Living One Sitcom Trope at a Time
Daryl opened the heavy glass door and held it while Beth walked through, following close behind her. A bell chimed above them and they approached the front desk of Terminus Car Rental just as a tall, skinny, brown-haired man emerged from the door of the office behind it. He looked young, maybe a few years older than Beth. His smile seemed genuine, but it gave her an odd chill nonetheless.
There was a sign on the door in bold black letters that read: Authorized Personnel Only. And hanging on the wall next to the door was a framed photo of what appeared to be a small family; a pair of older parents and two twenty-something-year-old sons with matching hair and eyes. One of the sons was the guy behind the desk.
Merle appeared a few feet to Beth's left, standing by with his arms crossed over his chest and an expression of disapproval on his face as he took in the interior of the business. As agreed, he was keeping his mouth shut for the time being.
The computer sat behind the desk, the monitor facing the door of the office. She kept running over what Rick had explained inside her head. All she needed was maybe ten seconds alone with that damn thing. Just a chance to lean over the desk and reach the keyboard, to open one little file and steal a peek at the screen. But she'd have to make sure it was logged in first. There was no time to be guessing passwords today.
"Hi there!" The man behind the desk greeted Beth and Daryl. His shiny gold name badge read: Gareth. "How can I help you folks today?"
Beth set her elbows on the desk and leaned in a bit, putting on her brightest smile and batting her eyelashes at Gareth. She could feel Daryl tensing up beside her, prepared to follow her lead. "Hi, how are you today—" she pointedly glanced at his name badge and smiled a little wider "—Gareth?"
He smiled back and nodded. "I'm well, and yourself?"
She could tell he was trying to focus on her, but he was offering Daryl the wariest of glances. She had to remind herself that Daryl could be intimidating at first, all scowls and shaggy hair. So she amped up her cheer a bit in an effort to compensate.
"Oh, I'm great," she said, beaming. "My husband an' I are here for our honeymoon, and we were thinkin' about renting a car to make the sight-seeing a little easier."
Daryl grunted, eyes widening just the slightest. Gareth didn't seem to notice, though. He appeared surprised at first, but then he nodded eagerly. "Congratulations! Um, yeah absolutely, let's see what we can put you guys in. Are we thinkin' for the day, or a week maybe?"
Beth shrugged, pretending to be indecisive. "Not sure yet. We thought we'd come in an' see what kinda prices you have—maybe there's a deal you could offer for a couple of newlyweds like us?" She batted her eyelashes again, giggling softly.
Gareth stepped over a couple inches until he was directly in front of the computer, one hand on the mouse and the other tapping a few keys on the keyboard, studying the screen for a moment. He raised his eyebrows and said, "Lemme just pull up some info…" He paused and sighed in annoyance, explaining, "Sorry, this darn thing is so slow these days, takes forever to load—oh yeah, here we go. Okay we have a package deal here…"
Beth pretended to listen, shooting Merle a meaningful side-eye and giving a discreet nod of her head. The dead Dixon grinned and winked at her, then he disappeared.
"And were you guys thinkin' a specific type of vehicle?" Gareth asked, raising his eyes from the computer screen to look at Beth.
Daryl interjected, "Got any SUVs?"
Gareth nodded quickly and looked back to the screen, making a few clicks and tapping a key here and there. "Let's see… Oh yeah, we have a few options, if you—"
A woman's scream came from somewhere behind the office door, "SHIT!" Then the clatter of something heavy falling to the floor, followed by the resounding diiiiing of metal on metal.
Gareth whipped his head around and called out frantically, "Mom?!" He looked back to Beth and Daryl and said, "Please excuse me, I'll be right back." And before they could respond, he was turning around and disappearing behind the office door as fast as he could.
Without a second of hesitation, Beth dashed around the desk and stopped in front of the computer, quickly taking in what was displayed on the screen. She remembered Rick's instructions and clicked on a menu, scrolling through until she found the file she needed. It filled the screen and she tapped a few keys with shaky hands. Daryl was staring at the office door, tense and poised to strike.
The sound of voices was getting closer from behind the door.
"Hurry up," he hissed.
"I am, I am!" Beth whispered. But the screen was still loading, taking what felt like forever to show the results of her search. "Crap—it's lagging."
"I had 'im lookin' up SUVs, shouldn't that make it faster to find?"
"He was looking at open vehicles, not the ones that are rented—"
Merle appeared right beside her, causing her to jump in surprise. His eyes were wide and he kept glancing at the office door. "I couldn't do it, blondie—couldn't keep 'em distracted. I'ono what happened, but they're comin' back, so hurry the fuck up!"
