Unearthed ↦ Daryl Dixon

1.04

You stood there, still in shock over the scene in front of you. The thought of being so afraid for your life that you cut off your hand was almost too much to bear. A part of you felt horrible for Merle, despite how awful he had been since you met him. Most of all, you felt horrible for Daryl. You couldn't imagine if it had been Rick in Merle's place.

Daryl lifted his crossbow, letting out a huff as he aimed it at T-Dog's head. Luckily, Rick was quick to react, lifting his own gun to Daryl's head.

"I won't hesitate." Rick spoke. "I don't care if every walker in the city hears it."

Daryl eyed Rick for a moment, contemplating his options. Finally, he lowered his crossbow. He looked back at Merle's hand before turning to T-Dog once more.

"You got a do-rag or something?"

T-Dog nodded, slowly reaching into his pocket. He then handed it to Daryl, keeping his eyes on the crossbow.

Daryl walked over to Merle's hand, picking it up by the thumb and wrapping it up. "I guess the saw blade was too dull for the handcuffs. Ain't that a bitch." He then walked over to Glenn, placing the now wrapped hand in his backpack.

"He must've used a tourniquet... maybe his belt. There'd be much more blood if he didn't."

You pointed to the blood trail on the ground. "He couldn't have gotten too far like that."

Daryl looked at you, nodding before running off in the direction of the blood trail. T-Dog quickly grabbed the bag of tools they'd left previously, everyone following closely behind Daryl. You soon ended up in another part of the building.

"Merle, you in here?" Daryl called out.

As you entered an office, a walker stepped out from behind the counter. Daryl wasted no time shooting it in the head, signaling for the rest of you to keep following him. Two walkers, already put down, laid on the floor.

"He had enough in him to take out these two sumbitches." Daryl mumbled. "One handed. Toughest asshole I ever met, my brother. Feed him a hammer, he'd crap out nails."

"Any man can pass out from blood loss, no matter how tough he is." Rick responded.

"Merle!"

Rick shook his head. "We're not alone here. Remember?"

"Screw that." Daryl spat. "He could be bleeding out. You said so yourself."

You pushed open a set of doors, revealing a kitchen. The stove was lit up, a flame coming from one of the burners. A belt sat on the counter beside it. Glenn picked up an iron, inspecting it closely.

"What's the burned stuff?" You asked.

"Skin." Rick responded. "He cauterized the stump."

Glenn dropped the iron as his face scrunched up.

"Told you he was tough." Daryl commented. "Nobody can kill Merle but Merle."

"Don't take that on faith. He's lost a lot of blood."

"Yeah?" Daryl asked, pointing to a shattered window. "Didn't stop him from busting out of this death trap."

"He left the building?" Glenn asked. "Why the hell would he do that?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Daryl asked. "He's out there alone as far as he knows, doing what he's got to do. Surviving."

"You call that surviving?" T-Dog asked. "Just wandering out in the streets, maybe passing out? What are his odds out there?"

"No worse than being handcuffed and left to rot by you sorry pricks." Daryl snapped. "You couldn't kill him. Ain't so worried about some dumb dead bastard."