Carolina in my mind
Chapter 17
Carolina leaned back in the passenger seat of the black Silverado. The ancient manual truck she drove over with Daryl was quickly discarded for the sleek new one that Merle located just outside the building where Morgan hid the weapons from the police lockup. The gas tank was full. And now the truck bed was filled to the brim with weapons and plastic bins filled with food. They found so much inside Morgan's bunker, even the backseat of the four door cab was stuffed. They packed a few containers of food and supplies in the back of the armored truck to take back to Woodbury. Enough that the extra mileage they put on the vehicle wouldn't be questioned.
Carolina ran her hand over the back of the scruffy gray and white kitten that she nearly shocked herself silly again to save. The keys to the prison doors and cells were clamped in her other hand. Rick was extremely reluctant to turn them over to her. And really only did because Daryl convinced him that all of them needed a fall back location in case their plan to take over Woodbury went bad.
Merle climbed behind the wheel, not speaking until after he shut the door. And even then he kept his normally loud voice down, making sure that neither his brother or Rick could hear what he was saying.
"Ya sure 'bout this sugar?," he asked. Carolina nodded.
"Uh-huh. I think we should stash this stuff at the prison," she confirmed.
Merle gave her one more skeptical glance before he shrugged his shoulders and fired up the truck. Carolina knew he was planning to stash the guns and the food at the cabin with the rest of their stockpile. She expected a fight from him when she suggested they lock it in a cell at the prison. But instead, Merle leaned into her and whispered, asking her if this was more of her 'dream shit'. When she confirmed that it was, Merle immediately turned to Rick and demanded the prison keys.
Even though she was able to make his brother appear out of thin air, Carolina was still surprised at how quick Merle was to simply believe her. She never had anyone put that much faith in her before. And it made her curious, as she had been since the moment she woke up in his bed, about just how close they'd become since she played nurse to him after he lost his hand. It was obvious that Merle trusted her. And Carolina knew his trust didn't come easily. She felt a little guilty for not being able to place the same amount of trust in him. But in her defense, she'd known him less than a week. And her impression of him prior to now wasn't exactly favorable.
As Merle drove, Carolina stared quietly out the window. She was lost in thought, still reeling from Morgan's unexpected death and the possible ripple effect his absence might have on the rest of the group. After he took a nosedive off the roof, Rick knelt down and placed his hand on Morgan's neck to feel for a pulse. But once he knew the man that was shooting at them was dead, Rick moved away from the body without removing his mask. Rick still had no idea that Merle shot the man that saved his life. Carolina was the only one that knew.
"Where are we?," Carolina asked. "I thought we were going to the prison?"
"Just a pit stop," Merle explained. He gestured for her to stay put as he climbed out of the truck and darted inside the abandoned gas station they were parked in front of. A few moments later, he returned triumphant with two cartons of cigarettes and a large bag of dry cat food. Carolina laughed.
"I thought you said I couldn't keep her," she teased, looking down at the kitten in her lap. "...you said you didn't want her nasty shitter box stinking up the apartment."
"We'll just send her outside ta shit," Merle said, laughing when Carolina slid across the seat to kiss him. When she slid back, the kitten climbed down from her lap and pranced across the seat to sniff at Merle. And it must have smelled something it liked because it began to stalk back and forth, rubbing the length of her tiny body against his side.
"Shoo," he scolded, waving the tiny fur ball away. "Go on, git!" Merle reached down, shoving the kitten back towards Carolina. But the small animal seemed to be on a mission to molest him. Because it went running right back and climbed onto his lap, digging its tiny razor claws into his pants as it went. By this time, Carolina was laughing.
"I think you just made a friend," she teased.
"I fuckin' hate cats," Merle groused, snatching up his tiny attacker by the scruff and tossing it forcefully off his lap. It hit the back of the seat, clinging to it like velcro and letting out an angry yowl. Carolina grabbed the kitten, unlatching its claws from the upholstery and returning it to her lap before it could cause any more trouble.
"You know I had a cat," Carolina told him. "...before the outbreak." Merle nodded, indicating that he was well aware of her pre-apocalypse pets. Carolina pulled a fresh pack of cigarettes from the carton, tapping it against her hand to pack the tobacco. "You think we would've got together?," she asked. "I mean, if we met before the turn." Merle eyed her in disbelief.
