Carol had offered to show Daryl where the shop was, as if he couldn't read a damn map, as if he hadn't already ridden his motorcycle through the whole park. Maybe she just wanted to be with him, but that didn't make much sense. Still, it almost seemed like she did. It seemed like she enjoyed his company.
She'd left Sophia in the care of the group, and they were now walking over a wooden bridge across The River Thames. Or so the sign said. It was really just a freshwater creek, not big enough for fish, but a happy breeding ground for mosquitos. Daryl slapped one against his neck now. The creek ran through a tunnel that went underground and eventually, Daryl assumed, under the iron fence surrounding the park, under the parking lot, and out into the forest to meet with something bigger.
Carol stopped walking suddenly and seized his wrist like a girl jumping on her boyfriend at a scary movie. That was when he heard the growl and jerked his head toward the tunnel. A walker ducked out of the three-foot high opening and began splashing toward them in the water.
Carol let go of his wrist and reached for the butt of the handgun in her holster. "Stop!" he ordered. They didn't need to waste a bullet or frighten the others with the sound of gunshots. He didn't bother sweeping his bow from his shoulder. It wasn't cocked and loaded. Instead, he vaulted over the rail of bridge and into the rocky water below – it was a short drop, less than three feet.
Daryl landed in a crouch, and the water splashed up his legs. He rose quickly and unsheathed his knife. The walker closed the distance between them, and Daryl drove his blade into its rotting forehead and then jerked the knife back out. The walker crumpled into the stream, smashing its face on a rock as it went down.
Daryl dragged the body out of the creek and left it on the shore. He then splashed in – the water only came halfway to his knees - and peered inside the tunnel from which the creature had emerged. He fished a maglite out of his pocket and shone it inside. There was no way the walker had crawled from outside the park through that tunnel, because though the opening here was three-foot high, the tunnel got narrower and narrower and lower and lower and lower as it went on. At some point, the thing would have had to crawl on its belly like a snake, for yards and yards, face down in the water. That seemed highly unlikely. It had been in that tunnel, but it hadn't come from the other side.
He went back to examine the body on the shore. That's when he noticed the muddied security uniform and the little golden nametag – as well as the fact that the body had been shot in the chest, quite likely before turning. That other security guard – Lloyd – had done the deed, Daryl speculated. He hadn't known the dead body would turn, hadn't know everyone had the disease. He'd just left the body somewhere, and it had reanimated and wandered off.
Daryl was surprised the walker hadn't come out when he was slowly casing the park on his roaring motorcycle – he'd crossed this very bridge – but maybe it had been somewhere else at the time.
Why Lloyd had shot this guard was another matter. Maybe this guard had tried to stop Lloyd from doing what he wanted to do with that woman. Or maybe he'd been competition for her. Daryl left the body on the shore, crossed the creek, and went up the grassy hill to join Carol on the other side of the bridge.
"Do we need to board up that tunnel?" she asked. "Keep them from crawling in from the outside?"
"Nah. Wasn't from the outside. From the inside. Security guard. Tunnel gets so small eventually, doubt anything bigger than a raccoon could easily get in. But should watch for more walkers. Just in case."
"You said the security office was open when you rode by. Did you check the logs to see how many guards were on duty when the park was closed?"
"Uh…no. Didn't think of it," Daryl admitted. "But I'll do that tomorrow." Then they'd know if they could expect to find another security-guard-turned-walker they'd yet to come across. "Smart idea," he added, because it was.
As they began walking again, she asked, "Will you teach me to use a knife?"
"Seen you chopping wild onions back at the quarry camp. Damn quick. Think you know how to use one."
"I know how to use one for cooking. I meant for killing. Like you just did with that walker."
Daryl blinked. "Seriously?"
"I need to learn. Like you said, there might still be a few in here lurking around we haven't seen. Or others might find a way in we haven't thought about yet. And we have to go outside sometimes. I can't rely on a handgun or rifle all the time. We only have so much ammunition, and guns are loud."
"Can show you how to hold a knife right and cut shit, but don't know what we'd kill in here, unless we do see another walker. Ain't sure how likely that is."
