A/N: I'm flipping off AMC right now. That's all I'm gonna say about that.
Shoutouts!
astainintime: You're so right. Merle should have just told them to fuck off and kept the little guy as a pet. Merle deserves a zombie head pet, don't you think? I'm glad you like Merle! Thanks for reviewing!
BlackRose851: Thank you!
arrelmai: Thank you! Glad you liked it!
Brazen Hussy: Oh, what I wouldn't give to have that job of making sure that Merle got allll the head that he deserves. :) Thanks for reading/reviewing!
m0nalisa0ldalie88: Gah! Thank you! Your words are too kind! If you ever get a chance to meet one of the cast members, its so worth it. SOOOO worth it. I had a blast and I've been depressed all week because its over...lol. Thank you!
Lilone1776: Holy Review! Thank you! I always thought that the Dixons fit in perfectly right smack dab in the middle of a ZA. I'm so glad that you find my story amusing and that you thought I did a good job on Merle. :) Thank you!
TearsOfTheForgotten: You'll get to see more walkers in this chapter! :) Hope you like! Thank yooooou!
middlekertz: I'm not going to give anything away but I knew from the beginning who Emma is going to end up with. That will become obvious about halfway through. :) Hope you stick with me! Thank yoooooou!
Disclaimer: So mad at AMC that I might intend to infringe their ass this chapter but I don't need the legal troubles. Bitches.
Chapter Ten
Merle threw the axe down onto the floor and the only description that Emma could think of when describing the stuff that flew off of it, as it impacted with the hard wood, was "goop". The black goop oozed from the head of the thing that had broken into Emma's house and tried to…attack her. Its eyeball was hanging out of its socket by a thread of flesh and it looked eerily too human.
And that freaked her the fuck out.
"Oh my God…Oh my God…Oh my…" She chanted, ignoring the pain in her palm as she continued to clutch onto Max's collar. "We just…we just killed someone."
"Jesus, lady, ya don't hafta act all crazy over this, do ya?" Merle asked, not attempting to hide his annoyance. "The fucker was tryin' ta kill ya!"
Daryl started pacing. "How does somethin' like tha' happen? Ya cut its head off, Merle." He ran his fingers through his dark blonde hair and started pacing a little bit faster. Merle rolled his eyes and his shoulders slumped. "I mean, you cut its fuckin' head off and it kept—"
"I know, I was here, ya idiot! I saw it!"
"Then…" Daryl hesitated, trying to pull himself together with a deep breath. "What tha fuck was tha'?"
"Clark Hudson," Emma answered, taking a deep breath to keep the vomit rising up in her gullet at bay. "He's one half of the older couple that lives a couple miles down the road."
"Ya sure?" Merle asked. "I didn't recognize 'em."
Emma nodded and let go of Max but commanded him to stay by her side. Fighting his instinct to investigate, he obliged but as soon as she put her attention elsewhere, he was certain to head straight for the body. Oh God… the body!
"We killed him," Emma whispered harshly. "He was obviously sick and we…"
"You ain't thinkin' straight," Merle said, pointing a finger at her. "And you—" He pointed a finger from his other hand at his brother, "—git your head outta yer ass an' cowboy up."
"This is fuckin' crazy, Merle," Daryl said, as he absentmindedly put his hand on the hunting knife hanging from his belt.
"Ya got a TV, right?" Merle asked Emma. She shook her head. "Shit. Why ain't ya got a TV?"
She shrugged. "Hadn't gotten around to it, I guess."
"Well, ya been livin' here for like a year! At least we got an excuse why we ain't got no TV, with the lack of funds and all. What's yer excuse? Why ain't you got a goddamn TV?"
Emma put her hands on her hips and for a moment, she forgot that there was a headless body on the floor between them. "I have not been here for a year and it's my right not to own a TV."
"Well, maybe if ya owned a TV like normal folks, we woulda known what kinda situation we was in before we had ta kill a man ta get outta it!" He pointed to Clark's head in the fireplace. "It's yer own fault that guy got an axe ta tha head, ya stupid bitch!"
