Day 2
Christmas Shopping
"You know," Daryl offered, sitting on the counter of the small little store, his shirt peeled, his face bruised with pain as Hershel applied new bandages on his body, "My ma... She used to say there ain't ever no snow in Georgia in December. Never comes till February. The year after she died, it snowed on Christmas day. I never did forget that."
"We used to spend Christmas up north," Glenn replied, moving some canned foods into his backpack as he spoke, "My parents didn't really celebrate it... It wasn't part of our culture. We had family in Wisconsin that did celebrate, though, so we'd go visit them. There was always tons of snow... I wonder if they survived. It's probably getting awfully cold up there."
"We need to prepare ourselves," Rick spoke up now, his eyes still peeled on the glass entrance to the small store, watching for Walkers, "There could be a lot of migrants moving down South. We need to find some more permanent shelter. Winter's going to be cold, and we need to be safe." He eyed Lori. "All of us."
"Man, it's like I been sayin'," T-Dog interjected, "We gotta move down further south towards Florida."
"Maybe that's not such a bad idea," Rick replied, "Start moving further south."
"Beat the cold," Hershel agreed, "I've got some family in the Panhandle. If they're still alive, maybe we can find shelter with them."
"Imagine that," Rick replied, cracking a smile, "Sippin' martinis on the beach."
Eyeing the tired and bruised up crowd, his face hardened. "I'll think about it. Florida's a long ways from Fort Benning. I'm not sure if it's the best idea for us to be traveling so far."
Nobody dared issue a rebuttal.
._=~-_
Beth's eyes opened gently to the smell of dying camp fire smoke. She could feel the uncomfortable seat of the Hyundai underneath her, and longer for warmth, her skin cold from the night. Sitting up gently, she noticed she was alone in the vehicle, parked just off the road where they'd set up camp the night before, just a bit into the forest which Glenn had almost crashed into yesterday. Opening the car door, she could hear the ding, ding, ding it insisted on making until she closed the door.
She examined her surroundings. Carol was seated firmly on a cinder block around the fire. Carl was nearby, poking the ashes with a stick he'd found. She frowned. How long had she been asleep? Where was her sister and everyone else? She pondered these things as she made her way towards the back of the Hyundai. Silently, she began to hum to herself. She'd been doing that a lot lately. Singing songs she could remember, trying to keep her sanity.
Opening the trunk of the Hyundai, she pulled out her pink little duffel bag with leopard prints. Even with zombies invading, it was something personalized, something that was hers. Pulling out her clothes, she neatly clutched them to her chest as she closed the trunk of the Hyundai and started slightly deeper into the forest, not out of ear shot's range but just enough out to give her some privacy. Normally she and Maggie would cover each others back, but it seemed that it was just her, Carl, and Carol here at the moment. Besides, what could possibly happen? She couldn't have been more than five feet away from camp.
Carl, meanwhile, could not have been more bored. One thing about being a kid growing up during a zombie apocalypse? There's really not that much to do. There was no more television, no more internet. Nothing like that. Sophia had been about Carl's age and that'd been great. He and Sophia had gotten a long nicely, actually, and they'd found things to keep themselves occupied back at the original camp. They'd made up games. Found ways to not be so bored.
And then there had been Shane. Shane had always taken the time out of his day to entertain Carl. He'd taken Carl fishing, taught him how to build a camp fire... Carl frowned. No. Shane was a bad man. He tried to kill Carl's dad.
Carl tried not to think about that. It was easier just to ignore that. To forget Shane all together. Just thinking about Shane made Carl want to cry, and right now he could feel tears gathering in his -
ROAAAARRRRR!
Carl and Carol jumped to alert at the sound of the Walker's growl, followed by Beth's scream as the poor girl came running out from the woods, jeans on backwards and her shirt in a rumbled mess, only one of her shoes on and the other in her hand. Tripping, falling to Carol's feet, she quickly helped the girl up and tried to console her. Carl, meanwhile, found his hands shaking, clutching onto his rifle. It was locked and loaded, ready to go. He rushed into the forest. He could hear Carol's shouts for him to wait behind him, but he didn't. He had to protect the group. He had to protect Carol and Beth, it's what his dad would do, but honestly, he was scared to death.
