Chapter Sixteen: Escape
Merle gives Mitch a questioning look as she leads him up the stairs toward the roof. Sensing his hesitation she explains, "We can cross from this rooftop to the next... don't know how else to avoid those… things…"
He groans at the thought of being stuck on another roof, but follows willingly enough, knowing there is no other way. With the help of a discarded wooden plank, the two cross from one rooftop to the next. Merle briefly looks down and is tempted to yell obscenities at those stupid fucks who continue to scratch and claw at the building below, but knows it would be insanely stupid to draw attention their way. They slowly work down the back stairwell of the new building, extremely relieved to find it empty.
"That wasn't so bad," Mitch whispers. Merle shoots her a dirty look as he opens the metal door leading to the outside. Before he can tell her that things will only be getting worse, a creep missing half its face and upper torso lunges at him. Mitch gasps, shielding herself behind his solid body.
"Shit!" he exclaims as he stabs his knife through the thing's eye. It collapses before him but not before invading his nostrils with the putrid, rotting-meat smell perfuming the dead. He scowls and whips around, ready to bitch the bitch out for reacting so cowardly when she shoves him aside. "The fuck…" he utters as he watches Mitch stab her knife into the eye socket of another biter, much in the same fashion he had done seconds ago.
Mitch gags as she breathes in their odour, bringing her hand to her mouth in an attempt to stop the visceral reaction. She manages to swallow the bile that had come back up her throat. "Fuck… I thought I had seen it all working as a nurse… This is so bad… I didn't think…"
"An' its only gonna git worse darlin'," Merle drily states. He had forgotten she had been sheltered away from the true horror lurking these streets and realizes she was probably shell-shocked by it all. In light of that, he was impressed by the swiftness of her kill. Most people probably wouldn't have reacted as quickly and his fate would be the same as Owen, bleeding out from a neck wound. Mitch stares wide-eyed at the now dead undead. He puts his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort, "Ya get used ta the smell."
Her earlier indiscretion already forgotten as they stealthily enter the back alley. The moon's light illuminates several more undead congregating at the end of the alley. Much to their relief, those ones are shuffling toward Mitch's former home in a desperation to join forces with the growing herd, among it the handful of corpses initially attracted by Owen's screams. He tugs on Mitch's hand, pulling her in the opposite direction, "Get ya ass in gear. We gotta run."
They spend the next several hours weaving through the city blocks, slowly working their way to the city's outer limits. The streets are cluttered with abandoned vehicles, rubble from demolished buildings, and innumerable corpses, some roaming and others down for the count. Even though they had left the apartment before sun rise, they had only travelled a dozen blocks before the sun was already on its way out. Their beginnings were slow, having only the moon to light their way through the obstacles. However, as the sun began to rise, their pace slowed to a crawl as they entered areas of the city not evacuated to the safe zones. They needed to circle around blocks and backtrack several times because of the herds. The two were exhausted. Mitch's emotional exhaustion from her uncles' deaths was catching up to her and Merle could see she was fading fast. He himself was growing exhausted, his body still recuperating from infection and loss of limb. They were working their way through one of the neighborhoods Merle frequented before the apocalypse started when they came across a building he knew well.
"We should spend the night here darlin'," Merle drawls as he tries the door. He smirks as he feels the door unlatch and pushes it open.
"Really? Here?" Mitch raises an eyebrow at him. Merle was initially worried that as the day wore on and they came across more geeks that needed killing, she would revert to that robotic shell he had encountered in the apartment. To both their surprise, she took to killing the undead like a true survivor, her knowledge of human anatomy served her well. He also knew that part of her strength came from anger as he watched her repeatedly stab into the skull of a roamer, long after it fell to its final death.
Merle shrugs as the two enter the building cautiously, "There ain't no windows and only two doors... Should be safe 'nough for the night once we clear it."
"Ugh," Mitch utters as the stench of stale beer, old cigarettes, sweat, and a hint of rotting eggs invade her nostrils.
"Shhhh," Merle hisses under his breath as he shuts the door behind them, "Don't go flappin' ya lips 'till we know what's in here."
"Sorry," Mitch mouths as the two begin searching the seemingly empty establishment.
