Journey to You
Chapter Two
Missed by Miles
For everyone that enjoyed the first chapter I am bringing you another! Starting next weekend this story will begin to fall in line with all of my other updates, but I wanted to give you guys a few chapters before I started that.
Hope you enjoy!
'But you can skyrocket away from me
And never come back if you find another galaxy
Far from here with more room to fly
Just leave me your stardust to remember you by
-Boats and Birds by Gregory and the Hawk
Jobs had been dished out to each of the adults as soon as they arrived back at her parent's home, her mother grabbing and packing all food they had in the house that could be moved if needed, and her father grabbing his weapons, as Calla took care of grabbing clothes. She had made sure to keep Maverick close as she flitted from room to room. Her mind was racing as she handed him yogurt drops to keep him busy as she searched for her phone to call Daryl.
They shook so badly that she dropped the phone twice before calming them enough to hold on so she could dial the number. It rang forever, announcing to her that he was working, not having it on him, and she desperately hung up before punching in the new set of numbers that she had memorized shortly after he had started the job.
"Jasons' Auto Repair what can we do for you today?" came a sweet elderly voice. Calla breathed out in relief at hearing Georgina's voice.
"Georgie, it's Calla, I need you to get me Daryl on the phone right away," her voice shook, as she tried regaining control over her emotions, but she knew it must sound as if she was on the verge of crying. It wasn't far off. She could feel them prickling at the back of her eyes. "It's an emergency."
"Honey are you all right?" Georgina asked. "You don't sound well. I thought you all were on vacation with your parents."
"Please, Georgie, just get him. Hurry." The line went silent, and she could hear the distant sound of some kind of machinery, or tools before there was shuffling, and her ears were met with the one sound that she had been anxiously in need of hearing.
"Calla, what's going on?" Daryl asked, his voice anxious, the sound deep and raspy, but it put her at ease more than anything else could. "Georgina said something sounded wrong with yah."
"Daryl," she cried, having tried to force the tears back, but she found that the dam broke as soon as any sense of safety filled her at the sound of his voice.
"Peach, yah gotta calm down, breathe for me, girl." He coached her through calming her breathing, and she felt some of the control come back. Control was what she needed right now. She needed to calm down, tell Daryl what happened, and hopefully have him at her side in the next few hours. First, she just needed to explain.
"We were at the zoo, and it was terrible, they were attacking people right in front of us." Her voice had calmed enough that it only wobbled now but held firm. "One of them attacked daddy. She just lost her mind and kept comin' even though he shot at her leg. Daryl, he got hurt, she bit him, and he had to shoot her, to make her stop. She just kept comin'." She was dangerously close to having her voice break again, but she took a deep breath, lightly shaking herself, as she breathed out in a big exhale.
"Fuck," Daryl cursed, the worry only deepening as he listened. "Listen, Calla, I want you to get all of yer shit packed up there, help yah parents, Merle, and I are gonna come to get all of ya'll. You sit tight, stay safe in that house, and make sure to be ready for us. I'm comin' for yah, darlin'. I promise. I'll be there as fast as I can."
"Please, hurry, Daryl. I'm not gonna lie I'm freaking out a bit over here." She giggled, the sound void of humor, and high-pitched, sounding on the verge of delirium. "I need you right now."
"Sit tight. Do what I said. Don' leave that house, Calla." His voice was stern, a tone he hardly ever used toward her, unless they were in one of their rare arguments, or she had been too much of a tease.
"I love you."
"I Love you too, darlin'. I gotta go. I'll call when we're on the way."
Calla allowed the phone to drop onto the bed as she continued to pack the three separate bags. An hour later her father had the van packed completely but had warned them to stay indoors now that the sun had begun to set.
"Shouldn't we go to that safe zone they're talking about on the radio?" her mother asked, looking worried, as she fretted about the kitchen.
"Mama, Daryl said he was coming here," Calla reminded her. "We can't leave."
