He kept pondering about Carol and all that had happened as he pushed on towards the coast. They had been so close to something at the prison, hadn't they? Sure they had, he was almost certain of it. There must've been some truth behind all that flirting she was doing and ridiculous pet names she kept teasing him with. She must've meant at least some of it? Daryl could picture Carol's mischievous smile and no, there had been something there. He knew it. If only he had dared to do something about it. He thought, if Rick hadn't exiled Carol and the Governor hadn't come back, it would've been a matter of only weeks before he would've made his move. He was already picturing different scenarios how he would go about it in his head before the time people got sick and Carol disappeared. Where they would be (down by the stream) and what would happen (she would kiss him and he'd pick her up in his arms and lay her down in the grass) and how life would alter after that (no more lonely nights and oh, such sweet things). The biggest problem was the lack of privacy, and all them new folks needing stuff. If he recalled back, he could count on his one hand how many alone moments Carol and him had in a week. There was never enough time, and there still wasn't.
He suddenly wished he wasn't alone on his bike. He wished Carol was with him, wished he could feel her thighs around his waist and her soft chest against his back. He wished he could show her all the new places he'd seen so far this day. This county was beautiful and still rather undestroyed by human hands. Sometimes he passed old overgrown vineyards, thinking he should stop for some ripe grapes but the day neared late afternoon and he wanted to spend the night by sea. But the thought of spending the night alone wasn't that thrilling. What if he had met Carol earlier in life? Would they have become friends? Would he have taken her to the sea then? No, because there was husband Ed, and there was meth-addict Merle and they had lived in two separate worlds. He could never had taken her to the sea in a previous life, but he could now. If only she wanted to, but she didn't.
Daryl reached up and wiped a stray tear from his cheek. She didn't want him anymore and Daryl didn't know how to handle those feelings so he did what he did best, pushed them down and drove on.
After half an hour he passed a small town called Kilmarnock. It had several supermarkets that looked worth checking out and he memorized their location for the trip home. The bay wasn't far now, he could almost smell the salt in the air. A couple of minutes after Kilmarnock he got to White Stone that Aaron had talked about. He turned onto the 695 or Windmill Point Road and continued to drive as far as he could. He definitely smelled the sea now and after a while he saw the first beach houses. They were huge and insanely luxurious. Some of them had boarded up windows like the inhabitants had prepared for a hurricane and he wondered if maybe there were people left in there. He didn't see anyone so maybe they had just tried to protect their houses against looters after the evacuation. Like folks nowadays didn't have crowbars. Pffft! Rich dumbasses.
The road turned south and suddenly ended at the Windmill Point Marina, and there it was, the ocean, blue and vast. He could vaguely make out the other side of the Rappahannock river mouth straight ahead but a little to the left it was only water as far as he could see. He turned off the engine and drew a deep breath. The salt and the sand tickled his nose a bit but it was the freshest air he'd smelled a long time. To his right were a couple of brick row houses that looked battered by the coastal weather and no one caring for them a long while. To his left was the club house of marina and behind it a small harbor with luxury boats, some half sunken, some wiped up on land by a recent storm. There were no walkers around. Absolutely no one and it felt almost eerie. But the sand on the streets everywhere told him there had been storms recently and he guessed all remaining geeks had washed away.
He looked at the ocean again. The waves came crashing in and the sound of it was soothing. Here, it felt like life had kept going. The ocean didn't care about the loss of human, it probably thrived now. There were seagulls yelling in the air, doing dives into the water, catching small fish. Wading birds running around on their funny looking little legs hunting bugs. Yeah, he could stay here for a while.
The sun was going down and painted the landscape in a warm glow. He needed to find someplace to stay. Ocean view was preferable, and after circling around the area for a while he settled on a house east of the marina with the beach just out in front. This house was huge too and there was even a pool which Daryl found silly considering the ocean. The windows weren't boarded up on this house so it was easy to break a small window next to door. The door handle was too far away though so he crawled in through the narrow space, careful not to cut himself. Once inside he was standing in a big, white painted hallway with old mirrors and very expensive looking furniture. There was a miniature sailboat in the ceiling. Everything was in off-white colors and very old-fashioned looking. He clanked a wooden table with his knife and listened for shuffling, growling sounds. Nothing. Moving silently room for room he cleared the empty house which took almost 15 minutes because of its size. He counted to six bedrooms. All deserted.
There were still some food in the kitchen. Not much that wasn't covered in mold but he found some bean cans, a can of peaches, some stale crackers and a couple of cokes. And coffee, he found real coffee. Hell yes! That needed to come with him for sure. He sauntered into the living room with the food. Around an antique coffee table there were big comfy white couches that he plunged into. He instantly left a smudge of dirt on it. Fuck it. Why the fuck did people have white furniture anyway? So stupid. Brown leather sofas, that was more his style.
Under the huge flat screen TV on the wall in front of him was a fancy media cabinet with an old record player on top of it and roes of vinyl records on the shelves below. An album cover was haphazardly thrown on the floor in front of the cabinet. The owners must have left the house in a haste. Daryl rose from the couch and picked it up, it looked familiar. He turned it around to see the front cover. Huh, Billy Idol's Whiplash Smile. It wasn't what he had expected in this wealthy home but on the other hand, Merle had always said that Billy Idol was a faggot and a rich man's guilty pleasure. Daryl had always thought White Wedding was a kick-ass song but he never told Merle that. He liked this album too. Daryl's punk-wannabe cousin Dave with dyed blonde hair had owned it and he remembered they had listened to it a time or two in the trailer home when they were kids. He never told Merle about that either. There were a lot of things he never told Merle, or anybody. The record belonging to the cover was still in the player. Too bad there wasn't any electricity. He skimmed through the track-list. Ha! The first song on the record was called Worlds Forgotten Boy, how fucking fitting.
Daryl decided to check the cellar of the house to see if there was any back-up generators or something. If he could maybe make coffee this would be a vacation. To his luck he found a couple of Duracell backup generators. Being a beach house and all, they were probably used to power cuts during storms. That wasn't the only thing he found in the cellar, they had a whole winery down there, water bottles, fishing equipment, sunbeds, this and that for beach life, and a fucking dinghy with oars and all. Why the fuck was the rest of his crew hold up in Alexandria when they could live here? There wouldn't be any walkers coming from the sea, only need three fences, or one really since it was a peninsula. They could both fish and hunt game, plant stuff and live the sweet life, away from Negan's tyranny. Carol could sunbath on the beach on nice days and he could watch her from the upper porch. He smiled at the picture in his head, even though he knew it probably never was going to happen. But still, he needed to have a serious conversation with Rick when he got back. When he got back… He shook his head and looked around some more.
There was a door on the opposite side of the stairs down. He opened it with some difficult and found himself staring out over the beach and the rolling waves. Sand had blown up against the house when no one had been around for so long. But it was getting dark so he closed the door, grabbed a bottle of wine and the portable generator he'd placed on the stairs and headed back up. He had everything he needed.
AN: Sorry if I bored you with this. More feels to come in the next chapter. In vino veritas... and Billy Idol.