Chapter 3

"Damn." Daryl whispered, his voice gone breathy and his eyes wide. The only word that came to mind was devastation. The barn, of course, had completely burned to the ground. The burnt-out shell of Dale's RV was barely recognizable next to where the barn used to be. Most of the porch was gone from the front of the house, and from where they hovered near it looked like most of the ground floor windows were broken. Bits and pieces of camping gear were scattered across the ground.

Carol made a sound that was half agreement half gasp before pointing toward what was left of the chicken yard. "There. I can't tell if they got inside the house from here."

They were both whispering. They'd spotted maybe a half-dozen walkers, including the one Carol just pointed out. Daryl was already working on a plan to get rid of them from a distance. They could at least get some food. They weren't positioned right for him to tell if the manual pumps at the well had survived, but he had high hopes that they at least wouldn't be beyond fixing. That would make it worth the trip, even if they couldn't secure the house.

"What do you think?" Carol sounded uncertain, and he could practically hear her chewing on her bottom lip.

"Three bolts. Six Walkers. Don't want to fire a shot and draw more. Ain't got but a handful of ammo anyway." He shrugged. "Figure I'll start with the closest three. Then it's a race between retrieving the –"

"Absolutely not!"

He turned to look at her, irritated at being interrupted. And more than a little insulted she didn't think he could do it. "You got a better idea?"

"Better than you just hoping you can win that race? Give me a minute."

Daryl sighed. "Look, damn things track by sight, sound, and smell. All three. A good breeze picks up right now and they'll be coming this way. We talk much more? Same thing. I can take them out at a good distance, and they ain't too close to each other. It'll be fine."

"And I just sit here and watch and hope you make it?"

"Hell no. You keep your eyes on the direction I ain't lookin'. Can't afford to both look the same way right now. Shit. And we ain't got much daylight left."

He was really wanting some damned walls. And a fence. And a mote, maybe. Some sand traps, pits and a few other things he couldn't think of right now because he'd slept maybe two hours last night and his eyelids felt like sandpaper. He wasn't into playing leader, but there was nothing for it right now. She was gonna have to accept that they had to do this.

"We could go back to the highway. Find a car to sleep in. Come back in the morning, rested and maybe even get a better idea," she said.

"Yeah. Could do. Hand me one of them bottles of water we found. Gonna have a drink before we head back."

"There's no need to be an asshole."

Dammit. "I am what I am," he muttered. Now he felt like he'd kicked a puppy or something. Almost enough to go ahead and do what she said. Just almost. "Watch my back."

He took off at a jog, counting on her to give a shout if he was missing something no matter how mad she was going to be at him. And she was pissed, he could feel her glare on him the whole time.

But shit, it didn't take him as long to do it as it had taken them to argue about it.

He turned and was wiping down the last bolt when she stalked past him. She didn't so much look in his direction, but she was heading toward the water pump and had added a good ten yards to her trip so she could pass close enough to be sure he saw she wasn't looking at him.

That couldn't be good.

"Don't get bit by a snake!" It wasn't a shout, but it was close.

She stopped and turned to glare at him, and it was all he could do not to say 'made you look'.

"You're acting like a child," she said. And shit, the look that crossed her face after she said it. There he went, saying something wrong again. This is why he didn't talk a lot. He just sucked at it so bad, is all.

He slunk past her and beat her to the pump. It wasn't the smoothest he'd ever used. He waved at her to come over, but she just stood there.

"Come on. Get a drink," he tried his best to sound like he they weren't fightin'.

She came a little closer and crossed her arms.

"That was stupid. And selfish. And horrible. I thought you were going to die."

Carol didn't curse. She said bullshit to Rick, and up until now it was the only profane word he'd ever heard her use. Carol was sweet and soft-talking and didn't used to think he was an asshole.

He shrugged at her, and gave the handle another pump. If she didn't want any, he sure did. He stuck his head directly in the stream of water and opened his mouth. He only choked a little. When he was finished, he nodded at her. "Didn't. We got to see if they's any inside the house. Losing daylight."

