Chapter 43
She'd been angry with him since the fight, Merle realised as he stalked back from the barn. She had mopped up his blood, wiped over the cuts, even tried to bandage up some of his injuries until her had told her in no uncertain terms that she would not be doing that. But her face had been disapproving – he remembered her earlier words on who she blamed for their predicament. She'd had a go at him when she caught him shaving his head with his blade – just because he'd made a comment about getting rid of what would be his nigga 'fro. Then there had been the second tractor incident, which had been more significant than the first and there had been a few minor injuries – Hannah amongst them. He'd seen in her eyes that she knew it was him who had caused it and his smirk had died under the cold distain that she sent him. The final blow he thought though had been when Hannah had refused to let her take the baby away – the woman's eyes had flicked to him. Marion had been upset about that 'As if I would hurt the baby,' she had wavered. She had looked at him and flinched away. That had been uncalled for, hurting kids was way past his lines in the sand – although perhaps threatening to hurt a kid wasn't.
She was suffering in the camp – because of him. And she knew it.
She still slept next to him, but she was stiffer than before, selfish with her warmth and she spent most nights on her belly as far away from him as she could – whether that was anger or just a management control against his body he couldn't be sure. She was also starting to speak to Elijah more – at dinner she had actually agreed with the prick over something, he couldn't remember what – well he'd stopped listening to them fairly early on in the piece, talking instead to Joanna.
She's figured out she's got a better chance here without you said the sardonic voice inside his head.
He had no come back on that one. The scene in the barn had pretty much sealed it. He couldn't have been more surprised – well maybe if it had been Caleb he would have been more surprised – the sight of Marion and David interlocked against the wall had literally rooted him to the spot. He'd actually taken half a step forward, ready to rip him off her but then her hands had snaked around his neck and he'd stopped suddenly. Another second had left him in no doubt that she was there by choice and enjoying herself, he'd whirled without further thought.
Samson looked up as he burst into the tent he shared with Elijah, reaching for a gun automatically as he took in the expression on Merle's face. Merle ignored the movement, continuing his stride past where the man sat, turning around and striding back to the front of the tent, before turning around again and finally plopping himself down on Elijah's bed. Samson had removed his hand from the gun somewhere during the process and was now looking at Merle with something akin to sympathy.
"I ain't goin' ta make tha woman pregnant," said Merle gruffly. Ya still protecting her? "Ya goin' ta kill me or wha'?"
"I don't want to," Samson shook his head. "But will you give me any choice?"
"I'll go," nodded Merle.
"By yourself?" Samson said sceptically.
An image of Marion plastering herself all over David came to mind. "Yes," he snarled.
"Really?" insisted Samson. "You were most adamant about not leaving without her."
"Well locking me in tha tent wit' tha broad made me change me mind dinnit?" returned Merle savagely. "I'm betta on me own."
"Stay," Samson leaned forward. "Stay with us Merle – you could fit in if you tried. We could use you here."
Merle was shaking his head. "I never fit in Samson – never, not since I was a kid. Ya know how long I lasted wit' tha Marines? Twenty whole months," he saw Samson frown. "Tha other sixteen were in tha Brig, Quantico," he snorted as Samson's eyes closed. "There ain't a group for me – I'm betta on me own." He paused. "Wha' 'bout you? Ya don't belong 'ere eit'er."
Samson offered him a sad smile. "Maybe not. But this is where my brother is – I can't leave him. You understand that? Plus," he added in a softer tone. "There's Deborah."
Dumb fucker.
"What will you do?" asked Samson.
"Head to Fort Benning," Merle shrugged. "See what is t'ere now, if t'ere's anyone come back. Try and track me brot'er down – it's what we was doin' b'fore we found ya little summer camp."
"I can't give you much," started Samson.
"I don't want not'in'," interrupted Merle. "I'll take me guns, me clothes."
"And you'll just walk out the gate?" Samson still sounded a bit sceptical.
Merle shrugged. "Ya could drive me to tha car."
Samson blinked and then he sat back and laughed.
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He felt the woman stir against him, her body clock waking her ready for her chores. He had rolled onto her during the night, his stump across her back and her arm trapped under his chest – if it had been a different day he would have stayed still to enjoy the sensations that her hand was going to generate as soon as it moved. But not today. He pulled his arm back over and rolled himself out of the bed.
"What you doing?" she enquired sleepily.
