Thunderbolt and Lightning, Very Very Frightening Me
Despite the peace that came with Merle's absence, Beth tossed and turned in bed for at least an hour. When she finally drifted off to sleep, it was restless.
She didn't dream, but she slipped back towards consciousness every few minutes, and it seemed like she couldn't reach a place of deep sleep no matter what she did. She was too anxious, as though there was a heavy weight sitting upon her chest, waiting to steal her breath once she awoke. And weirdly, she was too exhausted to rest.
In a way, she was afraid to let herself fall too deep into sleep. Because what if she lost control again? What if she was forced to see something she didn't want to see? What if she couldn't find her way back this time?
Somewhere within the darkness and confusion of her half-restful state, she caught a glimpse of the inside of Morgan's cabin. At first, she thought she was remembering Daryl's memory, or maybe even her own. But then she realized it was a state of unconsciousness—she was dreaming, albeit fleetingly.
Morgan was sitting calmly at the circular table, crystal ball set before him and glowing softly. His eyes were closed and his palms were resting flat against the tabletop. He almost looked like he was napping. But she knew he could sense her presence.
He spoke without opening his eyes, his voice serene and confident, echoing out around him like he was talking to himself. But she knew it was meant for her to hear.
"Remember yourself, Beth Greene, and you'll never be lost. Remember where you are, where you've come from, and where you're going. You will find your way with ease. Avoid the sharp turns and the shadowy corners; ignore the voices that beckon you further. Come to peace with who you are and where you may end up. Accept your purpose, and welcome into your heart the reason for your Gift. Most of all: remember that you are not alone. There is strength in numbers, and your greatest strength lies in your faith… And your faith resides within the people at your side. Those that you love, and those that you will come to love."
Her voice escaped on its own will, soft and distorted, "But what if I can't?"
Morgan's lips curled up into a smile, though his eyes remained shut. "Can't?"
"I thought I was learnin' how to control it, but… how am I supposed to constantly keep my guard up? I don't wanna live like this if it means I can't hug people without the fear of seein' all the worst things inside their head. What if I can't control it, can't get powerful enough, can't—can't do this? What if I'm just not strong enough, no matter how at peace I am with my Gift?"
The Swamp Witch chuckled softly and tilted his head back just slightly. His hands remained still, eyes closed. "You are plenty strong enough. All you need is a little… confidence boost."
"Confidence boost?"
"Will it into being, Beth. Request a challenge that you know you're capable of overcoming. You're a lot more powerful than you realize."
"Will it into being? I don't think i know how to do that, should I—"
"Merle was not the first to appear to you after death… isn't that right?"
"Yes."
"So what makes you think he'll be the last?"
"I'm sorry, I'm confused—"
"Not all those who wander are lost."
Beth wanted to ask what he meant, but then everything faded away. She drifted back into the dark nothing of unconsciousness.
She tossed and turned a bit longer, but suddenly, sleep came easier. Her body and mind rested. The weight lifted from her chest. Finally, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
For a few hours, at least.
It was the screaming that jerked Beth awake and sent her shooting upright in bed, opening her eyes and blinking, looking around wildly. Her chest was heaving and she gasped for breath, scared and confused.
A woman's blood curdling scream.
She'd begun to dream during the last few minutes she'd been asleep—about being Daryl trapped inside his burning home, smashing a baseball bat against the wood paneling in a desperate attempt to escape. There was screaming. His mama. She was dying just down the hall. And Beth had regained control; she'd stopped her mind from wandering back to that place. This is a dream, this isn't real. I don't want to be seeing this again. I need to wake up, I need to will something into being, I need to—
And that's when the screaming had bled through the thin layer that separated consciousness and sleep. It continued, louder and more disturbing. Different. Choked, but not with smoke… With blood.
As soon as Beth opened her eyes and looked around, the screaming began to fade. Was it coming from downstairs? Somewhere outside the house? Maggie had left, there were no other women here. So who was screaming?
Then it stopped. There was silence. The storm had picked up strength again and rain was pounding down atop the roof, loud and constant. A sharp crack of thunder startled her, but then it rumbled across the sky and faded. There were no sounds out of the ordinary to be heard.
But Beth's heart was still racing. She was still gasping for breath, searching around wildly for the source of the screaming. She looked at her bedside clock: 3:34 am. She threw back her blankets and jumped out of bed, rushing over to the window and looking out, almost expecting to see a woman lying dead in the middle of the road or something. But there was nothing to see except the rain falling and the water creating patches of mud all throughout the yard.
She'd been so distracted and disoriented that she didn't even notice Merle sitting in the desk chair, cloaked in shadows. When she turned around, she gasped in surprise.
"Jeez, blondie," he remarked. "Look like ya just seen a ghost." He chuckled. "Ya have a bad dream or sum'n?"
Beth shook her head. "Have you been here since before I woke up?"
"Yeah." He shrugged. "Felt creepy watchin' Daryl sleep. Figured I'd jus' watch you sleep instead. Ya got more interesting readin' material anyhow, but I—"
She cut him off impatiently, "So you heard it, right? That woman screaming? It woke me up."