"If we met before the turn," Merle huffed. "...the only thing I woulda got from ya is peppa spray to the face."
Carolina laughed at his honesty. A motorcycle gang leader who made his living selling drugs was probably not someone she would have chosen to spend her time with. But then again, it wouldn't be the first time her sex drive got her into trouble. The men she deemed appropriate to actually date usually bored her in bed even more than they bored her out of bed. So occasionally, she went looking for trouble. The best shag Carolina had in years, before she woke up in the apocalypse, was that philandering gym teacher she nailed in the backseat of her car. At least Merle wasn't married, she thought.
"I dunno," Carolina teased. "I like your accent." And your ass, she thought with a giggle. All the weird over the top racist nazi stuff, he could go ahead and keep to himself. Though after watching Merle interact with Martinez and Shumpert, Carolina wondered how much of that was even sincere. It wouldn't surprise her if it was all just some tough guy act Merle was putting on specifically to offend people.
The prison gates still weren't secured very well. But with no noise or activity to draw them in, there weren't many walkers hanging around either. Carolina tucked her kitten away into a small cardboard box on the floor of the truck that she already poked a few small holes in. Merle pulled the truck up as close to the building as he could. And they climbed out, each grabbing a bag of guns from the truck bed before they headed inside. Merle had his gun up. But it was obvious the moment they stepped inside that the cell block had already been cleared and secured by Rick's group, just like Daryl said.
On the first few trips inside, Merle kept close to her. But when she stopped for a drink of water, he headed inside without her. She gave him a wink as she passed him on her way in with a large tote full of flour and sugar. Carolina set the heavy tote down on the floor of the cell near the wall. As she was heading back outside for another load, she was suddenly grabbed roughly from behind.
"Make a sound and yer dead," the man hissed, showing her the knife in his hands before he moved it closer to her throat.
Carolina couldn't see the man. But she could tell from the brief look she got at his hand that he was dark complected. And she racked her brain for who it could be. Suddenly it hit her. The group of convicts that were still alive inside the prison when Rick and the others got there. She couldn't remember the smaller black man's name. But he was the one that lured the herd of walkers in. He was responsible for the deaths of T-Dog. And Lori. On the show. In this reality, that didn't happen. Because Merle destroyed the herd before anyone could get hurt.
"You're making a mistake," Carolina warned. She wasn't even sure what this fool thought he was doing. If he had any brains he would have waited until she and Merle left and then taken their cache of supplies and weapons. Unless it wasn't supplies and weapons he was after. The thought sent a shiver up Carolina's spine despite the muggy Georgia heat.
"Shut the hell up bitch," the man cursed.
You know what, Carolina thought, I don't think I will. Grabbing the wrist of the man's hand that was holding the knife, Carolina jerked it away from her neck and started screaming for Merle. She heard the heavy slam as he dropped whatever he was carrying in from the car onto the hard cement floor.
"Get yer fuckin' hands off her," Merle ordered, lifting his gun. Carolina noticed that while his body was tense, he still appeared to be in complete control of himself. If Merle was scared or panicked, he wasn't showing it. The man behind her, on the other hand, was starting to realize he just made a terrible life decision. The knife was shaking in his hand as he moved his body behind hers, using her as a human shield.
"Go back outside or she's dead!," the man threatened.
Merle didn't answer this time. Instead he began to edge to his left, trying to get the man in his line of fire. The man saw this and moved in the opposite direction, trying to keep Carolina between himself and the business end of Merle's gun. As he pulled her backwards a step, there was an awkward shuffle of their feet. When Carolina bumped her boot into one of his feet, she realized that the man wasn't wearing proper shoes or boots himself but thin canvas slip ons that were likely part of his prison uniform. That gave her an idea. Carolina was still gripping his sweaty wrist in her hand. And she lifted her other hand to join the first. Pulling the knife down and away from her throat as best she could, she lifted her boot and slammed it down as hard as she could on top of the man's foot. She felt a few of his toes crunch under her hard stomp. And the man screamed out in pain. Carolina jerked away from him, saving her throat but cutting her forearm up on his knife in the process.
