Note: Hello Readers!
Sorry I haven't posted for a few days, hope you can forgive me my darlings but I've had serious writers block and been on the worlds most boring fishing trip, so cut me some slack for being tardy! As such this chapter COULD be a little confusing and is probably badly written compared to my other stuff but hopefully it'll work and I can have a MUCH better chapter out tomorrow or Friday. My brain is like a really really old, broken printer at the moment, like its trying really hard to function properly but its so slow that by the time its done, all the words look like big pointless blobs of ink on a page. :L
As always if you enjoy it, review it! If not, let me know why! Hope to get another out before the weekend. :D
Chapter Five: Unlikely Hero
(Follow your heart, child of the west wind
Follow the voice thats calling you home
Follow your dreams but always remember me
I am your brother, your brother under the sun)
It was beautiful to watch them stood there right in their way, their bodies locked together for warmth. The ominous rustling through the trees had sent Carol flying to her knees and flat onto the ground, the handgun in her grasp, turned in the direction of the noise. She pulled Merle under her and into her arms, his body rested between her elbows as she sheltered him from the world. Walkers, Raiders, wild animals, it could have been anything creeping through the woods in their direction and she always expected the worst. It shocked Carol and brought tears to her eyes when they slowly strutted through the trees, one long slender leg after the other.
A stag and a doe tottered forwards and stopped in the wide gap between two trees, their bodies sleek and dappled in the mid-morning sun that filtered through the tree canopies. They turned to each other and the tiny doe began tenderly licking what looked like a bullet wound on the stag's side as the larger of the beasts threw his head back in pain. She persisted, nudging his face gently with her nose to comfort him, her mouth matted with her counterpart's blood. The two animals shared a moment, gazing into each other's eyes as though they knew how beautiful it was that they found each other, just for one moment enjoying that they had everything they could primarily want. The doe licked the stag's ear and he shook his head, nuzzling her tenderly.
In Carol's arms Merle did all he could to stop himself from squealing in excitement. He looked up at his mother who was equally moved by the random appearance amongst the years of darkness of such beautiful signs of life. Sure she was used to birds, squirrels and wild dogs but this was special. She was taken back to a time before the hurt, when such beautiful things like deer strolling through the woods and precious moments with your son did still happen and her belly filled with warmth, as though she had finally knelt down and taken a sip from the warm pool of nostalgia which she had been trying to avoid falling into for some time.
Together mother and son curled up under their tree and watched, their hearts beating correspondingly. Carol began to talk quietly, which didn't seem to upset the animals who had taken to laying in the shade, the stag's body wrapped around the doe's, and she taught Merle the few things she knew about deer. Admittedly she had never been given much of a chance to learn such things, having left school so early, but it had to beat what little knowledge Daryl had imparted to their child; knowledge which extended to such things as which parts of a stag were tasty and which parts were inedible. Which in Daryl's opinion were very few parts. They both lay together for a long while and watched, loving the moment, their warmth as comforting to each other as the warmth of a thick blanket. The couple of deer had chance to get up and begin to walk away slowly together by the time the gunshot rang out and ripped both Carol and Merle right out of their mirage of happiness. In one single piercing shot the bullet sped straight through the doe's skull at which the stag charged away, a low, chillingly mournful noise escaping his mouth, and their precious moment lay in tatters. It had happened so fast that Carol hadn't even seen the doe fall and the smile on Merle's face didn't disappear for a number of seconds, until he realized what had happened.