Merle's face scrunched up in puzzlement and his smile disappeared. "Huh? I didn't hear nothin'. Sure you wasn't just hearin' the storm? Started gettin' pretty bad again 'bout an hour ago. Think I might'a heard some lightning hit one of the trees out back, but I ain't seen no fire yet." He shrugged again.
"No, it wasn't thunder or lightning," she insisted. "I heard a woman screaming. Like, at the top of her lungs. And it sounded close by."
"Well I didn't hear shit," he said. "Think you was jus' dreamin' a little too heavy. I figured you'd have some nightmares after seein' all that shit in Daryl's head."
Beth sighed and walked back to her bed, climbing in and pulling the covers over her legs while she remained sitting up. "I was startin' to have a dream about one of his memories, but then I pulled myself out… I could hear the screaming after I woke up, though. It scared the crap outta me, I thought somebody was bein' murdered."
Merle barked out a laugh. "Somebody has been murdered—me! Yer jus' havin' bad dreams 'cause all that shit you ain't s'posed ta be seein' is catchin' up with ya. Can't go around seein' that kinda darkness without sufferin' a little, know what I mean?" He prattled on indifferently, "Hell, I was still havin' nightmares 'bout the Middle East before I died… Damn, ya think maybe yer gettin' PTSD? That'd be some shit, huh." He cackled.
She rolled her eyes, ignoring him. Then she lay back tentatively and pulled the covers up to her chest.
She could still clearly remember the screaming, and her heart was still beating faster than usual.
It was like I could hear someone dying, she thought. A chill ran through her bones, and goosebumps formed up and down her arms.
She wasn't sure she could relax again after such a rude awakening. Nevertheless, she did. The sound of steady rain outside certainly helped ease her back to sleep, and before she could second-guess it, she was drifting off.
This time, she slept until her alarm woke her up. And there were no dreams, or memories, or screaming. Just some much-needed rest.
The sun was still rising when Beth went out to brave the rain and tend to the chickens. The storm had weakened since her abrupt wake-up call a couple hours prior, though it was still cloudy and wet. Thunder rumbled every twenty minutes or so, followed by brief flashes of lightning. The rain continued in sporadic bursts, tapering off as the morning wore on.
Merle stuck around for a little while, chain-smoking and watching Beth work, flapping his jaw about God-knows-what. Beth couldn't say she was listening. She was too caught up in her own head, lingering on her argument with Daryl and the possibility of hearing from him about Rick and the judge lady. Eventually, Merle got bored and disappeared. Before he went, he muttered something that sounded like "wonder if Walsh hates Mondays yet."
Beth kept checking her phone while she made lunch and cleaned up the house. She kept thinking about the things she'd seen inside Daryl's head, asking herself how she was supposed to control this damn Gift, and what did Morgan mean by a "confidence boost"? What did he mean by "will it into being"?
At one point, Hershel noticed the look on her face and asked what was wrong. She lied and said she just wasn't feeling very well. He accepted it as truth and advised her to take a nap before dinner. So then she was lying in her bed, free of Merle but plagued with anxiety. She still hated lying to her dad. Really hated it. More and more with every new lie she had to tell. Yet, somehow, that was the very least of her worries.
Her phone was dark and silent. She didn't hear a word from Daryl all day, and she couldn't seem to build up the courage to text him first. He said he'd let her know, after all. It wasn't like he'd blow her off entirely over their little spat. There were much bigger things at stake, and he knew it just as well as she did.
While she finished up the laundry and prepared dinner, Beth worried about Rick. Because what if he couldn't get them a meeting with the judge lady? Even though Morgan had foreseen her importance. What if his visions weren't entirely accurate? What if they ended up having to find some other plan? What if they simply couldn't make it happen? They didn't have a back-up plan prepared. They had no other resources to tap.
Her anxiety had reached its peak. That much was clear.
Then, in the middle of eating supper, her daddy mentioned off-handedly to Shawn, "Those fellas Daryl recommended are gonna stop by tomorrow mornin'. I reckon they might be able to start workin', too. You up for showin' 'em the ropes?"
Shawn shrugged and replied, "Sure. If ya meet 'em an' think they're worth the hassle."
Beth didn't say anything, but her gut twisted. So Daryl had called her dad… but he couldn't even shoot her a text… Okay.
Then a voice inside her head that sounded oddly like Merle's told her, Damn, it's not like he's your boyfriend or something. He's probably busy working today. Be a little patient. For the love of God, relax!
She wanted to listen, but it was difficult. Because now she was thinking about how it had officially been a week since Merle first appeared, and the only thing they really knew was that the guy who killed him was absolutely out of his mind and ready to kill Daryl. And what if they just hit another dead end? Not to mention, it was Monday again, and according to Rick, that was Papa Legba's "day." What if some new obstacle appeared? A new challenge from the Dealmaker? A new threat?
