the winter storms. Each of them had a bag packed with their own personal items, small tools, and daily necessities, such as emergency food and water. It was carried with them wherever they went. They started to keep track of the many herds they encountered on a map so they could try to avoid them as much as possible. It was safer to plan a strategic route, rather than travel blindly through hostile territory. They also recorded the places they had scavenged, so they could remember where they'd been.
Their bonds were like any tightly knit family. They ribbed each other, but thanked each other. They argued and disagreed, got on each other's nerves and in each other's faces from time to time, but when things got dangerous, they looked out for each other. They had each other's backs. They had made a pact with each other, that if they got bit or mortally wounded, another would prevent them from coming back as one of those hungry, empty corpses. They tended each other's wounds, the physical and the emotional ones. They endured each other's nightmares without complaint, held on through the tears, and celebrated each victory, however small. The respect they gave one another provided the strength they needed to get through another toiling day.
And still, the stress of their living conditions and daily responsibilities got to all of them at one time or another. They were sleep deprived and sometimes hungry. Everyone participated in night watch and driving shifts, even Carl to some extent and Lori when she was feeling up for it. Lori had given up trying to keep Carl sheltered. It was impossible to have a normal childhood given their adverse conditions and she was too tired to fight anymore. But she quietly worried. Carl had overheard her arguing with Rick one night and learned more about the origins of his future sibling than any child should have to learn. He didn't speak to her for a week. Rick was the one who gave orders, so only his opinion mattered to Carl anymore, it seemed to her.
Yet, Carl needed his mother sometimes, because he was still young and needed her reassurance. She was grateful for these moments, even though they seemed more and more infrequent. He came beaming to her one day, shortly after he'd started talking to her again, and bragged about his first walker kill since he'd put Shane down. He'd been pleased with himself as if he'd gotten the lead part in the school play. And so Lori treated it as if that were the case. She praised him. She praised all his firsts. She was proud of him even if he was becoming a man too soon. He was growing more independent, like a normal teenager in many regards. She saw Rick still trying to parent him, harping on all the teaching points as they arose, and giving Carl more responsibilities when he earned them. She loved him for that. She still loved him even though she knew their marriage had fallen apart.
Lori knew Rick still loved her and that he still worried about her, but he remained estranged. Distant. He rarely spoke to her with any affection. She didn't blame him, she knew what she had done, and she bore the guilt of her part in driving the wedge between Rick and Shane. Rick never touched her or provided her with any physical comfort, although he did his best to see that she was taken care of and as comfortable as possible. He made sure she ate; he often gave her half his share and sometimes he even went without. He said he'd take care of her and the baby, and he was never one to go back on his word.
Rick barricaded himself behind his own guilt about what he had done to Shane, even though he was certain that because of Shane's actions, he had been left with no choice. He would protect his family at any cost. Shane had been his best friend as well as his partner, and he had gotten Lori and Carl safely out of town while Rick was still lying in a coma. Rick felt he owed Shane and planned to do right by the baby, regardless of its biological paternity. Rick had done the math and knew the baby couldn't be his, but he never let on otherwise. The baby was innocent, after all.
Isolated from those she loved, Lori was scared most of the time, feeling more alone than she ever had. It forced her to develop some humility. She worked as hard as Rick would allow her to, mostly cleaning up after everyone. She washed clothes when they could and all their cooking implements. She wasn't the best cook, so she only prepared meals when the others were unavailable to do so. No one really complained about her cooking, they ate whatever was given to them, regardless of how tasteless or disgusting it was. They needed the calories. They were all losing weight except for Lori, but even she was still just bones and a tiny baby bump she wore like a scarlet letter.
