Red River Blue
Chapter 71
"It's on your side," Merle said, leaning against the trunk of an old broken down car as he watched a walker shuffle up behind Negan as the man finally managed to stab the one he was struggling with through the head.
Merle had no idea where these weird looking biters came from. But they'd clearly been there a while. Some sort of thorny vines had grown around and through their bodies, making them harder and more awkward to kill. With how long it had been since the initial outbreak, people were starting to wonder why there were still so many walkers wandering around. Eight plus years should have been more than enough to break their rotting bodies down to the point where they were no longer mobile. These walkers led credibility to Eugene's theory that the dead must be going dormant somehow. The small herd that wandered into his and Negan's path certainly looked like they had been lying somewhere long enough that mother nature almost had her way with them.
Negan turned, taking out the walker that approached him from behind. The thorny vines that were covering their undead bodies scratched his arms up badly enough that he was bleeding in a few spots. Negan rolled his sleeves down, deciding to deal with the minor injuries once they got to their intended location.
"Behind you," Negan warned without much urgency in his tone.
Merle spun just in time to see the walker that was advancing on him from behind. It was covered in the same thorny mess as the others. Merle took a step back, trying to get a better angle to stab the thing without getting scratched up. His ankles caught on what used to be the bumper of the car and he stumbled backwards and fell. The walker flopped down on top of him, cutting up his chest with the thorny crap it was covered in. Merle swung his arm piece, cutting through the vines before they cut his face up along with his chest and abdomen. Blinking at the pollen and sap that was dripping into his face, he pulled his handgun from the holster and fired. The creature's head exploded, splashing congealed blood along with more of the sap mess all over him.
Merle cursed up a storm as he pushed the body off and struggled to his feet. He lifted his shirt, using the hem to try and clean the mess out of his eyes. His vision was turning blurry around the edges. And while he wasn't scared of much, the thought of losing his ability to see was making the panic rise in his chest.
"Hold still," Negan said, pulling his canteen from the side pocket of his bag.
"Get your fuckin' hands off me!," Merle hollered, swinging his arm piece around. Negan ducked out of the way, rolling his eyes at the stubborn idiot.
"That was hogweed," Negan said. "If you don't rinse that shit out of your eyes you'll go blind. Permanently."
Merle swung at the sound of his voice. Negan ducked him again, this time moving behind the man and grabbing him by the back of the shirt. He slammed Merle down onto the trunk of the car.
"You're gonna get yourself killed," Negan warned. "Just fucking cooperate."
Merle grumbled a few choice words. But to his credit, he held mostly still and let Negan pour the contents of his canteen down over his eyes until the sap was rinsed away.
"What the fuck are you helping me for," Merle grumbled, drying his eyes with the clean shirt Negan pulled from his bag and shoved at him. "Thought you'd want me dead so you can snake my fuckin' wife."
"I can snake your wife while you're alive," Negan quipped.
Negan darted around the side of the old car, laughing as he watched Merle throw a rather epic fit. The man was swinging his arm piece around blindly, trying to hit him with it. But all he managed to do was trip over the body of the walker he just killed and fall flat on his face. Negan laughed harder, only stopping when he noticed a large group of walkers was approaching their position. They must have been drawn in by either the sound of Merle's gun or the loud fit he threw after
"No more games," Negan hissed, grabbing Merle and yanking him to his feet. "There's dead incoming. Too many."
Merle locked his one good hand into the back of Negan's shirt, reluctantly letting the man pull him along like a trailer on a truck. With his vision nothing but a painful blur, he didn't have another option. Thankfully, the two men weren't very far from the fall back location they left town to secure. Negan pushed Merle against the ladder, praying that he would be able to pick his way up and onto the suspended platform without his eyes to guide him. The small herd was still trailing behind them, getting much too close for comfort.
Negan stabbed the walkers that were closing in on them, hollering at Merle to hurry the fuck up. Once he hit the top of the ladder, Negan turned and scrambled up. He had to kick one walker off when it managed to grab ahold of his pant leg. But other than that, he made it up into the makeshift treehouse unscathed. Negan pulled the ladder up behind him, letting it clatter onto the platform on the opposite side from where Merle was sitting.
