Author's Note: I've had a couple of reviews telling me how weird it is that Carol just up and left home without any destination or sense of direction in mind. I figured I'd probably get that kind of response by at least a reader or two. That's kind of why I titled the story Blind Faith. She's just kind of taking a giant leap in leaving without knowing what to expect and traveling with a stranger. I don't think I'd be thinking very clearly if I found out the dead were getting up and coming back to life and eating people. I'd just want to get the hell away from people and drive. Anyhoo, here's Chapter 2.

Chapter 2

"Stay in the truck." They were the first words Daryl had uttered since Carol and Sophia had joined him in the truck. He pulled up to a seemingly abandoned gas station and parked at a pump. He reached under the bench seat and pulled out a shot gun.

"You're not gonna use that?" Carol's voice shook as she watched him.

"You wanna get out of here? You wanna save your girl?" He watched as she nodded, wordlessly. "I ain't lookin' to die like them folks at the morgue. I ain't lookin' to get over run when them sumbitches start walkin' the streets neither. I'll do what I gotta do, a'right?" Carol noticed the way his hand shook as it he gripped the gun, and she saw a flash of fear in his eyes. But, she said nothing as he slammed the door of the pickup and headed up to check the door. It was unlocked, and Daryl headed in.

Daryl peered at the man who sat on a stool behind the counter, his hand clamped over his arm.

"Mister, whatever it is you're lookin' for…"

"Need gas." The man looked out the window, out toward the truck.

"That your wife and girl?" Daryl said nothing.

"We're just tryin' to get the hell outta here. What happened to you?" Daryl made sure to stay back a ways. The man behind the counter smirked.

"Don't worry. Ain't catchin' unless you get bit. My mama got sick last night, coughed all over me, and I didn't get sick. Wasn't 'til I got bit." Daryl looked down at the bleeding wound on the man's arm. "Brother took sick. Died this mornin'. With all the commotion, couldn't get through to the coroner. Kept him in the store room." He nodded toward the body laying on the floor, head half gone from a gunshot. "Hour ago, he starts movin' around in there. I…thought maybe I was wrong and he weren't dead." He shook his head. "He came at me." He released the pressure a little, and blood spurted freely down his arm. Daryl winced at the sight. "Gotta shoot 'em in the head. They come back? They come after ya? Shoot 'em in the fuckin' head. Get 'em in the brain, and they'll go down." He groaned and turned toward the register that controlled the pumps.

"You need…you're gonna turn."

"I know that. Got me somethin' to fix that." He pulled a pistol out from under the till. "Just need a minute. When the fever gets bad…I'll do it. I just…I ain't ready yet." He nodded toward the truck. "You take what ya need. Get your family the hell outta this place." He pressed a few button on the screen. "Get goin' 'fore I change my mind." Daryl turned toward the door, and as he was stepping out, the man spoke again. "Remember. You gotta get 'em in the head. Not the heart. Not the gut. The head. That's the only thing'll kill 'em." Daryl nodded his thanks to the man and headed out to the truck.

Carol climbed out of the truck just as Daryl approached.

"Get back in the truck," he grumbled, looking over his shoulder as he put the shot gun in next to his bike.

"What happened in there?" Carol asked quietly, watching as Daryl removed the nozzle and began to fuel up. She looked over to see a pale, gaunt man watching from the window.

"He's been bit," Daryl murmured.

"We should…we should do something."

"Ain't nothin' we can do for him. He's already dead." Carol trembled as she leaned against the truck.

"There must be something…"

"You been listenin' to the news? Ain't nothin'. They get bit, they come back, they bite us, we die. I ain't gonna let that happen, lady." Daryl nodded toward the truck. "Get back in the truck with your girl. I expect she probably needs her mama right now, and you look like you're 'bout to fall over." Carol swallowed hard and nodded. She turned to get back in the truck, and he watched her, their eyes meeting briefly before she looked away and pulled herself back in, slamming the door behind her.

Daryl finished gassing up the truck, and then filled up a couple of empty gas cans in the back of the truck, and then they were off, heading to nowhere in particular just hoping to find some place safe to sleep for the night. Whatever was happening in the world, it didn't look to have an end in sight.

"Hey. We're stoppin'." Daryl nudged Carol's shoulder, and she jolted awake, gasping and looking around.

"What happened?"

"We're stoppin'. Stayin' here for the night." Carol looked around to see what appeared to be an abandoned motel. "You got any weapons?"

"No," Carol murmured. Daryl rifled through the glove box and came back with a pistol. "I don't know how to…"

"You pull this back and you shoot, a'right? You sleep with it under your pillow. You chain that door. I'll knock at first light." Carol nodded nervously.

"Okay." Sophia was still sleeping, and Carol gently roused her from her sleep. "Come on, sweetheart."

"Mama, where are we?"

"We're stopping for the night. We'll have a bed and a shower at least." Sophia nodded sleepily and got out of the truck. The three of them grabbed what they'd need for the night, and then Daryl pulled the truck around to hide behind some bushes. Carol eyed him. "In case looters come lookin'. S'dark enough they probably won't see it. No lights. Just flashlights unless you're in the shower." Carol nodded gain, feeling shaky and exhausted and scared.

