Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
A/N: Oh Lord, my week has been busy. And super hell-ish. I need a vacation. Summer can't come soon enough. Not even close to soon enough.
Daisy Duke But Not Really
By: Ginny
There was no way to know for certain how long she was out, but as she came to, she recognized the sun streaming down onto her face. God, the hot Georgia sun.
"They see you, smell you, and if they catch you, they eat you," someone was explaining.
A groan pushed its way out of her mouth and she shifted. Suddenly a cool hand was being pressed to her face. "You're awake," was all they said. Meg recognized the voice as Jacqui's.
"Yeah," Meg gave another groan. "Ah shit."
"Welcome back," she smiled.
"I'm not sure I'm that happy to be back," Meg at least had the energy to joke. As she sat up, her world spun.
"How are you feeling?" the mysterious man came to stand in front of her.
"Did someone run over my face with a truck?" she asked, gingerly pressing against her swollen jaw. Then she realized she could barely see out of her right eye. It had been totally swollen over.
With a glare over at Merle, Jacqui spat, "Something like that."
"Daisy Duke!" Merle called out.
Meg turned to look at him and suddenly everything shifted into focus. He had been the one who hit her. Not just once – twice. With a glare at the Dixon, that made her eyebrow spike with pain, she allowed herself to be dragged to her feet and then she pointedly ignored Merle as she asked, "So what's happening with the walkers?"
"Daisy!" the redneck called again.
She still ignored him.
Glenn informed her that they had checked down in the sewers already and that had been a dead end. They were still brain storming.
The mystery man perked up, "They can smell us?"
"Can't you?" Glenn shot back.
"They smell dead, we don't. It's pretty distinct," Andrea explained.
A look came over the cop's face and Meg could feel the bad idea blooming.
Meg was gingerly touching her jaw, realizing that even though he had hit her on the left side, the pain spiked all the way to the right side. She hoped that didn't mean it was broken. Glancing into the dirty glass, Meg tried to make sense of her face. She looked deformed, she decided. Because she'd been out cold, she hadn't gotten to watch her face swell up and now just got to see the shocking after image. Her eye was shut tight and her jaw had also swelled up, making the left side of her face look droopy. Both were the lightest blue imaginable and Meg just knew she'd have to go through the entire bruise color spectrum before they healed.
With a deep sigh, she turned to the group as they dragged the walker in. Immediately, the smell hit her nose and she sneezed.
Everyone was in lab coats and gloves.
This was the stupidest idea ever.
"Excuse me," the cop said and Meg sidestepped to allow him to get at the axe inside the emergency box. With two sharp hits Meg's looking glass was cleared and he pulled the axe free. Maybe when this was all over, if they got out alive, she could have that axe to replace the one Glenn dropped.
No one said anything for a second, all just staring at the walker on the floor in front of them. Then the cop angrily lifted the axe and ran almost like he was going to smack it right down into the walker. Meg held her breath. But instead, he stopped. With a grunt he let the axe fall, and his visor too. Carefully, he picked through the walker's pockets till he found a wallet.
"Wayne Dunlap," he announced. "Georgia license. Born in 1979." He handed the license to Glenn. "He had twenty-eight dollars in his pocket when he died. And a picture of a pretty girl. 'With love, from Rachel'," he quoted. "He used to be like us. Worrying about bills, or the rent, or the superbowl. If I ever find my family, I'm going to tell them about Wayne," he said. Carefully, he replaced the wallet back into the pocket and stood up to retrieve his visor and the axe.
"One more thing," Glenn spoke up. "He was an organ donor."
Meg nearly snarked, "Well that makes this so much better!" But she didn't. Tension was already high and it hurt her jaw to talk.
The axe came down.
Oh Lord, was all Meg could think. With each hack, she twitched and her eyebrow began to throb. The whole group was groaning, all in unison with that axe. That goddamned axe. As the walker was split apart, Meg felt her stomach going weaker and weaker. Without much hesitation, she stumbled to the corner and threw up. Wiping her mouth, she grimaced and nearly vomited again.
The cop handed the axe and visor to Morales and encouraged him to, "Keep chopping." Then he turned his attention to the group, "Everybody got gloves? Don't get any on your skin or in your eyes."
Then with a deep breath, they all kneeled down and began to scoop up the guts. Meg held her breath and also approached the body. There was nothing else that would leave her stomach, anyways. Hesitantly, she just dipped her hand in a bit and dry heaved. But she maintained her composure long enough to cross the room and halfheartedly wipe it on Glenn. He was gagging too. Especially when someone had the bright idea of removing the guts and draping them over the cop and Glenn.
