Chapter Twenty-Six: Congo Savanne III
**Merle**
"I swear to God if you don't get your damned gumbo eating, frog ass off these boards," Merle tiraded as Karen and Glenn unloaded the truck, or at least they were trying hard to unload the truck. "I'm going to clean your colon with my blade hand."
Flopped on top of the pile of lumber, the Lieutenant winced, but still managed a charming grin after it. "Mais, Merle, that almost sounds like you're coming on to me."
"Keep it up, smartass," Merle warned darkly.
Finding the Cajun wisely choosing to avoid pissing him off further, Merle glowered at the man as he carefully slid off the pile of lumber and limped his sorry ass over to where Daryl was actually making himself useful, stripping more branches for bolts for his weapon.
"You know, Grande Beede," the Cajun began, grunting as he eased onto the church steps, "I sometimes think we don't have enough time spent together, you and me."
"Thank fuck," Merle replied. "You'd find yourself stuck and bleeding like a pig within an hour. I don't put up with shit like my baby bro does."
"No," the Lieutenant replied, "but we never get the chance to stir up trouble, capon."
"I think you got yourself into enough trouble, dumb ass," Merle said, pointedly eyeing his neck wound.
"Yeah, but not with you," he retorted.
Merle sighed. "Just keep out from underfoot."
Before he could return to helping unload the truck, he spied Grace heading for the dorms, her face looking very dark. In fact, Merle would have beat cheeks out of her way had he been anywhere near her, she looked so foul.
Catching sight of the group of them on the church steps, she paused at the door to the dorms, Annie and her dog Boo at her heel, Grace seemed to huff, before heading towards them.
"Merle," she greeted coolly. "Daryl, honey, how are you feeling?"
Carol, who was about ten steps behind Grace, heading for the dorms, followed her, joining them quietly.
Daryl shrugged. "Fine."
"I'm fine too, magpie," the Cajun said with a suave grin.
The woman shifted uncomfortably on her feet, clasping her hands before her and bowing her head. "Good."
"You ladies beating some information out of that asshole in the infirmary?" Merle inquired.
"Of course not," Grace said quickly. "We were just paying a visit."
Carol nodded. "Checking on Milton."
Merle chuckled. "Checking in on his harebrained idea about breeding the hell out of the women folk?" He teased.
Grace's eyes snapped up to his face and she turned white as a sheet. "I don't know what you're talking about. Breeding women," she scoffed, "of all things."
"Breeding women?" The Lieutenant asked.
"No more of this talk in front of Annie, please," Grace snapped. "The very idea is…not something a young lady should bear witness to."
"Milton thinks," Merle went on, ignoring her with a small, proud grin, knowing full well he was pissing off the nun, "that the more women who bear children now—"
"Mister Dixon," Grace insisted firmly, "I'm sure where you come from talking about reproduction in front of a child is acceptable, but here in my convent you'll mind your tongue."
By this point everyone had stopped what they were doing to eye her, even Glenn and Karen had moved away from the truck to watch.
The former nun, realizing her outburst was a little too much, flushed and backed down nervously.
"Mister Dixon, please?" She asked softly.
Turning to the Cajun with a tiny grin, Merle found the soldier watching Grace with a quirked brow.
Taking Annie's hand, Grace quietly cleared her throat and scurried away, the dog at her heels, the little girl barely able to keep up.
Carol remained quiet, easing down beside Daryl.
Everyone was quiet for a bit, before Glenn cleared his throat. "What was up with that?"
Carol became the centre of attention as the one woman who was with Grace just prior to the outburst.
She looked uncomfortable. "She's been feeling a little sick all day."
"Sick huh?" Merle inquired, casting an accusing, mildly proud look at the Cajun. "Just in the morning or…?"
Before anyone could say anything about this, Noah came skittering up, his sneakers sliding over the grass, his hands falling to his knees as he puffed and wheezed. "Biter," he gasped, "near the gate."
"And?" Daryl demanded.
Karen, moving to calm her son, glanced around at them.
Noah, still struggling to catch his breath, shook his head. "He's acting real weird…just staggering about…in circles…like a mad dog."
This seemed to interest Merle more than just another rotting asshole, so he shifted on his feet, before making his way towards the gate, the others close behind him.
As he arrived at the wrought iron entrance, he peered through the bars to find an emaciated looking biter sort of dragging it's ass about like a confused old woman. It's greenish-grey face had been scratched at, with deep gouges raked into the paper-like flesh that remained to its skull. As the thing moved about in a wobbly circle, it continued to idly scratch at his face.
On the wall, with her rifle trained on it, Sister Mary Agnes spoke, "I was going to put him down, but…that isn't normal for one of those things, is it?"
"How long has it been since we last saw one around here?" Carol asked.
"About two weeks," Glenn answered. "Remember the one in the pretty dress?"