What if, what if, what if…
Merle reappeared while Beth was cleaning up the kitchen. Shawn had gone back out to feed the animals, and Hershel had gone upstairs to take a warm shower. To her own surprise, she was almost grateful to see the dead Dixon again. Admittedly, she'd been alone with her thoughts too long. She desperately needed some kind of distraction, even if it was Merle's loud mouth.
"Saw a text from Rick on Daryl's phone," Merle said, getting straight to the point. "Few hours ago, while he was workin'."
Beth glanced back at him over her shoulder as she dried her hands on a dishtowel. "And?"
Merle just raised his eyebrows and gestured towards her phone sitting on the kitchen table: it lit up and vibrated.
"Finally," she breathed out, rushing over and grabbing up her phone to unlock it. She read the new text message from Daryl that had just arrived.
Rick got hold of the judge. Gonna meet her at a bar in Atlanta
"Well?" Merle asked impatiently. "What's the news, princess? Y'all gonna be sufferin' through a conversation with my old booty call?"
"I dunno yet," Beth mumbled absently.
She was already typing out a response and pressing Send, staring at the screen and awaiting a response. "When?"
Merle heaved a sigh. Then Beth's phone vibrated in her hand and a new message appeared:
8:30 be ready in half an hour we're picking you up
Her heart skipped and she texted back, "Ok I'll meet you guys at the end of the driveway."
"Well?!" Merle prodded. "The fuck did he say? Don't keep me in suspense, blondie!"
Beth locked the screen and shoved her phone into her pocket, lifting her head to meet Merle's eyes. "They're comin' to pick me up in half an hour. We're gonna meet her at a bar in Atlanta."
He slumped and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Christ… So we're really doin' this, huh?"
She couldn't help but grin. "Yeah. We're really doin' this."
At 7:14, headlights crested the hill down the road. Beth was watching through the window next to the front door, and a moment later, she recognized the shape of the sheriff's car as it rolled down the road towards her long driveway.
She was already prepared and waiting: she'd dressed in clean blue jeans, black boots, and a heavy pink hoodie layered over a long-sleeved shirt. She'd even taken the time to apply a light layer of makeup and braid her hair into a single plait that rested over her shoulder. Her purse was strapped across her torso, hanging at her hip. She had her driver's license ready for any bouncers or bartenders who might ask, as well as her debit card and a few bucks in cash, plus a phone charger—just in case. She wasn't quite sure how to dress for a bar, let alone what kind of bar to expect, but she figured she couldn't go wrong with comfortably casual.
As soon as she spotted Rick's car down the road, she put her hood up over her head and grabbed the handle of the front door. But her dad's voice stopped her.
"Bethy, where're you goin'?" He asked from the top of the stairs.
She turned around and looked up at him, watching as he began to descend the stairs with his gaze set on her.
"I was just goin' out fer a couple hours, Daddy," she said. She'd been hoping he wouldn't emerge from the bathroom until she was already out the door, assuming he would think she'd gone to bed.
"Out where? On a Monday night?" He reached the bottom of the staircase and approached her, stepping forward and peering out the window to see what she'd been watching for. He frowned. "Is that Rick's car?"
"Yeah," Beth said. "He's pickin' me up—him an' Daryl."
Hershel's bushy gray eyebrows knit together and he gave her a quizzical look. "Yer goin' out with Rick and Daryl? At this time of night?"
"Dad," she lowered her voice. "It's Rick. Him and Daryl are friends too, ya know." She glanced out the window anxiously to see the headlights getting closer to the end of the driveway.
"I know that," Hershel said. "But—"
"But what?" She interrupted. "I'll be back soon, I promise. And I got my phone on me. And my charger."
He sighed, blue eyes shooting towards the window with trepidation. "Alright, Doodlebug. It's just a little… odd. That's all."
She brushed off his words. "Story of my life," she muttered, then she leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Love you."
He didn't get the chance to ask anything else, because Beth was already opening the door and rushing out, shutting it behind her. She jogged down the porch steps and across the yard, following the driveway until she was at the end of the road. She was only a couple yards away when Rick's car pulled to the side and stopped.
Without so much as a glance back at the house, Beth opened the car door and slipped into the backseat. She shut the door, put her hood down, and looked forward to see Rick in the driver's seat and Daryl directly in front of her, occupying the passenger seat.
"Hey, Beth," the sheriff greeted, turning and flashing her a smile. "Nice weather we're havin', huh?"
Beth smiled back. "Yeah, you could say that." She put on her seatbelt as Rick proceeded to drive away from the farm. He picked up speed as he got further down the dirt road. She glanced over at Daryl, but all she saw was the back of his head. He hadn't said a word, or even grunted out a greeting.
Merle appeared in the seat beside her. "So, which bar in Atlanta we goin' to?"
She didn't respond, but he noticed the look on her face and the cold shoulder Daryl was giving her. He grinned.
"Aw, shit," he laughed. "This is gonna be entertaining as hell."
Beth could not agree less.
to be continued…