He could see it near the tree stump. It was graveling, moving, walking around. A Walker, no doubt. It's hands reaching, searching, confused, the smell of human scent on Beth's discarded clothing, but no human to be found. Walking. Searching. Hungry. It needed to eat. Raaawellgjfjelllalidkso it was calling out, demanding for its food to come back, searching, lost, without any relative sense of direction.
Carl's gun was pointed. He knew how to do it. He'd done it before, to Shane, but could he do it again? That was to save his dad. But this was to save Carol and Beth, so it was the same, right? No immediate danger. It wasn't that easy to just pull the trigger. It was... Do it, Carl.
With a deep breath in, he remembered everything they'd taught him. Ready. Squeeze.
Psk pow.
Resounding echos of the gun shot, but it wasn't Carl who'd fired his weapon. The Walker was dead, but Carl was genuinely confused, then concerned. Turning, his gun ready, he searched for the source of the gunshot. There. A woman with long, black hair; fair, olive skin; tattered black leather clothing. Carl didn't know who this woman was, but she looked like cat woman.
._=~-_
The group split off the scavenge the rest of town square. Daryl, Rick, and T-Dog were searching for parts – or at least a hammer – to fix up T-Dog's small dent and Daryl's irrevocably damaged motorcycle. Hershel and Lori were searching for some medical supplies for Daryl – bandages, mainly – he'd be fine. He was already back on his feet, but Hershel would have to keep an eye on him. Lastly, Glenn and Maggie were seeing if there was anything else they could round up.
The boys managed to find a small auto-parts shop, a local one. As they approached the building, eyeing the open garages, the abandoned cars lifted into the air by equipment, ready to be inspected – they pulled out their weapons – T-Dog carrying an arrow, a bow ready to go; Daryl carrying a large, metal club; Rick carrying a shot-gun – and got ready to fire at any Walkers they might find inside. Quickly and quietly moving into the garage, they heard nothing. Looking into the cars, they found a few dead, rotting bodies – mechanics – with gun wounds in their heads. No Walkers.
"We're all clear," Rick announced, digging through equipment, looking for anything they could use. Daryl made his way towards the offices of the small repair shop – abandoned, of course, but it smelled just as bad as the dead bodies in the garage. There was a desk in the office with a computer and some old papers upon it, customer invoices and the like – and a picture of a man in a greasy outfit at the shop posing with his daughter. Probably the owner. Daryl's focus wasn't on the old picture of long gone times, though – instead, it was on the bottle of bourbon he found in one of the drawers of the desk. Grinning, he picked it up and moved back out into the garage.
"Hey," he called out.
"What'd you find?" Rick asked as he and T-Dog stopped their searches, joining Daryl in the middle of the garage with a few parts gathered in their hands. When Rick eyed Daryl's bottle of bourbon, a smile spread across his face and he started chuckling. "Yeah. I think I'll take that off your hands."
._=~-_
"You know," Hershel broke the awkward silence as he and Lori dug through the counters at the pharmacy. "It's none of my business, but I've noticed that there seems to be a wedge between you and Rick. If there's ever anything you need to talk about..."
"Thanks," Lori replied abruptly, "I appreciate that, Hershel. Rick and I... We... We're just going through a rough patch. That's all."
"Lori, I've been married twice in my life, and believe me, we had our share of rough patches. Not talking to your spouse in two weeks is more than what we call a rough patch. Now, I know it's not my place, but what's best for you and Rick is what's best for all of us. Have you tried talking to him? Rick's a good man. He can see reason."
"Rick... Rick is a good man. I've let him down. As a wife, I've failed him, and I can see it in his eyes. When I... When he told me what had happened. When he told me everything. I wanted to be there for him, I really did, but I-"
"You felt hurt. We all did. But people are finally realizing that Rick's our only hope to get through this, and we've got to support him."
"I know. I just don't know if he'll let me in," Lori replied, "I can't even get Carl to talk to me."
"Everything's going to be just fine," Hershel assured her, "You've just gotta believe in your marriage. You've got to have faith."
