Chapter 11

Carol heard the distant sounds of gunshots beckoning her back to awareness. She felt a dull, throbbing pain in the back of her head, and the smoke filled her lungs as she took a deep breath, briefly wondering if she had gone to Hell as punishment for not being there for her daughter.

Another gunshot was closer, louder. She groaned, feeling her pulse in her ears and the taste of bile in the back of her throat. She coughed, and suddenly she felt hands on her arms, and then arms were wrapping around her waist and dragging her. She wanted to cry out. She wanted to fight, but she couldn't. She had nothing left in her.

"Come on. Come on. Wake up!" the gruff voice hollered. She felt herself being lifted, and she rested her head against a shoulder, but her eyelids were so heavy, she couldn't drag them open. She heard the sound of a door opening, and she suddenly remembered everything. Sophia. Daryl. Dead.

"No," she murmured, her head lolling back and forth against the shoulder. "Stop. Stop." Suddenly she felt herself being hoisted onto the seat of a car, and her eyelids fluttered open. It was dark. And the door was slamming. And gunshots were ringing out again. "Stop…" She fought to keep her eyes open, and everything was out of focus. She tried to pull herself up, but she felt weighed down like she was in a nightmare and couldn't get away.

Suddenly, the other door was opening, and the seat shifted as somebody slid in. The vehicle roared to life, and Carol thought for a moment about how it sounded vaguely like Daryl's truck. She sat up, reaching for the dashboard, reaching for anything that could help her steady herself.

"Had to dump the bike," he muttered. "Ain't no use to us now." That sounded like Daryl. She gripped the handle of the door.

"Let me out," she cried, trying to focus on who was behind the wheel. "I need to go back."

"Hey. Hey. Listen to me. You're ok. We're ok," he murmured. She blinked a few times until his face came into focus.

"I'm dead," she whispered. He reached out and cupped her chin his hand.

"Listen to me. You ain't dead. You're ok." She felt the words like a knife in the heart, and she choked out a sob. She looked around the cab of the truck as the empty space between them seemed to stretch for miles. She looked into the back of the truck that was overloaded with nothing but supplies.

"I'm not ok," she croaked out, choking back the overwhelming urge to vomit. "She's dead. I'm not ok."

"We'll go back," he promised. "You rest now. Just rest." As if under his spell, she did as he said, and before she knew it, she was asleep again, this time dreaming of Sophia's laughter and of her own screams muted by a roaring, searing fire.

When she woke next, her vision was better, and her head didn't hurt as much. The sun was just peaking in the horizon, and Carol realized she was covered up under a blanket and laying across the seat of the truck. She moaned softly and sat up, looking around for any sign of Daryl, only to find none. On the dash was a piece of paper. She grabbed for it and squinted, struggling to read it in the dim morning light.

Went to look for Soph. Gun's in the glove box. Don't leave.

She looked around, seeing the morning fog mixing with white smoke rolling off of the smoldering ruins of the cabin. The only thing left standing was the brick fireplace, and the sight of it made Carol sick. She suddenly couldn't breathe. She made a grab for the handle of the truck, realizing he'd locked her in to keep her safe. She popped the lock and felt the cool morning air hit her face. She closed her eyes, taking in a few deep, shaky breaths before climbing down out of the truck and pulling the pistol out of the glove compartment.

She gently closed the door and began to walk toward the edge of the woods. She felt her stomach turn at the sight of walkers shot straight through the head littering the ground like a macabre garden. She covered her mouth and nose with her hand to try and stifle the stench, and as she neared the tree line, she began to look for any sign that her daughter had escaped the fire. Her heart swelled a little at the thought that if Daryl was out looking for Sophia, that must mean he thought she was alive. But her head told her that her heart was betraying her, and Daryl was only going to try and ease her pain, to show her he hadn't completely given up. It was sweet of him, but she knew in her heart that if Sophia was in that locked up house when that fire broke out, there was a very good chance that she was dead. As her mother, Carol knew she was going to have to live with knowing that for the rest of her life.

She moved away from the trees and made a wide circle around the smoldering remains of what had started to become a happy home. She felt the smoke and tears sting her eyes, and she fought the urge to look away every time she saw a pile of ashes she thought could be her daughter's body. This was her baby. This was the child she brought into this world and vowed to protect with everything she had. And she was gone.

"Sophia," Carol whimpered, her hands shaking. She bent over, hands on her knees, and she tried to fight back the urge to vomit, but she threw up anyway, and she knelt down on the ground, hands on the damp grass, and she threaded her fingers together in a desperate prayer. She begged for Daryl to appear through those trees with Sophia safely in tow, but the longer she waited, the more her heart sank; the more her head told her she'd never hear her little girl laugh again.

"Sophia!" she shouted, her throat sore and raw from crying. "Sophia!" She heard her words echo through the trees and bounce back. Pulling herself to her feet, she made another circle around the cabin, calling for her daughter, hoping she'd gotten out somehow, hoping she was just hiding. In her mind, she knew Sophia knew better than to hide, but her heart wasn't quite ready to give up the hope that she had anyway.

After only a couple of minutes, a few walkers made their way out of the trees, and she grabbed her knife out of her belt, holding it tightly in her hand.

"You took her from me," she cried out to nothing, her eyes squeezed shut tightly as the hot tears built up behind her lids. "She was just a child." A female walker stepped out from behind Daryl's truck, and Carol turned swiftly to stick the knife through its eye. She screamed out as she did so, feeling a rush of anger as she fell with the walker, landing over it, repeatedly drawing the knife back up before plunging it into the skull with a satisfying crack.

