Azzkick4Ammo - Maybe. Though people are going to die soon, so...who knows?
Axelrocks - Ah, that's okay. Can't expect you to review all the time (though I do worry when my loyal reviewers are gone for a while...)
Brazen Hussy - Spork is also the sound that Aquaman's suit makes on dry land when he takes it off and drops it on the floor. The more YOU know...
peonies01 - Thank you. It's lovely to have such kind reviewers. You're a genuine peach. ^_^
raizingkain2001 - Meh, not bad. A little too young looking for the Lt., but probably up there with my top five favourite reviewer choices. Thanks for the review! ^_^
HGRHfan35 - Well, happy anniversary to you. I'm looking forward to that sweet bread update. ^_^ I would love to see your Caryl painting. Hit me up with a PM and I'll send you my email so that I can feast my eyes on sweet bread and sweet Caryl. ^_^
Laura - Thank you for the review! I'm glad you think this story is getting better. You're a kind person.
LL - I agree. Smut is a lovely thing, but Caryl is just deeper somehow to me. Like more innocent and pure. Almost old fashioned in a strange way...
itsi3 - Cher is a beautiful word, isn't it? I love how the Cajun's say it, just rolls off their tongues 'sha'. Like a whisper almost.
Lilone1776 - I'd like to, but death is a thing which happens in this world...
Merle's Right Hand - Weird people are the best. You make the world go around (says a perfectly normal person).
Supfan - I agree. I was expecting death and destruction and it seemed to just...fizzle out at the end.
GG - Hmm...Daryl and Lt. make up sex...? Wouldn't that piss the Carylers off? Ah haha, I could just imagine it, the Lt. being all cheeky and Daryl being all grumpy...I'm obviously kidding, you guys. Cool your balls down.
You know what I love about my reviewers? You never have anything unnecessarily cruel and malicious to say to me. You're probably on the top of the list of wonderful, intelligent human beings that I've been honoured with having exchanges with. You keep on being beautiful people my lovelies.
That being said, this is the chapter that begins the heartache.
Chapter Seventy-Four: Mal Pris II
**The Lieutenant**
The sun seemed to shine just a little differently over Georgia than it did over the bayou.
Sitting on the East wall early the next morning, the Lieutenant watched as the sun forced streams of golden light through the freshly budding trees of the forest and gauge the day from the way it was beginning.
It was going to be hot, but the humidity made rain a possibility later in the evening. Hell, maybe even a spring rainstorm.
That would make Annie's night a lot harder.
Deciding it was a good day to hunt down that salud turkey, the Lieutenant eyed the forest below him, looking for a good spot to hop down from the wall.
"It's gonna be hot today," he addressed the form approaching him from his three o'clock. "Bayou hot."
Turning he grinned widely at Carol as she stopped neatly at his side.
"Morning, ange."
She smiled sweetly at him. "Morning, Lieutenant."
"What are you up to this early?" He asked.
"Going hunting," she said, holding up her rifle with a child-like grin.
He chuckled. "Oh? Wasn't aware you hunted."
"I've never hunted before, but I figured you'd be as good a teacher as any."
"Daryl know you wanna head out?"
"He's not my keeper." She replied.
"No, but he's already mad at me, shouldn't poke the gator more than necessary."
"Why are you two fighting?" She asked softly.
The Lieutenant squinted at the sunlight. "Oh, I suppose it's because I'm the conflict that's standing in the way of the force."
"Did you say something you regret?"
"No."
She was quiet for a moment. "Did he?"
"You know there was a man one time, he said 'never impose on others what you would not choose for yourself'. I never had time to adjust to normal life after our transport landed from Fallujah. I went from bloodshed and violence over there to hopelessness and bloodshed here. I'm tired, ange. I'm so tired of the blood and the death and everyday not knowing who'll live and who'll die. Maybe I just wanted a touch of humanity for the first time in years. But I must go alone, I suppose. Can't worry the others, burden them with my troubles when they have so many of their own."
"Does Grace know about this?" Carol asked. "How you feel?"
"Course not, why worry her?" Flashing her a plastic grin, the Lieutenant tipped his chin down ever so. "She's battling her own issues right now, I would imagine. Couldn't do that to her. Besides, it's not like I'm stressed right now, I'm calm, centred, found a zen-like state by harnessing my chi."
Despite his attempt at a joke, Carol felt her heart pull. The man covered so much of himself with laughter and smiles, she had never expected him to be at such a spot within himself.
Reaching out she gripped his forearm gently, squeezing it. "You know we love you, don't you? All of us?"