._=~-_
"Damn it, kid," the woman cursed as Carl took in her sexy figure. She was walking towards him, but he reaffirmed his stance, holding his gun up to make her stop. "Relax, I'm not going to hurt you."
She put her gun, a sawed-off-shot-gun, down, and Carl slowly lowered his. The woman crouched down over the dead Walker, pulling out a knife and cutting into his fingers.
"You made me kill my bate."
"B-bate!?" Carl replied, unsure what to make of the situation.
"Bate. Well, not really bate. I call it bate, but I guess it's more of a tracker. The Walker searches for food, and I follow behind it. If I'm lucky, it finds a dear, and I get to it before this guy does."
"That's crazy," Carl replied.
"Food supply's low. A girl's gotta eat, and I like the taste of fresh dear meat better than the taste of canned, processed food. What's your name?"
"Carl," he replied, "What's yours?"
"Meagan. What's a kid like you doing out in the middle of the woods alone, anyway?"
"He's not alone," Carol replied, walking up to Carl and putting her hand on his shoulder, glaring coldly at Meagan.
"Who's this, kid? Your grandma?" Meagan replied, raising an eyebrow.
"Who are you?" Carol demanded.
"Relax, lady. Don't get your panties in a bunch. I'm just passing by, searching for food."
"I think you need to go," Carol replied.
"Relax" Meagan replied, sawing into the Walker with her knife, "I'll be out of your hair just as soon as I'm done with this guy. I need his body parts to attract a new one. If I burn these body parts, it releases their scent, attracts them like crazy."
"That sounds dangerous," Carl replied, "You need to go. Far away. Light your fire somewhere else."
"Why?" Meagan replied, "You got a camp or something?"
"You don't need to know about that!" Carol fired back.
Rick's voice came over the walkie talkie radio that Carol had fastened to her belt buckle. "Carol, come in."
"Who's that?" Meagan asked, amused as she stood up, depositing the freshly cut body parts into the book bag she wore upon her back, "Your husband?"
"What?" Carol asked, "Hell no."
Carol still had a hard time even looking at Rick, the bastard.
"Look, kids," Meagan settled, "I'm going to meet back up with my camp. We'll set the fire a few miles away. You won't have to worry about us."
She started to walk away.
"Wait!" Carl shouted out, "How many of you are there?"
"Tell your grandma to take a chill pill, kid!" Meagan shouted out as she disappeared into the tree line.
._=~-_
By about noon, the group had met back up at the center of town square. All together, today, they'd managed to round up enough food for a week, some fresh water, auto-supplies (and a hammer), a big, unopened bottle of bourbon (Wild Turkey), bandages, some pain killers, three extra containers of gas in case of emergency, and a bunch of CD's.
As they loaded it all up into their cars, Rick noted, "We've gotten lucky so far. Some of these smaller towns are a lot more full of supplies, but I think we've got to start planning. Looters have picked off a lot of these places, and it's only going to get worse the more time goes on. We need to start checking houses, seeing what we can find there."
"There's a neighborhood just around the block. Should we go check there?"
"No, that's fine," Rick replied, "This is plenty for now. Did anyone find any ammunition?"
No response.
"We're getting low. Might be a good idea to look for a pawn shop next time we stop."
"We could check in Plains," Daryl suggested, "Who knows. Maybe Jimmy Carter's still alive down there too."
"At the very least, we'd have a lot of peanuts," T-Dog added.
"Plains is a long way away," Rick replied, "This is exactly what I'm talking about. We've got to start searching these houses. Somebody's bound to have weapons and ammo waiting for the taking. We'll come back tomorrow and check it out. For now, we need to be getting back to camp."
"Rick," Maggie replied, walking over to Rick, a walky-talky radio in her hand, "Carol's on the radio. She says there's a problem."
...
"Okay, Rick," Carol replied as she held the radio to her mouth with one hand and comforted Beth with the other, "We're all safe here. Take your time."
Putting the radio on the ground, Carol stood up, looking down at poor, frightened Beth sympathetically. "I'll be right back. I have to go up to the road to signal the others so they don't pass the camp. Are you going to be okay here?"
"I-I'm fine," Beth replied, not sure if she really was fine or not.
