Thank you for again for taking the time to read this. It gladdens my evil little heart.
"Daryl loves this room," Glenn said as he stepped into the wood-paneled den with Merle behind him.
Merle whistled between his teeth as he his eyes scanned the room. He walked around in the den, slowly inspecting the taxidermy mounts, running his hand across the bobcat's back and gently caressing the smooth, curved tines on one of the white-tailed deer head's antlers.
Glenn watched as Merle examined the room. He noticed how Merle stopped to run his hand over the animals and how he lingered near a couple of them and seemed to look at them for a long time. There was something different about Merle as he walked around in this room and at first Glenn couldn't put his finger on it. They had been in the room for about five minutes and Glenn had lowered himself onto one of the leather couches when it suddenly hit him.
Merle, loud, abrasive Merle, hadn't spoken a word since entering the room. He had been totally silent.
Glenn's eyes followed Merle as he approached the large stone fireplace and ran his hand across the smooth surface of the maple mantle. Merle stood still for a moment, his hand resting on the mantle, before he walked over and sat himself down in the leather chair across from where Glenn sat on the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table.
Merle's had a blank look on his face and Glenn couldn't keep silent for another second. "So, what do you think?" he asked as he leaned forward on the couch.
Merle glanced around the room again. "I think I just found the cabin in the woods of my dreams all stuffed into one room and that someone built a house around it." he said. "Of course Daryl is mighty taken with this room. I'm surprised he didn't move right in here."
"He likes to spend time in here and when Andrea and Carol fixed up his room they brought a couple of the animals downstairs and stuck them in his room."
Merle grinned. "I noticed he had a bobcat in there." He pointed at the raccoon in the cut off tree in the corner. "That's the biggest damned raccoon I've ever seen. Look at that fuckin' thing. Almost as big as a damned bear." He looked around the room again. "Someone lay claim to this room an's usin' it as their bedroom?"
"No." Glenn said. "There's no bed in here. Carol, Beth and Lori don't really like this room at all. They all say the stuffed animals give them the creeps. That it looks like they're watching them with their glass eyes."
Merle chuckled and took his feet off the table. He stood up and stretched, then looked down at where Glenn sat on the couch. "You think anyone'd mind if I slept in here? Sorta made this my temporary bedroom?"
Glenn shrugged. "I don't see why not. The couches are probably comfortable enough and no one ever comes in here, anyway, except Daryl and sometimes Carl."
"Couch you're sittin' on is a sofa bed." Merle told Glenn. "That should be plenty comfortable enough for me."
"This?" Glenn said as he pointed down at the couch, "This isn't a sofa bed. It's just a plain old couch."
"Is so a sofa bed," Merle snapped. "Pull the cushions off and take a look."
Glenn stood up and stood there, looking down at the couch.
When Merle realized the dumb chink wasn't moving to look under the cushions he got impatient.
"Don't just stand there, dammit, hop to!" he said sharply.
Glenn pulled the leather cushions from the couch and sure enough, Merle was right.
"Told ya." Merle gloated as Glenn looked at him and smiled sheepishly.
Maggie stuck her head through the doorway just then. "There you are!" she exclaimed.
Glenn pointed to himself, "Who, me?" and then to Merle, "or him?"
Maggie entered the room. "Both of you," she said. "We have a problem."
"Derle?" Merle asked. "He take a turn for the worse?"
Maggie saw a worried look flash across Merle's face and then disappear. "No, not at all. He's in the shower." Maggie replied. "Here's the deal, though; I think Daryl's crossbow got left in the barn back at the farm. He asked me to bring it in from the truck before he stepped into the shower and I know he isn't going to be any too happy when he realizes that it isn't here."
Merle slapped his forehead with his palm. "Shit!" he exclaimed. "I leaned the damned thing against a beam in the barn when I was tendin' to 'im after he passed out. Dammit!"
Glenn looked at Maggie and then at Merle and said, "He doesn't really need it, does he? I mean, he has those cool pistols and we've got a lot of firearms here. Can't you just tell him it got lost?"
