Chapter Nineteen

Orders

Merle stared at the ceiling as the first signs of a new morning began to descend on Woodbury. The sunlight peeped through the gap in the blind, casting a golden haze around the room, and Merle could faintly hear the sounds of birds tweeting in the distance. Life at Woodbury was good, and even though Merle was appreciative of being allowed to have stayed in the small town for a few months, it had started to wear him down more than he realised. Merle rubbed his tired eyes, all hopes of sleep gone for another night.

It had become a normal thing for Merle; he would find himself spending hours tossing and turning and trying to fall asleep and when he finally found himself falling into a light sleep, it was morning and someone was banging on his door. Merle had allowed himself to open his eyes at the place he called home, and when alarm bells had started to ring loudly in his mind, he knew that he needed to acknowledge his surroundings. Everything that Merle had loved about Woodbury had become sour and it left a bitter taste in his mouth. It was only when he had first laid eyes on Anna that he knew she meant something. The army clothes were a huge indicator but it was also the way she presented herself that spoke volumes for him. The Governor had perhaps overlooked the stance in which she held herself in, and the way her eyes roamed around the room and observed the people in the room. She had been trained to analyse body language, to know a threat when it was right in front of her and to acknowledge her escape before she even laid eyes on anyone.

He could tell that she spent many years in the army, and The Governor, which Merle hated to say it, had probably messed with the wrong person. There was only so many times that The Governor could manipulate others, and this had been the wrong time.

A knock on the door stirred Merle from his thoughts, and he grunted as he slipped out of bed. He made his way towards the door, and opened it. Brandon, a young teenager who had been assigned to make wake up calls, was stood at his door. The boy jumped at the sudden force of the door opening.

"The Governor told me to tell you that..." Brandon took a moment to catch his breath. "He's expecting you."

"Thanks..." Merle said, to which the young boy nodded and walked away slowly. Merle shut the door and his mind immediately started racing.

It wasn't before long that Merle was dressed and was making his way towards The Governor's apartment. He was aware of the curtain being pulled aside and he could feel the cold stare of The Governor boring into him. He shook it off and made a mental note to keep calm.

Before Merle could even knock on the door, the door opened and The Governor appeared. The man took a moment to observe Merle before a huge, fake smile etched across his face.

"Ah, Merle! Come in, come in!"

Merle entered the apartment, noticing that the two of them weren't alone. Milton was sat on the couch notebook in hand, and Martinez was stood next to the window with his arms crossed.

"I was just telling the guys that something has popped up that can't be avoided and I'm unable to go with you today," The Governor announced. "It's such a shame."

Merle narrowed his gaze at the man. He was making it sound like they had plans to go out for a drink rather than trying to find the body of a woman that Merle had been ordered to kill but had in fact spared. The Governor had the gift of making things sound quite reasonable when in fact his intentions were so not clear.

"Martinez and Milton had offered to go along which I'm extremely grateful for," The Governor added. "It shouldn't take too long though, should it Merle?"

Merle shook his head. "Nope."

"Alright... then you better hit the road!" The Governor clapped his hands together in excitement.

The three men made a start to leave.

"Oh, and last thing boys..." The Governor began. "Bring back her head."

Bring back her head.

The four words raced through Merle's mind as if they were on a loop, and each time they did, he winced at the hatred in The Governor's voice. The man was like an excited puppy awaiting a treat for its good behaviour. Merle knew he had a small window of time before his secret would come out, and he was thinking of ways in which he would be able to cover his tracks. As long as he kept to the monologue he had conjured up, he would be fine.

The buildings whizzed by the window at such a fast speed that Merle remembered a time where we would go out in his banged up car and drive the hours away, with the whole world whizzing by his window. He smiled at the memory and felt an ache in his heart. Merle wasn't a sensitive soul, but even he felt sadness when he thought of the old world. The world had changed and even though the remaining inhabitants were free from the strains of life that consisted of jobs, money and relationships. Merle felt that they were still chained up with responsibilities, the fear of life and death, and the uncertainty of the future. It was the same as before, except the remaining inhabitants of the world were being chased by the decaying dead.

Who would've thought it? Merle thought. Bastards were always trying to tear him apart in the old world and now... they were still wanting a piece of him.

The world should have looked beautiful with the freedom that the remaining survivors had, but the world, in Merle's opinion, had become bleak.

