AN: I wanted to apologize it took so long for me to churn this chapter out. Several factors have kept me from getting this posted sooner, but here it is! :) I hope to be much quicker with the next chapter. Again, I want to thank my reviewers, I appreciate all the great feedback you've had! :) Anyway, enjoy!
"What the hell happened back there?" Rick shouted as they hurtled down the road behind Dale. There really was no need to shout but adrenaline had him worked up.
"I don't know man!" Shane yelled back. Apparently he wasn't the only one on an adrenaline rush. "I heard screaming and looked back, and wouldn't you belive it, Merle had fucking come back!"
"What?" His question came out as more of an expletive than an inquiry.
"He was a damn walker, Rick! I didn't think he'd been bitten. He didn't act like it before Daryl put him down, but he turned man. Almost got Carol too. I guess the crash was my fault. I was just so shocked by it all, I... I just stopped watching the road." Shane lowered his head as if ashamed.
A heavy silence ensued for a few minutes before Rick spoke again. "Well is everyone ok? You said he almost got Carol?"
Shane looked up, "Yea, we're alright, a little banged up from the accident, but ok."
"Glenn saved us." Carol interjected gesturing toward Daryl with a nod. "Merle was going after me, but after the crash, he was going after Daryl. I tried to drag him away, but he's just too heavy for me, then suddenly Glenn was there. He took care of it."
"Good job Glenn," Rick sent the younger man the equivalent of a pat on the back in the form of a look.
"Huh? What?" Glenn looked up from where he'd been distractedly gazing at the cut on his hand. He turned to look up front as best he could from where he was sardined in with Shane and T-dog in the incredibly cramped cargo area. "Did you say something, Rick?"
"I was just thanking you for taking care of Merle."
"Oh yea. No problem." Glenn replied before turning back to continue his staring contest with his cut. He tuned out the others as they continued to discuss the accident and inform Rick of their injuries. He felt a bit off and couldn't put his finger on the cause. The wound on his palm was burning, which he supposed he'd expect that to some degree, but it just didn't seem right. Maybe he was just in some form of shock. After everything that'd gone down that day; what with Merle attacking camp and making Rick cut off his hand, Daryl getting shot, having to move out yet again, Merle turning, then the RV crashing. Then on top of all that he'd had to be the one to grant Merle his second death. Surely that was all this was. The chaos of the day was getting to him. It's not like he hadn't killed walkers before, but none of the ones he'd killed had been people he'd known when they were living. And while he didn't care for Merle Dixon he'd still known the man. He looked at his cut again; it was still bleeding a bit, and surprisingly was hurting more than his twisted ankle. He didn't want to look at it anymore; he didn't like this odd feeling especially not if it was due to the likes of Merle Dixon. So he simply decided he wouldn't allow himself to be in shock. He grabbed at the hem of his thinning undershirt and gave a swift tug, ripping off a sizable strip before wrapping it around his hand. He watched, enthralled as the ugly gash disappeared underneath the fabric. "Good riddance." He thought to himself.
It had been quiet in the Cherokee for a while now. They'd discussed the incident in the RV as much as they cared to for the time being before a blanket of tense quite settled among them; leaving them all to marinate in their own thoughts of what it could all mean. Thankfully, it wasn't much longer before they pulled into the parking lot of their destination.
The establishment they found themselves at had a fading sign in front proclaiming it as Billy Jay's Truck Stop-N-Eats. The gas station/diner was surprisingly intact. In fact, it looked to be virtually untouched by the decay that seemed to encroach on every corner of the new and terrible world they found themselves inhabitants of. The walls of the building were brown with green trim around the windows and on the awnings. Judging by its appearance from outside the biggest problem was the glass door and the five large windows in the diners half of the building. Detached from the facility were six gas pumps. It was a long shot, but if they were incredibly lucky they might just be able to get some fuel out of those.
Once they pulled into the lot the atmosphere in the car shifted. It remained tense, but now the cause for that was due to caution and fear leeching into everyone's veins. It was always with mixed feelings that they approached a new location, whether it'd been scoped out beforehand or not. One never knew what might happen. Things could change in an instant in this life, hidden dangers waiting behind every corner, just waiting to dig their icy claws into your flesh. Rick suppressed a shudder, not wanting to dwell on such thoughts.
Opening his door but remaining seated Rick waved Dale over. It was approaching dusk, and he was eager to get moving so he wasted no time mincing words once the older man reached them. "Ok. Shane, Glenn and I did a sweep of this place earlier. It was clear, no bodies or walkers. Almost as if it was closed the day things went south. There're blinds on all the windows so that'll keep walkers from seeing the light, and there're bars on the door, so we'll just need to cover it with something to hide the light. We can use the table tops in the diner to board the windows up, but we'll wait till tomorrow. It's getting late, and I don't want to risk the noise this close to nightfall. Now be careful, we'll need to make the rounds in this place again to make sure it's still clear."
With that, he reached down to the lever and popped the trunk, then got out quietly shutting his door. Shane and T-dog moved around to get Daryl off the ladies' laps while everyone else grabbed supplies and weapons and cautiously moved inside.
