Ferris-Wheel Blues

I don't even know where this idea even came from. I just suddenly felt compelled to write this for some strange reason. If you like it, please let me know otherwise I may not even continue this piece or frequent it like my other fics. I had to get this idea out otherwise I wouldn't be able to finish my other fics currently running now. It was a bunch of head noise I needed to get out. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it.

Chapter 1

He stepped out onto the rickety old porch, boards creaking and wailing beneath his bare feet as he moved to its edge. He brought a calloused hand to his brow shielding the harsh glare of the setting sun from his eyes, squinting at the openness of the grassy fields. His upper lip curled as he glanced over the plains, sounds of birds and the chittering of grasshoppers causing enough of a ruckus that he had reluctantly gotten up from his midday nap.

Daryl rubbed the sleep from out of his eyes with the heel of his hand as he adjusted the cup of lukewarm coffee in his free hand taking care not to spill. He let out a low groan as he went to stretch his lithe body up and back, both arms outstretched, his cup still clasped tight in hand. A yawn escaped his lips as he continued to arch up; the succinct popping sound of his cracking back seemed to drown out the background noise of the wilderness expanse. He felt his wife-beater rising up his stomach to reveal a gnarled scar that slithered across his navel, quickly making for the hem to pull it down if someone happened to walk by.

The door behind him was suddenly thrust open accompanied by a lot of garbled shouting. A large burly man shoved past him, making his coffee splash out of the mug and down his hand, droplets pelting his head and face. Daryl let out a huff and set the mug on the rail of the porch, wiping his wet hands on his ratty-holed jeans to dry them. The man whirled on him angrily clipping the walkie-talkie he had just been shouting into back on his thick leather belt with the huge round silver buckle The man's balding ponytail whipped around his face like some sort of flimsy headband. The tinge of red from anger and high blood-pressure starting to creep up from his neck and into his cheeks.

"Dammit Dixon! Watch where yer standin', ya fuckin' moron. Googly eying that damned sunset like some pussy-whipped bitch when ya should be out settin' them rides up like yer 'posed to." Snapped the man.

He got close to his face, the faint stench of liquor permeating off the man as he thumped a meaty finger against Daryl's chest.

"Useless sack o' shit. Don't even know why I still keep ya 'round." He poked harder into the younger man's chest with his garish-ringed finger. Daryl had to dig his nails into his clenched fists to keep himself from sucker-punching the asshole in front of him. "Git on with yer fuckin' duties 'fore I knock them teeth inta the backa yer head."

Daryl bit his bottom lip doing his best to withhold his swelling temper, more specifically to hold his tongue. He had to shut his eyes and let out a strained sigh before he finally grumbled out a "yessir" in response to Jackson's demands. The man seemed to bark at him like he were some fucking mindless drone; some half-minded inbred that had been left out in the sun too long. He hated that. Even if it was just words, they still bothered him. Daryl took a step back cocking his head at the fat man and threw open the screen door into the run-down shack leaving his half-drunk coffee on the rail. He padded down the narrow hallway, bumping along boxes and crates, squeezing past to the small closet-bedroom he would be stuck in for the next few weeks at the end of the hall.

His eyes glanced about the room, hovering over a few torn-up old movie posters that had yellowed at the corners from the brazen sun, wrinkles in the once smooth glossy paper. The smell of cigarettes and dust was thick in the air. Hell, it was like that throughout the entire shack. It hadn't always been that way. At least not initially. When Daryl had first stepped foot into his temporary home a few days ago, the air had been filled with a woody, earthy scent that reminded him of the woods he grew up in back in Georgia. He was silently reminded of home and it made him wish he was more verbal about his place in the carnival troupe. Fuck staying in the hell-hole of a shack, he'd rough it out with the other carnival hands or out among the stars and wilderness if necessary. Jackson wouldn't allow it though. Daryl was always kept close enough to be within arm's reach no matter what. At any cost.

Daryl clicked his tongue against his teeth unamused by the form of "favoritism" he seemed to attract because of his connection with Jackson. It had never made things easy for him. He was fine with that. He had fought most of his life and it would continue that way no matter what. He kicked open his trunk of clothes at the foot of the lopsided cot and pawed through the garments until he found his faded red work-shirt. He stuck his arms through the sleeves and began buttoning it up. Daryl's mind wandered as he worked his fingers up the shirt. He wondered had he not been thrust into this life, if he would have done something different with his time. Rather than spending the next decade of his life as a mechanical engineer for a lack-luster traveling carnival, could he have been doing something better? He felt his lips tug into a scowl knowing the answer to his own question. What would it matter? He was a worthless piece of shit and wouldn't amount to anything. He'd be stuck doing the same shit for the rest of his days; forget if he ever got around to paying off the debt, that would never happen. He buttoned the last button before reaching back into his trunk and finding a pack of cigarettes tucked away with a box of matches. He would need those later.

He could tell it was gonna be one of those nights. It was already in the makings of one of those nights and he would best prepare for it with his smokes and a match. He let out a sigh before shoving his boots onto his feet and left making his way towards the end of the field where the booths and rides were being set up for the nights' affairs.

