Part Eleven
A strange, unwelcome feeling was bubbling inside Jesse's gut, and he was slowly realizing what it was – curiosity. He wanted to see what lay behind the man who had caused all of this trouble, who had inspired Daryl not only to ride out but to bring Jesse along with him.
This "Ed" had to be a bad man, and evil man – but was he worse or more evil than anyone Jesse had known at the compound? Was that something that was even possible?
Daryl leaned in to rattle the doorknob of the house.
"I can hear him inside. Hell, I can almost smell him inside," Daryl growled. He reminded Jesse of some kind of hound-dog that was going to chase an escaped prisoner to the end of the Earth in somewhere like Alcatraz.
Jesse took a deep breath. He was ready for this, or at the very least, he had to be. There was no turning back.
Daryl rattled the locked door one more time before he stepped back a few paces and then proceeded to run at the door with full strength and full tilt. The door buckled under his weight, and Jesse stood there in shock yet again. Something large and powerful, reinforced – it seemed wrong somehow that it should crumble against the weight of only one man.
But yet, then there was the question of who this man was. He had saved Jesse, somehow, and now he would be saving… he would be…
Jesse had to stop standing around, and he needed to help Daryl.
The younger man flew into the room directly behind Daryl, and suddenly it seemed as if his ears were on fire. There was screaming coming from everywhere. Some of the screaming sounded like it was coming from a man, but he could hear a woman's voice, too. He wondered if that was Daryl's Carol and Sophia.
Suddenly he was filled with panic, as if a hand was crushing his heart. He hadn't fully realized it until now, but hearing those yells, it seemed as if his own family was in danger… again.
He rushed in the direction of the yelling, up the stairs and into the back-most room.
"Don't come any closer."
Jesse stopped short, dead in his tracks. He felt like he had been nailed there.
He saw a man standing in front of a tiny little stick of a girl – no more than twelve but probably younger – holding a knife against the girl's neck. Every synapse was firing telling Jesse to run, telling him he could not be in a situation like this again, not when he'd felt the cold hand of death hanging over Andrea and Brock every night in the compound. He couldn't do it again; maybe he just needed to listen to the man, needed to not come any closer. If he ran, if he chose to flee, the girl would be fine and maybe somehow in time she could forget, just like he would try to.
"Let's just calm down," Jesse said, "There's no need to do anything crazy. You have something that… I…" He wasn't sure if the man had seen Daryl yet, so he figured it would be best to leave that particular surprise up in the air. "Want, and I probably have something that you want." But what, Jesse wondered. What could he toss it there as a bargain to at least distract him long enough to get the girl away? And where was Carol, the woman? Was she escaped, or already dead? He couldn't imagine her leaving her child behind.
"You have something I want? I find that pretty surprising considering I've never fucking seen your tiny ass ever in my entire life!" He wobbled with anger, and the knife seemed to press ever closer with every second. Jesse began to shake, first internally and then outward, each vibration becoming readily apparent and seeming to scream out that he wasn't cut out for this, that he should have stayed home or even in the compound where at least he'd been put to some kind of use.
"I was part of the biggest meth empire you've ever seen," Jesse blurted, moving his head, "Or rather, that you haven't seen, because whatever shit you're into must be pretty small potatoes." He felt like a kid dressing up in his father's suits and standing on top of some other kid's shoulders, trying to be an adult. But somehow, it seemed to be working – Ed had loosened his grip on the knife, just a tad. Was it going to be enough, though? Jesse wasn't sure – all he could do was try to keep talking, keep distracting. Pretend he was back in Mexico, talking big.
"So maybe if you'd like to stop bullshitting and let this little kid go, we can go ahead and talk money."
"I know who sent you. All I want to know is where he is so I can blow his white trash head off!" Ed's scream rang through the house, and the girl shuddered against the knife. Jesse could see a tear running down her face, and he wanted to kill this man more than he'd ever wanted to kill anyone before. Even more than Todd or Jack or even Mr. White all those times he'd fucked Jesse over.
"I'm right here."
Jesse turned to try and get Daryl in his sights, to look to him for some kind of direction. What Mr. White had been or had tried to be or what Jesse had wanted him to be, Daryl had become.
And more.
So there was some part of Jesse that knew just the direction to turn, just the place to stnd when Daryl Dixon effortlessly blew Ed Peletier's head clear off.
Jesse could still hear him screaming minutes later, like he was still in the room somehow.
He would have thought that he would feel more.
