Howdy! I just wanted to warn you all that I am leaving tomorrow for a week to Florida on vacation. I am hoping to update a few times while I am there, but please understand if I'm slower with it. Read, review and enjoy this chapter. I have so much fun writing this! It's the meat & potatoes so to speak. {{{HUGS}}} Kat
"There goes another one." Beth said, peeking through the curtains. Carol crept over to her and saw the headlights pass by on the road above the mess hall going away from the prison. The beams flickered through the trees. It felt like her heart had been ripped out and she wondered if any of the vehicles passing by carried Daryl and the others.
"It's not safe with them going to and from the prison like they've been. I know it's an hour away but they're using that road as their main route. We're too close." Andrea told her.
"This was where we were supposed to meet them, in case anything happened." Carl piped up. He'd been trying to be brave, but once Carol sat him down and gently explained what had happened, he had been crying on and off for the last hour or two.
"I know." Carol said walking over and sitting beside him. We're all worried about them, but your daddy is a brave, strong man. We need to believe they'll find a way back to us."
"Daryl and Michonne are strong too." He said, nodding as if to reaffirm it to himself. "But my mom. The baby." And the tears began once again.
Carol made slow circles on his back remembering how she'd lost hope after the first few days as they were searching for Sophia. "There is another place we can hide out." Carol told the others. It's back a bit further through the woods than the camp, about a half an hour away."
"The house of horrors?" T-Dog asked. "I don't think so."
"It's smack in the middle of the woods, with no real roads leading in or out." Carol argued. "We could clean it up. Stock our supplies. I'm pretty sure the generator was full when – when Daryl and I left." She choked on the lump in her throat when she said his name. "In the mean time, we need to find out where these people are coming from, a few of us could follow them, but we need to move at first light."
"Carol's right." Carl said. "The quicker we find them - "
"We're gonna listen to the kid now?" Tyreese asked.
Glenn and Maggie held hands, looked at each other as if agreeing on something. "We need to go after them." Maggie said, and the remainder of the group needs to get away from this road."
"Andrea, what do you think?" Carol asked as they joined Beth back at the window.
"I agree. I owe Michonne. And I feel really bad about how I left things with Daryl."
Carol turned toward her furrowing her brow. "What happened with Daryl?"
Andrea stared out between the curtains. "He gave me a good dose of reality and I didn't like it. I just never thought about not having the chance to clear it up."
Carol laid a hand on her shoulder. "You'll get the chance. We're gonna go after them." She wasn't going to drive herself crazy speculating and waiting around like she did with Sophia. She would act, the way Daryl had while looking for her. She turned to the rest of the group. "At first light we'll gather our things. There's a path, it's little more than a goat path, but our truck will make it. We can leave the cars parked behind the old house down there."
Andrea glanced at everyone. "Looks like it's settled."
Hershel stood up. He'd been so quiet since they'd left the farm, helping where he could. "It's settled." Beth gave him a nervous smile and walked over to hug him. "We'll find them Daddy."
Carol crossed her arms and nodded. The next few hours would be hell waiting.
They stopped an hour or so later. Daryl had lost track of time. It was still pitch black. Lori had shifted to where they could get comfortable, her head and shoulders propped against his back. When the hatch was opened eager hands groped inside for the women first. Rick and Daryl were left alone for a few minutes listening to them struggle as they were lead away.
"I just got the zip tie ripped apart." Daryl whispered. He'd been working it on the nail that'd scratched him earlier and felt a distinct pop, then the freedom to move his cramped arms. His knife was gone but they hadn't swiped the one in his boot. Rick moved around to where Daryl could cut him free.
They made it to the edge of the cart looking out seeing two men, one on each side. "We're gonna have to do this real quiet. I got my knife."
Rick whispered back. "I'll be fine."
Daryl nodded, though he was sure it was too dark to see. "On three." Rick whispered, giving him three distinct taps with his fingers.
Rick snapped the first guard's neck and had his gun before Daryl had the chance to stab the other. He caught onto what was happening and elbowed Daryl in the gut, taking the wind out of him. He found himself falling to the same side that the guard was and used the momentum to sink the knife in his temple. He ghosted the crossbow, rotating his shoulder, used to it being right there handy wondering if it was back at the prison or if they'd brought it here. The dead guard's pistol would work for now and the ammo in his shirt pocket was just a bonus.
More guards stood further up, but they'd been so quiet taking out the first two that they were able to slip past them along the side of the building. It turned out to be a newer housing development – cookie cutter houses with tan vinyl siding. A huge wall spanned the community, most likely going all the way around it. Live oak hung over the section they walked along, reminding him of eerie mangled arms reaching for them.
"Wait." Rick said holding him back. "Do you hear that?"
