Chapter Fourteen
Fall from Grace
Merle felt a cold shiver run down his spine as Woodbury came into sight. Martinez stood from his seat and motioned for the lights to be turned on, and before Merle knew it, a spotlight shone down on him, illuminating him. He squinted at the shocking and intrusive light, and raised his arms into the air. It wasn't long before Martinez was joined by two other figures: The Governor and Milton. Glasses, as Merle liked to call him, was talking to The Governor but the latter was staring intensely at Merle, and not listening to what the former was saying to him.
Merle offered a smirk which turned into a sneer, and The Governor nodded and sneered back. As Merle made his way up and into Woodbury, The Governor never took his eyes off him.
He was bloody, with fresh blood on his hands and arms that glistened in the artificial light. He was sweating, as if he had just run a marathon.
"How did it go?" The Governor asked, with his hands in his pockets. Milton stopped talking, being cut off. He narrowed his eyes towards Philip then to Merle who had noticed that Milton was no longer important for the time being.
"She was a tough'un," Merle began. "She could fight, I'll give her that."
"Could…" The Governor repeated. "She dead?"
"Dead as a dodo."
The Governor nodded thoughtfully. Merle waited and watched as his leader pondered for a moment. He flicked his eyes back to Milton who scrutinised The Governor with betrayed eyes.
"Time to celebrate!" The Governor spoke then and Merle nodded. "Wash her blood off then come to my apartment. I'll open the new bottle of whiskey."
Merle nodded and climbed down the ladder. As he walked towards his apartment, he felt the intense sensation of being watched, and knew that it was The Governor watching him. He shook the feeling away, like he had so many times before and quickly made his way to his apartment.
Woodbury, as safe as it was, had turned into a circus. The first time he was brought back, he felt at home, which for Merle was a huge thing. Merle never felt at home, but he had a role to fill and a game face to put on. He wasn't always a bad guy, and tonight had proved it. Woodbury had changed into a place he didn't recognise. The Governor had changed. And there were eyes and ears everywhere. He could no longer tell anyone anything, knowing that it would go back to The Governor. The boss.
His apartment was small but he liked it. He didn't like a lot of things but this… was his. The apartment consisted of an open plan living room and kitchen, with a bedroom off to the left and the bathroom, an en-suite, off the bedroom. There were brick walls exposed all through the apartment except the bathroom which had white tiles adorning the walls.
He found himself in the bathroom, leaning against the sink. He stared at himself in the mirror. Streaks of blood marked his face like scars, and his eyes, blue and cold, stared back at him. The biter blood helped win his case.
He had done a good thing. He had done a good thing, kept a good person alive. But still, he felt guilty at the thought of betraying Philip. He had to stand up to The Governor. If no one else did, then he had to.
The Governor was waiting for him. As soon as his knuckles made contact with the hard wooden door, the door opened to reveal The Governor, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Merle stepped into the apartment and took the whiskey that was offered. The Governor watched him for a moment, but Merle remained calm.
"So," Philip began, taking a seat at the dining table. He motioned for Merle to take a seat, to which the redneck complied.
"Good whiskey," Merle offered, licking the bitter and sweet liquor off his lips. It had been months since he had last tasted a good whiskey. In this new world, being drunk with the dead just yards away wasn't a particular favoured idea, but since being at Woodbury for six months, he was able to enjoy the feeling of alcohol streaming through his system and having no care in the world. It was a rare thing, for him and the residents of Woodbury to enjoy a good drink, but when it happened, he missed the old world.
He had people, families and children to protect, all the while trying to pretend that he was strong. He wasn't strong. When The Governor had come across him, he was near death. He was ill with a fever, and he thought that death was waiting for him. He was hours from death when The Governor found him by the side of the road, too weak to carry on, and hallucinating. Philip had taken him to Woodbury and he was able to get the help he needed, and six months down the line, he was fit and well. He had never felt better. He knew what it felt to be a dead man, where death was the next journey, but he fought back. There was still a fight within him. And he knew; only Merle could kill Merle. It had always been that way.
"A vintage," The Governor tipped his glass forward, admiring the burnt orange liquid in the glass. "You can never beat a good whiskey."
They sat in silence for a moment, relishing the taste of the sweet liquor on their tongues. Merle watched Philip out of the corner of his eye, taking in the eye-patch that adorned his face. They had both been through the wars, what with his missing hand. They were similar, in that sense. But Merle knew they were so different. The Governor had changed, and become harder. Merle had lost everything in the world, and when he stared death in the face, he realised that he had been given another chance to change and live as good a life as he could.
"I wanted to speak with you," The Governor said, turning to Merle. "Without Milton and Martinez."
"Right."
"About Anna."
Merle nodded, and The Governor sat forward to pour himself another drink. He tipped the bottle in Merle's direction and the redneck extended his arm out and held the glass as Philip poured the whiskey. The Governor placed the bottled on the table and sat back.
"Tell me what happened," he said, his eyes flicking from the liquid in his glass to Merle who stared at him. "I want to know."
Merle was taken aback. He knew The Governor didn't like her but to know 'how' she died and wanting details was unsettling. He grinned, ignoring the sickening feeling in his stomach.
"Saw the vehicle she'd left in by the side of the road. The engine was still warm so I guessed that she'd gone in the woods. Saw some signs, and it wasn't long before I found her. She was sat on the ground," Merle said. "Must'a broken a nail or somethin'."
The Governor smirked, and Merle continued. "She knocked the riddle out my hand, and I punched her. She fell to the ground. She fought back. A little fire cracker. Really wanted to live. I had to stab her. Over and over until she stopped movin'. Made sure she was dead dead."
"Nice…" The Governor chuckled.
"The bad thing is," Merle said. "Couldn't find my rifle."
The Governor nodded. "We'll get you another one. At least she's dead. One less problem to deal with."
Merle agreed. The Governor stood and walked over to the drinks cabinet. Merle narrowed his eyes at him, and swallowed the remaining bit of whiskey from his glass. He began to feel uncomfortable. The fact that The Governor was quiet throughout the whole exchange was unsettling.
"Here," Philip said. "For your hard work."
Merle looked up and saw The Governor walking towards him, in his hands was a bottle of whiskey. Merle was surprised, and opened his mouth to speak, but Philip cut him off.
"I want you to do something for me again," he spoke. "Just a little thing."
"Okay," said Merle.
The Governor hesitated for a moment, taking a seat and placing the unopened bottle of whiskey down on the table. He looked up at Merle and with a sinister expression in his eye, said. "I want you to show me her body."