It reminded her of the time she had been watching the frogs with Merle at the lake beside the trailer park and Daryl had snatched the amphibians out of their reach, crushed their skulls and strolled away like nothing had happened, tossing their scaly bodies onto the campfire. She had been sure it was Daryl making his way towards them now from the other side of the doe's body so she let her guard drop as he advanced. She remembered suddenly how tired she was and her eyelids rose and fell as she sleepily called out to him, trying hard not to startle Merle who had curled up in a defensive, tiny ball with his head resting on her inexplicably sore stomach. Her son was sobbing a little but she didn't comfort him, Daryl wouldn't like that, he thought their boy needed to see these things to harden him for a world in which sobbing and weakness got you killed. With the huge tree behind them providing shelter from the breeze and the heat of the morning sun beating down on them through the emerald crown of the trees it was almost peaceful even despite what had happened. She sat sprawled out on the floor with Daryl's handgun resting on the soft flesh of her thighs, watching what she thought was her partner approach. It was about time too, she thought, smiling to herself and holding out her hand to him.
It wasn't a Walker coming towards her, the guy moved too fast and was carrying a shotgun, though the muzzle which had murdered the deer was now pointed straight at her. She wondered why he approached so warily, pointing the weapon straight at her face and getting progressively slower as he advanced. His facial features were distorted by the shadows but he was Daryl's build, height and weight and in a world running somewhat short on men she automatically assumed it was hers. He called out in a strong Southern accent hardy different to her partner's own drawl and she laughed nervously at the question she was asked.
"He alive?" There was only a slightly difference in pitch to Daryl's usual voice but the tone was different, serious. Beside her Merle turned over so the man couldn't see his face and flapped an arm towards him, mumbling bitterly in his direction, angry about the deer. Carol patted her son on the head and laughed. The Daryl-shaped figure approaching faltered as her son began to move and he suddenly trained his loaded gun on the boy, which sent Carol into a protective rage.
"Daryl what the hell you doin' that for? Don't point that thing at him, he's fine!" She snapped, her brow furrowed. "Are you insane?" She added, her tone vicious. This made the figure stop in alarm. She stood up quickly, jolting Merle out of his restful state. "And where's the gas anyway?" She added, calming slightly as he lowered the gun. "That bike won't run on love you know." Mother and son stood and began to brush themselves down, waiting for the Daryl-shaped figure to come over and explain himself.
"Did you say Daryl?" Was the short, quiet response she was given in return. The voice was somewhat softer now, the shotgun flaccid and dangling at his hip. Something about his unusual manner annoyed Carol.
"Yeah, what you been hit over the head or somethin'?" She growled, unusually angrily. "I said Daryl, Daryl Dixon. That ya name isn' it?" She shut her eyes and clenched her hands into fists. Her stomach had suddenly begun to burn and she felt acid rising in her throat, no time for her partner to begin fooling around. "Come here would ya?" Little Merle spotted the doe's body and began to march angrily towards the figure, his arms out hoping to be scooped up. As he approached he began telling him about how nice it had all been before they were interrupted and how he didn't like watching the deer fall over. He ran forwards but suddenly began to slow down until he came to an immediate stop meters away from the figure, from where he began to back away.
"Mommy. This isn't daddy." He whispered, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. Carol's head snapped up and she stared at the stranger with wild eyes. She sprinted forwards instinctively and grabbed her son by the shoulders. The closer she got to the stranger the more she could make out his features and Merle was right, it wasn't quire Daryl. Though the resemblance was remarkable.
"Who the hell are you?" She barked, her voice wavering with fright. "I... Have you seen..." Her eyes began to squint as her head filled with thoughts, was this stranger sent by Daryl to tell them something, had he found help at the gas station, was he late because there was something wrong with him? Her head fizzed, she never worried about Daryl when he went on his walks and she realized now how foolish she'd been. "Did Daryl send you to find me?" She asked meekly, her eyes welling with tears.
"Nah." The figure had relaxed now and was laughing a little, his crooked teeth drawn into a crooked smile. The closer he strutted to Carol the more she realized how much he looked like Daryl. The difference between them was this man's hair was half-shaved, his eyes more wrinkled and he was obviously older. In one hand he held his gun limply at his waist and on the other arm his hand was completely missing.
