i'm runnin' underground with the moles

It took even longer for Beth to get to sleep once she had the thought of the "seeking Jesus" reply on her mind. At first, she expected an email to appear almost immediately. But minutes passed, and then hours, and then she gave up anticipating anything else for the night. Based on the sounds coming from outside her bedroom door, she figured she must've finally dozed off not long after Daryl and Malachi went to bed.

She slept restlessly. Bad dreams visited her fleetingly, and she would wake up every couple of hours to check the clock as well as her phone, then roll over and go right back to sleep. But when morning came, she awoke for the last time to hear the shower running in the bathroom next door and see faint light coming from beneath her bedroom door. The clock read 7:14. She checked her phone again but found no new notifications. Her eyelids weren't quite as heavy this time, so she sat up and stretched, listening as the shower next door was shut off.

She rubbed her eyes and picked up her phone once more, unplugging it from the charger and scrolling through the emails from the night before. She checked all the timestamps and tried to predict when this person might reply. But there was no telling, and that drove her crazy.

The screen suddenly changed in her hand and the phone began vibrating, making Beth jump. She realized someone was calling her – something that had never happened before. It was an Atlanta number, and for a second, fear struck her heart as she thought someone had found her. But as it continued to vibrate, waiting for her to press either Answer or Ignore, the logical part of her eliminated any realistic possibility that someone had found her. Besides, why would they call her instead of just ambushing her? And right after she figured that out, a memory came to her: Irma and Dale in the restaurant, when she'd given Irma her phone number and promised to text that she was safe.

Had she ever texted them? Beth couldn't even remember at this point, the last week was such a blur of emotions and drastic changes. She'd gotten so caught up in finding a place to stay and meeting Daryl and laying low that she'd completely blanked it from her mind to send Irma even the briefest of texts to assure that she was alive and well.

Beth scolded herself inwardly and hit Answer, putting the phone up to her ear and hesitantly speaking, "Hello?"

A woman's voice came from the other end, "Rosie?"

The breath Beth had been holding released from her lungs and she smiled to herself, replying, "Hey, Irma. I'm so sorry I never texted, I've been so busy – "

Irma interrupted, sounding just as relieved as Beth, although for different reasons, "It's okay, it's alright now, I'm just glad you're safe. I've been so worried! I think I must've sent you about a dozen text messages. Dale says we don't have unlimited messaging so he's a little upset about that, but oh well. Where are you staying?"

Beth got a confused look on her face, wondering how she hadn't noticed any texts from Irma. She put the phone on speaker as she answered the old woman's questions, navigating the phone menu to find her texting app for the first time. "Yeah, I dunno what happened, I guess – I guess I didn't get the notifications for any of your messages. I'm sorry. I'm lookin' through them right now… yeah, no I didn't even know I had these. I woulda sent you a message, but I kinda uh… Well I had some difficulties but I got everythin' figured out now. I found this nice man to stay with. He has a little kid, he works all day, and I have my own room. He's nice. He's from Georgia, too."

Irma breathed another sigh of relief, "Oh, honey, be careful trustin' people out there. But I'm glad you're good. He sounds like a nice person. And if he's from Georgia, I reckon he was raised right."

Beth nodded and smiled, even though Irma couldn't see her. "Yeah, I know. I'm bein' careful, don't worry. Did you and Dale leave the city yet?"

Irma chuckled, "Yeah, we did. And I also found what you left, missy…"

Beth couldn't help but smile wider. "Sorry, I know you didn't want me to but I had to. You guys deserve it."

"Well I just can't believe you got Dale to keep a secret from me for a whole day. That man is not a good liar," the older woman laughed. "But really, honey, it's so much... I nearly made him drive us back and find you to give it back."

"I'm glad you didn't. I don't need it, trust me," Beth assured. "I'm doin' great, and I'll be sure to text you back from now on. I just found my texting app and I guess I never set it up to show me any notifications so I never checked it. I changed it now, though."

Irma sounded less and less stressed as the conversation continued, and Beth found all the questions a bit annoying but still a pleasant feeling to know someone was worried about her. Or rather, worried about Rosie. She tried to keep their exchange short and the details to a minimum so she could hang up, finding phone conversations to be horribly uncomfortable. As much as she loved Irma, she wasn't sure how many more overprotective questions and lectures she could take this early in the morning.

A knock came from her bedroom door, and she was both glad to have an excuse to hang up and worried what Daryl might possibly want from her. She glanced over at the contacts and contact solution sitting on her nightstand and moved to put them in as quickly as possible while still holding the phone to her ear. Another knock came from the door.

"Just a second, I'm – indecent!" She called, putting her mouth back toward the phone and speaking to Irma, "Hey, I gotta go, my roommate is at the door so I gotta see what he needs. I'll text ya later, okay?"

"Oh – okay, hon, just be careful and stay safe. Talk t'ya later," Irma said hurriedly, taking the hint.

"Okay, bye," Beth said, blinking and adjusting the second contact in her eye as she finished putting it in. She hung up the phone and tossed it on the bed, grabbing her pants from the floor and slipping them on as she rushed to the door.

When she opened it, Daryl stood before her. He wore similar clothes as she'd seen him in the night before, but there was no fresh dirt or grease on them, and he was freshly showered and shaven. He spoke casually, "Yer up. Want breakfast?"

She looked him up and down questioningly but answered, "I'm… good right now. Thanks."

He nodded and Beth looked past him to see Malachi rustling around in the kitchen.

"Heard ya talkin' to somebody. Did I interrupt?" He asked.

She shook her head, lying, "Nah, I was just talkin' to - my brother. On the phone. He was just checkin' on me."

This seemed to make sense to Daryl and he nodded, explaining, "Well we're headin' out for the day after we eat. I'll leave a plate in the microwave if ya get hungry. I'll stop at the store on my way home tonight."

Beth nodded, unsure of why he was telling her this but guessing that he felt like he owed her for cooking the night before. She didn't know what else to say, suddenly finding herself feeling awkward in front of him, so she answered, "Cool."

Daryl raised his eyebrows as if he were expecting more, "Need anythin'?

