Chapter Fifteen: Goodbye
A screeching shriek pierces Merle's dreams as he and Mitch are startled awake. He quickly jumps out of bed, pulling on his pants, and looks around the room for something to defend himself with. Mitch is slower to rise but a second blood-curdling sound forces her into high gear as she pulls on her oversized t-shirt.
Having found nothing to use as a weapon, the two cautiously open the bedroom door. More noises can be heard coming from Ed and Owen's bedroom. "Oh god," Mitch cries as she flings open the door and rushes into the room with such purpose and determination.
Merle follows quickly behind, ready to fight off the source behind those awful cries. Mitch's eyes finally adjust to the darkened room and she comes to a dead halt. Merle almost pummels into her frozen body. "Ya stupid bitch…" he starts to say but the words turn to glue in his mouth as his eyes fall upon the carnage occurring within the room.
Merle reacts immediately, gently pushing the traumatized Mitch aside, out of harm's way. He grabs one of the lamps standing beside the door and cautiously steps further into the room. His stomach turns at the copious amount of blood saturating the floor and spraying the walls, but he does not vomit. He always prided himself on having a stomach of steel. A couple feet away, Owen lay flat on the ground beside the bed. A chunk of his lower neck is missing and blood is spewing from the wound. Merle can't help but feel sorry for the guy, no one, not even a faggot douchebag with a running mouth, deserved to go out this way. Despite the profuse amount of blood spraying from his injury, Owen continues to try and fight off his assailant. Sadly, his weakened hands are doing nothing to deter the crouching attacker who hovers over his body, clawing ferociously into the dying man's abdomen.
Merle had never seen Ed before, but from the light brown hair and face eerily resembling Mitch's, he immediately knows the reanimated corpse is him. Merle wonders what the hell he should next, Mitch's cries of horror make it harder for his to focus. However, as the emaciated already-dead body looks up from its meal and the two lock eyes, he knows. He walks up to the snarling creature which had begun crawling toward him and Mitch, drawn by the scent of fresher meat. In spite of having only the hand, the brute strength behind his swing of the lamp knocks back the assailant, sending its rotting corpse sailing through the air before slamming into the back wall. Merle stalks toward the thing formally known as Ed, which is now angrily snarling as it attempts to untangle its crumpled body, in order to finish the job. From the corner of his eye, he notices Mitch rush toward Owen and secretly hopes she gets to him in time to say goodbye.
Merle swings several times, each blow landing precisely on the corpse's head between its sunken, milky eyes. Eventually the ruthless attack renders the creature motionless, dead for good. With the threat eliminated, Merle turns his attention toward the massacred body of Owen. Despite his fatal injuries, defining all odds, he continues to breath, albeit irregularly and shallow. His hands still claw weakly at the air.
Mitch cradles Owen's body, pressing her hands against his neck wound, "Oh Owen I'm so sorry... I don't understand... Uncle Ed wasn't bite... Owen... I... I... Love you... You and Uncle Ed… You weren't just my uncles… you were my dads… I… Goodbye Owen… It's ok to let go now..."
Owen stops clawing aimlessly at the air, his panic subsides at the sound of Mitch's voice. He looks up at his niece and gurgles, "I... Love... Mich... Go..." A bloody coughing fit interrupts his final words. With that he takes his final breath and his body falls limp in Mitch's arms.
Merle crouches down beside Mitch and puts his hand on her shoulder, "We need to..."
"I can't..." Mitch protests, clinging to her deceased uncle, "I can't leave..."
"You hear that?" Merle questions. They both fall silent and the moaning and groaning of the undead can be heard. It's volume steadily increasing with each passing moment. Merle urgently continues, "The screaming musta drawn them here. We need ta go now before this place is surrounded... And before Owen turns..."
Her moistened eyes grow large as she realizes the terrible predicament they have now found themselves in. However, she remains seated next to the lifeless Owen, cradling his bloodied torso and stroking his hair with her fingers. She swallows, holding back the tears on the verge of falling from her beautiful eyes, "We can't let Owen become one of those things... I won't leave until we take care of him..."
Merle nods and quietly leaves the room. He returns seconds later with a knife in hand, one he found in the kitchen. He kneels beside the corpse and steadies the blade above Owen's dead eye.
Mitch reaches out and grabs the blade from Merle's hand, "No. I'll do it. Just give me some time alone... There are some backpacks in the hallway closet. You might as well start loading up supplies..."
