When the women get back to the prison, they haggle before splitting the loot. Carol's trunk is now completely full, as is the floor behind the driver's seat. When she's done loading, Carol spies Sophia by the fence where three walkers have piled up. She's next to Carl, who is nodding his head encouragingly, and Sophia's holding his father's revolver, which bears a long silencer on its barrel.
Sophia aims, the gun a bit unsteady because she's quivering at the nearness of the walkers, divided from her by only a thin chain link, and squeezes the trigger. The massive kick back throws her back, and the walker, which has been hit in the neck, stumbles back a step before returning with double rage to rattle the fence.
"Again!" Carl yells, and Sophia steadies her nerves and fires again, this time ripping apart a link in the fence and hitting the walker's chest. A second walker now sticks almost its entire mouth through the newly ripped opening.
By now, Carol has stridden through the field and is halfway to the kids. The remaining two walkers are thrashing wildly at the fence, their fingers clawing through the holes and their faces pressed tightly against the links. Sophia gasps at their mad thrashing and takes a step back. "Go on!" Carl prods. "You can do it."
Sophia takes a deep breath, raises the revolver, and closes one eye. She plants her feet firmly in the ground and fires straight into the walker's open mouth. The shot tears through the back bottom of its head, and the gun jerks upward from the kickback, so it's now pointing straight in the air. That's much too big a gun for a child.
The shot causes damage, but doesn't hit the walker's brain, and now another walker is at the blown-out hole in the fence and using two hands to rip it farther apart.
"Oh, shit!" cries Carl, and pries the gun from Sophia's stunned hands. But by now Carol is at the fence and stabs the creature in the forehead. She does the same, quickly, with the other two.
With all three bodies fallen in the yard on the other side of the fence, Carol asks, "What are you kids doing?"
"Practicing," Sophia answers. "I've never shot one before. Did you see? I shot it!"
"You have to get the brain though," Carl says.
"I know, dummy," Sophia replies. "It's just this gun has a lot of kick back."
"Because it's a .45!" Carol cries. "Look, when you pass the range test, I'll give permission for you to carry. But you need to request a .22. And until you pass the range test, please, no shooting walkers. Unless it's a life-or-death situation. When you pass the test, I'll take you pike cleaning and you can do some supervised target practice on walkers." She puts her hand on the torn section in the fence. "This is a problem."
"I'll fix it," Carl assures her. "We have ties." He puts a hand on Sophia's shoulder. "Good job for your first time with one right up close to you like that. I know they can be scarry."
"I've killed one before," Sophia tells him. "Out there on the road. With a fire poker."
"Braining," Carl says. "I've killed, like…eleven maybe?" He says it casually, but it's a bit like he's making a point of in his superiority.
"I'm a good shot on the range," Sophia insists. "I just…it's different when it's real walkers."
"You'll get used to it." He nods and lets his hand slide from her shoulder.
Tara is now on the other side of the fence, having been at work in a barb-wired cordoned off area in the field where they plant corn, and she pulls ties from the back pocket of her blue jeans and binds the hole in the chain link close together. "Try not tear any more holes in the fence, Carl. Your mother told you not to antagonize the walkers."
"We weren't antagonizing them," Carl replies. "We were killing them." He glances at Carol. "Well, we were going to kill them if Mrs. Pelletier didn't."
"Call me Carol," Carol insists. "I don't go by that surname anymore."
"Yes, ma'am. Ms. Carol."
"It was me," Sophia admits. "Not Carl. I'm sorry."
Tara sighs. "You know I was out there working in that corn plot?"
"That plot is way to the left!" Carl insists. "Sophia was aware of her target and what was beyond it, and you were nowhere near beyond it."
"Still, don't practice when there are people out there, okay? Just don't. It's unnerving." Tara finishes her tying and is about to turn to return to her work.
"Hey," Carol says, "Have y'all ever considered reinforcing the fence by spacing angled wooden pikes in a line in front of it? It can slow down and catch up some of the walkers before they ever get to the chain."
"It's not a bad idea," Tara agrees. "I'll send in a proposal to the Council."
As she turns and walks away, Carol puts an arm around Sophia's shoulders. "Why don't you kids go toss a ball or play poker or something? Have some fun. You only have one more day together."
"We were having fun," Sophia mutters.
[*]
Daryl isn't in the infirmary when Carol goes to see him, but this time she doesn't panic. She finds him outside at the right side of the prison, leaned back against a gray cinderblock wall near an exit door, smoking.
"How'd it go?" he asks.
She tells him about what they found and how they split the stash as evenly as possible. "I got about a dozen cartons full of cigarettes. So 144 packs. They kept half, probably in hopes of trading them to us. Do you know no one here smokes? A few used to, but they quit when they couldn't regularly find cigarettes." She looks at the smoke curling in the air. "Maybe you should consider quitting."
"Then how in the hell 'm s'posed to look cool?"
She laughs.
He smiles and takes another drag. "Used to smoke a pack a day. I'm way down from that."
"That reminds me. Since you gave me a gift, I got you a gift." Carol knows it's not nearly as valuable as the rifle he gave her, but she's fairly pleased with her selection. She fishes out the silver lighter and hands it to him. "And there's a refill can of butane to go with it in the car."
"Lighter. Nice. Thanks." He slips it casually in his pocket.