She pulled herself up, wiping off the blade of her knife before lunging at the next walker to get too close. She stuck the blade through its neck, listening to it pierce the soft flesh under the tongue and break right through to the brain. She screamed out for Sophia again, her eyes darting wildly back and forth over the tree line. Another walker came at her, and she handled the pistol, firing a single shot through its eye.

She fell to her knees again, screaming as she covered her face with her hands.

"Sophia!"

"The hell you doin'?" Daryl asked, startling her as he came running up. "You tryin' to get yourself killed? Get up!" He pulled her to her feet. Carol blinked a few times, her head tilting down in realization that he was alone.

"She's dead."

"Didn't see her in the house," he murmured.

"I thought you were dead, too."

"I got out through a back window just before the ceiling went," he explained. "Didn't see her. Called out for her." His hands were on her shoulders now, and he could see the life disappearing from her eyes. "She coulda got out. She coulda."

"And if she did?" Carol asked, waving her arm out toward the corpses on the lawn. "If she did, she's theirs now."

"C'mon," he urged. "Let's get back in the truck."

"And go where?" she asked, her face pale and gaunt, her eyes without a spark of life in them. "We'll just run 'til we die, Daryl. There's no point." She wiped at her cheeks before folding her arms protectively across her chest. Daryl watched the way she slowly gave up right in front of him, and he placed his hands on her shoulders again, squeezing them gently.

"Sophia wouldn't want…"

"Don't," she said, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head. "She was my daughter. Don't you dare tell me what she'd want." She turned and went back to the truck, pulling herself inside and slamming the door. Daryl collected his thoughts for a moment, his gaze moving from tree to tree, hoping desperately for a glimpse of a clue to tell him what exactly had happened to Sophia. He'd found no leads in the woods. There were so many walker tracks that any living human tracks would have been masked. It was hopeless, and Carol seemed to know that, but he wanted more than anything to be able to give her answers. She needed to know. She deserved to know.

He turned back to look at the house, wondering if he shouldn't just sift through the ashes and look for her, but when he looked at Carol's still frame in the car, shoulders hunched, face tucked half-way under the blanket as she shivered, he knew he needed to get her away.

Before they left, he left a few bottles of water and some food in an old fishing tackle box out by the old well in the back. Inside, he left a note.

Soph, if you're reading this, stay safe. Stay close. We'll come back.

The gravel popped under the tires as they pulled into the driveway of a house in town. Daryl eyed Carol for a moment before he got out of the truck and walked up the steps to the porch and banged on the door, listening for any signs of walkers inside. When he heard nothing, he checked the door, and it was unlocked.

Carol watched as he walked inside, gun drawn, and she kept her eyes trained on the dark doorway until Daryl stepped out, gun in his belt.

"It' safe," he assured her. "C'mon. Let's go in, have somethin' to eat." Carol said nothing and grabbed one of the bags she'd taken on their run that day. She fished out a change of clothes and brushed past Daryl and into the house. Daryl followed after her, locking the door behind them.

She disappeared into the back of the house, and Daryl noticed all of the candles set up around the house. Clearly, someone had stayed in the house after the power had gone out, but wherever they were, they hadn't been there in a long time. A fine layer of dust coated everything in the place, but at least that meant nobody would be coming back to surprise them in the middle of the night.

Daryl checked through the cabinets and found some spaghetti o's, which he promptly slid to the back of the cabinet so not to upset Carol if she were to see them. He fished out a can of corned beef hash and opened it, splitting it onto two plates, his stomach rumbling as soon as the first bite passed his lips.

When Carol walked into the kitchen, she was wearing a pair of comfortable khaki pants and a light blue tank-top with a blue button pulled over her arms loosely for warmth.

"Somethin' to eat," Daryl murmured, motioning toward the plate on the table.

"Not hungry," she muttered, running her fingers through her short curls.

"You gotta eat."

"I don't gotta do anything." For the first time all day, her eyes flashed with that fire again, though she was angry this time. "I just want to sleep."

"Fine, but you're gonna eat first," he replied, pulling a chair out for her. He sat down in the chair across from hers, and he watched as she slowly sat down and picked up a spoon. She looked at him before taking a bite. Then another. Her hunger caught up to her, and they ate in silence, both stealing glances at one another from time to time, uncertain of what to say to fill the wordless void. Finally, the silence was too deafening, and Daryl cleared his throat. "We'll look for her first thing tomorrow."

"Don't," Carol said quietly.

"We can comb the woods and…"

"Stop it!" she shouted, slamming her spoon down on the table. She watched him swallow the lump in his throat, and she immediately felt guilty. "I'm sorry. I just…I don't want false hope, Daryl. I can't…" She shook her head, and a few tears spilled out. "I'm never going to see her again." She sighed heavily. "I can't waste time pretending." She closed her eyes a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

"I promised you I'd keep your girl safe," Daryl argued. "I aim to keep my promises if I can, and I'm gonna look for her first thing tomorrow." Carol just nodded, her eyes still closed.

"Okay." She sniffled and took a deep breath. "I need to sleep. I just…I need to lay down." Daryl nodded.

"Alright. Let me know if ya need anything."

"Don't leave," she said softly, looking back over at him. "I don't want to lose you, too." Daryl didn't know what to say to that. He just gave her a little nod and watched her get up and leave the room. All he wanted to do was get up and go to her and hold her and let her know that he'd take care of her. He'd do anything for her. But he didn't know how to help her through this. All he could do was hope like hell that Sophia got out and that she was hiding somewhere safe. He hoped he'd taught her enough to save her life.