A/N Thank you all so much! Somebody snatched Beth away from that gross creature just in time. In this chapter she learns a little about the man who saved her. Enjoy!

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He moves quickly, loading another arrow in the crossbow and cocking the weapon. Before Beth is able to fully grasp what's happening the arrow is flying over her shoulder and into the head of another of those things.

More and more of the creatures are attracted by the commotion as he grabs her forearm and yells, "Run!" She wills her legs to do what he ordered and they're off. They run for what feels like miles through the city, staying mostly to side streets, not stopping until they reach a residential street.

There are only four of those things shuffling along the mostly quiet sidewalk and with his crossbow and arrows at the ready the man makes short work of the frightening creatures. She notices he never leaves an arrow behind, pulling each out of the receiving creature's head and wiping the gross goop on his pant leg. He's like some sort of medieval warrior.

There are more creatures. It seems there are always more, but these are trapped in cars and frantically clawing at the windows. It's a horrific scene.

He's wary and watchful at all times and his bearing is fierce, like he's waiting to do battle. He's certainly well-equipped with the tools of battle. In addition to the menacing crossbow there's a huge knife in a sheath on his hip, and a pistol tucked in the waistband of his pants.

Whoever and whatever he may be, she owes this warrior her life. That doesn't mean she's not scared or intimidated by him, she is, but she's also alive.

He's dressed…well she's not sure what he's dressed like. He's not even wearing a real shirt, just a tight-fitting men's army-green undershirt that happens to be exposing his bare arms. She tries not to notice his biceps, or his forearms, or that his shoulders are broad and his waist is narrow. Tries yes, but it's impossible not to notice, the muscles are impressive.

Once his arrows are back in their quiver the warrior's knife is in his hand. He stops long enough to take a look around, gauging the situation. It appears the people on this street had packed up to evacuate the city. They were in their cars and ready to go, then whatever terrible thing is happening, happened to them.

She watches as he opens the door of a car parked in the driveway of a nice little house. The thing inside immediately begins thrashing it's arms, growling and coming at him. He doesn't hesitate to stab the creature in the head and it dies instantly, hopefully it's dead for good. He pushes it aside to grab the keys from the ignition and pops open the trunk.

Inside the trunk is a large canvas duffel bag and he yanks clothes out of it, discarding them as he quickly begins filling the duffel bag with the supplies in the trunk. Canned goods, jars of peanut butter and of jelly and bottles of water.

He's just taking whatever he wants.

She can't simply ignore his actions. She has to say something, "What are you doing? That's not your food. You're stealing."

He snorts dismissively and growls, "Oh yeah? Is that what ya think Miss Goodie Two Shoes? Ya think these dead folks are gonna miss this stuff? Try ta think of it as me helpin' em out." He shakes his head and continues doing what he was doing.

He has a point and she has no answer, then he snarls, "Things are different now. Ya gotta get what ya can, while ya can. Grab a bag and start fillin' it up."

She doesn't have the strength or the inclination to argue with him. She picks a car with only one former person inside, she's not sure she can stab even one and she's absolutely sure she can't handle two or three at a time. Her hand is on the car door when he hollers, "Ya gotta stab em in the brain. That's the only way ta kill em. The brain."

"Oh, okay," that's what she was doing wrong. She's not sure she'll be able to pull this off, but then it's amazing how easy it is to plunge a knife into the head of a creature who wants to eat you. Still, she gags as she pulls the knife free. Unlike him she doesn't wipe it on her pant leg, she wipes it on the creature's pant leg.

She grabs the keys from the ignition, hurries to open the trunk and when sees all the canned food and bottled water, she calls to the man, "I can't possibly carry all this."

"No one expects ya to. Just take what ya can and make it fast." He shakes his head, "All this noise is gonna call in more a them slimy sumbitches. Hurry n let's beat it."

She questions him, "Is it really necessary to take so much? I mean, once we get out of the city won't everything be okay?"

His brow furrows and his eyes squint, "You serious girl? You think dead people are just wanderin' around Atlanta, nowhere else? I got bad news for ya, these filthy bastards are everywhere. C'mon now, time's awastin', let's get."

