Thanks to: ScornedXRose, Zombiepacalypse, Blackhollyyeaah, TheRedBones, IloveDarylDixon, MAR76, heboosh, anonymousbetty, thegoulashqueen, Guest (anonymous), and Plague's Vengeance for the reviews. Also thanks to PurpleClouds13 for your positive PM! You guys inspire me, and I see some repeat reviewers! You guys are the best.
Chapter Three: Wasteland
Even with Jack's provisions added to the group's supplies, they ran out of food quickly. After they had left Jim and found some spare parts to fix up Dale's RV, the group had split the last of the food between them for a sparse lunch. Apparently things had gone more poorly than just forgetting someone on a rooftop on their last supply run, but luckily they weren't far from the CDC.
Jack leaned against Glenn's seat and stared out the windshield as the city limits bloomed on the horizon. They weren't going very far in; the CDC was on the outskirts, but everyone became more tense, sending wary looks through the windows at the desolate, trash-strewn streets.
"Is that it?" Jack asked, pointing at gray and blue building that looked as though it had been designed by Frank Gehry. There was a roadblock in front of it, and all over the road and on the grass were felled bodies, more than they could count.
"This doesn't bode well," Dale said, but he pulled the RV to a park just outside the roadblock. His bushy eyebrows were pulled together in apprehension as he surveyed the carnage outside.
"Should we get out?" Glenn asked without enthusiasm.
"I will," Jack said. "I'll take a look around and make sure none of the bodies nearby are still kicking." She opened the door and jumped out. Immediately the smell of rotten, sunbaked bodies hit her nostrils. Despite everything, decay was not a smell that she could grow accustomed to, and Jack nearly gagged before she could slap a hand over her nose.
Flies buzzed everywhere, filling the air with the steady thrum of their wings. Jack took this as a good sign. It meant the bodies were truly dead. The flies were congregating to mate, lay eggs in the dead flesh, and feast, which was harder to do on bodies that still moved. Just to be sure, Jack kicked at one of the corpses near the blockade. The skin burst open where her foot had made contact and out poured a stream of wiggling white maggots. Jack couldn't hold back the gag this time, but she did turn and give Dale and Glenn a thumbs up.
Soon everyone had parked and filed out of the vehicles. Rick and Shane moved to the head of the group, leading with their guns and ushering the others forward. Everyone except Daryl covered their mouths and noses against the stench as they stepped around the numerous bodies and headed for the building that they had placed all of their hopes in. The CDC.
"Stay quiet," Shane was saying to them. "Keep close!"
Jack ambled toward the back of the group, weaponless but unworried. None of the bodies on the ground moved at all, and she was far more worried about the possibility that they would find people inside the CDC that weren't interested in helping them. Jack thought she was pretty lucky to find this group of people who, despite some major personality clashes, genuinely seemed to care about keeping each other alive. It was a miracle, one that she did not expect to encounter twice. What if the CDC was controlled by people who would only be interested in taking what little they still had and then killing them? Or worse?
Maybe she was just being pessimistic. Jack had always had trouble trusting people, especially men, the result of having a daddy like hers…but she couldn't ignore the feeling in her gut that told her something wasn't right about this place. It wasn't just the countless bodies outside, it was something else. An intuition.
"Come on," Rick stage whispered. "Almost there."
They passed a tank, an army Humvee, and even more road blockades. Someone had tried to protect this place, and had probably held out much longer than other places. But eventually death had won out. At least outside the building. There was no way to gauge the damage—if any—inside. The windows were all intact and completely reflective. Nothing from the interior could be seen from the exterior. If all was well inside, then this would be a great benefit in the long run.
They approached the doors slowly, but they were locked down. Jack stared at the metal rolling doors and couldn't decide if she felt relief or hopelessness. Perhaps both.
"There's nobody here," Shane said, trying to lift one of the metal doors.
"Then why are the shutters down?" Rick asked.
Suddenly Daryl yelled, "Walker!"