"There's too many," Negan huffed. "We'll have to park it here for the night. Or at least until you can see again."
Merle didn't answer, he just shrugged his pack off and flopped down onto the platform. Negan watched the rapid heave of Merle's chest, realizing that the man was probably on the verge of a full fledged panic attack. Negan could say a lot about Merle. But the man wasn't a coward. Wandering blindly through the woods with the sounds and smells of the dead all around them was likely even more frightening than it sounded. And Negan couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if their positions were reversed and he was the one that took the hogweed to the eyes. Would Merle help him? Or would he leave him for the dead?
"Got any water?," Negan asked. When Merle responded with his middle finger, Negan rolled his eyes. "I used mine washing your fucking eyes out," he added.
"Fuck you," Merle huffed. He reached for his bag, missing it on the first try. Once Merle managed to grip the pack, he tossed it towards the sound of Negan's voice. Merle settled back onto the platform, trying to concentrate on not rubbing or scratching at his burning itchy eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was make his situation worse than it already was.
Negan found the water easily. It was in a canteen secured to the side of Merle's pack. And since he had nothing better to do, he unzipped the pack and poked through it. He knew River packed Merle's bag for him. And Negan was curious to see what was inside. Most of the stuff was the same crap that everyone packed in their bags when they went on runs. Water purification tablets, a spare pair of socks, a waterproof poncho, a small fire starting kit, basic first aid supplies, and extra ammunition. But on top of all that, there were two insulated lunch bags. Negan grinned, knowing that was the part of the bag that River must have packed.
"Stay out of my fuckin' supper," Merle hollered, not bothering to lift his forearm off his face.
"There's two bags in here," Negan countered. Merle snorted in irritation. River always packed dinner for him and whoever was going on the run with him. But he naturally assumed that gesture wouldn't be extended to Negan.
"The one with the chicken salad sandwich is mine," Merle barked.
Negan opened the first bag, pulling out a bag of homemade trail mix and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. There was also some fruit leather and a well corked bottle of apple cider. The second bag contained the same items, except for the sandwich. Like Merle said, there was an ice pack and a cold chicken salad sandwich inside. It looked good too, oozing with homemade mayonnaise and crunchy bits of nuts and celery.
"There's no chicken sandwich," Negan lied. "...just two peanut butter and jellies."
Negan stuffed the peanut butter sandwich and the rest of the food back into the bag with it before he tossed it at Merle, aiming for his head and keeping the chicken sandwich for himself. When Negan pulled the cider from Merle's lunch bag, a folded scrap of paper fluttered out and landed in his lap. Negan chewed on a large bite of River's chicken salad as he unfolded the note and read what was written in her loopy girlish script.
I'll hold you in my heart until I can hold you in my arms.
Even though the note wasn't for him, he still felt the pull in the pit of his stomach. Negan took another bite of sandwich, glancing at Merle and only feeling a little guilty as he folded the note back up and tucked it away into his own pocket. Merle was sitting up, sipping on the bottle of cider. It was obvious that he was still unable to see. His eyes were not only red rimmed and slightly swollen, they were also glassy and unfocused.
Looking the man over, Negan wondered the same thing he always wondered. What the hell does she see in him? Merle looked at least a decade older than he actually was. And unlike the rest of them, most of the damage he inflicted to his body happened long before the end of the world. It was obvious that he'd been addicted to hard drugs at some point.
Merle was the kind of man Negan would have recruited to his army. Because he was prone to brutal violence and could easily be persuaded to follow orders. Looking at his redneck ass, who would believe that Merle was one of the main reasons the militia got the better of him all those years ago?
Negan sat, quietly eating his food as he let his mind wander down into a rabbit hole of what ifs and might have beens. He didn't notice that Merle finished his cider until the man plunked the empty bottle down onto the platform next to him.
"I know you ate my fuckin' sandwich," Merle hissed. "...and as soon as I can see again, I'm kicking yer ass."