As the days went on, she became close to Carol. Carol was the only one who knew what it was like to carry a child. She became her confidant; she was understanding and helped with Carl when he wouldn't mind her. Carol helped to alleviate her fears which were mounting every day. She encouraged her to laugh more and focus on the positive things that were still present in their daily lives. Lori admired her strength. She knew Carol had lost so much, and yet, she still persevered and was generous with her attention and care. Carol often came by at the end of the day to massage her lower back. She tried to find foods that Lori was craving. Sometimes she shared the exciting details about a run she had been on. She would tell Lori stories about the things that she saw that reminded her of the time before. Carol was a comfort. She was a gift.
In return, Lori's pregnancy, while certainly a detriment in their current circumstances, provided a sense of hope to Carol. It made her think about the balance of nature and the struggle for life. Even though life as they knew it had ceased to be, it adapted and continued on. The baby gave her hope for a brighter future and for the survival of mankind.
Winter had arrived bearing teeth. The icy rains and high winds had made travel more precarious. The storms greatly decreased visibility, so they traveled at slower speeds. Daryl rode with T-Dog and Carol in the pickup. They were on the road for several hours every day looking for food and supplies, and it was the only vehicle he could tolerate being in for extended periods of time. Carol thought they made a well-balanced traveling team. T-Dog's cheerful storytelling balanced out Daryl's sullen muteness. There was a good mix of comfortable silence and conversation. But Carol also sensed a growing tension simmering between Daryl and T-Dog. On more than one occasion, she had caught Daryl glowering at T-Dog, but she'd understood Daryl's grumpiness as being related to his lack of solitude, so she never brought attention to it.
Christmas had come and gone without a single acknowledgment. They were too busy surviving to keep track of the holidays. They were meaningless now. Every day was precious and meaningful when the violent threat of extinction was a daily reality.
It was some time in the afternoon, and the winter sky had grown dark and thick with menacing storm clouds. They had been driving since before dawn, after a large herd had descended upon the house they had stayed in the night before. They had almost gotten caught in the small town when two smaller herds joined together at an intersection, forcing them to change course. Carol had taken an early driving shift in the Suburban when they finally stopped at dawn, a couple hours after they escaped. Rick had been on watch for most of the night and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open, and Lori was struggling with nausea and couldn't drive. Carl swapped places with Carol, and joined Daryl and T-Dog in the pickup. He had been happy to spend some time with people other than his parents. It often felt tense, something lay unspoken between the two of them, but nothing Carl ever said or did seemed to make it go away.
Carol felt compassion for Lori as she listened to the poor woman vomit into a series of small brown paper bags all morning.
"I thought I was past all this fun stuff," Lori lamented as she rolled down the window and tossed out her latest accomplishment.
"You poor thing," Carol sympathized. "Have you been able to keep anything down?"
"Not today." Lori took a sip of some flattened ginger ale and rested her head against the window.
The sky suddenly opened up and rain poured from the sky in sheets. Carol could barely make out the taillights of the green pickup traveling ahead of her. She checked the rearview mirror and noticed the headlights of the Hyundai still following behind her. Their convoy slowed considerably for several miles. Eventually, she saw the pickup turn its blinker on so she did the same, following it off the highway and into the parking lot of a truck stop.
She pulled up alongside the passenger side of the pickup while the Hyundai parked along the driver's side. She rolled the window down and saw Daryl sitting in the passenger seat. He lifted his chin to acknowledge her as the rain pelted them.
"This rain's a real drag. Can't see for shit. S'better to stop here an' wait it out. We can probably fill up before we leave, too. Rick awake yet?"
Carol shook her head.
"Everythin' alright?"
She nodded and smiled at him. "We're fine." It warmed her heart that he was being so considerate.
"Okay. We'll send Carl back over while me an' T go in an' check it out. Sit tight."
He rolled up the window and Carol did the same. A few seconds later the back driver's side door popped open and a slightly drenched Carl entered the vehicle, waking Rick with a start.
"What's happening?" Rick panicked, reaching for the gun in his holster.
"Sorry, Dad," Carl apologized sheepishly as he dripped all over his father. He closed the door quickly.