"You just ignored me like what I said didn't matter."

"What you want, huh? We talked about it. Weren't no other way to go, and couldn't just talk all day. And I damn well do listen to ya. We done talked about every single move we made."

She shook her head, cupped her hands under the spicket and waited. He obliged, and she seemed a little less pissed when she'd drunk her fill.

"Let's check the house. But those windows won't keep anything out."

Daryl pointed to the SUV that had been left behind when they ran. "Likely have to sleep in there tonight. But first we can clear the house, get somethin' to eat from the cellar. Blankets and pillows maybe."

"Just tell me what to do."

He mostly just had her follow him while he went from room to room, knife out, back to back. Every time he tried to think of how to teach her, he flashed on how his brother had taught him to swim. He'd been maybe four or five, and Merle had looked at him one scorching summer day while they were fishing and said, 'it's time you learned somethin'. Then he'd tossed Daryl into the water, yelling at him that if he wanted to live he'd swim the hell to the bank. Daryl remembered coming to, spitting up water and his chest on fire, only to have Merle tell him that boys what weren't pussies and who didn't lose their shit and start flailing around, would bob right up to the top on their own. Then he'd thrown him back in. Ten years later, he'd taught Daryl to fight in much the same way. Just replace the lake with a bar and water for a bunch of Merle's asshole friends, and that's Fighting 101, Merle-style.

It wasn't that Daryl hadn't learned how to swim, or how to fight, it was just that he didn't think that teaching method would work with Carol and Walkers.

But they'd got plenty done for the day. He started a fire in the fireplace, and they put some sweet potatoes from the cellar in the ashes and heated a kettle of water over the flames to use with the instant coffee Carol had found in the cabinet over the stove. It was old, and not the best in the world, but at least it wasn't decaf.

She was quiet the whole time, though, and Daryl didn't think it was his kind of quiet.

Damn.

"I ain't sorry for what I did," he said. "Had to clear it. But I maybe ain't as good at the cooperatin' thing as I ought to be. It could be I'm sorry for how I did it. Should've convinced you first." He meant it, mostly, but not nearly as much as he just wanted her to let it go.

"I should have been able to help you. Not just stand there while you risked your life for us. It can't be like that."

Well, if that was what was bubbling around in her head, it wasn't nearly as bad as he'd thought it was.

"Why? Doin' more today than yesterday. Do more tomorrow than today. You ain't learnin' fast enough, I'll tell ya. And it ain't like I know everything. Still getting used to all this shit, too, y'know." He shrugged, and changed topics. "It's done started getting real cool at night. We'll grab some pillows and blankets and get in that truck for the night."

"There are two of us," Carol said, sighing.

And there she went, off somewhere he didn't follow again. "Can count," he said. She raised her eyebrows at him and he rolled his eyes. "Mean, what about there bein' two of us."

"It means there's no one to break the tie. If we can't find a compromise, someone has to decide things. You were right about that. We can't just stand and argue forever."

Daryl sighed. "It's about fighting? You listen to me, 'cause you don't know what you're doin' yet. Everything else, I listen to you."

Her mouth dropped open, "Excuse me?"

He shrugged. "We ain't followin' assholes. Between the two of us? I'm the asshole. So we follow you. When they ain't no settlin' it. Or time to settle it. Whatever."

"You seem awfully okay with that. I don't know what I'm doing!"

"You do okay. Still alive. Not the best fighter, but you think better than most, I reckon. It don't work out, we try something else, right? That's the whole point." He finished off his coffee and said, "You grab them blankets, I'll put the fire out. Meet you at the front door in five minutes."

"And you aren't an asshole. You were just acting like one. For a minute," Carol insisted.

Daryl figured that 'asshole' was likely a fair enough assessment of him. But it got him out of making all the decisions. Except the ones about fighting.

He paused, turning to look after her as she walked up the stairs and it hit him square between the eyes. Almost everything was about fighting or being ready to fight or making sure you didn't have to fight these days. Damn.

