"Kick off the heels, pussy. Put your back into it!"
His voice's strained. I told him we needed to make a ramp. He said there weren't no time for calculatin' angles an' measurin' shit out. Fuckin' prick. We'd kill ourselves liftin' the damn thing into the back of my truck. I wipe the sweat outta my eyes. Think 'bout that for a second. Guess it's a better way to die than havin' our flesh ripped from our bodies. I take a deep breath an' lift the ass end of that fuckin' bike up.
"That's it, right there. I fuckin' told you we could do that shit." I look up to see him standin' at the front of his motorcycle, his leg kicked up on the side of the bed, wipin' his face with that nasty old bandanna he kept. He's all red from the sun an' the labor. He reaches down an' pulls the whiskey from his bag, takin' a long swig 'fore offerin' it to me. I make to grab the bottle an' the bastard pulls it away just in time. Tilts his head back an' drinks it down to the label.
"You're such a fuckin' ass, Merle."
He laughs at me; pissin' me off's his favorite pastime. His free hand grips the side of the bed, swingin' his legs over an' jumpin' down. There's a loud crack as he twists his back side to side. He takes the bottle to his head again. I arch my own back an' feel relief when it cracks. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, tosses me the truck keys. I've always had good reflexes, had to with the upbringin' we got. So it shouldn't surprise him when my hand fists the keys before they can touch my face. Bastard.
"Alright, little brother. Get your ass in an' let's get outta this shit hole."
I climb into the cab. It smells like whiskey, tobacco an' leather in here. It roars to life when I turn the ignition. Merle smacks his hand down on the dash, stirrin' up the dirt.
"Woo! You hear that, boy? That there's the sound of our freedom!" His eyes are already glazed over, face still red. I look at the clock on the dash. It ain't even noon yet an' my brother's already lit. Gonna be a long fuckin' day. The tires kick up dirt an' rocks, an' I take one last look at that shack in my rear view mirror. If I could leave all the memories of my life back in the dust with that shack, it'd be a fuckin' miracle. I put my eyes back on the road ahead. I ain't one to believe in miracles.
"Lemme get one of them Reds off you, brother." We've driven all of thirty minutes an' he's already bummin' smokes off me. I shake my head, keepin' eyes up front.
"Naw. I'm down to half a pack." My body flinches slightly. Merle ain't ever been one to take no for an answer. He spits out the window, I see his face twist up outta the corner of my eye. Shit, he ain't gonna do nothin'. He ain't dumb enough to start a brawl over some fuckin' Marlboros while I'm drivin'.
"It's 'cause the whiskey? I don't give you a swig, you don't give me a smoke? That's cold, little brother." I glance quickly to his face, but don't hold it. Eye contact ain't somethin' I ever been comfortable with, even if it's my brother. He lets out a heavy sigh. "Look, I can't let you drink that shit right before you drive. You wrap this metal sumbitch 'round a tree, then what? We snuggle up together on my fuckin' bike? Not likely."
He's almost finished with the bottle. Any minute he'll start slurrin' his words. I let out the breath I didn't know I was holdin'. Dixons are fiends when it comes to the bottle, amongst other shit. I can't look at my brother when he gets like this. He looks too much like the bastard that lead him to the problem in the first place.
I try so fuckin' hard to keep my lips off the mouth of a bottle. But a weakness for self-indulgence flows through my blood. I don't like me when I drink. Merle's an ass, but I'm a monster. A shadow of the man who made me who I am today. I once slammed a guy's face into a bar for knockin' over my shot. It'd been an accident, but I saw red. Merle had pulled me off the poor bastard. It was hazy, but I remember the blood flowin' down his lips, past his chin. Broken nose, busted mouth. Merle had told me it was the proudest day of his life watchin' me fuck that guy's face up. I don't know how I feel 'bout that.