Merle squeezes her shoulder then leaves her alone to finish the gruesome task ahead. He finds the bags and quickly fills them with an assortment of non-perishable food items and water bottles. He places the bags beside the front door then heads back into the room designated temporarily as his. He throws on the clothing he had been wearing when he first stumbled upon this apartment complex a week ago. The fabric smells of laundry detergent and he momentarily enjoys the feeling of the soft, freshly-washed material against his skin. He had been wearing the same outfit for weeks before Mitch stripped them off him and somehow managed to wash the grunge and grim out of them. He stuffs the cargo pants' pockets with his pain pills and checks the holster for his knife. The long blade glistens in the moonlight. The woman even fucking scrubbed the dried gunk off his knife.
He peers through the cracks in the window down into the streets below. Even though it is the middle of the night, the almost full moon illuminates the dozen bodies, all of which are in various states of decay, clawing at the building. The fact that they are so desperate to gain access to the living residing inside sends a chill down Merle's spine. One bastard has been scrapping so vigorously at the brick wall that it has worn away the moldering flesh on its arms. And yet, it continuous to scratch at the building, trying to get in, with its exposed arm bones. Merle observes this site for several minutes, fascinated by the tenacity of those undead fuckers. He abruptly snaps out of it when he realizes that their numbers growing, any undead wandering in the nearby vicinity are drawn to the cluster of their kind.
"Fuck!" he exclaims, knowing they must act soon if they have a chance at survival. He quickly surveys the tiny room to make sure he isn't forgetting anything of importance. Satisfied, he heads into the kitchen, shoves a couple water bottles into his pockets, and then grabs the few knives stored on the countertop. He curses their lack of firepower.
He hears footsteps behind him and swiftly turns around, only to see Mitch standing there. Her shirt and arms are drenched in blood, the knife she used held limply in her hand. Her eyes are stone cold, her face expressionless. "It's done…" she states in a tone one would use to recite the state capitols.
"Christ…" Merle mutters under his breath. If she wasn't damaged goods before, she sure as hell was now. Unexpectedly, Mitch yanks off her bloodied shirt, letting it limply fall to the ground. Merle stares at her naked form as she rummages through an armoire leaning against one of the living room's walls. Death might be knocking at their door, but a man with eyes always likes to look. However, it is not so much her body he is mesmerized by, but rather what she is doing with it. Her movements are precise, swift, yet stiff, almost robotic. He becomes transfixed as he watches her pull out several pieces of clothing from the wooden drawers, examining each with scrutiny, deciding what to wear. Nothing about his gaze is sexual. The look in his eyes is the same as when people watch contortionists bend and twist their bodies in ways not humanly possible, he wants to look away but he can't.
She abruptly turns toward Merle and stares, not so much at him but more so into him. He can feel her eyes boring into his soul and slowly, he lifts his gaze. She coolly glares into his own icy blues, "The medication… all of it. In the bathroom, behind the mirror… Grab it..." Her nudity forgotten in this moment as is Merle's usual unwillingness to take orders from others. He briskly walks past her naked form and into the bathroom. Away from her frigid, dead eyes and cold, monotone voice Merle is able to breathe once again. He didn't even realize he had been holding his breath.
"Holy fuck…" Merle swears under his breath as he pockets every last pill bottle and roll of gauze. He considers abandoning her right there and then but knows he isn't that cold-hearted of a monster to leave someone to become an undead smorgasbord. He shrugs his shoulders, knowing he could always ditch her along the road if she kept this freak-show act up. The way she was acting truly unnerved him, even more so than those walking corpses outside.
Merle exits the bathroom and practically tackles Mitch to the ground. "Fuck woman! Gotta watch where ya walk!" he grumbles as she steps aside.
"Sorry," she mumbles, her eyes having returned to their usual soft appearance, "I needed clothes… couldn't be running through the streets half-naked."
Merle sighs, feeling genuinely relieved that the woman he almost knocked over was the Mitch he first met and not the stone-cold bitch from a few minutes ago. She is now wearing a pair of black sweat pants that hug her curves and a dark purple tank-top covered by an oversized sweater. His eyes drift to her ample cleavage being accentuated by the neckline of her shirt. Mitch senses his stares as she subconsciously pulls up the zipper.
"Ya ready?" Merle questions as he slings the heavier backpack over his shoulder. Mitch meekly nods, grabbing her bag and strapping it to her back. Merle's hand is on the doorknob, ready to turn it to open up the next chapter of their lives when Mitch's hand, still drenched in Owen's blood, falls on his forearm.
"Just wait," Mitch utters as she runs back into the apartment and grabs something off the window sill in the kitchen. Merle believes it looked like a cell phone but he knew she wasn't stupid enough to think she'd be making calls anything soon. Before he can get a good look at the object, she slides it into her backpack. She nods, "Let's go… This place was always meant for death… Just didn't think I'd be losing…" Unable to finish, she simple stands there, looking blankly into her former home.
"Ain't got all day," Merle stares impatiently at her. Just as he is about to walk away from her for good, she turns around and steps out of the apartment, closing the door behind her.