Daryl listened for a minute. He heard them ahead on the next road over a little ways ahead of them. Michonne running her mouth to their captors and Lori crying out in pain, begging them to slow down.
"Keep going, it can't be far." Rick said.
"What's your plan, we sneak in from the back? Likely these places are locked down tight."
"They're taking them to this governor person, no doubt."
Daryl nodded in agreement, keeping an eye out for any that may be advancing on them from behind. Three more houses down, they heard the struggling end and a door slam. It was one of the bigger houses in the development with a huge wooden fence around the back yard. Rick scanned the fence line for a gap to look through, stopping when he found one. "Believe it or not, there's no one guarding the place out back. The place has a dammed swimming pool and jacuzzi."
Here they'd been conserving their resources and this bastard was lording over this sector, living the high life and Christ knew what else. Rick scaled the fence first. Daryl got a bad feeling about it half way up but there wasn't much choice once he rolled over the top and landed on his feet in the yard below.
The pool lights illuminated the aqua water, rippling it in the cold breeze. The jacuzzi was silent and the porch light had attracted what moths and creatures that still braved the colder weather.
"Let's keep to the shadows and check things out around the house for a way in." Rick suggested.
"Ya really think it's gonna be that easy? They ain't gonna open the door and invite us in for cocktails.
"No." Rick spat out, "But what choice do we have? That's my wife and my child in there."
Daryl closed his eyes and took a deep breath. If it were Carol he knew he wouldn't hesitate and Rick would be with him.
"Welcome gentleman." A voice boomed from some kind of surround loud speaker. They hesitated, looking for the source but it was impossible. "You've come for your women, I take it?"
"Bring them out to us." Rick bargained. "We've killed two of your men and we're not leaving without them or a fight."
There came a low chuckle that built into a maddening, almost deafening laugh. "Those men you killed, you will pay dearly for. I traded three days worth of supplies for them. No worries, though they were – expendable. Or better yet. I could replace them – with you."
Daryl wasn't in the mood to play games with the sick bastard. "Bring them out and we'll play nice. Let them go and we'll stay."
Another laugh boomed around them. "Your women are more valuable than you two could ever be. But why don't you come on in where it's warm. We can talk it over."
At the sliding glass door, the curtain pulled back and a team of about fifteen men all dressed in the same blue uniforms they'd seen on the other men earlier filed out into the yard.
Rick and Daryl both drew the guns they'd stolen, though it was clear they were outnumbered. They were advancing on them, when Rick spied Daryl's itchy trigger finger. "Don't fire."
Daryl's breathing kicked up. If he could, he'd admit to himself he was afraid. Not afraid of dying, but never seeing Carol again. Once they'd gotten free of the crate and taken care of the two that were guarding them, he'd had a fleeting moment where he wanted to jump the wall and hike it back to where he knew Carol would be. But he'd come all this way, gone back into the prison after Lori. There was no turning back now, even if it came down to him dying right here.
Suddenly they were unarmed and being pulled into the place the governor called his home. Above them on the second floor he could hear Lori crying and thrashing from another corner of the house, most likely Michonne putting up a fight. He wasn't a fool and knew what was most likely happening.
Rick looked strangely calm – almost insane. That was his wife up there whom he'd been with over a bit over a decade. He couldn't imagine what was goin' through his head.
"Come on boys. It's time for you to do some reflecting. There'll be plenty of play time for you two later on." The man chided from Rick's side.
They were taken around the corner to the basement but not before Daryl spied their weapons – specifically the crossbow, on the other side of the couch in what used to be the living room of the house. An ounce of hope streaked through him. There was his old reliable. If they could escape he'd know right where it was.
Daryl was thrown into a cold room where there used to be a washer and a dryer. A spill of cold water that had been left to evaporate dribbled across the small space of the room. He was shoved in and the door closed and locked. He was surprised when they hadn't thrown zip ties around his wrists again but once he turned on the light he knew why. The door that had once been made of wood was now made of steel, the strong kind. He tried the knife he'd thrown back in his boot and there was no budging it.
It smelled like earth and concrete. He hated basements. This one was a penthouse compared to his Daddy's root cellar with the crates of long-ago rotted vegetables his mama had left there, the endless cobwebs and rotted out floor joists above him, but still it was a basement.
Behind him, he could hear Rick pounding on the wall. They'd left them down there alone, which wasn't good in Daryl's opinion. It meant the governor and his men were busy with the women upstairs. He could hear Rick trying to talk to him but couldn't make out a word he was saying. Resigning to just waiting it out and getting his head together for a moment, he smashed the wall with his fist. "I can't fucking hear you." He screamed.