"Carl," Carol said, motioning him over to her, "Can you keep an eye on Beth? She's a little shaken up, and I don't want her here alone."
"Sure thing," Carl replied, "Leave it to me."
Carol smiled. "You're growing into quite the young man, you know that?"
Carl tried hard not to smile as Carol turned and started walking towards the road.
Carl proceeded to find the stick he'd been poking the fire with earlier. He continued his poking, a way to kill the time in such a boring day and age, but his mind was elsewhere. Who was that woman back there, he wondered. What had she intended to do with that Walker? What kind of food was she searching for? These things and more were racing through his mind, and he barely even noticed that Beth had started to cry, tears flooding her face.
"I really am useless, aren't I?" Beth complained.
"Yep," Carl agreed. An angry look spread across Beth's face, but Carl shot her a grin. "Sorry, that was mean."
"I can't even shoot a gun! How am I supposed to survive out here when I can't even shoot a gun?"
"My dad says that he's going to start training everyone soon," Carl replied. "You're everyone, right?"
"I don't think my dad will let me even hold a gun."
"If my dad says he's going to do something, he does it," Carl protested. "He's in charge now."
"Yeah," Beth replied, wiping the tears away from her face, "I guess."
/
"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWW!"
Daryl was having the time of his life.
His motorcycle was back at the camp still, but as the group had set out of town, he set his sites on an abandoned ATV on the side of the road in a ditch next to some old mattresses and a few old beer bottles. The ATV still worked, and some of the parts could be used to help repair Daryl's bike – so Daryl volunteered to drive it back (despite Hershel's objections about how he needed to take it easy), and one thing led to another...
And now Glenn was riding behind Daryl. On the mattress. Lying down. Being pulled by the four wheeler. Yes. Glenn was mattress surfing. He and Daryl had huge, stupid grins on their face as they road along in the wind, but in the vehicles behind them were a very frightened Maggie and Lori. Neither Rick nor T-Dog seemed to think the situation was very reckless, and Hershel stayed silent on the matter.
"Let them have fun," Rick had said, "What's it going to hurt?"
"That's what I'm worried about," Lori had replied.
Still, here they were, zipping down the old country road.
"HEY! Daryl!" Glenn shouted out against the wind.
"WHAT? SPEAK UP, SON!" Daryl shouted back.
"GO FASTER!" Glenn shouted.
Daryl seemed to hear that just fine, as he turned his head and gave Glenn a stupid grin which made Glenn insanely worried when -
"STOP!" Glenn yelled, pointing in front of Daryl, making him whip his head around to s-
Screeeeeeech.
This time, luckily, nobody crashed into anything.
There was a woman standing in the middle of the road, a sawed-off-shot-gun in her hand and nothing but black leather clothing her body. Next thing anyone knew, everyone was pulled over, weapons drawn at this now-very-out-numbered-but-incredibly-sexy woman – little did they know, it was Meagan, the same woman Carl and Carol had just encountered.
"Put down the gun," Rick demanded, "And no one has to get hurt."
"My, my, my," Meagan commented, "Quite the impressive caravan. You folks must be with the camp that boy I just ran into was talking about."
"You've got a funny way of trying to make peace!" Rick shouted back.
"Easy, big guy," Meagan replied, dropping her gun, "He was quite the handsome young boy. I wonder, who's son is he? Is it..."
She walked over towards Daryl, who's crossbow was ready to go, wavering, but for some reason, he didn't shoot an arrow at her – he was entranced and a little confused as she walked over to him, admiring him, running her hand across his scruffy face. "Yours?"
She smiled a seductive smile, walking towards Rick now.
"One more step and I won't hesitate to shoot you," Rick warned her.
"You boys sure know how to treat a lady," Meagan replied, stopping.
"What did you do to my son!?" Lori demanded.
"Oh, calm your tits, hon," Meagan replied, shaking her head, "I didn't touch him. He killed my Walker though."
"Your walker? What do you mean your walker?" Glenn quizzed, hoping Maggie didn't see how his eyes were darting on her body – he couldn't help it. It was the leather.
"For hunting," Meagan replied, rolling her eyes, "Look, I thought you were someone else. That's why I held you all up. I'm just gonna be going no-"
"NOT SO FAST!" Rick shouted. "You said you were at our camp."
