A Redneck's Wicked Game (A Daryl Dixon Story)

Gittin' Closer to Leavin'

Chapter 46—Gittin' Closer to Leavin'

3 days later

Rowan's POV

It's barely Dawn when we pack up the pick-up truck and head out. The truck we took from Eagle Mountain is an extended cab, so we can easily fit everyone inside. Daryl's driving, I'm in the middle and Abraham is up front with us. Trey, Glenn and Michonne are in the back. We have more than enough muscle and mechanic knowledge to make this run go smoothly. We have gas, an extra battery and tools in the bed of the truck. Hopefully we'll find a running bus and won't spend too much time trying to get something to run.

I shift my hips a little, trying to get comfortable since I'm squeezed in between the two men. Daryl glances over at me, "Ya got enough room Rowan?" I nod as I shift a little more, "Yeah, just trying not to be all up in yer shit." He nods, "Don't worry 'bout it, if ya need to git closer than do so." I shrug and stop fidgeting. Abraham looks over, "What's really bugging you Rowan? You're twitching like you got ants in your britches." I shrug and remain quiet, very aware of the two men looking at me. Daryl sighs, "No use Abe, she ain't talking." Abraham looks over at me and shakes his head, "It don't take a rocket scientist to see her damn Spidey Sense is tingling. If she's got a bad feeling about this run, we need to be alert; she ain't been wrong yet." Daryl grunts in agreement and I hear Glenn whisper to Michonne. I sigh and keep my eyes straight ahead, focusing on the road in front of us. I'm not going to tell them what my problem really is.

We follow Trey's directions and head away from the Mill and Hubbardsville. The bus yard we're going to is closer to the Walmart we scavenged when we first came up here. It takes us about an hour to get to the turnoff to the bus yard, mostly because we stopped a couple of times to siphon gas from some cars on the side of the road. Trey gestures to the left and Daryl turns the truck down the side road, following the signs marked "Dawson County School Bus Yard". The road is paved but it's rough; potholes and divots littering the worn asphalt. The truck bounces around a bit as we drive towards the gate of the bus yard. I sit up straighter as we approach the closed gate and Daryl slows down the pick-up truck. He brings the truck to a complete stop, about 8 foot from the gate and we all look around. Abraham opens the passenger's door and gets out so he can open the gate. Trey also exits the truck, watching Abraham's back. Daryl shifts the truck into drive, inching closer as Abraham slides the gate open. We drive the truck inside, stopping to wait for Abraham and Trey to close the gate behind us and get back into the pick-up truck.

Trey directs us to the rear of the property and the large pole barn. This is the garage where they work on the buses. Trey thinks if we can find the paperwork on what has been worked on and inspected, it will make it easier to find a reliable bus. I think he's right but I don't want to waste too much time looking through paperwork; the longer we're gone the more likely something could happen. Daryl pulls up to the garage and parks the truck. I watch him turn off the engine and put the keys in the visor. Everyone exits the truck and soon we're standing in front of the shop door. Daryl pulls his Bowie knife out and bangs on the door, waiting for the shuffling sounds of Walkers. I take my hunting knife out of the sheath on my hip and even out my breathing as I get ready. I glance back to the others and they are ready to go.

Daryl nods to us as he hears Walkers inside and my muscles tense up. I watch Daryl hold up three fingers and start counting down as he reaches for the doorknob. I nod as he gets to one and pulls the door open. Two Walkers stumble out through the doorway and I immediately engage the first one through the door, my heart racing. Abraham and Trey breech the entryway, while Daryl and I take care of the Walkers. Michonne and Glenn follow Trey and Abraham inside once they see Daryl and I have everything handled.