Well, this is it, kiddies. The very last story in this series. I hope it goes well, hope there's no disappointment, no outright rage at me or anything. Hope no one dies. That would be a bummer.
Chapter One: Fish
**Merle**
They were deep in the heart of July.
Georgia in the middle of summer was hotter than a Texan's asshole, but God she was beautiful.
Without dipshit human beings cluttering up the countryside, the place was like heaven bathed in warm summer air and light, humming with all kinds of cicadas and crickets.
Dipping his fishing pole in the river that ran behind the prison, Merle allowed his little rowboat to drift down with the current and yawned lazily. Before him Cash was baiting his hook with a deep furrow to his brow. On the banks of the river somewhere behind them Glenn and Rick were hunting for ducks and geese eggs to take to Delgado's for his incubator. It was late in the season, but they hoped to find something, anything at this point. They thought if they could domesticate the ducks and geese, they could preserve them since the last of the lingering dead were so hungry they were eating anything and the numbers of wild game were rapidly going down.
Merle hadn't seen a deer since the spring, the birds were luckier, since they could fly away from a crowd of lingerers, but the hooved creatures didn't seem too lucky. Hell, he had even found a fox burrow that had been plundered by one of the remaining dead, the poor family of foxes inside torn to bits.
Winter would be damned hard going if they couldn't come up with a better solution for meat. But at least they were storing up and canning all the fish they could catch. It would get repetitive and disgusting, but it would keep them alive.
Delgado was sympathetic, but he had his own people to worry about, so all he could lend them was his incubator if they found eggs. As it was, the numbers of chickens running around the convent yard had doubled since the incident with the Arkansas group in preparation for the winter. Delgado had even promised them a dozen turkeys in the fall for the help Rick and the others had given him in rebuilding his barn.
It was good to have an ally, Merle supposed, in the long run.
Thinking of the Arkansas group, made Merle think of his baby brother.
No word from either him or the Lieutenant for three months and everyone was beginning to move on in the belief they didn't make it.
Merle didn't like to think of it. Daryl was his little brother and while he'd never been hugs and kisses with him, he still felt regret over everything.
He had to admit though, neither Carol or Grace gave up hope of seeing their men again. Both women acted like their men could waltz in through the gate at any moment, whether it was denial or God's honest belief in them, no one knew.
Somewhere in the woods nearby Andrea, Michonne and Karen were collecting wild sassafras and any other kind of wild treat they could find, while Tyreese and his sister Sasha were in the nearby town with Sister Joan and Grace, looting the last of the stores for anything of use. They were stockpiling for trade if the chance ever came up with Delgado needing something. After all, he had them at a disadvantage, since his people had more to work with than those at the convent.
Milton had rigged up solar panels for them on the roof of the church which gave them electric lights at night and working plumbing, so he did the same for Delgado's group in exchange for more feed for the chickens and one milk cow which they kept tied to one of the trees on a rope long enough for it to graze, but short enough to keep it out of the garden. Now he was back at the convent probably working on his homemade anti-biotics with the chemicals they had scavenged for him from a distant science lab one state over. He had taken up one corner of the infirmary for his lab, boiling and bubbling away with chemicals that stunk to the high heavens.
Carol, Adele, Layla and Mary Agnes had taken over fussing with the cow and the new beehive they had built for fresh honey for medical purposes and to add a touch of sweet to things in the absence of sugar. While Annie and Nadir took care of the chickens, chasing them out of the garden and making sure they had clean water and food, hunting down the eggs lain among the grass of the convent, cleaning them and bringing them into the kitchen to either be cooked or stored.
Kate and her daughter had finally gone back to Delgado's, though Merle heard through the inter-tribe grapevine that she still had moments where she tried to off herself, Mae had taken to fending those self-inflicted attacks off with the help of her brother. One of these days, she'd succeed, he supposed, but for now she was still kicking.
Carl, St. James, Father O'Rourke and Herschel were probably working on tearing out the trees around the convent to expand the wall out a little further in order to build the new group of little shanties for people to have some privacy. The convent grounds were too small for such expansion and the added space would be a blessing, but it would also have the disadvantage of giving them more territory to patrol on the wall.
