Kali POV:
Walking back to the campsite was quiet which we both didn't mind but it allowed my mind to wander.
Bombed?! How could Atlanta be bombed?
The shock of the news reverberated through my exhausted body. Nighttime had descended upon us, casting a somber atmosphere over the camp. I felt a surge of restlessness, rendering me wide awake despite my overwhelming fatigue. Or perhaps it was the weight of this revelation that kept me from finding solace in sleep. I couldn't comprehend it, and part of me refused to believe it.
Our tents were set up a good distance away from the other survivors, offering a semblance of privacy and space. Yet, at this moment, I found myself sitting alone in a lawn chair, staring at the empty firepit before me. With elbows on my knees and my face buried in my hands, I tried to process the magnitude of the destruction that had befallen Atlanta.
Interrupting my thoughts, I halted Daryl in his tracks as he approached our shared tent, the last bag in his hand.
"We're going to get Mom tomorrow, right?" I asked, my voice tinged with quiet desperation. I needed to hold on to the hope that somehow, against all odds, she was alive.
Daryl's response was accompanied by a heavy sigh, his struggle evident in his tone. "Kal..." he began, just by his tone of voice, I could tell he was trying to find a way to let me down easily.
"But we have to, Daryl!" I pleaded, my desperation pushing me to stand up and confront the painful truth.
Before he could finish his sentence, Merle emerged from wherever he had been, cutting off Daryl's response. "Chances are good she's dead, River Girl." His words carried a blunt cynicism that struck a chord within me, even though I despised admitting it. Daryl shot a glare at Merle at his bluntness. Daryl may have agreed with Merle but this was not the way to go about this.
"But we don't know that for sure!" I declared, my voice quivering with defiance. Blinking back the tears that threatened to fall, Dixon's don't cry, I reminded myself.
"Stop complaining, Kali Dixon," Merle's words lashed out, hitting me with a force that left me both enraged and crestfallen. I glared at him, disbelief and anger bubbling within me. How could he be so callous? I turned to Daryl, hoping for some support, but he remained silent, his expression inscrutable. At that moment, I felt a wave of frustration, a sense of being let down by the very people who were supposed to be my family.
"I swear you don't care about anyone other than yourself Merle," I retorted, my voice dripping with bitterness. The words were laced with resentment, a direct challenge to his selfishness. With a heavy sigh, I turned away, seeking the confines of my tent. As I stepped inside, I made sure to kick off my shoes, the physical act serving as a release for the pent-up emotions that threatened to consume me.
Fuck them, I would go find her myself if they didn't want to help.
Needless to say, I didn't wind up going to Atlanta at all. But Merle did with some of the others from the camp and that left me more than shocked. I figured Daryl must have said something to him, though I wasn't sure how, but I also knew not to question it.
3 Weeks Later:
I was sitting at the top of the Quarry my legs dangling over the edge of the cliff reading my 'The Outsiders' for the umpteenth time overlooking the blue water below. I really needed new reading material but I also didn't mind reading this again. Merle was in Atlanta again with the others. I was now on better talking terms with him. He was still out there looking for my mom and I wouldn't dare admit it to him but I was thankful. Daryl was out hunting and it was probably the first time we were all apart since the start of all this. He told me my self-defense was getting better and trusted me to be on my own.
I paused my reading, lifting my gaze to take in the scene around me. Dale stood watch on the RV, as always. Shane was teaching Carl about knots, Amy was tending to the fire with Lori, and everyone was helping out around camp, it really was like a small community.
But what caught my attention and the other's as well was the radio going off on top of the RV.
"Basecamp this is T-dog" Scratching radio noise.
"Hello. Hello." Dale replied back into a speaker. "Reception is bad on this end. Repeat. Repeat."
It was hard to make out what they were saying as the radio was so staticky. "Trapped... Department store..."
As I meandered towards the gathering crowd, a mild sense of concern washed over me. The news of the trapped group echoed through the camp, prompting discussions about potential rescue efforts. Should someone go help them? It seemed like the obvious choice, yet a peculiar blend of concern and disinterest enveloped me. On one hand, I hoped for their safe escape, wishing no harm would befall them. On the other hand, I couldn't help but feel a certain indifference, knowing that Merle possessed a knack for survival. Annoying as he may be, he had a knack for coming out unscathed. After all, as Daryl always said, only Merle could kill Merle.
Shane's ultimate choice to forgo assisting the trapped group left a wave of disappointment in its wake, causing evident discontent among individuals like Lori and Amy. Wanting to disengage from it, I quietly made my way to my tent, seeking an alternative to my reading endeavors. Embracing a more hands-on approach, I took on various practical tasks, such as gathering firewood, organizing my brother's clothes, and lending a hand to Carol in washing dishes.
