RECAP:
Andrea makes it into the woods with the gun bag, a small herd close on her heels. It was almost midnight by the time she finally went down, the herd still following her and down to her last bullets. She was using a knife and the gun to bash the Walkers' heads in, unknowing of the person following her. She takes them all down, except one. She trips over a tree root, and the Walker falls on top of her, growling. In a last-ditch effort, the Beta tries to mimic the Howl for help.
A sword cuts the head of the Walker cleans off; the person holding it was also holding two Walkers on chains. They had backpacks on but no arms, and their bottom jaws were cut off. They made no move to attack, just staring with unblinking eyes. Andrea backs away as the Alpha woman kneels in front of her, flinging blood from her katana and putting it in its scabbard on her back. She pulls her hood back, revealing an attractive, black woman with dreadlocks around Andrea's age.
"You're quite fierce for a Beta." She says, her face void of emotion except her eyes; they narrow as they consider her. "Where is your Pack?"
"Herd." Andrea gasps, "A herd of Walkers came through. I lost them. My Alpha's dead, his successor and I don't get along; I don't know if I'll be allowed back even if I do find them. Thank you for helping me."
"Come on. We need to move now." The Alpha woman helps her to her feet and pulls her and the chained Walkers along, "Ignore them, their scent hides ours. We'll camouflage with them."
"My name is Andrea."
"Michonne."
…
Merle hears the Asian Alpha on the CB and watches everyone get the bags together, ignoring him. "Hey! Come on ya can't leave me here! Come on…. Morales!" They grab as many bags as they can hold and run down the stairs as fast as possible.
"T-Dog man! You can't leave me here, not chained like this! It's not human, come on." T-Dog freezes before he gets halfway to the door, shaking his head. Morales seems to understand and tells him to hurry. T-Dog turns around, dropping Dale's tools to grab the handcuff key from his pocket.
"YES! Yes, thank you! Thank you T-Dog, come on man." Merle tries to help by getting as close as he can, reaching out for the key, "Hand it over! Then you run, get back to the others!" T-Dog falters at the redneck Beta's words because, WHAT? He trips over one of the pipes and falls, dropping all the other bags and the key. He scrambles after it and watches it go down the drain.
Trembling, he looks at the other Beta, scared of what he'll do. "Man I…"
Merle shoots out a hand and grabs T-Dog by his shirt, pulling him closer. "Go. Get back to the others, leave me. Just… just do me a favor and tell Daryl I'm sorry. He'll try to come get me, with or without anyone else, just how he is. It's his nature to care about family; don't let him. Knock his ass out if ya gotta but don't let him come back for me. GO!"
T-Dog gets up, watching in shock as Merle sits down and rests his head on his knees, resigning himself to his fate. "I'll stay, I'll help you man. I can't leave you like this, I…."
"Will go down stairs and get back to the Quarry." Merle cuts him off, "You gotta make sure Daryl don't come looking for me. He doesn't need to see me like that."
T-Dog runs to the door, stopping at Dale's tools and kicking them over, making Merle look at him. The Beta pants, nodding to the tools now littered on the ground close to the other Beta, "It's not much but it's a chance. You know how to get back, make sure you do. Daryl needs you man, we both know it. I can block the door somehow…. I'm so sorry."
He made it to the door and was closing it when Merle called out to him, "Thank you for this. And T-Dog, I'm sorry, I shouldn't'veshouldn't've called you that, or Morales. Ya'll don't deserve it."
T-Dog chains the door closed with a padlock and bolts down the stairs. Merle listens to the others' call, sighs through his tears, and hears the car alarm and banging metal. He hears glass break and the Walkers coming in. He tries to focus his hearing like Daryl had taught him to and breathes easier when it works, picking out the group's heartbeats in two places, but everyone is accounted for. They were getting out of Atlanta, all of them but him. He takes off his belt and tries to get some of the tools closer for him to reach.
It's hours later when he'd already tried the wrench and a few of the other tools to get him out of the cuffs, when he heard the first Walkers coming for him. He had blood and dirt caked into his skin from the cuffs and the roof, making a thin shield from the Georgia sun. He was dehydrated and suffering from heatstroke but damn it if he'd lay down for them unnatural shits. He stays low and quiet, no reason to make himself a target any more than he already is. He slides under the pipe he was handcuffed to, closer to the door but hidden from view behind an AC unit. They push at the door and growl, knowing he's there but not able to see him. He could see them pushing but unable to get through, and he sends up his thanks to T-Dog for helping him even further. Laying the way he was, he could stretch just enough to get his belt buckle to touch the hacksaw. If he was lucky, he'd be able to cut through the chains; if not… Well, he wouldn't die up here now.