Thankfully, there had been no more attacks on them by anyone, just the odd wandering dead who caught the whiff of all the food on legs beyond the wall. But by this point they were so decayed there was no real threat from them. They were like mad dogs, staggering in circles and dropping where they stood.
Milton said it was a slow rate of decay and when it took over the brain, rotting it from the inside out, they eventually dropped for good.
He had duct taped the rod to his blade arm, reeling in with his good hand, ready to yank back at a moment's notice. It was the only way he could fish properly, one smirk from Cash had Merle telling him to keep his yap shut for the entire fishing trip or Merle'd be going back alone.
So they fished in silence, floating down the river, heading east towards the ocean. He didn't know if the river actually emptied into the ocean, but that was the way they were flowing.
By the time the sun was dying in the west, they had caught a good batch of trout, finding Rick and Glenn waving to them from the shore, they rowed in and handed off their catch.
"We'll have this river picked clean by next year," Glenn said. "But no eggs."
"Found signs of some muskrats still living though," Rick said. "Or something burrowing in the banks."
"Meanwhile the men are bringing home the fish flavoured bacon," Merle said.
"Oh God, bacon…" Glenn swallowed thickly.
"Keep having those wet dreams, meathead," Merle stated, handing over his tackle box and climbing out of the boat. "We'll clean them at the convent," he went on. "Sister Gertrude's cats will love the entrails."
"At this point I'd like the entrails," Glenn said.
Merle handed over a fish and smiled. "Dig in."
..-~-..
..-~-..
When they drove up to the gate of the convent, they were greeted by Mrs. Douglas who was on gate duty.
She waved them in with a broad smile, the children who were playing at her feet standing up and waving happily, scampering after the line of vehicles. The women in the garden stood up as well from where they were weeding and approached, eager to see what sort of treasures they brought back.
Carol, who regained most of the strength in her right arm as it healed, set down the bundle of weeds she had gathered in the garden and approached looking hopeful. For weeks she had been hoping they would bring back something other than fish for dinner, Merle gave her a shrug and her hope fell.
"Well, I'm sure we can try to make fish in a different way tonight…make it taste like steak," she teased.
"You're a good cook, woman," he said, climbing out of the truck and reaching into the back for the bucket of fish, "but you're not that good."
"You haven't had my steak fried, chicken style fish yet," she returned with a soft laugh. It was alive, but there was a hollowness to it that even Merle couldn't miss. He also, along with a few of the others at the convent, didn't miss the baggier clothes she had been wearing lately or the late night visits to the infirmary with St. James.
Cash climbed out of the truck on his side and handed Adele another bucket of fish to clean.
"You know," she said to Carol. "I could always make Cajun style blackened trout."
"Thank God for seasonings," Carol groaned. "We have those coming out of the ass."
Spying Mary Agnes heading towards them as he readjusted his fishing gear in the space behind the seat of the truck, Merle smirked and bowed his head to his work. Waiting until she passed by, heading in to help Carol and Adele clean the fish, to reach out and playfully tap her on the ass, Merle chuckled when she gave a start.
"How's the milk maid?" He teased, falling into step beside her.
"One night under the peach tree and you're grabbing my rear end and getting smug," she returned. "That's putting the horse before the cart, isn't it?"
"Aw," he returned, "you didn't even let me touch your tits, it wasn't that great."
"Thank you," she said with a frown. "And now it'll never happen again."
"Prude," he snapped.
"Brute," she spat. Pausing by the door into the dorms, Mary Agnes smiled secretively at him. "So, latest word around the convent is that Herschel caught Beth and Noah making out in the rose garden last night. The poor kids were…getting there."
Merle leered in close to her. "Were her tits out?"
"His too." She giggled a little and fluttered off like a sparrow on the wing.
"Oh-ho, nasty little bastards," he laughed, following her inside. "Spraying their hormones all over our beautiful garden like a couple of rabbits in season, it's disgusting. So did old Herschel hose them down or just whup that boy?"