Emma sucked in a breath. The stench invaded her lungs and reminded her of exactly what they were arguing about. "Ugh. You're nowhere close to being right. I think that…Clark was dead before he arrived at my doorstep."
Merle made a disbelieving sound. "Ya mean tha' ya think he rose from the dead? Like in tha movies?" He started cackling, followed by a loud whoop. "Ya sure tha' I'm tha only one sniffin' up some ol' nose candy 'round here?"
Emma rolled her eyes. "How else do you explain the head?"
Daryl stopped pacing in his tracks. "Ya got a radio?"
Her eyes widened. "Yeah, upstairs," she replied. "I'll be right back."
Stepping around the body, and making sure that her dog followed her, she stomped up the stairs in a hurry. After a stop in the bathroom to heave up the contents of her stomach, she grabbed her radio and quickly went back down the stairs. She plugged it in and the three of them gathered around the radio like they were boy scouts crowding around warm campfire. Emma turned up the volume and she held her breath as the announcer continued with some breaking news.
"…Officials from The CDC are saying it's a rabies-like virus that gets into your bloodstream and affects your neurological system. They are asking people not to panic and to stay at home until this all blows over. They are issuing a level five emergency for those on the roadways due to the flow of infected individuals crowding the streets. This virus has spread so quickly that the only means to keep from being infected is to stay at home… I repeat, stay at home until you get further word from The CDC."
"Jesus," Emma breathed. "They didn't even tell us what happens to people after they're infected. Fuck!"
Daryl jumped at her outburst. "Tha hell?"
"The internet! Why didn't I think of using the damn internet?!"
She hopped onto her feet and sat down at the kitchen table; her fingers were fast to type in CNN's website.
"How come ya didn't find anythin' out on this thing before now?" Daryl asked, genuinely curious.
"All I usually use it for is for is to e-mail my…mom and my boss," she said and then as a bad-timed joke, she added, "and porn."
"Well, tha's good ta know," Merle chimed in next to a beat-red Daryl.
"I was kidding," she said.
"Sure, sure ya was." He nudged Daryl with his elbow. "Tol' ya she was a wild one, didn't I?"
Daryl showed his brother the longest finger on his right hand.
"Okay, it says here that when people are infected, they get a very high grade fever and flu-like symptoms." Emma swallowed hard as she thought about her mom in Florida. "It says that…that there is no cure as of yet but that The CDC is close to formulating a vaccine. Oh, God, Mom…"
Per usual, Merle ignored Emma's personal plea in regards to her mom. "So, how's it tha' people get this virus?"
Bile rose up in Emma's throat and she took a deep breath to close off her throat. "Uh…it says that people are… no, this can't be right."
"What?" Daryl barked. "What's it say?"
"It…It says that people are bitten, like rabies."
It took a moment for that to sink it with all three of them. The fact that people were biting each other and spreading an unknown, quick-spreading disease made Emma's fingers twitch for her phone. A bad feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as she recalled the conversation she'd had with her stepfather just a few hours prior to her encounter with Clark Hudson. She could always hold out hope that a different illness had taken over her mother's immune system but chances were that her mom was one of those that were infected. Tears filled her eyes and she tried desperately to blink them away but failed miserably as one escaped down her cheek. She looked up to see Daryl watching her with those squinty eyes but he looked away as soon as their eyes met.
"Is tha' why the trash-eater tried ta bite ya?" Merle asked. "So, the infection could spread?"
Emma shook her head. "People infected with a disease that affects the brain don't think rationally like that; it's not like the disease takes over and thinks for them. It's more primal than that. I think… I think he was actually trying to eat us."
"What for?" Merle asked.
"Hell if I know," she replied.
They marinated in that information for a moment, contemplating the best course of action. Finally, Merle nodded once to his brother. "We gotta get outta here. Go up to tha cabin and hang for a bit."
Daryl glanced at Emma and then returned the nod to his brother. She opened her mouth to argue but what basis did her argument have? They owed her nothing. In fact, she owed them for saving her life just minutes ago.