Everyone turned to see a corpse in military regalia shambling toward them. Carol, the shorthaired woman Jack had saved that first night in camp, pulled her daughter Sophia to her chest and let out a little shriek. Lori clutched onto Carl. Jacqui took hold of the back of T-Dog's shirt. Even Andrea took a step closer to Dale. Jack looked to Daryl, who was the closest person to her, but figured it would be a bad idea to go all girly on him. She couldn't imagine he would tolerate her hanging hysterically off of him. And besides, it wasn't as if her personal safety was at risk there.
Daryl swiftly took the Walker down with an arrow to the forehead. He turned around and stormed toward Rick, pointing his crossbow accusingly at the other man. "He led us to a graveyard!"
"He made a call," Shane said, coming forward to intervene.
"It was the wrong damn call," Daryl yelled angrily.
"Shut up," Shane said, pushing Daryl back. "You hear me? Shut up! Shut up!" He turned back to Rick and said, "This is a dead end."
"Where are we going to go?" Carol wailed, and Sophia clung more tightly to her mother. The sight of the little girl shaking with fear and desperation made a hard knot form in Jack's throat. She wished she could do something, say something, that might help.
"No blame," Shane said to Rick.
"She's right," Lori said, indicating Carol. "We can't be this close to the city after dark." Carl was holding on to his mom, his lip trembling as he tried to fight his own fear.
"Fort Benning, Rick. Still an option," Shane suggested.
"On what?" Andrea said. "No food, no fuel. That's a hundred miles."
"We'd have to make a run first," Glenn said.
"Forget Fort Benning," Lori said. "We need answers now!"
"We'll think of something," Rick tried to supplicate her, but from the look on Lori's face it wasn't working.
"Get out of here," Shane said, moving everyone back, away from the doors. They all started running back toward the cars. Jack jogged beside Glenn and Andrea, but she looked back to see Rick still standing near the doors. He was staring up at the cameras, frozen.
"The camera, it moved!" Rick yelled.
Everyone paused. Dale shook his head and said, "You imagined it."
"It moved," Rick said again. He ran up to the door, looked directly into the camera. Shane tried to pull him away, tried to reason with him, but Rick wasn't having it. Rick broke away from Shane and banged his fist against the metal shutter. He looked directly into the camera and screamed, "I know you're in there. I know you can hear me!"
Everyone flew into chaotic action. Walkers were ambling at them from different directions now. Panic was spreading through the group. Jack looked between the Walkers and Rick, wishing she had any sort of combat skills. If she could fight like T-Dog or Daryl, then she would be much more of an asset to this group. What could she do? Walk around with the undead? Jump on their backs and take a piggyback ride? Sure she had killed one, by beating it over the head, but that wasn't exactly the most efficient way to go about it. If she could shoot, things would be different.
"Please," Rick yelled, "we're desperate! Please help us! We have women, children. No food. Hardly any gas left. No where else to go." Lori was trying to push her husband back, trying to get them to safety. More Walkers were flooding the lawn, drawn by the commotion. Shane finally pulled Rick away, dragging him by the shoulders. Rick kept yelling. "You're killing us! Please! You're killing us!"
Suddenly the metal shutter lifted and light flooded out, so bright it was nearly blinding. Everyone paused, too shocked to move for a moment. And then the moans, the shuffling of broken, dead feet hit their ears again and the group surged forward.
The inside of the building was clean, almost unnaturally so. It was completely devoid of the trash, broken furniture and glass that Jack was used to seeing since the world had ended. She wasn't sure if it was this strange neatness juxtaposed to the death and destruction just outside the doors, or the overwhelming silence inside that disturbed her the most.
"Hello," someone yelled from the other side of the lobby. Everyone turned to the voice, weapons raised, cautious. "Anybody infected?" The voice asked. Jack stepped out from behind T-Dog and saw the man in the corner of the room, training his own rifle on them. He looked wild-eyed and suspicious, and she couldn't blame him.
"One of our group was," Rick called out. "He didn't make it."
"Why are you here? What do you want?" The man asked.
Rick looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with Jack. "A chance."
