Chapter 17

After three hours of driving around and having to make a stop to get more gas, Daryl and Carol managed to find the exact spot that the caravan of cars had left during the storm yesterday. They'd managed to find an off-road trail that had crossed through the woods and led them to that exact spot. Carol figured they'd probably made camp there in the middle of the woods for a few nights and had gotten out when the rain had started to flood the clearing.

Daryl turned in the direction that he'd seen the cars going, and he saw Carol perk up for the first time that morning. She was alert, her eyes focused on where they were going.

"We find 'em, and we wait. We watch 'em, see if they got Sophia. We find Sophia, we go in. Just gotta know how far you're willin' to go."

"I'll do anything to get her back, Daryl," she said evenly, her fingers tapping against the barrel of the shotgun that lay across her lap. And he believed her.

Carol sighed heavily and leaned back in the seat, keeping an eye on the road. Daryl stepped on the gas and sped down the road, hoping to find some clue as to where the group had headed, hoping that it was leading them closer to finding the truth about Sophia and not further away from it.

After an hour of driving, Carol was getting anxious. They'd stopped in literally every little town they could think that a group might stop for supplies, and they'd found nothing.

"More'n likely, they'd stick to this road."

"I thought you said they'd stick close to the river." Daryl chewed his lip and glanced at her.

"Guess they musta figured they'd be better off movin' on." Carol sighed with frustration and slammed her head back against the head rest. "Hey. C'mon, we're gonna find 'em."

"We got so close, Daryl. We were so close, and then they were gone. We don't even know if Sophia's with them."

"Ain't you the one that wanted to go after 'em? The fuck you want me to do?" he asked, his voice rough but not entirely angry. He was just exhausted and exasperated. "Ya keep goin' back and forth, sayin' we gotta find Sophia, sayin' we gotta find these folks, but then ya say she might not be with 'em, she might be dead."

"She might be," Carol murmured, looking down at the chipped, clear glossy polish on her nails, faded from time. Daryl slammed on the brakes, sending them both lurching forward in the truck. He ran his fingers through his shaggy hair, and Carol stared at him.

"What are we doing?" she asked gently.

"What are we doin'?" he asked. "Are we lookin' for your girl? This a rescue mission or some way to distract you from thinkin' 'bout what really happened?" He saw her flinch.

"You think she's dead."

"No. But I can't read you. You act like we're gonna find her, and then ya act like we ain't never gonna see her again. Which is it?"

"Stop," Carol murmured.

"Just talk to me, damn it!" He slammed his hand on the wheel for emphasis, and she immediately unfastened her belt and jumped out of the truck. Daryl sighed heavily and got out, following her over to the side of the road. "I'm sorry."

"You have no idea what it's like to dream every night that your child—your baby—could be lost out there or with strangers who…who could hurt her. Or to think that she might be cold or hurt or…or dead." The last word caught in her throat, and she doubled over, resting her hands on her knees, gasping for breath as she fought the urge to vomit. Daryl gently put his hand on her back, and he knelt down on the ground as she went to her knees.

"Sorry," he murmured. "Didn't mean to yell. Just…look, I'll take ya anywhere ya wanna go. I just gotta know where you're at. What you're thinkin'."

"I just…I need to find her, Daryl. I just keep wondering if…if maybe I'm wrong. Maybe she's still out there in those woods." She gestured toward the direction they'd driven from. Maybe she's out there. Or maybe…maybe we've been wrong this whole time, and…"

"Hey," Daryl urged, "look, we know she was out there, a'right? We know that Michonne woman found her bracelet. She was out there. And we didn't find no fresh blood. That's a good sign. We just gotta…we gotta keep lookin'. We don't find this group by tomorrow, we'll turn 'round and go back." Carol nodded and sniffled, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, Daryl. You must think I'm crazy."

"You ain't crazy. You're just scared, and ya got every right to be." He stood and helped Carol back to her feet, and she sighed and leaned against him when he pulled his arms around her, stroking her hair softly as she relaxed against him. After a few minutes, he pulled back and chucked her chin, getting a little smile out of her. "You ready?"

"Yeah. Let's go," she said, sniffling and giving a firm nod.

As nighttime fell, Daryl pulled the truck up against the side of an old barn. He and Carol were the first out to check the place for walkers. Thankfully, whoever had abandoned the place, had locked the place up good. It was merely a used for storing farm equipment, so there wasn't much room to move around.