She shook her head, knowing it was a lie but refusing to ask him to buy her anything. She would just be glad to have groceries in the kitchen. "Nah, I'm good. Thanks."

"Alright. I might be a little late since I'm stoppin' off. Think y'could do me a favor?" He asked.

Beth furrowed her brow, not expecting this. She nodded, waiting to discover what he was going to ask of her.

"Since I'm doin' the shopping," he started, reminding her that he was also doing something for her, "Carol's got a class with her daughter t'go to tonight, so she's gotta bring the kid back at six. I'll try t'be home by six-fifteen. Think ya can keep him company for a few minutes this evening?"

Beth nodded, "In that case, think you could pick me up a couple things?"

Daryl smirked, "'Course. Make a list."

He fetched the pad of paper and pen from the bar of the kitchen and brought it to her, then walked away to finish helping Malachi eat as well as grabbing a quick bite for himself. Beth turned back in to her bedroom and sat down on the bed, writing out a list of all the things she could think of that she needed from the store. She wrote down all the toiletries she lacked, deciding against adding any grocery requests of her own. She had faith that Daryl would pick out plenty of ingredients that she could work with during all her free time cooped up inside. But then a thought occurred, and she knew it wasn't really like her to want such a thing, but she excused it by telling herself that she was just being Rosie now because it was too dangerous to be the same old Beth. At the very bottom of her list, she scrawled in her curvy handwriting, "Peach Schnapps."

She realized he'd need money to buy these things for her, and she wasn't quite sure what prices in the city were like nowadays, or if the extra fifty dollars she'd given him the other day would suffice. She glanced out the open bedroom door, seeing Daryl's back as he moved about the kitchen. He seemed occupied, but she tiptoed over and swung the door mostly shut anyway, then rushed over to hurriedly retrieve some cash from the bag under her bed. Just as she was standing back up, Daryl pushed the door back open to peer inside and check that she had the list for him. She gave him a casual smile, as if she hadn't just been leaning down on the floor to pull out a wad of money, then approached him and handed back the paper and pen. He took them without a word, and she reached out once more to hand over a wad of crisp bills. He took them hesitantly, giving her a quizzical look.

"I kinda ran out of a lotta stuff, so I wanna make sure you have enough for it," she explained as he stuffed the money into his pocket and skimmed through her list.

"Peach Schnapps? Thought ya didn't drink?" Daryl said, looking up to meet her gaze with even more questions. But she noticed the playful smirk that was threatening to appear.

She shrugged, her cheeks heating up. "Just somethin' to help me sleep. You got a better idea?"

"Yeah, how 'bout the whiskey I already got," he gestured behind him towards the kitchen.

Beth shook her head, "It's okay, but I wanna try somethin' different. 'Sides, I don't wanna drink up all your stock."

He grunted out a half-laugh. "Right. Well, I'll find somethin' better than some damn Peach Schnapps. I can't condone somebody drinkin' that shit in my house."

Now it was her turn to laugh, but she agreed anyway, "Okay, I'll trust your judgement."

Daryl turned his head and called for Malachi, "Hey, c'mere!"

Malachi dashed over, his tiny feet nearly tripping over themselves as he stopped at his dad's side and looked up with wide, expectant eyes, "Yeah?"

The older man gestured towards Beth, who looked down at Malachi and into his big, blue eyes, "Carol's gotta bring ya home a little early tonight, and I gotta stop at the store on the way home. Rosie's gonna hang out with ya for a few minutes till I get home tonight. Okay?"

The small, blond boy nodded, staring up at Beth with a hundred unasked questions on his face. "Okay, Dad."

Beth smiled at him and turned back to Daryl, who nodded with approval and said, "Alright, cool. We'll see ya tonight then."

She was about to say "okay" and bid them goodbye, but Malachi interrupted by turning to Daryl and asking, "Um, are we – are we still gonna uh, gonna go see Mom t'day?"

A shadow crossed Daryl's face and he glanced at Beth awkwardly, who blushed and tried to look away, pretending she hadn't heard the question. He answered his son in a hushed voice, "Yes, son, don't worry 'bout it. We can talk about it later."

He nudged the toddler to walk to the front door and prepare to leave, waving at Beth as if she hadn't just witnessed that exchange. "See ya later."

She nodded and waved weakly as she watched him lead his son to the door, and she retreated inside her room and closed her own door once she knew they were on their way out. She was still blushing, the feeling of hearing something she wasn't supposed to lingering around her. Daryl already had a way of making her feel inferior; his confidence was unwavering at times and he always peered down at her like he was still trying to narrow her down as he spoke to her. But for a few seconds, she'd felt like she'd just walked in on a private, family conversation that was none of her business. And it only sparked her curiosity even more. She scolded herself for being nosey, knowing that she had no logical reason to give two shits about this guy or his past. But what else did she have to do besides obsessively check the internet news sites and her email? Even though it didn't feel good to worry about someone else's life. She was raised to mind her own business, strictly. And God knew she had more than enough of her own to mind.

As she drifted back over to her bed, sitting down and picking up her phone, she wondered what Malachi had meant. It was pretty obvious that they were planning on visiting his mother's grave today, but why today? Was it her birthday or something? She also wondered if she should try to avoid Daryl when he came back home. Assumedly, today would not be a very good day for him and he might be moodier than usual. The last thing Beth needed was to feel even guiltier for bothering someone who was trying to grieve in peace. Should she just thank him for doing her shopping and hide in her room for the rest of the night? That might be the safest option after all.

Within seconds, all her thoughts of Daryl and Malachi had fled from her mind as the notification she'd been waiting for finally appeared before her eyes: One New Email from Unknown. She eagerly clicked it and read the short message, then reread it three more times for clarity. It said:

Reply with your phone number. You will receive a call from a blocked number tonight at exactly 5:43 PM. If you do not answer on the second ring, we will hang up and all communications between us will be destroyed. Do not take this call in a public place. Do not use any names or personal details.