"Goin' outside wit' Samson," he said gruffly. He reached for a set of clothes and at the last moment remembered that these weren't his clothes – they were in a bag with the rest of his stuff in the footwell of Samson's truck. He instead picked up the clothes he'd worn the day before, knowing that her nose was crinkled in disgust. "Be back about dark."
"Be careful," she said from next to him and he turned to see that she had stood up, her hair tousled from sleep, clad in one of those all encompassing dresses that didn't quite manage to hide her curves properly.
She'd say that to anyone.
He couldn't help himself – he grabbed her and pulled her close. His kiss was hard –full of the anger and the hurt that he felt, feelings that he couldn't express – well not to her. He wanted her to be safe, he wanted her to be happy and he knew that couldn't happen with him – and for the first time in his life he regretted that.
Dog growled and he tasted salt on his lips. Fuck he had made her cry again. He dropped her and turned, stalking out into the pre-dawn without another word or backward glance.
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Samson drove in silence – taking one look at Merle's set face as he climbed into the truck and wisely deciding that it was safer. The camp faded into the background as the truck chugged away, it took longer for the vehicle to get to the road than it had for them to walk in a month ago – he snorted as Samson carefully checked left and right and then left again before pulling onto the road. He directed him along the road for a few miles, then off to the left where there had been a fire trail until they arrived at the location of the F350.
Samson nodded in admiration as he took in the hide that Merle had set up around the car and then put to demolishing it. "Will it still drive?" he asked curiously.
"It got t'is far," shrugged Merle, leaning in and popping the hood. "I'll take it down ta tha town – t'ere was a garage t'ere and it looked pretty well stocked. I'll be able ta beat tha panels back into place, fix anyt'ing else t'at may give me hassle."
"Are you sure? I thought that the town had been over-run?" Samson sounded concerned.
Merle nodded, poking around in the bush until he found the hose. "T'ere's ways in. Tha garage is still secure – I cleaned it out good last time I was t'ere. I got tha key – I'll get in t'ere and close it up tight. Tha Ford'll take care of 'em on tha way out." he was quiet for several moments as he reattached the hose and the battery leads. Samson opened the door and turned the key, Merle reached in to pump some more gas and the car roared into life. He kept the throttle open for almost a full minute before he nodded in satisfaction and put the hood down.
Samson extracted his length from the car and for a moment contemplated Merle. He seemed to shake himself. "Well Marine – it's been good to know you" and he extended his left hand.
Merle smirked and reached his own hand out, "You too Samson..." a thought struck him and he lowered his hand slightly.
Samson smiled, his own hand still out. "Yes actually it is Malcolm." Merle's eyes continued the question. "And Elijah was christened as Gordon."
Merle snorted and took his hand, shaking it. "Stick wit' Samson," he advised and Samson laughed, but it died with Merle's next words. "Look after tha woman Samson."
"Of course Merle," he nodded soberly. "She's safe with us – she'll be happy." Merle grunted and went to move past him into the car. Samson's hand on his chest stopped him. "It's not too late Merle – you could come back."
Merle shook his head. "Always said tha woman could make 'er own choices" as if that was an answer to Samson's suggestion. And it was enough, Samson nodded once sadly and stepped out of the way, closing the door behind Merle as he got himself seated.
"God bless," murmured Samson. Merle snorted Like that would ever happen and flicked the gears – the wheels spun in the forest floor as he returned along the track to the bitumen. He paused at the intersection she's made her choice brother and the wheels squealed as he turned away from camp towards the town.
It took him a couple of hours to get to the town, the 'as the crow flies' distance much smaller than the circular route that he had to take the car. His stomach was reminding him that he hadn't stayed around for breakfast as he came to its outskirts. He dropped the car out of gear and coasted down the slight hill, braking and sitting in silence for a couple of moments. Nothing came, the quiet before the storm he thought with a smirk and pushed himself out of the car and then into the back of it. He untied the 50cal from the tyre and lowered it to the ground, but paused before he got out and flipped one of the lids of the containers. He stared at the booze the deal was null and void after all but he decided that now was not the time. He replaced it and flipped another fuckin' irony he snarled, but reached in to pick out a chocolate. The night time temperatures which had chilled it had not yet been overwhelmed by the warm sun and the chocolate was slightly hard still as he bit into it. He savoured the taste in silence for a few seconds, then he grunted to himself and fixed up the lid before jumping down to the ground. He manhandled the gun to the front of the car, then returned to find some of the ammunition. He loaded it up with the longest chain of bullets that he could find, spreading it out as straight as he could to minimise the potential for jamming. He hammered the couple of sticks that he'd thrown into the truck earlier into the ground either side of the barrel and twisted the gun left and right to test its range of motion. He squatted down to sight down the barrel, adjusting the weapon until it was at the right angle.