"You'll be Carol then?" He sneered, his eyes drawn in tight, the smirk still on his face. "Are you fuckin' kidding me? What, ya like fifty?" It didn't startle Carol, she hardly even noticed the insult. He kept coming, drawing in closer and closer to her, making her uneasy. She shoved Merle behind her defensively but not before the stranger had noticed the tiny boy. He knelt down and began to talk on the boy's level, his voice chillingly wild. "And this is Merle? Scrawny thing jus' like his daddy eh?" He was uncomfortably close now and Carol began to back up, the hairs on her neck raising in alarm.
"How do you know?" Was all she could muster. She grabbed a firm hold of the handgun, Merle peeking out from behind her back. The stranger looked down and waved at the tiny figure.
"I found my fuckin' bike on the main road and knew the little shitrag must be aroun' somewhere. Where the hell's my brother?" Merle Senior growled, still smirking. Carol stopped, her jaw dropped. She had seen his face before, a long time ago. Of course, Merle Dixon the racist, sexist asshole who their group had left to die on a rooftop. He was stood inches away from them, a loaded gun in his hand, reeking of whiskey. Oh shit.
She was completely freaked out when he took a step towards her and he laughed as she knelt down, her hands in the air. She waited for him to do something, wanting to show she was submissive, but nothing happened. She wasn't hit, pistol whipped or forced onto her back, she wasn't even verbally ridiculed. Instead a single hand was placed lightly on her shoulder and she looked up, noticing him looking straight into her eyes. He dropped his gun in front of her and smiled.
"You stupid?" He asked, almost tenderly. "I might be sore that my brother's found himself someone better 'an me to spend his time on but I sure as hell won't hurt ya darlin'. Sorry f I spooked ya. You and that boy's family now. An' us Dixons stick together." She opened her eyes and looked up at him sternly, wondering if he was serious. His face was full of sincerity. "I'm meetin' the other fucks from the prison at the gas station soon, you two comin'?" And with that, Carol relaxed. The fear, hate and regret she had been feeling melted away and she felt safe. He had meant what he said about them being family now, she knew he had meant it. And she was eternally grateful.
Family was important to him, even if his brother did give him up as dead all those years ago. That was apparent. He had survived and as far as she could tell he had no hard feelings, in fact something seemed to have changed him completely into a seemingly more modest man. Her heart skipped a beat and she felt ashamed for judging a book by its cover. Merle Senior scooped Merle Junior up into his arms and poked the youngster on the nose. "You're little Merle then? Fuck me thats a good name you got there buddy. An' my god do you look like your scrawny little daddy." They laughed in unison and the older of the two slung the tiny boy roughly over his shoulder and strode away, Carol tailing behind both confused and blown away by the speed at which things had turned around.
Daryl pinned himself in a corner high up on a narrow but sturdy shelf alongside bottles of petrol, beer and some kind of gas canisters, the label of which he couldn't read. Below him walkers scrabbled at the bottom shelf, trying to find a way to climb up after him but like a panther he nestled protectively in the shadows, hoping they might loose interest. There could be no less than twenty walkers crammed into the tiny storage room trying to get at him, their skinless faces crumpled into snarls, teeth gnashing as though chewing through the air to reach him. Twenty walkers were there and he had brought just four arrows, his chances looked slim. He didn't even notice the sounds of the truck slipping into the parking lot outside.
"Hey ya little bastards, why don't you fuck off and go after some other bastard for a change." He snarled at the Walkers, his face fearless. A flash image of his partner hiding in the woods with his son and unborn child raged through his head and changed his mind, at least it was him hanging like bait above a room full of walkers, not them. This time anyway. Though how long they would last in those sparse woods without him he didn't know. He yelled out with frustration, fingering the jewelry box in his pocket in which the ring he had intended to give to Carol sat silent and mocking. Why hadn't he been more careful. It was all about to not matter any more. His chewed corpse would occupy the walkers for a while, stopping them from finding the people he loved for a few hours more, but they were helpless without him. Carol was pregnant, the walkers would fall on her stomach and rip out the baby right in front of her. Make her watch as they tossed it aside and ravaged her guts for the more tender, stringy flesh. That would be how she found out about the baby, when she was watching them throw its tiny unformed body aside like a rag doll. His face melted in pain, he would give anything to stop that.