"Yeah, I guess I was near it. Why?"
Rick's eyes met with Daryl's, and then with Hershel's who just gave Rick a nod.
Pow.
/
Carol sighed, cradling her head in her hands as she sat, waiting, on the hood of the beaten up Acura. Rick and the group sure were taking their sweet time. With a bit of idle curiosity, she stood up and walked over to the passenger door of the Acura, opening it and sitting in the seat of the car. Looking around to see what she could scavenge, she found a bunch of CD's, some bottles of water, a few blankets, a plastic bag of what looked like jerky, and a bunch of papers – including a map. Folding the map out before her, she could see that it was a map of the county they were in, with huge, red circles drawn around certain parts of it, and a green circle around the part of the county they were currently in, as well as around a few other areas.
Folding the map back up, she opened the dashboard. She found a few more zip log bags of some white, crushed up powder and a hand written note:
Paul,
Didn't want to wake you. Going into the woods to hunt; I should be back in about a week. Remember to feed the prisoners and be careful out there. If we're lucky, I should be able to find enough meat to get us through the rest of the month. Don't miss me too much. Get Jackson to help you move supplies if you find someone passing by.
Your kitten,
Meagan
Carol was distracted from the note when she heard the roar of engines approaching. She stepped out of the Acura and walked back over to the road to see the caravan, plus a four wheeler, drive up. She flashed a smile at Daryl, but she could see concern in his eyes. Oh God. Who got killed.
That's when she saw a woman dressed up in leather tied up on Daryl's mattress.
And when Meagan's eyes met Carol's, they showed pain – blood was gushing out of her leg. And then, she saw the dead body of Paul on the road next to Carol, and she started to scream.
/
"Dad!" Carl rushed up to his dad the moment he stepped out of the Chevy.
"Not now, Carl. Give your mother a hand unloading the supplies."
Rick moved quickly towards the four wheeler, where Daryl was waiting for him, hovering over Meagan as tears streamed down her face and blood poured out of her leg. Hershel was quick to join them, ready to get to work, and Carl watched silently as he realized that this was the woman he'd seen earlier.
"Dad, that-"
"Carl!" Rick said more sternly, "I said to help your mother. Don't make me repeat myself again."
Carl turned slowly and walked over to his mother, who was unloading supplies from the Hyundai.
"Here, Carl, take this," Lori said, handing Carl a cardboard box, "We'll set it by the fire until it's time for dinner."
Carl obediently took the box, but his mind was full of questions.
"Mom," Carl said, "What happened?"
"Don't worry, honey," Lori replied, "That woman is just someone we ran into on the road, but your dad's got it under control."
"Mom, you don't have to protect me."
"I'll always protect you, Carl, you're my baby boy."
"Nobody tells me anything around here," Carl muttered, walking away.
"Hey!" Lori sternly called out, "Watch your tone."
Carl didn't turn around, and Lori just sighed a deep sigh. What am I going to do about him.
Carl quickly put the cardboard box of food down by the fire as Beth approached him.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"The woman I ran into in the woods," Carl explained, "The one who killed the Walker. They've got her tied up. She's been shot."
"Shot?" Beth asked, a tint of worry in her voice, "Is everyone okay? - Maggie? My dad?"
"Yeah," Carl replied, "Everyone's fine."
"Okay," Hershel said quietly to the men huddled around him – and Carol - "We'll have to hold her steady. This is going to hurt. A lot."
Daryl voluntarily held down her upper-body as Rick held down her legs. Carol moved quickly to the Hyundai and, digging through it, found a clean sock and walked back over to Meagan.
"Open up," Carol demanded. Meagan refused. "I'm only going to tell you once."
Meagan sighed, opening her mouth as Carol stuffed the sock into it. Hershel dug through his medical bag, finding a knife and a few alcoholic pads and a cloth.
"Glenn," Hershel said now, looking up towards Glenn.
"Oh, I can't – I'm a little squeamish. I mean, I know we kill Walkers all the time, but-"
"Can you bring me that bottle of bourbon now?"
"Oh. Right. On it."