Her heart sinks, but of course he's right. It was ridiculous of her to hope it would be any other way. Why would this horrifying sickness, or whatever it is, be confined to Atlanta?

The running's tougher now that they're carrying heavy canned goods, but she's making an effort to stick as close to him as possible. She's quickly come to realize she has no idea how to navigate this place on her own, she needs him.

He seems to be trying to stay off main streets as much as possible. They creep through backyards and even slip into someone's house to hide while a huge pack of creatures shuffles by. She's afraid to ask him, he seems so grouchy, but it's an emergency, "Can I use the potty?"

He snorts, "The potty? Hell girl, I ain't gonna stop ya, but you're gonna have ta get used ta doin' that stuff country style, outside. That's about ta be the only style we got left." He shrugs and adds, "Ya might wanna grab ya a pillow too, I only got one back at my place."

A pillow? Back at his place? Oh no, is he thinking that they'll be sleeping together? Is that the payment he'll expect for saving her life and helping her get out of the city?

For now, it does feel like an emergency and she hurries in the bathroom. It's a small quarter bath and she's glad, there's nowhere for anything to be hiding. She shuts and locks the door because…well because. She can finally let loose of some pent up tears as she hurries to do what she has to do. She forgets there's no more working plumbing and attempts to flush. For some reason, the fact that a simple thing like flushing a toilet is no longer possible gets her emotional all over again.

He whisper yells, "C'mon, it's gonna start gettin' dark. Dark is more dangerous." She doesn't argue, he knows far more about what's going on than she. She hurries out of the bathroom, but not before stuffing what's left of the roll of toilet paper and bar of soap in her backpack.

As they hurry along reality hits her again, this is her life now. Running, stealing food from dead people, and scavenging toilet paper. Oh my gawd.

And what about later? Will she be forced to trade sex with a barely civilized man in exchange for his protection?

They continue to encounter creatures along the way but he quickly dispatches them and she's actually proud to put down a couple of them herself, especially when the man seems to give her an appreciative nod of his head.

They end up in a large storage rental facility where she follows him down a drive to one of many big orange overhead doors. It's very similar to a garage door and is secured with a huge padlock. He pulls a key from his pocket, quickly opens the lock and yanks the door up, "C'mon, c'mon."

She hurries in and just that fast the door rolls back down and they're plunged into total darkness. "Hang on," he says, and she hears the door's footbrakes slam shut.

It's just a moment later when a light comes on and she sees he's holding a big battery powered camping lantern, "I got more light in the truck."

The truck isn't what she would think of as a truck at all. It's a big utility van. She is pleasantly surprised by the look of it. It's much nicer than what she expected this man would have. With that thought she immediately shames herself. She has no right to judge him that way. Still, it's honest.

She's no car buff, cars are Shawn and Maggie's thing, but she thinks it's about a ten year old Chevy. The exterior is not one bit fancy or painted up like some vans she's seen. It's just painted a deep beige, that's it.

There are heavy duty racks mounted on top and secured to the racks are a ladder and a couple of hard plastic cargo boxes. He notices her noticing them and shrugs, "I'm kinda surprised they ain't been stole yet. I guess it's cuz it's too high and people ain't that desperate yet. They will be. Anyway, I don't keep nuthin' on the racks I can't get by without."

She appreciates the information, but mostly she's surprised. Those are the most words she's heard him string together.

He opens the sliding door on the side of the van and she gasps, my gawd it's like a small home. She supposes it is home for him. This isn't something he bought like this. No way. The van's walls and the floor are all lined with real wood paneling and there are built-in cabinets and drawers, and there's a bed. A single bed.

The mattress rests on what resembles a huge rectangular wood box. The box has four drawer handles and she watches as he pulls one of the large drawers open. There are a few canned items in the drawer already, and he adds the ones from the sack he carried.

He closes it and opens the one next to it, filling it with more goods from the duffel bag he carried, except for the water. He seems to have a system and sure enough, he opens a third drawer and she sees the gallon jugs of water lying on their sides. He adds the smaller bottles they scavenged to the drawer. The final drawer holds some airtight containers and he absentmindedly explains they're full of dry goods like beans, rice, sugar and some powdered milk. "I got coffee in the cabinet above the bed."

"Wow, how many years have you been living in this thing?"