"Before you go, I—"
"Oh no," Merle cut her off. "Don't think that ya can just hop on board the Dixon train and ride this thing out on our coat tails, princess. Ya ain't goin' nowhere with us."
"I was going to say that—"
"We don't give two shits about nobody 'cause nobody gives two shits about us, sweetheart. There ain't no all for one and one for all in our household 'cause we watch out for ourselves so don't even try to push out those tits or shake that ass to try and catch a ride cause it ain't gonna work." Just in case she did make an attempt, Merle took a long look at Emma's chest but unfortunately for him, she crossed her arms over it. "Ain't nothin' free."
"What I was going to say was thank you, you moron." The Dixon boys blinked at her twice. "For saving my life."
Obviously, the words "thank" and "you" hadn't been said to them very often because it was as if she were speaking a foreign language. They shuffled around a bit and avoided eye contact. At one point, Daryl started kicking around a piece of flesh on the floor that had fallen off of some part of Clark.
"That's all," she said, finally.
They flew out the door, Merle in the lead, just as Emma reached for her phone. It was hard to ignore the body on the floor and she'd take care of it eventually but first she had to check on her mom and make sure that Charlotte was locked up safe. She called Frank's cell phone multiple times, getting his voicemail with each call. She growled and called her mom's phone. Nothing. Tears were streaming down her cheeks by the time she managed to dial her daughter's phone.
"Hello?" Emma's stomach tightened at the sound of Charlotte's panicked voice.
"Char!"
"Mom! What's going on? They're, like, locking down the city or something! They won't let us leave!" Charlotte was typically a cool cucumber under pressure but in this instance, she was more flustered than a whore in church. "I don't know what to do!"
"Just…just stay there, baby, okay? Do what they say and don't let anyone in who is sick, okay?"
"Yeah, they said that people are eating each other," she said with a shaky voice. "This is real, right? Is this real or am I dreaming? Please tell me that I'm having a horrible nightmare."
"Listen, Charlotte, go get as much food as you can and a big pot and then go to your room and stay there. Lock the fucking door and don't go anywhere, understand?"
"Yeah, what's the pot for?"
"What did I just tell you, Char?"
"To get as much food as I could, a big pot and… oh gross! You want me to go to the bathroom in a pot? That's disgusting! How can—"
Emma rolled her eyes and groaned, cutting the young girl's rant off. "This is deadly serious, Charlotte. Just do what I say, for once, please! I'm…I'm going to come get you, okay!"
"You promise?"
"I'll be there as soon as I can. Maybe by tonight or tomorrow morning but promise me that you won't leave that bedroom so I know where to find you." Emma was two seconds from breaking down and bawling her eyes out but she kept her voice strong and steady to keep her daughter from going to pieces. "I'm coming for you, baby."
Charlotte cried into the phone and sniffled a little before saying, "I love you, Mom."
"I love you, too." Emma wiped her cheeks and blew out a deep breath away from the phone. "Be safe."
Emma had packed everything she could think of that would get her to Athens, Georgia where Charlotte was. It normally took her a little over 90 minutes but there was no telling how long she'd be stuck in traffic with the panic of the virus in everyone's head. With extra clothes, emergency road kit, extra gas can, first aid kit, her daddy's hunting knife, and she grabbed her bow for good measure, she felt more ready than she'd ever be. Breathing through her nose, she covered the headless body in her living room with a tarp; as much as she'd like to get it out of her house, she didn't have time to deal with it. Then she put Max in the bathtub and gave him a good bath, complete with a five minute spray in the mouth. She discovered during that bath that she had a very active gag reflex but there was no way she was traveling in a car with him for two hours with pieces of human flesh between his teeth.
