Boots and Ghosts and Turnips, Oh My!
"Ya didn't mention the boots," Merle chimed.
Beth furrowed her brow but didn't glance back and ask what he meant. Instead she added, "He said, um… when he killed your dad - "
"Y'mean when 'e slit Pa's throat from ear ta ear?" Daryl interrupted. His smirk faded along with the spark in his eyes. His voice was flat and emotionless and his stare was unwavering, set on her so hard that she felt like she was shrinking in her seat.
But Merle was cackling behind her, joyfully declaring, "Yeah! Shit yeah, I did!"
She nodded hesitantly, swallowing hard and struggling to keep her eyes locked on Daryl's expectant gaze. "Yeah… when he did that. He said the blood got all over his 'good' boots and ruined them." She felt sick with every word that left her mouth and she wasn't even sure why it mattered. Why would Merle want her to repeat that part specifically?
Then Daryl's brow creased and he began to worry his lower lip, trepidation appearing on his face as he registered her statement. His grasp on the beer mug tightened. Merle went quiet. Beth sat tensed and waiting, trying to figure out how a pair of boots had anything to do with the situation at hand.
It felt like an eternity but it couldn't have been more than a solid minute. Daryl finally nodded his head and glanced toward Merle's general direction.
Then he spoke plainly through an audible veil of doubt, "So what'd ya do with 'em, asshole?"
Without missing a beat, Merle quipped back, "Burned 'em, dipshit. Tried ta clean 'em but it didn't work. Took three weeks jus' ta get the stains outta my favorite jacket."
Beth cleared her throat and tried to still her trembling hands. She repeated Merle's words and clung to them like an anchor as she gauged Daryl's reaction. "He said he tried to clean 'em but he ended up having to burn them. And it took three weeks to get the stains out of his favorite jacket."
Daryl grunted and his eyes kept flicking between her and the general area where Merle was standing. Then the living Dixon grunted and quickly asked, "That ugly-ass tan one that ya ripped the sleeves off'a?"
Merle laughed and responded, "Yeah, that one. Had it in the washer a couple days 'fore I died."
"Yeah," Beth repeated, confidence building within her. "He said he had it in the washer a couple of days before he died."
Daryl scowled and said, "It was still in there. All covered in mold. I threw it out."
"Goddammit," Merle grumbled angrily. "I wanted ta be buried in that thing."
Beth couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter, which she quickly covered with a cough and a hand over her mouth. She shook her head and told Daryl, "He seems pretty disappointed - says he wanted to be buried in it."
Daryl laughed humorlessly and snubbed out his burnt-down cigarette pointedly. "Yeah well - too little, too late. Had 'im cremated."
"What?!"
Beth was more discreet about her shock. She raised her eyebrows and gave Daryl a curious, wide-eyed stare. "Oh - cremated? Really?"
Daryl nodded. "Yeah. Too damn expensive ta bury 'im. An' the morgue charged daily," he explained matter-of-factly. "Damn near drained my bank account."
"Oh, I see how it is - so they called it a suicide an' burned me up 'cause this li'l shithead couldn't foot the bill. Jus' closed the whole goddamn book on Merle Dixon 'cause the next of kin is a cheap asshole," Merle said scornfully. He scoffed and yelled out angrily, "You fuckin' selfish prick! After everythin' I did fer you…!"
Beth frowned but did her best to tune him out. It would be no use telling Daryl how angry his dead brother was. And she didn't need any more reasons for him to be suspicious or think that she had ulterior motives.
Thankfully, before Merle could fill her ear with any more furious ramblings, Daryl asked, "So where is it?"
She froze and studied his face. Merle went silent behind her.
"Where's what?" She asked quietly.
He shrugged nonchalantly and his gaze drifted over toward Merle's general direction once again. "Pa's statue."
She whipped her head around to look at Merle expectantly. He had a smug smirk on his face and his back straightened proudly as he answered, "I hid it. Put it somewhere I knew that fucker'd never find it."
