Rick and Glen slowed a bit till it was only Daryl and I leading and a pregnant silence enveloped us until Daryl's gruff voice popped it. "Don't get in the way of Merle, he's probably still hyped up on drugs. You'd best keep your distance cuz I ain't prepared to carry his white ass all th' way ta camp." He didn't so much as look at me as he advised me, instead his eyes were trained around him, surveying the area with crossbow steadily poised if a walker popped out of nowhere.
"How am I supposed treat him if he's dangerous." I asked confused by Daryl's statement.
"Just don't piss him off, he ain't one to take kind to lady folks. 'specially when they taken care of im'." He turned to look at me then, his blue eyes glinted in the sunlight as he swiftly nodded at me sending an unspoken message, you'd best listen to me. And I nodded back to assure him that I got the message.
"Were almost there guys, just past this alley, and up the fire escape." Glen whispered catching up to Daryl and I.
Rick stepped beside me and sunlight glinted off his badge. I tensed clutching the rifle tightly to my chest and swallowed hard. This man wasn't going to hurt me…he wasn't him. Daryl glanced at me, eyeing my white knuckles and tense demeanor.
I flinched when Rick whispered to me. His breath was too close…he was too close. I fought the urge to run. "It's okay, we can handle ourselves when it comes to Walkers. You're safe."
I swallowed again, his two words echoing in my ears. You're safe…you're safe….shhhh you're safe…safe… I shook the memories off me, wanting nothing more than the oil like thickness that invades my mind to be cleansed.
"Okay." I didn't really know what else to say. Rick looked like a nice man, he seemed genuinely concerned for me, but so did he. Maybe it was his apparel that made me easy; the glint of his shiny, cold, badge, the rough scratchy material of his shirt, the terrifying snap of buttons.
"Hey! Come on we don't have all day!" Daryl's rough voice startled me from the living nightmare like a bucket of cold water. My head snapped up to meet all three of the men's stares. A pair of brows were furrowed with worry, the other merely wrinkled in annoyance. I swallowed down the anxiety and hurried forward, griping the rifle closer to myself while muttering a soft 'sorry'.
Cold blue eyes glared at me and seared into my back as I marched forward. "Told ya' not to slow my ass down."
Tossing a glance behind me I eyed him. "Seems to me Daryl, that you are slowing us down. Seeing as my ass is ahead of yours." Turning around I marched forward shrugging off his icy glare.
I heard Glen laugh, and maybe if I would have looked I would have found Rick smiling and a seething Daryl. "She got you good man." Glen's banter only earned him a gruff 'shut up' from Daryl as he stomped his way past me.
Daryl led us stealthily past a few walkers, who were distracted by the remnants of what appeared to be a horse. The rotten stench of the walkers and weeks old decaying flesh, baked in the scorching Atlanta sun, finally made its attack on my senses. The putrid smell assaulted my nose and burned my eyes till they watered. I choked back a gag, but that only made it worse as bile steady gathered in the back of my throat.
The drawn out moaning and the shuffling of a walker caught our attention. It was a woman with straggly black hair, eyes wide and glazed with death and hunger, and her lower jaw was missing as chunks of decaying flesh desperately hung to her worn face. I gagged again desperately trying to hold back the bile burning the back of my throat.
Daryl approached the walker with disdain quickly raising his crossbow.
"Damn, you are one ugly skank." Was her eulogy before a well aimed arrow pierced her brain and put her out of misery. The squelching sound of it penetrating her skull pushed me over the edge as vomit spewed from my tight lipped mouth. As I doubled over to empty my already empty stomach, I couldn't help but wish that I could actually vomit food instead of pure stomach acid. I took a few seconds to straighten myself, and when I did all three men were staring at me. Two with worry, and sympathy and the other with disbelief and annoyance, like he couldn't believe that I would hurl at time like this.
