Author's note: So for anyone who reads Memoriam, fear not- I'm not abandoning it!
I'm simply a victim of my muse, and even though I originally wanted to start this after Memoriam finished, my muse had other plans -_-
This is probably going to be just a side project until Memoriam is finished, though my muse (AKA- Coffee) may change it's mind. Anyways, this fic is a Merle/OFC but it's much darker that most Merle fics I've read and will be rated M pretty soon due to sex and excessive drug use and some abuse...For this chap however I'm only gonna warn for referances to drug use, swearing and violence/gore.
Also, the amazing MarionArnold is my beta, so if you havent read her fic Polar yet, go read it NOW. I'll wait.
As usual, review if this is something you'd read. No reviews- no story.
I disclaim all that you recognize, enjoy!
Intro: Creatures Lie Here
How should I feel?
Creatures lie here,
Looking through the window.
Creatures Lie Here- T.I.
Merle drove the cube van slowly and steadily down the highway, trying to ignore the ghostly itch in his now non-existant right hand. It had been over a week since that 'Officer Friendly' bastard had chained him up like a rabid dog and left him for dead, but the ghost pains still came and went with a maddening irregularity.
Worse yet his stump was red and discolored,occasionally leaking out pus, leading him to believe that it was infected. He was practiced in the art of self medication, but not when it came to infection.
All his knowledge of pills focused on which ones would give him what type of high. He knew how Lyrica would make him feel like he was floating and make his perception all fuzzy and soft, like nothing could possibly harm him.
He knew that Citalopram however would heighten everything, allowing him to notice the slightest movement or smallest threats that Lyrica would help him ignore, though it would all seem hilarious. He knew all about the overdose effects of most commonplace perscriptions, but he had no idea what to take to stop this infection, besides, his stash had been taken when those shits had moved camp.
Even if could figure out what to do, he had no supplies to handle the problem with.
He tried his best to ignore it, muttering to himself to stop being such a pussy while scanning the highway for a relatively safe place to stop for the night. Noticing a road sign proclaiming that the exit to Georgian Paradise Lodges was only a mile down the road, he smirked to himself. Lodges were generally pretty deep in the woods, away from people- and geeks by default.
He could hole up in there for awhile, gather up some supplies and gas if he was lucky. These places always had some sort of first aid kit in them, so he may even be able to clear out the infection before it spread. He drove silently onwards, turning off the highway and onto a small dirt road. Parking by the main entrance, he moved carefully towards the lodges. There could be anything, or anyone, in there.
Glory Alegria Muentes stared at her husband, Mark, as he paced around the outside of their cabin. He was rambling pathetically, sounding both manic and hopeless. That in itself wouldn't concern her if it weren't for the fact that he was waving his pistol around as he spoke.
"There's no hope Gloria, no one's coming- didn't you tell me that?"
"Glory," she corrected him, sounding coolly disinterested,"and yeah, no one's coming. What's your point Mark?"
"That it's all over!" He yelled, waving his Glock in her face. "They won't stop coming Gloria-"
"Glory," she hissed, though he ignored her.
'"And they'll get us, and they'll tear us to pieces and, and I don't want that to happen to you, baby-"
"So a bullet to the brain? That's your great solution?" She growled.
"You don't have to do it by yourself," he babbled, a twisted mockery of what had once been a sweet smile on his face. "I can do it for you, then I'll do it myself, and we'll be free and everything will be fine."
She shot him a disgusted look. "So do I get a choice in this brilliant fucking plan of yours 'sweetie'?"
"We have to honey, otherwise-you- you're changing. The Gloria I knew was never like this. You're..Different now. I can't let it get any worse, don't you understand?"
"Glory," she hissed again, venom filling her voice. "And you're pathetic," she snapped, getting in his face. "You don't have the balls to just finish yourself off alone so you have to take me down with you! You won't be able to shoot yourself at all, you're too scared to shoot a fucking biter you're sure as hell gonna be too scared to kill yourself!"
Mark's jaw tightened and his eyes darkened.
"My Gloria wouldn't of said that," he whispered, completely still except for his eyes, which bore into her with hatred.
This was it.
"Bitch!" He shouted as he dove forward, clumsy and unbalanced. Glory dodged him easily, taking her machete from its place on her belt and driving it through his throat.
Blood bubbled from the wound, as well as his mouth and nose as he struggled to breathe, slowly drowning in the red liquid. His eyes searched frantically for some way to save himself and she spat on him.
"Coward," she snarled at him as he writhed in pain, picking up the pistol for herself when he finally died.
"Good riddance," she added, though now she was talking to a corpse.
Mark had been on a downward spiral for a long time now, but it would still take awhile to get used to having no one to talk too. Not that she and Mark had talked much recently, but she'd enjoyed having the option.
She had changed yes, he'd been right about that. She wasn't the woman he'd married, she was stronger, colder. She'd adapted and people who didn't- like Mark- died. Survival of the fittest. Natural Selection, it was one the first principles she'd been taught in med school.
A rustle from the bushes alerted her to someone else nearby, interrupting her train of thought. She quickly swiveled around, training the Glock on a tall, muscled man in his forties. Her eyes instinctively ran up and down his strong body, judging how much of a threat he might pose, when she noticed his right arm. It ended in a angry, discolored stub. He was missing his hand.
"Ain't no need to shoot me girly."