"We need to go on a supply run to find seeds to start a vegetable garden. Take me with you. Teach me to kill walkers out there."
"You really want to go back out there?" he asked. Who was this woman? Less than a month ago she'd been shaking in her boots every time her husband raised his voice.
Although, if he thought about it, the change had been coming ever since she demanded Daryl hand over that axe. She'd said it so quietly, too. I'll do it. He was my husband. But then she drove that axe into Ed's skull hard, over and over and over. She wept the whole time she was doing it, three different kind of tears falling all at once – tears of grief, tears of anger, tears of relief. Ever since then, she'd been like a turtle slowly but steadily creeping out of its shell, day by day. Or creeping out of the shadow of Ed, maybe.
"No, I don't want to," she replied. "But this is the world we're living in now. That's not going to change. I need to learn."
"A'ight. But not just you. Gonna take Shane or Rick or T-Dog at least." He didn't trust her to have his back alone out there. Not yet. She'd killed one walker, after all. "When ya wanna go?"
"In a week, maybe, after we get settled. After you've taught me to…whatever the equivalent of dry firing with a knife is."
Daryl nodded.
At the King James Tobacco Shop, Daryl took out the keys he'd taken from Rick and unlocked the door, but he didn't open it. It had a wooden door and cobblestone walls, and he couldn't see everything through the one window. He loaded his bow, cocked it and leveled it at the door. "Open it for me."
Carol threw the door open, and Daryl swept inside, right and then left, before calling "All Clear." She walked in after him.
"I love the smell of pipe tobacco," she said.
"Too sweet," he muttered. "But this place is a gold mine." He swung his bow back on his shoulder. He took a fresh, unopened pack of cigarettes and tucked it into his front shirt pocket. He took several more packs and shoved them in the deep pockets of his cargo pants. Then he took an entire unopened box containing twenty-four packs. He ignored the cigars, pipes, and loose pipe tobacco. That wasn't his thing. Pipes and cigars always reminded him of rich, pretentious fucks.
"How long will cigarettes last before they spoil?" Carol asked.
"Don't spoil. They just dry out. But that's after the pack is opened. Unopened pack? Might last two years before it starts to go stale. And I could probably stand to smoke 'em four, even five years out."
"That's a shame. I thought you might have to quit soon."
"Weren't you just asking me for a smoke ten minute ago?"
"I was just trying to look cool." She smiled. She had a pretty smile. It made her look younger, and it made her eyes look different somehow. Lighter. "But it is bad for your health."
"Ain't tryin' to live to be a hundred. If I get lung cancer, I'll just blow m'brains out 'fore I become a burden."
"That's bleak."
"Just sayin'. None of y'all got to worry about nursin' me in my old age." Daryl set down the box for a moment, grabbed another loose pack of cigarettes, opened it, and took out a smoke. When he put the cigarette between his lips and began to light up, he saw the strange, contemplative look on Carol's face. He lowered his lighter, sucked in to set the tip of the cigarette aglow, and blew out away from her. Then he asked. "Somethin' wrong?"
"No. Nothing. I just…when you said that, I guess it just hit me suddenly that we're all going to be together forever now, until death do us part. Like a marriage."
He studied her while he took another puff. "Except without all the fucking."
She smiled a little mischievously. It gave her a twinkle in her pretty blue eyes. "There's already been some fucking."
"Yeah, but I ain't got in on that."
She raised an eyebrow. "You want in on it?"
Daryl froze. What the hell did that mean? Was she coming on to him? Nah. She was just joking. But the tone, the way she'd said it, it almost sounded like an offer. But not a real offer. A tease. But why was she teasing him? Women didn't tease men like him. They were afraid to. But it had been a tease, hadn't it? She couldn't actually be seriously asking if he wanted to fuck her. Hell, maybe he had it all wrong. Maybe it wasn't a tease or an offer. Maybe she was just asking if he wanted to fuck Andrea. Or Lori?
Daryl reeled for a safe answer. Finally, he said, "I ain't interested in a threesome with Rick or Shane."
To his relief, Carol chuckled. "No, but I bet Lori is."
Daryl snickered. "Could solve the baby daddy problem."