After securing the doors, Daryl made his way over to the loft ladder. He climbed up first to make sure there weren't any nasty surprises waiting for them. When he saw it was clear, he motioned for Carol to join him, which she did promptly.

"You cold?" he asked, bunching up some hay to use as pillows.

"A little," she murmured tiredly. Daryl nodded.

"Be right back."

"You don't have to go all the way back down there."

"Be right back," he repeated, climbing back down to get their blankets out of the truck. When he returned, Carol was half-asleep, but she roused when Daryl lay down next to her, covering her with one blanket and himself with another. She instinctively rolled to drape her arm across his chest, gently stroking him there. He sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden contact and then relaxed, gently rubbing his hand down her side and her hip.

He was a little ashamed to say he was getting hard having her there against him, her hand innocently stroking his chest. He knew the last thing on her mind was sex, and the only reason that first night happened was because she was grieving and needed something to take her away from all that pain. He didn't know what the future held for them once they found their answers, but he felt something heavy and hollow settle in his chest, a fear that he would lose her somehow.

"Daryl?" she asked gently, as his arms tightened around her. "Are you ok?"

"Fine. You get some sleep," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. She snuggled into him and closed her eyes, letting the sound of his heartbeat sooth her to sleep.

Daryl jolted awake at the sound of his truck door opening. He sat up quickly, and Carol stirred next to him.

"What's wrong?" she asked with a yawn, squinting into the morning light.

"Somebody's out there," he murmured. "C'mon." He grabbed his crossbow, and she found her knife under a clump of hay, and they crawled silently over to the loft window to peer out and over toward where the truck was parked. A young Asian man was checking the dash for keys, as an older man with a white beard and a hat looted through the back for supplies.

"Daryl," Carol breathed softly, "you think they're part of that group?""Dunno," he whispered gruffly, "but they ain't takin' our shit." He nodded, motioning for Carol to follow him, and they crept out of the loft and down the ladder. Creeping with their backs to the barn walls, they slid out toward a small door in the back. Carol kept her fingers curled tightly around her knife, and she took a couple of deep breaths, biting her lip as she followed Daryl out the door and into the cool, morning mist.

They stayed pressed against the sides of the barn, inching their way around until they saw the younger man disappear under the dash, obviously trying to hotwire the pickup. The old man was just stuffing a few bottles of water into a pack when he felt the point of Daryl's bolt against his neck. He tensed, and Daryl banged his hand on the hood of the car.

"Slide on outta there. Nice and easy." The young Asian man's head popped up behind the wheel again, his eyes widening with surprise as he heard the strange, gruff voice. "Hands up, nice and easy." He slid out slowly, his hands up, and he stepped away from the truck.

"We don't want any trouble. We were just looking for supplies."

"These ain't yours to take," Daryl pointed out. "They're ours." He gestured toward Carol, and she came around, knife poised.

"Look, like I said dude, we don't want any trouble. We'll just get in our car and go." He motioned toward a silver Buick parked close by. "Clearly you don't have anything we need.."

"Yeah," Daryl said, narrowing his eyes a bit. "But I got a feelin' the same thing can't be said 'bout you. You got a group?" The young man nodded slowly.

"They by the river yesterday?" The man's gaze turned toward the older man's. "Don't look at him. Look at me." The younger man just gave a little nod. With that affirmation, Carol stepped forward.

"We're looking for..."

"My bike. Ditched it in a hurry and went back for it. Wasn't there. Heard somethin' sounded an awful lot like it last night. Thought it might be mine." A look of realization hit the younger man, and his gaze faltered again, looking toward the older man's. "You seen it? Shoulda had half a pack of cigarettes in the side bag."

"Yeah. We've seen it. We've got it," the older man said slowly. "You're gonna have to come with us, and you're gonna be blindfolded."

"No fuckin' way," Daryl protested.

"That's the only way," the older man explained, getting a jab from the point of the arrow. "Or you can kill us now. What's it gonna be?" Carol gently put her hand on Daryl's shoulder, and he grunted in frustration. "You're gonna put your weapons in the back of the truck, and you're going to let us drive you back to our camp. Not everybody's thrilled with strangers coming in, staking their claim on our supplies."

"Why should we trust you?" Carol asked quietly, her eyes fixing on the older man's as she turned to face him.

"You shouldn't," the older man said quietly. "We're strangers, and went this day's over, maybe it's best we stay that way."