Author's Note: Hello, everyone! It's been a while, but I'm back! I really hope you guys enjoy this.
Warning: There is some animal violence in this chapter, just be aware. It's nothing too graphic, but it is there.
Merle was sixteen the day he snagged Jerry Thompson's hat clean off his head and took off running. It was hot that summer. Too miserable to do anything. Whole damn neighborhood had been hiding inside their houses, nice and comfy in their chilled air. They didn't have air conditioning in the Dixon house. Never had.
Mama used to walk around the kitchen in her slip on days like this. She'd open all the windows and clip her hair up on her head. And she'd pace in there, fanning herself with an old church bulletin. Cigarette smoldering in her free hand. Daryl would sit at her feet sometimes. He liked to be close to her. But Mama wasn't in the kitchen today.
Mama was dead.
Their old man had gotten more ornery since she died. Without a wife to knock around, he'd taken to showing Merle a good come-to-Jesus meeting when the mood struck him. It helped to stay clear of him. Just as hot inside as it was out, anyway.
He and Daryl were on the porch when Jerry and his daddy rolled up in that shiny new Ford F100 Highboy. "The V8 gas mileage champ," or so they said on the radio. The sunlight glinted off that white baseball cap, and Merle was on his feet before he could second guess himself.
All summer long that little shit had been bragging about his hat. The one he got when his mama and daddy sent him off to summer camp. With the fancy blue embroidery thread stitched on it. We serve God by serving you. He'd passed it around proudly that first day back home, let all the kids take a turn trying it on. Everyone but Daryl.
"Watch this," he said.
Jerry never saw him coming. He was halfway across the yard again before the kid and his daddy took off after him. He sprinted to the porch, snatched up Daryl's hand.
"C'mon, little brother!
Trees blurred around him as he ran. He still heard the gunshots. Smelled the smoke. Beth was behind him somewhere. Had followed him through the hole in the fence with the baby. Away from the fire.
The Governor had come knocking. And he'd brought hell with him.
"This way!"
He jerked Daryl toward the woods. At six, his little legs would only take him so far, and Merle more carried him than anything. Even dragging him along, they disappeared into the brush before Jerry rounded the house.
"Where are we going?" Daryl asked. The question trailed off into a laugh, and Merle realized then he was laughing, too.
Sweat rolled down his forehead, into his eyes. He wiped it away with the back of his arm. He dodged around a low hanging branch, took a left at the old white oak with the big, tangled roots.
Daryl tripped on one of them. Almost sent them both tumbling down with the force of it. Merle jerked him back up, hardly lost a step. Their laughter grew louder as he fell into the drop of the hillside. They came skidding to a stop at the edge of the creek, easy as sliding into home.
"Gimme back my hat, Dixon!"
Jerry stood at the top of the hill, red-faced and seething.
Merle quirked his lip into a smirk. Held up the hat for him to see.
"Have Jesus come get it for ya!"
He reared back, and flung it right into the creek.
"Wait!"
He whipped his head around. Slowed as Beth struggled to catch up, baby hugged tight to her chest. She lost her footing and tripped. Pitched forward. He caught her by the elbow. Dragged her along.
He brought them to a stop in a small clearing, where the air smelled of soil and pine. As he turned to her, she curled in on herself, around the baby. She started making these choked noises that collapsed into sobs.
"C'mon, girl, get a grip!" He squeezed her arm harder, gave her a shake for good measure. The baby started to cry, too. "We ain't got time for this shit now."
She looked up at him, then. Her face was all puffy and red. A spot at her hairline was bleeding, where one of the Governor's men had grabbed her and torn out a chunk. Her eyes locked on him, really focused.
"You killed a man," she said.
"What? The asshole ripping out your hair?" he snorted. "I did ya a favor's what I did."
Merle let her go and reached in his waistband for the pistol. He checked the clip, counted twelve rounds. Shit.
He'd warned them all. Told them there was no reasoning with the psychopath. Told them the whole thing stank. And then he watched his baby brother lead the way out of the prison gates on his bike. Off to sign some peace treaty with Hershel and Officer Friendly. If Blondie's brain was as big as her tits, she'd have known it was all for fucking show.