"That's asking an awful lot these days." The man walked closer toward them and Jack took him in. He was probably in his forties, with a slight paunch (a rarity in the apocalypse) and fluffy hair that looked like the fuzzy side of Velcro. His face was craggy, but there was something sad and earnest about his eyes.
"I know," Rick agreed. There wasn't much else to say to that.
The man looked over the group, his eyes skimming over the children, the terrified women. "You all submit to a blood test. That's the price of admission."
"Fair enough," Jack said, rubbing the back of her neck.
"We can do that," Rick nodded.
The man lowered his gun. "You got stuff to bring in, you do it now. Once this door closes," he pointed to the entrance, "it stays closed."
Glenn, Daryl and Jack ran back to the vehicles to gather their things. Jack grabbed Andrea and Dale's bags, and rooted through her own for some fresh clothes. She didn't feel like lugging the whole duffel inside, so she left it in the RV after she had pulled out a clean pair of jeans and a soft gray t-shirt. All she had were clothes and toiletries anyway, and the clothes left in the bag were actually too baggy for her. She would make do without and hope that she could find some spare fabric and perhaps a sewing machine inside. Or maybe just some scrubs.
After they jogged back into the building the man spoke into an intercom, telling someone named Vi to seal the main entrance. The shutter slammed closed behind them, locking them inside the building. Jack felt a tremor roll up her spine. She hated feeling trapped. She handed Andrea and Dale their things and slung her clothes over her shoulder.
Rick approached the man and held out his hand. "Rick Grimes," he introduced himself.
The man looked at him warily and said, "Dr. Edwin Jenner." He didn't take Rick's hand, but instead led them all to an elevator. They squeezed inside, and Jack found herself sandwiched between Glenn and Daryl in a corner. She tried not to fidget and bump one of them. Glenn would probably be okay, but she was a little afraid that Daryl would pull her into a headlock if she so much breathed on him. Besides, Jack wasn't one for excessive amounts of touching. Or confined spaces.
"Doctors always go around packing heat like that?" Daryl asked, nodding at Jenner's gun.
"Well, there were plenty left lying around, I familiarized myself," Jenner said. He appraised the group. "But you look harmless enough. Except you. I'll have to keep an eye on you," he nodded at Carl, who grinned a little bit.
The elevator dipped and dinged and the doors opened. Jenner led them out into a concrete hallway lined with caged lights. It was cool, but dank, like a basement.
"Are we underground," Carol asked.
"You claustrophobic?" Jenner asked.
"A little," Carol admitted. Jack was too, but she didn't say anything.
"Try not to think about it," Jenner said, which might have been the least helpful advice ever.
"Great, thank you," Jack muttered under her breath. She didn't think anyone had heard her, but then she felt someone nudge her shoulder and looked over to see Glenn grinning at her. She smiled back, sharing in his levity.
The hallway ended at a room. It was a giant, circular room, and this is where Jenner led them. "Vi, bring up the lights in the big room." Suddenly there was the click of electricity and the room was thrown into fluorescent lamination. There were work stations arranged in circular shapes, computers, electronic scanners and imaging machines, all clumped together on a large stage in the middle of the room. Jenner turned to them all and said, "Welcome to zone five."
They all walked into the room slowly, staring at the empty work stations. "Where is everybody," Rick asked. "The other doctors? The staff?"
Jenner led them to the stage and the desks. "I'm it," he said, without emotion or inflection. "It's just me here."
"What about the person you were speaking with?" Lori asked. "Vi?"
The look on Jenner's face was pure bemusement. "Vi, say hello to our guests. Tell them welcome."
A robotic voice came through speakers set into the ceiling. "Hello guests. Welcome."
Everyone looked around incredulously. Startled. Disappointed. Confused. "I'm all that's left," Jenner said. "I'm sorry."
Jenner didn't want to wait on the blood tests. He set up a table with individual blood vials for each of them. Just before Jack stepped up for her turn, Rick placed a hand on her shoulder, halting her. He turned to Jenner, who was watching them with curiosity and suspicion.