"We're at a truck stop," Lori explained as she peered into the backseat.
"Daryl and T-Dog just went in to clear it and make sure it's safe to stop for the night," Carol added.
When it was deemed safe to enter, Daryl came by and knocked on the window. They grabbed what they needed and made a dash for the entrance. Still, they all arrived inside soaking wet. It turned out to be a small diner with a gift shop attached. A few large black stains on the floor were the only evidence there had been walkers inside when T-Dog and Daryl had entered.
Carol found a mop in a yellow rolling bucket standing in the corner by the restrooms and immediately set to cleaning it up. If they were going to sleep here, it was the least she could do to make it more bearable. She searched around and found some heavy duty cleaning solution and diluted it with rain water. When she went outside to fill the bucket, she saw Daryl standing outside smoking a cigarette as he stood on watch, guarding the entrance. The rolling bucket was awkward to maneuver and it fell over as she tried to get it over the curb. When he saw what she was doing, he helped her lift the bucket over the curb, after it had filled.
"Thanks," she said smiling. Her short hair was plastered to her head and small beads of water had adorned her face, making her glisten in the grey light.
Daryl was momentarily captivated by the way the light danced on her face and stood frozen in place as he observed a single bead of water roll slowly down along the elegant crease of her nose and hesitate at the soft corner of her bottom lip. Warmth radiated from his chest and began spreading down his arms until his calloused fingers twitched with a sudden yearning for softness. He was just about to reach his thumb to her lip, to brush the offending bead away, when the muffled crash of a falling pot somewhere inside the kitchen jolted his attention away, returning him to his senses. His heart raced wildly, like an animal caught in a trap, and he worried. Where's your head at? He realized he was blocking her way. "Sorry," he apologized, stepping to the side as he took a final drag from his cigarette and tossed the butt into the downpour. He held the door for her as she clumsily maneuvered the bucket back inside. A warm flush crept up the back of his neck when she innocently brushed against him as she pushed the wobbly bucket across the threshold. The rippling effect of the contact set his whole body on fire.
"Thank you," she said again as she smiled back at him.
He clenched his jaw to contain the onslaught of sensations awakening in his body, only managing to nod at her once before closing the door behind her. Afterward, he quickly retreated to the edge of the awning, gasping for air. Cupping his hands under the icy stream of cascading water, he splashed it onto his face and neck, numbing his skin. What the hell's wrong with me?
Inside, Carol mopped the tiled floor while Beth wiped down the tables. Glenn and Maggie were setting up the lanterns and a few candles they'd found in the gift shop along the countertop as Rick and T-Dog covered up the windows with old newspapers. Lori sat in a secluded corner, expressing her concerns about her morning sickness to Hershel who was patiently reassuring her. Suddenly, Carl stumbled out of the kitchen, holding a portable CD player like a prize-winning trophy.
"Look what I found!" he said animatedly as he showed the others. Turning to his father, he asked, "Can I play it?"
Rick saw that his son was brimming with excitement, and he did not want to crush the glimmer of hope he saw bursting forth on his face. "Sure, why not," he allowed, smiling. "I think we could all use something to whistle while we work."
Carl set it on one of the tables that Beth had cleaned and pressed play. The female singer was a Latin artist that none of them had heard before, but the rhythm of the music was infectious. Carl stared at the CD player as if it was a magical box and the singer herself had stepped out of it. Soon, everyone was bopping around and swinging their hips as they worked to settle into their new accommodations.
After the floor was mopped, Carol went into the kitchen to figure out a meal. Inspecting the shelves and cabinets, she gathered all the canned food and a large bag of rice. She also found plenty of salt and spices and an unopened container of cooking oil. It was a windfall. Likewise, she was ecstatic when she discovered that the gas stove actually worked and figured it must be hooked up to a propane tank outside. "Finally, a working kitchen!" she exclaimed and cheers erupted from the dining area.