"It's not loading!" She hissed, nearly brought to tears by panic and fear. She clicked the mouse furiously, urging the computer to respond.
The doorknob of the office door was beginning to turn. Merle disappeared.
Daryl grunted out, "Time fer Plan B."
Beth looked at him quizzically—what Plan B? They hadn't made one!—but she was quickly distracted by the need to make a mad dash back to the other side of the desk before Gareth pushed the door open.
And just as the door opened and Gareth stepped out, followed by an older woman that could only be his mother, Daryl grabbed at his own chest and dropped to his knees on the floor a few feet away from the front of the desk, right in the middle of the lobby of Terminus Car Rental. He let out a strangled groan of pain and Beth rushed over to him.
"Holy—what's going on?!" Gareth cried, racing past the desk entirely and straight towards Daryl and Beth. His mother followed him, a look of confusion on her aging face.
Daryl only had to give Beth a single meaningful look with his eyes in the midst of his dramatic act for her to understand. Play along.
"Oh my god!" She wailed, forced tears filling her eyes as she knelt down and held Daryl by the arms, pretending to be terrified. "My husband! Please, help him! I think it's his heart!"
"Oh, Jesus! Okay," Gareth's mother said—Beth caught a glimpse of her name badge, which read: Mary. She rushed over and knelt down to grab Daryl by the arm and ease him to the floor. "It'll be okay, I used to be a nurse, I can help—ma'am, you need to call nine-one-one. Gareth! Run back to the office, grab your dad's nitroglycerin pills from my desk! Top drawer!"
"Christ! O-okay!" Gareth exclaimed as he turned on his heel and sprinted to the office door, disappearing behind it once again.
"I don't—we don't carry cell phones!" Beth lied, her forced tears beginning to fall freely down her cheeks. She was channeling her high school theatre days rather successfully in the heat of the moment.
Mary was completely focused on Daryl now, struggling to keep his head up off the floor while he groaned loudly in pain and pretended to be on the brink of losing consciousness. She waved towards the desk, where the computer sat, and instructed, "Behind the desk, next to the computer—there's a phone, use that one! Hurry! He needs an ambulance!"
"Oh my god, thank you!" Beth sobbed, racing over to the desk and stepping behind it.
She grinned as soon as she saw that the page had finally loaded on the computer screen. Mary was too distracted with talking to Daryl, begging him to stay awake and calling out for Gareth to hurry the hell up, to notice Beth typing on the computer rather than picking up the phone.
This time, it only took her a couple of seconds. The results finally appeared for the license plate she'd seen in her vision. She grabbed a block of Post-It notes and ripped one off, grabbing a pen and jotting down the name with a trembling hand. Then she stuffed the note into her pocket and closed out of the menu displayed on the computer monitor. Just in time for the office door to open and Gareth to step out. He didn't seem to notice her, so she followed after him and back to Daryl.
Gareth was handing the bottle of pills over and Mary was taking them frantically, and during that split-second, Daryl opened his eyes and looked up at Beth. She gave him a nod and he smiled.
Before Mary could even get the pill bottle open, Daryl was letting out another groan and sitting up, jumping to his feet. Mary and Gareth reeled, staring in shock.
"We'd better go," Daryl said simply, reaching out for Beth.
She took his hand and they practically raced to the front door while Mary and Gareth called after them, "What—what're you doing?! What the hell—"
Their voices drifted away behind them as Beth and Daryl jogged hand-in-hand down the sidewalk and away from Terminus Car Rental. Rick had parked farther down at the end of the block, and by the time they reached the sheriff's car, they were laughing. They hopped in as fast as they could, slamming their doors shut and fastening their seatbelts.
Rick sat up to attention and looked at them quizzically. "Did you—"
"We had to go with Plan B, but we did it!" Beth said triumphantly.
"Plan B—?"
"We need ta get the hell outta here 'fore they decide to follow us an' report yer ass," Daryl ordered. "Drive, man!"
Rick hurriedly started up the engine and pulled out into the street. "Say no more."
Once Beth and Daryl had caught their breaths, and Rick had put a few blocks between them and Terminus Car Rental, the sheriff looked over at Daryl curiously.
"Do I even wanna know what Plan B consisted of?" He asked, glancing at Beth in the rearview mirror.
She couldn't help but giggle. Daryl turned to Rick and said, "'Member how ya said I'm a bad liar?"
"Yeah…"
"Well, eat yer words, 'cause I deserve a goddamn Oscar fer that performance."
