Find Your Purpose, Before It's Too Late

Chapter 5

The map was open in front of you, your eyes scanning the coordinates for the area where the industrial park was.

"Here," you said, pointing out the little red dot on the map to Daryl. "Looks like we can head up 22. If the highway is clear, we may have a chance to get there and back in one day."

Daryl looked at you and nodded, "That would be a very good thing."

"Yeah, especially since I left my pack at the house," you said shaking your head.

Daryl snorted a laugh. "Well, good for you that I come prepared I guess," he motioned to the back seat where you saw the extra backpack and rifle laying across the seat.

"Guess we're even now," you managed to smile at him. "I saved your ass yesterday, and you save mine today."

"We ain't even," Daryl said, now offering a playful smirk, "day ain't over yet girl. Let's see who owes who by the end of the day."

You couldn't help but find his current demeanor amusing. Since you got into the car with him, any of the shame you felt about breaking down the night before was fading. It was like being around a completely different person than you had known all this time.

Daryl navigated the car per your directions and wound up on a clear highway. Route 22 stretched out before you as far as the eye could see. For twenty miles you had a straight shot, barely passing any cars or walkers along the way. Feeling the car slow down, you looked over to Daryl who wore a look of frustration.

"Damn gas ran out," he growled and threw the car in park. "I got some more in the trunk. Why don't you take the rifle and head up to the car up yonder; check the tank."

"Okay," you said calmly, yet you felt anything but. Getting out of the car, you retrieved the rifle and slowly approached the car. Every few steps you would turn to check on Daryl, as well as your perimeter for any signs of hostility.

Off in the distance you heard a lone crow's cry and looked around anxiously. Other than the slight breeze rattling through the trees and asphalt crunching under your feet, it was completely silent.

As the car came into your view, you saw the passenger door was wide open and a trail of blood and guts emptied onto the shoulder and down the grassy embankment. Looking back at Daryl, you saw he was placing the gas can back in the trunk and getting back in the car. You waited until you saw him driving towards you before getting any closer. With your attention at full tilt, you found yourself slipping into survival mode.

Just like your father had taught you and your brother – eyes up, ears open, finger steady – your gun was raised, finger near but not on the trigger, and took slow, even breaths. Narrowing your focus back to the car, you approached it with caution. When there was no movement inside, so you opened the driver's side door and found the gas release lever.

By the time you had it open and was checking the levels, Daryl had joined you, leaving your ride idling on the highway.

"Anything?" he asked.

"No, not really."

"Damn. Can's kicked. We'll have to look as we go to refuel but it should hopefully get us back." Daryl noticed you staring at the car. "What? Somethin' wong?"

"I don't know," you motioned to the door being open, "there's fresh blood here. The car itself doesn't have a speck of dust. I don't know... something feels..."

The click of a revolver sounded in your ear and you felt the pressure of cold steel to the back of your head. Afraid to move, your eyes shifted to Daryl and saw he was in a similar predicament.