The sound of metal against bone was nauseating. Daryl fought against the urge to empty the contents of his stomach and instead focused on a way to get himself and the others out of this mess. He eyed the small collection of weapons that the others had created at Merle's behest and noted the contents of it: Dale's rifle, T-dog's shotgun, Andrea's pistol, Rick's revolver, Shane's glock and pocket knife and Glenn's bat. The other weapons they had must be scattered about, inside the vehicles and such. This pile would just be what the others had on them when confronted with Merle. If he could just get to those weapons...
He tested the rope he was tied with. There was next to no slack when he tugged on it and the branch was sturdy; no chance of breaking that. He tried reaching the knots on his wrists, maybe he could loosen them enough to wriggle his hands free. There was no way that Merle could have been the one to string him up, not with one hand. Daryl could only hope whoever was forced to tie him had tried to make the knots loose enough that he'd be able to escape.
Twisting and pulling, he seemed to be making a bit of progress; although, he could feel the flesh around his wrists tearing even more with each move he made, but that was hardly of consequence right now. Right now, he had to save the camp before Merle killed them all.
He looked back over at the group; Rick had nearly sawed through the bone at this point and was looking positively green, along with Glenn and T-dog. Carl and Lori were both sobbing uncontrollably, and Sophia had her face buried in mother's shoulder. Dale had that wide-eyed look of concern on his face, while Andrea watched with hatred and despair etched into her features. Shane looked torn between ready to kill and a desperate hopelessness born of knowing there's nothing that can be done.
Just as Rick choked on a scream and finished cutting off his hand, Daryl managed to free one of his own. He discreetly began working on his other hand as quickly as possible, keeping a close eye on the group in front of him. They were a good 15 feet away next to the fire pit, with the group facing him and Merle's back to him. Seems that Merle didn't feel he was a threat being all tied up; that was just the break he needed. As Merle began ordering Glenn and T-dog to build a fire, Daryl just hoped he'd stay busy enough to refrain from turning around.
The pain in Rick's arm was more intense than he could have imagined that it'd be; he sat there cradling his bloodied stump with Lori hugging him from behind. As soon as he'd cut his hand away and Merle began ordering Glenn and T-dog around, she was attached to him, doing her best to offer comfort in a comfortless situation.
"Ok, that frying pan right there?" Merle gestured to a handful of cooking utensils sitting next to the fire pit, "That'll do just fine. Chink, heat that thing up."
"Why?" Glenn asked nervously, "What are you gonna do with it?"
Instead of an answer, he received a question, "Did I say to ask me about my intentions? Do what I tell you, Yellow, before someone gets hurt!" he shook Carl a bit, causing the boy to cry harder and shouts of "NO!" all around. Without another word, Glenn practically threw the pan into the fire.
"That's better." Merle growled, "Now, we're just going to let that heat up real nice for a couple minutes. Then you," he pointed to Rick's pale form, "will get to finish the experience."
Rick cringed at these words. He'd known this was coming when the fire had been ordered, and really, he did need to cauterize the wound; but that didn't mean he was looking forward to it. He couldn't help but wonder how it had come to this. He, Shane and Glenn had come back to camp excited, they'd already found a potential building to set up shop at, only to walk into a nightmare.
There was a part of him that was in no way surprised that Merle had survived; but to find him holding camp hostage with his own brother unconscious and hanging by his wrists from a tree? No, he'd never expected that. But despite any and all of his expectations, here they were, in just that situation; and now he was missing his right hand and waiting to burn the wound closed.
"Time's up, Friendly," came the sneer from Merle, "Git over here and take care of yourself now."
Reluctantly, he pulled away from Lori and moved over to the edge of the fire pit. With a shaking hand, he pulled the frying pan out; thankfully only slightly burning himself on the handle. In Glenn's haste to follow directions, he'd still managed to keep the handle mostly clear of the flames. Sweat was already coursing down Rick's forehead; he felt weak and sick, and putting a burning piece of metal to his freshly shorn stump was not going to help matters there.
Merle was getting impatient with watching his victim contemplate his dilemma. "We're waiting." To emphasize his point, he pressed the gun harder into Carl's cheek.
"Ok! Ok!" Rick pleded for his son's life, "I'm doing it." Instead of gingerly bringing the heated surface to his flesh he did it quick, figuring it best to just get it over with. As soon as the metal touched his frayed skin, he knew it wouldn't have mattered how he went about the process. This was excruciating. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, attempting to keep the scream locked in his throat at bay; he was trying so hard to be strong for Lori and Carl, especially Carl. But it was no use. The agonized yell escaped from him, and it felt like it would never stop.
Daryl halted in crouching down to pick up a weapon from the pile upon hearing the scream that Rick let out. Was this what it had been like for Merle when he'd had to do this? He hoped not, but knew he was just kidding himself with such hopes. Despite everything Merle was putting them through he still loved his brother; even as he was coming to terms with the fact that, one or the other would very likely be dead by the other's hand at the end of the day. There was no saving Merle, not after this. This thought cut him to his core; but he knew it was up to him do something, and he intended to.
Not wasting any more time he grabbed the weapon he had mentally selected while breaking loose from his bonds. Shane's pocket knife. God knows they'd been making enough racket, there was no need to draw any more walkers than they already were by firing a gun. Besides, this knife would do the trick; it was a good four inches long, and judging by how many times he'd seen Shane shaving with it, knew it had to be razor sharp. Slowly and quietly, he began creeping up behind Merle.
So far, no one had noticed him. They were all too preoccupied with Rick's hand, or rather, lack thereof. With bated breath, he snuck up behind his brother, using all his hunter's prowess to remain undetected. Just a few more steps and he'd be within range. His heart was pounding with adrenalin; he was certain Merle would hear it, no matter how irrational that was. As soon as he'd closed the distance he trapped Merle in a headlock, the knife at his throat.
"You best let the boy go." He demanded calmly in his brother's ear.
However, Merle didn't seem fazed by this sudden turn of events. "Oh, I see you decided to join the party, huh, little brother?" With that said, and faster than anyone could have anticipated, he tossed Carl to the side and threw Daryl over his shoulders, somehow managing to keep a hold of his pistol while doing so.
Daryl landed hard on his back only narrowly avoiding the flames. The others were shouting again, trying to stay out of the way of the two brawling men, and looking for opportunities to help, where none seemed to come. With no time to recover from the harsh landing he rolled quickly to the side, just before his face would have become better acquainted with his brother's elbow. There was a loud crack as the joint met the unforgiving ground instead; Merle cursed and rolled to the side a bit exposing his chest to Daryl. Now was his chance, and Daryl took it. Aiming for Merle's heart, he let loose with the knife, thrusting the weapon with as much force as he could.
He felt the knife connect with Merle's flesh simultaneous with the gunshot that rang out. In that instant, all he could focus on were the bright red drops that began decorating the ground beneath him and Merle; and for that one, sickening moment after the shot was fired the entire camp went still.