-/-/-

Loud. The night was loud and full of so much noise, Daryl found it impossible to think. There were so many kids running around and screaming their little lungs out, babies wailing and the rowdily drunk men shouting at one another or the carnival attendants. This shit was getting on his nerves too fast and he wasn't prepared to be out with so much of the bottom dredges of the public. There were so many people all bustling about the booths, their corn-dogs in hand mustard and ketchup smeared down their fronts with a small child being drug along in the other. The sight made him disgusted with the general population. These carnivals tended bring out all the bottom-feeders from out of the wet-works it seemed.

Tonight was different. There were TOO many people here. That never happened opening night in a small town like this. It seemed like the entire town had come to congregate at the heart of the fairgrounds like a sort of hive-mind. The noise had been steadily testing his patience, till that last straw when he heard several children screaming bloody-murder and he could handle no more with the shouting and crying. Daryl hustled behind the booth tents where only the clerks and carnival hands had access to. He needed to get away as quickly as possible from all this head noise. It wasn't like he would be missed anyhow if he just ducked out for a short time. And it was like they wouldn't be able to find him neither, every bastard that was worth something had a walkie dangling from their hip. Every poor bastard, including himself.

Daryl made longer strides trying to quicken his pace as he hopped over a tangle of cables and stumbled out of the way of another encroaching attendant who moved into his path. He felt himself fall back against a rail, tripping over his feet and knew he had made it to his destination, his back slamming against the cool metal. He was at the outskirts of the carnival where the noise couldn't strangle his ears and the obnoxious fair-goers couldn't bother him with absurd questions as if he were an attendant. He let out a sigh in respite as he climbed up onto the rail, boots hooking below the bottom rung to keep his balance.

He removed the cigarette that had been tucked above his ear most of the night, popping it into his mouth. Daryl had fought back the urge to tuck tail and run so he could smoke in peace, but after finding himself stuck with a wrench in the engine of the broken down "zipper" ride, the noise suddenly became too much for him to comfortably deal with. No sooner had he shoved his wrench and Phillips screwdriver into his belted tool satchel, Daryl was out of sight. He finished the job and immediately set off in search of quiet solace. He struck a match against the rail, bringing the tiny flickering flame to the tip of his cigarette. He breathed it to life and took a long generous drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs and out through his nostrils, exhaling in a calm sigh. Daryl knocked the ashes off the tip as he enjoyed the comfortable silence; the soft roar of the crowds in the distance barely audible, chirping of crickets easing his befuddled mind.

He enjoyed nights like these where he could sneak away and just sit by himself with a smooth cigarette tucked away for safe keeping. The dull buzzing of a mosquito flirted with his neck, dipping in close to leave its toxic kiss upon weathered-exposed skin. He swatted the bug with a firm slap, killing it and nonchalantly picking the dead body off his hand as if that was how it had always been.

"Asshole." He muttered under his breath, wiping the guts on the thigh of his pants.

A loud crackle broke the gentle silence, reminding Daryl that he wasn't free of the bullshit he had just left. A garbled voice barked from the speaker of the walkie demanding a mechanic. Jackson was looking for him... Again.

"Dixon, the fuck're you? Yer stupid ass is needed at the Ferris Wheel. Shit just broke for the third time tanight. Now git on it 'fore I drag yer ass to it." The voice snarled loud so everyone with a walkie could hear it.

Daryl let out the stream of smoke he had held and snubbed the last bit of his cigarette out. He huffed at being called out like that but shrugged it off. It wasn't like this was anything new in his life. He unhooked the walkie from his pocket and groused, "Be there ASAP."

He clipped the infernal black box to his belt making his way back to the heart of the fairgrounds. Of course, the ferris wheel being the star attraction had to be in the middle of the fucking park where everyone seemed to congregate. It was like a beacon that spoke out to the simpletons that harkened for their twenty-dollar ticket stubs to be wasted on a ride that did nothing but reveal a night view and turned ever so gently. He didn't understand the appeal of the ride. It was boring and broke down most nights.

Jackson always called on Daryl to fix the stupid thing at least once each night. He had grown so accustomed to the engine of the ferris wheel, that it became a sick-cycle love affair. He would leave to take care of the engine of another ride that had just died and no sooner had he ducked down into the hood of the broken machine, the ferris wheel would call him back to mend its broken heart. It was his jealous lover and Daryl hated the damned machine. The ferris wheel was a mock interpretation of his life and how it had always been it seemed. Just when Daryl thought he would be able to break things off, when everything seemed like they were all fixed, things combusted and fell apart and he was stuck yet again with another sliver of hope yanked from his hands.

Daryl finally came to the base of the ferris wheel, its bright lights illuminating the area so everyone could see him and he could see them. He hated how effulgent the damned thing was. Its lights never ceased to dim nor burn out it seemed. Frankly, he wished the fucking wheel would just topple over and he could be done with the damned thing. He couldn't even count the several times he had smashed his finger with a hammer, dropped a wrench on his face from beneath its carriage or been squirted in the face from its oil on his hands and toes. It was just a bad-news ride for him through and through. The only reason the fucking ride was kept continuously carnival after carnival, was because Daryl knew exactly how it worked. Every mechanism and every pulley inside the engine he could make sing like a symphony opera singer with no more than just a few minutes of tinkering away with undivided attention. If he could make it do a back-flip and recite the first verse of "Freebird", he was sure he could do it.

