For a second or two, all I could hear was the deafenin' sound of my heart poundin' in my ears as I stared at the bloody severed hand that used to be attached to Merle's body.
I could feel the nauseous stomach acid threatenin' to bubble up my throat, and a few warm tears slidin' down my grimey cheeks as my eyes lingered on the pool of dark red blood, then flickered over to the rusty saw just a few inches away... And a disturbed shudder racked my spine. My heart sank at the thought of how desperate he must'a been, or just how terrified he had to be in order to saw his own hand off...
Probably took him damn near all night to get through the bone, judgin' at how dull that rusty blade was...
It had almost slipped my mind that there were four other people standin' around me, witnessin' this horror... but when Daryl suddenly lunged forward with his crossbow loaded and aimed straight at T-Dog's head, knockin' me outta the way and straight into Glenn in the process, I was quickly yanked back into reality.
Luckily, Glenn had lightenin' quick reflexes and caught me as I stumbled. Otherwise, I woulda crashed straight to the ground.
I was just about to tear after Daryl and really start bitchin' when all of a sudden, without missin' a beat, Rick whipped his pistol from its holster, clicked the safety off and firmly pressed the barrel straight to Daryl's temple. It was like a chain reaction, and it happened so fast... But once my eyes laid on the big picture, my stomach lurched up into my throat, feelin' like it took my heart and lungs right along with it.
"I will not hesitate," Rick growled huskily, his eyes intense and glued to Daryl, "I don't care if every walker for miles hears it."
"Rick...!" I finally gasped when my voice found its way back to my throat, my eyes wide and terrified.
The former sheriff quickly flicked his blue eyed gaze in my direction, and there was just somethin' about 'em... Somethin' about the look he was givin' me that told me he wasn't gonna pull that trigger, and for some reason I trusted him. Still, I hated the sight of a gun to Daryl's head, even if we weren't exactly on speakin' terms.
While I locked my eyes onto Daryl's face, swallowin' hard and studyin' his distraught expression, I hung back next to Glenn.
The seconds seemed to drag on for decades as the three men stood there, frozen in their positions. I could see the sweat drippin' from T-Dog's forehead as he stared wide-eyed at the tip of the arrow just inches from his face, and my hand flung up to my mouth, where my teeth began anxiously attackin' my thumb nail. In my mind, I was beggin' Daryl, pleadin' with him to just swallow his pride and put down his crossbow.
This wasn't solvin' anything. Merle was still gone, and two more lives lost weren't gonna bring him back.
Finally, after a few more agonizin' seconds of waitin', I could see a slightly defeated look wash over Daryl's face. He let out a soft sigh as his shoulders sagged a little, and his crossbow dropped down to his side. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders as I watched Rick lower his gun in return, but when Daryl glanced around the group, his eyes driftin' to me last and seemin' to linger... That crushin' feelin' started stranglin' my heart again.
I just couldn't look at him... Those pale blue eyes, his scruffy chin, the little mole above his lip on the right side of his face... His lean, toned muscles... Everything about him got to me, and knowin' these were most likely my last moments with the man who used to be my best friend, the man I was positive that I loved, was tearin' me apart one tiny shred at a time.
When my eyes dropped down away from his, Daryl turned to T-Dog and muttered, "... Ya got a do-rag, or somethin'?"
I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his choice of words, and squinted in the bright, unforgivin' sun as I glanced back upward. T-Dog reached into his pocket and dug out what looked to be a blue bandana, then extended his hand out toward Daryl, who snatched the fabric and gave it a flick.
His face twisted up into a disgusted scowl as he hesitantly knelt down next to Merle's hand, layin' the bandana flat on the rooftop next to it. Daryl waited a second, seemin' like he was tryin' to decide exactly how to pick it up.
When he finally reached out and grabbed the pale, almost blue lookin' hand by the pinky, liftin' it off the ground and lettin' it dangle for a second as he examined it, I made a face as my stomach churned.
Memories of Merle flooded my brain, with his hand still attached of course... Just lookin' at the dead, shriveled skin and bloody, exposed stump of bone was makin' me sick. No one else was sayin' a word, and as I glanced around, I could see everyone's expressions matched my own... Horrified, disgusted, and damn near close to throwin' up all over the place.
"I guess the blade was too dull for the handcuff..." Daryl muttered as he squinted at Merle's hand, then gently laid it in the middle of the bandana, "Ain't that a bitch..."
