Here We Are, Come Join Us (The Walking Dead FanFiction)

Chapter 3

Allison and Daryl had ridden in silence for about 20 minutes before he finally spoke.

"So you're a doctor and you're afraid to ride with Jim 'cause he got bit? Do you know something about this sickness that the rest of us don't?"

"No, no, not at all. It's just...." She sighed. "He's in pain and he's not going to get any better. It probably would've been more humane to .... do what you said back at camp."

"I thought doctors were used to seeing people in pain."

"We are, but that doesn't mean it still doesn't make us uncomfortable. Besides, in a traditional setting, we'd have painkillers and other palliative care to treat his symptoms, take the edge off of his pain."

"You think it's a lost cause, hopin' for a cure for Jim at the CDC," Daryl stated with a touch of questioning in his voice.

"Again, I know as much about this disease as you do, but to my mind any 'cure' would have to come as immediately as possible after a bite, just like a rabies shot. At the progress we're making, by the time we get to the CDC the infection will have had hours to invade and infect him."

"So what the hell are we all goin' there for?" Daryl asked, as if confirming in his own mind that this trek was a waste of time and gasoline.

"I dunno," Allison admitted. "Maybe they'll at least offer shelter or tell us where we can find shelter..."

"I gotta tell ya, this conversation is depressing the hell outta me. I think I liked it better when you were quiet."

"I can be quiet, if that's what you want, or you can choose a new topic of discussion. Whatever."

"OK, new topic – how come a fancy-ass rich girl like you knows how to hunt? Was that your daddy's idea of slummin', or did he teach you at his country club?"

Allison regarded him with surprise. "What makes you think I'm rich? Or ever was?"

Daryl snorted with sarcastic laughter. "Even us backwoods hicks know that it costs money to go to Duke."

"Unless you get an academic scholarship," Allison amended. "For your information, I grew up in a small house in Toccoa, on a couple of acres of land that my daddy inherited from his daddy. He worked for the local power company, stringing electrical lines and fixing traffic lights. Not exactly life in the fast lane. I studied hard, darned hard, to make grades and get a scholarship. Wasn't gonna get to college any other way, I knew that from when I was a kid."

"How come you say 'darned' instead of 'damned'?" Daryl asked. Of all the information she had just revealed, he'd latched onto that one word? He just wasn't paying attention, Allison decided.

"I never cuss. My granny used to smack me upside the head any time I used foul language, as she called it. So I just never picked up the habit...I guess in the back of my mind I can feel that big ol' wooden spoon of hers whacking me if I so much as think of a bad word."

"Your grandma lived with you?"

"Actually, I lived with her. And my grandpa. My parents were killed in a car accident when I was 11 – big pileup on the 441. I didn't have any other close relatives, so they took me in."

"Oh." He was silent for a few minutes. "Must've been tough," he finally said.

Allison shrugged and then busied herself with a hangnail that was suddenly bothering her. "It wasn't so bad...Granddad was a sweet old man, and I felt sorry for him sometimes. Granny could be mean. He used to take me fishing, which I didn't like so much, but he enjoyed it so I went along. He got sick later with cancer, and I'd take care of him as best I could which is probably what first got me interested in medicine."

"Your grandma didn't help care for him?"

"Her idea of caring was reading Bible verses to him and telling him that if he hadn't sinned he wouldn't be sick. Anyway, I'm sure my life story is boring you, let's do another New Topic. Umm... tell me about when you were a kid."

"New Topic," Daryl replied, staring straight ahead.

"Ohhkay," Allison drawled, realizing that she'd apparently hit a nerve. She scanned her mind for a neutral topic. "Have you ever heard of Fred Bear?"

"Of course, everyone knows Fred Bear."

"Everyone who bow hunts, you mean," Allison smiled, happy to have found something that piqued the redneck's interest. "I went to the Fred Bear Museum up in Michigan when I was a kid. We were visiting relatives up near Grayling and my uncle took us there. I remember Daddy was just fascinated. He was always going to teach me to bow hunt...." Her voice trailed off. "I did get as far as some longbow target shooting."

"Longbow's a pain in the ass – er, butt, when it comes to huntin'. Need fuckin' – um, freakin' arm guards and shi—stuff. Crossbow's closer to a gun, especially for short-range shootin'. You just pull the trigger."

Allison tried to conceal her smile at Daryl's sudden obvious attempt not to swear in front of her. She was almost tempted to describe it as "cute" before she remembered that this was the man who had carried a severed hand with him. OK, maybe he wasn't cute, but deep down inside of that rugged, red-necked exterior there were traces of good ol' Southern gentility. A man who had picked up on one subtle conversation cue and then hastily attempted to temper his vocabulary so as not to offend her, even during the Zombie Apocalypse, The End of the World, couldn't be all bad.