Beth quickly typed out her reply, which was simply her phone number, and hit Send. She checked the clock only to be reminded that it wasn't even eight a.m. yet. Her heart raced in her chest. What would this person want after the phone call? Would she have to meet a total stranger somewhere? What if she had to go all the way back to Washington, D.C. to find them? This could be her only chance at a new identity. She needed this paperwork just as badly as she needed to stay out of Georgia. She was basically stuck without it. How much longer could she realistically keep Daryl in the dark? He was becoming friendlier and friendlier by the day, which was something she'd never expected, but it was in such a way that if she pushed him off, she'd seem suspicious and guilty of something. He'd pick up on it eventually. But she didn't know how long she could keep up the masquerade while she was carrying the weight of life in prison on her shoulders every waking moment.

She opened up the browser on her phone and absent-mindedly checked the news sites. The national news was still in the all clear for her family's story, and there didn't appear to be any more updates from Georgia or Atlanta. No news was the best news she could hope for at the moment. It had been nearly a week and no one was taking a closer look at the missing eighteen-year-old farm girl who'd murdered a cop? Thank God.

Beth tried to doze for a couple hours after Daryl and Malachi had left. But she was wide awake at this point, and her mind wouldn't stop going as the time seemed to tick by slower and slower in her anticipation of 5:43. She finally conceded and got up for the day, heading to the kitchen to find the lukewarm plate of breakfast that Daryl had left for her in the microwave. She ate it and had the remaining cup of coffee, which was also just barely warm. She glanced at the dishes, but chose to leave them for later. She'd gotten a rare urge to take a relaxing bath, hoping it might help to ease her mind.

The bathtub wasn't large, but it was roomy enough that Beth found herself able to stretch out and submerge most of her body underwater. She'd helped herself to a colorful bottle of bubble bath liquid that had Spider-Man's face on the front – assumedly belonging to Malachi. She turned the bottle to face away from her as she bathed, though. The superhero's intense stare made her uncomfortable.

With the bathroom door closed, most of the sounds that drifted around the apartment during the daytime were muted. The only light she'd left on was the dim vanity bulb above the mirror, leaving the tiled room in mostly shadows. She'd never really been afraid of the dark, though. She knew that the real horrors didn't stay hidden in the darkness.

The shower curtain was pulled halfway closed, leaving her with a view of the bathroom as she leaned her head back against the edge of the tub. The warm water and calm silence slowed her heartrate and breathing, and her muscles relaxed. She shut her eyes, barely able to feel the presence of the brown contacts anymore.

At first, it had been paragraphs. There were letters and notes and entire essays of questions, what if's, how could I's. She could barely keep track of them. But then they slowed. Her mind calmed just a bit, and then just a bit more, until the paragraphs turned into sentences. And the sentences turned into simple questions. Facts. Statements. And then answers. And she knew all the answers were there. Her faith told her that if she just looked and waited, the solution would always present itself. Eventually. But then, what faith was she supposed to have left?

In her heart, she knew that it was still real. She knew that her daddy still believed and still had faith in God and everything he spoke about in the church. Yes, they were doing unspeakable things. But what choice did they have? The church wasn't a lie… it was just a cover for something that had gotten out of hand. It became a tarp that was only meant to conceal something small, but it grew bigger and wider and created more hiding spots than they'd ever thought they'd need and they just kept letting it get bigger and bigger. They never second guessed it.

It was God's plan, her daddy would say. Everything happens for a reason. You just gotta keep your faith. She repeated these things to herself over and over. She firmly believed in everything they discussed at church each Sunday. But where was God when her faithful family needed help the most? She'd prayed for them to have a way out one day. Somehow, she told herself, we'll make it out of all this and then it'll just be a distant memory. God will give Daddy the answer he's been looking for, and we won't ever have to do anything illegal again. We won't have to worry. We won't have to keep all these secrets. Daddy has faith, so I have faith.

And then the next day, she'd go out and practice shooting guns with Maggie and Glenn. She'd gotten particularly good at target practice.

She truly believed that God was on her family's side at the end of the day. Yet she'd seen them doing so many things that would make God turn away in shame. But what choice did they have?

She reached up one hand lazily, the air cold on her wet skin. Her fingers touched the ring and crucifix that hung from her neck, breathing in deeply. Would her momma still want her to have faith, after all the hellfire that had been brought down upon their family? She'd had the same beliefs as her husband. She'd raised Beth to be good, despite all the bad things they had to do. And bless her, she tried to keep Beth as innocent as possible. It was only a matter of time once she was gone.

Beth was ten years old. Her body was small but her curiosity was large, and she'd gotten particularly good at sneaking around the house she'd grown up in. Sometimes it actually paid off, and she'd overhear her sixteen-year-old sister saying or doing something she wasn't supposed to, and then Beth could blackmail her all day. Or she'd catch her twelve-year-old brother cussing when Daddy just spanked him the day before for saying grown-up words – then he'd have to do her chores for a week!

But her momma kept getting after her for barging in on "adult conversations," even though she couldn't really tell the difference. She didn't understand why she couldn't listen to the adults from her church – the same ones who were working on her family's farm all day and having coffee with her daddy in the kitchen – when they'd come over for their evening meetings. She couldn't figure out what they were meeting for, because they weren't playing games or watching movies or even doing Bible Study. It wasn't many people back then, maybe a dozen or so. But they would all huddle in the living room and talk in hushed voices, some of them sounding angry. Beth was certain they were sharing secrets, maybe even talking trash on the kids. Or were they talking about sex stuff? She wondered if they knew that she was aware of more than they'd intended when it came to "making love." She'd found some of Maggie's Cosmopolitan magazines under her bed.

Tonight, though, the voices of her neighbors and family's friends were more strained than usual. She'd found a small, shadowed spot in the hallway where she could see most of the group, as well as hear them distinctly. She was supposed to be upstairs in bed, as she had been for the last two hours. But she could never get to sleep, especially when she heard the front door opening and closing repeatedly downstairs. She couldn't stop herself from sneaking downstairs and silently hiding in the hall.

Maggie was there, which seemed really unfair. Beth almost scoffed aloud but stopped herself when she spotted Shawn amongst the group, sitting close to their daddy. Anger boiled up inside her and she wanted to ask her parents why the hell Maggie and Shawn got to be in on the secret meeting while she was supposed to be in bed. But after a few minutes, she realized the faces of her siblings were pale and full of dread, and all the adults amongst them were staring at Hershel intently, completely straight-faced and serious, some of them fidgeting nervously as they all discussed something Beth couldn't comprehend. She wouldn't understand the contents of this particular conversation for years to come.

