The Trucker Chapter 1, a walking dead fanfic

A/N Thanks for dropping by! I hope you enjoy the story :)

It's her first day working at the mill and it's just an hour or so before the end of her shift. That's when the big black 18 wheeler rolls in the log yard and the butterflies in her tummy take flight.

"Dixon One" is painted on the truck door and the driver is looking every bit the tough logger who's just come in from the woods. Around the mill a rough look is not unexpected. For gosh sake, it's not like she's working with accountants or something. These men are out in the forest all day. Although, she is thinking it wouldn't really matter much what Dixon One does for a living, he'd be hot in any profession.

His hair is a little too long and a little too shaggy for her usual taste, yet all she can seem to think about is how much she'd like to get her fingers tangled in that long shaggy hair.

In addition to his hair, he has a pretty serious growth of facial hair going on. It's a look she usually hates, but gosh, it seems just right on him. The big woot though? It comes when he approaches her booth with that pigeon-toed stride, just before he takes off his sunglasses to sign his name in the ledger book. That's when she gets her first real glimpse of his eyes. They're so blue it's almost startling, and even though he seems nice and all, his eyes have a kind of hard look to them. Maybe it's just the sun. Whatever it is they're gorgeous.

He's very polite. She's been dealing with trucker drivers all day and they've all been nice to her, welcoming her to the job and all, but he's definitely a different breed. Maybe it's just that little smile of his when he says, "Thanks Ma'am." It tickles her to no end.

She can't let it simply go by; this man can't be calling her that. His hand is on the ledger and she giggles as she lightly lays her hand on his. Oh my goodness, his skin feels so warm. The skin is also undeniably rough, a working man's hand and yet the roughness just makes everything seem even better. There isn't anything about him that doesn't practically scream "all man."

The way he's looking at her she can tell he's wondering what the hell is going on, and even though she doesn't really want to move her hand she knows she has to if she doesn't want him thinking she's some kind of weirdo. He's just staring at her when she smiles and tells him, "I'm not old enough to be a Ma'am. How about you just call me Beth, Dixon One."

His ears and his neck seem to have turned a little red but he's smiling the tiniest smile she's ever seen when he says, "Okay Beth, nice ta meet ya." Gee, a hunk with nice manners, and he might even be a little shy. What a dangerously delicious combination.

She sees him regularly after that, he rolls in the yard with a load of logs almost every afternoon. He's always so nice and polite while she records his load and he signs the log. And every single time they go through that same procedure she hopes and prays it will be the time he asks her out, or at the very least asks for her phone number. He never does. And every time she watches his truck roll out of the yard she makes herself sad thinking that he probably has a girlfriend or a wife at home.

His official truck / business name is painted on both cab doors, Dixon One. He hauls logs from where they're being harvested in the forest to one of the many mills throughout the state. Which mill that might be depends on the type of tree and which mill has purchased those particular logs.

He doesn't work for one of the big trucking outfits, he's an independent owner / operator, but he still stays close to home most of the time. He manages that by contracting almost exclusively with one logging company, Ford Logging. He likes the way they operate. The owner, Abraham Ford runs a good crew with military precision.

Ford Logging cuts timber in the coast range not too far from where Daryl lives, and just like several other log truckers do, Daryl lines up for his first load of timber promptly at 4 a.m. five days a week. The difference between Daryl and the other drivers is is, Daryl is the Number One truck. That means he's always the first to load up.

It's a mutually beneficial relationship. Abe has respect for the way Dixon works. He's on time and dependable and he never shows up high or still a little buzzed from the night before. That's why he's number one truck and the first load of logs is always his.

Abe operates the equipment that loads the logs on Dixon's trailer, and once that task is completed Daryl drives the truck just far enough so the next driver can start loading. He jumps down and begins throwing the heavy chains across the load and pulls them tight to secure the load in place. From there it's all downhill, literally.

He'll be navigating a treacherous temporary logging road out of the forest, and when he finally hits pavement he'll officially be on his way to one of the state's many lumber mills. The only times the logging outfits and the drivers aren't working is when the forest is closed for fire danger, or the weather is so bad the logging road can't be navigated. The temporary forest roads are challenging on the best of weather days, during times of heavy rain many become completely impassable.

When cutting timber there are always logs that aren't much good for building or anything else, except to grind up and use to make paper products. That's where the local mill comes in. It's a pulp and paper mill.

He pulls in there just like he does nearly every afternoon, but today is different. Today is the first day he sees her there. She must have replaced Dale, it's about time that old duck retired.

She seems so out of place. She's small, pretty and she looks a little fragile. Way too dainty to be in this loud, male dominated log yard. It can get chilly out there and he likes that knit watchman's cap on her. Even though she's wearing it he can still see plenty of her long shiny blond hair. Her eyes are so big and blue, and real beautiful. He could swear that when she smiles at him they twinkle. Yeah, that's the way it seems to him.

What gets to him is when she lays her hand on his. She probably doesn't mean anything by it, but that doesn't stop it from feeling real good to him. Her skin is soft and cool and he wouldn't have minded if she kept it there a little longer.

A girl like her probably has a whole herd of guys trying to get some time with her.

There's a routine to it, not just for him but for all the drivers. He drives into the mill, pulls his truck up on the scale and then jumps out and takes his paperwork to where she's waiting in the booth. She's always so nice, and she's real friendly. She even acts like she's happy to see him. That's just Beth though. He knows he's nothing special to her. He's just one of a bunch of drivers she has to deal with everyday.

