Sink Into the Underground

After their huge influx of conversation, Campbell went silent for much of the drive as the sun sank slowly into the horizon. Daryl figured it was because her vocal cords weren't used to speaking so much, and must have become sore over the ten minute period of their conversation. He supposed he didn't have much room to judge on the matter, and joined her in silence. The Bass Pro Shop would be a good place to fill up with essential survival items, if it hadn't already been ransacked. Maybe pick up a new RV, as they had lost Dale's in the fire at the farm and had suffered for it ever since. Surely there were plenty of gas tanks to siphon and bring back...

The possibilities were endless, and Daryl had only been to one Bass Pro Shop in his life, so he figured his imagination must have had holes in it and there was a whole other angle of this trip he was missing. Some facet of survivalist orgasmic material that had slipped his mind. He glanced over at Campbell.

"What're you smiling about, boy?" Her soft southern accent had proven to be decidedly cutting. How the hell did she manage to channel her inner Drill Sargent whenever she spoke?

"Just thinking. I've only ever been here once!"

"So you're excited to go shopping?" She sounded as if she were chiding him, like he were just a child riding in the car with his mother to the store. Christmas presents weren't a luxury afforded to Daryl when he was a kid, but he could use his imagination. He shot Campbell the meanest look he could muster, to which she just raised an eyebrow. "Intimidating."

"Got any feelings, woman?" She looked pensive for a moment, as if considering the idea of feelings, and then shook her head.

"Can't say that I do."

"You're fun."

They fell silent for the remainder of the drive, all ten minutes of it. The store was secluded nicely, and this had spared it from much of the looting and from being surrounded by walkers like most other places. Yet, it was so large Daryl couldn't help but wonder how Campbell had managed to secure the whole place. So many windows...

The Kentucky girl made as if she were going to pull up into the first non-handicapped spot in the parking lot, which made Daryl snort with laughter.

"What?" She was indignant, in the middle of her turn into the spot.

"There are walkers around and you're afraid of getting a parking ticket?" Inspired to anger by his comment, she pulled up as close to the front door of the establishment as she could, the bumper of the jeep touched the door. She yanked the parking brake and stared at Daryl pointedly.

"If I have a ticket when we leave here, I swear to Jesus..." She laughed. It was the first time Daryl had seen the girl smile in their short acquaintanceship, but that smile did something indescribable to her face... Her gray eyes lit up, her slightly largish nose crinkled, and he had yet to ever meet someone with a million dollar smile, but he supposed that was what she had. It may have been an odd thing to notice, but her teeth were nothing short of perfect. What were those things rich folks had to get their teeth fixed? Braces? She had to have had those.

He smiled and nocked a quarrel to his crossbow as the pair climbed ot of the Jeep and passed through the large wooden doors into redneck paradise.

It was heaven. Daryl had to pinch himself to be certain he was still among the living. The camouflage, the flannel, the weapons, the taxidermy... He wasn't surer he ever wanted to go see the group at the prison any more. He didn't care. He wanted to roll around in the essence of this place.

"Right I'll do a sweep of the left half. You do the right. We'll meet upstairs." Campbell almost had to repeat herself before she set off with her bow at the ready. Daryl did as he was told, checking for walkers in the left side of the store before he jogged up the right set of stairs. He was finally reunited with the blond in what he supposed was the invisible ares of the store - it was filled with camouflage clothing, from hats to boots and Ghille suits for the master of disguise.

"Clear?"

"Clear."

"Well then. I'm going to cook us something. I'll be in the large black RV in the back. Find me some new arrow tips." With that she was off, leaving Daryl to frolic. It was the first time in his life he ever felt like frolicking, he felt like a princess in a field of wildflowers and this was extremely confusing.

First, he searched out a box of fresh arrow tips for Campbell, a pack of lethal looking broad heads that he had seen on her arrow tips. They certainly were efficient, easy to replace or sharpen and would still work even if slightly broken. Then again, even a flat-headed arrow would probably work when broken. Then, he surveyed the clothes. He was beyond due for a clean shirt, and he knew that the stink of human would probably never wash out of his, and this made him strangely self conscious around Campbell. Even though he was sure she didn't have feelings, he was sure her nose did.

With new clothing, a flannel jacket, arrow tips and a bag of beef jerky in hand, he meandered to where she said she would be. The RV wasn't very easily found in the sea of other RVs and boats and trucks in the warehouse-like back room of the Bass Pro, and by the time he did finally find the thing (by following his nose), he was beyond frustrated. The way he thundered up the stairs reflected this.

"Thought I'd lost you," Campbell chided, as she caught the box of broad heads Daryl chucked at her head. She was too good, and he grumbled at this thought as he sunk onto the couch of the RV, checking out the digs. "Nice place, huh?"

"Can you drive this?"

"I suppose I could," She was making something that smelled wonderfully smokey.

"What is that?" Daryl stood, and hovered over her shoulder, forgetting about his fresh clothes.

"Hodgepodge." Campbell sounded decisive, but he had never heard of it before, so he pressed until she snapped at him, rapping his knuckles with the metal camping spoon she wielded. "It's a bunch of random shit in a pan, Daryl! There's beef jerky and some frozen vegetables from the kitchen freezer." She caught his confused look, and explained, "It's hooked up to the propane, so it still works."

Daryl nodded and sat back down on the couch, out of the way, and sucked on his knuckles where she had struck him. Man she was harsh. Harsh, but attractive. She even served him part of her "hodgepodge" with a fork and salt. Oh, if this was what having a woman around was like - couch side service and quality weaponry - he could handle that...

"What's your plan?" And then she started asking the hard questions. Great.

"What do you mean?" Evaded like a pro.

"I know you have people. A group. Are you leaving me here for them?" Scratch that last. Daryl hadn't supposed she was so quick. He figured that when people didn't talk, it was because they didn't want people to tear them down for being a little slower than most. It was the southern way. Apparently, she kept her mouth shut because she did that anyway.

"Youre a tough nut, girl." Her glare was scathing. "What says I want to go back?" She lifted an eyebrow in response.

"I'm better at reading people than you are, Daryl. We're the same, you and I. Groups always see me as an asset rather than a person. Do they do that to you?" She took a bite of her hodgepodge and chewed it carefully, her gray eyes unrelenting on Daryl. He knew how she felt, he could feel the sting of being important but not belonging. Of being used. It was right there in her glare.

"They can't go it alone."

"So you're gonna leave me?" Now he could see her hurt. That little lonely fracture in her gray eyes that he could see in his own eyes whenever he looked in the mirror. She wanted a group for the same reasons he had.

"I don't know you, Campbell. I'm still feeling this out." She sighed in reply, and abandoned her meal to stand.

"I'm going to shower. You should too. There's water here, even if it's cold."