Merle glared at Glenn. "You kiddin'? You shoulda seen the fit he pitched right before we left Woodbury 'cause he did'nt have it. You'd a thought I'd asked him to cut out his left nut and leave it behind. Was like watchin' a two year old throw a tantrum."
Glenn giggled as he imagined Daryl rolling around on the floor, flailing his arms, kicking his feet and screaming and crying like a misbehaving toddler.
"An' don't get me started on them damned revolvers! What the hell is he thinkin'?! Dumbest weapons choice ever! Least the bow is quiet. Them Rugers is loud as hell. Only six shots per load and you have to manually discharge the used casings! Recoil on them big .44s is hell on the wrists, too. Fuckin' dumb ass brother a mine. Thinks he's a cowboy. Don't know what the dumb shit's tryin' to prove."
Maggie bit her lower lip to keep her from responding to Merle's derogatory comments about Daryl. She saw a devilish grin flash across his face as he watched her and she realized that he was baiting her. The jerk! He was trying to get her all riled up!
"I'm going to go to the farm and get it." she said.
"Get what?" said Andrea's voice from behind her. She stepped into the room and stood next to Maggie as she awaited an answer.
"We left Daryl's crossbow back in the barn at the farm." Maggie explained.
"Oooo." Andrea looked from Maggie to Glenn to Merle and back to Maggie. "Does he know?"
"You hear any real loud screamin' and cussin' comin' from his room?" Merle asked.
Andrea looked at Merle with confusion written all over her face. "No," she said.
"Then he don't know." Merle said. He sighed. "Guess I'll be makin' a road trip back to the farm." He walked toward the door. "Gotta put some gas into the truck first."
"I said I'd go. You can come with me, though." Maggie said. "and we can take the Hyundai. It gets better mileage and besides, I'm not done unloading your truck yet."
"Well shit, woman, you shoulda asked me for some help." Merle said. "I'm the one goin', though, an' you ain't comin' with me. I'd rather you stay here an' keep an eye on my brother. Distract him or somethin' until I get back with his damned toy crossbow." Merle thought of something and then smirked and added, " I know you two ain't seen each other for a few days, but he ain't in the best a health so don't be overdoin' it an' wearin' him out when y'all are bouncin' 'round in that big ol' bed."
Maggie's mouth dropped and her cheeks flushed.
Glenn's whole face reddened and he looked very uncomfortable.
Andrea giggled and then cleared her throat and turned to Merle. "I'll go with you." she volunteered.
"Me, too." Glenn added.
Merle nodded. "Okay, let's get goin' then. Any of the guns still in the truck?" Merle asked Maggie.
Maggie decided to let Merle have his own way this time and didn't argue with him about how he'd ordering her to stay behind. "Yes, a couple of commandos are still there and all the handguns Daryl took when he left."
"Clips for the commandos?"
"In the gun bag, also still in the truck."
Merle smiled and stepped out into the hallway. "Let's go then," he bellowed as he tromped down the hall.
Andrea and Glenn scurried after him.
Daryl stood up to turn off the shower. It had started to get cold about five minutes earlier and he shivered as he reached for the handle. He'd spent the last ten minutes sitting on the bathroom floor with his back against the river rock wall as the water fell on him. Ten minutes earlier he had been standing on one foot, bent over and holding his right ankle in his left hand as he examined the damage that tall bastard had done to it with the fuckin' hammer. There was a lot more bruising than there had been the day before but the swelling had gone down a bit. He pressed his left index finger against the indentation on the protrusion of his lateral malleolus and he winced. Shit that hurt. He could almost hear Merle's voice chastising him. "So why you touchin' it if it hurts, dummy?"
Daryl moved his finger along the bump and prodded it to see if the bone was stable and moved as if it was in one piece. He wasn't sure if it was because he was partially bent over or if it was because of how fucked up his head was, but everything seemed to tip sideways and he felt like the room was suddenly twirling around him. He immediately grabbed onto the river rock wall behind him and pressed his back against it before he slid himself down into a sitting position, stretching his legs out in front of him. He leaned his head back and rested it on the wall and closed his eyes. That almost made things worse because now it felt like the floor beneath him was pitching and rocking as if he was on a ship.
