The next morning when they climbed out of the trunk Daryl didn't say much, other than to quickly let her know he was going hunting. She didn't argue. Carol was starving and she had to pee. Two good reasons for him to leave her alone for a while.
She had noticed that his mood was still quite dour. Not that she was surprised, Daryl had spent many years of his life brooding. It was an acquired skill and it was going to take a lot of effort on her part to snap him out of it. She had done it once, and would do it again. Carol knew the circumstances were different this time. Daryl had lost Merle and that was hard on him. Merle was the only blood he'd had left. And she knew, from what others had told her, that he was pretty upset when he thought she had died. But now Daryl believed that, other than her, he had lost his entire family. A group of people he had been through so much with. A group that had accepted him as one of their own. A group that made him feel worthwhile and loved. That wasn't easy for a man like Daryl to find. And even harder for him to accept.
But he had accepted it, finally. Carol smiled at the memories of a more relaxed and easy going Daryl. He had stepped up and assumed a leadership role. People respected him and they followed. She knew how much that meant to him, whether he would ever admit it or not. Those kind of memories were what made it even harder for her to see the look on his face now. The sense of loss mirrored her exact feelings when she lost Sophia. But she had survived and even allowed herself to be happy after a while. He would too. Carol was determined to make sure they found everyone who survived. And if there truly was no one else, though she didn't believe that for a second, she would make sure they found a new family. It would never, ever replace those they lost, but in time she would see the real Daryl emerge from that shell again. Her Daryl was in there, she just needed to bring him out.
Carol busied herself making a fire. She knew Daryl would return with food, he always did. There was a need inside him to take care of people. And that need was a huge part of his mood. Carol knew he felt like he let the others down. He would always believe there was more he could have done. She only hoped that someday, if it ended up they were all that was left, it would be enough that he had saved her. He always saved her. Carol could only pray that he wouldn't live to regret his need to keep her safe.
She kept the fire lit, but low, waiting for his return as her stomach growled. Carol pulled out her knife when she heard rustling from the bushes. She put it back when she realized it was him, with food.
Breakfast turned out to be a giant rattle snake. Carol had eaten a lot of wild meat that Ed had brought home from hunting trips, deer, rabbit, wild turkey, even raccoon meat once (which was quite gross) but she had never tried snake. Her stomach turned slightly at the sight of the limp creature in Daryl's hands but she had only gratitude for his effort and made sure he knew.
"Let me," she said with a smile, pulling out her knife again and taking the snake from him. "I've never done one of these before," she added.
Daryl instructed her on exactly how to prepare the meat and 10 minutes later they were roasting pieces of snake over the fire. Carol was quite surprised at how good it tasted. Kind of a combination of chicken and alligator meat. She ate, careful to avoid the bones, until her stomach couldn't handle anymore. By the time she was finished Daryl had already been done a few minutes and was sipping water from the only bottle they had. He noticed her looking at him and put the lid on tight, then tossed it to her. She actually hadn't been asking him to share at all, but when she took a sip she realized how thirsty she really was. Carol had to force herself to only drink a little. They needed to conserve it until they were able to find a water source, or more bottles.
As she tightened the cap herself Carol took another peek over at Daryl. He was staring into the fire, in that same trance and she knew they needed to get moving again. "Let's go," she said, standing up. Carol started to put out the fire and Daryl glared at her. "Come on, we need to keep looking, trying to track the others."
"We looked all day yesterday and found nothing," he replied angrily. "There's no tracks to be found, get that through your head."
Carol took a deep breath to calm herself. Yelling back at him wasn't going to get her anywhere. It was just going to make his mood even worse. If that was possible. She decided to take a different approach. "Well then let's go scavenge. We're almost out of water and we need to start gathering supplies to help us survive." She finished kicking dirt over the flames and stomped a bit on the fire pit, just to be sure she had put it out. If there was even a spark left it could catch and set the entire woods on fire. There hadn't been much rain lately and the dry leaves and twigs would start up easily. "Come on, let's go."
