It was unbearably hot. The humidity made the air thick, and the bright, hot afternoon sun was blaring down on him. Perhaps this was the reason Merle Dixon had begun talking to himself. It could have also been because of the drugs still making their way through his system. Or maybe, though he would never admit it, it was because he was scared that at any moment he could die. Perhaps it was a mixture of all those things that caused him to temporarily forget his situation and recount his past out loud.
The heavy steel door to the roof was being beaten on again. The padlock and chain holding it closed was straining, the force against it was too much for it to handle. The door and chain were making such a racket that it was enough to life the haze over Merle's mind. Snapping back in to the present he remembered where he was – handcuffed to a roof with who knows how many walkers about to bust down the door and rip him apart. He'd been left for dead. Trapped like an animal in a cage.
The fear he would never ever admit to having kicked in as he lashed out at the large metal pipe he was handcuffed to. He kicked at it with all the force he possessed but the only thing it was doing was causing the cuff to cut into his right wrist even more. He fell over and momentarily gave up. He began praying. Fear for his life brought him, Merle Dixon, to the point of praying. But then he spotted his savior and it was not Jesus.
Just a few feet away scattered on the other side of the pipe were tools and among them was a hacksaw. It was the most beautiful thing Merle had ever seen in his entire life. Rage filled him and spurred him on. It destroyed every ounce of fear he'd had. He started reaching for the saw. He used his belt to pull it within reach and once he finally got a hold of it he began to saw his way through the cuff.
Panic mixed with rage when the hacksaw wasn't cutting through the cuff. He would have sat there all day and night spewing cuss after cuss at the dull blade, but he was running out of time. The walkers force against the door was paying off and one of the padlocks chains gave way. It would be only moments, if he was lucky, before the other finally gave way as well. With no time left to sit and try and saw his way though metal with too dull of a blade he went for the only other option he had left. He stopped sawing at the cuff and lowered the saw blade against his wrist. He shut his eyes, sucked in a breath, and started sawing.
No walker is ever going to sink their putrid teeth into Merle Dixon.