"Come on you little bitch, don't be a pussy." He whispers a hiss to himself. He manages to get the hand saw just as one of the Walkers, a kid, managed to pull half of its body through. Crawling towards him with the other Walkers in a frenzy behind it at one of their own getting through, Merle didn't think. He screams and cries as he cuts through the skin and muscle on his arm but keeps going. He'd done this at times when he was in the Army to fellow soldiers that needed amputees, so the blood and sound didn't faze him. The pain he'd experienced overseas, and before that at the hands of Bill Dixon, made it bearable. He stabbed the Walker when it got close enough to him and kept cutting. Down to the bone, he pushes himself just a bit more and breaks it close to the stump. The blood pools out in that spot, and he grabs his belt to stop the bleeding. When it was just a few drops here and there, he got to his feet, swaying from dehydration, blood loss, and shock from the pain.
He ignores the Walkers at the door and tosses the corpse of the little girl over. He goes to leave but pauses. He goes back to the puddle and pulls out Daryl's Suppressants; he wouldn't succumb to drugs again, and he won't be tempted either. He leaves them, knowing that his baby brother would come looking for him even if he did have Rick and T-Dog looking out for him.
He escapes through a side door with the wrench and takes out two of the fuckers. He drops the tool when he sways again, cursing. Leaning against the door, he sees a sign for a kitchen and gets an idea. Once inside, he turns on the stove, praying a little that it turns on. When the flame lights, he puts a piece of metal with a handle on it, letting it heat up. He goes to the window and leans his head on it, letting the cold glass help. He turns on the sink while he waits and fills some bowels with the little bit of water that comes out.
Drinking slowly, he regains enough energy to look at the stump that was now his right hand. It had clotted up some but was still bleeding. Merle needed to burn it before the Walker blood from the saw got into his bloodstream. He goes back to the stove, where the metal was already red. Taking the belt off, he puts it between his teeth and grabs the metal's handle with a couple potholders. He still feels the heat, but it wouldn't blister his hand too severely. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he bites down on the belt and presses the metal to his mangled wrist before he can second guess himself.
The Beta wouldn't be surprised if every Walker in the city came after him because of the noise from his throat. He reaches down and folds parts of the skin over the stump, and presses the metal down again. He repeats it until the skin comes to a point, which he then grounds down to get rid of all the burnt, black, dead skin. Setting the metal down with a shaky hand, he leans against the counter, looking for something to clean up with. A towel is used to wipe off the floor and countertop, and one of the last bowls of water is used to clean the blood from his arm. The Beta then searches the room for something to sanitize the wound and finds a bottle of alcohol. He takes a few sips for liquid courage then pours it onto the mess of boiling flesh. He bites down on the belt again and screams, then cleans it off with more water. Grabbing another towel, he wraps it up and sits down with the last of the water, taking slow sips. He tucks his hand into his chest to hold the towel. But after the third time it slips off, he growls, looking for something to hold it.
He searches the kitchen and a few offices before he finds everything. A metal utensil holder that's small enough is stuffed with bloody towels and placed over the stump. He takes some thin metal poles from the pan rack and lays them in the fire on the stove, taking the metal piece he used to cauterize his wrist and hammering the pipes flat. He takes some screws from cabinet doors and screws the pipes into the metal covering the stump. Using belts from the Walkers, he ties the metal pipes tight against his forearm and bicep. He uses the last and biggest screw to mount a kitchen knife onto the front, so his arm would still be of some use to him as a weapon. Holding it all together is an entire roll of duct tape.
Once he finishes his prosthetic, he raids the kitchen for food, piling everything into a duffel bag he'd found in an office. Careful not to jostle his injury too much, he secures the kitchen door and tries to settle down for a much-deserved rest. Just as he falls asleep, a loud door banging jolts him awake. The Beta forgot to stop focusing on his hearing, becoming aware of the noise of the Walkers on the roof. It was drawing more Walkers from downstairs to investigate while the Walkers upstairs that were losing interest were coming down. Soon the whole floor would be flooded, and a little wooden chair under the doorknob won't be enough to keep him safe.