Relishing the luxury of their new accommodations, Carol creatively began to mix together some ingredients for dinner. She even baked some biscuits from a packaged mix. They probably wouldn't be the best tasting since they lacked a few essential ingredients, but the smell of them baking in the oven had everyone drooling.
"I haven't smelled anything so good in months," Lori said cheerfully as she helped Carol serve the meal. "I have a good feeling that I will be able to keep this meal down."
Carol grinned at her. "I hope you do! We could almost get spoiled staying here."
After everyone had been served, Carol made up a plate and a cup of hot cocoa and took it outside to Daryl, who stubbornly refused to come inside.
"Here you go," she said, handing him the steaming plate with a proud smile. It was piled high with beans, rice, vegetables, and a couple of biscuits.
"Smells delicious," he said, expressing his gratitude as he eagerly eyed the plate. His mouth was already watering in anticipation. He took off his gloves and for once, he picked up the fork and used it, a gesture that made Carol smile. Daryl couldn't help but let out a soft groan of appreciation as the tastes from the hot food erupted and tumbled around on his palate.
"Must be fork worthy," she joked about the meal. It was subtle, but she saw a hint of delight softening the rugged features of his face. She thought it made him look handsome, but she didn't comment on it.
"You didn't eat yet?" he mumbled with his mouth full. He wouldn't be surprised if she hadn't. She gave herself the smallest portion and was always the last to eat. He worried that she was too thin.
She shook her head. "I just wanted to make sure you got something hot while you were out here." Feeling a chill, she warmed her hands on the mug as she listened to the cold rain pattering on the slick pavement. She could have set the mug down beside him and gone back inside, but the sound of the rain was peaceful.
Without looking at her, he passed her one of the biscuits and wouldn't allow her to refuse it. "Don't make me eat alone," he grumbled into his plate. He knew she hadn't left enough for herself.
They stood side by side as they ate, staring out into enveloping darkness, while the steady beating of the rain lulled them into a comfortable silence. Daryl savored every bite, not knowing when he'd have another meal as appetizing as this one. While it lacked meat, he thought it was the best dinner he'd had since they left the farm. It certainly had been the most filling. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let out a politely restrained belch. He stood there quietly for a few minutes, letting the food digest, secretly enjoying her company, before he handed her the empty plate and took the mug in exchange. "Go on now," he shooed her gently. "Get somethin' for yourself before those vultures eat it all."
"Aye, aye, Captain," she saluted him and turned with a smile. "Try not to drown out here."
He rolled his eyes at her in response, although he knew she was only teasing. After she went back inside, he drew the mug up to his lips and breathed in the sweet aroma of the cocoa. His eyes shut briefly as he lingered in the scent, and he saw Carol's smiling blue eyes sparkling at him in the darkness. When he finally took a sugary sip, it was delicious, but he didn't need the cocoa to keep him warm.
Carol scraped the meager remains of the meal onto her plate and joined the others in the dining area. Lori lifted her mug of hot cocoa to Carol as she sat down next to her.
"Compliments to the chef," she toasted.
"Hear, hear," Hershel echoed the sentiment from across the table.
Soon others were calling out their compliments and expressions of gratitude. Carol smiled gracefully at the outpouring of their loving appreciation. She felt it warming her cold, aching bones. "It's amazing what a few spices can do to add flavor."
After the dishes were done, the CD player was turned on again. Glenn grabbed Maggie and started dancing with her. He wasn't a very good dancer, but he tried really hard and Maggie didn't seem to mind.
T-Dog walked over to Carol and extended his hand. "C'mon, we can't let them be the only ones out there."
"I don't know," Carol hesitated. "I've got two left feet."
"You can't be any worse than Glenn," he assured her.
"Well, when you put it that way," she relented and took T-Dog's hand. Before long he had her spinning around and forgetting her flaws.
After a while, Beth approached Carl, who had been gleefully watching the couples dance and act silly.