"Yeah, half the reason why I don't say much about it," he said. "Never been cared for so much by so many," he went on. "Don't want to abuse that with my problems."
"It's what family's for, Lieutenant," she said. "We're supposed to carry the burden for you when you find yourself floundering in troubled waters."
"I'm not floundering just yet, ange." He assured her with a wink. "But I know that you've all got me if I need it. Now I'd like to take you hunting, but this character coming up on our six fast seems like he might want to take you out instead."
The two of them glanced over their shoulders to find Daryl moving towards them.
"You know he's not really the type that apologizes," Carol said.
"I know."
"But you know he's sorry for whatever he said or did."
"Yeah, I know that too. The man was sorry the instant he said it and I forgave him the minute we walked away."
Carol smiled, just as Daryl hopped up onto the wall beside them.
The Lieutenant eyed him as Daryl cautiously edged closer to them, offering him a grim nod.
He returned the nod simply.
"It's gonna be hot today," the Lieutenant pointed out.
"Find all sorts of creatures by the creek," Daryl replied. "Good hunting in the heat."
"Yep."
Carol beamed at the two. "I'm going to take a rain check today, Lieutenant." She said.
"You sure?"
"Positive. Be careful, boys."
Helping Carol off the wall like the gentleman his Mamere raised, the Lieutenant nodded his goodbye to her as she waved at them both, before turning to Daryl.
"She sure is a special woman, isn't she?" The Lieutenant asked.
Daryl nodded. "Yeah."
Rubbing at his eyebrow with his thumb, the Lieutenant cleared his throat. "You know I'd never put her or anyone here in jeopardy, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Did I ever tell you about the time I got lost in the swamp?" The Lieutenant went on casually, hopping off the wall, Daryl close at his heels. "Was out in the bayou for three days straight…"
"Did you wipe your ass with poison oak?" Daryl asked.
"Hell no, but I did get a case of crotch itch from the chafing effects of wet blue jeans and extreme heat…"
..-~-..
..-~-..
Deciding the hunting would be better further north down by the river that ran along behind the prison, the two men had headed that way, crossing the highway, heading up a dirt road that lead to a hunting lodge tucked away deep in the woods.
It must have been a decent sized lodge, as it had a few cabins circling around it and about a half dozen blinds scattered throughout the forest all around.
It would have made a good place to stay, if it wasn't for the fact that it didn't have the safety of a wall and was tucked in almost ass to tit with the surrounding forest.
Treading quietly in the hopes of coming across game bigger than a possum, they moved together, mindful of the leaves at their feet.
Pushing through the underbrush into an open meadow, they expected to come across a deer or something for dinner.
What they weren't expecting was to find themselves face to face with two armed men who looked like they just finished checking the blind in the tree before them.
There was a crack of a gunshot and Daryl dropped beside the Lieutenant.
With his mind going into automatic Marine takeover, the Cajun fired his own rifle, dropping to one knee to make him a smaller target in the wide open as they were.
A searing pain flared up in his shoulder, but he ignored it, firing until both men were down, the forest around him alive with the snaps of gunshots.
"Jesus fuck!" Daryl snapped.
Reaching blindly for the man, the Lieutenant scuttled over to him on his hands and knees.
"Where'd they get you?" He demanded.
There was so much blood on Daryl's shirt already, more seeping through from his stomach.
"Fuck!" Daryl grunted.
Hands on the hem of Daryl's shirt, the Lieutenant paused at the sound of voices and the snaps of twigs, a group of five, maybe six heading their way.
"Can you walk?" The Lieutenant demanded.
Daryl struggled to his feet, hand held tight over his wound.
"Come on, we have to go," he urged.
Hearing the voices getting closer, the Cajun tried to propel Daryl on faster, but he staggered.
"Jesus," the Cajun cursed, dropping his rifle and pack to remove his flak jacket. "Here, put this on and run like hell, don't stop until you get back to the convent."
Daryl tried to shrug the vest off. "Fuck off."
"I'm going to buy you some time, cabri, wear it in case they shoot." The Lieutenant insisted, zipping the Kevlar vest closed on the struggling man.
"Fuck you," the other man snarled.
Frowning, the Cajun shoved the man down hard onto his face and grabbing his rifle took off running in the direction of the voices. Stomach wounds weren't necessarily fatal, not if Daryl got proper care in time and if it missed a vital organ he'd be golden. If he hauled ass to the convent he might have a chance, the Lieutenant wasn't sure what kind of care he'd get with these new people. Especially not once they found out their companions were dead.