Merle fired twice, hitting the man in the chest and head. He staggered forward a step before dropping to the ground. A large pool of fresh blood immediately began to spread out under his corpse. Merle charged over, grumbling racial expletives as he delivered a few hard kicks to the man's dead body. When he was done with his fit, he turned his attention to Carolina.
"Lemme see," he drawled, gripping her gently by the wrist and turning her arm to see how badly she'd been cut. "Yer a'right," he promised. "It's not deep." Carolina nodded, holding her bleeding arm out away from their bodies as she leaned in and hugged Merle with her good arm. He pulled her against him and held her close. "Ya did good," he whispered. "I think ya broke his foot 'fore I plugged him." Merle's hold on her tightened possessively before he released her.
After Carolina's arm was bandaged up to Merle's satisfaction, they finished loading in the rest of the guns and supplies. The small cell was packed near full. Carolina stepped out and locked the metal cell door, glancing around the prison. The cellblock looked bigger than it had on the show. But maybe that was because it was empty. It will be full of people soon, she thought. Suddenly, Carolina felt like there was a big bat flapping around in her stomach. She had a funny hunch that Merle's plan of heading south and finding an island was never going to pan out. They were going to end up at the prison no matter what he did. Because this was where they were meant to be. At least for a while.
"I think I'm going to leave my kitty here," Carolina said. "We can pick her up when we come back for this stuff."
Merle shrugged. He obviously couldn't care less what she did with the animals. She could probably throw the kitten over the fence to the walkers without getting a reaction from him. Carolina unlocked the cell and poured the entire bag of food onto the floor. Then she filled the largest bowl she could find up with water. She knew the kitten was small enough to slip through the bars and wander the prison. But it could also slip back into the cell if anything came after it. Merle leaned against the bars of a nearby cell, sucking on a cigarette as he watched her.
"How 'bout we take one bag of guns and shit over to the cabin before we go back to town?," he suggested, glancing over the items with his brows furrowed. Carolina stood silent for a moment before she realized Merle was looking at her expectantly. Like he was waiting for her to give him permission for what he wanted to do. Which felt sort of hilarious. When did she suddenly become the boss of Merle?
"Yeah," Carolina agreed with a giggle. "Having a backup plan sounds like a good idea to me." Carolina scratched her head, tucking the strands of hair that escaped her ponytail behind her ears. "...or is this the backup plan?"
Merle laughed as he emptied one of the large black duffel bags onto the bottom bunk. He poked through the other bags, filling the empty one with the items he wanted. He took a few guns. But mostly extra ammunition. Then he waved Carolina into the cell, encouraging her to pick out a weapon for herself.
"What does it matter what gun I pick?," she asked. "...I don't know how to shoot any of them." Merle turned, looking at her like she'd lost her damn mind.
"What the hell do ya mean, ya can't shoot? You can shoot. I fuckin' taught ya how ta shoot!," he snipped. From the look of total irritation on his face, Carolina guessed that teaching her how to shoot wasn't something Merle did in passing. He must have really been invested in turning her into a good shot. Carolina cringed slightly, offering him a sheepish grin. Merle leaned towards her, raising his voice more than necessary. "Ya mean ta tell me, ya don't rememba how ta shoot? How can someone just ferget how ta shoot?" It wasn't his words, but the tone and volume of his voice that irritated her. She hated when men talked to her like she was stupid.
"Jesus," Carolina huffed. "Not all of us came out of the womb with a gun in hand. I can't remember anything that happened before I hit my head the other night. I told you that. Would you rather I remembered how to shoot instead of knowing where Daryl was and that The Governor is a psychopath?"
Merle raked his eyes up and down her body, thinking over what she said. It was obvious that he'd much rather have to teach her how to shoot again than to still be searching for Daryl. Finally he sighed, releasing the tension from his body and placing his hand gently on her shoulder.
"Ya did good findin' baby brother for me," he agreed. "If you can't rememba how ta shoot, I'll just show ya again." Turning away, Merle plucked a small handgun from the bag. Carolina took it when he handed it to her, holding it nervously in her hands. "Come on," Merle encouraged, wrapping his arm around her and leading her towards the outside door. "Yer gonna pick it up quicker this time 'cause ya already learned once. It'll be just like riding a bike."