While he gingerly folded the corners of the blue fabric over the hand, Rick, T-Dog, Glenn and I all passed around a skeptical glance, wonderin' just what he was gonna do with that little bundle of horror. After a few seconds, Daryl stood to his feet with the bundle grasped in his hands, then turned to me and motioned for my backpack.
My first instinct was to take a step back, my head of messy blonde hair shakin' quickly. My eyes were glued to that horrible blue bandana, and there was no way I was gonna touch it.
"Oh, hell no." I choked out between gags, coverin' my mouth with a tremblin' hand.
"For God's sake..." Daryl muttered while rollin' his eyes and glarin' at me in annoyance, then turned to Glenn, who looked just as pale and queasy as I felt. "Glenn, c'mere."
The young Asian man's face fell as he frowned and reluctantly trudged the few steps over to Daryl, who gripped the strap of his backpack and sort of yanked him a little closer. I watched Glenn's eyes droop as he listened to Daryl unzip the large pocket on his backpack. He then stuffed the wrapped up hand inside, zipped the pocket back up, and gave Glenn's shoulder a firm pat.
I flashed Glenn an apologetic look, and he flatly shrugged in my direction before I warily wandered over to the pool of Merle's blood stainin' the rooftop. I couldn't help but notice there wasn't nearly as much as there shoulda been, for someone sawin' off their own hand, 'n all.
"He musta used somethin' as a tourniquet... Maybe his belt." I observed as I crouched down next to the rusty colored stain, tuckin' a loose strand of hair behind my ear and shakin' my head, "Wow... Looks like all those years of shootin' up actually taught Merle somethin' that saved his life."
"Let's not speak too soon. He could have passed out anywhere around here... We gotta keep lookin'." Rick piped up grimly as I rose back to my feet, steppin' outta the way as Daryl brushed by me, followin' a trail of blood droplets across the rooftop.
Rick, Glenn and I followed close behind him as T-Dog stepped over the thick metal pipe that Merle had been chained to, gatherin' up a duffle bag full of tools that I assumed belonged to Dale, judgin' from a few conversations I'd overheard back at camp. The four of us paused and waited a second for T-Dog to catch up, then made our way across the rooftop where the blood trail led us to a jarred open door with a big yellow caution symbol painted on the front.
Judgin' by the bloody handprints smeared up and down the sides of the door, I was 100% sure we were gettin' warmer... Merle had to be around here somewhere.
Hopefully alive.
Daryl continued to lead the way, nudgin' the door open with his crossbow and pointin' the loaded arrow around the corner before wavin' the rest of us inside. Stayin' close behind Rick and pullin' my pistol out from my waistband, glancin' over my shoulder to make sure Glenn and T-Dog weren't far off, I passed under the door frame into a dark, muggy room.
It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust from the bright sunlignt, but once they did I could see we were in a maintenance room of some kind. Breaker boxes with different labels lined the walls, and pipes of all shapes and sizes jutted out from the walls and ceilin'. The room was pretty small and it was clear Merle wasn't hidin' anywhere in there, so our small search group headed toward the only other exit; a narrow stairwell leadin' to the floors below.
"Merle?" Daryl barked out as we eased down the stairwell. "You in here...?!"
We all paused and stayed quiet, waitin' for an answer, but all we heard in return was silence... Eerie, flat silence. Daryl glanced at us over his shoulder and nodded for us to move forward, offensively holdin' up his crossbow and leadin' our group down to the foot of the stairwell, where we paused again.
"Okay," Daryl muttered as we all hovered near an open doorway, watchin' as that redneck I grew up with leaned around to check the left side, then the right. "Let's go."
Then we were off again, shufflin' down a dimly lit hallway in a single file line, clingin' to our weapons and bracin' ourselves for what we all knew could be around the next corner. At the end of the long hallway, we came to a split. One doorway seemed to lead into a series of offices, and the other a room full of cubicles and copy machines.
"Which way do we go...?" I wondered aloud in a whisper, glancin' from face to face.
"We split up." Daryl grumbled back, marchin' off into the cubicles without waitin' to see what the rest of us thought about his plan.
"Daryl-!" Rick hissed after him, but I cut him off.
"I'll follow him," I said over my shoulder as I brushed passed the sheriff, "Ya'll go the other way. We'll meet up on the other side."
