4

Once again Daryl found himself scouring the town for Merle. Atlanta sounded like a short and hollow pipe dream. But it had to be better than this. Daryl refused to go look in their boxcar. He couldn't help feel like Merle tainted it by having sex in it. He couldn't help but wonder how many times it had happened. He could visit Merle's dealer. Merle would want drugs at a time like this. He could visit Merle's girlfriend, but he didn't really know which one he was with currently. So he did neither. Hours passed, and Daryl knew he was wandering in aimless circles like a drunken zombie. He gave up and returned to a house where both its two adult inhabitants were lying passed out on its floors.

He took care of his mom first. He cleaned her face a bit, and hoisted her arm over his shoulder. She staggered and he helped her from the kitchen table to the bedroom. He took off her muddy boots and tucked her into the blankets. He yanked his dad up with little to no care, then dropped him when he made a sound. He sat him in the easy chair, and kicked out the lever, slamming his legs out. Daryl glared as his dad reacted to none of it. He trudged to his room and angrily slammed the door shut.

The next morning Daryl awoke to sunlight streaming into his bedroom window. The house was quiet. Still wearing the clothes from the night before, Daryl slid out of bed and stepped lightly into the kitchen. The living room. He glanced out the front window and saw his dad's truck was gone. His heart leapt to his throat as he wondered if his mom left without them. No sooner than he thought this, he was interrupted by a small cough coming from the bedroom. Relieved to hear his mom's asthmatic smoker cough, he dashed into the bedroom. He swung open the door to see his mom lying in bed with one arm wrapped around a bottle, and the opposite hand holding a smoldering cigarette.

She looked up at him. "The house is quiet."

He sighed, and walked in. He sat carefully on the edge of the bed. "Yeah, I like it like this."

"I'm sorry," she said looking past him.

"I ain't." He stared back into her eyes, and was reminded that he had her gray eyes. Her mouth formed a shocked little o and he continued. "None of this shocks me anymore, it happens all the time." She opened her mouth to protest. "All the fucking time! I'll go to Atlanta, sure. But Merle won't. You know that." He stood back up and turned to face her. "We should go right now." He began to get excited. "Now, ma, we could go right now, it's perfect."

But Jolene shook her head sadly and said, "We ain't going nowhere without your brother."

Daryl took a step back. He knew at once he was stupid to believe in Atlanta, even for a minute. He nodded, accepting this grim defeat. He turned to walk out of the room. "Use an ashtray, ma," he said emotionlessly as he closed the door behind him.

—-

As Saturday passed with a lazy pace, Daryl found himself sitting in a tree high above the ground. His was back against the large tree trunk and he let his legs dangle. Every so often the crossbow hanging over his lap would hit his leg. He couldn't find Merle. When they were little, he always knew where Merle was and what he was doing, because he was usually with him. But as they got older, Merle made different choices. He took rockier paths, and did things Daryl couldn't bring himself to do.

At twenty-one Merle was reckless. He had tried almost every drug under the sun, and was addicted to a few. Drug possession charges stuck, as they began at an early age. The same went for STDs. A squirrel darted up a tree nearby and Daryl shot it in the head from above. He felt a dark satisfaction in hurting something defenseless, and tried to shake it from himself. His nose suddenly picked up a burning smell, and he looked up to see smoke filling the sky. He figured someone was burning their garbage. Soon he heard the sirens, there were a lot of sirens. He noticed that they were pretty close, too. He swung down from the tree and slung the crossbow over his shoulder, and headed back into town to investigate.

As he neared his street, he noticed that that was where the commotion was. Kids whizzed past him on bicycles, chattering about the excitement of seeing a fire. As they saw Daryl they grew silent. Then he saw that it was his own house up in flames.

Time stopped. He felt the ground meet his knees and it cut into the skin, but he didn't feel it. He heard a heart-shattering scream, and realized it was him. He heard Merle behind him, and felt a hand on his shoulder. "She's inside," Daryl gasped at his brother. "She's inside."

Merle dropped to the ground beside him, and threw his arms protectively around him. "I know, little brother."