He takes the other bloody towel, the one he used to clean up, and places it against the window before jamming his left elbow through the glass. The towel absorbs the noise to an extent, and Merle doesn't hear any Walkers coming towards the door, so he pats himself on the back.
A quiet whine leaves him as he steps out onto the fire escape. Daryl won't know where to come looking for him if he's not in the building. He forces himself to remember that's a good thing because his baby brother didn't need to see his Walker if he didn't make it. Seeing something like that would destroy him.
He makes it down to the alleyway, up the fire escape, and through the window before the first Walker shows up. The chair buckled under the weight of three, and Merle snorted, glad he didn't decide to toughen it out in there. More Walkers show up in the alley, and Merle backs away from the window. Going out into the hallway carefully, the Beta extends his hearing to the whole building. Less than a handful are inside, and all are downstairs. He goes into another office and closes the door after lighting a candle to see, then takes his shirt and vest off and fills the cracks with them. He moves the desk and bookcase in front of the door, which calls out to the Walkers, and they migrate up to find the noise source. Confident they can't get through, Merle settles down next to the lit candle and sleeps.
…
Merle spends two days in the office before he leaves Atlanta from the rooftops as much as he can. A ladder across the alley to another building could get him to the less populated area with smaller buildings and only small herds of Walkers bordering their hundreds.
The Beta steals gas and puts it into a car with the door wide open and the key still in the ignition. A new battery from one of the other cars just in case and as much gas as he can fill some containers and put them in the trunk. He makes sure the radio is off first before starting the car, remembering the last time he hadn't checked before joining the Quarry group.
Some asshole had jacked up his ride and turned the bass up so much the car had almost rocked itself on its side when they turned it on. Not to mention the loud ass rapping that came through the speakers had drawn every Walker in a 20-mile radius to their location. Daryl had refused to hunt for dinner for two weeks because of that, so it was up to Merle to provide canned goods from raiding houses. The Beta shakes his head and stops thinking about it. He'd be with his little brother soon. He gets out of the city and all the way to the mountains before noticing something wrong. The RV wasn't visible from the road. With a bad feeling in his gut, he drives the rest of the way to the Quarry.
He hits his knees with a tiny wail when he sees everything has gone; the tents, the cars, the PEOPLE. Where was everyone? Then he notices the red charger with a map taped to it, telling someone named Morgan that Atlanta wasn't safe and the Quarry had been overrun. The route to the CDC was highlighted, saying that's where they'd be.
He checks the camp, knowing that Daryl would have left him something if he thought he'd come back. He finds the pile of burnt Walkers, the campfire pits, the tents of people that died still put up. It was stupid of the group to not take with them, but whatever. He finds his message with the tent he and Daryl had shared, or right next to it at least. A small hole was dug, and Merle's hunting knife was stabbed into it, a grave marker. Around the hilt were a chain and a plastic bag with a piece of paper inside. Taking the paper first, Merle reads it.
Daryl tells him he's an asshole if he died and left Daryl alone; he's an asshole if he lived and didn't come back, and he's an asshole if he did come back, but not before they left, meaning Daryl was left to wonder. He tells Merle his fear about the group finding out and making him leave or worst; tells him about their decision to go to the CDC and that Daryl was taking his bike and truck cause fuck him if he's dead, he doesn't need them, and Daryl wanted something to remember him by. Merle just laughs while he reads the note and then puts it in the bag again and into his pocket. When he met up again with his baby brother, they'd laugh together and burn the letter. He pulls the chain up and whines loudly, his excellent mood disappearing.
They were his dog tags, the ones he'd given Daryl. Attached to it were the two little aluminum can pieces Daryl had made when he was younger. Carved into the metal of one were the letters CGROME; can't get rid of me easily. The other read a two-word question/demand; come home. Merle had a matching set on his copy of Daryl's tags around his neck. Daryl had followed Merle's footsteps into the Military. Merle had served two tours, where Daryl had only served one. They kept the tags and the little aluminum trinkets with them everywhere they went. And now Daryl was marking his brother's grave with his tags, a true honor.
Their mother had helped his boys make them before Merle had been deployed the first time. They made their mom a bracelet made from deer hide with the same acronym Daryl had stained into the leather. They burned it and spread its remains into the forest along with their mother's ashes once Merle had gotten home a year later. The Beta makes his way to his car, takes the map, and drives to the CDC, Daryl's tags in his pocket.