As Glenn moved to find the bourbon, Hershel looked up at Carol. "You said you wanted to learn. I hope you still have that same desire."
"What do you need me to do, Hershel?" Carol replied.
"When I cut through the leg, we're going to have to get the bullet fragments out. As soon as I've got them out, we're going to have to stop the bleeding as quickly as possible. You're going to have to apply as much pressure to the wound as you can."
"Right," Carol confirmed, "That I can do."
"Good."
"Here you go, Hershel," Glenn said, handing Hershel the bottle of Wild Turkey. Opening it up with a pop, he took the cap of the liquor and poured a bit into it. Gently pouring the bourbon in the cap onto his knife, he handed the bottle and the cap back to Glenn and looked over to the others.
"Ready?"
/
As Meagan's muffled screams echoed into the sock in her mouth, Carl's eyes were set on the road at the edge of the forest, which he was slowly walking towards. It wasn't Meagan's screams he was hearing, but something else, something in the distance, from the road. He needed to find what it was. So, softly, he walked, hearing the crunch of the leaves under his boots, feeling the cold winter wind blowing into his face.
By the time he reached the tree line, he could distinctly hear it, now. It wasn't just one engine. It was a number of them – about three, it sounded like. Quietly setting his boots into the steep hill he'd climbed earlier, he made his way up, listening intently, stopping just before getting to the top, his eyes peering onto the road, hoping he didn't get caught.
There were two trucks and a large van in park near the Acura. Carl could see boots moving from where he was, on the other side of the van. The boots were moving towards the van, where they stopped. Carl could hear a sliding door opening on the van, and then heard a rather loud thump as they threw something inside. Then, some of the boots disappeared, men stepping inside, while a few others moved into clear sight – they were all men dressed in tattered hunting clothing. A few got inside their trucks, and one stepped into the driver's position of the van. A beat, and then the vehicles made their way down the road towards town.
Carl noticed it immediately once the trucks were gone. They'd taken the body of the Acura driver.
/
Two hours passed. Meagan was still passed out from the pain of her surgery, tied up with better restraints now, around a tree. Daryl was working on his bike, and T-Dog was making the bed of his truck into, well, a literal bed with the mattress, strapping it down. Rick and Hershel were checking out the scene on the road after Carl had told them about what had happened with the trucks earlier. Maggie and Glenn were keeping guard, walking the perimeter of the camp and killing any Walkers they might have found. Beth was taking a nap, which left poor Carl all by himself drawing figures in the dirt, sitting near Meagan, watching, thinking, waiting as his mom and Carol talked by the camp fire.
He was so curious about this strange woman. The way she hadn't seemed afraid when Carl had pointed his gun at her. The way she'd cut off the limbs of the walker. How... Pretty she was. Being a growing boy, Carl found it... Awkward. He was starting puberty in the middle of the zombie apocalypse, after all. Sex wasn't thing on his mind these days. But of course he thought about it. Hormones were raging through his body.
Sighing, he stood up. He was just so confused. He'd had a crush on Sophia before – well, to be honest, she'd had the crush on him, and she'd told him that – just before, well, y'know. It made him sad to think about it. Because when he did think about it, he realized that, well, he'd liked Sophia back. But she was dead. Everyone died. That's what his dad had said. He had to stop being such a kid.
So, how did he do that, anyway? What was a man supposed to act like? He needed to learn, and how better to learn but through the power of observation? Walking past the camp fire where his mom and Carol were jabbering away, and over to where the vehicles were parked, he saw Daryl, sitting on a log by his bike, a wrench in his hand as he did, well, whatever he was doing. Carl watched silently, trying to observe the handy work, to learn more about, well, motorcycles, and it wasn't long before Daryl noticed. He almost told the kid to scram, but decided to take a nicer approach instead.
"Hey, kid," Daryl motioned Carl over, "I need you to get me the rear axle sleeve off that four wheeler, think you can handle it?"
"Y-yeah," Carl replied. He didn't really know what a rear axle sleeve was, but how hard could it be? Moving over to the four wheeler, Carl picked up the spare wrench off the ground and bent down by the back wheel. Rear axle, right? He looked at the wheel for a good few minutes before finally realizing he had no idea what he was doing.