The brothers stayed down for another minute, not daring to move because this might not be real.

—-

The next week was a blur. She had fallen asleep in bed with the wine and the cigarettes. The blankets caught fire as she slept, but the firemen said that she was probably asphyxiated by the smoke before she began to burn. Daryl didn't know how that was supposed to be any better. It rained all day the day that they buried her. All the Dixon household felt the slice of a matriarch lost. Dallas rented a one bedroom trailer for him and the boys, where Dallas got the bedroom and the boys had a futon and a sofa bed. When they were both open, the entire living space was filled. But they were rarely both open at the same time. Merle began staying with girls, and had developed a system of rotation among them. Sadie had expressed her condolences at the funeral, and Daryl told her to leave him alone. He didn't want to care about anyone anymore, because it seemed like it would always end badly anyway. The first night in the trailer, Dallas went out to the bar and left the boys alone. Daryl was horrified when he learned that Merle had given her the cigarettes. "You killed her," he had accused Merle, point blank.

A switch flipped and Merle's eyes had lit up like something Daryl had never seen before. Merle had launched himself across the room and wrapped his hands around Daryl's throat. "Don't you fucking dare blame me, you little shit," continuing to squeeze Daryl's throat. "I know what I did!" He threw Daryl down on the floor and stood over him as Daryl tried to get his breathing back under control. Merle began to pace the confines of the trailer. "Four packs. I just bought her four, she's usually careful…"

Daryl stood back up and straightened himself. "Well, she wasn't."

Merle looked evenly back at him and said, "Nah, nah, wasn't, was she?"

Daryl eventually told Merle about her plan to leave for Atlanta, and Merle confirmed his suspicions when even he admitted he wouldn't go. He shook his head and had said, "You should have gone."

The Georgia moon filled the small interior of the trailer, and Daryl curled up tighter on the couch. He was awoken out of a sound sleep a few hours later. He squinted his eyes to read the tiny red numbers on the clock radio across the room. 2:30 a.m.. The screen door being swung open way too fast had woken him up. He remained motionless on the couch, and kept an eye on the doorway. He soon saw the unsteady silhouette of his dad come into view. Dallas stumbled in, and slammed the door closed behind him.

"Shit hole!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, to no one in particular. It rang through the room and bounced off the walls. Daryl heard a smash and knew Dallas had punched something. He heard more smashed, some crashing, glass and porcelain breaking. Daryl prayed the lights wouldn't be turned on. In confirmation that there was no god, the lights came on blazing like a horrible fluorescent explosion. Daryl's eyes adjusted and came to focus on the man standing above him.

"Daryl, you're mom's gone," Dallas moaned. He fell to his knees and repeated himself. "I don't know how this happened," he said almost to himself. Daryl edged farther away from him, as the smell of alcohol was overpowering.

Still half asleep, Daryl attempted to get comfortable again on the couch. "Ask Merle, he bought her the goddamn smokes," he muttered. As soon as he said it he knew it was wrong. Slow but powerful hands yanked him off the couch and held him in the air by his shirt.

"What the fuck are you talkin' about, boy," Dallas growled into Daryl's face.

"He bought her the packs, he was tryin' to be nice-" Daryl began desperately. He felt himself flying through the air, and landed by the kitchen sink.

"You two little cunt's killed your mother!" Dallas shrieked. "Do you understand that?"

Daryl stood up and shot back, once again not thinking. "Only reason she was in the state she was in was 'cause of you!" Dallas began to lumber toward him, and Daryl wished Merle was there. "She wanted to leave!" Daryl yelled, just as Dallas took a swing.

Daryl took it, but then let his own fist fly. It made satisfying contact with his dad's face. "Sittin' and drinking and smoking made her happy, she was happy then," he screamed.

Dallas suddenly stopped. "Did you see her before it happened?"

Daryl took a second to catch his breath. He realized his dad's last memory of her was breaking her lip open. "Yeah, I saw her," Daryl answered slowly. "A few hours before."

Dallas stepped closer and closer to Daryl, until he was almost nose to nose. "So why didn't you stop her?"

Daryl realized he didn't have an answer.