"Do you wanna dance?" she inquired shyly.
Carl blushed. "I don't know how."
"It's okay. I'll teach you," she replied, smiling as she extended her hand.
"Alright." He didn't need much prompting to take her hand.
Rick watched his son's first dance lesson and laughed lightly as he saw Carl stumble and step on Beth's toes. Beth was gracious and good-natured about it. As Rick smiled, he looked over at Lori who smiled back at him as they shared this awkward moment in Carl's social life. For a moment, they were simply proud parents watching their son learn how to dance and flirt with an older girl. Then, something bleakly fell across Rick's face, and his smile faded. He looked away, seeking comfort solely in his son's experience.
Hershel saw the exchange between Lori and Rick, and the resulting heartbroken look that appeared on Lori's face as Rick distanced himself from her. He knew the couple had undergone a tremendous amount of stress and that their marriage had been troubled for a long time. One night as they shared watch together, Rick had confided in him about what had transpired between them, and confessed that he didn't think he could find forgiveness for the wrongs he felt were done to him. Hershel, who had seen more years than the former deputy, was certain that he saw the love which still existed between them. He had told Rick he was old-fashioned, and he was of the belief that marriage was truly for better or worse, but that it sometimes took a little more effort to get through the worst of times. In his opinion, Rick seemed to be avoiding the problem rather than trying to work through it. He counseled Rick often, but he tried not to meddle in his personal affairs. This time, however, he felt the need to step in and do something.
"Madam," he said to Lori, offering his hand, "would you do me the honor of having this dance with me?"
"Certainly," she replied, accepting his hand with a smile.
As they danced across the diner, Lori tried not to look at Rick. "Thank you for coming to my rescue," she conveyed her gratitude to Hershel.
"He'll come around," Hershel promised. "It's obvious he still loves you. He just needs to work it out in his own time."
"That's what Carol's been telling me. And I'm trying to be patient. I am. But I'm just worried about the baby."
"That's exactly why you shouldn't stress about it. It's not good for the baby. Rick will do whatever he can to keep you, Carl, and the baby safe. You know that. I've seen it."
"You're right, you're right. I just don't know how to be patient."
Hershel smiled. "Think of it more as a practice than a state of being," he recommended lightheartedly as he twirled her around.
Rick watched Hershel spin his wife around as they danced. He felt guilty that he was still harboring a resentment against her. Hershel had spoken to him about the importance of forgiveness in the covenant of marriage, but she had done things, they had both done things that were unforgivable. How did they come back from that? Besides, it wasn't just Lori and Carl now; Rick was responsible for the entire group. He was their leader. He couldn't let his personal problems get in the way and cloud his judgment. People were depending on him and their lives were at stake.
He watched the group enjoying themselves and never felt more alone. Rick cared about them all, but worried about getting too close to them; he didn't want it to cloud his judgment. It was important to keep his distance so that he could lead them effectively, make the tough decisions that were sometimes required. He couldn't let his feelings for Lori get in the way of the safety of the group. Not after what happened with Shane. Until they found a safe place, he just couldn't open that door.
He needed time to clear his head, so he left the group to their festivities and went outside to relieve Daryl from watch. Night had fallen, and the rainstorm continued to rage unrelentingly.
"Why don't you go on inside and get warm," Rick told him. "I'll keep watch."
"I'm good," Daryl insisted, reluctant to go inside. The thought of it churned in his gut. It was bitter cold, but he preferred the outdoors. It felt too small inside with so many people crowded into the space. He was content to know the people he cared about were safe. The rainfall was soothing and it helped him to forget his worries. But more importantly, it provided a safe distance from the disturbing attraction he had to Carol and a refuge from the crippling fears which came along with it.
Rick simply nodded at Daryl and let it go. He was beginning to understand the man's need for solitude, so he didn't argue. The two men stood there in silent vigilance, guarding against their deepest fears, as the dark, freezing rain drowned their unbidden desires.