Maggie was always strong and brave. Beth had relied on her for that strength for years. The brunette had resented her baby sister at first, hesitant towards the idea of her beloved Daddy marrying a woman that was not her mother and would never be her mother, adopting a son that wasn't his, and then making a new baby girl with said not-mother. But as the years passed, Maggie grew out of it, and she grew attached to the little, blonde sister who followed her everywhere and idolized her every movement. None of them acted like half-siblings or step-family. They were all family, and that's all that mattered. But right now, the strong, confident brunette looked like she was questioning everything she knew about her family's convictions.

Shawn stood nearby, looking confused. Patricia, who'd been around for as long as Beth could remember, was kneeling down to the small boy's height and mouthing quiet words to him – words that Beth couldn't hear over her daddy's stern voice.

She'd heard her daddy talk about things she didn't understand a lot of times, but right now, the sentences were so random and complex that all she knew was that something called "the product" was really, really important. And there was a lot of talk about some kind of "growth." She tried to remember to look up a word called "discretion" in the Dictionary later, when she was back in her room. Her daddy used it a lot, and she couldn't recall learning it in Sunday School, regular school, or at church.

Her momma was there, too, sitting across from Hershel but leaning in closest to him. She looked like she wasn't enjoying hearing what Hershel was saying, but she knew it had to be said. Kind of like when she'd punish one of the kids. But somehow, Beth could sense it was a lot more serious.

"We, uh…" Her daddy let out a loud, heavy sigh. He sounded exhausted. "We just have no other option. Without this income, we'd have to sell all the livestock, includin' the horses, and lay off mostly everyone. I may as well sell most of the land at that point. And when that happens, I can't guarantee who will have it and what they'll do to us… We owe too many people, legally and otherwise. Some of them might come after us in ways I never foresaw. But we can work until we pay them back, we can slowly wean ourselves away from them. We can continue. Discreetly. Quietly. Without incident. This doesn't have to get out of hand. If nothin' else happens, we should be able to earn enough profit to slip completely outta the whole things by the time Beth graduates high school."

A man's voice interrupted – it was Otis, his voice low but heated, "That's eight years from now, Hershel."

Hershel sighed again. Beth's muscles were tight as she picked up on the tense energy emanating from the room. Her daddy's stern voice didn't help to relax her.

"I know. It's not ideal, I know this. But we don't really… have a choice. The church is providing enough cover for now, no one suspects any of us. We can keep laying low. We can keep working, just like we have been. I'll deal with the people, the politics of it – I just have to ask you all to be patient," his voice grew softer. "I have to ask y'all to have faith in God and His plan. This will keep us alive, keep our families safe in the homes we've raised them in all their lives… We can keep each other safe. No matter what, we're risking our lives: whether it be risking homelessness, or-or risking our entire livelihoods, our children's futures – this is just one more risk, and we have to take it. Otherwise, everything we've done up to this point will have been for nothing. We will be… right back to square one."

No one said another word. They were all looking around at each other, seemingly exchanging meaningful glances and conversing with facial expressions.

Beth had been so distracted by the changes in Shawn's expression, as well as the blank stare on Maggie's face, that she hadn't even realized her momma was staring right at her. Annette had spotted Beth amongst the shadows in the hall, and before Hershel or anyone else could say another word, she got to her feet silently and slipped away from the group to leave the living room. Beth made eye contact with her very angry mother for only a second before she felt a strong pinch on her ear and she was being pulled away from her hiding spot and back up the stairs. Voices continued to come from the living room, but they were getting fainter and fainter as Beth's mother guided her upstairs and back to her bedroom, mumbling angrily the whole way.

"Beth, what have I told you about eavesdropping? Curiosity killed the cat," her momma scolded, standing and waiting patiently as Beth crawled back into bed and under the covers.

"Then how come Shawn and Maggie get t'be there?! Why am I the only one bein' left out?" Beth cried, absolutely anguished at the lack of inclusion.

Her momma sat down on the edge of her bed, looking down at Beth sternly. Her eyes were still soft, but she spoke in a way that Beth knew not to talk back or give her attitude, because this was very, very serious. "Bethy, I need you to listen to me very carefully… Whatever you heard in there is not to leave this house. We have a very special, very secret plan. It is God's plan, Beth. Your daddy and I are working very hard to keep you and Shawn and Maggie safe. They were in there because we had stuff for them to do… like chores. You don't want more chores, do you?"

Beth shook her head, taking in every word her momma said.

"And I don't want to give you more chores. But you eavesdropped, and you stayed up past bedtime, so now I have to give you one very important chore. And that chore is not to talk about anything you heard in there, not to anyone. You have to keep a secret. If you do tell someone – like a friend at school, or a teacher – some very bad people will come and take me and Daddy away. You don't want that, do you?"

Once again, Beth shook her head.

Her momma nodded. "Good. Neither do we. It's just church stuff, okay? You'll find out someday, after you get too big for Sunday School. Just like Shawn. Now say your prayers and go to sleep. We have a lot of cleaning up to do tomorrow, and we need your help."

Beth nodded, and even though she had been told something that she was too young to fully understand, she felt like she finally had an important role in her family. She relaxed as her momma tucked her in and kissed her on the forehead, whispering, "Goodnight, baby girl."

For some reason, this memory had stuck, and Beth couldn't describe how she had known that everything was different after that night. Maybe it was the feeling in the air on the farm. Maybe it was the look on her daddy's face most days after that. But something big had changed.

It didn't take long for her to begin learning the real, full truth. But by then, it was just their way of life. It was how she was raised. Who was she to question her parents and their method of keeping the family fed and thriving? She had just as much to lose as the rest of them. Maggie helped her learn this, and so did Shawn… in a way. Maggie reminded her, over and over, how they "all had jobs to do."

But Maggie also reminded her not to be willing to give anything up easily. Just like their parents.