Frowning, Merle turned to the Asian. "When was the last time you saw one out and about?"
"Last week, but he wasn't in much better shape than this one." Glenn replied.
"Yeah, I saw one a couple of days ago out hunting, liking a walking skeleton, didn't put up much fight, but what the hell is this one doing?" Merle said, pointing to Beth who was on the wall beside Mary Agnes. "Go and get Milton, I want his brainy input. Sister?" He asked Mary Claire who was guarding the gate, "get this gate unlocked. I'm going to try and catch this thing before it tears off into the woods on us, someone get some rope."
"Sure you want to wrangle this uggie, capon?" The Lieutenant asked, as he and Daryl finally caught up with them, moving at their slow, limping pace.
"Hell," Merle replied, "you might get a show, dumb ass."
"Careful," Daryl said as Glenn ran back with a length of rope.
Beth raced over from the infirmary. "Mr. Mamet says you shouldn't touch him, he wants to observe it untouched."
"Well, he better get his ass out here then, because I don't know how long the damned ugly thing is going to stick around."
Wrapping her arms around her ribs, Carol scowled at the thing. "He doesn't even realize we're here." She observed.
As Milton was wheeled out of the infirmary by Father O'Rourke, who handed him over to Beth in order to get back to watching the new guy, Merle motioned to Glenn to get ready to catch the thing.
By the time Milton arrived at the gate, he was leaning in the wheelchair as it bumped over the uneven lawn of the convent, eager to catch sight of the thing.
Rick, handing Judith over to Mrs. Douglas, emerged from the dorms with her at the action happening in the yard and moved to join them. Grace and Herschel coming out of the building after them curious about the commotion the shuffler was causing.
At the last few yards to the gate, Milton, ignoring his injuries, leapt from the wheelchair and hobbled over quickly, eyes on the thing beyond the gate. Adjusting his glasses, he drew his mouth in a grim line, before smiling.
"I thought so," he murmured to himself, pulling out a notebook and pen. Handing the notebook over to Beth to hold, while he scribbled furiously in it with his good arm, observing the thing.
"What's happening with it?" Glenn asked.
"His brain's deteriorating, he's essentially dying right before our eyes," Milton replied hastily. "I figured the rate of decomposition was slower than ours, due to movement which simulated a mild form of blood flow to keep extremities working, but I didn't think they'd live forever. This one," he motioned to it as it faltered and fell to one knee, only to get back up and continue its wobbly path, "is on his last leg. Brain function is grinding to a slow halt right before our eyes. This is amazing. Do you realize what this means? This means we've effectively waited them out, a majority of them. There will always be stragglers, but this…this is good news!"
"So? What do we do about him?" Merle demanded.
Milton adjusted his glasses, still scribbling notes in the little book Beth held for him. "I'd like this specimen, if you would be so helpful, Merle?"
"Dead or alive?"
"Dead," he said. "I want to take a peek at his brain, see how badly deteriorated it is."
"And how do I kill him without damaging his brain?" Merle snarled.
"Just cut the head off, he can live all he wants, I just need the head right now anyways."
"A living walker head inside these walls?" Rick demanded. "That's a hell no."
"He won't be able to do much," Milton argued.
"It could still bite," Rick argued.
"You're a cop," Merle growled, heading for the gate. "Don't tell me you don't know what they do to biters in prison."
Rick sneered in mild disgust at the idea as Daryl turned to Glenn and sent him for a hammer and pliers.
..-~-..
..-~-..
That night, as Milton laboured over his newfound, rotting treasure, Merle managed to ease into a spot between Mrs. Douglas and Father O'Rourke around the campfire as a few of the others handed out the evening meal.
He was due to walk the wall in an hour, but wanted to just rest for a bit, get some food in his belly and enjoy the others who seemed to like to chat and sing and tell stories around the campfire in the moments when the world around them was dark and cold.
Since a lot of the responsibility had fallen on him, he had taken to sitting with them, to hear their concerns and worries. It wasn't like he gave a shit really, but he wanted to know where a lot of them stood.
It seemed the campfire was for being open and honest, some hippie bullshit, but he liked that it afforded him a way of eavesdropping that didn't end in him being punched or berated. Plus the Cajun would occasionally tell a good yarn or Beth would sing a song in that cute, high pitched voice of hers that while Merle continued to scowl through them, he found he enjoyed a little more than he should.
As Glenn strummed idly at a guitar he reclaimed from the antique store where they found the projector, Beth hummed at his side and began to sing an Eagles song as Mary Agnes walked over with a bowl of rice and rabbit for him.
Merle took the bowl with what he felt was a very charming grin, to which she tilted her head at him in acknowledgement, before returning to the kitchens of the dorms to get more.