Surprisingly, after Max's bath, she decided that she needed to eat before hitting the road so she turned on her radio while she flipped a grilled cheese sandwich in a skillet on the stove. It was odd how they were playing music in such a spastic time but it was sort of calming since Emma assumed that they'd never play Roy Orbison's 'Pretty Woman' if this was a real catastrophe. When her grilled cheese was done, she grabbed a handful of chips and sat down at the table just as Roy was wailing out the last few notes. Then the next song came on and she froze, mid-bite—it was Roy Orbison, singing 'Pretty Woman'…again. When she was done with her sandwich, he started singing it a third time and when she was stomping out her back door into the dark, he'd just began singing it for the fourth time.
A ball of emotion clogged up her throat when she saw the old Chevy still parked in front of the Dixon's trailer. She found Merle in the garage, prepping his motorcycle for what looked to be a long ride out to the middle of nowhere. Daryl was loading bags and a few guns into the back of his pickup, shooting a scowl her way as she approached.
"There's something really wrong," she announced.
Merle gave her a look. "No shit, sweetheart."
She shook her head. "No, I mean… I think the radio station has been abandoned. They keep playing the same song over and over again. This is bad. Really fucking bad."
Daryl snorted. "DJ prob'ly had ta take a big ass shit or somethin'."
"For thirty minutes?!" Emma exclaimed. "This isn't going to just blow over in a couple of weeks like they're saying! This is…Oh my God, I have to get to Charlotte."
Merle hopped up, his jaw clenched as he looked at her. Emma had to admit that he was pretty freaking scary as he approached her with his chest puffed out and those blue eyes narrowed in her direction.
"Who's Charlotte?" Daryl asked, scrunching up his face.
"She's m-my…" Emma stuttered as Merle stood over her, glaring at her in warning. "M-my friend. She's in Athens and I can't just…just leave her." Tears formed in Emma's eyes as she thought about how scared and alone Charlotte was. "I have to go get her."
Merle looked impressed. Daryl shook his head as he looked between his brother and Emma.
"Why ya so worried about someone who's jus' a friend? Ya look like yer gonna start bawlin' yer eyes out."
Emma knew that Daryl wasn't stupid and he apparently remembered enough about her to know when she wasn't being honest. In fact, her inability to lie had gotten her into some serious trouble in her lifetime but she was determined to not make this one of those times. Her motivation stood in front of her in the form of a six foot redneck with no qualms about slicing a knife across her fragile little throat.
"Uh…well, she's a really good friend. In fact, she's my niece."
"How tha hell ya got a niece? Ya didn't have no brothers or sisters."
Oh shit. Think quicker on your feet, you idiot!
Emma made a weird sputtering sound through her lips to buy her lie-time. "She's my niece by marriage."
Merle looked a little sick at how horrible she was at lying and she tried to tell him with her eyes that she was shitty at this and it was his fault for keeping secrets from Daryl. He silently replied by staring harder at her and clenching his right hand into a fist.
"Why don't yer husband go an' git her then?" Daryl asked.
Oh, what tangled webs we weave…
Merle was such a frightening distraction that she nearly answered Daryl with, "What husband?" But instead, she found herself saying, "He's dead. Died a long time ago and now it's up to me to take care of his niece."
After a few beats of staring and silence, Daryl waved a dismissive hand in her direction. "Well, whatever. Go an' git yer niece er whoever. Good fuckin' luck."
With pride in his eyes, Merle clapped his brother on the back and made a clicking noise with his tongue. "I do believe ma lil' brother spoke fer tha both of us, princess."
Emma thought about what it would be like traveling to Athens by herself in this sort of panic. Even with Max, it would be a rough ride and she only had a dull hunting knife and a bow—that she wasn't so great at—to defend herself. What if she got to the school and she had a bunch of infected people to deal with before she could get to Charlotte? How was she going to get to her without getting herself killed in the process?
"Wait!" She screeched as Daryl put the last of the bags into the truck. Merle had settled himself down beside his motorcycle again. "Please! Help me find her!"
Daryl snorted. "Hell with tha', woman."
Emma started to panic. Merle groaned out of annoyance and pushed off the ground; he put his hands on his hips as he headed toward her, ready for whatever needed to be done to get her out of his way.