When he sat down he yanked at his hair and tried to catch his breath. This was bad. This was really bad, but then something poked him in the stomach, something flat and smooth, pushing up against his abs. Carol's journal. He'd forgotten all about it. With all that had happened, he couldn't believe it'd stayed in his waistband.
He pulled it out, staring at the front cover – the Cherokee Roses in the background. How many times in the past two weeks he'd gone into that extra room to find her writing and how many times had he gone in to have her stop and coax him in the room with her voice, knowin' he'd touch her, be with her. Honored that she'd let him.
Normally he would never snoop through what she'd written. That was her business. He'd never set out to grab it for her so he could nose through it, but right now he needed her more than he ever had. He opened the cover and saw her small, loopy handwriting, remembering back to the night they'd played twenty questions and had first seen it.
"Today I received this journal from someone who has become very special to me. I don't think I've had one since I was a little girl. I wish I would've been able to buy things like this for my little Sophia, but I was always afraid Ed would take it from her. He kept strict control over the finances and there was no room for frivolous purchases.
But that isn't what I want to write about. So much has changed. Sophia is in heaven, where I don't have to worry about her safety anymore. I feel a sense of peace with it now and it's not because I met the man who gave me this. It's because I truly believe she, my beautiful Sophia is the one who brought him to me. It's been a challenge to go from what things were like in the beginning for us to where we are now – the odd glances and stares, the sweetness that I noticed in him even before he brought me the Cherokee Rose in a beer bottle. Daryl Dixon is as rough around the edges as they come but he's a survivor and it's him who has inspired the changes I find happening inside myself."
Daryl skipped through to her last entry. It'd been that afternoon.
"I have no desire to be tough and rugged like Andrea or Michonne, though I do envy their skills. I know I'm fairly good with the knives, but I'll never be a sword wielding, gun slinging bad ass. Daryl keeps pushing and pushing for me to keep going and that's what I intend to do. His big fear since he got sick is if anything happened to him that I would give up. I've thought and thought and thought on it, knowing it would nearly kill me if anything did, but I looked back through to what I've written in this journal so far and inside my words and thoughts, I see hope. I see the person I always wanted to be reaching through. I don't want him to have to worry about me anymore. I know it's killing him. I plan on telling him tonight – I thought about it all day. He means that much to me. I would go on without him because I know that is what he'd want. I will fight whatever comes my way until my last dying breath. I only hope he believes me and doesn't think I'm saying it to please him, or that I can muster up the courage to tell him to his face. That'll be hard enough.
This morning's shower couldn't have been more perfect. I think if I'd had a man in my life like him all along I never would've been able to appreciate what I have now. I'm in love with him and have no idea how to tell him without scaring him away. So I 'spose I'll talk to him tonight about the strength I've found first and save the rest for another time. That is if I ever dare spill what's in my heart. That's never been easy. Things with Daryl are always like walking on egg shells, but it's a beautiful thing with him. It is."
Daryl closed the journal and found his face wet. He used to say his eyes were sweating, when Daddy would get pissed about him cryin' like a pussy. But with the solid lump in his chest, he couldn't deny that her words had hit home. He knew even if she weren't okay right now that she'd done him proud. Standing up, he paced for a minute or two trying to figure out just how he felt about everything else, tucking the journal back in his waistband. He was gonna get the fuck out of here and find her.
Hours passed, he thought, though it could've been a shorter time for all he knew when he heard a tumblin' come down the steps and heard Lori's cry from under the door. "Rick - " Her voice sounded tortured.
The sound drew him to the door before he felt his feet hit the ground. "Lori, what the hell's goin' on?" He tried being quiet, having no idea what had happened. There was a distinct sound of a key in the lock and when the door opened, she tumbled inside, blood soaking the front of her shirt. He caught her quickly, her dark hair spilling over his arms.
"What the fuck? What the fuck happened?" His heart jumped into his throat. Lori and he had had their ups and downs but he never wanted anything to happen to her, never.
"The baby's dead Daryl. It turned - inside me." She held up a knife and pointed to where – "I had to do it." She sobbed. It was scratching and clawin' at me. God Daryl, where's Rick?"
"Next room." He told her looking around for something to wrap around her waist. There was a sheet in the corner. He laid her down and ripped it apart binding the wound, feeling the lifeless infant inside her, making sure it was dead, while she winced. "Where the hell did that bastard governor go?"
Her breaths were shallow and then fast. "Meeting. He – hurt - Michonne. She's still upstairs. I killed the three guards that were near the steps – heard them talkin' about where you were."
He lifted her slowly, carrying her much like she was an infant. "Let's go. We'll get you to Rick." Carol didn't know it but she'd given him a good dose of strength and by Christ, he thought looking down how pale Lori was in his arms he'd need it – they all would.