Despite the empty gnawing in his gut, he handed his bowl over to Mrs. Douglas and pushed to his feet again to follow the nun, trailing her in the dark quietly.
"I know you're on my tail, Mr. Dixon," she said softly as they stepped into the shadows of the peach tree by the garden.
"Wasn't trying to hide it," he replied.
Turning, the woman waited for him patiently, even in the dark of night he could see her gentle smile and it encouraged him to smile back.
"You're really coming about, aren't you?" She asked.
"In what way?" He rasped.
"I mean, for us, you're doing good by us and for us, you've come a long way from that man who woke up cursing in our infirmary." She returned.
"I'm still that man, sister," he replied. "Though I feel decades older than him some days."
Slipping her hand into the crook of his blade elbow, the nun walked at his side quietly.
"You wouldn't cry rape if I kissed you, would you?" He asked.
She laughed. "You are direct, aren't you, Mr. Dixon?"
"I just don't want Officer Friendly to handcuff me to a roof again," he returned.
Arriving at the back door that lead straight into the dormitory's kitchen, Sister Mary Agnes turned to eye him in the soft candlelight that was pouring out of the window and her face was encouraging.
"I suppose, it would depend on the type of kiss and the reason why you'd want to kiss me," she said.
Merle frowned. "Well, how about I give you a kiss somewhere between Aunt Edith and panty soaker, because I think you're the only woman who doesn't look at me like I should be living in the belltower and throwing my own shit."
"The kiss sounds lovely," she said. "But the reason seems a little weak. Don't you love me at all?"
"Love has never factored into anything I've ever decided to do," he stated.
Mary Agnes looked a little disappointed by this and bowed her head. "I'm sorry you think like that, Mr. Dixon."
As she went to open the door to hurry inside, he quickly shut it again, manoeuvering himself between her and the door with a grin. "Of course, I've never been one to walk away from trying new things."
"And I've never been one for selling myself because a man thinks I'm the only shot he has at getting some sex," she returned softly, placing a hand on his chest and leaning in. "Try some tenderness, Mr. Dixon, it goes a long way in winning a woman's heart."
"Never been tender in my life," he said with a shake of his head. "I'm not planning on starting now."
"Then you'll never know tenderness in return, Merle," she pointed out, ducking under his arm and prying the door open enough to slip inside.
"Jesus," he growled to himself. How hard was that woman going to make him work for a fucking kiss? Fuck it, he thought, he'd find something easier to keep him warm.
By the time he got back to the campfire, Herschel was telling a story about the time he delivered triplet calves to a Brown Swiss and how the third calf born was a pain in the ass to pull out.
Across the fire from him, Daryl sat with Carol tucked against his side and Merle scowled. If a scrawny little runt like his baby brother could find some tail, why the hell couldn't he?
Hell, even the dumb ass coonass got himself some nun, though at the moment the woman was sitting beside the soldier looking like she'd be anywhere but, with her face drawn and looking downright spinsterly.
Merle took a look at his options of single women, if he was supposed to help the group by breeding then he wanted to lock his down ASAP. Michonne would probably still kill him with that fucking sword of hers if she had the chance, Karen, who made it clear that she wanted a man who'd accept her weak assed son as well, a handful of nuns who'd be just as much work if not more than Mary Agnes, Beth whose daddy would probably kill him if he even tried to talk to her alone and Andrea, who had slept with ol' Phil and obviously had no standards.
Andrea seemed like the pony he'd bet on. But that broken leg of hers - the one that had already gobbled up too much of their anti-biotics - would be a hard thing to handle when it came to a tumble in the hay.
So, with no real options, Merle decided his best bet would be to find a way to be tender with Mary Agnes. Of course, he'd have to be careful, if the other guys caught on to him being a pansy assed bitch, they'd horse laugh him right out of the convent.
missdaryldixon - Don't feel bad about laughing at Milton, half his lines were meant to be sort of awkwardly funny. He's kind of the nerdy type that gets too excited about SCIENCE! ^_^ Also, yes, yes I would totally allow the Lt. to breed me. Any kid had by him would only be a cute little devil.
vickih - Milton is adorkable!
Brazen Hussy - By now you should know that any Merle chapter is basically all yours. I hope you enjoyed it!
Claire Randall Fraser - I agree! Hey, weirder things have happened, right?
trinitee64 - I never thought of it like that. Good point.
Merle's Right Hand - Are you thinking Milton's source may be the same source that runs the gossip grapevine, because you may or may not be right.
Girl in a White Dress - Nice to see you caught up. Also thanks for the other kind reviews!
ldyjaydin - Not going to lie, but I want Milton to prove himself wrong about not having anyone interested. He needs a nerdy little lab assistant.
GG - Nah, me and creature from the Black Lagoon, we're tight. And the anaconda didn't want none, because I got no buns, hon.