She turned back to see Daryl watching her curiously and repeated, "He said he hid it somewhere that your dad would never find it."
"Huh," Daryl grunted, taking a swig of beer and slamming the mug down decisively atop the table. "Well ain't that convenient."
Beth glared at him with livid indignation. "For who?"
"Fer you," he growled. "Still tryin'a get me ta go somewhere else."
She rolled her eyes and heaved an exasperated sigh. Merle groaned behind her.
"Jesus fuck, he's more stubborn'an ever without me around," the dead Dixon grumbled.
"Yer tellin' me," she agreed. Daryl eyed her like she'd grown a second head but she couldn't have said she cared at this point.
"Le's go find it then," Merle suggested. "Tell 'im he can drive, I'll give the directions - "
"He'll just think we're takin' him to get jumped," she mumbled resentfully.
"Goddammit."
"Can you stop that shit?" Daryl snapped, scowling. "Ain't fuckin' convincin' me by pretending ta talk to somebody that ain't there."
Beth was at her wit's end. She sighed loudly and sat up, grasping the edge of the table and standing to her feet. "Whatever, dude. Look - I'm not here because I think it's fun. As much of a pleasure as it's been to meet y'all - I don't want anything from you. I knew you wouldn't believe me but Merle wouldn't listen so here I am, makin' a damn fool outta myself for nothing. So I'm gonna leave and how 'bout we just pretend this never happened - "
"The shit?! Ya can't quit on me now, blondie!" Merle cried out.
She turned and shot him a death glare over her shoulder. "There's no point. We're going in circles. He's never gonna believe me."
"Show 'im the map!"
"To what? To the place he thinks he's gonna be ambushed?"
"What the fuck are you talkin' about?" Daryl cut in, and Beth whipped her head around to face him once more.
She shook her head and stepped away from the table, checking that she had her phone and purse. "Nothing. I'm crazy. Okay? Yer right. I'm just another one a those really elaborate con-artists. An' I have this stupid frickin' map and it's useless anyway so - ya know what, if Merle thinks you should see it, then by all means."
She unzipped the front pocket of her small purse and yanked out the folded-up map, chucking it down on the tabletop. Then she hmphed emphatically and spun on her heel to walk away.
She ignored Merle's cries of outrage and loud curses. She kept her eyes on the front door, eager to escape the suffocating confines of the bar. And Daryl's scrutinizing, shrinking glare. Merle would follow after her eventually. He always did.
But this time, he didn't. As she stepped out into the cool evening air and the door fell shut behind her, he remained with Daryl, where she could clearly hear his voice rising higher and higher with anger until he was downright screaming in fury. There was a lot of "fucking useless bitch" and "goddamn ungrateful asshole of a brother" and "I ain't beggin' nobody and I ain't fucking leaving till somebody LISTENS ta me!"
But she simply shut her eyes and took in a deep, calming breath. Then she willed herself to take a step forward and begin heading toward the truck. Maybe she'd get lucky and Merle would stay behind. She could hope.
The sound of shattering glass made her halt in her tracks and nearly jump out of her skin. She spun around to see a pile of broken glass on the sidewalk and a puddle of beer. The big plate glass window next to the front door had a gaping hole in the middle of it, huge cracks spiderwebbing their way outward and bits of glass dropping to the ground as it continued to fall apart. Beth trembled as she examined the scene before her, mere feet from where she'd been standing just a moment ago. Then she lifted her gaze and peered through the shattered window to see a few people tussling.
A loud ruckus started up from inside and she took a fearful step back, farther away from the front door. A second later, the door was opening and Daryl was being shoved out while the angry yells of a man told him to "get the fuck outta here before I make you pay fer that shit!" Daryl argued but didn't fight back, still cursing loudly as the door was slammed shut in his face.