"Watch your backs...!" I heard Glenn call out in a hushed tone, and I raised my hand in a wave, signalin' I understood.
The cubicles were an absolute disaster. It was hard to take even three steps without havin' to duck under a tangled mass of electrical wires and light fixtures ripped down from the ceilin', or dodge a mountain of overturned office chairs. The majority of the computers left restin' on the desks were covered in blood and dust, or were tipped over on their sides with the screens smashed out. Keyboards were in pieces and flung across the cubicles, lifeless phones were knocked off hooks and danglin' off the sides of desks by their cords, and the stray printer paper was like a sea of white that covered almost every square inch of the space around us.
"Y'know," I said quietly once I caught up to Daryl, who was stompin' through that maze of debris like an angry bull, "Splittin' up never did anyone any good in the movies."
He spared me a glance over his shoulder, his eyes stoney and his lips in a taught line before replyin', "Yea, well this ain't no horror flick, in case ya haven't noticed."
"Coulda fooled me..." I mumbled back, my voice barely above a whisper.
I glared at the back of Daryl's scruffy, sandy colored head as he turned his gaze forward again, followin' behind him and mimicin' his actions as he flattened himself against the wall and scooted by a dislodged wall of the last cubicle, which was tilted over to the right. Why did I even bother tryin' to talk to him...?
After a little more maneuverin' through the cubicles, Daryl and I approached another open doorway. Suddenly, he stopped short, blockin' my path.
"Hey, what's-" I whispered as I leaned to the left and craned my neck, but my breath quickly caught in my throat as I realized what was blockin' our way out.
A droolin' geek stood right in the middle of the doorframe, its head hung low and its shoulders sagged. It was what used to be a man, tall and lanky, dressed in a grungy suit and tie stained with blood, dirt and bile. From where I was standin', I couldn't see its face, but I already knew what it looked like... Rotten, dead, and decomposin', just like the rest of 'em.
I swallowed hard as I watched the geek just sway back and forth, groanin' and gurglin', not seemin' to notice us standin' just a few feet away. My fingers instinctively tightened around the handle of my pistol as my heart rate slowly rose, poundin' in my eardrums.
I suddenly was very aware of the scar on my side, etched into my skin from the teeth of one of those slimy scumbags... My mind automatically started wanderin' away from it, though. Even after almost a month, I hadn't turned or even come down with the slightest hint of a fever, and honestly it still freaked me out...
"Daryl..." I muttered warily as my best friend suddenly started creepin' forward, his footsteps silent and his crossbow raised in front of him.
He ignored my voice and kept on stalkin' toward the livin' corpse. When he got close enough, he took aim at the beast's skull, and called out to it in a tauntin' way, "Hey, ugly!"
The geek instantly perked up at the sound of Daryl's husky voice, but before it could utter even the smallest shriek, there was an arrow jammed between its eyes. The body slumped to the floor, and Daryl quickly walked over to retrieve his arrow while I made my way toward him, relief washin' over me.
"You guys all right?" T-Dog's voice broke the air as he suddenly appeared in the doorway, Rick and Glenn close behind him. I flinched at the abruptness of their appearance, but quickly calmed my racin' heart.
"Yea, we're fine," I sighed in response with a slight glare in T-Dog's direction for scarin' the daylights outta me, but he didn't seem to notice, "Just had this lovely gentleman to deal with..."
Daryl gave the dead guy's skull a nudge before bitterly mutterin' down at it, "Bastard."
Then, he and Rick took the lead, leavin' Glenn, T-Dog and I to follow along behind. The five of us trudged on in silence, keepin' a sharp eye out for anymore geeks hidden in the shadows or around corners. After a minute or so of navigatin' through the stuffy halls, we emerged into a reception area, which was in total disarray.
The magazine rack had been smashed to pieces, the old yellowin' magazines torn to shreds and litterin' the room, chairs over turned and stained with bloody handprints, drawers ripped out of the front desk... And to top it all off, two dead walkers sprawled out in the middle of the floor, each with their skulls brutally bashed in.. A clear sign that Merle had been through there.
The stench was somethin' awful, but after months of dealin' with dead, decomposin' bodies almost everywhere ya looked, the smell was the easiest part to get past... At least for me.
As long as they weren't tryin' to take a bite outta me, I was happy as a clam.
"Had enough in 'im to take out these two sum' bitches." Daryl grumbled as he strolled out into the room, takin' a look at the damage his brother had done to each corpse.