"Is it - -" She cut herself off, like she'd thought better of it. "What are we going to do now?"
"Fuck, I don't know!" He started to pace. Closed his eyes, pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. "We're up a goddamn shit creek without a paddle! Gimme a second to think!"
The kid's squalling hit a higher pitch, and he wheeled back around on them.
"Shut her up! Gonna bring every biter in fifty fucking miles down on us!"
"Quit yelling at me," she snapped, eyes suddenly dry. "Yelling doesn't solve anything!"
He took a step toward her and pulled himself to his full height.
"Yeah? Maybe we should hold hands and sing pretty little songs instead."
She stepped forward then, too. Jerked her chin up and looked him dead in the eye.
"She's hungry. She needs food. We need to find a grocery store or something."
He squinted, scanned the surrounding area in his head. She jumped when he thrust his pistol at her, all the bravado she'd put on gone. She fumbled with it, took too long to slot it into her hand just right. Held it all dainty and too cautious. She checked the safety and the slide. And the safety again. Then she paused for a second, like she was trying hard to remember all the rules, before she tucked it into the back of her pants.
"Don't fire that until ya have to," he said. "We can't afford to lose any ammo."
She nodded and set about quieting the kid. He found the sun, put it to his right shoulder and took off. He could hear her behind him, scrambling to catch up to his long strides. A low hanging branch blocked their path. He pulled it back, stepped aside to let her pass.
"After you, sweetheart."
She hesitated, shuffled her feet a bit before walking through.
"Where are we going?"
"There's a pharmacy just south of here. It ought to have something." He followed after her, pointed her in the right direction. "We'll hole up there for the night."
"And then?"
"Daryl's gonna come back to the prison. He'll catch our tracks, and he'll come."
She stopped, turned to look at him while she bounced the baby.
"Are you sure?"
He chuckled, stepped on ahead of her.
"Don't you worry, darlin'. Ain't nobody gonna leave you and that baby out in these woods to rot."
A twig snapped. Some animal scurried into a nearby bush.
"And they certainly ain't gonna leave you out here with me."
"Where's he going?"
Merle turned to look at Daryl. One of his pant legs was all dirty where they'd slid down the hill. His little shirt stuck to him from the sweat. He was grinning so big it damn near split his face.
"Off to whine to his daddy about his hat, I'd reckon." Merle dropped to sit, toed off his shoes. He started rolling his jeans up. "How 'bout I teach you to catch crawdads, huh?"
Daryl's grin got even bigger.
"Really? You said I's too little!"
"Changed my mind then, didn't I? Get your shoes off, now."
Merle stepped into the creek. The water was cool on his feet. Mud squished between his toes. He reached out to Daryl, lifted him in. The water came clear up to his knees.
"Now the trick is to grab him right behind his little claws. You don't want him trying to take your thumb off."
He hunkered down, started wading through the creek. One was hiding up in this spot where the creek bank hung over the water. He waved Daryl over and brought him in close.
"You gotta be quick about it. They're fast. Slick as snot on a doorknob, too. Look, here."
His hand darted into the water, grabbed it just behind the head. He jerked it up for Daryl to see. Caught between his thumb and forefinger, all failing legs and pincers.
"Wow," Daryl gasped, like he'd just witnessed a goddamn miracle.
"Now you try."
Beth stood in the middle of a dead end street. Mosquitoes buzzed around her. She swatted at one. Squashed it into a red stain on her arm. It matched the scratches, where the brush had cut at her. Judy fussed at the movement. Same as she'd been doing for over an hour.
"Stick close. Watch the biters. And for Christ's fucking sake, keep the kid quiet!"
She wasn't sure who was crankier – Judy or Merle.
Three walkers rounded the corner as they reached the end of the street. They went right for Merle, all gnashing teeth and greedy fingers. He met them halfway, started dispatching them so fluidly she had to stop and admire the sight. It reminded her of watching Maggie saddle Charlie, her favorite horse. The movements so natural, so familiar he didn't need to think. He'd duck out of the way of one, only to shove the blade of his prosthetic into another.
When the last of them fell, he turned to her. Blood had splattered all over his shirt, on his face. His knife was dripping a small puddle of it onto the road. He held is arms out wide. Grinned real big.
"Well, c'mon then."