He opened his eyes and the pitching and rolling diminished considerably but did not go away. It was like being out to sea.
When Daryl turned ten Merle had taken him out for a day of deep-sea fishing off Jekyll Island for his birthday.
Merle had just gotten home from his first trip to a real prison and was twitchy and irritable from being without the drugs his body craved for the last four weeks. He'd been to juvie before but now that he was nineteen, he'd done his brief sentence at Central State Prison in Macon, a medium security facility for adult males with a population of over a thousand inmates. Even at nineteen, Merle was a force to be reckoned with and he had made it clear to all the other inmates in no uncertain terms that Merle Dixon didn't swing that way and any man that tried anything funny would wake up with their own severed dick in their mouth.
Now that he was out, Merle had an itch that was aching to be scratched and he damned well was going to scratch the hell out of it. One of his connections was working as a deck hand on a charter fishing boat that was running day trips out of Jekyll Harbor and Merle decided to kill two birds with one stone. He'd score a fix and buy some crystal meth from his buddy while Daryl was fishing. Daryl had never been to the ocean before and he was extremely excited, but he remained quiet for the entire drive to the marina. He didnt want to do anything that might make Merle mad at him.
Merle was a jumpy, wired up wreck. He kept thumping the steering wheel of his old truck as he drove and then he would squirm in his seat and grab hold of the tuning dial on the truck's stereo and run up and down the stations. He'd listen to one song for a few seconds, then move the dial again. It made Daryl nervous just watching him. He knew that Merle was wound up like a tightly coiled spring and that if he made one wrong move or said one wrong thing, Merle would go off on him like a nuclear bomb.
They made it to the marina without incident and boarded the boat (4 Play was its name according to the words painted on the transom and both sides of the bow). The 33' boat left the harbor and an hour and a half after they started out from the marina the captain's voice came over the intercom and said that they had arrived at the fishing grounds.
The anchor was dropped to keep the boat from drifting, and the waves were rougher and higher than usual. This was due to a tropical storm that was heading in their direction and would come ashore a little more than twenty four hours later, dumping nearly eight inches on the Georgia coastline in a span of twenty four hours.
The 4 Play bounced around like a cork and Daryl felt his stomach rise and fall as the boat rode the waves. He staggered across the deck as the boat rolled from side to side and grasped the railing when he reached it. He pushed down his panic. He didn't want to be sick and embarrass Merle, especially in front of Merle's 'friend' but the constant motion beneath his feet and the fear he felt when he realized that he could not see land in any direction but just water as far as the eye could see made him nauseous and nervous. He bit his lower lip and closed his eyes. Bad idea. The rocking of the boat seemed to intensify and he quickly opened his eyes again just in time to see a pale green colored Merle bolt out the galley door and sprint past him. Merle hung his head over the railing and puked his guts out for about five minutes. He was joined by a couple other fisherman whose stomachs did not find the fishing conditions to be ideal, either.
Daryl smirked at the memory. Merle had spent the rest of the trip moaning and groaning as he lay on one of the bunks utilized for overnight shark fishing trips and Daryl had gotten control of himself and ended up catching four skipjacks, six albacore and a very large mahi mahi. The fish had been filleted and wrapped by the deck hands aboard the 4 Play and sat in a cooler on the floor of the truck at Daryl's feet. Merle complained about the fish smell all the way home that night, but he did tell Daryl he was right proud of him for showing up all those retired old farts out on the boat by catching the most and the biggest fish on the trip.
Daryl limped over and picked up one of the towels he'd set out for himself. He carefully ran it through his hair then patted it gently against the burns on the back of his neck. He shivered as he dried his back and rubbed the towel across his chest. When he dabbed it across his face he notice several small blood stains on it. The fresh scabs forming over the burns on the back of his neck had been softened and sloughed off in the shower and were bleeding again.
