Chapter Two
"Goddamn mother fuckers!" he screams knowing that the only ears his words fall on have long been dead. He immediately regrets his outburst as it only further agitates the corpses clawing at the door trying to get to their food source. A few decaying hands and arms push through the crack between door and frame, violently grabbing at the air. He knows it won't be long before the barricade falls and he becomes an all-you-can-eat buffet for those bastards. He quickly looks around to see what he can use to get out of this predicament. His eyes fall on a rusted hacksaw and he somehow manages to drag the old tool toward himself using his belt. He tries to saw off the handcuff but there is no way he can cut through the metal in time. The door starts to buckle under the weight of the gathering undead and he realizes he has only one option if he has a hope in hell of getting off this rooftop alive.
Merle quickly loops his belt it around his right forearm, cinching it tight. He grabs the hacksaw, hovering it over his skin. Before he can regret this deluded decision, he hears a loud cracking noise indicating that the door will soon offer no protection from those crazed corpses.
"Goddamn cunt pussy fuck," a slew of swear words escape his lips as he presses down on his wrist with the blade. Blood immediately starts to pool from the laceration made by the serrated teeth of the rusted tool. The banging on the door suddenly becomes more forceful as the smell of freshly spilt blood sends the walkers into a feeding frenzy. More sinister sounds start coming from the door as its hinges start to bend and break. Merle picks up the pace of his self-amputation despite the burning, excruciating pain his sawing actions are causing.
He can taste metal in his mouth as he realizes he has been biting his tongue in an attempt to somehow lessen the pain in his arm. He spits a mouthful of blood and saliva onto to ash-vault of the roof. "Fucking useless nigga' cunt and offica' friendly, gonna kill 'em" he curses under his breath as he continues to cut away his own flesh, muscle, and tendon. The saw's teeth suddenly come into contact with the bones in his wrist, and now with each pass of the blade an awful crunching sound can be heard, far worse than the sounds being emitted by the breaking door and savage beasts behind it. Merle can feel each and every pass of the saw, vibrating its way up his arm into his shoulder up his neck and into his head. He grits his teeth as sweat pours profusely from his forehead and the world starts to fade in and out. The pain is unbearable and he starts to question whether or not this is worth it when his bones finally break away under the savagery of the tool combined with his strength, desire the live, and an even greater need for revenge, "gotta get off this motha' fuckin' roof an' kick sum motha' fuckin' ass!".
He continues to rapidly cut away the remaining half of his forearm as he looks up at the door and threat of intruders. He realizes he only has seconds to spare as he desperately cuts away the remaining tendrils of flesh connecting his arm to his once favourite hand for jacking-off. Merle slowly stands up as he is finally freed from his restraint, now short one appendage. His body sways back and forth as he begins to understand the gravity of his situation and his body reacts to the rapid blood loss and abruptly severed appendage. Despite his tightly wrapped belt, his arm continues to furiously drip blood and he knows he must take action quickly unless he wants to bleed out on this fucking roof. Merle hastily looks for a way out and his eyes fall upon another door, one apparently free from the ravenous undead. He stumbles toward it, entering the back stairwell of the building, hoping for the best but expecting the worst.
Eventually he comes across a kitchen, spots a gas-stove, and turns it on, knowing what he must do in order to survive. He heats a small black iron tool in the flames of the stove until it is red hot. He takes a deep breath and presses it onto the carnage of his forearm, searing the severed veins, arteries, muscle, and tendon until the blood loss stops. The agonising pain of the cauterization accompanying the invading scent of his own burning flesh causes him to gag. Just as Merle completes his second surgical procedure of the day, he hears the distinct shuffle of dead feet. He grabs a wrench left haphazardly on the countertop by some long-gone previous owner and moves in the direction of the noise. The putrefied stench invades Merle's nostrils seconds before he sees the two corpses and they see him. They shamble toward Merle, outstretched rotting arms, slack jaws vocalizing the most awful moaning, and a hunger in their eyes he wants no way to be a part of. Merle raises his makeshift weapon, slamming it into the skull of the first walker causing a horrible crunching sound and the once-male body to slump down on the ground. Before the second corpse can grab him, Merle once again swings the wrench, burying it deep in the walker's head and ending its life.
Merle hears a terrible moaning coming from the stairwell, "Aw shit, fuckers musta' broke through," he breathes heavily, now truly feeling the effects of blood loss. He makes his way to a window, quickly opens it, and hoists himself onto the adjacent fire escape. He scouts the alleyway below, and seeing no inhabitants – dead or alive, and jumps down, almost immediately regretting his actions. His feet touch down on the pavement but his newly unsymmetrical unbalanced body causes him to lurch forward. In an attempt to brace himself, he reaches out with both hands, but before he can realize his mistake, already having briefly forgotten his missing limb, he collapses onto his right side. An immeasurable amount of pain shoots through his right shoulder and collar bone, "fuckin' broken bones too, why fuckin' not" he says under his breath as he shifts his weight in order to lie on his back. Hot breath courses in and out of his body, and suddenly Merle succumbs to one of his coughing fits brought on by years of smoking. However, his former military training kicks in, forcing him to abruptly catch his breath and sit up in order to survey his new surroundings.
Merle painfully gets to his feet and starts to swiftly move down the alley despite his ailing body. "Gotta get back to camp, gotta get to ma brotha', gotta kick some nigga' ass," he says under his breath. He makes his way to the street and stops dead in his tracks upon seeing countless walking corpses crowding his path back to base. He stealthily backs away in the direction he came, hoping to hell he went unnoticed. He jogs to the opposing street, and sees that the undead thickly crowd the direction leading out of Atlanta. Knowing he has no other option, he heads deeper into the city's core, hoping to eventually come across a way out.
Merle is unsure how long he wanders the streets of Atlanta, killing several walkers using a knife he found impaled in a rotting shell of a former human being, before he realizes he needs a safe place to rest. While the cauterization of his stump stopped any further bleeding, he had lost a significant amount of blood before he was able to perform that life-saving measure, and since he had not stopped moving since leaving the rooftop, Merle felt exhausted, dehydrated, and on the verge of delirium. Merle turns another street corner and stops dead in his tracks. "Why hello there gorgeous," he says as a smile spreads over his dry, cracked lips.
