Jenny dropped the glass jars into a canvas bag. She was glad it'd been a farm house, fresh canned food, home cooking and no need for a can opener. The pantry was almost empty, dry ingredients would be of little to no use on the road. Jenny found an oiled sack hanging behind the door, and loaded it with the jars she'd found. She poked at a muslin wrapped cone, peeling back the sticky fabric to find hard, brown sugar. That too went into the bag, readily available energy was nothing to be sniffed at. The bread in the breadbox was moldy and stale, but behind the tea cups in the cupboard was a bottle of scotch. That too went into the bag. Jenny knew that she should look for other useful things, clothes or tools, but it felt too much like looting.
The living room was darker, but there were candles on the mantle and matches besides them. Those went in the bag as well. Just as she slipped up on tiptoes to read a framed embroidery, She heard two shots in rapid succession. Jenny skidded across the floor and hurtled up the stairs. She gagged on the smell, but pressed forward through the open door.
The woman and a little body, it's face completely gone, lay on the bed. Merle was pinned against the wall by a walker a shot gun discarded behind him. The walker, blood seeping through it's shirt emanating from the tip of the knife that Merle was using to keep it at arms length, growled and strained, intent on food. Without thinking, Jenny swung the bag, heavy with canned food, at the walker's head. It listed to the side and Jenny brought the bag down again. Something cracked, although whether it was a jar or the man's skull, she didn't know. Jenny grabbed the smooth curve of a jar through the canvas and brought it down, end first, on the man's, the walker's, temple. Again and again, until flecks of blood and little chunks of brain splattered her arms and face. She didn't notice these, nor did she notice the tears in her own eyes.
Merle straightened, bending down and retrieving the shot gun, only then, as the sound of glass hitting bone died down, did he hear the moans, and the rattling of a screen door.
He rushed past Jenny, kneeling on the floor, and peered out the window. the walkers were coming. He almost fell down the stairs, so quickly did he take them. The door was rattling, and with three walkers pressed against it, the old wood and mesh wouldn't hold for long. Merle looked out the bay windows, the ones that fronted towards the road, and there he saw it. There was a herd coming.
Jenny fell to her side. Her hands were sticky with blood and she could taste bile and the salt of her tears in her mouth. Merle was coming back up the stairs. She registered the sound although she didn't react. She had just beat a man's head in. Granted, the man had been dead, of a fashion, already, but she had just committed murder.
Merle was talking to her, dragging her up, shoving her shoulder. He had a pink comforter in his hand and she giggled with how odd it looked. Merle muttered something about crazy bitch, and then glass was breaking and she was flying through the air. She landed with an oof on the roof of what must be a porch, sprawled on the pink bedding. Merle clambered after her. He emptied both barrels of the shot gun into the approaching walkers, and although the bast stalled these ones, it only served to entice the herd on the road, who were coming ever closer.
Merle grabbed the edge of the comforter, and dragged her to the edge of the roof. He dropped over the side, then pulled her down too. He grabbed her face, framing her pale skin with his rough hands, and screamed, giving her a hard shake with each word.
"We have to run." He shoved her, "Run."
This seemed to get through the fog and she nodded, some of the color coming back to her face. The set off, dodging the walkers and pounding towards the road. Even with each footfall moans only grew louder. Merle could hear his breath rasping, Jenny was gasping like a fish. They rounded the bend and were out on the open road. The herd surged forward, and Merle knew what was going to happen. Stupid though the beasts were they were forming an inadvertent pincer that would cut off any chance of escape. He could shove Jenny, drop her right in their path and run as they ripped her to shreds. There were a few cars up ahead, maybe they could hide. Merle didn't know what to do. Fate chose for him, and Jenny vanished, she screamed as she fell, her foot, still in her work shoes had caught on something. Merle wanted to turn, to see what happened, but he kept running, his footfalls heavy as his heart.