Merle found himself thinking of Anna and Sophia at that moment. Sophia was alive... and so was Daryl. He always knew that Daryl would still be standing in a world like this one, regardless of any situation that the younger brother found himself in. But Merle, being the protective older brother, still had doubts. Daryl, other than himself, was a strong son of a bitch but the end of the world had put an end date on everyone. No one lived forever, and everyone, even Daryl, would die. Was it really true that, when the time came for it, everyone... the last one standing would still turn into one of those things? Would it start all over again?

Unless the son of a bitch had the guts to put an end to it, Merle thought bitterly.

His brother was alive. His brother... his little brother Daryl who he had watched grow up from the timid and shy little boy who followed his fathers orders to the fearless and thoughtful man that protected those he cared about. His brother... who was living at the prison that he had come across many times before.

He had been so close to his brother, and yet he was so far. The Governor had plans. The man always had plans that, on the surface, looked to benefit the whole of Woodbury but Merle knew a bastard when he saw one and The Governor... well, he stuck out like a sore thumb. The majority of inhabitants of Woodbury were blind sided by his generosity but there were a handful of people, Merle was sure of it, who could see through his lies and knew that The Governor only did things to benefit The Governor. He made people believe that they were his main priority but they weren't. They never were and never would be. The Governor wanted power and he had a whole lot of it.

Martinez coughed, catching his attention, and the redneck glanced towards the driver and watched him for a moment. The idea of Woodbury had been brilliant when Merle had been taken in all those months ago, with the promise of a salvation. As soon as he had entered the safety of Woodbury and his health and well being began to improve enough for him to truly acknowledge how great a place like Woodbury was in a world where all hope had been lost. But like everything, there was always a 'but'. And it wasn't before long that cracks soon began to appear and the foundation began to wither and flake away, and it was at that moment that Merle knew that all was not what it seemed.

The Governor was keeping a secret that everyone seemed to be oblivious to. It was written all over his face.

"How far to go?" Martinez said. Merle squinted out the window.

"Just another mile," Merle replied. "After the big sign."

Merle's eyes lifted towards the rear view mirror to where Milton was sat in the centre of the back seat, his hand moving furiously as he scribbled away in his notebook. The man was always either writing away or running after The Governor like a lost puppy.

"Ya drawin' dirty pictures there, Milton?" Merle joked, causing a chuckle to escape the man sitting next to him. "Ya lookin' a little flushed, and maybe broken a sweat."

"Unfortunately, Merle, I'm not," Milton answered, his hand ceasing for a moment.

"That's a shame," Merle replied. "I imagine you to be quite the horn-dog, Milty."

Milton pushed his glasses up his nose and thought for a moment. Merle could almost see the hamster running furiously on the wheel inside Milton's brain.

"My name is not Milty..." Milton replied. "It's Milton. And I'll have you know that I am taking notes of our journey."

"Boring!" Merle replied, feigning a yawn.

"Why do you always write stuff down?" Martinez interjected.

"Someone has to," Milton replied. "When the world is restored, future generations will be able to look back on this and know about the work that we did."

"Future generations won't be around," Merle said. "Hate to break it to ya, Milty. We're all gonna die. There ain't no cure."

"There has to be," Milton argued. "There has to be something or someone out there who knows something."

"Well there ain't," Merle said, shutting down the argument. "Write that down and maybe ya'll start to believe it."

Milton quietened then, and Merle could see the fear in the man's eyes. The subject of death without finding out if there was a cure or a chance to reverse the damage had dawned on the man at some point but Milton was adamant that someone had the answers to every question he had. And maybe, it was the hope that there were answers or maybe it was the thought that by doing something, the answers would appear out of nowhere and he would be one step closer to finding out the truth.

"Whatever makes ya sleep at night, eh, Milton?" Merle said, to which the man glanced at him and nodded. "Maybe ya will find the answers. Anything seems possible now that the dead roam the world. I bet no one could picture that up."

"Very true," Milton mumbled.

The three men fell into a comfortable silence and Merle bit his lip. He believed Milton when he said that someone somewhere had to know the answers. There was no doubt in his mind that someone had the cure, was working on the cure or was curing people. There had to be.

Merle smirked. "So, Milty... ever seen a naked wom-"

His voice trailed off as he sat up in his seat. The vehicle came to a halt too, and Milton glanced up at the sudden jerk of the vehicle as well as the silence that rang in his ears, and it was then that he saw it.

Three people stood in the middle of the road, guns aimed at the now stationary vehicle.