"This is bad, this is so bad," Glenn complained.
"Think about something else," the cop suggested. "Puppies and kittens."
And of course T-Dog had to ruin it. "Dead puppies and kittens," he muttered.
Glenn puked, nearly missing Meg. She shot T-Dog a dirty look. She hadn't totally forgotten that he had provoked Merle – and thrown the first punch.
"That is just evil," Andrea said to T-Dog. "What is wrong with you?"
"Next time let the cracker beat his ass," Jacqui suggested to the cop.
T-Dog apologized.
"Do we smell like them?" the cop asked after a bit.
Everyone agreed that they did.
Andrea called Glenn over and gave him her gun. "Just in case," she said.
"You might want to be careful," Meg suggested, hands on hips. "That boy lost my axe."
With a smile to Meg, she shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans.
"If we make it back, be ready," the cop said.
Then T-Dog asked the question on everyone's mind. "What about Merle Dixon?"
The cop gave T-Dog a long stare, before he reached into his own pocket and pulled out the key. Tossing it to T-Dog, the black man stared at it for a while and then let his hand curl around it. "Hand me the axe," the cop ordered. "We need more guts."
Everyone cringed as the blade bit into bone.
T-Dog gave some excuse about going up to the roof to check on the walkie-talkie. Meg nearly followed him up, but then she remembered that Merle was up there and if there was one thing she didn't want to do – it was deal with Merle Dixon right now.
When Glenn and the cop were sufficiently decked out in walker guts, the group ditched their lab coats and gloves. They sent the two out the door and then ran up the stairs to the roof. Meg was winded and leaned against the door as everyone else ran to the edge to look over. T-Dog was trying the C.B. and Merle immediately whipped around to ask, "Hey, what's happening man?"
They ignored him in favor of searching for the brave souls down below.
"There!" Morales finally pointed.
"That asshole is out on the street with the handcuff keys?" Merle asked. Only Meg caught the fear creeping into his voice.
Then she watched as T-Dog pulled the key from his pocket with a triumphant gleam to his eyes. With a half-smirk, he wiggled it back and forth in front of Merle. Meg couldn't see his face from this angle, but she would have bet anything that he was just plain furious. Yeah, she would be too. What an asshole.
Thunder rolled.
Suddenly, the C.B. burst with life. "Hello, hello?" came a voice. "Reception is bad on this end, repeat, repeat."
"Shane, is that you?" T-Dog asked. "We're in some deep shit. We're trapped in the department store. There are geeks all over the place. Hundreds of them. We're surrounded."
They stopped responding. T-Dog cursed and nearly threw the C.B. to the ground. Meg wrapped her arms around herself and looked to the sky. It had suddenly become very dark. And then, because in a zombie apocalypse you don't get many breaks, the sky opened up and the rain fell. Andrea cursed and Morales kept watching Glenn and the mystery man down below.
But Meg knew it was hopeless. Her arms tightened around herself and she lifted her head to the sky, letting the rain wash down on her. That was what this world had become, a series of shitty events – one right after the other. And the second you think that you could maybe escape, life has to throw one more shitty event right in your face. And eventually, one of those shitty events kills you.
"There is no surviving this world, is there?" she mumbled to herself. Well, at least she'd be with her family soon. She had always assumed that they hadn't made it out of the suburbs. All she hoped was that Daryl would take care of Amanda. Someone had to.
"They made it over the fence!" Morales shouted, fist pumping the air.
"They're leaving us," Andrea said, dumbfounded.
That got Meg's attention. Jogging over to the edge she said, "What?"
"No, no," Andrea muttered, grabbing the edge. "Come back."
And there they were, driving off to safety.
"Are you kidding me?" Meg shouted. "What the fuck?"
"They'll come back," Morales assured them. "They'll come back. They just need to regroup."
"Yeah, and in the meantime those walkers downstairs are probably getting in!" Meg argued.
"Meg," Morales grabbed her by her shoulders. "This is not time to get hysterical."
"When I am hysterical," she hissed. "You will know." Then she stalked back over to the door, leaning against it again. There was something about that spot – something about leaning there that made something right with the world.
Suddenly the C.B. burst forth with noise. "The roll up doors. Meet us there. Be ready."