Daryl cinched the other towel around his waist and slowly made his way to the door and stepped out into his bedroom. Hershel wasn't there yet.
Daryl hobbled over to his dresser and opened the top drawer. As he had expected, his underwear was in there stacked in orderly rows. He bit his lower lip and resolved to lay down a "no one touches my underwear except me" rule as soon as he and Maggie were able sit and talk. He pulled a pair of boxer briefs out of the drawer fand stepped into them, accidentally bumping his right ankle against the corner of the dresser and letting loose a stream of expletives that would make a seasoned sailor blush.
As Daryl pulled a t-shirt out of the drawer there was a quiet knock on the door followed by Hershel's voice. "May I come in?"
"Course you can." Daryl said, still holding onto the t-shirt as he moved slowly over to the bed and sat on the edge of it.
Hershel slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. He turned to where Daryl sat on the edge of the bed, the t-shirt clutched in his left hand.
The man had a fresh crop of bruises littering his face, chest and legs and Hershel noticed some new lacerations including one below his right eye and across the top of his right hand. Hershel's eyes rested on Daryl's right ankle and he cringed. It was swollen and bruised and sported a round shaped indentation where hit had been struck with the ball peen hammer. Hershel looked back up and met Daryl's eyes with his own. He watched as Daryl's eyes drifted to the left and then jerked back to focus on him.
Hershel stepped closer to Daryl and Daryl instinctively leaned away from him and then stopped himself and sat up straight. "I'm going to do a full assessment of your condition and then we'll figure out what needs to be done. We'll go one step at a time. First I'm going to be checking your head injuries. I'll try to be careful. Lord knows I don't want to hurt you any worse than you've already been hurt."
"Go ahead then." Daryl said. "An' don't worry 'bout hurtin' me. I'm good." He felt Hershel's hands move across the top of his head and down the sides before they came to a stop.
Hershel ran his right hand across a bump above Daryl's right ear. There was a small cut on the bump and a dark bruise blanketed the area. "This is new." he said. He came upon another much larger bump on the back of Daryl's head with similar bruising. "Would you please look down towards the floor," Hershel asked as he leaned over Daryl's shoulder to get a better look.
Daryl did as he was told. Hershel noticed what looked like broken skin on the back of Daryl's neck peeking out from underneath his hair. He squinted and gently pushed the hair away from Daryl's neck, exposing the cluster of cigarette burns. Hershel sucked in a breath. What kind of barbarian could do something like this to a fellow human being?
Hershel took a step back and put his hand on Daryl's shoulder. Daryl jumped but did not move away from Hershel.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Hershel asked quietly.
Daryl looked up at him. "Ain't much to tell. Guy in charge of Woodbury wanted me to answer some questions. Wasn't too happy when I wouldn't."
"You've taken at least two more blows to your head. I don't need to tell you that that isn't a good thing. Did either of them cause you to lose consciousness? "
Daryl closed his eyes and nodded. "Both of 'em. When they caught me I put up a fight…."
'I'll bet you did,' thought Hershel.
"They'd handcuffed me an' one a the bastards whacked me with one a my Blackhawk after I'd really got him mad. When they got me into town they put me in a small room and stated questioning me. I couldn't leave well enough alone and ended up really pissin' off that one fella. The chair I was in had gone over when he hit me in the face and he kicked me in the head while I was on the floor."
Hershel watched Daryl's eyes meet his and then drift to the right as he spoke. "Next thing I knew Merle was there. Didn't believe it was him at first. Thought I was imaginin' him. It was kind a funny."
Daryl's eyes moved back to Hershel's once again.
"I understand that while you were at Merle's home, you had an incident where you woke up and you didn't know where you were or what had happened."
Daryl smirked. "You been talkin' to Merle. Hope he didn't give you a hard time. Merle's….well, Merle usually don't play too well with others." he said as he rubbed the whiskers on his chin with his left hand. Daryl was surprised to see a hint of a smile on the white-haired man's face.