Rick laughed, dumbfounded, and while Daryl began explaining what took place with Mary and Gareth, Merle reappeared next to Beth in the backseat. Her smile fell and she shot him a scowl, though he was grinning smugly.
"That went well," he remarked sarcastically.
She lowered her voice, glaring at him, and asked, "What the hell happened to you? We had a plan, why'd you go an' screw it up? Don't you want us ta find your murderer?"
Merle frowned and furrowed his brow. "I didn't screw nothin' up, y'all made it work, didn'tcha? Shit. I did what I could."
"Did you even turn off the security cameras like we asked?"
"Yes! And I fuckin' distracted 'em—"
"Once! You were s'posed ta keep 'em distracted for at least a few minutes. Why didn't you jus' throw some more crap around in their back room?"
His frown deepened and he glanced away, almost ashamed. "'Cause I… couldn't."
Beth blinked. "Couldn't?"
"You got cum in yer ears or somethin'? Did I fuckin' stutter?"
"You could cause all that mayhem at the Sheriff's Department, but you couldn't keep a couple of strangers occupied for—"
"You talkin' to Merle? What the hell happened?" Daryl had craned his head around from the front seat, gazing back at Beth. Rick was glancing back at her as well, visibly intrigued by her quiet conversation with the other side of the empty backseat.
She couldn't even be bothered to feel embarrassed by the fact that she'd been caught audibly talking to a ghost in front of Rick and Daryl. Her adrenaline was still running high from their little mission. She shot Merle another scathing glare, but he just shrugged and proceeded to pull out a cigarette and light it between his lips.
"That's what I was tryin' to figure out," she explained. "He claims he couldn't distract 'em long enough."
"Please tell me he still managed to turn off the cameras," Rick said.
"He says he did."
"I did!" Merle snapped, waving a dismissive hand in her direction. "Not my fault y'all were standin' 'round, finger-poppin' each other's assholes—"
"We weren't finger-popping each other's assholes! Did you not see me tryin' to work as fast as I could at that damn computer?!"
Rick's eyes went wide, but Daryl just snorted and shook his head.
"Sorry, what was that now?" Rick asked.
"'S jus' Merle," Daryl muttered to the sheriff, as though that were more than enough explanation.
"So why couldn't you do more? What does that mean?" Beth insisted, glaring across the seat at Merle even while he pretended to ignore her.
He merely shrugged and took a drag off his cigarette. "I'ono. Pushed one thing over, made a helluva clatter, then it just… stopped. Tried ta make a mess, but I couldn't touch nothin'. That's that. No use dwellin' on it, y'all got the fuckin' info ya needed. Let's jus' move on already, princess."
She stared back at him, furiously indignant, but bit back the insults that wanted to spew forth.
He was right—no point in dwelling on it now. They had what they needed for the time being, and daylight was burning.
Daryl and Rick were watching her warily from the rearview mirror. She let out a deep sigh and shook her head, then she reached into her pocket and extracted the Post-It note.
Rick started, "So…?"
"I dunno," Beth muttered. "I'll worry about his incapabilities later. We got The Governor's name, and I wrote it down just in case."
"So what is it?" Daryl asked eagerly.
"Anybody we mighta heard of?" Rick asked.
"Doubt it," she said, unfolding the bright yellow Post-It and gazing down at her own shaky handwriting. Then she reached forward and handed it over the seat to Daryl.
He took it and squinted down at the writing. He frowned and grunted.
"Brian F. Blake," he read aloud.
They were all silent for a moment. Then Rick made a thoughtful humming sound, slowing and stopping at an intersection as the light turned red.
"Blake… Why does that sound familiar?" He mused.
"Pretty common name," Daryl suggested.
"I had a teacher in middle school named Mr. Blake," Beth remarked. "But he was really old, and he died before I graduated…"
Rick began stroking his chin, quietly pondering the name. Daryl was chewing on his thumbnail, staring down at the Post-It in his hand like it might reveal more information.
Beth looked over at Merle expectantly and waited for him to turn his head and meet her intense gaze. When he finally did, he blew a cloud of smoke towards her and scowled.
"What?" He snapped.
She raised her eyebrows. "That name doesn't sound familiar?"
He scoffed and turned back to the window. "I already told you, my pa wouldn't give up no names. Brian Blake sounds 'bout as familiar to me as The Governor."
An idea popped into her head and she quickly looked back to Rick and Daryl. "Wait—how d'we know he didn't use a fake name to rent the car?"
"'Cause it ain't possible," Rick replied. "Gotta have ID, and usually a credit card that matches it. If it's a fake name… it'd have ta be somebody he's close to. An identity that was easy to steal."
