Tell me you're still you- Excellent, I'm glad you're enjoying! :D
GuiltyBystanders- Thank you so much! :)
bspooky3- No, no. No tears unless they're happy tears because the lil' family was reunited. :) Thanks for tuning in! I'm glad you're liking it so far.
HGRHfan35- Happy tears are the best kind of tears, seeing as the other kinds of tears are probably the opposite of good. :P I'm trying to figure out something for spring. I have a thing for writing season-themed pieces. Unfortunately, this one is not spring either. Have a good weekend, too, lady! :D
spygrrl99- I thought it would be a nice, comical addition to the end there. Carol can be a sassy cat sometimes, so I figured she'd say funny things sometimes. I could imagine it would be quite difficult being born into a post-apocalyptic world and only being able to know bits and pieces of how the world used to be, almost like the stories of before are like fairy tales. It's sad to think about.
Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing, as always. Look, here's another update! GASP. I was snowed in today, and decided to finish this one up. I hope you all enjoy it. I, myself, feel guilty for writing it after seeing a post on tumblr that shows a quote of Michael Rooker saying "Merle likes kitties, little puppies, little kids..." and other such innocent things. Mind you, he is drunk. That's all I will say. I hope you all continue to enjoy!
-Gabby
The summer in Georgia was always hot and sticky, almost unbearable. Even when the bright sun would fall into the horizon and allow the blanket of darkness to take over the sky, the air was still thick with the heat and humidity of the day. Rarely would anyone complain, believing that it was a miracle that they were all still alive let alone feeling the sensation of being warm, but they all thought it. Anyone who said otherwise was either lying to themselves or just a liar altogether. The adults in the group always talked about the time when there were machines that made cold air in the summer. He always knew they must have been joking with him, though, because such a thing could only exist in stories, made-up stories no less.
Summer also brought back memories of peaches and swimming: the cool delights one could partake in to escape the intense heat. The best days in summer, according to the littlest Dixon, were those that were spent indoors while the sky poured down from above. At least for a day or so, the rain usually made the high temperatures slightly more bearable. Asskicker usually hated those days and was more than confused when he explained that he loved them. As the two grew, they were the best of friends, sharing in the enjoyment of the occasional cool drink they might receive or giggling at a joke around the fire. Even when they entered their teenage years, they maintained their friendship regardless of her beginning to act a little strange around him.
When the old farmer passed away in June one year, it rained a lot. His death was taken hard by both of his girls, so naturally, members of the group gravitated toward them to give any sort of comfort they could. Fortunately, each of the girls had one person in particular to be there for them when no one else could. That summer, Asskicker's brother hung around the younger of the farmer's daughters an awful lot, leaving the young Grimes girl to entertain herself, which was a nearly impossible task that Little Dixon had thrust upon him. She was about fifteen, making him near the age of thirteen, and for a reason unknown to him, her daddy started to give him looks he rarely received: very serious, verging on angry looks.
It was not until one night that he realized why the sheriff had been passing him dirty looks. They had been sitting out on the roof of the building the Grimes family had taken residence in on one of the rare evening when the rain had ceased. Their time up there was more than innocent as he showed her what stars his daddy had taught him about, like Darco, Hercules, and the dippers. He liked that it kept her quiet. Over the years, he took note that it was easier to just let her talk to her heart's content, but it still annoyed him to no end. Though he was enjoying the silence, it made him feel a tad uneasy. Little Asskicker never stopped talking. When she leaned over and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, his uneasiness felt justified. "The hell was that for?" he had snapped at her, scooting away from her as quickly as he was able. His face grew hot, and blood pounded in his ears. With a quirk of her eyebrow, she simply gave him a small smirk before she climbed through the window that led them outside in the first place.
Knowing full well his daddy was most definitely not the one to talk to about girl-related issues, he went in search of his Uncle Merle after bidding Asskicker, her brother, and the blonde farmer's daughter goodnight. He figured that if one of the Dixon brothers was a complete moron in the department of women, there might be a good chance the other was a pro. "Psst, Glenn," he called up to the man that was currently on the wall. He had grown to enjoy the Korean man's entertaining stories of delivering pizzas before the dead took over the earth. Once he was on watch, however, the man turned into a stone. No smiles or jokes were allowed when it came to protecting his people. "D'you know if Uncle Merle is on watch?" When the man shook his head then returned to his watch, the youngest Dixon frowned.
Something he never wanted to do was enter his uncle's abode. Approaching his Uncle Merle anywhere else was no problem at all, but there was an air of caution he felt the need to take when it came to entering his uncle's place of dwelling. Most nights, no one bothered the brute once he was tucked away for the evening except for the man's brother. This made the littlest Dixon even more uneasy than the kiss Asskicker gave him, but he thought that advice was something undeniably in need of after what happened. His daddy's voice was in the back of his head, telling him: "Don't you go in there, kid. Yer' uncle ain't one to trifle with after he calls it a night. Just stay outta there."
