He watched the color drain out of her face, leaving her olive skin gray as her dark eyes went wide.

"Hell, sweetheart I'm just fuckin' with ya. About me rapin' ya. Not about the rest. I bought us some time to plan. Ya always got a plan. Let's strategize."

"I can't strategize when there are men out there waiting to rape me!"

"Just the one," Merle reassured her. "But I reckon I see your point. Want me to tell ya what I know?"

"Yes."

"All right, come here."

"Why?" she eyed him skeptically.

"Because if they come by it needs to look good; like I'm gettin' it done, not like we're talkin' about escape plans," he drawled sarcastically.

She took a seat in his lap, straddling him and leaning in so that her head rested on his shoulder.

"There ya go," he spoke low. "Now it looks like I'm accomplishin' somethin'. And anytime ya wanna yell out, "I've never felt this good in my life," or "You're a God Merle!" ya feel free. It wouldn't be nothin' I ain't heard before."

She gave a shaky laugh and thumped him on the back.

"Talk to me please," she said.

"All right. They've been here for about a month. They got Candace, that's Will's girl, about a week into this whole thing. She and her husband was trying to get into the city."

"Her husband?" Sinclaire whispered.

"Yeah. I ain't gonna spell it out for ya. The other one, Monica, she's Donny's woman; they been together for about a year."

"Damn."

"Yeah. They trust me for right now…"

They both went still when they heard footsteps in the hall.

"I'd put up a fight if I was you," Merle whispered before moving so that his body covered hers.

His mouth over hers muffled the exclamation she made and she thought she heard a derisive laugh as the person walked on by the cell. Merle was surprised to feel her body, which he was certainly well aware of, tremble with real fear. Hell, he'd warned her hadn't he?

He pulled back and stared down at her.

"Ya all right?"

"Can you move please?" Sinclaire was dismayed to hear her voice shaking as much as her body.

"Yeah," he sat up and looked at her curiously. "Ya a dyke or somethin'?"

"What? No! I just…I just don't like to be…you know…touched. That's not the point. What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," Merle admitted. "They ain't too smart if they trust me already…and I kinda think they might be pretty smart. I thought we'd wait it out. I got three nights with ya. We'll go for it on the third night."

"Go for what?"

"Bustin' outta here. Which I ain't never done. I been in places like this plenty of times, but I usually just waited on Daryl to come bail me out. If I'd known I'd wind up breakin' an Injun chick outta prison I'da done my research better," Merle informed her.

"You're an idiot."

She said it with a smile.

"Now, I gotta go. Ya gotta remember to look like ya hate me," he reminded her. "And maybe ya oughta talk to that Candace woman. She might know somethin' we don't. Don't talk to Monica though…she's…"

"I know," Sinclaire cut in. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Night."

"Night."

Merle did his best to remember to look triumphant, rather than thoughtful for the group when he'd come back from Sinclaire's cell.

"Aw, don't look like that," he said, smacking Patrick in the back when he gave him a sullen look. "You're gonna love her. Puts up a good fight. Not even sure I coulda handled her without a cage."

He didn't get much sleep that night though. They'd already planned to kill him and he wasn't just gonna take their word that they weren't still thinkin' about it. He lay there remembering how she'd felt under him. It was weird; her body had trembled as she'd stiffened in reaction and it made him uneasy. Why had she been so scared? Why the hell did he care about it one way or the other? He didn't want her specifically. Yeah, Sinclaire was hot…but he just didn't see it happening between them. Maybe because he was so preoccupied with the thought of dying.

Well, he wasn't about to die right this second—hopefully—so he decided to think on it for a moment. Were they friends? He guessed maybe they were. It was a weird way to think of a woman. Women, in his experience, were good for one thing and it sure as hell wasn't cooking. His friends had always been men like him. Ex-military, hard drinkin men who didn't mind sharing their cocaine with him as long as he didn't take too much of their supply and bought a round or two before they had to stumble home to the women they'd been dumbass enough to saddle themselves with. They usually staggered out informing him of how smart (or lucky depending on the man who said it) he was for having stayed single.

Merle sort of smiled thinking back on it. He'd been pretty damn smug about it, but to tell the truth…he might not have had a woman, but he sure as hell wasn't alone. He had Daryl.

He couldn't even count the times he'd staggered into the trailer to find Daryl either asleep on the couch or vacantly watching late night infomercials. Whether he found his brother awake or asleep, Merle always said the same thing.

"Wait up for me Darylina?"

Daryl's reply varied; it was either a sleepy, "Fuck you," or an irritated, "Just couldn't sleep."

Merle would laugh and Daryl would stomp down the hall to his room. Merle usually made it as far as the couch before his legs gave out. In the morning Daryl would make bacon; not because he wanted Merle to eat, but because he was hoping to make him feel sick. It worked about half the time and Daryl would crunch his (extra crisp) bacon with an innocent expression as Merle made his way to the bathroom. Huh. Thinking back on it, maybe that was why Daryl didn't mind the sound of hurling. Maybe it was the sound of victory to him.