She'd swear she can see the hair go up on the back of his neck and his voice has reverted to the grouchy snarl when he responds, "Yeah, I guess that's what ya think, huh? A guy like me? Some redneck asshole crashin' in a van in a storage unit."

She's mortified by his response. She had no intention of offending him, "No, no I didn't mean it that way at all. This is, well it's really something wonderful. Honestly, I'm impressed."

He seems to calm down a little as he tosses "her" pillow up on the narrow bed and shrugs as he mentions, "I got me a house down in Valdosta, or at least I did til the world ended. This here is my huntin' truck."

She's not sure what she should say beyond, "Well I'm grateful you have this. Did you do all this work yourself?"

Now he seems embarrassed, he doesn't even look at her when he sort of answers. He points and says, "Yeah, in that cupboard there I got what I need ta make more arrows n bolts. I'ma need plenty for all these walkers."

Now she's confused, "Walkers? Bolts?"

"Bolts, arrows, pretty much the same. Bolts don't have feathers and they're a little shorter is all." He shrugs, "Walkers are them dead things."

"Why do you call them walkers?"

He sounds testy again, "That's what they do, ain't it? Walk around all the time? I guess I could call em eaters."

She nearly smiles, "No, I like walkers better. Walkers is good."

It's her turn to change the subject. There are several other built-in cabinets and she points to one and asks, "What's in there?"

"Lotsa batteries, flashlights, matches and I got some Coleman fuel canisters bungeed down. Fuel for the cookstove and a couple of the lanterns."

The top of the cabinet serves as a kitchen counter. She notices he has a lip built around the top of it to prevent things from sliding off when the van's in motion. She also notes the old metal percolator, a couple of tin coffee mugs, and a Coleman stove.

There's a wooden box built at one end of the space with a hinged lid, and he points to it, "That's a bucket toilet in there. Just for when we're locked in this storage room, or in emergencies or in the dead of night. Otherwise, we go outside."

"Oh." She doesn't know what else to say about that revelation.

It's more of a remark than a question when he says, "I'm hungry, you hungry?"

She barely had time to think about it all day, but with the mention of the word she's suddenly faint. She begins to lose her balance and he grabs her arm, "Hey now. I guess ya must be." Then he looks terribly uncomfortable and orders, "Sit down somewhere."

She'd like to lay down on the bed and rest, but no, she's not getting any closer to the bed than she has to. There's what looks like a homemade toolbox and she sits herself down on it.

He pulls out a drawer and very unceremoniously tosses her a bottle of water. His grouchy side appears to have returned. She doesn't feel like poking the bear so she doesn't bother to point out to him he could have simply handed it to her. She gets the packet of moist towelettes from her backpack and wipes her hands, not missing the look he gives her. At least he doesn't say anything.

She loosens the cap and takes a long drink from what is essentially a bottle of hot water. She's too thirsty to care about all those dire facebook warnings about drinking hot water from a plastic bottle. Those were worries for the old world.

He snarls, "Slow down, you're gonna cramp up. How long's it been since ya had anythin' ta eat or drink?"

"I had water this morning. I ate the last of the food yesterday, two saltines."

"Here, this'll hold ya over." Again, he simply tosses something toward her. She looks at the package, it's a granola bar.

"Ya look like the kinda chick who eats that shit."

"Well as a matter of fact, I do. Is there something wrong with granola?"

"Nope, it's just fine if there ain't nuthin' good left ta eat."

Oh my God, he's some kind of prehistoric throwback. When he was telling her about the van she almost thought he was going to nicen up. That didn't last long. She asks, "What do you like to eat?"

"Meat. Any kinda meat. Beef, pork, venison, rabbit, squirrel."

She's not at all shocked.

He grabs a tall fat can of something, she doesn't question him. It's his food and his place and he's sharing. Besides, she's so hungry, shoot, she'd eat a squirrel herself. He dumps it in a pot and sets it on the Coleman stove, gets two tin plates from the plate rack on the wall and forks from the drawer.

When the food is hot enough to suit him he ladles a huge portion onto his plate, sits down on the edge of the bed and scoops up a forkful. Just before he shoves it in his mouth he looks over at her and says, "Don't just sit there. Ya better fix ya a plate before I eat it all."

