Lol, bless y'all! Thank you for all the reviews so far and concern for Carol. The action and angst muses are really speaking today so I am updating again. (Actually, I think Arrow in a Broken Branch tired out the smut muse so she shut up and let someone else talk for once) y'all know the drill, read and review, let me know what you like and what you don't. Please and thank you!
One twitch of his shoulders. That was exactly what had stood between him and killing her. And if he had, he had no doubt that his next move would have been to pull the big buck knife from the sheath at his waist and cut his own throat where he stood.
Instead, there had been a visceral NO! that had shocked his body. Not a real thought, just a gut wrenching internal scream that caused him to jerk his stance to the left just enough, even as his finger pulled the trigger, to send the arrow gliding silently parallel to the south side of the fence line.
So now Daryl knelt behind the tree, dry heaving after losing the remains of his trail mix all over the pine needles at his feet. He wiped his mouth and then drove the heels of his hands into his closed eyelids, trying to drive the image of her face in the optics of the crossbow out of his head.
Almost...I almost...FUCK...Carol, so close...SHUT UP! SHUT UP AND QUIT ACTING LIKE A DAMN PUSSY! She WILL be dead if you don't quit ACTING LIKE A LITTLE BITCH AND DO SOMETHING!
Daryl stood back up and squinted back at the prison even as his stomach tried to continue it's revolt. Rick had now come into view, standing with Carol between the two strangers. No wonder no one from the prison, not even Glenn who was supposed to be on watch right now, was taking a shot. They were being held hostage. Rick he could understand, he would have been the first to rush out to protect their home. But why Carol? Why hadn't she stayed inside until he came in, like he had asked her to as he left this morning? Something about this was off, but he couldn't put his finger on it exactly.
It didn't matter anyway, he had to take these people out, one way or another. The problem was, he couldn't take the shot with Rick and Carol that close. He had to figure out a way to tell them to get out of the way without alerting the others.
TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWD
"And this is Carol, she's the head of our kitchens."
Carol shook the hand of the pink shirt clad woman, who she now knew was named Amber, as Rick finished the introductions.
"Daryl, my second in command, is her...um..."
Carol raised an eyebrow in Rick's direction as he fumbled. My what?
"uh, husband? He's out on a hunt right now but should be back around sunset."
Carol shot Rick an amused look and he just shrugged his shoulders as if to ask Well, what do you want me to say?
They quickly went to work helping the young family unload their things and place them on the prison side of the vehicles. The majority of the children in the truck had fallen asleep in the cool breeze that was blowing in the windows so they had elected to leave them there for the moment, with the oldest, a girl around ten with hair the same color as her fathers to watch over them. Carol quickly pushed away the realization that the girl reminded her of Sophia. Instead, she focused on making conversation with the mother, which wasn't difficult at all. She was very talkative, but not in a bad way. She just seemed to be glad to have another woman to talk to after months on the road with just her husband and children for conversation. She also made it clear that she understood their need for information as a security precaution.
So Carol had verbally poked and prodded as they unloaded their supplies and Amber had answered excitedly, easily offering more than what was asked
Her husbands name was Leon, he had been a church pastor right outside the city of Rome which was an hour north of the prison. Amber had been a stay at home mom at the time of the outbreak, but had been a nurse, with ten years of emergency and surgical experience before that. They had four biological children and had finalized the adoption of a sibling group of three foster children a month before the dead began to rise. Carol raised an eyebrow curiously. That certainly explained why the youngest two childrens skin color, a beautiful deep chocolate brown that reminded her of Michonne, was so obviously different from their parents. But the numbers didn't add up. There were only six children in the truck and none in the supply laden van.
Without looking up from the case of cans in her hands Amber answered the unspoken question quietly. "There was another. Our youngest, Molly, had a twin sister Megan. They were one when it all started. Their biological mother had some problems and Megan was born with birth defects. She was dependent on medications that we couldn't get once everything shut down." She wiped her eyes once with the back of her hand before finishing. "She's buried back at our house."
Carol felt like a fool. She of all people should have realized the truth. In this world, you just had to assume a person's family were dead if they weren't by their side.
Carol put her hand gently on the younger brunnette's arm. "I'm sorry. I know how you feel. Truly, I do."
Amber had nodded back, seeming understanding her own unspoken admission. They had gotten back to work, resuming with lighter topics of conversation. Halfway through the van they had hit the food supplies, including five gallon buckets of beans, rice, and other dried foods. Carol could have jumped for joy. The addition of staples like these could help the kitchen for months. There was a disconcerting fact though. She was familiar with the exact brand and packaging. It was the same type of stuff Ed used to order. Apparently this family was also fairly hardcore survivalists.
Carol couldn't help the sick feeling that overwhelmed her stomach but after looking at the animated (and unbruised) woman, her children, and her what appeared to be a gentle giant husband, she decided she saw no signs of what she had endured in silence so many years. She couldn't judge them based on where they shopped pre-walkers. Besides, the prison didn't lend itself to secrets and Rick (or Daryl especially) wouldn't tolerate abuse even if it was just a suspicion.
Carol was just heading around the front of the truck, past Leon, when she got an odd feeling, like she was being watched or was in danger. She scanned the tree line immediately but saw nothing. As soon as it came, the feeling was gone. Back to the job at hand she headed, shaking her head. All this stress was making her as jumpy as Daryl.
A few minutes later she heard an odd noise as she stood at the side of the truck between Rick and Amber. She cocked her head to one side. Huh, that's odd she thought, an owl hooting in the daytime. Hadn't her and Daryl talked about that one night recently? What was it he had told her his grandmother's superstition had been? Once more the owl sounded and then her heart froze as she remembered.
An owl hooting in the daytime means...
She grabbed a wrist of Amber's and Rick's each and threw herself down on the ground, screaming in Leon's direction as he opened up the stock trailer to let the animals out.
"GET DOWN!"
She prayed she was wrong as she hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of her lungs, that it was just an owl. But her fears were proven when the thwack of an arrow hitting flesh filled the air just before she felt warm blood spray over her face.
Instant death was raining itself down on her new friends.