Daryl chuckled a bit to himself as he made his way towards the back-end of the ride. There it was. The heart of the ferris wheel. It was encased in a metal slating; its chipped blue paint weathered from the many harsh suns it had sat under since '79. He patted the hood before plucking a set of keys from his hip, undoing the lock and setting it on the key-ring. He threw up the hood as a cloud of steam flooded the area. Immediately Daryl backed away before the steam went past his face knowing all too well what happened with a face full of steam. He shifted his weight back and forth from his left to his right foot as the steam dissipated and he was clear to begin work on the engine. His first encounter with the ferris wheel had given him quite the trouble. It was almost exactly the same scenario save for the fact that it had been his first time trying to deal with the obnoxious sonovabitch.

The pressure valves all seemed to be in good working order. Never a good sign. Always meant something was wrong that he couldn't visually see. He stooped low removing a panel underneath the engine, pulling himself under the carriage to take a look. It was the smell of burnt flesh and singed fur that initially had him scrambling out from under the engine. Daryl crawled to his hands and knees, trying not to heave from the wretched stink of death that had slapped him hard from under the engine carriage.

"Is that fuckin' engine fixed yet Dixon?" Crackled the walkie-talkie from Daryl's hip. He gulped down the need to heave, massaging the base of his throat to ease himself from that driving notion to purge. He fell back sitting on his legs and quickly retorted into the walkie, "Yeah, almost got it. Smells like a couple o' cats- maybe possums got caught in the gears. Have 'em out in a bit."

"Hurry the hell up! I'm gettin' complaints 'bout it not bein' up, Dixon! And you know what that means? Money we ain't makin' so make it quick or you ain't gettin' paid neither!" Jackson snapped and the walkie went dead with a static buzz.

"Fuckin' asshole- like ta see him fuckin' crawl his slitherin' fat-ass under this piece of shit and do it himself," Daryl grumbled to himself as he yanked the rag from his back pocket and wrapped it around his nose and mouth. He would be better prepared this way to remove the dead things from out of the gears without getting himself sick inhaling the putrid fumes of death. It wasn't often that wild animals got caught in the gears of the machines, but it did happen and it was almost always the most disgusting thing to clean up he had found out.

Daryl spent another few minutes extracting the dead bodies out from under the carriage, grimacing the entire time at the mess of bones and gore that sat piled near his legs. Almost no fur could be salvaged nor was there any that made the animals any more distinguishable. Their small skulls were crushed to broken splinters and sinewy muscle ground into a mush. He felt bad for the poor bastards that had climbed up into the gears hoping for a warm place to sleep for the night only to find themselves ground up to nothing but a wad of meat and bone shards.

Finally wriggling out from beneath the engine, he replaced the bottom panel and made his way over to connect the power cables to the power generator. Daryl flipped the switch of the engine and it gently purred to life. He felt himself smirking at having accomplished his mission for the night. He tugged the hood down and patted it again before locking the doors up and walking away.

A small cough stole him from his moment of triumph and he had to double-take to make sure he heard right. Daryl looked around before spying a small girl sitting behind one of the booths nearest the ferris wheel, her bright blue eyes finding his and holding steady on him. She clutched tighter onto the stuffed animal that she had won at one of the booths, curling more into herself making attempts to shrink away from the strange man. He froze not really sure what to do or how to approach the child who was obviously afraid of him just as much as he was of her. Daryl looked away and pretended to fiddle with his belted tool-bag, moving the wrench and screwdrivers around creating a symphony of clanging. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the girl's blonde hair was pulled back in a headband hanging limply above her shoulders and again her eyes somehow found his. There was a certain fear in her eyes that he knew all too well himself. It wasn't just the fear of being separated from a parental figure; this was something deeper that he had felt himself before.

A voice crackled out of the walkie-talkie at his hip breaking his train of thought forcing him to focus on the information being spewed out. "There's a report of a missing child on the fairgrounds. Blonde-hair. Blue-eyes. Female." Daryl's eyes trained on the girl and made a mental check-list ticking off all the details being listed that the girl had. "Her name is Sophia. She will be wearing a white-striped shirt with a bright red headband in her hair. If you find this child report to the front of the fairgrounds. The mother will be waiting for you there. If you saw this child leave with someone please let us know so the authorities can be notified."

She was the missing child that they were looking for. Daryl let out a low growl at his dumbassed luck. If it wasn't one thing it was another and he sure as fuck knew he wasn't fond of kids or sure on how to exactly deal with them. Yeah, tonight was one of those nights.

A/N: I'd like to say that I don't know shit about engines and tried researching the ferris wheel, but that bastard is hard to get meaty information on... so /shrug if it's wrong. It can't be helped. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it! Don't forget to review!