I don't like the man I am. Never have. I don't think I even liked me as a fuckin' kid. I often wondered why I was even put on this earth. It felt like a sick joke, an' I was the only one who didn't find it funny. Well, not the only one. A gritty memory of my mama's face flashes through me. But I shove that down beneath my walls. I can't let the past haunt me no more. The fucked up world that molded me just got a whole lot worst. I ain't ever thought that was possible. Not 'til I saw dead bodies rippin' people apart.
"Damn. Worst part of the apocalypse is ain't no fuckin' radio." He pops open the glove box an' pulls out some CDs. They ain't in cases, so they're probably scratched to shit. I ain't ever really been one to like music too much, anyways. He looks at one an' barks out a laugh. "Holy shit. Looky what we've got here. 'To Daryl, From Layla'. Now, ain't that sweeter than a pitcher of tea. Weren't she that little skinny bitch? The one with the red hair? That's her, ain't it? I fucked her sister least once a month for some dope." I look at him again. He seems lost in the memory of screwin' some drugged up bitch.
"Look at us Dixon Brothers, fuckin' a pair of sisters. Was the little one any good? That sister of hers was somethin' else, boy. Whew!" I don't remember much 'bout that girl. She was always tryin' to get me to go out on dates an' shit. That was a dense broad. Comin' 'round our house dressed like a nasty whore. I was three sheets to the wind when I finally gave into her an' screwed her in her bathroom.
We had been sittin' out on her tattered old couch, Merle was in her sister's room gettin' high an' gettin' his rocks off. She kept a jar of shine in my hand all night. I remember her pullin' me in that small ass bathroom. She reached down into the front of my jeans an' grabbed me. Hard. The girl annoyed the fuck outta me, but my body acted faster than my mind. I had her on all fours in no time, shorts down to her knees. I remember that I didn't wanna look her in the face. it was rough an' it was over just as fast as it started. She passed out drunk a few minutes later an' I left her ass in there. I went back to pass out on the couch. Merle shook me awake the next mornin'. He had said their daddy pulled up the drive an' we needed to go out through the window. I never told Merle what I did with that girl.
She followed me 'round like a fuckin' starved mutt after that. She was the type Merle used to call pressed. Always tryin' to get me to come back to her place. I ain't stupid enough to make the same mistake twice. I'd forgotten she'd put that damn cd in here. I saw it on the seat one afternoon an' threw it in the glove box without a second glance. My hand goes across the bench seat to take it from him, but I ain't the only one with reflexes.
"Not so fast, stud. Let's hear what the little sister had to say 'bout you." He slides it into the player. There's a pause before the music starts. Merle laughs an' says he can't wait to hear a trailer slut's idea of a mix tape. I heard the familiar guitar riff an' my heart stood still. Why the fuck'd she have to put this song on here? The words seem to wrap 'round my throat like a fuckin' noose. Jesus Christ.
"Mama told me when I was young, sit beside me, my only son. Listen closely to what I say. If you do this, it'll help you some sunny day."
The music fills the cab, suffocatin' me. Cagin' me in. Merle's fingers drum the dash.
"Ain't ever took that little trailer tramp to be a Skynyrd fan. Good taste in music, poor taste in men." He laughs again, punches my arm. I just try to tune it all out.
"Oh, take your time. Don't live too fast. Troubles will come, an' they will pass. You'll find a woman an' you'll find love. An' don't forget son, there is someone up above."
I need to steady my breathin'. I'll put this truck in a ditch if I can't get my shit together.
"An' be a simple kind of man. Oh, be somethin' you love an' understand. Baby, be a simple kind of man. Oh, wont you do this for me, son, if you can?"
I don't even think. My hand shakes as I reach out to switch the song. Merle looks at me. Deep down, he knows what's wrong. He clears his throat, spits outta the window again. I wait for the backlash.
"Yeah. I ain't too fond of that one, either." His voice is dry as the cloud of dust we kick up, Sweet Home Alabama fills the air 'round us.