Beth was at a loss for words and completely confused. What the hell just happened? As if on cue, Merle appeared beside her. His face was bright red and he immediately began pacing back and forth, furiously grumbling under his breath while his fists clenched at his sides.
"The fuck did you do?!" Daryl cried, turning on Beth.
She blinked, dumbfounded. Her lips parted but no sound came out. She glanced over at Merle but he was ignoring her, incoherently cursing Daryl and stalking back and forth beside her.
Daryl gestured to the mess of broken glass behind him and the shattered window, face scrunched up and nearly as red as Merle's. He shouted at her, "I know you fuckin' did somethin' ta my goddamn beer! You jus' got me kicked outta my favorite fucking bar! What the hell'd you do? Huh?!"
Beth couldn't wipe the stupid look off her face. She stared up at Daryl cluelessly and asked, "What are you talking about? What the hell happened?!"
"Don't play dumb with me, li'l girl," Daryl growled, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "I know you did somethin'. That mug flew outta my goddamn hand and straight through that fuckin' window - I didn't even lift a finger!"
She blinked again and glanced over at Merle. He stopped pacing and met her gaze with a stone cold glare.
"I did it. You know I did it, Beth - tell 'im. Make sure he knows what I'm fuckin' capable of," he growled menacingly. His yellow-tinted teeth clenched and he added, "I ain't playin' these fucking games no more."
A chill ran through her and she looked back to Daryl hesitantly. The fear must've been evident on her face because his features softened, though he was still furious and his whole body was tensed in anticipation, poised like he was ready to fight.
"It was Merle," she said plainly, trying her hardest to keep her voice from sounding shaky. "He's right next to me. He says he wants you to know what he's capable of."
Daryl's eyes narrowed and he scowled. She saw his hands clenching into tight fists at his side, his shoulders going stiff.
"I swear, Daryl. I'm not makin' this up and there's no way I could've made that happen," she insisted, pushing all of her remaining confidence into her words. "I swear it on my mama's grave."
He slashed an arm through the air angrily. "Bullshit! This is all a crock a fuckin' shit an' I ain't fallin' for it. You think you can use my dead brother against me ta get whatever it is you want from me? Nah. Ain't happenin'. You leave me the hell alone - I mean it."
Before she could argue, he spun around and stomped off toward his bike.
"Fucking stop him! This is our last chance! He's got no idea how serious this shit is, you gotta make 'im see it already!" Merle yelled, gesturing desperately to Beth. "Fucking do something!"
But Daryl was climbing onto his bike and starting it up and the sound was deafening, rumbling loudly in her ears until she could no longer hear Merle's cries of outrage. Then the living Dixon sped off, spitting up gravel and dirt behind him. And just like that, he'd driven off and disappeared down the road.
Beth stood frozen for a long moment, Merle's continued cursing falling on deaf ears. Finally, she sighed and slumped her shoulders in defeat. She turned around and began walking back to the truck, shaking her head and massaging her left temple with a fingertip.
There was simply no way to convince a non-believer like Daryl. No matter how much evidence she gave him. If he didn't want to help her, there was no way she could ever make him help.
And as terrifying as the realization was, it was beginning to look like she might be stuck with Merle forever.
Merle refused to get back into the truck and leave, crossing his arms and stamping his feet like an insolent toddler. But once he realized Beth was pulling away from the bar and driving off with or without him, he appeared in the passenger seat and rode along with her.
He ranted and raved the whole way, cursing her and his brother all the same. After a few miles, Beth cranked up the radio and tried to tune him out. But he was like a broken record. The throbbing inside her skull was returning with a vengeance and she was eager to get home and hide away in her bedroom, even if it meant shoving in some earbuds and cranking up her music until Merle's voice was no more than muffled background noise. She had nothing to say to him and no desire to argue - she didn't have the energy to argue. There was nothing to dispute. Daryl Dixon was an even bigger stubborn asshole than his brother and there was no way Beth could convince him that she wasn't completely out of her mind. So why waste the time talking to a brick wall when she could put that effort into exploring other options?