He led them around the corner, down the overgrown sidewalk. A stray, white cat came creeping around one of the buildings. It's fur was all matted, ribs visible. It took one look at Merle and hissed, darted across the street into a turned over trash can.
"I know," she muttered softly.
The drugstore sat on the intersection of Lee and Pine. Just a tiny brick building. One window in the front next to a small, glass door. The roof had caved in on one side. The wooden sign hung sideways, where one of the chains had come loose. It swung back and forth in the breeze, creaking.
Merle motioned her around the side of the building. There was another window, smaller than the one in front. He wiped at the dust with his hand and pressed his nose to the glass.
"Dammit," he whispered. "Thought they might've cleared out by now."
Beth nudged him out of the way, pushed her own face into the glass. A couple walkers paced near a fallen shelf. Three more shuffled along near the pharmacy counter. One – so rotten now it couldn't really move – sat under the hole in the roof. The sun had dried out its skin, weathered it away until it resembled those mummies they used to show on television.
Another walker slammed into the window. Sent her jumping back with her heart in her throat.
"How are you gonna clear that by yourself?"
He scoffed at her, put a hand to his hip.
"You're a real team player, aren't ya?"
He rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, stalking back across the street. She made to go after him, but he held up his hand.
"No, no," he called. "You just stay right there, princess. Let the man do all the work."
He came back with the stray cat by the scruff of the neck, holding it out away from his body. It hissed and clawed at his arms, but he just laughed.
"You're a feisty motherfucker, ain't ya?" He prodded gently at its belly with his blade. "Yeah, come at me, little man!"
"I didn't know you liked cats?"
He cackled then. His whole body shook with it, and the cat struggled harder.
"Hell no, I don't like no damn cats. Little shit's gonna save our asses though."
He reached out less gently this time, cut a thin stripe across the cat's stomach. It squealed, and she flinched.
"Get the door!" he ordered, and his tone left no room for argument. He tossed the cat inside, and it took off like a shot.
She watched, sick with horror, as the walkers pounced on the poor thing. The squealing started again, worse this time, before fading out all together. Merle wasted no time rushing in, picked them off one by one as they feasted. He saved the one in the corner for last. Sauntered over when he was done with the group, chuckled under his breath as it croaked at him.
"Hoo, you're one ugly bitch!"
As he began to drag the bodies outside, Beth waded through the aisles. All the powdered formula had been cleaned out already, but nestled between the breast pads and pacifiers was a slew of the premixed stuff.
"Here we go," she murmured, as she pulled a bottle from the shelf.
Similiac: Expert Care
"Ain't that shit curdled by now?" Merle kicked aside boxes in the floor as he stomped over to her.
"Refrigerate after opening," she said, grinning. "We can get a couple feedings out of one of these before it goes bad. You see an eye dropper anywhere?"
Daryl leaned further into Merle's arm, pressed his face there and yawned. They were back on the porch. The sun was going down. Too early to go inside just yet. They could avoid their old man just a while longer.
"Hey, Merle?" Daryl asked.
He looked down at that mop of brown hair, reached out a hand and ruffled it. They both stank of sweat and the creek. Had mud all over them.
"Yeah, little man?"
Daryl pulled back and grinned up at him.
"This was the best day ever."
Merle quirked his lip up, threw an arm around him. Pulled him closer. And Daryl leaned back into him. Tucked himself up under that arm. Brought his little hand up to his face and closed his eyes.
Beth shifted her back against the wall, careful not to jostle the sleeping Judy on her knees. The little one was tucked warm inside her flannel overshirt, kept letting out these soft, little snores. She looked over at Merle where he sat a few feet down, a shadow in the dark. He hadn't spoken since they settled in. Just kept staring out the window at the road they'd come down.
"What do we do now?"
The question echoed in the dark. Lingered between them longer than it should.
"Now, we wait. Daryl's gonna come."
She looked up at the moon through the hole in the roof. It was almost new, just a sliver of white against the night sky. She wondered if any of her family could see it, too. If Maggie and her daddy could. If any of them were alive to.
She closed her eyes, sent up a little prayer.
They would wait. Daryl would come.
Reviewers get a complimentary dead squirrel! Great for tracking Daryls!