The sun streaming through the window and landing directly on Carol's face was blinding, and the interior of the SUV was already stifling when she woke to the sound of a walker beating on the window above her head. She didn't scream, but the cut off sound of what wasn't a scream but only the result of being startled awake woke Daryl, who was sprawled in the rear with his crossbow on his chest like it was a security blanket.

Okay, fine. She screamed. At least he didn't mention it.

He'd slept like a baby, while she'd lain awake trying to come to grips with the fact that Daryl was apparently perfectly fine with her having the final say in what they were doing. Some of what they were doing. Anyway, it didn't seem right to her, since they were officially out here looking for Merle. Not that her companion seemed in any hurry.

Her companion who had been twisted around getting ready, she presumed, to go outside and kill the walker.

"Just one of 'em. You see any more?"

She'd been lost in her thoughts and not looking, but she looked now. "No. Just the one." If her voice sounded breathless it was because she'd been asleep. Not because she was absolutely terrified of the thing pressing its teeth against the barrier between them and scratching at the glass.

Oh, for pity's sake. She wasn't even going to try. She'd screamed. She was terrified. And neither of those things made one bit of difference in the world, so why should she bother to pretend?

"Okay. Get out the other side. I'm gonna grab this one by his shirt and hold 'em. Bring your knife. You're killin' yourself a dead guy. Start the day off right."

He sounded far too happy about the prospect.

Her heart was beating against her chest so hard and fast she was sure he had to hear it when she stepped around the rear of the vehicle.

"Gotcha knife?"

Of course she did. She put it up, in front of her, in an approximation of the way she'd seen him do it. "Yeah."

"Okay, here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna let him go."

"Just hold him still!"

"This about fightin?" he asked, smirking.

She was wrong last night. He really was an asshole.

"Okay. You're going to let him go and then?"

"Let him take a couple steps toward you. You want to keep away from his mouth all together, so come at him from kinda an angle if you can. This one ain't no taller than you, so he's a good one to start."

The thing he called a he was weaving and pulling and simultaneously trying to get out of Daryl's hold and turn to his head enough to get his teeth into man holding him. Carol didn't see anything for her companion to feel so smug about, but smug was exactly how he sounded.

"Okay," she said. She wasn't ready for this. "I'm ready."

She let him come within a few feet, and then the waiting was too much and she stepped forward, aiming for its eye. The knife glanced off its cheekbone and her momentum kept her moving forward. Her other hand was pushing against it, trying to keep it away from her, and she felt one of its hands grasping at the top of her left arm.

Whether it was adrenaline or sheer unadulterated panic, the next thing she was aware of was the knife sinking hilt-deep into its eye and then she was falling backward. For the briefest of moments, it was on top of her, but Daryl had lifted it up and tossed it to the side so fast she didn't even have time to scream again. She lay there, gasping for air and covered in bits of it's flesh.

"You scratched?"

Now Daryl was the one who sounded almost scared.

"No. No, I'm fine."

He reached for her hand and pulled, helping her to her feet. She could have sworn his hands were shaking, just a little, but he let go so quickly she couldn't say she was completely sure. She was certain, though, that the full-blown smile on his face was the first one she had ever seen him wear. "Damn right you are. Swam the first try. Didn't sink nary time." He slapped her on the back a little harder than she expected, and it startled a squeak out of her that turned into a laugh.

She didn't have the first clue what swimming had to do with anything, but as Carol stared at the body, for just a moment it represented the entire world being out to kill her, and something warm spread through her chest.

She did that. He didn't kill it for her. She didn't stand behind anyone.

She defended herself.

One side of Daryl's mouth was still tilted ever so slightly up, like he was trying to hide that he had ever smiled at all but couldn't keep it completely in. He said, "Now let's get to that pump and rinse all this shit off. Then we can worry about breakfast and decide what to do today."

"I was thinking we could take down the interior doors and use them to cover the windows. I think there's enough if you count the closets. If we can find some nails and a hammer, anyway."

Daryl nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

And it did. It sounded like a good plan that a not-stupid woman might come up with, after she killed the thing that tried to kill her. She looked at Daryl out of the corner of her eye, and could swear that he looked proud.