Though what other options were left, she was not sure. But she wasn't going to give up that easily. There had to be some other way. There just had to be.
No way in hell would she sit by and watch some deranged redneck haunt her family.
She drove in the late evening moonlight down dark dirt roads and past wide open fields full of shadows, bright headlights the only beacon amongst gravel and overgrown weeds. Merle smoked out the window and kept grumbling angrily, his voice rising every now and then and his arm slashing through the air much like his brother's had in front of the bar. Beth was lost in her own head, though. She was navigating on autopilot, heading out to an area that always calmed her, desperate for a moment of solace to gather her thoughts.
Like the peace of the woods where she often liked to retreat, the wide open field that she drove into and parked was another place of escape. It sat atop a large hill that looked down upon endless miles of green Georgia landscape. She was surrounded by acres and acres of absolutely nothing but nature. It was one of the few escapes she had - somewhere she could go where her family couldn't bother her and she could sit and think without looking around and feeling trapped. And even though Merle was with her, not even he could ruin this place for her.
Though he undoubtedly tried. As she stepped away from the truck and sat down in the dying grass to look out at the view, she could still hear his crass comments. He wound up leaning against the grill of the truck, smoking a cigarette with a smug smirk on his face. She could feel his eyes on her back but ignored them.
She needed to sort through her thoughts. She needed to figure out what the hell she was supposed to do next. But her mind was racing and she couldn't seem to slow it down. If she were being honest, she was feeling more terrified than anything. Daryl had been her only real hope… and he didn't even believe her.
So who would?
"Oh boy," Merle muttered. "The heart, she hollers."
Beth sighed and all the exhaustion from the long day left her lungs in one loud and heavy breath. Her legs were criss-crossed in front of her and she kept her eyes on the view ahead, the rolling hills and yellow-green landscape and shedding trees. She didn't bother glancing back at him.
"I come out here to think," she said simply. "In peace and quiet. Maybe you could shut up for just a few solid minutes and let me do that."
She heard him sucking in a long drag from his cigarette and exhaling with a grunt. "I could. But there ain't no point in that. Time's a-tickin', princess. Daryl ain't gonna - "
"My name is Beth. And just shut up about him already," she snapped. "He's not a part of this - we have ta figure it out on our own. 'Cause he's not gonna help us."
Merle immediately became indignant. "Bullshit! That's my brother, he's always gonna be a part a this! You jus' ain't tryin' hard enough 'cause ya don't give a fuck."
Beth squeezed her eyes shut and refrained from lashing out at him. It wouldn't get her anywhere so there was no point. Plus, she was sick and tired of having yelling matches with a ghost.
"I tried everything, Merle," she said through gritted teeth. "Even if he believes me, it's pretty clear he wants nothing ta do with you anymore… dead or alive."
"Oh yeah? That what you think?" He laughed humorlessly. "Well you don't know shit. You don't know my brother, dunno how he operates. If you'd listen ta me - "
"And what?! Bat my eyelashes, shake my hips? What's yer next ingenious suggestion - suck his dick?"
"Yeah! Exactly! Goddamn, blondie, if ya'd just listened to me in the first place - "
She finally turned her head and looked back at him with a furious glare. "That's not how this works, you white trash moron. I can't seduce him into helpin' us."
"Ya say that but ya won't even give it a try."
"Because it's pointless! How d'you not get that?!"
"'Cause there ain't no gettin' ta be got, ya stubborn li'l bitch! You wanna act so goddamn strong an' be all sassy - tryin'a tell me what's best! - but here we are, huh? Yer ready ta give up, jus' like that - like the spoiled li'l princess I knew you was. Jus' 'cause Daryl won't fall right inta yer lap like some kinda puppy dog."
She clenched her jaw and averted her gaze down to his boots, ashamed of how much his words actually stung. She'd never been the quittin' type. And she didn't want to become that now, when it could matter most.