It was relatively quiet between us but it was a comfortable one. It was momentarily disrupted by the piercing wail of a car alarm approaching our camp. Setting aside the dish I had been drying, I quickly abandoned my task and hurried to investigate the source of the clamor. To my surprise, it was Glenn, a broad grin lighting up his face as he emerged from a vibrant red Mustang, accentuated by a sleek black stripe down the middle.
As I arrived, Dale's voice could be heard urgently instructing Glenn to turn off the alarm, but Glenn seemed uncertain about how to do so. Amidst the clamor, Jim stepped in, skillfully going under the hood to silence the blaring alarm. Meanwhile, Amy bombarded Glenn with a barrage of questions, seemingly oblivious to the ongoing noise.
With the car alarm finally silenced, Glenn took a moment to address the relieved crowd. "Yes, yes, everybody is fine," he reassured, bringing a collective sigh of relief. I felt a wave of gratitude for the false alarm, knowing that people had been needless. A lingering sense of dread settled over me as Glenn's gaze swept across the small gathering, pausing briefly when his eyes met mine. Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach as he uttered those dreaded words, "...Merle, on the other hand, not so much."
Noone reacted to the news of Merle. I froze. What happened to Merle?
While Shane and Dale steered the conversation toward the walkers and the noise from the car, Glenn's eyes flicked back and forth between them and me.
No one cared about Merle.
What happened to Merle?! I wanted to ask what had happened, to demand answers, but my lips remained frozen. All I could feel was the steady rhythm of my own breathing as if the world had suddenly narrowed down to just me and my racing thoughts.
A white moving truck came into view, slowly approaching the camp. Glenn had to be wrong, right? Merle would be back soon.
It was hard watching everyone reunite and the emotional embraces, my eyes inadvertently landed on Lori and Carl as they were reunited with the new sheriff. The sight hit me like a wave of bitterness and resentment. It felt unfair, and unjust, to see others finding solace and joy in the arms of their loved ones while I remained bereft of such comfort. Dixon's don't cry but I felt the tears well up. Whether it was from how I was feeling or the emotional cry of Carl yelling out for his dad, I don't know.
A knot formed in my chest, a bitter reminder of the void that plagued me. I turned my gaze away. Everyone was back but Merle.
"Where's my brother!?" I finally snapped breaking up the tender moments and having all eyes on me. I looked from the new guy to Glenn to all the others who just came back.
Glenn's face faltered, but it was a newcomer who broke the silence, his expression tinged with remorse.
"Who are you?" I snapped, frustration seeping into my voice as the group remained silent.
"Rick. Rick Grimes," he introduced himself, his tone carrying a weight of heaviness.
My impatience growing, I pressed on, the desperation evident in my strained voice. "Where is my brother? Merle."
Rick hesitated, his gaze downcast for a moment, before delivering the news I dreaded. "There's no easy way to put this. He got left behind."
Anger surged within me, ready to spill over, but Rick continued before I could unleash my fury. "He's not an easy person to deal with."
"Yeah, I know," I snapped again, frustration seeping through my words. "Doesn't mean you leave him behind. He w-" I caught myself, realizing the fallacy of my own thoughts. Merle wouldn't hesitate to leave them behind if it served his interests. And if I was being honest with myself, I had left people behind too over a month ago. Part of me still felt guilty about it despite Daryl trying to reassure me otherwise.
Frustration welled up within me, manifesting in the clenching and unclenching of my fists. I let out an exasperated huff, doubting that they would make any effort to go back for him after leaving him in the first place. I would just have to wait for Daryl to return.
"Daryl's gonna have a field day," I muttered, my voice laced with a mixture of anticipation and annoyance, directed more at Rick.
As Rick opened his mouth to say more, my patience wore thin. "I don't give a fuck what you have to say, so save it," I cut him off, my tone sharp and dismissive.
Taking a deep breath, I gathered my emotions, tucking away my anger, and made my way to my tent area where I could wait for Daryl's return. It was the only thing I could do, to endure this place until we could leave it behind.
In the midst of my frustration, I channeled my anger into practicing the self-defense moves Daryl taught me, seeking solace and control in the repetitive motions.
Nighttime:
As the evening grew darker and the group gathered around the campfire, listening to Rick share his story, I remained isolated from the rest declining Lori's invitation to join them. Daryl still hadn't returned, and I found solace in my own solitude, keeping my distance from the group.
I was trying to get an early sleep and not worry about any of my family but sleep eluded me as worry consumed my thoughts. Was Merle alive? Did he find mom? Was mom dead? What was taking Daryl so long? Should I go look for him? Was he in trouble too? Was I alone? The weight of uncertainty settled in my chest, forming a lump in my throat, making it impossible to find peace in the darkness.
I huddled in a small ball, I rested my head on Daryl's makeshift pillow of balled-up shirts. The mingling scents of sweat and smoke provided a strange comfort, and a few tears slipped down my cheeks. I hastily wiped them away. Dixon's don't cry, I repeated silently. If Daryl wasn't back by morning, I would muster up and go search for him.