CTA

Bending down, using Daryl for support, Farrell picked up his roll, knotting the end of it and looping it over his shoulder before draping an arm over Daryl’s shoulder.

Daryl looked up toward the abutment where Dwight was sleeping, but figured he wouldn’t disturb the kid. Coming back with a six pack would be his way of saying thanks for all the lad had done.

Over the uneven terrain progress was slow, taking closer to an hour before, “Here we are,” announced Farrell, pointing at a seemingly innocuous pile of rubble and a couple of smaller battered c-can cargo containers off to the side.

Daryl shook his head, “I don’t get it,” he said, putting his hand on Farrell’s chest to steadying him.

“Look inside, there on the floor,” Farrell said, motioning with his head toward one of the containers.

It was dark inside the c-can, but Daryl could see the outline of what resembled several beer boxes stacked up at the back of the container.

“There’s the brew as promised, I offered a six, mind you,” Farrell said nodding.

“You said cold,” Daryl reminded.

Farrell grinned, “I do have cold ones, don’t get me wrong, you helped me and all and you seem like a likeable enough guy, but I can’t take you to my hideout just in the off chance you’re not what you seem to be,” he admitted. “There are six in there, they’re not cold, but they’re wet and they’re yours, just as we agreed.”

Daryl nodded, in this brutal new reality caution seemed to rule the day. Stepping in container and walking the ten feet to the where the boxes were. Bending down, he started looking for the six pack when a barred grate slammed down and clicked into place covering the entrance.

“What the fuck?” Daryl said, looking back and spreading his hands. It was a trap.

Farrell shook his head, “Sorry brother, it’s every man for himself out here,” he said.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Daryl asked, walking to the bars and grabbing them.

Farrell shrugged and took a couple of steps back, spreading his hands, sly grin on his face, no limp.

“You’re not even hurt?” Daryl inquired, shaking his head and chuckling nervously.

“Nope,” Farrell said, moving a little closer, but still just out of Daryl’s arms reach.

“What are you doing?” Daryl asked, eyes narrowing as he tested the bars. They were solid, unyielding.

“Well, it’s kind of like this, I bring her treats and put them in here and in return she gives me stuff,” he answered, “like beer or food.”

“No, no, dude this is fucked up man. You’re going to just give me to one of those chicks?” Daryl said, wrapping his head around the situation.

Farrell nodded. “Nothing personal,” he said, grinning.

“Open the cage man,” Daryl said tilting his head slightly to the side, tone serious.

“No can do, even if I wanted to,” replied the captor.

“You know what they do to us? Those giant fucking broads?” Daryl said, voice taking on an air of desperation.

Farrell nodded slowly, “Yeah,” he said, “but what can you do? It’s an ‘eat or be eaten’ kind of world out there right now my friend. CTA,” he said.

“CTA?” Daryl said, trying to calm his rising panic.

“Can’t trust anyone,” he replied. “If it’s any kind of consolation, the one that comes to make the swap is pretty damn sexy,” he said, waving the fingers of his left hand and giving out a low whistle. “Blonde hair, big blue eyes, massive cones,” he added, cupping his hand in front of his chest.

“You talked to her? Set this man trap up?”

“Fuck no. Trying to talk to one of them is a death sentence pure and simple,” he replied.

“Then how? How did you get into this arrangement?” Daryl asked.

“I don’t know who originally set up this little trap line here, sort of stumbled into it by accident, well my partner at the time did. He stepped in, I saw the lever and pulled it, clang, bars came down, he was stuck in the cage. I didn’t have a clue how to open it though I think it’s a pressure switch on top of the box but I’m not strong enough to trigger it. Anyway, I’m trying to figure out how to get Fred out this box and I see one of the giant women coming, so I do the smart thing, you know, run and hide. She comes and takes the whole box. There was nothing I could do. She made off with the box and returned a short time later with it, except Fred was gone and the lever had been reset. She also has the other box and inside it is some food and beer and such, and I’m thinking it’s kind of like a reward or trade for Fred. So I test the theory out and lure another fellow into the box, pretty much like I just did with you. He’s locked in good and tight. Like before, I go and hide. The lady shows up, checks the box and same as before, she brings back an empty box and leaves me some goodies. That’s how. I don’t even know her name. It’s a pretty good deal though,” he said, nodding.

“For you! It’s a fucked deal for me. I just tried to help you,” Daryl said, tone leaning toward pleading.

“Sorry,” he said, “Nothing I can do now. I’ll be sure to tip a cold one in your honor though,” he added.

“This is like a goddamn mousetrap,” Daryl said, shaking his head as he circled the interior of the box.

 “It is pretty clever when you think about it,” Farrell said.

“What you’re doing is plain wrong,” Daryl indicted, grabbing hold of the bars.

“Please, if you were in my place you would do the exact same thing,” he said. “The longer you’re here, when your guts are knotted in on themselves and you’re thinking you might eat your own arm, the vaguer that little line between right and wrong gets,” he explained. “Condemn me, revile me, I don’t care. Your sacrifice means I get to eat, I get to drink another day.”

“I hope you get swallowed alive man, I hope you get to feel the agonizing sensation of your skin melting off your flesh as one of the giant cunts turns you into her shit!” Daryl hissed rancorously, spittle flying out of his mouth.

“Don’t know, I could very well check out that way, so could you. But for me at least, it won’t be today,” he said, touching his right index finger to his right temple.