"He gave them a package of condoms and told them to be more discrete." She held her finger to her lips as Annie scurried by with Boo the Dog and Nadir on her heels.
"Fish, fish, fish!" Annie sung, skipping past them. "Gonna eat some fish!"
"Well, at least one of us is excited about that," Merle griped, ducking into the washroom to rinse the smell of fish off him.
..-~-..
..-~-..
He came upon Rick later that evening standing on the north wall, gazing down the cattle trail with stony blue eyes.
Hauling his weary old carcass up onto the wall at the man's side, Merle scowled at the trail before them.
"We've put roots down," Rick murmured. "Haven't seen a healthy walker in two weeks," he went on.
"Still on edge like a crackwhore, huh?" Merle inquired.
Setting his hands on his hips, Rick sighed deeply. "Merle—"
"I know. My mouth is bigger than my brain."
"Where do we go from here?" Rick asked.
"We survive winter."
"No, I mean what's next?"
"Shit, buttercup, do I look like Nostradamus? I haven't a fucking clue. No one's shooting at me, the dead aren't chewing on my ass. I could care less what happens next. Could use a touch more trim in my life, but it's not a bad existence." Merle carefully scratched at his jaw with the point of his blade. "You're just worried because things are getting slow. Repetitive. You got so used to running and gunning that now you're bored shitless and looking for some trouble to get into."
"Look," Rick began cautiously. He was always on his guard around Merle. "What you did for Carl last week…I appreciate it."
"The kid wants to go, Rick," Merle said. "I know you don't want him out there on his own, but one of these nights he's going to sneak off. You may as well make him feel like he can at least return if he wants to. Hell of a thing to hear a father say 'pack your bags and get the fuck out'."
"Well, I still want you to know I appreciate you talking him out of it. I'll talk to him when I'm ready to let him go."
Merle sniffed. "Well, don't put it off too long. That boy ain't waiting much longer. He's itching to leave."
"You know," Rick said after a moment, turning to him. "You're not a bad person when you're sober."
"Four months dry and counting," Merle sighed. "Fuck me sideways."
"That for Mary Agnes or yourself?"
"That's from lack of opportunity," Merle stated. "Not exactly the pill popper types these nuns and we have more important things to scrounge for when we go out."
"Yeah, but you haven't even touched the communion wine," Rick pointed out.
"I'll spill some when baby bro comes home."
"You think he's coming back?" Rick asked.
"Sure, why not? He's a scrappy little shit and that Cajun's pretty well trained. Why not say they're out there right now? On the road home. What do you think? They coming back?"
"I'm not Nostradamus, Merle," Rick growled.
The two men fell silent, Merle watching the road for his brother. It was strange, but he actually missed the little pecker. He kind of missed that Cajun too, which was completely fucked since he didn't think he liked him all that much.
"Maybe I should go after them," Merle suggested. "See if I can find them dead or alive."
"Merle, you'd be looking for a needle in a stack of needles in the middle of a snowstorm." Rick argued. "There'd be no point."
"You know that pretty little blonde nun's been following you about for the last three months, right?" Merle demanded suddenly.
"Who?" Rick asked, honestly confused.
"The one that's trying to make herself look busy over by the peach tree."
Both men turned to stare into the near darkness, where Sister Elizabeth was hanging around the trunk of the peach tree by the infirmary. They turned back to the road.
"Mary Agnes says the girl's sweet on you."
"She's a nun, Merle. They don't bend like that. Probably just feels pity for me."
"You are pretty pathetic," Merle pointed out. "Wait," he added quickly, "what about Grace? She's a nun and she bent like that."
"That's different."
"And Mary Agnes?"
Rick frowned at the shadows of the trees stretching across the cattle trail before them. "Yeah, I can't figure that one out."
"What can I say, Officer Friendly, the woman has taste."
Rick shifted on his feet.
"It's an acquired taste," Merle added. "But she's got the craving."
"Treat her well, Merle," Rick said. "She's probably your last chance for love."
"Fuck you, man."
"Fuck you back, Merle."
The two men fell silent, before Merle yawned. "Well, I'm beat. Tomorrow we're bringing in some wood for winter, that should be as fun as shoving the logs right up my ass."