He wasn't nearly as enthusiastic about it as she'd hoped. "Did you see what was etched on it?"
He fishes the lighter back out and turns it over in his hand. "A deer. Nice. Thanks." And then he slides it in his pocket again.
"I thought you'd be more excited," she admits ruefully.
He shuffles his foot. "Sorry. 'M I 'sposed to squeal or something?"
"No. It was stupid. You probably have a dozen lighters."
"Nah, I like it," he insists, and again the lighter comes out. He flicks the cap off with his thumb and lights it up. It wooshes and hisses as a blue-white flame glows. "Damn good one. And extra butane? That's gold." He let's go the button and the flame dies. "And look at that deer! Check out them antlers! Fifteen points at least." He tilts the lighter toward her.
"You don't have to overdo it. It just made me think of you, is all."
"Affection," he says.
She smiles. "Yes. I gave it to you as a sign of affection."
"Nice to be thought of," he murmurs.
"You know, while we were out there…." She's feeling him out. "Maggie called you my boyfriend." She waits for a reaction, but he doesn't reply. He just peers at her as he takes another puff on his cigarette. So she admits, "I wasn't sure how to respond."
"Why would you have to respond?"
"I…I guess I didn't have to. I just wasn't sure if I should confirm it. I mean, I don't want to presume that's how you see yourself."
"Ain't I?" he asks.
"Yes?"
"That a question?"
"No. Yes. No, it's not a question. Yes, you are my boyfriend."
"Good. 'Cause I ain't in the habit of sticking my tongue in people's mouths who ain't m'girlfriend."
Carol feels like her smile is too big for her face now.
"'Course," He shrugs. "I ain't in the habit of having a girlfriend." He takes another drag and blows out the smoke. "Don't know what the hell I'm doing, really."
"Well, I think you're doing fine." She bumps his shoulder affectionately with hers, and he winces. "Oh God, I'm sorry. I forgot for a second. Every little jolt hurts, doesn't it?"
"Didn't hurt," he lies. "I'm fine. Ready to go in the morning."
"You said two nights."
"Carol, this place is a tomb. You really wanna stay?" He sounds like he's a little wary of the answer.
"Only for Sophia to enjoy her time with Carl. And for you to get road ready. But Copper Creek is my home."
He nods. "A'right. Leave the morning after tomorrow then."
"Thank you. I know you'll be happy to be home."
"You get that furniture arranged in the cottage?"
"Oh…" Carols slams her back against the wall and crosses her arms over her chest. "Yeah, about that." She tells him what Sasha did.
"That bitch!"
"She's not. She's really not. They have baggage from their conflict with the Governor." She tells him about the box of food and how Big Tiny died.
He sighs. "Well, I guess we go get more on the way home. Hell, Sophia can help you pick. She's got to live with it, too."
"Daryl, we can't. First of all, I don't have the truck. DeShawn wouldn't trust me with it after we banged it up. I just have my sedan. And you, sir, are not in furniture hauling condition. The grandma furniture is fine. Really."
"Ain't fine. You hate it."
"I do not hate it. It's perfectly functional."
"Then why'd you wanna go on a damn furniture run?" he asks with disbelief.
"You suggested it," she reminds him. "And I thought I shouldn't get too soft, never going out on the road. I thought I should stay in running shape. And…maybe I wanted to spend a little time alone with you."
The right side of his lip curls up. "Yeah? Really?"
She shrugs coyly. "I may have had a bit of an ulterior motive."
His cigarette is down to a stub now, and he drops it on the gray asphalt and grounds it out beneath his boot. "You were already planning to kiss me?"
"No. I didn't have any plans to do that. That was more an in-the-moment thing. But I knew I enjoyed your company. And I thought maybe we'd get to know each other better on the road. And we did. And you tried to kiss me first, mister."
"Pfft. When?"
"In those recliners. You were leaning in, but you got spooked."
He ducks his head. "Maybe," he admits.
"You're still a little spooked," she says. "You haven't kissed me yet."
"Kissed you on the lips four times now!"
"You're keeping count. That's adorable. But I initiated all of those. I mean, you asked for one. But you never just dive right - "
His lips silence hers. He's all smoke and no mint now, but she doesn't care as his open palm presses against the small of her back and he draws her deeper into the kiss. But his drawing presses her against his wound and he groans not in pleasure but in pain and steps back. "Sorry," he mutters.
She smiles. "You know it's the thought that counts."
"Not the execution?"
"We've got plenty of time to work on the execution. Besides, I was out there looting for hours, and I'm hungry. I think they're serving. Are you ready for dinner?"
"Could eat," he says as he opens the side door for her and she walks inside ahead of him. "Just wish you were cooking."
Carol decides she will volunteer to cook, tomorrow night, as partial payment for the prison's camp's hospitality, because what they took of her initial stash wasn't much. It was a pittance in exchange for saving the life of her boyfriend.
As the door clanks shut behind them, and the faint hallway lights buzz softly above, Carol reaches down and slips her hand into Daryl's. He looks down at her hand in his like it's a foreign thing to him, to be holding hands, and she supposes it probably is. But he doesn't let ago until they round the corner and get halfway down the hall and Lori comes out of the library with RJ on her hip and smiles at their clasped hands.