"I just think it would be safer there is all." With time Calla had started to settle, her fear and anxiety dampening, but her mother had just grown the more time passed. "We could leave him a note, tell him where we're going to be. You've seen what it was like. What if one of those people came here?"
"Brianna," her father said, his voice raspy, as he coughed. "We should wait here for Daryl. We'll be fine."
"Daddy," Calla worriedly said, moving to place a hand over his forehead. She had noticed the way he had grown paler, looking tired, and she had assumed it was the stress, but then that cough had started. She was worried he had grown sick. "Let me see that wound. It could be infected, that woman bit you, and you're not looking so good." She pulled back her hand in surprise at the way his skin felt like it had burned her. "You're runnin' a temp."
"Albert," her mother chided. "You should have said something. Are you not feeling well?"
"I'll be fine. This is nothing. I didn't wanna worry the two of you."
"You should lie down."
"Listen to your daughter, Albert." Her mother manhandled him into lying down in their bedroom, promising to keep him posted on anything the news said, and that they would wake him when Daryl arrived.
Calla stared out the window, night had settled over them, coating them in a blanket of black. It was hard to make out what could be going on outside, but all seemed calm, at the moment. They had watched as a few neighbors seemed to flee, likely heading toward the safe zone in Atlanta, but Calla had held firm in staying put.
"I hope Daryl gets here soon," she whispered, causing her mother to glance over at her. Softly, Calla's fingers weaved through Maverick's dark brow hair, his head laid in her lap, as he slept.
"I'm sure he will be," her mother soothed.
"It's been two hours. He should have called to tell me he was on his way already."
"Perhaps he just forgot in his haste to get to you. Didn't you say he was grabbing his brother? He got sidetracked. There are lots I'm sure that he was grabbing for the three of you back at home, and traffic is terrible coming up here on a good day."
"He would have called, mama." Calla bit her lip as her gaze dropped toward her lap, taking in her son's sleeping face, and allowing it to calm her racing mind. She needed to be strong for him right now. "I'm going to call him."
She gently slid out from underneath the sleeping boy, laying him carefully onto the couch, before grabbing a throw blanket to place over him. Calla snatched up her phone from the countertop, where she had left it after a thousand times checking for a missed call, only to frown at the busy signal she had received.
"That's strange."
"What is, honey?"
"The call isn't going through."
"Maybe it's just busy, I'm sure a lot of people are trying to call right now, just keep trying until you get through. In emergency situations like this, that's always for the best."
Calla felt uncomfortable with this new knowledge and wondered if Daryl had tried, only to find that he hadn't been able to get through. She was certain he was beyond worried right now, and Calla silently cursed separating from him for this trip. She should have just postponed it until he had been able to get the time off, but she had been pushy, excited to see her parents missing them something bad, and hadn't thought the strange illness on the news was worth being worried over. She had been certain she could survive a week without him and had made that trip to her parents a million times, that she was certain nothing would go wrong.
Nothing had, until now, and she was regretting it.
She tried, again, and again, with no luck, before suddenly her phone lost service altogether.
"Mama, turn on the television. Let's see if we can figure out what's going on."
"They've hardly spoken anything helpful all night, I doubt it'll be anything different now."
"Mama, please!"
The older woman huffed but moved to grab the remote that was within her reach as she clicked it on, only finding herself confused at the lack of the normal news channel, and instead seeing an emergency broadcast. It had stated much of the same as the radio had, telling them where the nearest safe zone was set up, and how they urged everyone to seek shelter there. The military would be there. It didn't sound like a bad setup, but Calla wouldn't leave without Daryl, not unless something forced them, as she believed he would be here in another hour. It was already nearing his typical time of arrival on a normal day. She just had to hold out a little longer.
"They've cut the feed and have this on loop," her mother said. "There's nothing else on. It's all just the same broadcast. What do they think they're doing except spawning panic."
Calla sat at the kitchen island, on a bar stool, feeling sick to her stomach, as she tried to focus on breathing. It was only getting worse. That unease underneath her skin.
"I need some fresh air," Calla gasped, as she felt the walls closing in on her.