"There's something I think we should tell you, before you take her blood," Rick said.
"Has she been infected?" Jenner asked. "Bitten or scratched?"
"Bitten," Jack answered, and showed him the scar on her arm. His eyes widened as he looked at the red mark. "But not turned."
Jenner rose and came toward her. He took her arm gingerly into his hands and turned it beneath the light. "Bitten? By an infected person?" At her nod he said, "And not turned. Amazing."
"It's more than that," Rick said. Jenner looked up at him quickly. "Since she's been bit, they don't come after her. The Walkers don't even notice her, not the way they do the rest of us."
Jenner stared at Jack with something like awe and disbelief. "Is this true? They don't try and attack you?"
Jack shrugged. She felt really uncomfortable being under everyone's scrutiny like this, again. Jenner grabbed one of the empty blood vials and looked at her veins like Christmas had come early.
"Can you analyze it, her blood? Can you identify what makes her different, immune? Maybe use it make a cure?" Lori asked hopefully.
Jenner looked at the others hesitantly. "I will certainly analyze it," he said. That seemed to be enough for the others, but Jack felt her stomach sink. She could see it in his eyes. Hear it in his voice. Jenner didn't have the resources available to create a cure. He could maybe explain what caused her immunity, but that would be the extent of his helpfulness.
Jack shook her head. She didn't want to be pessimistic. Maybe she was misreading Jenner's expression, the words he wasn't saying. Maybe there was hope.
She let him fill the vial and then moved away quickly, ignoring the way he set her blood apart from the others. She took a seat and waited for Jenner to finish with the others. Andrea was up next.
"What's the point," Andrea asked, when Jenner was pulling the vial away from the crease in her elbow. "If we were infected, we would all be running a fever."
Jenner looked at her sharply and said, "I'll already broken every rule in the book letting you in here. Let me just be thorough. All done."
Andre stood, but wobbled a moment. Jacqui was quick to her side, steadying her. The blond woman looked as though she might pass out.
"You okay?" Jenner asked.
"She hasn't eaten," Jacqui said. "None of us have."
Jenner looked shocked at this. His eyes traveled over the groupcontemplatively. He had finished drawing their blood and gathered it all up. "Wait here a moment," he said, and disappeared back into the hallway.
Everyone looked around at each other. Glenn said, "Is it just me, or did Jenner look like he wanted to make-out with Jack's blood?"
"Eww," Carl said.
A few people smiled and chuckled. T-Dog laughed and clapped Jack on the shoulder. "Baby girl, if you end up being the cure to all this, I'm gonna kiss you myself."
She tried to grin, but it felt rictus, and came out as more of a pained grimace. She hated the hopeful looks they were all giving her. All except for Daryl. He was standing in the corner, biting on the skin around his fingernails. He didn't seem at all interested in the conversation around him.
Jenner shuffled back into the room and motioned the group to follow him. He led them down another hallway to a large break room. "There's plenty of food," he said. "And spirits."
And that was enough to drop their barriers. The group made use of the building's kitchen, whipping up the finest dinner they'd had in weeks. They raided the store of alcohol, bringing forth bottles of wine, vodka, and whiskey. There was even soda for the kids.
They pushed together some folding tables and plunked down for a civilized meal together. Passing around drinks and socializing for the first time in so long without the worry of Walkers interrupting them.
Dale poured wine into glasses and began to distribute them around. He offered one to Jack, but she declined. She had found grape soda—her favorite—in the kitchen. Besides, she didn't have a stomach for alcohol. She had tried it in high school, but she didn't like the sensation of being drunk or buzzed. She didn't like putting herself into a situation where she could be manipulated, used. She liked to have full control of her mental faculties. She'd learned that lesson the hard way. It was better to be in a right state of mind. Always. Especially after her experience with the brain tumor and all the meds she had been on. She'd had enough experience with mind-altering products.
Carl asked his mother if he could try some wine, and Dale said, "In Italy children have wine with dinner. And France."
Lori covered Carl's cup and said, "Well, when Carl is in Italy or France, then he can have some."