The bath helped to sufficiently calm Beth's nerves and she emerged feeling relaxed and clear-headed. Her hand was itching to write more than ever, but she shook off the sensation. She slipped on her last set of clean clothes and silently wondered how she hadn't thought to look for a sign of a washer or dryer in the apartment. But she hadn't seen a possible place for either of those, so she wondered how Daryl washed their laundry. She decided to ask him later, after he got home.

She still had a couple hours to kill before she'd be sitting next to the phone, waiting for the mysterious call. Lying on the bed, she went through her usual routine of scrolling through the news sites and checking her email. She also checked for any new texts, just in case Irma decided to check up on her again. When she found nothing new, she reached beneath the pillow and felt for the gun, then the pocket watch, and then she slid the photo out. It looked the same as it had the night before, but seeing her parents' faces sent a warm sensation through her body. For just a second, she felt close to them again.

In an effort to pass the time, Beth wandered into the living room and turned on the TV. She flipped through the channels, finding mostly commercials. She paused for a moment on the news stations, but saw nothing of interest and – thankfully – nothing related to her case. She ended up leaving it on a channel that was playing a rerun of The Office, and zoned out as the minutes passed by and the commercials repeated themselves.

She snapped back to attention once the clock began nearing 5:30. By that point, the time was dragging, and she gripped the phone in her hand, glancing at it every few seconds. She turned the volume down on the TV until it was nearly muted. The seconds ticked by, her eyes focused on the small screen.

5:40. 5:41. 5:42.

And then it was 5:43. She held her breath. Seconds later, the phone vibrated.

Once. Twice. She pressed Answer with a shaky finger and held the phone up to her ear.

"Hello?"

"What is your name?" The voice on the other end was deep and otherworldly – most likely belonging to a voice changing device.

Beth swallowed despite the desert that had become of her mouth. She said the first answer that came to mind, "Rosie."

"Good," the voice replied simply. "We've been expecting your call. We saw the news. How many days has it been now?"

She hesitated, "Why does that matter?"

"Exactly," the mystery person said, as if they'd been testing her. "Your sibling taught you well. How far north did you go?"

Beth paused again, trying to answer vaguely while silently praying she wouldn't give the wrong reply, "Past D.C."

For the first time, the voice on the other end hesitated, then, "Is it a large city? Does anyone know of your presence?"

"Yes. And no," she lied, her heart racing

"Good. I'm assuming you need paperwork," they said.

"Yes. To leave – "

"Yes, I know," they interrupted her. "Don't say any more. We have someone there. You will receive another call later tonight. You will receive the exact time of that call shortly. Do not speak of this to anyone. If we feel anything has been risked, we will abort all communication attempts."

"Understood," was all Beth could think to say. There was a knot in her throat that wouldn't go away.

She was expecting more words, more instructions, but when the silence lasted for more than a few seconds, she pulled the phone away from her ear to find that the call had ended. The call log told her that the entire exchange had lasted less than thirty seconds.

The last fifteen minutes of solitude went by too fast for Beth's liking. She was brimming with questions, repeatedly refreshing her email as she searched for the time of the next phone call. But the voice hadn't specified when the email might arrive, and before she knew it, the clock read 6:04 and a loud knock at the front door was interrupting her thoughts.

She jumped a little, then remembered what time it was and the conversation she'd had with Daryl that morning. Before she could stand up from the couch, phone still in her hand, the doorknob jiggled and Beth could hear the sounds of a key being inserted and the door being opened from the outside.

A tall, older woman entered with Malachi close behind her. The toddler seemed eager to get inside the apartment, happily running to his toy box across the room. He breezed past Beth, who stood feet away from the front door, having stopped to see if the neighbor lady needed help with anything. The older woman looked up, and Beth saw that she had short, graying hair, even shorter than Beth's own hair. She was tall and slender, her eyes bright and lively, and she had a pleasant smile on her face. She looked like she was around Daryl's age, maybe ten or fifteen years older, but perhaps she'd experienced a hard life and aged a little quicker than some. She appeared nice, though, and Beth attempted a warm smile in her direction. In response, the older woman looked her up and down, much more blatantly than even Daryl had.

"You're the new roommate?" She asked, holding out her hand in offering once she'd set down Malachi's bag and jacket. "I'm Carol, I live in 3B."

Beth took it, shaking her hand. The older woman had a strong grip, and her eyes seemed to be studying Beth's face for any signs of guilt. She tried to understand – this woman had a fairly close relationship with Daryl and his son, obviously, so she probably worried about them. But that didn't change how scrutinized Beth felt.

"I'm Rosie, nice to meet you," she replied, still smiling in what she hoped was a warm way, pulling her hand back to her side. She tried to speak a little more clearly in a weak attempt to disguise her accent. She'd noticed how being around Daryl was causing her to mimic his thick accent, but she'd hoped to get rid of it completely during her time in the city. Or at least, as much of it as she could.

"I'm from Georgia, too. What part did you come from?" Carol asked, startling Beth.

How the hell - maybe she's mistaken, she told herself, quickly coming up with a lie. "Oh, I'm – uh, I'm actually from Alabama. Maybe Daryl mistook what I told him – "

"Oh, no, he didn't tell me anything about you. I guessed from your accent. My mistake," the older woman said, but her face was telling Beth a different story. Carol's light blue eyes studied Beth intently, squinting as she pursed her mouth into a thin line. She had the look of disapproval, but Beth wasn't sure exactly what she'd done to disappoint this stranger. Had Daryl really not told her anything? Or was he telling her bad things?

"Um, it's really nice to finally meet you," Beth said, unsure of what else to say. She felt like she was sucking up, so she glanced over her shoulder to see Malachi occupied by a toy as he played on the floor. She looked back to Carol, who was still studying her.

"You, too," the older woman put a smile on her face that seemed almost forced and Beth wondered if her own face had turned completely red yet, because that's how it felt. "Sophia and I have a meeting tonight so I have to get going. I'll see you soon."

Her last words weren't exactly casual as she waved goodbye to Malachi from the doorway before turning and leaving, and Beth mumbled a goodbye as she moved to close the front door. Just before she shut it, she caught a glimpse of a little girl standing in the hallway. The small girl couldn't have been older than eight or nine, and she looked like a smaller version of Carol with long hair. Beth guessed that was Sophia as she locked the door back up and returned to the living room.