"No, I need help," she pleaded. This time, she looked at Merle who knew that what she was asking was so much more than what she'd told Daryl. This was her daughter, her life, his niece that she needed to go rescue. She hoped that with all that talk about "being loyal to kin" in The Dixon household held water because it was her only shot. "She's by herself and…and scared and I have to go get her."
Merle read her silent plea, loud and clear; she could tell by the half-smirk, half-sneer that littered his face in response. "Ain't nothing free, darlin'."
She swallowed as tears fell down her cheeks. "Come on! What do I have to do! It's a short trip and then you can be on your way to the middle-of-nowhere in no time! I'll get down on my knees and beg if I have to!"
That was the wrong thing to say to Merle Dixon. He let out an obnoxious whoop. "Now, we're talkin', girlie! How 'bout getting' down on them pretty lil' knees right now for a down payment!" He finished the performance by starting to undo his belt.
"Christ, Merle! Let's just git the hell outta here," Daryl grumbled.
Emma wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand and thought about giving up. For a brief moment, she considered whoring herself out to get their help. She'd been through some rough financial times in her life and never even considered—
"I'll pay you!" She proclaimed. "I have money!"
That made Merle's smile drop into an expression of consideration. "How much?"
Emma looked from one brother to the next, silently calculating how much she had in her savings account in addition to her checking. "Ten grand."
"Ya got ten grand ta jus' hand out?" Daryl asked, with wide eyes. "An' yer jus' gonna give it to us so you can git to your…niece?"
"I'm not rich or anything but I have savings and she's worth much more than that." Emma wondered in that moment when she would learn to just say what was necessary instead of being all dramatic.
"How much more?" Merle asked.
Emma swallowed something heavy. What she wanted to say and what she could say were two different amounts because she wasn't rich but she'd give just about anything to get to Charlotte. She felt a million miles away from her and it physically hurt to think of spending more time than necessary without her. Those Dixon boys would get her there and it didn't matter what it cost her.
"You want everything I have?" Emma asked.
"Tha' was a stupid question," Daryl pointed out.
Merle grinned all toothy-like. "Damn straight, sweetheart. I'm puttin' my pretty neck on tha line, I want it all."
"Okay, I have twenty-two thousand dollars in my savings account and about two thousand in my checking." Daryl whistled through his teeth and Emma shrugged. "I'm frugal."
"Tha' sounds like a fuckin' deal, woman!" Merle said and held his hand out toward her. "Let's shake on it."
She rolled her eyes and put her small hand in his larger one. He pulled her close to him so that he could whisper harshly into her ear. "Don't ya fuck this up, ya hear?" She nodded. "Alright, then."
With a quick exhale, she pulled away from him. "I'm going to finish packing up."
"Okay, lil' brother, let's make us some moolah!" Merle announced.
Daryl started to argue as she started to walk away; it was too hushed for her to make out the exact words but it was clear that he wasn't on board with Merle's business deal. Sure, Daryl could have ventured out on his own and left Merle to deal with Operation Rescue-The-Nonexistent-Niece on his own but he wouldn't. Because blood meant everything to Daryl and Merle was blood. Emma couldn't help but wonder, as she approached her back door, what his reaction was going to be when he found out that he had blood elsewhere too. Merle's threats or not, she was going to have to tell him.
By the time they got all packed and ready to go, it was after 10pm which they were hoping that traveling by night, would make things a little easier—less traffic and people. The way they decided to head out was Emma driving her SUV following behind Daryl driving the Chevy. Merle's motorcycle had been guided into the back and they'd strapped it in more carefully than an overprotective mother buckles in her newborn.
Max was typically a good traveler but picking up on his master's nerves made him a panting, shaking mess. He wobbled around in the backseat of the moving vehicle, moving from window to window in an effort to keep lookout for whatever it was that was making Emma so nervous.