"You shouldn't go out there." Her mother's voice had turned uncertain, her eyes bouncing toward the window, as she wrung her hands.
"I won't go past the porch. It's quiet out there and I just really need to be able to breathe. I won't be long. Watch over Maverick for me, okay." Leaning over she kissed her mother's cheek softly before casting her son one last glance before escaping out the door.
The wind rustled her hair, trying to tug it free from the ponytail she had thrown it in the moment they had gotten back to the house. The breeze cooled her flushed cheeks as she took several deep breaths, and felt the way the crickets, and frogs, eased her frayed nerves. Her eyes bounced around the small yard, taking in the neighbor's houses, as she stared down the street, willing for the familiar headlights of Daryl's truck to light up the night.
She believed he would come. He wouldn't just leave them, even if something major had happened as she suspected, Daryl would do everything in the world to make it to them.
Calla felt the way her legs gave way as she continued to stare down the road, her mind racing, as she sat on the cold wood of the front porch step.
Any moment he would appear.
She would cry, for just a moment, before feeling like everything collapsing around them could be dealt with, as long as they were together. Daryl was her strength. He was her calm. Her peace. There was nothing Calla couldn't do when he was standing next to her.
"Please appear," she whispered into the night. "Please, please, I need you, please get here." The whispered prayer fell from her lips in a mantra that was suddenly broken by the scream from inside the house.
A new wave of fresh fear rolled from her as Calla picked herself up from the porch step, stumbling in her haste, as she pushed herself toward the front door.
"Mama!" she yelled, as she entered the house. She barreled down the hallway clutching at the doorframe as she stepped into a scene straight out of a horror movie.
Her father, who had previously been lying down, his fever growing dangerously high, even with the meds in his system was now standing, skin greyed, eyes milky, and staring at her mother with a blank look as he lumbered toward her. Her mother yelled again, this time her husband's name, as she pushed at his reaching arms.
"Albert, what has gotten into you!"
"Daddy!" Calla threw herself forward, coming up behind the man, feeling something heavy settle in her stomach, as she caught sight of the bite mark, still red, and inflamed, but looking ghastly against the unhealthy tone of his skin. He reminded her of those two people back at the zoo.
Mindless.
Their only intent was to attack.
The man standing in front of her was nothing like the one who had raised her.
Calla sobbed as she grabbed at the man, pulling him away from her mother, her body shaking as he fought her hold, before she suddenly shoving him forward, into the island, watching as he tripped, and tumbled forward, hitting his head. He only seemed to shrug that off, not even a flinch from the pain, as he began to pull himself back to his feet.
"Outside!" Calla screamed at her mother, as she raced over toward her son, who was now sitting up on the couch, crying at the startling scene happening around him. "Sh, sh." She tried to console him as she was forced to dodge the scary imitation of her father, the feeling of confusion nagging at her but telling her to keep away from him.
Her mother was still frozen, staring wide-eyed at her husband, as tears streamed down her face.
"Albert!"
"Mama, we got to get out of here!" She dashed forward, using her free hand to clutch desperately at her mother, as she watched her father stumble over a chair, madly trying to reach them as Calla kept dodging him. She tugged at her mother, trying to drag her forward, as her mother continued to cry, shocked, and frozen. Calla barely managed to get the front door shut before her father was pounding on the other side, Calla shoved Maverick into her mother's arms, as she frantically clutched at the door handle, not wishing for him to get out, before Maverick and her mom made it to the car, only to hesitate as she continued to listen to the banging from the other side.
He wasn't trying to turn the doorknob.
It was like he suddenly forgot how a door worked.
Shaking fingers let go of the doorknob, watching as it occasionally was bumped into, but never turned, never showed signs that it would suddenly be flung open. Another sob escaped her lips, the sound reawakening the frenzy that was her father, as he thrashed violently against the door. She shook her head, hands coming up to wipe at her face, as she tried clearing her vision.
They couldn't stay here.