For a second, Beth wondered where Carol and Sophia were actually going, because she noticed that Daryl had called it a "class" and Carol had called it a "meeting." But she quickly reminded herself that it was none of her business and it didn't affect her anyway.

Malachi seemed to be content playing by himself for the time being, and Beth watched the clock as well as the email on her phone. Nearly ten minutes passed before the toddler got bored and needed to vocalize his thoughts. He wandered over to the couch where she sat, waiting for her to acknowledge him. She looked back into his big, blue eyes, one of his toys still clutched in his hand.

"D'you got a mom?" He blurted, and Beth almost laughed out loud. He had a knack for asking completely random questions.

She nodded, a faint smile on her lips despite the thoughts that were nagging at the back of her mind. "Of course I do. Everybody has a mom."

"Oh," Malachi answered, his eyes drifting down to the carpet as he appeared to be deep in thought. Then he said, "Yeah, guess so. My mom um, she uh – lives in the ground. We're gonna go see 'er."

Beth's smile disappeared but she tried not to show it, nodding her head and hoping he'd get bored with the subject. But he seemed to be thinking about his mom quite a bit today.

"How come?" She asked softly, unsure if he'd even understand the question, let alone answer it coherently.

"Um… she left. Dad said. Today," he mumbled in broken sentences, suddenly distracted by the toy in his hand. His attention drifted away from Beth, and she pursed her lips to stop herself from asking any more.

The small, blond boy didn't seem to have any other burning questions for Beth today, and he wandered off to dig another toy from the box and begin playing on the floor again. She watched him silently, anticipating Daryl's arrival. She kept refreshing her email every minute or so, but there was still nothing showing up.

The front door unlocked and opened at 6:22 and Daryl entered the apartment, multiple grocery bags hanging from his arms and hands as he juggled his keys and helmet at the same time. Beth stood up and rushed to help him, trying to take as many bags as she could to free his hands. They managed to get everything into the kitchen and onto the counter with a grunt from Daryl. As soon as he'd set everything down, he turned and walked right back to the front door, grabbing Malachi's jacket from where it hung on the rack.

"Mal, let's go!" He called.

Beth watched from across the bar as Daryl completely ignored her, not even mumbling a hello or goodbye, and helped his son slip into his jacket before leading him out the front door. Within seconds, the apartment was silent again, leaving Beth with piles of groceries to put away.

She began opening bags and digging out the contents. As she sorted through the groceries, opening cabinets and cupboards and the fridge and freezer, she thought she heard a noise from her phone. She told herself she was hearing things because she was anticipating it so much, but checked nonetheless. To her surprise, the screen showed that she had a new email from Unknown.

2:27 AM.

The message said nothing else. She glanced at the time, even though she'd been doing that all night. It was only 6:25.

This was going to be a long eight hours.

It only took about an hour and a half for Beth to put away all the groceries, prepare a meal, and clean up the dishes. She even had time to sort through the toiletries she'd requested, which she stashed in empty spots around the bathroom. She watched the front door expectantly, but there was no sign of Daryl and Malachi. She heard footsteps and faint voices in the hall at one point, and figured Carol and Sophia must've just gotten home. But then it was silent again, and the sun had set. Beth wondered how long Daryl would stay out past dark with such a young kid. But then she glanced at the magnet calendar on the freezer and remembered that it was Friday, and the first day of September as well. She wondered what significance this day held for Daryl and Malachi. The toddler said "she left." And Daryl seemed distracted. It had to be the anniversary of the nameless, blonde woman's death. That was the only logical answer.

But Beth reminded herself once again that she had plenty of her own to worry about. She covered all the food to keep it warm and sat down at the table with her plate to eat alone. The TV was still on at a low volume, and she gazed at it from her seat without really seeing it. She didn't have much of an appetite anymore, but she managed to push down the small portions she'd gotten for herself.

When that was finished, she set her plate in the sink and wandered to the glass bottle of clear liquid sitting on the countertop. She'd taken it from the bags and set it aside, but she hadn't looked at it closely. Now that she was, she saw that it was some kind of Moonshine. She wondered if Daryl expected her to drink this. She knew it probably wasn't dangerous since it was sold in stores, but she still couldn't forget how her daddy had once told her that drinking bad moonshine can make you go blind. She read through the ingredients list but it was mostly full of words she didn't understand.

There was still no sign of the boys, so she shut off the TV and retired to her bedroom. It was past Malachi's bedtime and Beth wondered how far they'd had to travel. She changed back into her lounging pants and relaxed on the bed, scrolling through her phone absent-mindedly right after setting an alarm for 2:20 a.m. Her bedside lamp was currently the only light on in the apartment.

About a half hour passed before she heard the sounds of the front door unlocking and opening and she perked up from where she lay. She watched light appear from the crack under her door, and then shadows dancing as Daryl and Malachi moved about the kitchen and hall. Their voices were muffled, and she half-expected one of them to knock on her door any minute. But they didn't. It seemed that they were helping themselves to dinner from the sounds of dishes clinking together. And after that, their footsteps wandered from the kitchen down the hall, disappearing inside their shared bedroom. Then the apartment was silent again.

Beth thought that would be the last she'd hear from them for the rest of the night, and she resumed scrolling through news articles on the small screen of her phone. She reached over and turned off the lamp, hoping for even a few minutes of rest before she'd be interrogated again via phone. As she set her phone down on the nightstand, plugging it into the charger, she heard the sounds of footsteps in the bathroom next door, followed by the bathtub faucet being turned on.

She lay on her side, staring at the clock with her left ear buried in the pillow and her right ear listening to the sounds of Daryl in the bathroom, only a wall away from her. It sounded like he'd decided to take a bath before going to sleep. The sound of the faucet eventually stopped, and then there was silence again. A few minutes later, the distinct sound of the bathroom vent being turned on came through the wall. Beth watched the minutes slowly pass on the alarm clock, wishing it would move faster. She tried to let herself be lulled to sleep by the idle bathroom noises, but it wasn't helping her drift off.