The typical drive was scenic and peaceful, complete with fresh green trees and country roads. Everything seemed normal as they made their way out of Milledgeville and she was beginning to regret even asking for help from the brothers. This was going to be the easiest money that Merle ever made and that was saying something since he sold crack for a living. Emma turned up the radio, which was now on an automated emergency announcement. It wasn't the most comforting thing but occasionally, they'd throw in some new information. While driving, she wrote down an address they announced for a refugee center in Atlanta just in case she wasn't going to be able to make it back home for some reason. It was probably a good plan, so she could be around the people who knew what was going on; possibly, be the first place they'd issue a vaccine as well. Max gave her a lick up the side of the face which made her realize that dogs probably wouldn't be welcome there and there was no way in hell that she'd leave him behind. Perhaps a hotel in the Atlanta area would make an exception… Emma shook her head because she was getting ahead of herself. First, she had to find Charlotte.
Everything seemed to be going smooth until they got to the bypass and they slowed down, almost to a stop. Emma looked around the Chevy to see a pileup of cars that had gotten into an accident blocking the road. It was unnervingly quiet and the dark made her look around the surrounding woods for a dude with a chainsaw and a mask made of skin. Daryl and Merle got out of the truck and Emma followed suit, commanding Max to stick to her side. She grabbed her flashlight before she closed her door as quietly as she could.
They walked up to the pile of wreckage, and studied it for a minute. Their only light was coming from their headlights so it was hard to see the details but one thing was certain—they weren't getting through this way until they moved one of these cars.
"We should make sure that there isn't anyone injured in these cars," Emma said, starting to walk forward.
Merle reached out and grabbed her arm. "We ain't here ta be superheroes. Our plan is ta move tha' Honda and squeeze around the wreckage that way." He pointed around the right side of the road with the hand that wasn't wrapped around her elbow.
"I'm just gonna have a peek," she said, pulling her elbow out of his grasp.
He grabbed it again and squeezed, instantly bringing up bad memories for Emma so she overreacted by the gesture. Her heart raced as she tugged her arm from out of Merle's hand and slapped him across the face before she could stop herself. Merle's eyes widened into a murderous glare and he stepped toward her; she held an arm up in front of her face to protect any incoming attack. Max stepped between them, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
"Hey! Let's git this done!" Daryl yelled. "Ain't got time for this shit!"
Merle gritted his teeth and Emma's eyes fell onto the reddening handprint starting to form on his cheek. Immediately, she felt regret and shame and disgust for herself. She'd had that same mark on her body in the past, only it came from a different, more aggressive hand than her own. There was no reason for her to hit Merle; her overreaction brought up wild, harsh memories that she'd wished to keep bottled up for the rest of her life but they were surfacing now. As were the tears that threatened to pour from her eyes; she wanted to sob like a baby but something in Merle's expression stopped her. As his eyes darted over her face, the severity of his expression almost softened to a point of…was that understanding? Of course it was. As different as Merle and Daryl were from Emma, there was still a common denominator—they'd all been beaten by someone who should have loved them. The fact that Merle caught sight of that by just looking in her eyes was astounding and gave Emma new insight into the kind of man that he really was.
"Ya hit me like that again and I'll kill ya," he said calmly.
Or maybe he just wanted that money bad enough to hold off on the retribution aspect of that smack.
Emma opened her mouth to speak but nothing would come out. Instead, she called her dog off and ordered him to follow her as she flipped her flashlight on and began looking through car windows. Resigned to let her do whatever the fuck she wanted, Merle leaned against Daryl's truck, pulled out his goodie bag and lit up a joint.
Daryl followed Emma, occasionally opening car doors and taking things that would be useful like first aid kits or full water bottles. It didn't feel right to take it because there were still laws, even though the world had gone to hell, Emma thought. But the owners of those cars were accounted for; not alive but dead and strapped into the driver's seats of their cars. One of them had an obviously crushed skull from the hitting the steering wheel. His open eyes stared blankly into the dark sky as if he were waiting for something magical to happen. Emma felt her chest tighten when she noticed the kid's toy on the floor in the back seat; some little kid was going to grow up without a Daddy. The other driver, a middle aged woman, had been vaulted through the front windshield and into the grass. It had been a head-on collision and both drivers appeared to have died on impact. Emma put her hand on the hood of the Honda and gasped when she felt that it was still warm. These people had died just minutes before they came across them.