Daryl piped up, "Or somebody he's killed."
Beth gasped. "What—you think?" She turned to Rick. "Is that… possible?"
Rick sighed, resituating his hands on the steering wheel and offering her an uncertain glance in the rearview mirror. "There's a lotta possibilities here. Wouldn't be the first time I've seen somebody steal a deceased person's identity. But we can't confirm anything till we get back to the station. I got access to a couple databases, I can see what comes up when I search the name."
"If he went to prison," Daryl said. "Must mean he's got a criminal record, don't see why he wouldn't—"
He paused and began coughing, turning his head and coughing into his arm for a long second. Then he cleared his throat, shrugging his shoulders and resituating in the passenger seat. "Sorry, I—" He started coughing again, louder and harder, gasping for breath in between.
"Shit, you alrigh'?" Rick asked, looking over at Daryl with concern.
The living Dixon continued coughing, a horrible wet sound coming from the back of his throat and rendering him incapable of speech. His face was turning bright red and he began waving his hand, motioning desperately for Rick to pull over while he struggled to catch his breath.
Beth unclicked her seatbelt and leaned forward, reaching over the back of the seat to grasp Daryl's shoulder. "Daryl, are you okay?! D'you need water?" He shook his head, still coughing, and she told Rick, "Pull over! I think he's chokin' on something!"
Merle was at attention now, leaning forward and surveying the scene worriedly. "What the hell's wrong with 'im?!"
"Christ man, breathe!" Rick exclaimed, hurriedly pulling over to the side of the street and parking the car.
Daryl was still coughing as he opened the passenger side door and stumbled out onto the sidewalk, doubled-over, hacking and gasping, one arm grasping at his ribs as he struggled for breath. Beth and Rick jumped out of the car and hurried over to him.
"That ain't no fuckin' smoker's cough!" Merle cried out from behind Beth. "Call a goddamn ambulance 'fore he dies on this sidewalk, Beth!"
Rick positioned himself behind Daryl and wrapped his arms around his middle. "I'm gonna do the Heimlich, jus' try ta relax, Daryl!"
Daryl shook his head and shoved Rick off of him, stepping forward. He stumbled over his own feet and fell to his knees. Beth hurried forward and grabbed him by the shoulders, offering support while he leaned forward and placed both hands flat on the sidewalk, his coughing turning into loud hacking and retching. Rick stood by helplessly, completely baffled.
"Is he chokin' on something? He wasn't even eatin' anything!" He said.
"I don't know!" Beth cried, tears of panic filling her eyes as she watched Daryl's face turning from red to purple. She began to fumble for her phone with one hand, prepared to dial 911.
Then he gave one more hacking cough, doubling over in pain, and something spewed forward from his mouth. It landed on the sidewalk before him with a loud splat!
He gave a few more coughs, cleared his throat, and leaned back, panting and slowly catching his breath. His face was returning to normal color, but his eyes were still watery and he was shaking.
"Jesus, what the fuck is that?!" Rick exclaimed.
Merle's jaw dropped. "Holy…"
Beth was still clutching Daryl by the shoulders, focused on rubbing a soothing hand over his back as he inhaled and exhaled, but she turned her head and looked down to see what had escaped from Daryl's throat. She grimaced.
It was a thick, black, tar-like substance. She couldn't say she'd ever seen anything like it before, except maybe in movies. And realizing that Daryl had coughed it up made her nauseous. She looked away quickly and back to Daryl to find him staring down at the unknown goop, an expression of fear and confusion on his face.
"Jesus fuckin' tits," Merle mumbled, stepping forward and gazing down with wide eyes. "Are y'all seein' what I'm seein'?"
"Possible cancer?" Beth snapped without thinking. She hadn't meant to say it out loud, but as soon as it escaped, her stomach dropped.
Please don't have cancer, she silently prayed.
"Nah," Rick said, assuming she was talking to him. "That… that ain't cancer, Beth. That ain't even human."
Daryl was still panting heavily on his knees, clearing his throat and staring wordlessly at the thing he'd just hacked up.
"He's right," Merle said, his voice low and ominous. Fearful. "It's a symbol. Look at it, blondie. It's…"
He trailed off and Beth forced herself to look back at the substance on the ground, fighting back another wave of nausea when she saw it. But it only took her about half a second to realize what Merle was talking about.
The goopy black tar had expelled itself onto the sidewalk and formed a symbol. A very dark and familiar symbol that resembled some kind of demonic compass.
The words escaped her lips on a breath full of dread: "Papa Legba."
to be continued…
