RIDE OR DIE | DARYL DIXON

hope

THE GAS swished around in the canister as Carl and Willow stepped slowly toward the gas station. They glanced in each direction, taking quick peeks into the dusty cars. Carl sneered as he pulled away from a window of a grey SUV, the hot air wafting in his face as a gust of wind went by, picking up the scent of the deteriorating body in the front seat.

"You never get used to it." Willow says as she, too, pulls away with a twisted face.

They weave between cars until they get to the pumps, their movement slow until an unfamiliar voice speaks out to them.

"Hi."

Carl immediately dropped the gas canister, and they both spun around with raised guns. Willow's brow lifts as the man continues to speak, but his physical presence was unknown. He's mumbling words, loud enough for them to hear, but it's as if he was having a conversation with someone else, but his voice was the only one that carried.

"I've been shot at." The man says in almost a plead. "Someone threw a microwave at me."

The two of them slowly turn as the voice travels around them, still no sight of the source. They stop turning when his voice stops moving.

"Whatever you have of good, spend on the traveler. My mom said that- that helping the traveler, the person without a home- that's everything."

Willow's eyes snap to her right as she notices Carl moving slowly towards the voice. 

"Carl-" She whispers, side stepping towards him.

He doesn't say anything, but the grip on his gun tightens. 

She lets out a huff and follows behind him, cocking her head to the side to see past him.

"My mom- she also said that, 'May my mercy prevail over my wrath.'"

Carl switches hold on his gun, keeping it tight in one hand as he removes the sheriff's hat with the other, slowly lowering himself to the ground and peering under a car in an attempt to see the man before he sees them. He's down on the ground for a good ten seconds before he's getting back up, pointing across a few cars. Willow nods and follows him in that directions, their footsteps quicker than before. Carl comes flying around a car, his gun completely raised as he yells.

"Hands up!"

Willow's gun is higher, pointing at the dirty man trembling and stepping away from them.

His arms are thrown up straight, but his posture is lacking. "Listen. I'm gone. It's cool. I just- I just wanted some- even just some food."

The three of them flinch at the loud gunshot that pierced through the air. Carl looked strangely at the end of his gun as if he fired the shot, but it came from elsewhere.

A second gunshot rang, and sent the man in front of them scrambling away. Willow didn't bother watching him run off. Her eyes were glued in the direction of the firing, dragging Carl down with her behind a car. They both squatted, silently, listening to quick footsteps coming their way. They held their breaths, but quickly released them when they saw Rick rounding their car, firing off another shot in the air.

Willow laid her head back against the side of the car with shut eyes, relief crashing over her like waves. "Jesus, Rick."

Carl shoved himself away from the car and hurried to his father's side, the look on his face no less than pleased.

"We were supposed to meet at the intersection." Rick says, still staring in the direction the man scrambled off to. He took a quick glance at his son, realizing his face was written in anger. "I shot over his head. I just wanted him gone."