The spot his uncle chose, the shabbiest of all the buildings he noted, was close to the wall and had a light shining through the window at the top of the door. It meant one of two things: his uncle was up and was not to be disturbed or his uncle fell asleep with the light on and was not to be disturbed. Since he seemed to have found himself to be gaining proclivity for trouble that evening, he took a deep breath in and knocked on the door. His uncle never did wrong by him. He would even go so far as to say his uncle was one of the funniest people he had me, so he knew the adults around him must have been exaggerating to make sure he never bothered the man.
After minutes had passed and he was just about to give up on his feat, the door swung open, a tall, dark shadow looming over his lanky body. "What the hell you doin' here, boy?" The man's face was covered in shadows, but still looked rugged and tired in the dim light of the many candles burning inside. Much like the boy's daddy, he wore a dark-colored, which was assumed to be navy blue at one point, shirt that had buttons and, unlike the boy's father, the sleeves rolled up. The wife beater top he wore was permanently stained yellow from the sweaty man. Sweaty was once the way the boy described his uncle because it was rare that he saw him not sweating in some way, shape, or form. "Ya' just gonna stand there all quiet, or are ya' gonn' give me an answer?"
His uncle's eyes were much like those of his father, icy, grey-blue, though his daddy's were significantly kinder than his uncle's in that moment. The pair that stared at him, inches away from his own as the older man leaned close to the boy, were glazed over, glaring at him with a distaste that gave him a sick feeling in his gut. A bitter smell wafted into his nostrils from the heavy breaths of the large man that made him gag. This was not the uncle he was used to seeing. This man had no cocky grins, snide remarks, snarky comebacks. No, this man was someone else completely. "Whatcha' got t'say, chicken legs? Hm, ya' come here for a good ol' talk with ya' Uncle Mere, didja'?" His uncle continued to slur words out as his good hand reached out to grab the collar of his nephew's shirt. Pulling him closer, their noses were almost touching.
The stale, sour stench of the older Dixon brother's breath blew all over his face while the vice grip the man had on his collar grew tighter. With little else to do, the boy flinched away. "What's th' matter, boy? Scared of Merle here? Naw, ya' ain't got nothin' to be 'fraid of?" Yellowing teeth flashed a menacing grin. "Damnit, look at me!" Frightened beyond belief, his eyes raised away from the yellowing shirt he had chosen to focus on. The look in his uncle's eyes brought only more fear into his heart, seeing only narrowed slits in the darkness. "Ya' took him away from me. You and tha' woman turned 'im soft on me. Now, I ain't got nowhere t'go. Trapped 'ere like a mouse in a trap." With a quick yank, their faces were touching, and there was no hiding the shaking his terror was causing him.
"But y'know I ain't no mouse, boy." In an instant, he was on the ground with a searing pain emanating from his cheek. "I ain't no mouse! Tha's mah brother!" His back throbbed as a hard object collided with it, a shriek of pain escaping his lungs at a volume and an octave that would attract any walker that was nearby. The item continued to make contact with his back over and over again. Stars appeared on the backs of his eyelids through the tears he was attempting to hold back. The taste of metal and salt dripped into his mouth as a stream of blood from his nose and stray tears fell down his face. "He's mine!"
A click from a gun sounded from somewhere in the distance, the ringing in his ears not allowing him to be able to pinpoint an exact location. "So help me god, Merle," a raspy voice said in amidst sound of doors opening and gasps. "I'll kill you, brother." His daddy. That man was always there when he needed him. His heart began pounding in his chest, wanting to get up to see his father but worrying his uncle would start up with the beating again. "I don't care none if ya' got into the booze. That's my kid, and you laid your hand on him. It ain't—" A gunshot rang through the air, followed by a bloodcurdling scream from his uncle. Attempting to turn his head to see what was going on behind him, a whimper came out instead. Everything hurt, many regrets flying through his head. "Christ." Quick footsteps, two sets of them, came towards his battered body. "Cyrus?"
There was a soft touch on his back then on his cheek, turning his head carefully to face away from his uncle, who was writhing in pain just inside the door of his home. "Baby, can you hear me?" He opened his teary eyes to see his mama and daddy staring down at him with concern painted all over their faces. Never had he ever been so glad to see the pair looking so worried. Just beyond them, he saw Asskicker standing beside her brother with her hands over her mouth and wet streaks falling down her cheeks. "You're going to be just fine, sweetheart. Don't you worry, okay?"
An arm wrapped itself around his back, loosening its grip when he cringed and squeezed his eyes shut again, and the other slid under his knees. "Think you can check him out?" the gruff voice of his daddy asked. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the blurry image of his father, carrying him to their home down the stone-covered road from his uncle's. "Rick and I have some shit to discuss about what happened here." He heard the man sigh as he stepped through the doorway that was opened by his mama. "Y'shouldn't have shot him."
"No, I did." With those words, he felt himself drift off into a painfully light sleep before his father placed him lightly onto a bed, fearing his uncle would be back. Each gentle touch of his mother woke him, even if only slightly. With the farmer gone, his mama had become the group's new doctor. Though she did not have the expertise of the old man, the helpful nature she had made her better suited for the job than anyone else. "This shouldn't have happened," he heard her whisper at some point during the night.