After he and Rick finished their conversation on the deck, Merle went into the kitchen and tossed a couple of Pop Tarts into the toaster. Two wasn't going to cut it and he took two more of the pastries and grabbed a clean plate out of the dish rack. He threw the two Pop Tarts into the microwave and waited for them to heat up while the other two in the toaster turned a deeper golden brown. The microwaved dinged at the same time the toaster expelled the pop tarts and Merle pulled the hot plate from the microwave. "Ow, ow, ow " he muttered as the quickly placed the hot plate on the counter and then he repeated the phrase under his breath as he grabbed the pop tarts one by one out of the toaster and piled them on top of the two on the plate. He pushed to pop tarts to one side of the plate and then he dumped a pile of sour pickle slices from a jar in the refrigerator on the other half of the plate.
Carl came wandering into the kitchen just as Merle closed the refrigerator door after putting the pickles away.
"Something smells yummy." he said and he peeked around Merle to see what was responsible for the pleasant odor.
"'S my dinner." Merle growled. "Din't your mom already feed ya yours?"
Carl saw the pile of pickles next to the pop tarts as Merle reached for his plate and he made a face. "Gross!" Carl exclaimed. "Pickles with pop tarts? That is so disgusting!"
Merle snorted and he looked truly offended. "Is not! Now this here is a perfectly balanced meal," he told Carl. "You got your sugary sweet Pop Tarts with strawberry fillin', see? There's your fruit and your sour salty pickles which is a vegetable."
"What about the meat and dairy groups?" Carl asked. "Where are they in this perfectly balanced meal?"
Merle narrowed his eyes at the little shit. "The meat, or protein part a this meal is all them little tiny worms and fly larvae that's more 'n likely been cooked inta the Pop Tarts. The flour they use in them big Pop Tart factories is full a bug eggs an' mealy worms an' stuff. "
Carl eyed Merle warily. "I don't believe you." he said defiantly.
"Well hell, son, I don't give a flying fart if you believe me or not. Don't make it any less true. Oh, an' speakin' a bugs, did you know that lots a stuff you eat that's red gets its red color from dried, ground up beetles? Jell-O, Strawberry Quik, them juice boxes, some flavors of ice cream, all sorts a shit."
Carl didn't know whether Merle was kidding with him or not. He hoped so. "I don't believe that either," he said. "I think you're full of shit."
Merle snorted and said, "Okay, okay, think what you want. I'm gonna enjoy my ground up beetle and bug egg, wormy, pink frosted Pop Tarts and my pickles. Mmm.. mmm..MM Mm," and he took a big bite out of one of the Pop Tarts. He swallowed and grinned at Carl, then patted his belly and said, "Crunchy, insecty goodness."
Carl looked at Merle doubtfully and Merle broke off a piece of pop tart and sandwiched it between two pickle slices. "Look," he said to Carl holding up his creation. "A bite sized pickle-bug tart sandwich!" and he popped it into his mouth.
Carl shook his head and quickly left the kitchen. "Hey!" Merle called after him. "Come back here! We haven't discussed the dairy group and then I was gonna tell you 'bout what hot dogs an' sausage is made of!"
"I'm not listening!" Carl hollered from the dining room as he made his escape from the disgusting redneck.
"Pig lips, testicles, eyeballs an' tails, cow udders an' noses and a lot of other stuff!" Merle shouted after him.
Merle finished his meal in peace and then made his way to his temporary quarters in the den on third floor. He turned down his bed and then made his way down to the bathroom where he finished up his bedtime routine. Merle always brushed his teeth before he went to bed. It was a habit.
When Merle was about four years old, his Uncle Jesse's wife, Aunt Pricilla, died and Uncle Jesse suddenly began showing up every night at about supper time. Momma would invite Uncle Jesse to eat with them and Merle could remember how Uncle Jesse would scarf down food like he hadn't eaten for days. He'd eat with his mouth full and slobber and belch and Merle found the man and his bad manners to be fascinating. One evening Uncle Jess had finished wolfing down a large piece of chocolate cake after dinner and then, to little Merle's amazement, he popped his teeth out of his mouth and started licking them off. Merle watched with a combination of amusement and horror and then looked at his mother with a wide eyed questioning look on his face. That night Momma had reminded Merle to brush his teeth before bed and added, "or your teeth will rot and fall out of your head and you'll end up with false teeth like Uncle Jesse."
