Hey ya'll! Here's the new installment of the "They Call Him Pookie" 'verse.
I do not own The Walking Dead.
The Choices We Make
The choices we make are our own. Sometimes, they come from deep inside of us. But, sometimes, we make these choices on a whim. Either way, once it is done, we cannot come back to how it was before. You learn to accept it, and live on another day. You just have to.
For the Dixon brothers, they grew up making these hasty decisions. For Merle, it was leaving home and enlisting in the military. If he had went in there with a clear mindset, he probably would have made it through without losing his calm. Instead, he had used it as an outlet to get away from his drunken, abusive father, and his equally drunken, chain-smoking mother. As for Daryl, he made decisions very methodically. But the one thing he would always regret was jumping so quick to judge his brother. When the older redneck left the nest for good, Daryl hated him for it. He thought that Merle didn't care a thing in the world about him, and that was why he left. After the world ended, the younger Dixon brother came to realize that he was the only one that had ever cared for him. To this day, Daryl was as true to Merle as he was to him.
It was mid-afternoon in Georgia. The sun was beaming down on the hood of the car, its heat practically reverberating around them. Merle squinted his blue eyes, pulling the visor down in front of him with his bayonet. They didn't have much longer to travel before they would get to the Veterinary College Hershel had given them directions to.
"A'right, so we get in and get out, that's the plan, right?" Merle rasped, glancing over at his girlfriend in the passenger seat, and then to his baby brother and Bob in the back through his rear-view mirror.
"Yeah," Daryl agreed. "Ain't no time for horsin' around. We gotta get the meds and get back to everyone that needs it."
Merle frowned when the car turned itself off. He cursed under his breath as he tried to restart the car, but it wouldn't budge. That was the last freakin' thing that they needed.
"I'm poppin' the fuckin' hood," he murmured under his breath, going to get out of the car, "stupid piece of shit car."
Daryl went around to help his brother. Both Dixon boys stuck their heads underneath the hood, only to figure out that the battery was dead.
"Shit, man!" Merle cursed, shutting the hood lightly.
"Looks like there's an auto shop up there, maybe we'll have some luck," Daryl murmured to his brother, nudging to the building up a little ways.
The elder Dixon brother nodded. "Yeah. Lemme go get my woman. Her ass ain't stayin' here for nothing in this world."
Michonne opened her car door when she saw her boyfriend coming over to her side. He did not look happy. "Merle, what's going on? Car shot again?"
"Yea. It needs a new battery. Darylina saw an auto shop just a hop an' a skip away. We're gonna raid it, see what we can find for this piece of shit," Merle told her, pressing his good hand against her hip, "and yer comin' along, too."
"Oh, I am?" the dark-skinned survivor spoke. "What about Bob?"
The redneck glanced over at the medic in question. "His ass can stay here. I don't trust 'em as far as I can throw 'em."
Michonne nodded, throwing her katana across her back. "Alright. Let's go, then."
The couple watched as Daryl banged on Bob's side of the car, "'ey, ya stay here with the car. Shouldn't be gone too long." He then looked at his brother and Michonne, giving them the incentive to start heading away from the car.
On their way to the auto shop, Merle can't keep his opinions about Bob to himself. Something was just off about him. "Daryl, what'dya think is up with good ol' Bobby back t'ere?"
"Whatcha mean, bro? He's a good guy," Daryl began, shuffling his crossbow onto his other shoulder, "I ain't worried 'bout him."
"There's jus' somethin' off with him, baby brother. Somethin' jus' ain't sittin' right. An' ya know a Dixon's guy feelin' ain't to be fucked with, right?" Merle's blue eyes met with his brother's darker ones. The younger Dixon just shrugged in return.
"I don't know, but I ain't takin' yer words for granted," he told his older brother.
Merle looked over at his woman, who was frowning slightly, just staring straight ahead. "And what'dya think, babe? Am I right here?"
"I don't think he's all there, mentally. Remember when we went to the Big Spot? What was the first stop he made? Goin' to get the liquor," Michonne shook her head. "And because of that, we lost a whole hell of a lotta supplies, and that poor kid got killed." Her eyes darted between both Dixon boys, "I agree with Merle, I don't trust him."
"I'll keep a watch on 'em—well, lookie what we got here," Daryl stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the ivy vines choking the hell out of the front entrance to the auto shop.