"One handed..." My voice automatically blurted out, makin' Daryl nod and raise his eyebrows.
He then paused and set his crossbow on the carpet with a 'thunk', pinnin' it up-right between his knees and gruntin' as he reloaded another arrow. "Toughest asshole I ever met, my brother... Feed 'im a hammer, he'll crap out nails."
At this point, Rick stepped forward, defensively raisin' his gun and startin' to lead us out into another hallway.
"Any man can pass out from blood loss," I heard him mutter to Daryl as he passed, "No matter how tough he is."
Glenn, T-Dog and I flashed one more wary glance down at the dead walkers, then at each other before hurryin' along behind Daryl and Rick. I was prayin' to God we found Merle soon so we could all get the hell outta this damn city, and hopefully in one piece.
"Merle?!"
Daryl's shoutin' voice echoed out into the deserted halls of that huge buildin' as our group cautiously rounded yet another corner. Rick promptly nudged the redneck's shoulder, givin' him a stern glare as they made eye contact.
"We're not alone here, remember...?!" Rick hissed at Daryl, who just rolled his eyes and ignored the comment.
Somehow we'd wound up in some sorta kitchen, which didn't look too disturbed... Mostly all the dry storage items had long since been looted, though. Pots and pans were still hung up above the gas powered stove, which was still very lively... We all seemed to notice the flames flickerin' from the burners at the same time.
Half dried blood was smudged on the floor and drippin' down the sides of the iron stove, and next to one of the burners I could see Merle's belt, and a flat metal iron, caked with some gunky, crusty burnt residue... I swallowed hard, puttin' the pieces of this scene together, feelin' like I was in the middle of a CSI episode.
"What's that black stuff...?" Glenn asked in a curious whisper as Rick slowly lifted the iron from the stove. It was like he'd been followin' my exact thought wavelengths.
A shudder racked my spine as Rick' soft reply slipped off his lips, "Skin... He cauterized the stump."
"Jesus, Merle..." I gravely murmured as I stared at the iron in Rick's hands. My eyes then shifted to Glenn's, and it was obvious that we were sharin' the same disturbed, horrified feelin'.
"Told ya he was tough." Daryl spoke up matter-of-factly from across the room, inspectin' every square inch for anything that would lead him to his older brother, "Nobody can kill Merle but Merle."
It was honestly kinda true... All our lives we watched Merle put himself through shit that would easily kill any other livin' soul in a heartbeat, and still come out with barely a scratch... And I mean shit like pumpin' his body full'a heroine and tequila, and still wakin' up early the next mornin' to go huntin' with Daryl. In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have been allowed to handle a gun after bingin' on hard drugs and alcohol the night before, but I guess it didn't matter much now.
Rick took a second to examine the blood in the room before sighin' and turnin' to Daryl, runnin' a hand through his dark curly hair, "Don't have too much faith in that... He's lost a lot of blood."
Daryl looked like he was about to argue back, when somethin' across the room in the corner suddenly caught his eye. He sneered at Rick, then stomped passed him toward whatever had sparked his interest.
"Oh, yea?" He taunted, almost like a smart-ass child would, "Didn't stop him from bustin' outta this death trap."
"What?" I gasped as my ears perked up at Daryl's words, and I started shufflin' my way passed a cluster of baker's racks to see what exactly he was talkin' about. "What do you mean he busted... -"
My voice trailed off once I got a clear view of what Daryl, Rick and T-Dog were starin' so intently at. It was a busted out window, the hole in the glass just big enough for a Merle-sized body to squeeze through. Glenn quickly followed my lead around the baker's racks, and with slow, cautious steps we all made our way toward the window.
Cranin' our necks and leanin' forward a little, we could clearly see the third floor fire escape, which Merle had used to scale to the ground and make his official exit back into the geek filled streets of Atlanta... One handed.
"He left the building?!" Glenn gasped in disbelief, "Why the hell would he do that?!"
"'Cause he thinks he's invincible." I answered in frustration as I crossed my thin arms over my chest, "How the hell are we gonna find this asshole now? He could be anywhere."
"He did what be had to." Daryl mumbled as he leaned against the wall, shakin' his head, "He's out there alone, survivin'. That's all he knows."
"You call that survivin'?" T-Dog demanded from my right, and when I glanced at him his facial expression just screamed that he didn't believe Merle was alive for a second, "Just wanderin' the streets, maybe passin' out? What are his odds out there?"