Little Merle had asked how come Uncle Jesse's teeth didn't grow back. After all, he'd lost several teeth and they had all been replaced by larger ones that Momma said were 'permanent teeth'.
"The good Lord only gives you two for each spot and then he sometimes throws a few extras in towards the back," she'd told him. Merle sucked his lips in over his teeth and opened and closed his mouth, trying to imagine what it would be like to have no teeth.
"How did Uncle Jesse lose his teeth?" he asked.
"He lost his teeth 'cause he never took care of 'em. Never bushed 'em, never flossed, used 'em to pop caps off beer bottles and for all sorts of horrible things. They rotted right out of his head. His false teeth don't fit him right either. If you don't brush your teeth," she warned, "that will happen to you, too."
Merle made an effort to brush his teeth on a daily basis if he could ever since that day. He sure as hell wasn't going to end up sitting toothless at a table somday licking off his dentures, that was for damned sure.
Merle finished up in the bathroom and made his way back to 'his' room. He saw Maggie slip into the war room as he exited the bathroom and he wondered if she'd finally decided to give his brother a break and leave him the hell alone for a while. Didn't she know that Daryl needed his rest and that with her hanging around him all the damned time, it was probably next to impossible for him to get any?
Merle entered his room and closed the door and then opened a window, partially for air circulation but mainly so he could better hear if any disturbance occurred outside. It took him a few minutes to get situated in the sofa bed and as he had suspected, it was very comfortable. He closed his eyes and started to mull over the day so he could push all the thoughts from his head before he settled in to sleep. It was a good day overall. He had Daryl back, he'd set up a mess for Woodbury and he had controlled his temper quite well. He missed his little house, but it was more important to be with Daryl and soon they would both be headed north to Maine. Leaving Woodbury was inevitable. His main objective now was keeping Daryl and himself alive and doing whatever he could to help Daryl to get better so they could leave before the governor or Dave's group converged on the house.
Merle failed at clearing his mind and fell asleep while making plans in his head to patrol the area near the end of Forest Lake Road. He would do it stealthy on foot and then he would do what he had to do to block off access to the house from potential intruders. He hadn't been asleep for more than five minutes when there was a knock on his door.
Merle was a light sleeper unless he was drunk and at the sound of the knocking he immediately woke. His eyes flew open and he looked over towards the door. Who the hell wanted to see him at this time of night? The spitfire? He didn't say anything, hoping that whoever was at the door would realize that he was trying to fucking sleep and give up and go away. The knock came again and again he ignored it. He heard the doorknob turn and a quiet creaking noise as the heavy wooden door was pushed open and then someone stepped into his room.
"Merle?" said Andrea's voice quietly. "Are you awake?"
The light in the hallway had been switched off and Merle's room was equally dark. Merle propped himself up on his elbow and raised his eyebrows. This was an unexpected surprise.
"What you doin' in here, Goldilocks?" he said.
Andrea put her hands out in front of her to keep her from running into any furniture as she made her way towards Merle's voice. She stopped when her legs bumped against the side of the sofa bed and she sat down on the edge of it next to Merle's legs.
"Well?" Merle asked. He heard Andrea take a deep breath and then choke back a sob. Crap. Sugar Tits was still boo-hooing over the old man and was looking to him now for what? Comfort?
He sat up and tentatively reached out and patted her shoulder. "Um….I.. uhhh…" Now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the room as well as they could he could see her outline as Andrea turned toward him. "I…."
Andrea sniffed. "You what?" she asked with a broken voice.
Merle tried again. "Uh…I…I." He rolled his eyes. He sounded like a damned idiot. "I just….Shit!" he exclaimed and he clapped her on the shoulder. "I just ain't good at this sympathy stuff! Dammit!"
