A/N: Yay chapter 4! Thanks to my awesome beta Calcifer179 :)
I'm loving putting references to other sources in this story. A lot so far has been based on 'Survival Instinct', but I have included random quotes and scenarios from other things too, most not zombie related. It's a lot of fun to write! See if you can pick up on any :D
Logan is really crazy and spontaneous and I have some awesome things planned for her. Anyway...R&R, everything is so appreciated xo
4.
They had driven in silence for most of the day, seeing no survivors, but plenty of "Zombitches", as Logan was calling them. They travelled through a couple of towns without stopping, all of which seemed to be in even worse condition then Daryl's hometown.
"Where is everyone? How has all of this happened in just a couple of days?" He had asked aloud, not really expecting his niece to answer, but she had turned towards him with a sneer on her pretty little face;
"Seriously man? Not even 'Dawn of the Dead'? Geez, you are clueless."
He had shut up after that, trying not to dwell on the fact that a teenager was better equipped for the end of the world than he, a grown man and experienced hunter. It was just too embarrassing.
At around noon Logan had put her headphones on and started using her iPod, and Daryl had shaken his head at the sheer normality of the action. Somehow, the girl was still unaffected by their situation, all she cared about was listening to music and kicking the occasional zombie arse. He had to admire her tenacity.
Driving quickly, they arrived in the outskirts of Fontana and Daryl considered their options; continue into the large town during dusk and try and find Merle and a place to stay for the night or stay somewhere nearby and take the town in the morning, using the daylight to their advantage. He decided on the latter and started scouring the road for a suitable place to hold out.
The neon sign of a motel caught his eye and he pulled the pickup into the parking lot, surveying the area carefully for any signs of movement, before hopping out of the truck. Logan left her headphones on and practically danced out of the old Ford, her head moving in time to whatever music she was listening to. Tapping her on the shoulder and raising his crossbow, Daryl strode toward the first motel room, the one they had parked in front of, and peered through a gap in the curtains into the room beyond. It looked safe, but he wasn't taking any chances. Just as he was about to kick the door in, Logan appeared by his right side, holding a ring of keys aloft. Daryl opened his mouth to question her, but before he could speak, she pointed down the line of rooms to the main office.
Daryl sighed heavily, was this girl ever going to learn not to wander off by herself? But he accepted the keys she offered and opened the motel room with the key marked '1' to correspond with the numbering on the plain wood door.
He poked his head inside and then, still brandishing his crossbow, combed every inch of the room and adjacent en suite for dangers. It was indeed safe, just two single beds with tacky floral bedspreads, a built-in wardrobe and basic bathroom facilities. Logan finally removed her bulky, white headphones from her ears, instead wrapping them around her neck and tested the shower. She grinned at Daryl when a steady stream of water burst forth from the showerhead.
"Sweet!" She cried, delighted at the prospect of being clean again. Daryl was a redneck through and through and couldn't give a shit about whether there was running water or not, but the teen girl seemed to love taking long, luxurious showers, a trait that went against her tomboyish nature.
"Stay here," he ordered, "I'm going to go make sure the other rooms are clear so we don't get any surprises in the night. Ya gonna be okay?"
Logan rolled her eyes and shut the bathroom door, turning the shower up full as she did so. Daryl sighed again and counted his arrows, checked the knife strapped to his leg and exited their room, locking the door behind him. He rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms and started walking up the line of rooms, checking each one cautiously. They were all empty of residents, undead or otherwise, but he did find several bottles of water, soda, muesli bars, jerky and a few random shirts and blankets, all of which he threw into the pack he was carrying on his left shoulder.
When Daryl returned, Logan was sitting cross-legged, Indian style on the carpet, wet hair plastered to her face and dressed in one of his t-shirts, which hung down past her knees like a dress.
"Did I say ya could wear that?" He grumbled, half-heartedly, too tired to really argue.
"No…but then again I didn't ask."
He tossed her a can of tuna and fork, grabbing one as well and propping himself up on some pillows on one of the beds. They ate in silence for a while, before Logan pushed her food away and sat up straight, meeting her uncle's eye,
"So can you finally tell me what the plan is?"