Skidding to a halt as he suddenly came upon the men who owned the voices, the Lieutenant immediately dropped his weapon as he found six trained on him and fell to his knees, hands in the air.
"Your men shot first," he stated sliding his hands behind his head.
The leader of the group, a strong looking black man, stepped forward and kicked the Lieutenant's rifle away.
"You alone?" The man demanded.
"Yeah."
"Our men dead?" Another man asked.
Eyeing the guns trained on him, the Lieutenant nodded. "Yeah."
"In the head?"
Knowing they'd head off in the direction of Daryl to finish their men, the Lieutenant nodded. "Clean shot to the left eye, both of them."
"Where'd you come from?" The man asked.
"Been staying in a little shack up the river a ways," the Lieutenant lied.
The barrel of a rifle was pressed to his temple. "You lying to us?" Another man asked. This one was young and looked like he was fresh out of high school. Or would have been in a perfect world.
"Why would I? Don't hold your barrel to my head, son," he added after a moment. "It's rude and gives me opportunity to snatch it easily."
The kid backed off on the rifle a bit, eyeing the others nervously.
"He looks military, Shu." One of the men said, addressing the black man.
"You army?" Shu asked.
"Is there even an army anymore?"
Finding a boot stuck up against his ribs roughly, the Lieutenant grunted in pain, but remained upright.
"You military?" The man demanded.
"Lieutenant Lafayette Vancoughnett, USMC, Fifth Marine Division, First Recon Battalion."
"Put your hands behind your back," the black man ordered.
As the Lieutenant did so, the black man moved up behind him and zap strapped his hands together tightly at the wrists. It wasn't until the man tugged roughly on the strap to ensure its hold around his wrists that the Lieutenant felt the pain from the gunshot to his shoulder.
"Look, it was an accident," the Lieutenant said. "I'm sorry, but instinct cut in and I didn't mean to kill them…"
"Shut up," the man ordered.
"We should kill him," one of the men supplied.
"We can't," the black man snapped. "The Governor is going to want to see this one. If he's from the area, he might know of the prison group."
Forcing his chest to rise and fall slowly, the Cajun blinked and cleared his throat. "Who are you people?" He asked. "I was on the trail of a turkey and just came across your boys."
The men ignored him.
"You got a group nearby?" He tried to engage them once more, but they continued to talk amongst themselves.
"Look," he went on, "I'm sorry about your men, but it was pure survival instinct."
"We have to go back for Clarence and Justin," the young man suggested softly. "We can't leave them to rot in the forest."
Deciding he needed to distract them in case Daryl needed more time to escape, the Lieutenant broke in quickly. "Times being what they are, son, I don't think it really matters much where your boys rot."
At the six pair of glaring eyes, the Cajun winced. "May they rest in peace."
"You talk too much," the black man snarled.
That was the last thing he heard, before he collapsed face first onto the forest floor.
..-~-..
..-~-..
**Daryl**
By the time he scrambled to his feet, the dumb assed Cajun was long gone. Looking around in confusion, holding his hand tightly to the area over the vest where his wound was, he searched for his crossbow.
He needed to find the Lieutenant, he had to pull his weight.
Fuck, what kind of asshole was he? Getting shot like a little bitch by a couple of bitches in the woods.
Staggering to his knees beside his crossbow, he picked it up and looked around again.
He had to get back to the convent, get the others.
Scrambling through the woods, he dropped to his knees a few times in his haste.
"Fuck," he snapped to himself as he collapsed at the highway. "Get it together you fucking pussy."
Dropping flat into the ditch as he heard a truck approaching, Daryl peeked out over the edge of the road, watching as a heavy military transport truck drove by, driven by the black man who was there the night Daryl and Merle were put into the death match arena of Woodbury. He couldn't forget a face, especially not of the man who put his grimy assed Woodbury paws all over his crossbow like it was some piece of ass instead of a fine piece of instant death.
Eyeing the road where the truck had come from, he spied the driveway into the hunting lodge and narrowed his eyes.
Fucking Woodbury had the Lieutenant, it had to have been them and if the dumb ass was still alive he wouldn't be much longer.
"Fuck," he snarled.
Clamping his hand over his wound, he got to his feet and started off in the direction of the convent once more.
The Cajun Dialect
Erm...nothing new here actually. Oh, but I would like to make it clear that Cajun French is very different from Parisian French and Quebecois and Michif for that matter...and Haitian French actually. You know something, each variation of French is actually vastly different from the others. Just thought that should be said. Thanks for reading. ^_^