Immediately, bags were grabbed and Morales ordered, "Come on, let's go!" Meg sprinted across the roof and grabbed a bag for herself, throwing it over her shoulder and following closely behind Morales.
"Hey!" Merle shouted. "Ya can't leave me here! I'm not foolin', man! Morales! Meg!"
She stopped at the sound of her name and glanced back. That's right, Merle was still chained to the roof. Shit. Why hadn't T-Dog released him?
"Hey, that's my gun! Don't leave me!" Merle kept shouting. "Don't leave me here!"
Andrea's frantic voice broke up the stairs, "Morales! Come on!"
"I'm coming," he called back. "We gotta go!" he said to Meg and T-Dog.
"Morales, ya can't leave me like this, man!" Then Merle noticed that T-Dog and Meg were still there. "Hey T-Dog. No, man. Ya can't leave me, man." He turned his frightened eyes to Meg. "Daisy Duke, girlie, ya can't leave me here – not like this. You can't man, it's not human."
With a groan, T-Dog turned back and on shaky legs headed over to Merle. "Go," he told Meg. "I got this."
Nodding, Meg took off down the stairs. T-Dog and Merle had their issues, but she knew that that last comment about how inhumane it would be to leave him was enough to get T-Dog to do the right thing. And this way, she could clear out any zombies that got in their way… with the weapon she didn't have, she realized. Damn Glenn for losing her axe.
She quickly caught up with the rest of the group and stood in silence, waiting for the car to pull up and the doors to open. Faintly, the sound of a car alarm sounded. Meg strained her ears to listen.
T-Dog came running in frantically, shouting, "They're here, they're here. Let's go!"
Morales and Andrea yanked the chain down again and again, opening the door. And there it was – the back of their chariot, which would whisk them away to safety. Bags were tossed up into the back of the van and once Meg threw hers she paused to look back. There was T-Dog, but where was Merle?
"Where's Merle?" she asked, straining her voice to be heard over the chaos.
No one answered, instead hopping into the van. Meg glanced back one more time and caught sight of walkers – a whole group of them quickly shuffling towards them. Screaming her head off, she threw her body into the back of the truck just before the cop hit the gas and sped away from the doors. Meg had been able to see the white's of the closest zombie's eyes, it had been that close. Morales closed the door and suddenly, they were totally cut off from the walkers outside.
With a haggard and breathless sigh, Meg let her body sag to the ground.
"Oh Lord," she whispered.
Once they were a safe distance away, Morales came to sit in the passengers seat. Meg watched his path and noticed the cop look back and survey the group. He noticed what Meg had discovered a while ago – Merle was not with them.
"I dropped the damn key," T-Dog finally admitted. No one spoke for a few seconds.
All anyone had to say was, "Where's Glenn?"
Meg lowered her head and willed the tears not to fall.
They had been driving for five minutes before Morales turned to the cop. "Best not to dwell on it," he suggested. "Nobody's gonna be sad he didn't come back."
From the very back of the van, Meg gave a strangled gasp. She tried to keep it quiet, but the cop heard her and turned around. At his curious look, she spit out, "I know at least three people who are going to be sad he didn't come back. I'm one of them, you bastard. Fuck!" she ran her fingers through her hair and a few tears slipped out as her hand got stuck in the knots. "You people never liked him. Never gave him a chance. Him or his brother. Christ! They caught all your fresh food, the two of them. Provided manpower. He was important and all you people ever heard was what came out of his mouth!"
"His actions today proved something about his character," the cop insisted.
"Let's remember who threw the first punch," she sneered at the back of his head and then shifted her gaze to T-Dog.
"He hit you, too!" T-Dog insisted.
"He was high!" she claimed.
Andrea sighed, "You sound like a battered wife – trying to make excuses for your husband."
"Tell that to Carol," Meg snapped. And that shut everyone up. Still pissed as all hell, she turned her attention back to the cop, still not satisfied. "Are you some kind of idiot?" she asked. "Yeah, bright idea giving the black guy the key to handcuffs holding a racist to the roof." Wiping her eyes she finally concluded, "I wouldn't be surprised if you threw the key off the roof, instead."
T-Dog didn't make eye contact, choosing to look down at the floor of the van.
"I'm right, aren't I?" Meg pushed. "You wanted him gone. You saw your chance. The zombies were coming, you had no other choice but to leave."
"I dropped the key," he repeated slowly and quietly. "It went down a drain."
"Bull. Shit," was all Meg would say on the matter.
Oh God, how was she going to tell Daryl?