Carol laughed. "Oh, so you have the same suspicions I do?"
"Don't we all?" Daryl asked.
"You think Rick knows?"
"Think Rick made a deliberate choice not to know."
"It's going to be hard to pretend not to know when that baby comes seven and a half months after Rick showed up in camp," Carol said.
"Nah. It'll be a big ass baby with Shane as a daddy."
Carol snorted and Daryl smiled and ducked his head. When he looked up again, she was smiling. "Andrea wouldn't like it though," she said.
"Like what?" Daryl asked.
"Lori's threesome with Rick and Shane."
"Andrea could have Glenn," Daryl suggested. "Or T-Dog."
"But not you?" Carol asked.
"I already got fucked by a lawyer once. Didn't enjoy it." He grabbed the box of cigarettes again and began walking out of the shop, still smoking.
Carol followed, asking "Why didn't you enjoy it?"
"Because he took the goddamn trailer. Sued Merle on behalf of his client for mental damage from assault. Criminal charges didn't stick, so he went for the civil lawsuit. And then we were homeless for a while."
"Oh," she said. "That kind of fucking."
He smirked. "You said fucking. Twice now. You've got a dirty mouth, Mrs. Peletier."
"Miss Murphy," she corrected him decisively. "I'm Miss Murphy again now."
"That your maiden name?"
She nodded.
"You don't look Irish."
"No?" she asked. "What's an Irish person look like?"
He shrugged. When they got back to the group, Rick was hollering to the kids that it was time to "Wrap it up and move out! We still have more park to explore!"
[*]
The group found a lot of usable things worth looting and quickly ran out of space in the truck. They debated going back for the van and overturned the idea. The loot would all still be there later when they wanted it, but they were taking inventory.
At the main, largest first aid station, they found pain killers, gauze, antibiotic, anti-itch cream, antihistamines, epi-pens, three wheelchairs, crutches, antiseptic wipes, butterfly bandages, splints, and more. In a shop selling soft pretzels, they found baking soda, flour, and salt. "They actually handmade these?" Lori asked in shock. At the funnel cake stand they found powdered sugar, funnel cake mix, and canned strawberries in syrup. Everywhere they found soda and bottled water. They found jars of popcorn kernels as well as jars of giant pickles at the popcorn stand. "See, there's a vegetable!" Rick told Lori.
"Can we plug in the popcorn machine at the house?" Sophia asked. "And make popcorn?"
"In a couple days, maybe," Carol told her.
"How many fucking things are we gonna plug in?" Daryl asked. "Talkin' two extra drink fridges and a popcorn machine? Got to conserve power."
"Just once in a while!" Carol told him. "To make the popcorn. You said it took two days of no use to get a full charge on the solar battery, but then that along with the panels ran the house for five days of heavy use. We won't have heavy use. We'll keep the A/C at 86 in the summer. The heat at 60 in the winter. And we can have a no lights rule during the day. And like you said, short showers."
"Popcorn ain't a high priority use of power!" Daryl insisted.
"You sound like a grumpy old man," Glenn told him.
"You're gonna see grumpy if I catch you leavin' a light on," Daryl warned him. "Or spendin' too long in the shower."
"I bet Glenn takes extra long showers," Andrea teased. Shane chuckled and Glenn flushed.
"You don't have to rub it in my face, you know," Glenn said. "That you two…" he waved from Shane to Andrea. "Enjoy each other."
"Don't worry, Glenn my friend," T-Dog said cheerfully. "You're not the only one in need of a little shower time around here."
The kids looked confused by the entire conversation, but they lost interest when the group approached a candy store. They were at the door jumping in place before Rick, who was driving the pick-up, could stop.
The kids went crazy in there, much to Lori's chagrin, who kept saying, "Not so much! Not so much! You'll get a tummy ache. You'll rot your teeth out!" as each kid filled a big cloth shopping bag full of candy.
The big kids enjoyed themselves, too. Andrea licked a giant lollipop while T-Dog tried to catch jellybeans in his mouth and Shane and Rick engaged in a competition to determine who could suck on a warhead the longest before spitting it out.
"Make Glenn do it!" Daryl shouted. "Make Glenn suck on a warhead!"