"Merle's getting along with me just fine." Hershel said. "Although I wouldn't want to get on his bad side. He's been quite helpful and he's quite worried about you."
Daryl snorted.
Hershel raised his eyebrows.
Daryl sighed. "I'm sorry." he said to Hershel. His eyes drifted to the right again and he closed them. "Merle told me he's tryin' to be a better person now that he's off the drugs. I guess I sorta doubt he can do it is all." he explained.
Hershel was running his right hand across Daryl's jaw line. "Someone busted you a good one in the mouth, any tooth displacement or loss?"
"Two on the bottom left are a bit loose, but I've had worse. Take 'em a bit a time but they'll tighten up."
"Maggie told me that Merle has his own house in Woodbury and that he's well liked and respected there. I don't think he feels any too comfortable here, but this is where he wants to be because you're here. He wants you to heal properly before the two of you go running off to Maine. I think that says a lot."
"I s'pose you're right. T'was Merle insisted we come back here. At first I thought he jes' was wantin' to find Rick for some payback."
"I'm going to take the stitches in your forehead out." Hershel said as he pulled the small garbage can over next to him and then reached for a tiny pair of curved scissors in his shirt pocket. "Then I'll check the ones in your arm. And for the record, I'm very pleased that Merle is here to help with your recovery. You are not ever going to properly heal unless you lay low and don't over exert yourself and you get sufficient rest. I think I'll discuss a care plan with Merle and put him in charge of making sure you adhere to it. Maybe he can sit on you the next time you try to jump up and run off when you're not well enough to." Hershel said.
"You know it's hard for me to stay still for very long."
"Don't I ever." Hershel replied as he steadied Daryl's head with a hand and caught the first stitch in his forehead on the open curved blade and snipped it. "Merle mentioned that you had a rather heavy nosebleed after your bout of confusion."
"I did. Was weird. It was like my head was suddenly full a too many thoughts, like they were all crammin' into my mind at the same time. Felt like my damned head was gonna explode, then it felt like it did. I started bleedin' from my nose and then my head cleared up."
"Did you have a headache when everything was all jumbled up and if so, did it disappear after the nosebleed?" Hershel asked as he pulled the last stitch.
"Had a helluva headache before and a manageable one after. Didn't completely go away." he told Hershel.
Hershel nodded. "May I check the stitches in your left arm now?" he asked.
Daryl stretched his left arm out and Hershel examined his stitches.
Hershel pulled the stitches in Daryl's arm and re-stitched the wound where it had been pulled apart when the governor had repeatedly hit it with a policeman's baton while Daryl was cuffed to the chair.
"Does that hurt?" the sadistic bastard had asked. Daryl had refused to answer him. "How about this?" the governor had said as he snapped the baton above Daryl's cuffed wrist again.
Hershel re-stitched Daryl's abdominal wound noting the lacerations and the extensive fresh bruising around it. He noticed that the bruises from Shane's brutal attack hadn't even completely faded yet.
Hershel had just started examining Daryl's right ankle when there someone started to bang on the door. "Comin' through!" Merle announced loudly as he pushed the door open and strode into the room. "I know I'm interruptin' but I'll be but a minute. Derle, me and Goldilocks and Rice Boy gotta make a run out to that farm and we'll be back when we're done there."
Daryl lifted one eyebrow as he looked at Merle and Merle responded by lifting one of his own and gruffly asking, "What?"
"Place is crawlin' with walkers! What the hell you gonna go there for?" Daryl asked, sounding just a gruff as Merle did.
"'Cause I left your fuckin' toy crossbow there, that's why." Merle snapped. "I wan't gonna tell you, but then I figured I'd better 'cause I need to give you a warning."
A warning? Daryl narrowed his eyes at his brother and scowled. "Best be careful, Merle." he said, giving Merle a warning of his own. "and dammit you left my crossbow!? What the hell?!"