Even though the routine never changes he never gets tired of it when she smiles, "Hi, Daryl," then asks him how he's been and how his day is going. She glances up at the lighted weight above the truck scale and records it on the paperwork. That's how he gets paid, gross weight of the load and trip mileage.

From there he drives the truck into the log yard, the operator unloads the logs and Daryl heads back out. His truck's empty weight is already recorded, which means he doesn't have to stop again to weigh out. That used to be a good thing, now that Beth is in the booth though, maybe it's not so good. It means he doesn't get another chance to get close to her. He drives by the booth, gives her a quick wave goodbye and wishes he had the nerve to talk to her some more. Maybe even ask her out for a beer.

It's Saturday night, three months or so after she started working at the mill. Daryl's feeling a little restless and not into the idea of cooking his own dinner so he grabs his keys and heads over to the Beer & Cue for a pulled pork sandwich and a cold beer. He no sooner walks through the door than he spots her. She's sitting at a corner table all alone and when she looks up she smiles over at him, waves and calls, "Hi there Dixon One."

At least he has the good sense to walk over to her but he has no idea what to say so he just says, "Hi Beth whatcha doin'?" Not exactly brilliant wordplay on his part. He just isn't that guy who knows what to say or how to act around a woman he's interested in. He's awkward and shy and he knows that. Hell anyone who's spent any time at all around him knows that.

Beth knows it too and she doesn't mind at all, quite the contrary. She finds it quite endearing, "Hi Daryl. I'm supposed to be meeting my friend Karen for some barbecue but she hasn't shown up yet, would you like to have a seat with me while I'm waiting?"

Wow, she asked him and he doesn't want to screw this up, "Yeah, uh thanks. Um, I'ma go ta the bar n get a beer, can I get ya one?" Shit he wishes he had some of his brother Merle's bullshitting talent.

"Yes thank you, whatever kind you're having will be just fine with me." Oh my God she's about to jump for joy! She's actually going to have a beer with Daryl Dixon. It's the first time she's ever been happy to have been stood up by a friend.

They sit at the table talking for just over an hour. He's never talked to anyone for that long in his life, not even Merle. In fact this is more than he usually talks all week long. But she's so nice and so easy to talk to and it feels like she calms his nerves.

He walked in the place hungry and by now he's starving. He stands and gets the guts to ask her, "I'ma get myself one a them pulled pork sandwiches, what would you like Beth?"

She smiles that real pretty smile of hers and answers, "I'll just have whatever you're having, that'll be fine." She doesn't want him thinking she's one of those picky types.

He smiles back, "Nah ya have what ya want, and just what might that be?" He's seen enough women in restaurants to know they all seem to think salads are food. Yeah, she probably wants a salad.

She comes real close to making him laugh when she answers, "Truthfully Daryl? I've had my heart and my tummy set on some of those pulled pork nachos all day long."

Her response has him smiling and he nods, "You bet. Nachos it is."

When their food is ready the bartender brings it over to the table. They eat and they laugh, and it's the best Saturday night he can ever remember having, any time anywhere.

Then her friend Karen finally shows up. She's had some car trouble and had to wait until her boyfriend got home from his fishing trip so she could use his vehicle. "I tried and tried to call you Beth but you never answered your cell."

Beth gets her cell from her purse and turns pink when she admits, "Oh my gosh, I had it on mute."

The three of them laugh and then he stands to go. It isn't that he wants to leave, hell he hates to leave her. What he'd like to do is ask for her phone number, and he wants to ask her to go out with him. He just can't seem to get the words out. Damn, why is it so hard?

The truth is, even though he didn't ask her that night he could have asked her later. Like maybe on one of the 50 or 60 occasions since then that he's seen her at the mill. He just doesn't have the nerve. That's right, he's a big chickenshit, plus a dumb ass who needs to grow a pair. He tells himself those things every day as he's pulling out of the mill and waving goodbye to her.

It's like some kind of torture seeing her so often and wanting so badly to spend some time, a lot of time, with her.

Some days he'll be in his truck rolling down the highway and he'll hear the other drivers talking about her on the CB. Their bullshit can set his blood to boil in a hurry. He knows they're just being guys and they don't really mean any of it personal. Everyone likes Beth, but still it's wrong and he feels protective of her and he can never just let it go on. He cuts in and says, "Knock that shit the fuck off ya dumb sons a bitches."

No one wants to be on Dixon's bad side and so the chatter will quickly turn to things like fire danger in the woods and the price of diesel fuel, forest service regulations and what the logs are paying today, who's gotten popped at the scale for being overweight or oversized, just the usual bullshit.

As long as they aren't talking sexual things about Beth Greene he doesn't give a fuck what they talk about.

There's not one driver among them who hasn't recognized that Dixon One has a serious case of the "wants" for Beth in the booth. They're not making fun or giving him shit about it though. No fucking way. Who needs that kind of trouble with Dixon? No, it's behind his back that they have a two-part wager going and everyone's put twenty dollars in the pot, closest wins, winner take all. No winner and they just pool the money and drink it up at the Beer & Cue. Part one is how long will it take Dixon to get the balls to ask her out? Part two is, when he does get the balls up, will she say yes?

A/N I'm wondering the same thing as the drivers. Thank you for reading and please leave a comment. The chapter photo of the truck driver and Beth in the booth is on my tumblr blogs gneebee and bethymethbrick. I'll be back next week with Part Two of The Trucker and I hope you will be too. Until then remember, I love ya large! xo