A growl sounded and he straightened, pulling the silenced weapon out and shooting the approaching geek between the eyes. He didn't have time to play.
He turned back to the car and started it, grabbed a screwdriver out from his kit, and pushed the heel of his hand square on the horn.
They came out from the woodwork. Limping, stumbling, dragging forms with limbs missing, flesh eaten from ribs and other extremities. They growled in hunger as they sighted him and their pace increased. He kept his hand on the horn until the closest of them was within fifteen yards – then he moved quickly to the gun, leaning down and pulling the trigger. The 50cal was a powerful weapon – it literally cut the forerunners of the glitch in half. Further away the bullets thudded into flesh, some they hit in the head and the geeks dropped to the ground to move no more. The majority however did keep moving, in a fashion – some were reduced to moaning torsos that dragged themselves across the ground, still eager for a taste of his flesh.
Merle let himself stand for several seconds, knowing that the sound of the gun would be drawing more of them towards this end of the town, then with some intricate work with his fingers managed to insert the screwdriver into the gap between the trigger and the housing. The gun faltered as he removed his hand – he pushed the screwdriver in further and the firing continued. He watched the belt of bullets as it fed through the gun – he reckoned he had maybe another minute or so until the bullets ran out, unless of course if it jammed. He gave the barrel a slight nudge and it swung, hit the stick in the ground and bounced back, the constant firing generating enough momentum that the gun bounced back off the second stick – firing in a wide arc that was decimated the hordes approaching it with no survival instinct whatsoever.
He turned back to the car, dispatching the small number of geeks that had come from his rear with contemptuous ease, and then reversed back down the street until he could take a side street to take him to the garage. He pressed the automatic door opener as he approached and after a slight pause, in which he held his breath, his field electronics made the connection and the door lifted. He reversed the Ford in and hit the button again. The door made it three quarters of the way down before the car battery ran out of juice and he moved quickly to slam it down the rest of the way, turning the lock to ensure that nothing could get through.
He worked through the majority of the day, the early years spent in chop shops proving invaluable as he stripped off the damaged panels and beat them out – he wouldn't be winning any awards, but they were serviceable. He inspected the engine block carefully and plugged the hole in the radiator, he filled up the oil and the water, then went searching until he found some coolant and filled that up as well. He inspected the tyres and although it probably wasn't strictly necessary, he topped them up a little. He then went for a systematic search through the racks of tyres, spare parts and maintenance fluids that were held by the garage and filled up the empty places in the truck.
He considered throwing out the items that he wouldn't need – nappies, woman shit, chocolate. But he decided against it – the theory of trade was sound enough and it wasn't like he didn't have the room. He topped up the supply of fuel in the drum and the tank of the car.
He was done.
The noise that he had generated during the day had drawn the geeks gradually. He wasn't sure how many there were, although it did sound like there was a few. He looked at the fading light through the windows – leave now and try and find somewhere safe to sleep OR stay here and start fresh in the morning. He wanted to go, right then and there, just to get away from the place. But that wouldn't be smart he decided. He had a secure place for the night, he could be up at dawn after the absence of noise and movement had lulled them to the sort of suspended animation thing they had happening.
He dug around in the containers until he managed to put some semblance of a meal together and finished it off with a beer fuck tha deal and a chocolate bar. He walked around the garage, which comprised the workshop he had the Ford in, an office and a showroom to check that all was still secure. He walked up the stairs to where the residence was and looked for a moment at the large double bed, but turned and walked away tha bunk'll do him. He tried the water, but there were no solar panels on this roof and he got a trickle of cold, slightly dirty water. He used his own supply to give himself a quick wash over and then returned to the car, sitting down on the bunk in the office with a sigh.
Wha' a fuckin' day.
He closed his eyes firmly, lying almost defiantly on his left side, and willed himself to sleep.
He dreamed.
She finished attaching her bags to the gelding's saddle, testing the strength of the knot that she had tied. She didn't want the thing to come undone if she had to move along quickly. The crossbow and its quiver were over her shoulder and the sword was buried in a shotgun holder that she had found during a thorough cleanup of the tack shed. Dog sat perched on the end of the saddle, looking for all the world like he belonged there. She turned around and smiled at Jo. "Ready." She nodded, "I'll leave him at the Thompson farm for you to get later."