"Sorry…first time in a major city." I mumbled my apologies and wiped the bile from my lips with the back of my hand. Two nodded with apologetic smiles, and Daryl just turned and scouted the area for more walkers. A few seconds passed before we hastily moved again our adrenaline pumping even faster now as we stomped up the narrow metal stairs to the roof.
"See T-dog chained the door. There is now way walkers could have go to him." Glen explained cutting the thick padlock and chain of the door. They loud clang they produced echoed through the hall and reverberated through my ears.
"You'd best pray he's still alive. Or you're gonna wish I was dead!" Glen shrank back from menacing blue eyes and jumped when Daryl kicked the door open.
"Merle!" Daryl's gruff voice echoed over the roof top and bounced off nearby buildings. We all held our breath for an answer, but we didn't expect the answer we received. Silence…nothing but the shuffling and moaning of the dead.
"Merle!" Daryl tried again racing over to a small set of stairs the arched over large industrial pipes.
"Daryl we're not the only ones he-" Rick harshly whispered as we quickly caught up to him, but was quickly silenced by the agonizing yell the clawed its way from Daryl's throat.
"No!" I sucked in my breath as the scene before us, gagging at just the thought of it. Merle had…severed his own hand off and the action reminded me of an animal caught in a trap, forced to chew its limb off to survive. Baked blood painted the surface of the handcuffs, and glinted off the dull hacksaw a few inches away. A pile of blood coagulated underneath the bloody handcuffs.
"NO!...NO!" Anguish, and sorrow cracked his voice as he paced the roof like an angry animal. Anger and hatred scrunched his face and pain gathered in his eyes.
"NO!...No!" I bit my lip, the pain etched in his voice nearly gathered tears in my own eyes. His fists balled up automatically as he continued pacing the roof in angry quick strides.
Rick, Glen and I slowly stepped off the metal stairs our own disbelief crippling our vocal cords. Rick a few steps away and Glen behind me. Then suddenly he snapped, like a rubber band pulled to tightly. With a feral growl Daryl twisted and aimed his crossbow directly as me. Rick pulled his gun and aimed it at Daryl, and we all three stood there weapons drawn with a shaky aim. I had my rifle trained on Daryl, his crossbow locked on me and Rick's gun aimed at Daryl.
"If it wasn't for you, I could've gotten to him sooner!" Daryl yelled again his breathing ragged and unsteady. I could hear him fighting not to break down, refusing the let himself be weak in a moment that he felt he needed to be strong. My grip tightened on my rifle, my hands were shaking.
"Daryl put it down!" Glen shouted from behind me. Daryl's fiery blue eyes merely flicked his way then locked onto my own again, his breathing was heavy and short, but full of rage. A few minutes passed with nothing but silence and heavy breathing.
"I won't hesitate I don't care if every walker in the city hears it. Put…it…down." Rick steadied his aim as he warned Daryl, his eyes never wavering from him.
I watched as Daryl's face crumbled; his eyes shut and squeezed with pain, lips pulled down in the beginnings of a choked mourning. After what seemed to be forever and a moon, Daryl relented lowing his weapon and turning away rubbing at his face.
"Do you have a doo-rag or something?" He asked turning to Glen, who in turn searched through his backpack and handed him a piece of material.
Daryl cleared his through, bent down near his brother's severed hand, and gingerly picked it up by the pinky. "I-uh guess the hacksaw was too dull for the handcuff." He swallowed thickly as his voice cracked a little. Eyeing the severed limb he muttered to himself before ceremoniously wrapping the hand in the cloth. He stood up, looking around like he didn't know what to do with the cloth coffin. Gesturing to Glen he moved to carefully stuffed the hand into his backpack. Glen's face paled, his lips were pulled into a tight grimace.
"He…uh must've used a tourniquet. Maybe his belt…there-ah would be a lot more blood if he didn't." Daryl continued reigning in his emotions by talking his way through it and swallowing down his hurt in thick gulps. With that said Daryl took off and followed the droplets of blood.