The emergency lights still function but their battery power is fading fast as they flicker away, giving the building an even more ominous feel. Merle pulls a couple flashlights out of his backpack and shines the light around the room. Several of the tables and chairs surrounding the centre stage have been overturned and everything is coated in a fine layer of dust. Though the room is poorly illuminated, they can see several pools of what probably is blood, alerting Merle to remain on high guard. Otherwise, everything looks pretty much as Merle remembers it, minus all the horny drunken men waving their dollar bills at the half-naked women shaking it on stage that is. Merle shakes his head as he thinks of all the crazy nights he and Daryl spent ogling the strippers. He can't help but wonder what happened to them, especially Ruby, the busty red-head he spent hundreds of dollars on in the champagne room.
His thoughts are interrupted by Mitch's gasps, "Jesus Christ! Merle!"
He rushes over to her side and looks down at what caused her to react. Well that was one mystery solved, he thinks to himself as he stabs his knife through the tangled red hair, into the former stripper's decaying skull. He shakes his head at the sight of her half-eaten body, only tendrils of rotting flesh flow from what used to be her waist.
"Let me guess. One of your favourites?" Mitch laughs trying to lighten the mood, "I mean I don't blame you... Even in death she has great tits."
Merle can't help but smile. It was the first time Mitch showed any real emotion since leaving the apartment. However, his survival instincts dominate as he quickly glances around the main bar area. He is relieved that Mitch's outburst didn't stir any trouble. "Ya need ta be quiet. Don't know what's lurkin' 'round here. Ya gonna git us ambushed..." Merle growls in a whispered voice. He curses his temper as he watches Mitch's face drop. He knows she has had a hard enough day without him reaming her out again, so he adds with a wink, "Gotta clear house before the fun 'n games."
"Sorry... You want to check the back rooms while I finish this area... I'm sure you are familiar with all this place's nooks and crannies," Mitch says quietly, a hint of a smile on her face. Merle likes that she never stays upset at him for long and that she isn't afraid to tease him. Many of the other people he had encountered during his life were too afraid to bullshit with him, even though he always enjoyed sarcastic banter. Fuck, his own baby brother was too afraid to shoot the shit with him.
Merle nods as he tightens the grip on his knife and heads toward the back of the club where the bathrooms, change room, and offices are located. The bathrooms were both empty but Merle felt slightly disturbed at how dirty they were. He wonders if they were always that way or if he just never noticed since he was always fucked up when he frequented the place. The change room was also empty. However, he feels a slight stirring in his pants at the sight of all the skanky costumes hanging in the lockers. A smile creeps onto his face at the memories of his time spent here, the busty waitresses, the seductive dancing of the girls on stage, and more importantly, his time spent in the champagne room. The girls could dance and they could suck a guy off, always for a price though.
He quickly checks on Mitch before entering the back rooms and is relieved to see her looking around chairs and behind overturned tables, being thorough in her search. He walks down the back hallway and feels apprehensive at the sight of the emergency door hanging slightly ajar. He firmly closes it and bolts it shut. That feeling of unease felt in the pit of his stomach grows and the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as he hears an eerie scratching sound.
He has an overwhelming urge to rush back to Mitch and check on her, but he knows the longer he lets that thing make noise, the higher the chance of attracting more undead freaks. He busts open the first door and breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of long-forgotten brooms, mop pails, and cleaning supplies. As he nears the door marked "office, staff only" the sound intensifies and he is certain what is on the other side. An awful moaning now accompanies the scratching sound.
"Fuck," he mutters under his breath as he tries the door knob only to find it locked. He takes a deep breath and is about to hammer the door down with his shoulder when he sees one of those emergency axes to be used in case of fire. He grabs the sharpened tool out of its box and attacks the doorknob with several precise swings. The door eventually creaks open. Merle's sense of smell is overpowered by the odour of death and decay as the undead ghoul shambles toward him. Merle recognizes the corpse to be that of Javier, the manager of the joint, by his tacky red suede suit. He swings the axe, this time smashing in the fuck's skull with a sickening thudding sound. He pushes the collapsed rotting corpse to the side as he enters the pungent smelling office.