It's not a real long drive, two days at most, but he does have to stop and refill the tank at least once. When he gets there, he pulls over and cries. The building was gone; the rubble was still smoking, pumping white smoke into the sky. His little brother, his little Daryl, was gone. He doesn't move for a long time, pulling his tags out and putting them on too, clutching them all in one hand, even as Walkers start to surround the car.
He mourns for his brother, the little Omega he'd raised like his own, and made sure would be able to handle himself should anyone try to force him into anything. He mourns his brother's laugh that was as rare as their daddy's sober days, and he mourns the man and family he'd always prayed Daryl would have and become. When the sun starts to set and the Walkers disperse, Merle leaves Atlanta behind him. He remembered Officer Friendly, Rick, telling Morales and the others about where he was from, the little town with a small number of Walkers. That would be an excellent place to start; he needed to find a new group. He needed to find this Morgan.
…..
King County wasn't that far from Lipton County, where their uncle Jesse lived, less than a half-hour drive. Rick and the Dixon brothers had probably gone to the same grocery stores and churches. Rick might've even brought his car over to the garage Merle and Daryl had worked at to get his oil changed or shit. It was surreal, but the little town was cute. Merle finds the hospital Rick had woken up in, searches it for medicine, then heads out to the Army base and picks out some new weapons. Knives, guns, and ammo are all stored into a new car that gets better mileage, along with the meds he'd gotten. Rick was a fucking idiot for leaving without this stuff, though if it had only been a week since he got up, then it made it a little more sense.
The Beta heads over to the neighborhoods, looking for anything he might be able to find. It's a chance that he sees the jeep with guns in it, and he doesn't waste time. Pulling up in front of this little house, he's about to grab them and go when he hears a heartbeat; a fast one, a scared one. Hearing Walkers growling has him inside before he knows what he's doing, and the slight smell of Omega has him digging his new prosthetic weapon into the Walker's head just as it goes to bite down on the young Omega's neck.
"NO! DUANE!" A male Alpha jumps up the last steps from the basement and pulls the pup closer as it starts to chirp in terror; the Omega's tears flee from wide eyes. Because he has to be his father, the man checks the boy over for bites or scratches. He sobs in relief when he finds none and scents his pup to calm him, purring softly.
"Daddy, who's that?" The pup, Duane, points at Merle, where the Beta had fallen. Merle bites his lip to keep from screaming in pain, the scent of blood high in the air. The Walker's teeth were biting down on Merle's prosthetic instead of the Omega's glands, with the knife embedded in its neck at an upwards angle. The amputation was bleeding again because it was jostled too much. Merle had fallen backward with the Walker to keep its nails away from the pup's skin.
The Beta pushes the Walker away and sits up, finding two guns pointed at his head. He raises his hand and the prosthetic in the air. "No harm no foul. Just making sure it was a clear house. I can see it's occupied so I'll make my leave."
"Wait." The Alpha demands. Merle's hackles rise, but he forces himself to calm down. The Alpha wasn't trying to control him; he was protecting his pup. That was something Merle understood well. "What's your wound? Don't lie, I can smell the blood."
Merle points at his metal-covered wrist and nods towards Duane. "Pretty graphic, might want to close your eyes pup."
The Alpha's eyes narrow in confusion, but he still consents to his son turning around. Most Betas refer to the young as children, not pups. This one was raised around mostly the other dynamics instead of Betas. When he pulls the metal contraction off and the towel, it reveals a red, irritated stump. The Beta starts talking, "Wasn't bit or nothin'. Got it caught in something too close to a herd; didn't want to be eaten and couldn't get the whole thing out so…."
"How long ago? It doesn't look like it happened today." The Alpha lowers his gun.
"Maybe a couple of days now?" The Beta shrugs, "Names Merle Dixon." He waits for the look of disgust or wary understanding but only gets a nod and name in return. Morgan and Duane Jones were obviously not locals.
"You must be the one Officer Friendly mentioned." Merle hands the map to the Alpha.
"Rick?" Morgan says as he reads it. "He's a part of your group?"
"I guess." Merle shrugs, putting the contraption back over his stump just as Duane turns around, "Was with them when he left me in Atlanta. That's a death trap and the CDC is gone. Wouldn't bother heading in that direction if I was you."