She could've sworn she heard some sort of low grunts, or mumbles. She couldn't tell if he was moaning or weeping, or possibly even laughing. She wasn't even sure if he had the ability to cry. It was none of her business anyway. She just hoped that she hadn't been unintentionally listening in on him jerking off or something.

Then a familiar smell drifted in under her door, or maybe it was making its way through the vents or through the wall? Beth wasn't sure, but it was permeating the air somewhat heavily now. It smelled like a skunk at first, but then it didn't. She hadn't smelled it in a while, but it was one of the most recognizable aromas in existence: marijuana smoke. Now she knew exactly what he was doing in the bathroom.

She couldn't blame him, though. She'd probably share a joint if someone offered her right now. She didn't think Daryl was the kind of guy to smoke pot, so she had never guessed he'd have any in his possession. He seemed like the overprotective, paranoid dad. Then again, it was Friday night, and after being here for a couple of days, this was the first time she'd smelled it. So maybe this was just how he celebrated his weekend.

The stench of weed was riling up some old, less-than-favorable memories in Beth's head. She pushed them away, listening to Daryl's footsteps next door. The smell was slowly fading, but it still left a stagnant emotion in her chest. She could hear the bathroom door being opened and shut once more, but the vent was left on. She focused on the steady whirr of its motor as she closed her eyes.

As hard as she tried, from steadying her breathing to counting sheep, she couldn't get herself to doze off. She opened her eyes and continued staring at the clock. She rehearsed the upcoming phone call in her mind as midnight approached and the darkness seemed to get heavier around her. Finally, her muscles grew restless, and she sat up with a defeated sigh. She pulled the phone from its charger once more and shoved it into the pocket of her baggy pants, then quietly opened her bedroom door and peeked out into the hallway.

The vent was still going in the bathroom, but everything was dark. The only light was coming from the dim bulb above the stove in the kitchen. The bedroom at the end of the hall was dark, and the door sat half-open. She tiptoed out across the hall and into the kitchen, using the stove light to navigate her way. She eyed the bottle of moonshine and picked it up carefully, then turned around to fetch a glass from the other side of the kitchen. She stopped suddenly, though, when she spotted a dark mass in her peripheral vision. She set down the bottle on the counter and moved to the side, squinting for a better look. She quickly realized it was Daryl sitting on the couch in the living room.

She wondered why he was still up this late, sitting alone in the dark. She glanced back at the bottle, then to Daryl. She took a deep breath and stepped gingerly into the living room, approaching him slowly and carefully. He didn't move, but she could tell that he heard her.

"Told ya it's too late fer another story. Go back to bed," Daryl's deep voice cut through the darkness and startled Beth, stopping her in her tracks.

"I didn't even get a story," she mumbled, hoping to ease the tension that hung around the couch.

He turned his head now, and she couldn't quite see his face in the shadows, but he seemed surprised to see her. She'd thought he'd known it was her, but apparently he'd been expecting Malachi. He shook his head and looked away from her again, mumbling, "Thought you were the kid."

She shrugged, although he wasn't watching. "I know. Sorry, didn't mean t'sneak up on ya… That bottle in there for me?"

She saw his head move in a nodding motion in the dim light that leaked from the kitchen, but she'd been hoping for a verbal reply. She wasn't sure why. A part of her didn't want to drink alone just yet. Another part was shamelessly nosey and wanted to know all the juicy details about the woman who could turn this tough-as-nails man into a depressed, moping heap. And another part, still, recognized an aching soul and wanted to reach out desperately for the human connection that she silently craved.

Instead, she pursed her lips and swallowed back her words. Turning back towards the kitchen, she crept across the carpet and tile and returned to the bottle. She took her time opening it, finding an appropriate glass, and pouring herself a small drink. As she was closing the bottle back up, Daryl's quiet voice spoke up from the couch.

"Pour me one."

It was mumbled and coming from the other side of the living room, but the apartment was so quiet that Beth could understand him perfectly. She smirked to herself, quietly relieved to have someone to try this new drink with, and retrieved another glass. She poured more of the liquid for Daryl, then added a bit more to her glass to match. She carried the two glasses to the couch carefully, holding one out and letting the older man take it from her hand. She tried not to look as awkward as she felt when she sat down on the couch, leaving a few feet of space between them.

He didn't say another word or make any noise. She could faintly hear him sipping the moonshine, and she followed his lead by taking a tentative sip of her own. She winced and cringed at the taste, nearly gagging. Her nose and throat burned slightly, but she fought down the noises of disgust that she wanted to make. She could almost swear her head was already beginning to swim.

"Little strong. But it's better than Peach Schnapps," he mumbled, his voice low and sleepy.

She nodded silently, sitting with her legs tucked beneath her, both hands gripping the glass. She stared at him through the darkness, his features becoming clearer as her eyes adjusted to the low light. He'd leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and back slightly hunched. He held his glass in one hand, while the other was stroking his goatee. She watched him move from one nervous habit to another as he proceeded to chew on the end of his thumb thoughtfully. His eyes were staring out into nothing, and Beth recognized that look as being lost in his own thoughts.

"Thanks for pickin' up that stuff," she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. Daryl only nodded.

Beth took another sip, finding it easier to swallow this time. She began to think moonshine might be an acquired taste, like most alcohol seemed to be. Her eyes drifted to the coffee table a few feet away, where she spotted the photo album from the bottom shelf of the bookcase. It was lying closed, but she guessed that Daryl had been looking through it and reminiscing in the dark. Beth wanted to ask him about her, but she was afraid of upsetting him.

A few minutes passed in total silence. They sat on the couch together, sipping peacefully and staring off at nothing in particular. She still had another two hours before she had to worry about the phone call, but she was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She wasn't sure that Daryl necessarily wanted her in the living room right now, or sitting near him. She thought she might've interrupted a solitary moment without thinking to ask if her presence was welcomed.

Deciding to go back to her room and pass the time, she stood up, empty glass in hand. She didn't say anything, assuming he'd prefer the silence. Just as she turned to step away, his voice stopped her.

"Can you… stay?"

She turned back around to look down at him. He still wasn't looking at her, but she knew he could see her in his peripherals. She gripped her glass tighter, then nodded silently. Somehow, his blank expressions were telling her everything that she needed to know right now.