My brother ain't ever been the emotional type. Hell, he's the one who taught me how to put up a fortress 'round myself in the first place. When our mama died, I cried. It got the shit beaten outta me by our old man. He hated weakness. He hated emotion. Merle snuck in an' outta our room that night with wet rags to wipe the blood offa my back. He'd been the whippin' boy for years. Smart mouth an' a habit of stealin' shit made you an easy target for the old man. Merle always thought that was the only night that man struck me. That's 'cause he was always too drunk or too high to notice much.
Merle once told me that his purpose in life was to save me from the same pain he endured. That God made him tougher an' made him act out so our father wouldn't put a hand on me. He said God would forgive him at judgement day for the sins he committed, 'cause he did it to save my skin. That his life was meant to be a sacrifice. I always thought he was brave. But, after our father started tearin' my back up instead, I thought Merle had been an idiot. I never told him that I'd taken his place. It was my burden to bear, not his.
Nowadays, Merle's on the same side of the religion fence as me. I can remember him prayin' at night when we were kids. Askin' God to save us from our father. To save our mama from his beatin's. I would lay in my bed an' listen to him whisper to some great, invisible force to give us protection. I always wanted to believe it. 'Til the day we lost our mama. I couldn't help the resentment I had felt to the one Merle had silently spoken to all those years. Hadn't we been through enough? Days without so much as a piece of bread so's our dad could keep up his drinkin'. His almost daily bar runs, stumblin' through the door at all hours of the night.
Mama would try to keep him quiet, tell him we were sleepin'. But Merle an' me never slept on his bar nights. I remember my mama's cries, the sounds of his hand connectin' with her face, her scared voice when she'd tell him to let go of her arm before he'd drag her into their room, against her will. That's when I'd close my eyes tight, put my head under my pillow. We'd wake up in the mornin' to see the old man passed out on the recliner, he never slept in their bed once he finished with her. She would tell us to keep quiet, go outside while he slept. The bruises never fully left my mama's face.
That fuckin' song threw me back into my past. I remember my mama's bruises. The ones on her face, 'round her neck an' up her arms. She'd sit outside with me under her favorite oak tree an' hold me close. I'd bury my face in her neck as she sung to me.
"Oh don't you worry, you'll find yourself. Follow your heart an' nothin' else. You can do this, if you try. All that I want for you, my son, is to be satisfied. An' be a simple kind of man. Oh, be somethin' you love an' understand. Baby, be a simple kind of man. Oh, wont you do this for me, son, if you can?"
My mama was the only woman in the world to ever hold my heart. I'd never let any other woman get near what's left of it. Sure, I'd bed 'em down. But love an' sex don't go hand in hand. Merle taught me that with all the girls he ran through. He always told me to find pleasure for myself 'cause I'm the only person who cares if I'm happy. I know he's right.
"What we needa do is find some people, a group or somethin'." His voice broke through my thoughts. We were comin' close to the quarry, now. He had told me we couldn't go to the city with all the others. That there'd be too many cops lurkin' 'bout ready to lock him up on possession charges. I highly doubted my doped up brother would top the list of their problems given the current situation, but I ain't gonna argue with him. Neither of us was what you'd call a people person. Now he wants to find a group.
"Why?"
"We find a group, we find food. Maybe some more weapons. You're good with that bow of yours, boy, but how 'bout over twenty dead closin' in on you? Wouldn't stand a chance. My gun's low on ammo. We need to find more people." I don't like it. Merle's always been the one to steal, not me. Sure, I'd pocket some of the shit he'd grabbed an' handed to me. Weren't the same. I ain't ever relied on nobody to provide for me, that included stealin', far's I'm concerned. I prefer self sufficiency. But Merle speaks again before I can talk him outta it.
"Pull over on the shoulder here." We're right before the road up to the top of that quarry. I see what caught his attention. There's a large fire goin', smoke fills the air. "Baby brother, I do believe we've found our suckers."