She bites her tongue, reminding herself for the billionth time that day, this man saved her life and he's feeding her. As much as she hates to admit it, she needs him a lot more than he needs her. Really? He doesn't need her at all. Those are the facts so she's not going to tell him what a rude jerk he is.

She walks the two steps to the stove and dishes herself up a small portion of what she now knows is canned beef stew. Gross. Never has she eaten canned stew. Mama would faint at the thought, but Mama's not here and now is not the time to be picky. It occurs to her then, the time for being picky may never come again.

She's not going to sit next to him on the bed, that's for darn sure. She sits back down on the toolbox and takes a small bite. It doesn't taste so bad when you're starving. She softens, "Thank you for the food. I've been hungry for days."

His voice is softer too, "Well take it slow, that's best when ya ain't eaten in a while."

He shovels in another couple of bites then asks, "So where the hell did ya think you were goin'?"

She swallows and answers, "Home. I've been visiting a friend here in Atlanta, she went to look for food about a week ago but never came back. When I ran out of food completely and there was no more running water, I knew I couldn't wait any longer. I had to leave. I was just hoping I could make it home to my parent's farm. "

Then she asks, "What about you? You said you lived in Valdosta, why are you in Atlanta?"

"Lookin' for my dumb ass brother. He was runnin' some kinda scam up this way and I thought maybe I could find him and we'd team up. I been here four days and I ain't had any luck. I'm gonna give it one more day, then I'm outta here."

"Why would you leave this? It seems so safe."

He gives her a wary look and shrugs, "Yeah, for now. But I got a feelin' what's left of the government will probably bomb this place, probably bomb every big city to try'n kill as many walkers as they can. Whatever. I ain't gonna be here ta find out."

She's wondering, hoping, maybe he'll offer to take her with him. Maybe he'll help her get to the farm. If he has no other plans of where to go, why not?

He knocks the wind out of her sails when he says, "I can take ya that far, get ya outta the city so you can be on your way. You're entitled ta that food ya carried with ya too."

"Oh, okay." It seems pretty clear to her; if that's as far as he's taking her then she has two days left to live.

Once they're done eating and the dishes are taken care of he announces, "Been a long ass day. I'm ready ta call it a night."

It feels like her heart has stopped, uh oh, she's sure he expects they'll sleep together. What's she going to do if he insists? Threaten to call a cop?

She's surprised when he says, "You go on n take the bed. I got a sleepin' bag I can layout."

"Are you sure? It's your bed." Holy cow, not only doesn't he want what she thought he would want, he's being nice and letting her have his bed. He really is hard to figure.

"Just take it before I change my mind."

"Thank you." There's no response. She lays down on the bed, and it never felt better to just be able to lie down.

He spreads a sleeping bag on the floor, grabs his pillow and lays on top of the bag. Then the lantern goes off and everything is so dark.

She can't help herself, so much has happened today and things seem to change by the minute. She was about to get eaten alive, then he saved her, then he brought her here and fed her, and in the next breath he pretty much tells her he's going to drop her off on the edge of town and abandon her there. When that happens she's sure she has zero chance of survival.

She tries to muffle the sound of her crying by burying her face in a stranger's stolen pillow.

Her crying continues for a couple of minutes before he just can't take it any longer, "What the hell ya cryin' about girl?"

She tries to keep her voice from shaking, but she's honest with him, "I…I'm scared. I..I don't think I can make it to the farm alone. I'm sure I won't survive out there on my own."

He's sure of that too. It's quiet until he responds, "If ya promise ta stop cryin' I'll take ya home ta mommy and daddy, okay? Now be quiet and let's get some sleep." Fuck him.

"Really? Oh, thank you um…I don't even know your name. I'm Beth."

He snorts back, "I'm Daryl. Now be quiet so I can get some sleep."

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A/N I hope you enjoyed meeting Daryl and that you'll leave a comment. There's a chapter photo, complete with a peek inside Daryl's van, on my tumblr blogs gneebee and bethylmethbrick. I'll be back next Thursday with more of Love's Long Road when we'll get a little more of Daryl's POV. I hope you'll be here too. Until then remember, I Love Ya Large! xo gneebee