It wasn't safe to stay out in the open. Calla wasn't sure what she would do if someone else, acting like her father, came across them, not sure what you were supposed to do. It hadn't been reported on the news. They had been given no direction other than to avoid the sick, to not get close to them, and Calla wondered if the bite was what had infected her father, or if it was simply just because he had gotten close to that woman.
Did that mean she was infected now?
There were no answers for her, but Calla knew where she would get them, and as determination and a wave of sadness hit her, she knew for the safety of her son they would be leaving.
But not before she left a note for Daryl, some way for him to know where they had gone and hadn't just up and disappeared on him.
She couldn't do that to him.
The urge to reunite with him was still strong as she searched the car for a permanent marker, silently apologizing to her parents for what she was about to do but thinking it didn't really matter. The world was changing, and she figured the least of anyone's problems would be a door used as a piece of paper.
Staring at her work Calla decided it was the best that she could do, she would leave him more signs, pointing in the direction of where they went, before gathering the courage to leave, and do what was best for her son.
· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·
Daryl cursed as he hit the steering wheel of the truck, his frustration mounting as each phone call refused to go through, and the sudden urge to smack his brother overwhelmed him.
Couldn't Merle shut up for just a moment?
"Look," Merle griped his own annoyance heightening. "There ain't no way we're getting' through Atlanta. It's fuckin' stupid. Go around."
"It'll take longer to get to 'em." Daryl threw a glare his brother's way, showing how pissed he was becoming if the whites of his knuckles weren't already an indication. "That adds hours to our drive! It's all back roads, dead ends, and crappy conditions."
"If yah wanna git stuck in ta shit show that is Atlanta then by all means Darlena, take ta fuckin' fast way."
In the frustration that plagued the cab of their truck neither noticed the sudden appearance of a thick line of cars, all at a stop, waiting to gain entrance to the city that was still miles away.
"Fuck!"
"Told yah." Merle's shit-eating grin was wide, knowing he had been right, as he leaned back against the seat of the truck, waiting to see what Daryl would do now. Daryl itched to smack it off, finding him not helpful, as he flung a map in his brother's direction.
"Find the fastest fuckin' way to 'em," Daryl ordered, his mouth set in a grim line, as he backed the truck up, causing someone to honk loudly at them, but he paid it no mind, as he suddenly drove forward, hitting the grass that lined the side of the road, as he turned them around. The engine roared to life as he frustratingly turned and took off back toward the way they came from, not caring that if a cop saw them, they'd be stopped for not bothering to keep to the road and were on the entirely wrong side, let alone the lack of attention to how fast they were going once he hit concrete again.
"Gotta take a turn a couple miles away," Merle said, as he obediently searched the map. His moment of being right was over and seeing the mood his brother was in, Merle decided to be helpful. He could sense the worry and fear that was rolling from him, something new, heavier, than anything Merle had experienced from his brother since that woman came into his life.
It was best not to poke a pissed off bear.
For hours they worked mostly in silence as Merle directed them down some random road, their progress far slower than Daryl wanted, but faster than being stuck back on the main road. Merle kept most of his comments to himself, occasionally letting something slip that would have Daryl biting back at him, before a small argument would break out.
This continued for hours, until finally, in the early hours of the morning, they drove into the familiar town that Calla had been raised in. Daryl felt a little bit of the tension that had gripped him tightly during the ride, ease, just a little bit, as he reminded himself that he would be reunited with his wife and son, soon. When he turned onto the quiet street the first thing Daryl noticed was the way Callas van was gone. Normally it stayed parked in front of the house, and he hoped it was just in the garage, that this wasn't a sign of something worse as he pulled up to the house. He stared at it, noticing how the lights were still on, and the way a curtain moved in the living room.
Someone was awake.
"C'mon," Daryl muttered, throwing the door open. He was anxious to see Calla and Maverick. He could picture the way Calla would throw open that door, how he would catch her as she flung herself into his arms and braced himself for the tears he had heard in her voice earlier that night. "Behave yerself, Merle. I don' want to deal with any of yer shit here."
"Don' have ta worry 'bout meh," Merle said, raising his hands into the air, as he chuckled. "I'll play nice."