Daryl chewed his mouthful slowly, contemplating what he was going to say,
"We're gonna go get Merle. He's holed up in the Fontana jail 's far as I know…I can't just leave him there."
The young girl stretched out on the carpet, pointing her toes and then flexing them for a few moments.
"Yeah that's cool. Breaking into a jail is going to be wicked!" She grinned, but Daryl thought he saw a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes before she pulled herself off the floor and curled up on top of the blankets of the bed opposite him.
"Nighty night dude," she whispered, closing her eyes and snoring softly within minutes. Daryl picked up their empty tuna cans, throwing them into the wastepaper basket purely out of habit and double checked that the door and windows were secure, before getting into his bed. He pulled the covers up around his face and wished that he could fall asleep as easily as Logan could; he knew that when he closed his eyes images of Jess' face would flood his mind until he would eventually fall into a restless sleep.
The light creeping through the curtains shone against Daryl's eyelids, waking him with a start. They had slept later than he had intended, his niece was still snoozing, and lying in the same position she had dozed off in.
He stepped out of bed lightly, pulling on his socks and boots and stretching out his aching muscles. Movement from outside the window caught his eye and he crouched on the floor, creeping over to the door quietly and pulling back the corner of the curtain.
"Shit," the hunter hissed under his breath, dropping lower to the floor and crawling over to Logan's bed. Waking her up was like waking the dead, but eventually she stirred and mewed in annoyance, opening her eyes to glare at him.
"What the fu…?" She began, before Daryl silenced her by covering her mouth with his dirty hand, raising a finger to his lips. Logan childishly licked the palm of his hand, and he withdrew it in disgust, glaring at her. He motioned his head towards the door and after a brief pause the sounds of shuffling feet and low moans became audible.
He watched her blue eyes widen in surprise and a slow grin etch across her elfin face. She made to jump off the bed and Daryl held her back;
"Logan, no!" He whispered, his tone serious, "There's too many…even for ya to handle."
"How many?" She asked eagerly.
"Twenty…maybe, I couldn't see all of them. The car park is full of the damn things."
"We can take 'em, we're faster, stronger…"
Daryl shook his head, releasing her from his grasp so that she could slide off the bed and onto the floor beside him.
"There ain't gonna be a discussion about this. Ya need to do what I say."
"Whatever," Logan shrugged, clearly not bothered as long as there was some potential for violence.
"We can't stay 'ere all day, more of them may just keep pouring in…I'm going to give ya cover fire and let ya make a run for the truck. Don't run off and play the hero okay? Just take down the ones ya have to until yer safe and in the Ford."
"What about you?" Logan kicked on her Converse, not bothering with socks and reached up under the pillow to where she had hidden her frying pan earlier.
"Ya gonna take this," Daryl reached into his pack that was sitting next to the door and pulled out his pistol, "Once ya get to the truck ya can provide cover for me…Can ya shoot? Uh…not close range?" He asked, thinking back to the moment when she had pulled the trigger on Jess.
She snorted, took the gun and checked it over,
"I've been handling guns since I was ten, Mum's ex was a cop, he trained me up real good. Don't you even worry; I've got your back."
Daryl nodded, strangely reassured by the teen's confidence and not doubting her words for a second. Logan was a lot of things, but she definitely wasn't a liar.
She put the pistol's safety on and stepped up slowly.
"Geez girl, ya still in just my shirt!" Daryl exclaimed quietly, taking in her the oversized tee and her black, canvas high-tops. She looked down, staring at her bare legs for a moment;
"I think you mean my pyjamas. Nothing I can do about it now anyway, least I'll be able to run fast." Her grin was infectious and Daryl couldn't help but smile back. Logan picked up her backpack from where it sat next to his and glanced inside, making sure all her possessions were still in one place and then shouldered it, gripping her weapons in either hand.
She pushed one of the curtains aside and let out a low whistle at the sight of the zombies milling around the parking lot.
"Fucking oath, this is going to be hella fun!"
Once Daryl had loaded his crossbow and picked up his own bag he gave the young girl a nod and gestured to the door.
The noise of it creaking open made them both still for a moment, expecting the group outside to lunge suddenly, but they didn't even turn toward them until Logan had opened the door all the way and stepped out into the sunlight.