Daryl still didn't move so she grabbed her things and turned to leave. She figured he would follow but she was a ways from the campsite and she didn't see him behind her. Suddenly she was surrounded by 4 walkers. "Oh shit," Carol muttered, drawing her knife and lunging for the first one. She dropped it, but the others were closing in on her. She stabbed another but her knife dropped with it as the walker fell to ground. There was no way she had time to get it out. The only option she had left was the gun in her waistband. Just as she reached for it a bolt slammed in to the closest walker. Carol dodged before it fell into her and was able to lunge for her knife. Another bolt hit the last walker, but Daryl missed the head and the walker was on top of her, just as she got the knife out. The mouth was heading right at her face when Carol twisted and stabbed it right between its eyes. She grunted as the dead weight landed on top of her, blood dripping onto her shirt.
Daryl pulled the walker off her and offered a hand to help her up. "Thanks," she said, jumping up gracefully back onto her feet. "I could have…" she started.
"I know," Daryl interrupted.
Carol was going to explain that she could have taken care of herself but immediately felt bad. She reminded herself that a huge part of what Daryl was going through had to do with taking care of people. In some strange way it could have helped his mood, just a little tiny bit, to rescue her. On the other hand, it was also a reminder of losing the others all over again, so perhaps it had actually made things even worse.
She knew when he led her back to the camp site and sat down that she had indeed made things worse. But she was also getting frustrated and couldn't hold back her anger any more. "You brought me back here? Why? Are we just going to build another fire and sit here wallowing? Stare into the flames until we die of thirst or starvation?" Carol had been biting her tongue for a long time and she couldn't hold back at that point, even if she wanted to. "If you want to stay here, fine. But I'm going. I'm going to find supplies and then I'm going to find our friends. I won't give up Daryl. I won't."
Carol chose a different direction this time and took off. She stomped angrily but the anger faded when she peek back over her shoulder and noticed he was following, closely, this time. Score one for Team Carol, she thought, allowing herself a tiny smile.
When they emerged from the woods they stepped onto the fairway of a golf course. The grass was unkempt obviously, but you could still tell it was a golf course. She could see the flag for the hole they were on still in the cup on the green. "There's gotta be a clubhouse," Carol said. "Let's go check it out." They followed the fairway to the green and then to the next hole. It was hole 8, which meant that the end of the next hole was likely near the club house. They walked to the tee blocks of the 9th hole and Carol could see the club house in the distance. She felt hopeful as they got closer.
They entered through the front doors, on high alert. There were walkers hanging from the ceiling in the main room. People who had checked out. Given up. Carol understood it, but it also annoyed her deeply when she fought so hard to survive and others just took the easy way. Part of her wanted to cut them down and end their suffering for good, but a bigger part of her decided that just leaving them there would satisfy her annoyance.
When they were confident the area was clear Carol headed off on her own to search for anything worthwhile, while Daryl went in another direction. She was up on a stool digging through a kitchen closet when she heard a walker approaching, quickly. Carol had a bottle of olive oil in her hand. She jumped down and smashed the bottle on the door frame, then used the broken jagged edges of glass to stab at the walker. She was struggling. It was a lot more difficult than using a knife, but she had to act quickly. With one final stab she killed the walker, but at the same time the remaining bottle shattered and sliced her palm open.
Carol squealed at the sting in her hand. It wasn't very deep, but it was bleeding and felt like a razor cut. Daryl appeared and rushed to her. He grabbed her hand and wrapped it tightly with his bandana. There was a chance her hand was contaminated with walker blood. She wasn't concerned about turning, but she was worried about infection. Obviously Daryl had the same thought. "It needs to be cleaned. Maybe we can find some alcohol around here."
They headed for the bar area and started to search. The patrons had obviously drank up most everything before they decided to hang themselves. There were glasses all over with little remnants of various drinks, but no way to tell exactly what was in them. Carol found a bottle under the bar and pulled it out. "Peach schnapps?" she handed it over to Daryl. "I wouldn't mind drinking it," she added. "But I'm not sure it's the best to cleanse a wound."
Daryl took the bottle and shattered it on the floor. "That shit ain't good for neither," he muttered. "Let's go."
"One sec," she ran back to the other room and grabbed a couple of brand new golf shirts and stuffed them in a bag. "Okay, ready." Carol followed him out of the country club. His step had more of a purpose and she felt a slight sense of relief. It was at least a step in the right direction. Carol had no idea where they were going, but Daryl seemed to. She thought about the peach schnapps she could have drank, but she didn't feel any sense of loss. Even if it was just smashing a bottle at least Daryl was showing a little passion for something. And once again, he was taking care of her. Carol smiled again, confident her bad luck, though causing a painful throb in her hand, was going to be just the catalyst she needed to get Daryl back on track.