"C'mon," Rick said, smiling at his wife in a way that made Jack think he could probably charm his way into anything with Lori, "What's it gonna hurt?"
Lori shrugged, smiling, and lifted her hand. "Okay."
Dale poured some red wine into the glass and handed it to Carl. "Here you are, young lad."
Carl took the glass and slugged some down. Everyone watched for his reaction and no one was disappointed. His face scrunched up and he said, "Eww." Everyone burst into laughter, even Jack.
She leaned back in her seat and sipped on her soda. She was sitting between T-Dog and Shane and could smell the alcohol from both of their cups. It was worse when Daryl crossed behind her. He was carrying an open bottle of whiskey and the scent seemed to punch Jack in the throat.
"Stick to soda, buddy," Shane was telling Carl.
"Not you Glenn," Daryl said.
Glenn looked up. He was already buzzed, his eyes gleaming bright beneath the bill of his cap. "What?"
"Keep drinking, little man," Daryl said. He came up on Shane's other side and poured a shot. "I wanna see how red your face can get."
It was the closest to friendly teasing that Jack had heard from him so far, and it interested her. Everyone laughed and Glenn nodded his head good-naturedly, but Jack watched Daryl. There was something about him that had captivated her from the moment she had stepped out onto the rooftop in Atlanta. He was coarse and unfriendly. Volatile and unpredictable. But he kept doing odd little things that completely surprised her. Like the respectful nod he had given Jim before they left him on the side of the road. Or the way that he had stuck with them to save Glenn from the Vatos, despite his objections. There was nothing soft about Daryl Dixon, but there was something contradictory about him. Something that left Jack guessing. She didn't trust him, but she was intrigued by him.
Rick tapped a fork to his glass and rose. Everyone quieted as he gestured to Jenner and said, "It seems to me that we haven't thanked our host properly."
"He is more than just our host," T-Dog said, lifting his glass. Everyone followed suit with a, "Here, here!"
Daryl lifted an entire bottle of whiskey and said, "Booyah!" Several others echoed it around the table. Jack inclined her head at Jenner and gulped down some more soda. It didn't matter that it was warm, it was the best thing she had had in weeks.
"Thank you," Rick said to Jenner.
Jenner lifted his glass in return, but looked uncomfortable.
"So when are you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, doc?" Shane said, and immediately the joviality at the table seemed to be sucked into a vacuum of seriousness. "All the other doctors who were supposed to be figuring out what happened, where are they?"
"We're celebrating, Shane," Rick chastised. "No need to do this now."
"Wait a second, this is why we're here, right?" Shane asked. He looked at Rick. "This was your move. Supposed to find all the answers. Instead, we found him," he indicated Jenner. "We found one man. Why?"
"Well," Jenner said, "when things got bad a lot of people left to be with their loved ones. And when things got worse, when the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted."
"Every last one," Shane asked, skeptically.
"No, many couldn't face walking out the door. They opted out," Jenner said. "There was a rash of suicides. That was a bad time."
"You didn't leave," Andrea said. "Why?"
"I just kept working," Jenner answered. "Hoping to do some good." His eyes glanced over to Jack, the expression in them wistful.
"Dude," Glenn said, hoping down from the counter he had been perched on. He looked at Shane with disdain. "You are such a buzz kill."
Jenner took them into a part of the building where the doctors' offices had been. He explained that there was limited electricity, couches to sleep on, blankets, a rec room with things to entertain themselves with. But best of all, there were showers with hot water.
Jack didn't waste time exploring any of the other rooms. She shut herself into one of the bathrooms, stripped off her clothes and cranked on the water. It turned hot almost immediately and she could have cried at the sensation of it hitting her skin. She jumped in, letting it pour over her body, knead into her back. In this moment she could almost forget everything she had been through in the past few weeks. She could almost forget the bodies rotting just outside the building. This was a piece of normal life. How had she ever taken this for granted before?