Daryl sent a disbelieving glance, feeling certain that Merle did in fact not know how to behave himself, but hoped he could manage something. Albert was old fashioned, polite, but stern, and wouldn't welcome Merle's normal way of going about things. The last thing Daryl needed was Albert trying to cast Merle out of his house because the asshole offended someone.
They walked quietly up to the front of the house, Daryl catching sight of the curtain swishing back and forth, as if someone was looking, but yet again, no one came racing out to greet them. It set him on edge. Before they could reach the door, Daryl was frowning, diverging from his path as he moved toward the window. Merle kept moving forward, only feeling the need to be invited inside, as he was starving, and tired. He hadn't reacted well to Daryl showing up on his doorstep, tearing the door down, as he began to blast off orders. Typically, his brother was more reserved than that, hardly the one that took control out of the two of them, Merle used to being the one in charge, but that hadn't been the case tonight.
Not that it had been much of the case since Calla came into the picture.
He was fucking tired and didn't give much about anything except for a few home comforts, and he knew Calla would be more than willing to show him where the food was, and a place to rest his head. She was a doll like that even when she got mouthy.
Merle lumbered up the steps readying himself to knock on the door and finally have the crazy-ass night put behind him. He stopped short at the dark lines all over the front door, out of place, and bold. He caught the name Daryl in big looping letters, handwriting that was familiar to him, it adorned the stupid Christmas letter he received every year that he would never admit actually enjoying seeing.
His jaw set as he made out what was written there, the muscles in his back tightening, as he turned to gruffly call out to Daryl, who had begun to move away from the window. Confusion was written all over his face.
"What?" he hollered out, annoyed at Merle for not having knocked yet.
"Gotta come see this."
Irritation clawed its way up his throat, but Daryl clamped down on the urge to yell at his brother, the night wearing on his nerves when another sudden movement caught his attention. The curtains were suddenly jerked roughly, causing them to snap, and fall, tangling up whoever had been messing with them.
"Maverick?" For one moment worried filled his gut that somehow that had been his son, the only one that made sense in messing with the curtains in the first place, but the lump under the cloth was too big. Man-sized, not the right shape for a two-year-old.
"Not quite, baby brotha," Merle said, his voice tight, as he made to lean over the side of the porch, staring stony eyed through the living room window.
Confused, Daryl watched as the figure struggled to untangle itself, only partly managing to do it, but it was enough for Daryl to realize it was Albert, his father-in-law, acting nothing like his normal self.
The man pulled himself to his feet, seeming content with the small view he had managed to clear himself of in the struggle, as he suddenly shoved himself forward, smacking harshly into the window.
Daryl flinched, stepping back, as he stared uncertainly at what was playing out in front of his eyes.
"What the fuck is going on?"
"Got sick," Merle said, shrugging. Both of their eyes fell to where the bite mark on his arm, the only one free from the curtains, sharply stood out. "Your woman took yah kid, and her mother, and left." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, motioning for Daryl to go read the letter addressed to him, as he pulled out a cigarette knowing he was going to need a moment.
It would seem that the restful night he was hoping for had been dashed to smithereens.
Daryl looked hesitant, having frozen at Merle's words, at the realization that his family wasn't here, where they should have been, and that his father-in-law had been reduced to a deranged monster on the other side of the glass.
His footsteps were heavy, sounding as if his body weighed a thousand pounds, a reflection of the way Daryl carried himself.
Daryl,
Daddy got sick and attacked us. I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't get a hold of you, but we have to leave. We went to the safe zone in Atlanta. Please, come find us there.
I'm so sorry.
Love, C. Dixon
Daryl felt his legs buckle, his hands reached out, clawing at the door in front of him, as he barely managed to keep himself on his feet, as his head rested against the cool wood of the door. Tears built up in his eyes as he took a moment to battle with his emotions, forcing them back into something that allowed him to think, rather than allow this dark, and racing black cloud to take over as it hovered dangerously over him.