"You saved my son, let me bind your wound better. Come on." Morgan has Merle follow him to the house they were occupying and bring both of their hauls inside. The Alpha cleans the Beta's wrist and scrapes off the rest of the dead skin that Merle hadn't gotten the first time. While they eat, Merle tells them about how he got stuck on the rooftop to Atlanta, including the words that had landed him in handcuffs. When Morgan hears the reference to the word, he growls at the Beta, to which Merle spreads his arms, allowing the Alpha to punish him should he wish to.
"I spent over eighteen years of my life hearing that word fall from my old man's mouth more than him demanding his beer. Wasn't a habit I kicked easily, but I did. When it gets around my son's anniversary, I fall off the wagon damn hard. Old habits come back to haunt me. Not something I'm proud of." Merle sighs, running a hand over his face.
"Your son died?" Duane asked, "What happened?"
"He got sick; pneumonia. It's been years since it happened though. His name was Lemuel, but we called him Lemmy. Was one of the neighborhood kids that had a limp; a runt. Took him in when no one else would and loved him like my own. His death anniversary was last week." Merle wipes his eyes and clears his throat, "If you don't want me around just let me know and I'll leave come morning. You have to protect your pup, I can understand that."
"What kind of neighborhood did you come from?" Morgan asks.
"It was a Polkrato Pack. We moved to a New-School area when my baby brother Daryl presented an Omega. They'd have shot him dead had I not made a deal with my sire and if my uncle hadn't of bought him until he turned eighteen and switched over." Duane whines at that, and his dad purrs in comfort.
The two share a look, and then the Alpha asks about Rick, "Aren't you meeting up with the rest of your Pack later?"
Merle swallows, "They're gone. They went to the CDC, but that place runs on electricity and generators just like every other building. When it runs out of juice the air tight building opens, and that can release millions of diseases and viruses. Weaponized smallpox and sh- stuff like that. The CDC is designed to self-destruct should it run out of power to keep that from happening."
"You sure know a lot about it; did ya work there?" Duane gets excited and looks to his dad to make sure he isn't overstepping. Merle looks at him as well. When the Alpha nods his permission, Merle answers by pulling out his dog tags.
"Military, two tours. Ya pick up on some things in that kind of work."
"That's so cool!" Duane pulls out a pair too from his shirt, "Dad was a combat medic."
Morgan and Merle share a nod of acknowledgment, then clean up the rest of the food, and hunker down to sleep. Merle lets Duane play with his makeshift prosthetic until he falls asleep while Merle and Morgan talk about their military experiences. The Alpha settles down with his pup and grooms his hair while he purrs.
"Where are you planning on going now if you don't stay with us?" When Merle shrugs, Morgan tells him that he's welcome to stay with them.
"You want a racist, redneck, asshole around your pup? Really?"
"You don't give me a reason to kill you and I won't." Merle laughs and shakes Morgan's hand, their gland oils mixing as the bond forms.
Merle watches his new Pack Alpha lay down next to his pup while the Beta settles in to take first watch. "I got some plans for this place; make it secure for our Pack. Tell y'all all about it in the mornin'. Sleep well Alpha."
…
Andrea and Michonne had been traveling with each other for a few weeks when they came across a wall spray-painted with the words: GO AWAY, STAY AWAY.
The Alpha and Beta grab their weapons and hold them out in front of them. Michonne ties the two Walkers up to a light post, and they make their way through it, coming out into a small village-like town. Cars were lining the streets with large wooden spears sticking out of the windows and trunks. Wooden palettes were braced against cars, forcing them to follow a path down the middle of the street.
There was more spray paint on the road reading: TURN AROUND AND LIVE.
They duck under some barbed wire and get about halfway down the road when they find themselves surrounded. In full police riot gear and ski mask, a preteen points an AK-47 assault rifle at them, standing at their twelve. Two men in the same clothes with military-issued Yankee Hill Machine M4s stand at their eight and four; one was bracing his gun with a MacGyver-looking prosthetic where his right hand should have been. There was an Alpha, a Beta, and an Omega; a full Pack even if it was small. Andrea brings her gun up and leaves it with the Alpha male while Michonne keeps her sword pointed between the other two.
Just as the Alpha brings up his own gun to shoot, the Beta steps in the way. "Woah, woah, woah, easy Alpha! They don't mean no harm; I can vouch for blondie."
"How do you know I don't mean any harm?" Andrea demands, pointing her gun at him.
"Because I know you, you won't shoot a man for protecting his Omegan son." The Beta pulls his mask off and spreads his arms wide with a shit-eating grin. "Now why don't you give your old pal Merle a big hug?"