There was body wash, shampoo, and conditioner in pump dispensers on the wall. They smelled like the stuff hotels gave out, floral dish soap or potpourri, but she didn't care. She scrubbed her skin, and basked in the warmth.
When she finished, Jack stepped out of the shower and wiped the steam off the mirror. Her reflection was all pink skin and glowing contentment. It had been a long time since she had seen herself, and she took a moment to examine her features. She looked the same in a lot of ways. Same wavy brown hair, same dark gray eyes, same arched brows and slightly uneven mouth. The biggest difference was in her body. Her frailty. She looked at the shadow of her ribcage, her concave belly and sharp hipbones. Her breasts were much smaller, and she placed her hands over them, wondering idly if she would ever be a C-cup again. Probably not.
Jack sighed and slipped her clean clothes on. She grabbed up her dirty jeans and shirt and tossed them into the sink with the intention of hand washing them later. Now, however, she was going to go down to the kitchen, find another grape soda, and then hit up the rec room for some entertainment. She hoped there would be books. She loved the novels she had stowed away on Dale's RV, but she would love something new.
She passed Dale and Rick in the hallway and nodded to them. She was beginning to grow more comfortable, even fond of the others. Especially Glenn and Dale. She had spent a lot of time alone with them in RV today, and she could feel a bond quickly forming with them. Dale was like the father figure she had never had. Her own dad had been an emotionally detached workaholic with an alcohol dependency. She had rarely seen him, and had always wished for a closer relationship, someone to share her problems with, someone who would look at her with twinkling eyes and offer up advice and words of comfort. She could see those things in Dale already, and she cherished it.
Glenn, though close to her in age, was like the little brother she never had. Cheeky and sincere, he was just so vibrant and alive. He made Jack want to believe that there was hope for all of them. That they had a future. That Carl and Sophia might be able to grow up, despite the many ways in which the world had crumbled down around them. She couldn't put her finger on it, but Glenn made her hope.
She followed the hallway back to the kitchen. The lights had been turned off to preserve electricity, so she used the dim glow of the emergency lights to find her way through the industrial kitchen to the pantry. She had almost made it when a shadow leapt out into her path.
Jack couldn't help it, she shrieked and fell back. Her hip banged hard against the metal sink and her feet slipped out from under her. She would have fallen down if not for the hand that grabbed her arm and yanked her roughly upright.
The hand wrapped completely around her shoulder, fingers digging into her armpit. It was a strong grip, painful, and she knew she would have a nice finger-shaped bruise to match the one blooming on her hip. She frantically tried to claw the hand off of her, but her fingers were bitten short (a nasty habit of hers).
"What's wrong wit' you? Screamin' like that," Daryl's voice hissed out, annoyed, and he released her as violently as he had grabbed her. She stumbled back a few steps and rubbed her shoulder.
"Daryl, you scared the crap out of me," she accused. "What are you doing lurking around in the dark?"
"I ain't lurkin'," he said, and then waved something in front of her face. She heard a sloshing sound and realized he had raided the alcohol stash again. The sharp stench of whiskey hit her nostrils and she pushed the bottle out of her face.
"Gross."
Daryl shook his head. "This is the good shit. What, you too uppity to drink?"
"Had a bad experience with alcohol," Jack said, trying not to let his condescending tone get to her. She scooted around him and opened the pantry. She flipped the interior light switch on. The bulb inside cast a bluish glow across the kitchen. She could see Daryl leaning against the counter. Shadows played over his body, and she noticed for the first time just how muscular his arms were. How had that escaped her attention before?
"You jus' gonna stand there and stare at the fuckin' light? Like a bug?"
Oh right. She had been too distracted by his foul, offensive mouth. She snatched the six-pack of grape sodas from the shelf and turned the light back off. She moved to leave the kitchen, but paused and turned to face Daryl. "Daryl?"
"What?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Are you gonna even if I say no?"
"Yes."
Daryl took an audible swig from the bottle. "What d'ya want?"
"Why a crossbow?"
"What?"
