He lays the maps down on the ground, sets rocks in the corner, and they all huddle around. They try to gain their bearings, between the bus terminal they're assuming is where they just were, and where the prison was. Daryl drags his finger over the thick green blotches, the woods, trying to find a cemetery marking. The funeral home. Maggie, Sasha and Bob argue about where they think the bus was stopped. They think they find the tunnel where they finally met Glenn and the rest of them.
Daryl finds the crossroads, he thinks. Road, road, train tracks. It's not far from a cemetery marker. He taps the map. "This is where I met up with Joe and them."
He let's his hand fall away. He sits back on his heels. They haven't pushed, haven't demanded answers, and he's thankful for that. He can't look up, especially not to Maggie or Rick, when he says, "Someone took her in a car. That's where I lost the car."
"A car, shit, could be anywhere now. And how long's it been? What are the honest chances-" But Rick cuts Abraham off with a look. Daryl feels his hands clench, doesn't do it by thought, and he tries to relax them, telling himself it would be ok, cause at least he'd know one way or the other.
"We stayed in a funeral home. It was someone else's hide out. Everything was clean. Fresh food. Peanut butter. Diet soda. Good stuff. The car had a cross painted on the back." Daryl finishes. "I don't think they were gonna go far."
Daryl feels like it takes them far too long to decide on a plan of action, he's antsy, and he feels worse by far- being around them, the shared glances that he has no partner for, it makes him long for something he'd never wanted in the first place. He'd tried so hard, edging years closer to 40, to keep people away. Now he just wants to shut his trap and get a move on.
They argue about splitting up because it'd be faster- Abe's idea- and Maggie is the one to point out that their group is used to fighting together. Numbers is always how they kept things safe. Daryl couldn't help listening to all the input, thinking of Sophia, thinking of the half-assed searches they'd tried to put together.
Eventually, Rick decides they should follow the road the car was on. They fold the maps back up.
It only takes them two days to get back to where he'd been. He's glad they weren't going all the way back, to the funeral home. He doesn't want to share that place. He doesn't want to see it again, either, even though he thinks about her bag, forgotten on the road.