She left the note. Which meant she was alive. He forced himself to focus on that. She would have mentioned if someone else was hurt if something had happened to her or Maverick. They would be okay. Calla was strong. She'd take care of their boy until he could find them again.
Shoving back from the door Daryl straightened his back.
He needed to focus on finding them. Calla had told him exactly where they were heading, and he had to assume they had a few hours' head start. Daryl had to focus on the thought that by tomorrow afternoon he would be back with them, to have them safely in his arms, but first, he had to pull himself together and go find them.
Turning around he stalked back down the porch.
"Merle, let's go."
"Yah sure 'bout that baby brotha?" Merle called out, flinging his cigarette down to the ground, as he crushed it with his foot. "We should stay ta night here, git some rest, won't do your girl no good if yah git yerself taken out cause yah were stupid."
"Merle!"
"Don' be an idjit, use yer head boy, it's been what, almost twenty-four hours since yah slept last. Yah won' be helpful ta anyone if yah crash."
"I'm not havin' this conversation with you." He ripped open the door of the truck. "We're goin' to find 'em now. I'll sleep when I know they're safe."
Merle rolls his eyes, moving around the truck, and shoving his brother out of the way, keeping him from getting into the driver's seat.
"Ain't gonna let yah git meh killed in a wreck. I'll drive."
Daryl grumbled but not wanting to argue any longer moved to get into the passenger seat.
They spent the drive toward Atlanta in silence, neither of them talking, as Daryl tried to do as Merle suggested, to get some rest, but his thoughts kept racing, and he didn't manage much of anything other than the occasional doze before his head was snapping back up, and his heart was racing once again.
They hit another snarl in the road, the line of cars long, but the lights of Atlanta could be seen in the distance, a beacon, as Daryl hoped Calla, and Maverick was somewhere safe, waiting for him. Merle grumbled, annoyed, as he tapped against the steering wheel, waiting for the line to move at all, but it never did. They stayed stuck there, for another hour, before he grew frustrated enough to bail from the truck, leaving Daryl to wallow, as he searched for someone with answers.
Daryl could only scoff, knowing no one this far back would know a thing, as he stared off into the distance. Knowing Calla's luck, she wasn't stuck in this traffic, already inside the safety of wherever they were holding everyone and waiting for him to arrive. He just needed to be patient. Eventually, people would begin to move. He'd get there. It would only take some time.
He wasn't prepared for the sudden sound of something flying overhead.
He ditched the truck, a frown on his face, as he followed their path with his eyes, silently following after them as he tried to find a better view.
Shock clenched his gut, as something cold, and twisted, gripped at his heart when the night sky was lit up with explosions. He barely heard the screams around him. They were barely a blip on his radar as he watched Atlanta go up in flames.
They had bombed the city.
A city that held his family.
Daryl could feel his knees giving out again, but this time he didn't try to stop their descent as they crashed into the dry dirt. Something sharp punched at his gut, the sensation knocking the air from his lungs, as he kneeled there, trying to regain his breath, the sound of wheezing escaping his lips, as all he could do was stare straight ahead as his heart was crushed.
Idly he recognized that he may be having a panic attack. The sensation was fuzzy and unfamiliar to him, but the way he had gone from numb to crushing helplessness was enough of a whiplash that it caused his brain to kickstart again.
It did nothing to soothe the ache in his chest, the pain growing with intensity, threatening to tear him to pieces, to drown him, as he heard Merle calling out for him.
He barely registered the man dragging him back to the truck, nor how he ended up sitting back in that seat, watching as the trees flew past him, as Merle tried to explain that they would be following a couple of people to a quarry a few miles away.
The pain drowned out any realization of knowledge that he knew exactly where they were going.
His family had been heading toward the city they had just bombed.
He hadn't been with them.
It was hard to breathe.
Ringing filled his ears.
He couldn't focus on anything except for the spiraling thoughts of despair that swirled dangerously inside his mind.
Calla.
Maverick.
He gripped tightly to the stuffed rabbit that had been discarded onto the floor of his truck as his tears soaked the toy.