The very second T-Dog finished his sentence, Daryl's intense blue eyes were glued to him. I was honestly surprised T-Dog didn't burst into flames from all the searin' hatred in his gaze.
"What are his odds?" Daryl repeated, his words drippin' with venom and his voice suddenly risin' to a snappin' shout, "I'd say no better than bein' left handcuffed to a a god damn roof!"
T-Dog immediately dropped his eyes to the ground, and Glenn did the same to avoid Daryl's eyes. But I wasn't scared of 'em, and when he peered at me, givin' me a look that let me know he was throwin' me in the category of people who's fault all this bullshit was... Well, I just flipped him the bird. Didn't seem to make him too happy, but he took those hateful blue eyes off me, none the less. Instead, he turned to Rick, takin' a step forward and puffin' his chest out... A classic Dixon boy move, totally alpha-male. "An' you couldn't kill 'im... Too worried about some dumb, dead bastard."
Daryl's voice was slitherin' from his throat in a low, threatenin' hiss, and at this point he was almost touchin' noses with Rick. The sheriff kept his cool, but I could see in his eyes that Daryl was pushin' his buttons. When I noticed his jaw clench and his teeth start to grind, I decided to step in.
"Daryl, this ain't helpin-" I tried to mediate, but the redneck quickly cut me off, turnin' his head over his shoulder to bark at me.
"Shut your damn mouth, Raelyn," He snarled, and I recoiled a bit, "You don't have much room to talk about what's helpin' this situation and what ain't... Last time I checked, you didn't do much'a anything to make sure Merle got outta here alive."
His words definitely stung, but Rick quickly came to my defense.
"What happened to Merle had nothin' to do with Rae, we told ya that." He growled at Daryl, "And it wasn't just one dumb, dead bastard, it was about a thousand of 'em. That change things a bit?"
He narrowed his eyes at Daryl, who just narrowed his right back and never faltered for a second.
"Well, take a tally," He finally sneered after the starin' match went on for a few seconds, "Go on, do what ya want. I'm goin' to get 'im."
With that bein' said, Daryl made a move toward the window as if he was gonna duck outside to the fire escape and follow Merle's path, but he didn't make it two steps before Rick's hand was firmly planted on his chest.
"Daryl, WAIT!" The police officer growled loudly as he shoved Daryl back, which only fired him up about 100 times more.
"Man, git yer hands off me!" He snapped in his thick southern drawl as he knocked Rick's hand away from his chest, his face twistin' up in anger as he threateningly lunged forward, "You can't stop me!"
"Look, I don't blame you!" Rick said to Daryl in a firm but even tone, tryin' to guide the flustered redneck's tone downward, "Merle's family, I get that. I went through hell to find mine..." His voice was soft now, and suddenly his eyes flicked over to me, "And Rae was right there with me, goin' through the same hell for you."
Suddenly, all eyes were on me, including Daryl's, and I felt a little uncomfortable. I let my eyes linger for a second on those light blue ones that I'd grown so fond of over the years, but after a few seconds it was just too painful... I turned away, realizin' Rick didn't know about the conversation Daryl and I had in his tent back at camp. He didn't know the two of us had decided to pretend the other never existed, and he didn't know I was plannin' on disappearin' after this whole mess was taken care of.
And that was how it was gonna stay.
"Merle couldn't have gotten far with that injury." Rick spoke up after the short silence, gainin' everyone's attention once again, "We can all work together, check a couple blocks around... But we can only do that if we each keep a level head."
My eyes were glued to Daryl as he swallowed hard and stiffly nodded his head, seemin' to think Rick's idea over for a second, "... We could do that."
Rick glanced around at all of us, just to make sure we were on board. I wasted no time in eagerly noddin' my head, and Glenn did the same... Although not quite as eager.
Now all our eyes were set on T-Dog, who looked a little more than skeptical about roamin' the city.
"Only if we get those guns first." He finally blurted out, givin' into the pressure of our stares, "I ain't strollin' the streets of Atlanta with just my good intentions, okay?"
We all nodded in agreement.
"I think we can all work with that." I said, leanin' up against an old broken down fridge, "We just need a game plan."
The room fell silent again as all of our brains began buzzin' for a solution, with seemingly no ideas from any one of us... Until Glenn hesitantly spoke up from next to Daryl.
"... I have one."
To be continued...