"Why do you carry a crossbow? I mean," she felt stupid, suddenly, for even asking this, but couldn't make herself shut up and walk away, "I know it's quieter than a gun. But isn't it tedious? Having to pull it taut? It doesn't exactly have the easiest ammo to load. Wouldn't a gun be simpler? Or, I don't know, a machete?"
Daryl snorted. "You don't know nothin', do you?"
Jack sighed. This had been a mistake. She started to turn back around and walk out, but Daryl's voice stopped her.
"I use it to hunt. Always have."
Jack nodded. That made sense, she supposed. She had grown up in Texas, surrounded by hunting enthusiasts. She had known boys from school who swore by the crossbow for hunting wild boar. Made it more of a sport, they said. More of a challenge. Somehow, though, she didn't think Daryl hunted for the fun of it. She thought he had probably taken to hunting as a necessity, a means for survival. He didn't seem like the sort of person to go thrill-seeking, there was just something too serious about him.
She started to leave again, but was once again stopped by Daryl's voice.
"Hey," he said. "I gotta question for you."
"Yeah?"
"You'll answer honest?"
"That depends," she said.
"On what?"
"On how uncomfortable your question makes me," she shrugged.
"What kind of bad experience did you have drinkin'?" His voice was as callous as ever, but there was something gentle and curious to the words. He sounded genuinely interested.
Jack hesitated. She didn't talk about this memory very often, rarely even thought about it. It was one of those life lessons, one of those things that could have gone very badly for her. "When I was in high school I got really drunk at a party. I passed out and woke up to this guy trying to take my clothes off. He and his friends were going to take advantage of me, but when I started yelling and fighting back someone heard and came to help me." Daryl had gone eerily quiet and still, so Jack went on. "I don't drink because I don't want to lose control. I don't want to be caught in a situation like that again. There might not be someone to help me like that."
Daryl took another drink but didn't say anything more, so Jack left. She wasn't sure why she had told him that story, summarized though it was. It's not like they were friends. It's not like he cared about her life. Maybe she was just tired and the filter between her brain and mouth had stopped working.
She pinched the bridge of her nose as she made her way to the rec room. She would look for a book and then settle into a room to read and mull over her embarrassing admission to Daryl. Daryl! Of all people!
Jack opened the door to the rec room and heard the sound of a struggle. She looked up to see Lori pushed up against a pinball machine and Shane trying to kiss her, trying to dip his fingers into her shorts. Before Jack could intervene, Lori scratched the side of Shane's face and he backed off with a hiss of pain.
Lori looked up and spotted Jack and all the blood seemed to drain out of the older woman's face. Shane spun around quickly, his eyes taking in Jack standing in the doorway with a six-pack of sodas tucked under her arm.
Shane looked lost for words. He had just been caught in a very compromising situation, and from Lori's silent sobs, it looked very bad indeed. He opened his mouth to explain himself, but then snapped it closed. He shot an angry look between Lori and Jack and then stormed out of the room, slamming the door to the rec room behind him.
Jack shuffled her feet, uncomfortable being alone with Lori after what she had just walked in on. "Are you okay?"
Lori had a hand over her mouth and was staring at the carpet with wide, wet eyes. She nodded and said, "It…it isn't what you think, Jack."
"I don't think anything," Jack said quickly. "And even if I did, I wouldn't say anything to anyone else."
"That's really good of you," Lori said.
"No, I just don't like conflict," Jack said. She motioned to the bookcase. "If you're alright, I'm just going to grab a book, and, uh, disappear."
Lori nodded and smiled despite herself. "Go ahead."
Jack went to inspect the book titles and heard Lori leave the room behind her. She breathed out in relief. It had been an eventful day, and she was ready for some alone time. Her fingers skimmed over the book spines until she found one that looked promising. She snagged it and walked back to her room, glad when she didn't encounter anyone in the hall. She locked herself in the room for the night, thankful for the space, the privacy, and the normalcy of it all. It was like a piece of the past, and she wished it could last forever.
There you are, chapter 3. Little Daryl interaction there. Pretty soon we're going to see some of his perspective, especially as we move into season 2 territory. Please review.