"Oh, no, no, not me," replied Glenn, raising a hand and shaking his head. "I don't like those things."
"Pussy!" Daryl shouted. "Pussy pussy pussaaaaay!"
"Fine!" Glenn replied angrily. "Let's see who can last the longest!" He seized two warheads and tossed one at Daryl.
Daryl caught it and ripped open the packaging. "Count of three."
"One," Glenn counted, "two, three!"
They both tossed the warheads in their mouths. Daryl narrowed his eyes. Glenn's face grew increasingly red. After about forty seconds, Glenn ran for the trashcan near the checkout counter and spit the wet candy inside. After he'd done that, Daryl just spit his across the store.
"It's because you dulled your taste buds with smoking," Glenn told him.
Carol explored the candies. The chocolate had all melted and was probably moldy from the heat and dampness, but the soft candies in sealed packages and wrappers would likely last a long while, and the hard candies even longer.
She found a package of Wack-O-Wax Wax Lips and ripped it open. Carol covered her own lips with them and bit down on the waxy grip before saddling up to Daryl, who was popping a Necco wafer into his mouth. She waited for him to notice her and turn, and then joked, her words muffled by the lips, "Do I look sexy?"
"Pffft. Look ridiculous. Cut that shit out."
No return on that serve, she told herself as she tossed the lips on the floor.
"Ain't gonna eat 'em?" he asked.
"Those things are nasty. Worse than Necco wafers."
"Yeah, what's your favorite candy then?"
"That's not melted beyond hope?" she asked. "Probably Dots."
Daryl walked away to the other side of the store and a minute later shouted, "Heads up, Miss Murphy!" He chucked a large, yellow box of Dots in her direction.
She made a dive and slapped her hands together and failed to catch them. Still, she decided to score herself one point anyway, judging that her serve had been returned after all.
It was hard work dragging the kids out of the candy store, but the group moved on. They finally found some canned vegetables, at the only restaurant in the park where you could sit down and have someone come to you and take your order and bring you your food. It was called The Royal Banquet, and it purported to be fancy, with its dark wood tables and white tablecloths sporting a glass-ensconced candle at every center, but it was amusement park fancy, as indicted by the canned food in the back – asparagus ("Eww! That'll make your pee green!" Carl cried), glazed carrots ("Great, more sugar," Lori opined), baby corn and sliced beets ("Probably for their so-called 'fresh' salads," Andrea noted), green beans ("Actually like those," Daryl said, "eat 'em straight out the can"), tomato soup ("That will be good for cooking a lot of recipes," Carol noted), clam chowder ("Soup of the day!" T-Dog shouted like an announcer), and canned pear halves ("For the pear crumble dessert," Glenn noted).
They went shopping for fresh new clothes in one of the gift shops, which had plenty of shirts and sweatshirts and jackets and hats but not much in the way of bottoms other than athletic shorts and sweatpants. Daryl slipped on a black leather vest with a pair of golden angels' wings stitched on the back.
"Is that from the Kingdom of Heaven selection?" Carol teased him.
"Stahp. Ain't half bad." He tugged on the tail of the vest to straighten it. "Kind of like it."
"It goes well with your cut-off shirt sleeves," she said and walked on, trailing her fingers through the hanging clothes.
It did go well with his cut off shirt sleeves. Those arms. It was October now, though, or close to it - the days were hard to judge - and she supposed he'd start wearing long sleeves eventually, even if he was one of those men generally unbothered by the cold.
She stopped, plucked out a pair of athletic short-shorts with Fun Kingdom written across the ass in sparkly pink and purple letters, and turned and asked Daryl, "Think these would work for me?"
"Pfffft." He ducked his head and smiled. "Just don't complain when T-Dog's readin' your ass."
"T-Dog, huh?" she asked and strolled on through the racks. She was sure she could feel Daryl's eyes on her ass when she did, however, and so she scored herself a second point.
When he came out of the shop later, he was wearing a new pair of dark sunglasses, even though the sun was starting to sink. He was doing it, she suspected, so she wouldn't be able to see where his eyes were roaming. And for that, she scored herself a third point.