She reached her hand out and he placed his empty glass in her waiting palm. She turned and headed back to the kitchen, pouring them each another drink. Then they were sitting feet apart on the couch again, drinking quietly while both their minds raced.

A single question itched in her throat, begging to come out. It was on the tip of her tongue as she stared at Daryl, and she took another sip of moonshine to try to wash it down. But it stayed, and even though she was pretty sure she knew the answer, she just wanted confirmation. She didn't have the guts to ask him exactly what he was thinking about, but she could at least get an idea.

"Was today… the anniversary? Of her…?" She couldn't finish the question once it started coming out. She couldn't seem to think of any other word besides 'death,' but that felt inappropriate to speak aloud right now. She studied Daryl's expression through the darkness, finding it unchanged.

"Yeah," he grunted. And that was it. He didn't try to say anything else, and she didn't try to ask any more.

She leaned back into the couch, sipping slowly. Her head was definitely swimming now, but she'd gone back to thinking about the phone call that was coming. Daryl's voice startled her out of her thoughts when he abruptly broke the silence.

"Never really… needed her. But… gets lonely sometimes," he mumbled, staring down into the glass in his hands.

Beth nodded. She understood, and she knew he wasn't looking for assurance or sympathy or even an answer. Sometimes it's just nice to know you're not as alone as you thought. She didn't have to vocalize it. They could both tell that the other was thinking something similar. For the first time since she'd met him, Beth was beginning to think she understood Daryl. At least in a way.

They sat like that for a long time. Beth wondered if he was even going to sleep tonight. Meanwhile, her eyelids were getting heavier and heavier by the minute. The quiet was nice, and it was something they could both appreciate and share without speaking. But with the addition of moonshine, Beth was finding it difficult to stay awake. The sounds of the city drifted in through the windows, one of them opened just a crack to let in the nighttime chill. The sirens and car horns were becoming a lullaby to Beth's ears.

She was brought back to attention by Daryl's voice, speaking up for the first time in over an hour. It sounded strange now, and she tried to blink her eyes to clear her vision. The clock below the TV read 1:36.

"I shoulda… done more. Done anything. And I… didn't," Daryl grumbled, barely making any sense to Beth. It was more like he was thinking out loud without realizing that he was actually talking.

She tried to put the pieces together, but her weary brain simply couldn't, so she just nodded. There was a longer story here, and it was something that couldn't be explained through a handful of old photos. She sensed the guilt he carried, but she couldn't quite figure out the reason for it.

He looked over and saw her hooded eyes, making direct eye contact for the first time tonight. She felt like she had something to say in return, but decided against it. Maybe he just needed someone to say these things to. Some people didn't want to talk about it, they just wanted to talk about it. Daryl seemed like that kind of guy.

But his eyes said something different, as he stared back intently at her. She swallowed and licked her lips, preparing to speak for the first time in a while. Her voice cracked a bit and came out quiet, "I know what you mean."

She hadn't meant to say it. Her mind was filling with images of the night her mother and brother were murdered violently, and the night the rest of her family was arrested and taken to prison. She had guilt, too. But she hadn't meant to share it with Daryl. She pursed her lips and willed herself to stay quiet, looking away from his intense gaze.

"You do… huh?" He mumbled, putting more weight behind the words than normal, then lifted his glass to his lips and drained what was left of his drink. Beth hoped she wasn't being as transparent as she felt at the moment. But what was that old saying? "Misery loves company…"?

She decided to stand up, slowly at first. Her legs were nearly asleep and she had to stretch for a few seconds before she could walk to the kitchen and place her empty glass next to the sink. She glanced at Daryl on the couch one more time, giving him a chance to speak up or ask her to sit back down. But he looked like he was preparing to get up and go lie in bed, and her own bed was calling to her. Even though she needed to be wide awake soon.

Beth sat up in bed, resting her back against the wall, and watched the time change on the alarm clock for the next hour. She'd shut her door tightly, but she could still see Daryl's shadow pass by as he headed down the hallway to his bedroom at exactly 2:02. She was still wondering what he felt guilty about, and what kind of things were keeping him up late at night. It was hard to refrain from being curious. She told herself she shouldn't care about this guy's story or cliché tragic past or whatever it may be, no matter what. But that was a lot easier said than done.

At 2:19, she silenced her alarms and let 2:20 come and go in peace. Her phone was fully charged and gripped in both hands as she sat upright in bed, staring at the screen and waiting for the minutes to pass. It felt like another eternity, and she couldn't remember ever waiting by a phone like this for anything before. But then again, she'd never been in a situation like this before.

Within the first ten seconds of 2:27, the phone began vibrating in her hands. Its screen lit up, displaying a call from Blocked once again. On the second vibration, she pressed Answer and put the phone up to her ear. She tried to speak quietly, hoping that Daryl wouldn't hear her from his bedroom.H

"Hello?"

"Rosie," they said. It was the same voice changing device from earlier.

"Yes," Beth replied.

"You will be given an address, a day, and a time. These will be three separate calls. This is the first. Are you ready to know the first detail?" They spoke quickly but clearly.

She had already rushed out to grab a piece of paper and a pen from the kitchen, prepared to write down the information. So she answered, "Yes."

"Sunday, September third," the person said. "Your next phone call will be at random. Be. Ready." Then they hung up.

Beth scribbled down, Sunday 9/3. She set the phone back down on the nightstand and sighed. She had to wait for two more phone calls? At random times?

She definitely wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

to be continued…

A/N: In honor of being nominated for 2 Moonshine Awards this year, I spent all day writing an extra-long chapter. I want to dedicate this to everyone who's been reviewing along the way and sticking with me on this weird journey: GracieMae11, Bethylove67, Hasick, benevolent01, Elodie Grimmesey, and Atilia Dawn Black. I appreciate everyone who's given this a read, and I truly hope I'm keeping you as enthralled in this story as I am! Don't forget to go vote for your favorite fics in the 2017 Moonshine Awards, and I hope you'll consider this fic for Best Work In Progress as well as my smut fic, "Yellow Bikini" for Best Smut. Thank you all again for reading, and don't forget to let me know what you think!