Andrea didn't say anything, just continued to quietly sob and Merle fidgeted. He fucking hated being around crying women. He absolutely hated it. Why the hell was she there? Glenn was probably an expert on dealing with emotional touchy feely situations. Why couldn't she go and bug him? "What the fuck do you want me ta say?" he snapped.
Andrea was quiet for a moment, then she rubbed her eyes and then reached out and put a hand on Merle's blanket covered leg. "I don't want you to say anything," she said. "I just…I don't want to be alone tonight and I was wondering…I was wondering if you would just…maybe…just hold me?"
Merle blinked. She wanted him to do what?
Andrea didn't wait for an answer. She stood and felt her way to the head of the sofa bed and then pulled the blanket back.
Merle scooted over closer to the center of the bed to give her room, still hardly believing that she was there in the room, let alone getting into bed with him.
Andrea climbed into the bed and turned so she was facing Merle. She detected the faint aroma of his Old Spice deodorant and she moved in closer until she figured that they were just about face to face. The mint toothpaste smell of Merle's breath indicated that she had figured correctly.
Merle was now wondering to himself if maybe he just wasn't dreaming this sequence of events.
"Please?" Andrea asked tearfully. "Just for a few minutes?"
Merle sighed. "Okay," he said and he reached out toward the dark outline of her head and cupped her face with his left hand. His thumb brushed away the tears on her cheek. "But I ain't no good at this sort a shit."
Andrea moved in closer and Merle took his hand from her cheek and slowly wrapped his arms around her as she curled up against him, resting her head on his chest. He ran his left hand up and down her back in an effort to be comforting as she quietly cried. Merle slowly laid back until his head reached his pillow, pulling Andrea down with him.
"I'm losing everyone I care about." she said and she sniffed. "Dale saved me and Amy. He didn't know us at all and he took us in, said we could stay with him in his RV and that he would keep us safe. I owe him my life and lately I hadn't talked much with him at all. I'd been so mad at him for such a long time and why? Because he stopped me from killing myself and he didn't think I should be allowed to have a gun." She sniffed again. "He was just trying to protect me! I'm such a fool."
Merle rolled his eyes and hoped she wasn't going to talk all night. He just wasn't good at this comfort thing. Hell, he was having a hard enough time trying to be a better brother to Daryl. Did he really need to be playing the part of Andrea's wailing wall?
"You're such a good brother to Daryl now." she said and wiped her eyes. "And I was such an awful sister to Amy. I wasn't there for her for so many years. Now she's gone and I'll never be able to tell her how sorry I am and how much I love her. I'll never be able to tell Dale I'm sorry for being a jerk to him and how much I appreciated him." She wrapped both of her arms around Merle and clung to him. Merle held her and ran his hand through her hair.
"Shhhh…you best stop dwellin' on that shit. Amy knew you loved her and you an' her were company to the old man so he wan't alone when all this biter shit was startin'." He cleared his throat. Damn, this was awkward. "They're gone now. They're dead and unlike most a the folks dyin' these days, they ain't comin' back. They're lucky in that respect. You, though, you're alive."
Andrea took a deep breath. Merle was right. He was pretty lousy at comforting people. If anything, he'd just made her feel worse.
"Thing is, you're mopin' around like you was dead, too, and you gotta stop it. Your sister and the old man wouldn't want you doin' that shit. Stop actin' dead, Andi. You're alive, so don't act fuckin' dead. You only got one life so dont be wastin' it. Be alive!" Merle sighed. God, what he just said was so damned stupid.
Andrea pulled away from Merle and sat up. She wiped her eyes again and pondered what Merle had just said. He was right. Amy and Dale were gone. Hopefully, they were at peace. They no longer had to worry about the perils of this new world and struggling to survive. She was alive, though, with no guarantees that she would be the next night. Life was hard now, it was dangerous and scary but it was better than death. She had wanted death at the CDC and now she wanted life. She wanted to wring all she could out of it. She wanted to feel alive. She turned and looked down at Merle where he was lying next to her and she could have sworn she saw his eyes looking up at her in the darkness. She tossed her leg over him and all but threw herself down on top of him, planting her hands on his shoulders. She was now sitting on him and looking down at him.