"Um... I... Have to go... Do... Something," Carl explained, dropping the wrench and running off, leaving Daryl to just laugh as he continued working on the bike.
Okay, so, maybe motorcycles weren't his thing, but T-Dog was manly, right? Approaching T-Dog, Carl watched as he fastened down the mattress in the bed of his truck. T-Dog eventually noticed Carl and didn't say anything but did give him a 'man-what-you-doin' look before shrugging it off.
"Won't the Walkers be able to get to you easier if you're stuck in the truck bed?" Carl offered – it wouldn't be as easy to escape a truck bed as it would to escape the cold hard ground in the middle of the night.
"Man, I dunno," T-Dog replied, "But I sure as hell ain't gonna sleep without a gun like some fool."
"Do you need help?" Carl offered eagerly.
"I ain't needin' any help, I think I got it."
"Um... Okay."
Carl sighed, picking up his stick and walking back over to the tree where Meagan was tied up to continue drawing. He'd learn to be a man tomorrow. For today, he'd just continue drawing. It was going to be evening soon, and his dad would be returning with Hershel any minute, and Maggie and Glenn would be back, too. And Beth would be awake. He'd have things to do, but for now, he just kept drawing. It suited him just fine.
...
By the time Rick and Hershel returned from their fruitless adventure on the road – searching for the men Carl had seen – it was getting dark. Rick had decided to set up camp there for the night and leave first thing in the morning – they'd drop Meagan off somewhere outside of town. But in the meanwhile, they had a bottle of bourbon and food for dinner, so it was time to have a night of fun, something the group rarely got these days.
Carol and Lori were getting the food ready, cooking over the open flame.
"Soo," Lori offered, making sure nobody else was around to listen in, "What's up with you and Daryl?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Carol replied, a smile on her face.
"Mhm," Lori replied, "Listen. You be careful with him. Those Dixon boys are a little too wild sometimes."
"I need a little wild," Carol replied, "God knows Ed was a lot of things – a drunk, for one – but he was never wild, unless he was beating me.
"Do you... Nevermind."
"No, what is it?" Carol asked.
"Do you ever miss him? Excuse me. I know it's none of my business, it's... just..."
"You and Rick?" Carol asked knowingly. "Some days I miss him. Then I remember how much pain he put us through. I think it's Sophia I miss most of all... It's... It's hard," she swallowed hard, "When your baby's gone."
"I can only imagine what you're going through," Lori replied, "Here I am, babbling on about my marriage problems, and you've gone through so much."
"Yeah, well," she rubbed the tears out of her eyes, "I rely on God's strength to get me through it. One day at a time. And I survive. We've all lost so much. The only thing we can do is stick together."
/
Daryl was burning hot.
No, really. The muscle relaxing ointment Hershel had made him apply to his back was burning hot, and it itched too. T-Dog had just gotten his mattress strapped in and it'd taken some convincing for Daryl to get to lie down on it, but it was the most comfortable place for his muscles to relax. So comfy, in fact, that he slowly started to doze off to sleep.
"Hey, Daryl."
Daryl groaned. "This better be pretty damn important, kid."
"Sorry," Carl replied, "I was wondering if you could give me some pointers on something but I'll come back later."
Carl let out a deep sigh. He was just about to go ask his dad for advice when he saw his mom get up from the camp fire and start moving towards him. Deciding not to disturb Daryl any further, he walked towards his mom. He knew that she and his dad weren't talking, and that kind of upset him, but he still loved both of his parents, even if they annoyed him sometimes.
"Carl, why don't you go wash your hands? It's almost time for dinner."
Ugh. Why did she always treat him like a little kid?
Lori started walking towards the road. Rick, Glenn, T-Dog, and Hershel were up there, well, doing whatever guys did. It was probably a bad time, but it'd been pressing on Lori's mind for a few hours now. Their marriage was falling apart. Lori needed to talk with Rick, needed to repair the broken damage, and she couldn't wait any longer. She had to do it. For Carl and herself. She needed Rick.