I can't help but think how stupid those people were to make such a large fire. If we could see it that meant the dead could, too. I don't feel right doin' this. I let the truck sit in idle, tryin' to come up with an argument.
"Don't get all soft on me now, boy. We gotta get up there an' make a quick job of it. Stick 'em up or shoot 'em down. It can be their choice. Don't ever say I ain't a fair man." I flinched when he called me soft. Bastard did that on purpose, knows damn well how I feel 'bout that word. The wicked smile he gives me then seals our fate. He looks so much like the old man in that moment, I'm almost scared of him.
I turn off the shoulder an' slowly take the road up. There's a shit ton more people than we expected. Merle speaks quietly when he tells me it's a change of plan, that we'll have to wait for them to fall asleep. I'm relieved that somethin' bought these idiots more time. They ain't nobody to me, I don't care what happens to a single one of them when we take off. But I have to live with myself either way. We pull up to an old station wagon an' a man approaches us with a handgun raised. Merle swears under his breath. The guy steps into the headlights of my truck an' his deputy uniform catches my eye. Of all the fuckin' people my stupid, redneck brother tries to rob...
"Y'all boys lost?" He's up to my window now. He looks pissed. I clear my throat, dunno what the fuck to say. Merle saves my ass, as usual.
"Evenin' officer. My brother an' me been out all day lookin' for some shelter. All each other's got really. Considered headin' down to the city." The cop lowers his gun, but keeps a firm grip on it. He looks from Merle to me, then speaks directly to Merle.
"Don't waste the gas or the energy. Atlanta's been run over. Why else would I keep my people up on some godforsaken mountain?" The surprise on Merle's face is genuine. We never thought it'd be overrun by anything but cops. Merle clicks his tongue.
"Well, officer. Ain't that a damned shame. We been drivin' this heap all day hopin' for somethin' better." He leaves it at that. He doesn't have to ask, a deaf man could hear the question he's thinkin'.
"Y'all got weapons or ammo?" In response, Merle lifts up his shotgun.
"Daryl, here's, got hisself a pretty nice Horton settin' in the bed of the truck. Front of my bike. Y'all need the extra muscle?" He looks like he's thinkin' on it. His face turns to me an' I look away.
"You gotta bow? Means you can hunt?" I keep my eyes forward, nod slightly. He seems annoyed. He speaks to Merle again. "Your brother don't know how to speak? Deaf or mute or somethin'?" I see Merle's muscles tense up. Far's he's concerned, he's the only one that can give me any shit.
"Easy what you say, officer. My brother's a lot smarter than you might think. Boy's just shy 'round strangers. When he's got somethin' important to say, he'll speak up." He claps his hand on my shoulder. It's probably the most carin' gesture he's showed me since we was kids. I still flinch at the sudden contact. But the officer seems to accept that. Twice Merle's saved my ass in under ten minutes. I'll never hear the end of it.
"The name's Shane. Y'all fellas come up here with me. I'll introduce you to the rest of my camp. I'm tellin' you now so there ain't no surprises. If the people here don't want y'all hangin' 'round, you get back in that truck an' head on out." We nod to him. He walks us towards his people, a large ass group. Men, women, kids. My eyes focus on that big ass fire, may's well be a fuckin' dinner bell for the dead. I clear my throat.
"Y'all needa make that fire smaller. The light an' movement will bring the dead down on you." He looks at me for a moment. The corner of his mouth turns up an' he holsters his gun. His hands cup his mouth as he shouts.
"T-Dogg! Glenn! Do somethin' 'bout that fire. We needa keep 'em smaller." He turns back to me, almost smilin'. "Only speak when you got somethin' important to say?" He laughs to hisself an' leads us on. Merle punches my arm an' winks at me when I catch his eye. Guess we save each other.
A/N: I do not own The Walking Dead or the characters. I also do not own the Lynyrd Skynyrd songs mentioned here. Feel free to let me know what you think and if I should continue it up to where Push starts. For now, I'm going back to work on my next chapter in Push! :)