Dark Meat [Walking Dead]

Chapter Three

-- Firstly, I don't own The Walking Dead (obviously) and secondly, does everybody hate Lori Grimes? I do :D --

The house isn't exactly small, though it isn't large than most townhouses. With thick paneling outside of white-washed wood and a cute porch out front, it's every much the stereotypical farmhouse. Inside is cozy, aside from the blood splatters near the back of the living room. They have already dried and stained the tacky wallpaper and filled the house with a familiar metallic scent.

Merle kicks the unlocked door open and holds his hunting knife in a defensive position, while Daryl and I follow, also griping our own weapons. I can feel my heart beat pounding in my ears, nearly drowning at the sound of the floorboards creaking beneath our weight.

A Walker stumbles quickly from around the corner, though Daryl shoots it immediately, a sharp arrow piercing its forehead. It drops to the floor and begins to bleed out, yet Merle steps over the corpse and continues to clear the house.

Daryl turns to me and says in a hushed voice, "Yeh c'n stay 'ere, Finch." I nod nervously, my hands shaking a little before awkwardly sitting down on the plush lounge beside me. Neither of the brothers seem inclined to call me by my first name, opting of 'Kid' or just simply calling my by my surname.

Luckily, Merle had switched of the Ute lights and brought in the two eskis, meaning there isn't any real reason for us to have go back outside, even if this house does cast an awful lot of shadows. I was never afraid of the dark prior to all of this, but now everything scares me. Every little cricket, owl and creak of the house. Even the howls of the wind makes me jump now.

It only takes ten minutes for Daryl and Merle to lock the doors and clear the house before they walk back into the living room, startling me from my thoughts. I squeak and stare up at them before calming myself.

"'S all good." Daryl mutters, shouldering a large duffel bag he'd brought in with him. I nod cautiously and look at Merle, silently asking him what to do next. The younger of the two drops the bag in the middle of the room and rests his crossbow against an armchair.

Merle yawns. "We' I'm tired, so see y'all in the mornin'." He mumbles, scratching the back of his head before walking down the hall and into presumably a bedroom. Daryl grunts quietly as a goodbye an looks at me awkwardly.

I can feel the blood dripping down from the roots of my hair and onto my already dirtied face. It's still on my hands, despite having tried to wipe it off on my leggings. My screwdriver is not much better. I wipe the clean back of my sleeve against my forehead so that the blood doesn't get into my eyes, nose or mouth, otherwise it could spell the end for me.

"There's... Er, a bedr'm ov'r 'ere, down that 'all." He tells me, jutting his chin in the direction of the hall, though it's the opposite end of where Merle is supposedly sleeping. Daryl seems nice enough, in a really distant way, unlike Merle who really doesn't give a shit.

"Thanks," my reply is soft and barely audible, but I know he probably heard me. "F'r eveythin', I mean."

Daryl shrugs, almost uncomfortably and picks up his bag again before entering the hall with only a small nod in my direction. I quickly scuttle off the lounge, feeling nervous about both the dead Walker body not far from the hall entrance and over being alone.

Thankfully Daryl and his brother cleared the small house before hand, so that settles my riled nerves a little as I turn quickly to the left once I reach the hall. There are two doors on that side. The first, after I opened it quickly, half expecting a Walker to jump out at me, I discover is the bathroom. It's a quaint little room complete with shower and bathtub, both of which I intend to use very soon. That leaves the second to be bedroom.