Once he verifies that nothing else is hiding in the room, he begins searching the desk drawers. Being one of the club's favoured customers, he would often come back here and snort the good stuff with the higher ups. He had also spent some time in the slammer with a few of Javier's muscle men, which further helped his way in. Daryl never bothered to join the party back here, said he was happy to get blasted on booze. Merle slams his fist on the desk upon finding the drawers containing only the usual office things. It has been far too long since he last got wasted. While Mitch's drugs held him over, it just wasn't the same. As a compromise for not finding any coke, he swallows a couple pain pills from the bottle in his pocket.
Just as he is about to leave the office, he notices a note on the desk written by Javier, "Fuckers overran the joint. Locked myself in here. Off'd myself by using everything I had. At least I went out on a high note. Ha ha. Javier."
"Hmph," Merle grunts out loud. Asshole didn't have the decency to leave at least one hit. He then realizes that Javier was the second person to turn without being bit. As his mind works on piecing together that information, he chews on his thumb. Always helped him think. He wonders if he should mention something to Mitch as he walks back to where he last saw her. All thoughts come to a halt when he sees her sitting crossed-legged on the bar, bottle of Crown in one hand, shotgun in the other, and wearing nothing but a grin on her face.
"Jesus woman," Merle exclaims as he nears the nude woman. While he and his Dixon appreciated the seductive gesture, he thought she was incredibly stupid for stripping down when they hadn't secured the place. "What if a bunch of them fuckers were hidin' back there?"
"I guess I'd just have to fight them naked... That would be quite the sight," she bursts out into a fit of giggles, completely oblivious to the danger she could have gotten them in.
Merle slowly takes a big breath in through his nose in an attempt to calm his nerves. While he often made threats, he had never actually struck a woman, but this cunt just jeopardized his safety and chance of getting back to Daryl, "Ya wanna git us killed? Ya really turnin' inta a liability."
Mitch pouts, "Oh come on Merle. You're fine. I'm fine… I'm horny."
"Are ya fine?" Merle raises an eyebrow at her. First an ice-cold robot, now this? He scratches at his head, this woman maybe was more than he could handle, "Ya did just go through a hella lot."
Mitch shrugs her shoulders and Merle can't help but notice the action causes her bare breasts to bounce, "I've always said everything happens for a reason. By the looks of everything... My uncles are better off dead," Suddenly her eyes glisten with tears and she hops off the countertop, rapidly tugging on her tank-top and pants, "I'm so fucking stupid," she mutters as she shoves her bras and panties into the backpack. She swallows a sob, "So fucking stupid… Fuck... To think we could wait it out up there. To think we'd be saved... Fuck... I think I'm more upset that I'm alive than anything... I didn't think it was like this… I didn't think the whole world was… fucked…" She bows her head down, unable to look Merle in the eyes, as she takes a long drawn-out swig from the whisky bottle before slamming it down on the bar. He notices tears are threatening to make an appearance but Mitch fights them back with a swipe of her hand across her face.
For the first time Merle feels pity for the woman. He would never know what it would be like to be sheltered for so long then to get thrust into the middle of hell, after losing the only family she had too. Sometimes he forgot that not everyone was a fighter, not everyone had the training and survivalist background he did. The things they had seen and done as they fought their way through the streets and alleys of Atlanta before arriving at this building were enough to drive someone insane. Sure, she had flinched at the sight of the first mass of rotting flesh they had come across but she had never hesitated to kill one. She had also taken care of Owen in stride, something he was sure would be difficult for most people. She knew what had to be done. However unlikely, she was a survivor. He decides then and there that he will keep her safe. A life for a life.
Merle wraps his stump arm around her shoulders, grabbing the rifle from her shaking hands. She looks up at him, red-rimmed almost green eyes and a perplexed look on her face from the sudden display of affection. He eyeballs the gun, "Where ya find it?"
"Under the bar. Used to waitress at a divvy bar kind of like this, wasn't a strip club but had the same kind of feel. Owner always kept a gun under the ledge by the register in case of… well for extra protection," she says quietly, still trying to regain her composure after the outburst.
"Com'on," Merle smirks down at her as he leads her toward a curtained-off staircase, "We got one more room ta clear."