He had smashed the glass of the high windows next to him a little while ago and looked outside, the drop to the floor looked dangerous from up there. Besides which, the few remaining Walkers drifting around the rest of the gas station would be on him in moments especially if he injured himself on the way down or made too much noise. He didn't like his chances any more out there than he did inside. He picked up a shard of broken glass and looked at it, turning it over in his hands. A slash to the wrists and he could bleed out and avoid having himself torn apart, but he remembered Rick telling them that they were all infected- he'd turn into a Walker either way.
He couldn't cope with thinking he would become a threat to Carol and little Merle when he turned. Immediately he imagined it- that he was the monster ripping his unborn child out of Carol's belly whilst she screamed, his dead eyes resting on her frightened face, it could be him driving his terrified son against a wall and tearing into his tiny neck. Perhaps his son would run up to him and try to hug his father, afraid, and before he knew what was happening the corpse would be sinking his teeth into his child's face while Carol was forced to watch in horror. The image caused him to gargle up a little vomit and spit it onto the unsuspecting head of the nearest zombie at the bottom of the shelves, which didn't seem to phase the creature. It just kept coming. Just as he would when he turned. If any part of his human self remained he would remember where Carol and Merle were hiding and he'd keep coming until they were dead with him.
The only way out would be a shot from his crossbow straight into his brain. He shook his head, that was no good, he didn't even know if that would work. How could he throw his life away anyway, it had been so good with Carol lately. He thought about her tiny, trusting body wrapped around him as they rode the bike almost all the way to the prison. It seemed like a distant memory. She had lent right forward and whispered to him that she loved him a few times, reminding him why he was still fighting the good fight in this horrid world. He remembered how she looked the night before, laid below him, her legs wrapped around him and her beautiful face flushed with pleasure. It had driven him wild, he had felt like the luckiest man alive in that moment, she was so perfect and life felt so good. They had risked it once again last night, if she wasn't pregnant she probably would be now. He felt like an idiot for doing it. What life could his family have now anyway, they depended on him and he was about to either opt out or get chewed to death without them even knowing. He had meant to teach Carol to hunt and survive but he enjoyed being depended upon so much that he had avoided it, now she would be lost. Even if she did know how to move on, she was so ridiculously loyal that she wouldn't leave until she knew he was really dead, which would lead her straight into the same trap as he was in. In a rare display of emotion, he began to shriek in frustration again and the tears rolled down his face in anger.
It was then, just as he began to loose himself that his unlikely hero stepped in. At first he thought he was imagining it, the gunshots ringing out from the top of the building opposite to him. The Walkers below him began to turn away, distracted, and drift towards the door. Daryl's face fell into one of complete bemusement, had he passed out into some optimistic dream? He watched the creatures wander away and he slapped himself in the cheek, trying to figure out if it was fantasy or reality. When he opened his eyes and found the room below him empty of all but two of the Walkers, he began to smile, his white teeth clenched into a huge grin. Carol? Jesus? He didn't care, somebody was kicking ass to save him. He popped two shots off his crossbow and sprang down, his smile huge, taking barely moments to pull the arrows from the eye sockets of his targets.
By the time he got outside, Andrea and Rick were comfortably sprawled out on the roof of the adjoining building, sniper rifles stuck to their eyes, the building surrounded by headless corpses. Daryl stood, completely confounded and he stared up at the familiar people shooting the creatures with precise aim from yards away. He began to chuckle but eventually the light giggles grew into hysterical howling as he watched his old friends pull empty bottles of whiskey from beside them and hurl them down straight onto the heads of the creatures, causing explosions of blood, brains and glass shards.
"Hey there guys!" Daryl yelled, barely audible over the growling of the few remaining walkers. He waved up to them and they waved back, tired but genuine smiles on their faces. "You my fuckin' guardian angels or what?"