When Lori got to the edge of the tree line, she glanced at the steep hill and, with a deep breath and a mini-pep-talk, decided to go ahead and climb it instead of walking down the road the half-a-mile distance to where the hill got less steep. Lori was doing good and was about half-way-up when she lost her footing and started to fall, letting out a small scream before stopping her fall. That was a close one. She didn't know what to do now, and was trying to work up the courage to keep climbing when she heard a voice.
"Give me your hand."
It was her husband. She stretched her hand out towards him, but she couldn't reach. Climbing on up a little bit higher, she managed to reach his hand with a little more effort, and she could feel him pulling her up. Her eyes looked down, trying to avoid, well, how awkward this was. The words Hershel had given her earlier that morning were running through her head.
"Is everything okay?" Rick asked, not overly-sincere, once she was on solid ground. She could see T-Dog, Hershel, and Glenn around a small fire near the Acura on the other side of the road.
"Yeah. Dinner's almost ready, I just... thought... you guys might... Everything's fine," Lori replied, "Well, no. Not really. Rick, I know we haven't really been getting along lately, and well, I mean, I'm sorry for what I d.. Um. But, uh-"
Rick's eyes were harsh.
"Spit it out."
"I want you."
A beat.
"...What did you just say?"
"Not... you... as in... you," Lori said, her eyes glancing over Rick's... handsome body. "I mean, I do want you, but - Oh my God."
Rick just shook his head.
"Rick, we need to talk."
But it was too late. Rick was already walking away. Why was he always walking away?
/
"So, here comes ol' Earl," Rick explained, laughing his ass off as he took another swig of bourbon. The laughter of the other three guys was equally as loud, "Here comes Earl, right? And, and. Okay. And he had this stupid look on his face, just looking around, trying to find out where he was, and he looks at us, and, and, Billy says, 'Problem, deputy?' and he just says, 'I think I grabbed the wrong pack of cigarettes.'"
It'd been a stupid joke to be sure, but everything was funnier when you were drinking with your buddies, and this seemed hysterical to the men as they sat around their small fire, off the side of the road in the small grass field opposite to the forest where they'd set up camp.
"I had this buddy up in Atlanta," Glenn explained, "Who, whenever I would call him or go over to his apartment, he'd always be on his phone a lot. Well, one day, I get ov-"
Vroooooooom, vroom vrooooooom.
Glenn's story was cut short by the flooding sight of headlights on the road as tires squeeled. The four men immediately stood up, alarmed, drawing their weapons. To their surprise, they saw T-Dog's truck come over the hill on the other side of the road, pull onto the road itself, and then take off towards town.
"That's my truck!" T-Dog yelled, "HELL NAW!"
"Rick," Herhsel spoke up, urgency in his voice, "Daryl."
"Right. Glenn, get back to the camp as quick as you can. Make sure everyone's okay, and bring a car. GO!"
"I'll go with him," Hershel volunteered, "If someone's hurt, they're going to need me down there."
As Glenn and Hershel quickly took off towards camp, Rick practically ripped the Acura's driver door open, sitting inside and closing his eyes.
Please, work. Please, please work.
He tried turning the key. Wahwahwahwahwahwahwahwah. The engine wouldn't turn over. He tried again, tapping the gas this time. WahwahwahwahwahwahwahwahVROO OM!
"Hop in!" Rick demanded as T-Dog quickly slid into the passenger seat. Rick put the car in drive and practically floored it, peeling onto the road and after T-Dog's truck in the beat up Acura.
/
"I thought I told you to leave me alone, kid."
Daryl's eyes opened to the sight of trees flying by. What the hell!? His eyes darted to the cab. He could see a couple of guys driving – definitely not people he knew. He was contemplating what to do, especially considering he was in a truck flying down the road at 70 miles per hour, when he heard a voice shouting in his ear.
"You fuckin' dare move and I'll blow your brains out right here and now."
He could feel a gun at his head.
"Aw, hell."
A/N: Thanks for the warm reception so far guys! To the reader who commented about Fort Benning, they say in the Season 3 premier that the group basically goes in a giant circle. The group's half way between Atlanta and Fort Benning now and their *plan* is to try to go to Fort Benning but as we know, their plans rarely go right. :P I'm from Fort Benning myself so I know most of the roads they'd be taking etc.