Merle snorted with repressed laughter. This was the most he'd thought about Daryl in a long time. The fact that he'd done it in the middle of figuring out if he wanted to fuck Sinclaire it had also been enlightening. Daryl had certainly never crossed his mind around a woman he wanted to bang. He guessed they were "just friends."

Sinclaire lay staring at the ceiling. She wished she hadn't flipped out like that when Merle had pushed her backward. She shivered just remembering what it had felt like. Merle was a lot bigger than her…the memory of his weight pushing her into the mattress, of his lips over hers in a passionless kiss…her stomach turned over.

It wasn't that Merle was awful or anything. Okay…maybe morally not the greatest, but who the hell was she to judge? Attractiveness wise…she was as ambivalent toward him as she was toward everyone else. She forced her thoughts away from that and onto possible escape routes.

The jail was set back from the highway and the embankment leading up to the highway was steep and there were no convenient places to hide on the way up it in case someone opened fire on them. There was another exit at the back that led to a smaller highway and a wooded area. Praise the whole fucking South for the abundance of wooded areas.

The next morning Candace brought her breakfast.

"Anything in here I should know about?" Sinclaire asked.

The woman blushed and looked down.

"I'm sorry…"

"Hey, don't worry about it. I figure we're in the same situation. I'm not planning to stick around either. What can you tell me about getting out?" Sinclaire decided to be blunt. The truth was usually the fastest way to an answer.

"Getting out?" Candace whispered. "What's the point?"

"The point is that I'm not okay with being raped and you shouldn't be either. I'd take you with me."

"It doesn't matter anymore," tears filled the woman's green eyes. "James is gone…"

"James?" Sinclaire played dumb so as not to blow Merle's cover.

"My real husband. Will killed him. I don't care what happens to me now."

Before Sinclaire could answer, Candace walked away, tears streaming down her cheeks. Fuck. She'd already given up. The day whiled away long and dull. Sinclaire wondered where her gun was. It was pretty lucky that she'd left her vest in the truck; she'd never have managed to get it back. She and Merle would have to be ready at a moment's notice.

Merle figured that they would hit the road at night. He figured he could sneak her out the back. He figured that she would keep things calm until he was ready. He figured that he would just enjoy himself in relative comfort and wait for the right moment.

He figured wrong.

Later that day, Will came by Sinclaire's cell.

"Hey there Princess," he said cheerfully.

"Don't call me that," she replied. "What did you do with those women's husbands?"

"Monica really is Donny's wife," Will answered. "And Candace…her husband didn't feel any pain. We were nicer than we could have been. I know that soon you'll be enjoying Patrick just as much as she enjoys me."

"You really think she enjoys you? You think she sits around dreaming about being raped by the man who murdered her husband? Let me ask you this…are you brain damaged or just fucking stupid?"

His face darkened with anger and he opened the cell door, stepping in and close to her.

"Watch what you say. I don't like it when ladies swear."

"Fuck you, you cocksucking son of a bitch," she let her voice rise into a yell. "What are you scouting for women for anyway? You boys run out of lube? Or do none of your buddies swallow just the way you like?"

He swung for her jaw; she ducked the punch and spun, sweeping his legs out from under him. Why the hell had she thought hand to hand fighting wouldn't come in handy in an apocalypse? She drew back and kicked him in the face, knocking him out cold.

Before she could take two steps out of the door, Sam appeared.

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" he asked, leveling a shot gun at her chest.

"Just what the fuck does it look like?" she hissed.

Merle, who'd heard her yelling and walked over to the cell, placed the barrel of the M9 to the back of the man's head and pulled the trigger. Sinclaire leaped to the side to avoid being covered in blood and brain matter as Sam fell. Merle aimed again, putting a bullet in Will's head.

"No fuckin' way they didn't hear that. Get your ass in gear sweetheart," he ordered.

"Out the back," she said quickly. "Toward the road, into the woods."

"Sounds good to me," he started to run, pushing her in front of him.

Donny had been down the hall. He wasn't sure where the women were…and Monica was a wild card. He didn't know where Patrick was either…

The question was answered when one of the hall doors opened and Patrick stepped out. Sinclaire stopped and Merle ran into her.

"Were those…were you the ones shooting?" Patrick asked.

"Ya ain't too bright are ya?" Merle drawled. "I told ya she puts up a hell of a fight."

Patrick wavered for a moment, clearly hoping to save Sinclaire for future endeavors. It was enough to mean his death; Sinclaire moved as if she was going to run and in the split second his attention was elsewhere, Merle shot Patrick in the gut.

"God damn we're a good team sweetheart," Merle said, finishing the man off almost casually with a bullet through the brain.

Another door opened and Candace stuck her head out of the kitchen.

"Come with us," Sinclaire offered suddenly.

"What?" Merle and Candace asked at the same time.

"Come with us. Everyone but Donny is dead. And Monica. We didn't kill her either…this is the only chance you'll get."

"I…"

"What the fuck?" Donny's voice bellowed from down the corridor.

"Sounds like he just found Will and Sam," Merle shoved Sinclaire. "Get a move on now! You too if you're comin'."