Michonne grabbed her katana and went to work, both brothers cutting the ivy on the opposite sides of her. They worked steadily until the ivy was almost all gone, only to reveal two walkers caught in the vine. Merle stabbed both of them with his bayonet, and was able to work his way into the auto shop.
When the dark-skinned survivor and the younger Dixon brother followed him inside, they kept their distance at first. There was no telling what was waiting for them on the other side.
Daryl noticed a jug of antifreeze on the floor, as well a trail of vomit. So, those two walkers had a story after all. "Looks like these two took the easy way out."
"Antifreeze, though?" Merle shook his head. "A bullet to the head woulda been quicker…"
Daryl nodded. "Yea. I agree wit' ya there, Merle." The younger brother went over to the shelves and started to look around for anything of value. "Oh, here we go," he began, spotting a perfectly good battery.
"She's a keeper a'right," the older redneck agreed, taking another closer look at the battery, "just need to add some water to get it goin', should be good." On their way out, he made sure to grab motor oil, and anything else that could be useful car wise. They couldn't be fucking breaking down anymore.
o—o—o
They had done it! Finally, Daryl and his group had gotten the medicine and they were on their way out the window to safety. It was a tough call, what with the damn walkers with the same disease that was spreading through the prison. And now they were out of one hurdle, only to cross another. There were over two dozen walkers below the balcony that they were standing on. One by one, they tried to make their way around to a safe distance back to the car.
Bob managed to lose his grip on the bag he had stocked; in a flash, he was right there trying to rescue it from the walkers.
"Bob, let the bag go, man!" Daryl yelled over the growling walkers. "C'mon!"
"Let the fucking bag go! Are you an idiot?!" Merle added. He and his brother both watched as he retrieved the bag back. The elder brother snatched the bag out of his hands when he saw exactly what was inside of it
"What's this, huh?" He picked the bottle of liquor up and showed it to his brother.
"You picked up a bottle of damn liquor?" Daryl got up in the other survivor's personal space. "We came here for medicine and you want to get wasted?"
Merle snatched the medic up and held him over the herd of walkers, who were writhing around at the mere sight of their next meal. "Tell me why I shouldn't drop your useless ass now?" He shouted. "No one in my present company is gonna try an' stop me, either."
Michonne was watching her boyfriend carefully. His blue eyes were still flaming with rage as he held Bob over the ledge of the balcony. The walkers were trying to grab at his dangling legs, but weren't quite succeeding.
"Just do it," Daryl deadpanned, "we got to get this shit back to the prison."
The elder Dixon spit on the medic, literally dropping him to his grave. Bob's screams were heard for miles, just as the sounds of his flesh being torn apart were.
"C'mon," Merle waved his woman in front of him as they made a clearing to get back to the car.
Michonne chose to get in the driver's side this time, as she knew that both Dixon brothers would be dead silent. She grabbed her boyfriend's good hand and held it as she drove off, occasionally stroking her thumb against the palm of his hand.
"How in the hell could he have been that stupid?" Daryl wondered aloud. "We came for medicine."
"I told you the bastard shouldn't have been trusted. When we found him on that first run, I felt somethin' then," Merle shook his head. "I mean, I love a good booze. But I got better sense than to fuckin' grab a bottle when I'm supposed to be lookin' for life savin' drugs."
"It doesn't matter now," Michonne reasoned, squeezing her boyfriend's hand. "Wonderin' why ain't gonna do a bit of good." The dark-skinned survivor sighed as the car filled with silence once more. "I've decided that I'm not gonna go out lookin' for the Governor anymore."
"What? Why the sudden change?" Merle asked. His woman was obviously happy to get off of that subject, but yet she hated this one just as equally.
"I wasn't getting anywhere, Merle. If I had taken you and Daryl with me to Macon, we'd be gone awhile. And I think that everyone needs me here, more than I need to chase the Governor," his Nubian Queen just sighed. One day, that bastard would pay for what he did to Andrea.
"We're gonna get his ass, don't ya worry none," Merle kissed the back of his woman's hand. "I love ya, Michonne," he murmured into her hand.
"Love you too," Michonne whispered, a fond smile coming across her face.
Okay, here's episode four, just in time for episode five in a couple of days. Ugh.