Daryl broke a window on the office door and came out with two room keys, the old fashioned kind that fit into a regular old lock. He gave Carol room 4 and he took 5. As they walked to the doors, Carol reached out, putting her hand on his shoulder, and he tensed, turning to face her.

"Mr. Dixon, I just wanted to thank you for your help tonight. If it wasn't for you…"

"It's Daryl."

"What?"

"Mr. Dixon's my old man, and he's dead, so…"

"Daryl," Carol said with a nod. "Thank you. For everything." She cleared her throat. "I'm Carol." He nodded toward her and unlocked his room door.

"'Night," he muttered, stepping in and closing the door quickly behind him. Carol and Sophia looked at one another wearily. Carol wrapped an arm around her little girl's shoulder and opened up the motel room door. It was going to be a long night, but there was always the hope that by morning, this awful nightmare would be over.

A soft knock came to her door before sunrise. Carol yawned and checked the time on the bedside table. 4:25. They still had power, and given how still and silent the world around them had been in the night, she wondered for how much longer that power would still be there.

She moved to the door and looked out the peephole, seeing Daryl standing there. He'd pulled the truck around, and he looked all ready to go.

"I'm up," she called hoarsely to him.

"Five minutes," he called. "We need to get a move on."

"Okay." Daryl turned from the door, and Carol found a flashlight and hurried over to rouse Sophia. Within a couple minutes, they were both dressed and hurrying out the door, loading their things into the back of the truck. Sophia crawled into the cab sleepily, while Daryl and Carol spoke outside.

"I figure we keep away from the big cities. That's where the congestion's gonna be. Heard some choppers fly overhead last night." He looked around. "Dunno what's going on, but I figure it's better to stay away 'til this is all over."

"If it's ever over," Carol pointed out. Daryl chewed his lip nervously. He rifled through a pack in his truck and pulled out a box of donuts.

"Breakfast," he muttered. Carol nodded and took the box thankfully. A low growl from the side of the building startled them both, and Daryl grabbed something out of the back of the truck. A crossbow. Carol followed his gaze toward the bushes where someone was shuffling out from behind the motel.

"Oh God," she murmured. "Is that…"

"Get in the truck," he murmured. Carol found herself frozen in space, watching as this figure staggered toward them. Her hand shook as she turned on her flashlight and the light flooded over the figure, pale and bloody, eyes like nothing she'd ever seen before. A raspy snarl came from its throat, and it moved toward them, once a man named Kevin who worked in a garage, according to his coveralls, now a walking corpse.

Carol grabbed for the door handle just as Daryl let a bolt fly from the crossbow. She gasped as the arrow hit the body dead center in the eye. It fell to the ground, still, silent, dead as it should have been before.

"Jesus," Daryl muttered, moving toward it.

"Daryl, don't!"

"S'alright," he murmured. He pulled the arrow out of the eye socket, bringing blood and other disgusting things along with it. He wiped the sticky substance on the figure's coveralls and loaded the bolt back in the crossbow. Looking around, he saw no signs of more of these walking corpses, so he shoved his crossbow in the back of the pickup and climbed in. Carol took one last look at the body on the ground before climbing in the passenger's side.

"What was that?" she breathed, as Sophia looked from her to Daryl with concern.

"Gotta get 'em in the head," he grimaced. "Let's get out of here."

"What about a hospital?" Sophia suggested sometime around noon.

"Hospitals are filled with dyin' people. Dyin' people means future…whatever the hell we call 'em." They'd managed to catch a brief radio report about somebody passing away of natural causes, only to come back to life and start attacking. Whatever the hell was going on, there was a good possibility that it could happen to anyone.

"Walkers," Carol murmured, staring out the window of the pickup truck.

"What's that?" Daryl asked, glancing at Carol from across the cab. Carol shrugged, her eyes unemotional, tired, drained of life. She looked defeated.

"They die. They get up. They kill. They walk. Walkers." She looked at him briefly before turning to stare back out the window. Sophia rested her head on her mother's shoulder.

"What about a school? Or a…"

"School's the first place folks would go. Big. Lots of space to spread out. Probably setting up emergency shelters there anyway. Sorry, kid, but we're probably safer to stay away from places like that."

"Maybe a gated community?" Carol offered.

"We could try," he said quietly, "but if there's one thing I know 'bout gated communities, they want to keep the bad shit out, so when the shit really hits the fan, I'm sure they ain't gonna welcome newcomers with open arms."

"You're probably right," Carol murmured. "But we can't just…drive until the gas runs out. We have to survive." She eyed Daryl, who was staring intently at the road. "We have to find a place to stay. A place we can rest and…and hide. I don't think this thing's just going to blow over." She leaned back in the seat and ran her fingers through her short hair.

"We'll find a place," Daryl murmured. "Maybe in the mountains. Somewhere there ain't a lot of people. This thing comes down on everybody, we stand a better chance being somewhere remote. We don't need these…walkers—whatever the hell they are—comin' up on us in the night. We gotta get to high ground."

"So for now?" Carol asked, tears in her eyes.

"For now we drive and hope like hell we survive."