Candace followed. They hit the door just as a gun went off behind them.

"Motherfucker!" Merle yelled.

"Are you all right?" Sinclaire asked as they ran.

"No I'm not motherfuckin' all right! Now there's a chunk outta my damn left arm," Merle snarled. "Just keep movin'!"

She didn't need to be told twice. Candace squealed when another shot rang out. Sinclaire gritted her teeth. God only knew what was living in the woods they were headed for; Merle was apparently bleeding now, and this woman was shrieking like a fucking banshee!

"Be quiet!" Sinclaire ordered.

When the next shot blasted the air Candace dove behind the open door of an abandoned car. Sinclaire yanked her up.

"That only works in movies. Those bullets will come straight through," she explained, taking the time to glance behind her. Donny was running after them.

"Fuckin' move!" Merle yelled.

Sinclaire noticed that he hadn't waited for her. Not that she could blame him.

"Fucking shoot him!" she screamed back.

Merle raised the gun; another shot sounded. Not from Donny. So Monica was the type to stand by her man. Of course supportive wife didn't always translate into good shot. She missed Merle; the bullet took a good chunk out of a nearby tree though.

Sinclaire ran, waving for Candace to follow her.

"Zig zag," she called. "Don't give them a predictable target!"

Merle waited at the edge of the woods, and then he had an idea. He stepped out and aimed. A shot dropped Donny. The bellow of agony told him it had been well placed. Right in the knee.

The gunfire stopped and he heard Monica scream for her husband. That oughta distract her long enough to save Sinclaire's ass.

Sinclaire ran headlong into the woods and straight into Merle's arms. She smacked him on the back and said, "Good one!"

"Thanks. That's a bullet hole you're huggin' on though."

"Oh. Sorry. Let's keep up the progress shall we?"

Candace stared at them.

"Where are we going to go?"

"We got a truck," Merle answered. "And I ain't gonna stand around bleedin' so all the fuckin' zombies in the area can smell it. Come on."

They jogged through the woods and up the embankment in an area that was pretty far from the jail, just in case. It was starting to get dark, but Sinclaire couldn't think of anything but the idea of safety in the box truck.

"Red Bronco, crack in the windshield," she muttered.

"What?" Merle asked, gritting his teeth at the pain radiating through the injury in his good arm.

"I threw the box truck keys into the grass near a red bronco with a crack in the windshield. We need to keep an eye out."

"That was fuckin' stupid. It's almost dark!"

"Well I thought they might have stolen our supplies otherwise," she snapped back.

"They would have," Candace confirmed through her gasps. "They stole our things. Donny was using a gun that belonged to James."

"Fucker," Sinclaire muttered.

"He'll probably die," Merle informed them. "Now let's get to lookin' for this Bronco."

It was full dusk when they found the vehicle. Sinclaire started looking through the scruffy grass and Merle joined her. They'd been looking for several seconds when Candace gasped sharply.

"What's up?" Sinclaire asked, not glancing up.

"I…it's…I've never seen anything like it," the woman continued.

Sinclaire sighed in frustration. Merle glanced over his shoulder and went still.

"Christ."

It Merle's horrified tone that turned Sinclaire's head. Zombies. A fucking…the only word that came to mind was herd. A herd of zombies shambled their way.

"Merle," she whispered.

"Find them damn keys," was all he said.

"It won't do any good! We're too far from the truck!"

"Whatcha suggest then?" Merle snarled. "That we just lay down and die?"

It was a good point. She dropped to her knees, sifting through the grass desperately in the half dark. Merle was doing the same thing. Candace was…Candace was gone.

"Where'd she go?" Sinclaire asked.

"Who cares? Keep lookin'!"

Her fingers touched the cold metal of the key ring as she heard the first scream.

"Oh no," she whispered.

She and Merle stood and looked down the highway a bit.

"She ran right toward 'em," Merle said in disbelief. "What the hell?"

They'd swarmed the woman; her screams made Sinclaire feel sick, they were so filled with agony. Suddenly words formed through the screams.

"Run! Run now!"

Merle's mouth dropped open as he realized that the woman was aware of the fact that she was providing a perfect distraction for the majority of those things. He glanced down at Sinclaire, who'd pressed her hand to her mouth in shock. He grabbed her arm and ran, skirting the bulk of the hoard by jumping over the concrete barrier separating the lanes. They made it to the truck, closing out the woman's last screams as the doors closed behind them.

Sinclaire covered her face with her hands and tried not to throw up. She was surprised when Merle reached out and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He pulled her against him and let her catch her breath. They'd gotten into the back of the truck to avoid being seen by any stragglers in the herd and her ragged breathing was loud in the stillness.

"I'm thinkin' we oughta sleep here," he said after a while. "It's dark and those fuckers…"

"Yeah," Sinclaire agreed. "What about your arm?"

She felt bad, but she'd completely forgotten it.

"Just grazed me. Might outta wrap it up though."

She did that and then they both lay down in the back of the truck, giving in to the sleep they'd been denied in the "safety" of the jail.