Catch Fire | Daryl Dixon

FADE TO BLACK

Glenn and Maggie spun around, guns instantly raised, as the stranger emerged from the shadows without warning. Their movements were swift, tense, and deliberate as they edged toward their car. I hesitated in the doorway, torn between running and staying to help. The man's eyes bore into theirs with an intensity that sent chills down my spine. His dishevelled appearance and unreadable expression set off alarm bells in my head.

"Merle?" Glenn gasped as if seeing a ghost. The stranger lowered his weapon, a wave of recognition crossing his face as he moved toward them. "You made it," Glenn continued, though his tone was tinged with disgust.

"Can you tell me, is my brother alive?" the man, Merle, asked, his voice rough and desperate. I cautiously stepped out of the doorway, my eyes never leaving the group before me. Something about this man screamed danger, setting every instinct on edge. Blood dripped from a gash on his forehead, and his presence radiated menace. If these were the kind of people I'd encounter if I joined their group, maybe I would be better off alone.

"Take me to him, and I'll call it even on everything that happened in Atlanta. No hard feelings, huh?" Merle continued, his gaze locked on Glenn, a twisted grin on his face. Glenn and Maggie exchanged uneasy glances, their fear and uncertainty palpable. The dread inside me intensified as I realized I couldn't abandon them. Despite the danger, I couldn't leave them to face this threat alone.

"We'll tell Daryl you're here, and he'll come out to meet you," Glenn countered, his voice firm. But I could see the anxiety in his eyes. Merle was once part of their group, but now suspicion and distrust had taken root. Whatever he had done, it must have been bad for them to hesitate to let him see his own brother.

Merle's face twisted with panic. "Hold up here. The fact that we found each other is a miracle. Come on, you can trust me." His voice was pleading, but there was a hard edge to it. My irritation flared as he spewed his lies, his attempts to weave trust with empty words. Trust was earned through actions, not desperate pleas.

"You trust us; you stay here," Glenn ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The tension between them crackled like electricity, each second heavy with the threat of violence. Their eyes locked in a fierce battle of wills. As I edged closer, I noticed a second gun concealed at Merle's waist. Instinctively, I reached out to warn Glenn, but it was too late. 

Merle's hand shot to his weapon, his desperation erupting into violence. Two gunshots rang out, shattering the quiet of the town. The first bullet blasted through the rear window of their car. The second tore through my shoulder, sending a jolt of searing pain through my body. I cried out, collapsing to the ground, my hands instinctively clutching the wound as blood seeped between my fingers.

Staggering, Glenn and I scrambled behind the abandoned car for cover. As we rounded the other side, the sight that greeted us froze my blood. Merle had Maggie, his arm tight around her neck, his gun pressed to her temple. The look in his eyes was wild, a predator cornered and desperate.

"Put your gun in the car!" Merle barked, his voice trembling with fury. Every second stretched out agonizingly, each heartbeat echoing in the tense silence. I struggled to stay on my feet, the pain radiating through my entire body. Glenn's face was a mask of dread as he slowly lowered his weapon, placing it in the back of the car.

"There you go," Merle sneered. "Now we're gonna go for a little drive."

"We're not going back to our camp," Glenn spat, shaking his head defiantly.

My vision blurred, the world spinning as I fought to remain conscious. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, and my breaths came in ragged gasps. Merle's voice became distant, muffled, as if underwater. I saw Glenn move toward me, his lips moving, but I couldn't make out the words. My body gave out, collapsing onto the pavement as the darkness closed in.

---

I woke to the dull throb of pain in my shoulder. The world around me was blurry, the shapes and colours merging into a confusing haze. I blinked, trying to clear my vision, and gradually the scene came into focus.

Slumped in the back seat of a moving car, I felt heavy and disoriented. Maggie's worried face hovered over me, her eyes filled with concern. Across from me, Merle's twisted grin sent a shiver down my spine.

"Lookie, she's awake!" He chuckled, his tone mocking.

I tried to speak, my throat dry and scratchy. "What happened? Where are we going?" I croaked out.

"You were shot," Maggie said, her voice trembling. Merle still had his gun to her head, and his grin widened at my confusion.

"Don't worry," he interrupted, his grin stretching wider, "we're getting you help. The Governor's gonna love you."

I tried to sit up, but the pain in my shoulder was like a white-hot knife, forcing me back against the seat. My shirt was soaked with blood, the sight sending a wave of fear crashing over me. The memory of the gunshot replayed in my mind, sharp and vivid.

Merle's eyes stayed on me, cold and calculating. Behind the smugness, I sensed a man on edge, ready to snap. I tore my gaze away from him, trying to focus on the rhythmic hum of the car's engine, the gentle sway of the vehicle lulling me into a drowsy state.

With every passing moment, I felt myself slipping in and out of consciousness. I struggled to stay awake, terrified that if I blacked out again, I might not wake up. But it was a losing battle. The darkness crept closer, the edges of my vision dimming until everything faded to black.

---

The sudden jolt of the car stopping and the frantic voices of Glenn and Maggie stirred me back to awareness. The sensation of being carried was disorienting, the world spinning as I tried to make sense of my surroundings. Firm hands gripped me as I was brought into a building, the cool air hitting my skin, mingling with the distant sounds of activity around me.

I was laid down on a cold, hard surface, the room dimly lit. My shirt was gone, leaving me in just my bra and jeans, and I flinched in surprise as I noticed a short man kneeling beside me, his face scrunched in concentration as he examined my shoulder. His hands were rough, but there was a determination in his eyes.

As I lay there, trying to process everything, a sharp pain lanced through my shoulder, forcing a gasp from my lips. The man continued to probe the wound, muttering to himself, his voice strained with concentration.

I tried to focus on his words, to stay awake, but the darkness pulled me under again.