Merle threw his arms up. "Well excuuuuuuuuuse meeeeee for bein' more concerned with gettin' your stupid ass outta there alive than where your fuckin' piece a shit peashooter was!" he roared.
Hershel cringed.
"I'm comin' with you." Daryl said and he started to stand.
"See?" yelled Merle. "That's exactly why I came in here to see you! " He pointed his only index finger at Daryl and continued to shout. "Now you sit your ass back down and stay right here, dammit! You ain't goin' nowhere! You got that?"
Daryl took a step towards Merle, being careful not to put much weight onto his right leg and pointed a finger of his own at his older brother. "You ain't the boss a me!" he growled.
Merle laughed and then got dead serious again. "Until you've healed the fuck up I sure as hell am the boss a you and you damned well best not be forgettin' that!" he snarled. "Look at you! That damned ankle is swelled all up and you can barely walk on it! You'd be nothin' but a fuckin' liability on a run like this! You'd get us all killed waitin' on your worthless, sorry ass if you came with us out to the farm, dummy!"
Daryl hung his head and looked at the floor.
Merle watched as his brother sat back down on the edge of his bed and started to chew on his thumbnail. He sighed and took a step towards Daryl. "Now we're on our way an I'm warnin' you. You stay put while I'm gone. You got that, Derle?" he asked. This time he didn't yell.
Daryl didn't say anything and he didn't look up at his brother but he did nod. That was good enough for Merle.
"Last one there's the rotten egg!" Carl yelled as he and Beth both burst from the kitchen door out onto the porch. They both leaped off the porch at the same time and started running for the chicken coop, laughing as they ran
Carl was ahead of Beth and he looked over his shoulder to see how far behind him she was as he rounded the corner of the coop and then he heard her scream as he crashed into something. The walker toppled over, still holding onto the chicken it was eating and Carl fell on top of it. He yelled out in surprise as his hands sank up to his wrists into the walker's soft and rotting abdomen. It snarled and let go of the chicken and bent forward to try to bite him. Carl yelled and scrambled to his feet and felt a cold boney hand grab him by his right forearm. He heard Beth screaming again as he yanked his arm away from the small walker that had apparently been an elderly lady. He stumbled backward and caught his balance and looked around quickly there was a large group of walkers near the garage and behind the chicken coop. Carl ran back toward the house and saw Beth trying to dodge walkers that seemed to suddenly appear from nowhere. A large camo clad walker took a handful of her hair and pulled to try to get her closer to its mouth as Beth dodged past it and Beth was jerked back into the hungry creature. She screamed which caused other walkers to move towards her.
"No!" Carl yelled at the top of his lungs and he dove through the walkers to get to her.
Carl slammed into the walker about to bite into Beth's shoulder as Beth wailed in despair and the walker's rotting teeth snapped against the collar of her shirt. Another one was clawing at her shirt tail and trying to pull her closer in order to eat her.
Everything was happening so fast. Where the hell had these walkers come from? Carl hauled Beth to her feet as he shoved another walker back away from them. A strong but dead hand grabbed his shoulder and he jerked away from it and jumped backward into another walker. "Run" he shouted. "We have to get to the house!"
"They're blocking the way! There's too many of them!" Beth screamed. Carl grabbed her hand and glanced at her quickly. Her eyes were filled with frightened tears and her shirt was ripped and dirty where the walkers had grabbed at her. Carl thought she was beautiful in spite of the dirt and tears and he was hit with an overwhelming desire, no, not a desire, an overwhelming need to protect her at all costs. "Follow me!" he said as he pulled her so she stood behind him as the walkers advanced on them. There had to be at least thirty of them. Where had they come from and how did they get into the yard? Carl gave Beth's hand a squeeze. "I'm going to distract them so you can get inside. No matter what happens" he said, "keep running until you're inside the house. Do not stop! Not for anything!"
Beth's eyes widened and she shook her head and opened her mouth to protest but Carl gave her a grin before she could say a word and he turned to face the walkers and yelled, "Let's go!"
.