She jumped when she heard a soft moaning coming from the car she was touching. Jerking the flashlight up, she lit up the inside of the vehicle and held her breath. Daryl pulled his hunting knife out of its place on his belt and held it up like a pro. They both ducked and squinted to see who…or what the noise was coming from.
"Oh my God…" Emma whispered. "Is he…still alive?"
Daryl cut his eyes to her. "He's about as much alive as Clark Hudson was."
A chill ran up Emma's spine. She'd been hoping that Clark Hudson was the first and last person she'd ever run across that had risen from the dead. Anxious, she peeked at the woman's body in the grass just to be safe and she appeared to be completely dead.
"He musta been bit," Daryl mumbled as they both moved closer to the now-thrashing man inside the car. The window was rolled down and with the light from the flashlight Emma could see the drying blood plastered all over the side of the guy's head. As soon as he laid eyes on them, he put his nose to the air like a dog and inhaled before he started chomping his jaw like a madman. "He jus' took a big whiff of us an' now he wants ta eat us."
Emma shrugged stiffly. "Must be my new perfume."
"What we got here?" Merle asked from behind them and they parted so he could see the guy in the car who was going crazy trying to figure out how to get the hell out of the car so he could try to eat them. The seatbelt dug into his chest as he pulled forward toward them; apparently people lose their problem solving skills when they come back from the dead because there was zero effort from the guy to try and get the strap off. "Ooh, ya caught us a biter! This here's a nice opportunity to learn a bit about our enemy, shall we?"
He pushed his way between them and held his hand out for Daryl's knife as the dead guy finally got both hands outside the window and was clawing at the air. It was apparent right away that these things were not smart at all. As she suspected, their reactions were primal and instinctive. "Let's see what happens if I do this…" When the biter has his arm outside the vehicle, Merle plunged the knife into its bicep and quickly pulled his hand away. It had zero reaction. It didn't even try to pull the knife out of the muscle or scream in pain. The only reaction it had was to keep clawing at the air in an effort to get to the live people. To feed. Emma's stomach turned as Merle reached in quickly and pulled out the knife. "Or how 'bout this…" For a stoner, Merle was pretty quick on his feet. He stuck the knife in deeply right in the dead guy's throat and there was the same reaction—zero pain and no desire to get the knife out of its throat, almost like it didn't even know it was there.
Unfortunately, with all the thrashing around it was doing, it jiggled the knife loose and it fell to the floor of the vehicle.
"Damn, Merle! Tha' was ma good knife!"
"Don't pitch a god damn fit, Daryl or I'll send you to ride in that gas guzzler with the ladies!" Merle exclaimed. "We'll git yer precious knife back."
Emma wanted to argue about Merle's plural usage of the word "lady" because Max was certainly no lady; just because he'd had his balls cut off didn't mean that her canine was any less masculine. However before she could manage to argue, something wrapped around her ankle and yanked. She yelped as she toppled to the ground, hitting the back of her head against the concrete. For a short period, she thought she may have been dreaming all of this—the world grew fuzzy and the stars were bright in the sky above her head. She may have even smiled a little at the peaceful, crisp night above her. Until something blocked out that view; that something was yet another seemingly dead thing coming to life. Before the used-to-be woman opened its jaw and started chomping toward Emma's neck, she muttered a colorful curse and her world went black.
A/N: I know, I know...another cliffie. Sorry about that. Kinda. Sorta. Not really.
Emma is in pretty good hands. I wish I was her for just a moment. I would have taken Merle up on that whoring out thing that he offered.
What did ya'll think? How weird is Emma that she's eating with a dead zombie laying on her living room floor? Do you think she'll get bit? Who do you think is going to come to her rescue? Who wants to go skinny dipping with the Dixon brothers (trick question to see if you're still paying attention)? Leave me a review! Thanks for reading!
See ya soon, ya'll!