"You want to trade jobs?"
"What'd you pull?"
"Filling in the outhouse holes now that we don't need them, we're going to have to pack the muck down as much as we can if we want to build the new cabins on that piece of the convent grounds."
"Baby, you were born to wallow in shit," Merle taunted, struggling to get off the wall. The young little punks just hopped up and down, but in the last few months, with things slowed to a crawl, Merle had been feeling his age more than ever.
He left Rick on the wall, heading past the peach tree, where Sister Elizabeth had settled with her bible, Annie at her side listening as the young woman read the story of Noah to her. Annie shot up and wrapped her arms around his waist as he passed by, before dropping again.
The girl had been clingier than ever since the Lieutenant left. She flitted about almost aimlessly, from person to person, looking for hugs and snuggles. Comfort, he supposed.
Her night terrors had come back with a vengeance, to the point where St. James was forced to find a mild sedative for the girl to take at night just so everyone else could get some sleep without her shrieking to the high heavens.
Passing by Cash, who watched over Layla and her son as they finished their evening call to prayer, Merle gave the pain in the ass a curt nod and it was returned with a puff of smoke from the pipe he had taken to smoking in lieu of those stale assed cigarettes he was finding hard to track down. The tobacco came from Delgado's, traded by Cash for whatever supplies he had in the trunk of his car when he took off from Martin Deveau's camp.
Walking up into the dorms past Beth and Adele who were both cooing over Celeste, past Andrea who sat nearby cleaning her guns, Merle wandered the main hallway of the dorm looking for Carol or Grace, wanting to check in on them before he hit the sack.
It wasn't so much that he felt he owed it to anyone to look out for the women, but that he…well, shit he didn't know. It wasn't that he was soft or anything. But Carol was as good as family and Grace…well Daryl thought of the Cajun as a brother, so maybe in a weird way Grace was like family too.
Not that Merle would ever admit that. He would shoot himself between the eyes the day that leaked out.
As it was, both women were in the kitchen, helping Mary Agnes and Mary Claire finish up the last of the pickled trout, Carol was drying a pot in that efficient, smooth way women had when drying things, Grace wiping down the counter and gathering up jars filled with trout for the cold room into boxes.
"There's my harem of beauties," Merle greeted with a purr.
Carol was the only one who responded to him, beaming shyly up from her drying. "Merle, what kind of trouble are you up to now?"
"None," he returned, flopping down at the table. "As it happens, I'm heading to bed. Who wants to keep me warm tonight?"
Grace glanced over her shoulder with a grin, tsking at him. "Merle, you could charm the paint off a barn."
"Don't I know it," he returned, eyeing the woman. She had been sick lately, pale and sweaty, her stomach couldn't hold anything down, it seemed. And everyone was too polite to tell her to get her ass to St. James for a look over. He wondered if maybe it was the fish. Maybe the woman didn't like the smell and taste of fish, since she seemed put off by its very presence on her plate, giving her share to Annie to scarf down, sticking to the rice and pasta side dishes.
"What about you, cutie?" Merle winked at Mary Claire. "Want to keep this gruff man warm tonight?"
The woman flushed and hurried down into the root cellar beneath the kitchen with her load of jars.
"Merle," Mary Agnes scolded. "Behave yourself. This isn't a brothel."
"I wish it was," he went on with a wicked grin. "I'd give my left nut to see you bevy of beauties in fishnet stockings and miniskirts."
Carol laughed. "The day you see me in a miniskirt, Merle, is the day there's nothing else on earth to wear."
"I'd rather go nude," Grace insisted.
"That'll work too," Merle asserted, draping the elbow of his good arm over the back of the chair. He pointedly dragged his eyes up and down Grace's form. "Like the garden of Eden…all you need is an apple or two to tempt me with, girl."
Tsking, she tossed the fishy smelling dishrag at him and clocked him square in the face.
Merle scowled and tossed it back, only to find Carol tossing her wet dishtowel at him as well.
"Whatever, ladies," he said casually, tossing the dishtowel back at Carol. "I'm going to bed."