Merle wasn't quite sure what had just happened. Andrea was sitting on his stomach and leaning forward with both hands on his shoulders as if she thought she was pinning him down in some half-assed TV wrestling move.
"What the hell do you..." he started. Andrea's lips crashed into his and effectively shut him up.
Dave and his men arrived at the Greene's barn at a little after one in the morning. The discovery of their two dead group members complete with messages nailed to their foreheads did nothing to improve the shitty mood Dave was in already because of the disappearance of Tony, Roger and Randall. Now he concluded that the asshole governor at Woodbury had decided to take him and his whole group out and that he was more than likely responsible for the failure of Tony and the other two to return.
Tony had been a friend and partner in crime to Dave for many years and his probable loss did not sit well with Dave.
"Pull the bodies out next to the barn. The roamers can eat 'em." he said to the other men in his group. "And let's check out the farmhouse. No lights on or nothin'. looks empty so we'll go in easy, make sure it's clear and we can stay in there tonight. Tomorrow we'll make one more pass in the direction Tony headed and then we'll come back here and make plans to hit Woodbury."
The men in the group all murmured in agreement and Dave took one more look at the two dead men on the floor before walking out of the barn and towards the farmhouse.
It wasn't quite 2:00 in the morning when a nightmare pulled Daryl from sleep.
In his dream, the governor had come to the lake house in the middle of the night as the group slept and he had attacked them. There were screams and cries as the unprepared members of the group were gunned down and Daryl had stayed in the shadows, avoiding the enemy and moving undetected as he searched for Maggie. He mumbled in his sleep as he searched for her in his dream. He found her out near the grave he'd dug in the meadow. She was safe and sound and she reached out and embraced him. He was so relieved that she was okay. He had grabbed her hand and turned to head for the cover of the woods when the governor jumped up out of the hole Daryl had dug, holding one of Daryl's Blackhawks in each of his hands.
Daryl pushed Maggie behind him as he turned to face the governor and the Blackhawks roared. His heart felt like it was exploding as the bullets from his own guns ripped through his chest and he sank to his knees. He heard Maggie screaming and the governor laughing He fell forward into the tall grass and darkness closed in on him. As he died in his dream with the sound of Maggie's screams fading to silence he was jolted awake.
He sat up quickly, sweat droplets clinging to his forehead and stinging the burns on the back of his neck. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer in his chest and he was embarrassed and glad he was alone when he realized he was actually trembling. Daryl took a deep breath and slowly moved to the edge of his bed and sat up. He was still trembling and he wiped his brow with a shaky hand. "Just a dream, you fuckin' pussy," he muttered to himself. "Get a grip." He swung his legs over and off the bed and put his feet on the ground. He winced when a bolt of pain shot up his leg from his right ankle and he shifted his weight so he wasn't bearing much of it on his bad ankle.
Daryl slowly stood up and after taking a deep breath and convincing himself that he didn't need any pain medication just then, he slowly made his way to the door that opened onto the porch. He opened the door as quietly as he could and stumbled to the rocking chair next to the bench on the porch. He eased himself down into it and leaned back. That had been quite the damned shitty dream he decided.
He watched the stars as he tried to decide what the best course of action would be to deal with a run in with the nutcase that called himself the governor. The group would either have to fortify the house against an assault and prepare to defend it while being incredibly outnumbered or they would have to leave and head north before they came under attack. He rocked slowly back and forth in the chair as he considered the possibilities.
His head started to ache and he wasn't sure if it was due to his head injuries or from thinking too much. He closed his eyes and listened to the quiet and oddly soothing creaking of the rocking chair as he slowly rocked back and forth. He fell asleep thinking about Maine and the house that he hoped was waiting for them there.