"Well I got a newsflash for ya, sweetheart: us Dixons ain't easily convinced. We're hard-headed an' stubborn as all hell. So be it. You knew this wasn't gonna be easy. That jus' means ya gotta put in a little more effort… ya feel?"
"Seems ta me like you don't know your brother as well as you think you do," she said coldly. Her eyes locked onto his and she could see a brief moment of uncertainty flicker across his features.
Then his face hardened and he scowled at her. "Reckon you best not talk outta yer ass like that," he growled. "'Specially around me."
She brushed off his threat and said matter-of-factly, "Either he wants ta believe it or he doesn't - and he doesn't. Cut yer losses an' move on already." Then she went back to gazing out at the view, shoulders relaxing as the relief of telling Merle off settled within her muscles.
But it was short-lived. He scoffed and quipped back, "The losses ain't mine, sweetheart. Best you remember that 'fore ya do somethin' you end up regrettin'."
Beth rolled her eyes, unfazed by his tireless redundancy, and muttered, "Whatever. I don't care anymore. Do whatever it is yer gonna do... I can't go ta that Swamp Witch by myself anymore an' even if I could, I left the map with Daryl. So unless you've got some other brilliant idea as to who could possibly help solve this mess, we're fucked. It's the end of the line, sweetheart." She made sure to put heavy sarcastic emphasis on the last word.
He laughed obnoxiously and the sound grated on every last nerve she had left. So she added scornfully, "'S just like my dad says: you can't squeeze blood out of a turnip."
Merle's laughter faded and he scoffed. "Oh yeah? Well 's jus' like my dad says: Dixons ain't turnips. Least that's what he used ta say before I opened up his throat." He cackled coldly.
She tried to tune out his words, gazing out at the usually beloved scene before her. But she felt nothing except tense and anxious. She realized her final little getaway was no longer a getaway at all because she couldn't get the hell away from Merle Dixon.
There was no escaping this - whatever it was. She had to face it somehow. Head on. And she couldn't give up. No matter how badly Merle made her want to.
Beth turned into the long driveway of the farmhouse with a sense of great relief, slowing as she went and preparing to park. Not even Merle's presence could diminish how utterly grateful she was to finally be home. Most of the lights inside the house were on, glowing through the windows, and the porchlight cast a bright beam across the front yard. But as soon as she saw the parked motorcycle, her breath hitched in her chest.
Merle noticed it at the same time and exclaimed gleefully, "Oh-ho-ho! Well would ya look at that!"
She was too dumbfounded to say anything. All she could do was park the big black Ford in its usual spot and turn off the engine, fingers going numb as she clumsily pocketed the keys and stepped out of the truck.
She was half-expecting to find someone entirely different inside her house, but deep down she knew that the bike parked outside was too recognizable. It was all too familiar since she'd watched it speed away from her less than an hour ago. What the hell is the big idea - did he come here to tell my family that I'm crazy?
Merle was giddy with anticipation, nearly bouncing on his heels as he urged her inside and yammered on about how he was right and how he'd known Daryl would come around no matter how stupid she'd made herself look. She ignored the snide remarks and marched into the house with a sense of dread, as well as a thousand and one questions swirling around in her head.
When she opened and stepped through the front door, she found a lit but empty entryway. Then she heard voices coming from the kitchen. She followed the sound on tingly feet with Merle tight at her side and boasting louder than ever. As she stepped into the kitchen, her eyes landed on a surprising and unsettling scene, and she froze right in front of the doorway.
Her dad was sitting at the kitchen table with Daryl, mugs of coffee set between them, and Shawn was standing at Hershel's side, smiling and listening intently to whatever it was Daryl was mumbling about. They didn't even notice Beth's presence for a solid few seconds. But when they did, all eyes turned on her. She remained petrified where she stood, at a complete loss for words. Merle cackled loudly.
What the hell was Daryl doing here? And how would she ever explain this to her daddy and Shawn?
to be continued...