But Jo was looking uncertain and her grip on the gelding's reins was tight. "I don't know Marion. Elijah – he'll be upset."
Marion felt her stomach sink, but her voice was rallying. "It's for the best Jo."
"But Elijah wants you – he wants your baby." She firmed under Marion's eyes. "I can wait. I'll talk to Samson – he'll help me."
So close she screamed inwardly. He was gone, she knew that. The kiss this morning had pretty much told her that and it had broken her heart, knowing how she had kicked him in the guts and then wiped her feet over him this morning with David in the barn. It was the only way said one voice. Maybe, acknowledged the other but he won't be waiting for her. If she was delayed, he would be gone and then she would be alone – again.
"Merle will not look at you while I am in the camp," said Marion coldly and Jo took half a pace backwards in shock – but her hand kept its grip on the reins. "He wants me Jo, really wants me. You think he'll listen to Elijah?" she laughed harshly. "Do you want him Jo? Do you want Merle?"
She did, Marion could see it in her eyes. But she had been trained since she was a young girl – Elijah knew best. Fuck! She screamed inwardly. She could knock her out she thought – Jo was a slight girl, it would probably take her a couple of goes, but she reckoned she could do it. But that would not only leave Jo vulnerable to attack by geek, it would leave her without an alibi for the rest of the day – and she needed that to make sure she got away. She needed something – something that would appeal to the 16 year old girl, something that was more precious to her than Elijah, something she couldn't get anywhere else.
She locked eyes with Jo and pulled off her rings – it took some effort as they hadn't moved for a while. "Then you have to let me go." Carefully she reached over to the fence post and laid them down, their golden colour glinting in the sun. Jo's eyes followed them and her hand released the reins.
She rode hard, ducking overhanging branches as she cantered along, slowing Toby down for stretches to let him catch his breath before kicking him again into a canter. The sun was starting to lower itself out of the sky as she came to the farm that Jo had described and she turned her now tired horse towards it. She caught a flash of movement out of her eye and Dog growled, but the geek was pawing ineffectually at the glass from the inside of the house so she ignored it and kept riding. Toby pranced only a little when she released the one bolt at another geek, but stopped dead and would not be budged when they came to the decomposing body of a horse. She dismounted and with a bodily shove, pushed him off balance and led him in a wide arc around the grisly remains. She took the time to take the saddle off and give him a quick rubdown before throwing a bale of hay on the ground for him, leaving him in a paddock with access to a stall but lots of room to run around. She hoped that Jo would send someone for him the next day before too many geeks knew he was there.
"Come on Dog," she said, hoisting her bag over both shoulders, the crossbow over one arm and perched awkwardly against the bag and carrying the sword. She started to jog. "Let's go."
Merle sat up suddenly, "Marion." Fuckin' dream he cursed even as he heard the mocking laughter. She ain't coming – yar on ya own Merle.
"I'm gonna find you ya pussy," he snarled. "And I'm gonna kick ya ass 'till ya can't sit down for a mont'." Ooh – come on then big brother.
Must be a hallucination he decided, Daryl would never speak to him like that.
The geeks were making more noise that he thought they would be and he wondered about his decision to stay the night. He reached into his supplies again and absently chewed a cold poptart around making some morning ablutions. At least he hadn't woken up with a hard on he thought about the bright side. The howling of the geeks intensified and he frowned as he walked back down the stairs they must be able to hear him moving about. Then he shrugged he'd be out of here in no time and squatted next to the jury rigged wiring at the door. He had found another battery in his search through the workshop the day before. There wasn't much charge in it, but it had enough (based on what he had got from the other battery) to open the door the once. He didn't care what happened after that.
He heard the glass shatter upstairs and his brows raised, he hadn't thought of the geeks climbing rooves to get in – they hadn't seemed that cunning to him. Time to go he thought and opened the car door.
Dog ran past his legs and jumped up, hopping over the centre console to the passenger seat, curling up into a ball and looking at him with wide brown eyes. He met Merle's eyes: his ears flattened and his head dropped, he put his tail between his legs.
Merle stared for perhaps three seconds, blinking it had been a while since he'd had a drink – but... He turned suddenly at a noise behind him. She stood there, breathing hard, her sword covered in a dark red and splatters all over her clothes– she'd fought her way here. She looked up at him, her eyes uncertain. "Merle," she said softly.
Fuckin' calculated intelligence he thought in satisfaction and there was no comeback. "'bout fuckin' time woman. I ain't got all day."
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