"Hey do you work out?" She asked the nearest undead, who turned his head at the sound of her voice, emitting a low growl.
"Logan! Stop fucking around and run!" Her uncle screamed, moving behind her and firing his crossbow, the bolt flying from it in a perfect arc and piercing the eye of woman who was lurching toward the redhead. The group of zombies were encroaching fast and everywhere Daryl turned he saw decaying flesh and lifeless hands reaching for them. Logan had disappeared into the group, eliciting a series of curses and cries from the redneck as he had shot arrow after arrow until there were none left. A flash of bright hair by the truck made him sigh in relief as the young girl popped up from the crowd, apparently no worse for wear, twirling her frying pan like it was a baton and hitting everything in sight.
A screech of tyres caught Daryl's attention over the groans of the hoard and suddenly a large 4-wheel drive had appeared, ploughing through bodies like they were nothing.
The black vehicle came to a stop and two figures jumped out; both armed with melee weapons of some description and started taking down attackers calmly and quickly. There were definitely more than twenty of the creatures out here, moving faster than Daryl had thought was possible, but they were making progress and within a few minutes of hand to hand combat had managed to slay the last of them.
"Hell yeah! That was intense!" Logan hollered to him, jumping down from where she had been clinging to the side of the truck and running over.
The strangers approached them and Daryl looked at them more closely, feeling a little wary about their sudden arrival. One was a female, with red hair several shades darker than Logan's. She looked to be in her early twenties and brandished a large machete. The other was a man, tall with black hair who wielded a baseball bat. His right shoulder and arm were bandaged and fresh blood was creeping through the gauze.
"Looks like we got here just in time," the woman said, extending a hand to Daryl, "I'm Scout."
He reluctantly shook her hand, knowing that without these two he and his niece may very well be dead now.
"Daryl," he murmured, "And this is Logan," he gestured to the girl who was standing next to him, looking very rosy cheeked and still holding the pistol and frying pan.
"This here is Noah," Scout pointed out the darkhaired man, who moved forward to shake Daryl's hand, "You're both damn lucky. That's the biggest herd we have seen so far. Must have all come from up the road a ways."
"Yeah…uh…thanks for that," the hunter rubbed his chin awkwardly, he had never been good at small talk.
"You guys from around here?" Noah asked, glancing around nervously as if waiting for more zombies to appear.
"Nearby…We're just passing through," Daryl replied, testily, as he walked through the fallen bodies, pulling his arrows out of the skulls and shoulders they had struck.
Scout nodded and ventured a smile at Logan;
"I have to say honey, for a small fry, you did pretty well out there."
"'Pretty well?' Whatever you reckon Jessica Rabbit, I kick arse!"
"Cocky little thing aren't you?" Scout laughed, turning back to Daryl, "She yours?"
"My niece," he sniffed in response, bewildered by her relaxed nature, she seemed so at ease talking to perfect strangers.
"Have you been bitten?" Logan stared at Noah's wound, frowning at the bloody bandages, "'Cause I'm happy to 'take care' of you if you like." The man's brown eyes widened in surprise and a touch of fear and he raised one hand defensively.
"No, no need for that…I was shot."
"Shot?" The girl enquired, "That's pretty cool…"
Scout nodded,
"I wouldn't exactly say that, but yeah there is some maniac on the roof of the jail in town, taking pot shots at everything that moves, whether it's Turned or not."
"I'm lucky he just grazed me, a few inches over and that would have been it for me."
"Merle," Daryl muttered to himself, trying to make eye contact with his niece, who was attempting to poke Noah's wound and earning glares from both the newcomers.
"We gotta head out now…thanks again," he started, tugging on Logan's shirt and leading her back over to the truck.
"No worries, always good to see other survivors. Stay safe! And keep away from that lunatic!" Scout called, wishing them well as Daryl helped Logan into the truck and dumped his bag next to her, before walking around the front of the cab to the driver's side door.
"That ain't no lunatic," he scowled, "He's my brother."
He watched looks of confusion and worry pass between Noah and Scout as he reversed the Ford, avoiding their larger car and drove back out of the motel car park, heading into Fontana.