The sight greeting them once inside was that of a regular gas station, as if placed there from the world before. It looked... normal. Which, honestly, was almost unnerving at this point. They'd become so used to their environment being damaged and pillaged, rotted and torn apart that the fact that this place was intact, the items still miraculously on the shelves, nothing overturned or looted... it was just surreal. And a godsend, Rick reflected, he recalled that the kitchen in the diner was well stocked also, and while they couldn't use the refrigerated items there was still an adequate supply of food; certainly enough to get them by until they could focus on that issue more.
An open partition to their right led to the diner. It consisted of twelve booths and ten barstools, a portion of the kitchen could be seen behind the counter. Lori and Andrea began lowering the blinds while Rick and Glenn went to make sure the rest of their newly claimed fortress remained as safe as they'd left it.
Shane and T-dog laid Daryl down on one the tables before heading out to bring the rest of the supplies in from the car, leaving him in Carol's care so that she could finally tend to him properly. Well, as properly as she could. She was terribly nervous about stitching his neck up, even if she'd volunteered and put herself in this situation. A small part of her couldn't help but be relieved that she'd been interrupted and the procedure put off; which in turn, made her feel disgusted with herself for such a callous thought. She set about cleaning the bloody gash on his neck yet again, with bottled water and the clean part of the rag she'd been using to plug the wound with. The bleeding that'd begun anew because of the accident had slowed a bit during the remainder of the drive there, which gave her a glimmer of hope. She was still worried though. He'd been too still and silent since they'd first put him in the RV and his skin felt too cool to the touch. She knew he was still alive. She couldn't help it and would find herself constantly checking for signs of life, but it still unsettled her to see him in such a state.
"Dale?" she called softly looking up into his kindly old eyes, "Do you think you could sterilize this for me again?" She requested, producing a new needle from her kit.
"Of course," he replied taking the needle, "Is there anything else you think you'll need?"
"Some water and clean cloths," Dale nodded and turned to leave. "Oh, and some bandages if you can find any," Carol added as an afterthought. "But could you get the other things first, so I can get started, please?"
"Will do," Dale sent her an encouraging smile, trying to reassure her that she could do this.
As she waited on Dale, Sophia approached her. "Mom, is Daryl going to die?" the question was uttered with such innocence, even after all the girl had seen in her short life. It tore at Carol's heart.
Carol didn't rightly know what to say, "We're going to do everything we can to keep that from happening, Sweetie." she answered. She had no idea if Daryl'd pull through or not and there was no sense in telling Sophia otherwise.
The girl looked at her with something between sadness and understanding, her gaze then shifted to one of resolution. "I'll help you, Mom."
Carol smiled at her daughter; the girl was so fragile, yet possessed such a strength. She supposed she must, to have survived in this nightmare for so long. Upon realizing this, she could only conclude the same of herself. This realization empowered her, cementing her resolve and quelling her fears and uncertainties about her ability to pull this off. Sophia believed in her and Daryl, whether he knew it or not, was depending on her. She could do this. She would do this.
"Alright, it's still clear and the back exit's locked up tight." Rick announced to the others as he and Glenn returned to the dining area. The others were all gathered there now explaining to Dale what'd happened in the RV earlier. They'd seated themselves at a couple of the tables near where Carol was conducting her 'surgery'. The Cherokee had been cleaned out and the front door secured and covered with a tarp. There were a few candles lit about the room for light and Sophia held a flashlight, so Carol could see to stitch Daryl.
"I guess we can sleep in here tonight, maybe tomorrow we can start moving things in the gas station around and spread out a bit. Oh, and did I mention that this place has showers?" he grinned slyly at them all.
"Really?" T-dog asked, excited.
"Yea, this hallway branches off before you hit the kitchen. There are bathrooms and then a little further are some showers. The beauty of truck stops." He chuckled. "I don't know if they work, though. We'll have to see if we can get the generator in the basement working tomorrow."
"Wow," Andrea remarked rubbing her shoulder. Shane had popped it back into place for her earlier, but it still ached. "This place, might just work out pretty well."
"Well I hope so," Shane stated standing up. "Let's find something to eat, we've actually got a couple options in this place."
After eating a hearty meal of granola bars, jerky, and a random assortment of other snacks, they were now sitting around in the glow of the candles discussing things they could do to fortify and improve their new home. There was a lull in conversation, that's when the subject came up.
"I have to ask," Dale started, looking around the group, "but how is it that Merle came back? I didn't see a bite on him, and he certainly wasn't behaving as such." The others all murmured agreement, no one would have guessed the man, while insane as could be, was infected.
There was a pregnant silence as they contemplated the implications of this. Fear began to permeate their surroundings seeping into their very pores, until Rick finally shattered the quiet, voicing what everyone was thinking and no one wanted to say. "I don't think he was bitten. I don't think you have to get bit to turn, you just have to die. Getting bit just kills you faster."
They all just stared at each other in horror. If this was true, they were all doomed. It didn't matter what they did, each of them would turn into one of those walking abominations. It was only a matter of when. There would be no peace in death, no matter the form it took.
"Well," Shane's voice rang out dryly as he settled down on the pallet he'd made for himself, closing his eyes, "thanks for the bedtime story."