The Road House
Marissa stood behind the bar at The Road House stocking the shelves when she felt the ground underneath her feet rumble with a familiar vibration. She smiled and closed her eyes. She saw in her mind eye an all black Harley Davidson motorcycle with shiny silver chrome and the old fashioned handle bars. From the sound of the engine that person kept it in mint condition. She'd look outside, but Ellen wanted her to finish stocking before they opened for the evening. As if on cue, Ellen came out from the back to see what all the noise was about.
Ellen: "Sounds like the customers are all ready lining up outside."
Marissa: "I'd say so. Should we open the doors? I'm done here."
She wipes her hands on her apron and looks herself over in the mirror behind the bottles.
Ellen: "Yeah. I'm done in the back too. Let's let them in."
Marissa walks over to the door and unlocks the lock. She opens it and is greeted with a nice Spring breeze. She loved Georgia in the Spring time. She made a point in looking for the bike she heard and was dead on in the description. She knew her bikes and she knew her engines. She wondered where the owner had gotten to. There weren't very many places other then inside the bar he would've went. She didn't have time to think about that. She had work to do. So, she headed back in.
From the look of the bike, the owner had to be her type. A big burly man with muscles wearing dark sunglasses. More then likely, ripped jeans with black leather riding boots up to the knee. He probably had long hair tied back under an American Flag patterned bandanna and a white t-shirt with a wife beater under it. He probably had tattoos up and down both arms and spoke with a deep voice. He'd probably leave his helmet on the hook of his bike and dare someone to try to mess with it. He had to be an ass kicker. She didn't go for wimps and she didn't put up with the ignorant red neck thinking that a woman should be bare foot and pregnant taking care of her man. She had to know that her man was going to fight for her if she was ever in danger and she knew she'd have his back too. Most guys around those parts didn't like the fact that she was mouthy and independent.
She heard someone walk in and turned around. What she saw was nothing like what she was seeing in her imagination. The guy was carrying a leather jacket and hung it on the hook. He was tall and muscular, but lean. He had shaggy brown hair and took his sunglasses off and put them in his pocket. She was right about the jeans and boots. She was right about the t-shirt, but no visible ink on either arm and he was clean-cut. Maybe a little scruffy on the face like she liked, but clean cut. He was wearing a vest with white angle wings on the back of it. He smiled and nodded his head "hi" when he noticed a lady watching him. He sat down at the bar.
Marissa: "Hi. Welcome to the Road House. What can I get for you?"
Daryl: "A Jack on the rocks, please."
She smiled at his polite, sweet southern drawl and his bright blue eyes. She wanted to reach over and push his hair back out of his face with her fingers.
Marissa: "Coming right up."
She fixed his drink and handed it to him. It was pretty quiet so she saw no problem with having a little small talk with Daryl.
Marissa: "So honey, what brings you here?"
Daryl: "I'm just out for a drive, m'am. There's a lot of crazy stuff going on in Atlanta."
Marissa: "I love how polite you are, but you can call me Marissa."
Daryl: "I'm Daryl. Nice to meet you, Marissa. Nice place."
He shakes her hand politely.
Marissa: "Thank you. This is Ellen's place. She opened up this bar after she lost her daughter, Jo awhile back."
Daryl: "I've lost some people close to me too. The world just ain't what it used to be anymore."
Marissa: "Tell me about it. So, is Atlanta as bad as they say it is?"
Darly: "Depends. What have you heard?"
Marissa looks around and lowers her voice like she's telling Darly a secret. She slightly leans forward in her low cut top and Daryl looks straight down her shirt, but tries to be respectful by stirring the ice in his drink.
Marissa: "I heard there's Walking Dead over there. Right in the next town. I heard we all got lucky over here and it's only a matter of time before the walking dead come here."
She makes like she's wiping up the bar when Ellen comes out to check out how many customers are in the bar.
Ellen: "How's it going out here?"
Marissa: "Slow as usual."
He nods a polite "hello" at Ellen.
Ellen: "Hello sweetheart. I hope you weren't expecting a full house."
Daryl: "To be honest, I didn't expect there to be anything out this way. I'm just greatful there is a small piece of the normal world out here in this madness."
Ellen: "You're from Atlanta."
She looks at him like he's got some sort of disease and when he didn't seem to do anything out of the ordinary, she came closer to the bar where Marissa worked.
Daryl: "Yes m'am. Don't worry. I'm just as human as you two are. Those crazy bastards don't come up and sit at the bar and drink."
Ellen: "As much as I would love the patronage, I'm glad they don't. Those bastards took my Jo."
Daryl: "Yeah. I've had my share of run ins with heards of those bastards. It ain't pretty. Some times you can't go out by yourself with so many of them."
Ellen: "If there's so many dangerous heards of them in Atlanta, how the hell did you get out here without any of them freaks following you?"
He looks around the bar and sees there are no other people other then Marissa and Ellen. He lifts up his trusty crossbow.
Daryl: "I hold my own."
Ellen: "Where the hell are my manners? I'm Ellen."
Daryl: "I'm Daryl."
He shakes her hand politely. Ellen is looking at his crossbow with admiration.
Ellen: "I remember a time when Jo and I would go out with Sam and Dean and we'd hunt with stuff like that. I left that life right after Jo was taken. I've seen stuff that makes those Walking Dead freaks look like soft kittens."
Daryl: "You know how to use weapons and you run a roadhouse."
Ellen: "Yeah. It's what I like to do."
Daryl finishes up his drink.
Daryl: "I really don't like the idea of you ladies out here all by yourself with those freaks miles away. What if something happens to you guys?"
Marissa: "You're not the only one who's got a friend."
She lifts her own crossbow from behind the counter.
Ellen: "Or two."
She pulls out a shot gun and a huge knife.
Daryl: "If you ever see one of those freaks, don't use that gun unless it's an extreme emergancy. The loud noise brings mobs of them down on you in seconds flat. Aim for the head. You have to kill the brain or they just come back missing parts and the ones you do take down, burn the remains. The smell attracts them thinking everything is dead around them."
Ellen: "You really know your way around these freaks."
Daryl: "Been doin it for quite some time now, m'am. It's been a real pleasure meeting you both. I've got to get back."
Marissa: "Don't be a stranger, Daryl. We may need your help."
Daryl: "Oh I won't. I've got friends back in Atlanta who are willing to help me out if you need back up one day."
Ellen: "How are we going to get a hold of you? There's not exactly a one way cell phone line anymore."
Marissa pulls out a metal suitcase. It looks like something someone from the military would hall around and opens it up.
Marissa: "We have these."
She takes out three satalite phones.
Daryl: "Honey there's no way those things work. Satalite service has been gone for some time now."
Marissa: "They work. It's solar power. The only way they won't work is if they are extreamly water logged or broken and these things could literally handle a war. So, I'd say we're safe. I just don't want to part with them."
Daryl: "I only need one. The other two are for you ladies. If there is trouble and you need someone to help fight, just call up or however it works."
Marissa: "It works like this."
She shows him how to work the buttons on the phone. It's not exactly your traditional dial a number and talk type. It operates on the one thing Georgia's always got plenty of. Heat and humidity. The moisture kept the battery charged and the heat transmitted a signal.