[ season 2 ]
✰ in which every corner of the world becomes the world's most loneliest corner, but the girl tucked away on her family's farm would bet all the money in her pockets that hers is the loneliest.
and the guy who meets her up there, bringi...
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CHAPTER ELEVEN ➶ SHANE WALSH
A BEAD of sweat makes its way down my nose and my ears are ringing in the quiet, sterile room we stand in. every sense of mine is heightened, my muscles tensing at every little sound.
the plastic bag filled with the only vials i could properly identify, morphine, crinkles under the curl of my fist.
"raise 'em just like that." his distinct, raspy voice irritates me more than i remember. either that or it's because his pistol is pointed right at my face now, the barrel resting on the length of a silver knife that's strapped to what used to be his hand.
"where you been hidin' out, dixon?" i stand face-to-face with merle dixon for the first time in four months since we lost sight of him back in atlanta. meanwhile, two of the men he's with pat me down at the ankles.
merle cracks a smile, drags a laugh out from his chest you wouldn't want to hear from a man who's holding a gun, and says, "just a place as sweet as home."
"i bet. i see you made it out of the city, only left behind a couple of things." my eyes drop to the metal contraption on his right hand, straps with buckles going as far up as his elbow, ending in a flat sling with a knife attached.
his brows furrow the tiniest bit.
"we went back for you, to that roof." i nod, feeling the presence of another gun pointed at me somewhere off to my side, but i don't bother looking. "went the next day. daryl came with."
merle grins, "what ever happened to my baby brother, do you know? did he finally leave your group like he and i were s'posed to?"
"nah, he stayed."
i see it in merle's face, only for a second, hope—that maybe someone he cares about is still alive, hearing that i might possibly know daryl's whereabouts.
daryl might be the only person merle cares for, and even so, he's doesn't show it very well. our group at the quarry four months ago, we only knew the dixon's just as long as everybody else, but it was long enough to feel them out, decide they weren't the best company to keep once the world all but ended.
but now my niece has gone ahead and declared daryl dixon a good man in her eyes, gotten herself attached to his hip. i wouldn't want something bad to happen to daryl, even though sometimes i want to punch him in the face if it'll make him shut up. and indiana's my brother's daughter, so in the end, i have to look out for them.
"he still alive?" there's a cool indifference to merle's tone just in case i respond with bad news. but he has his gun pointed at me, his two buddies too, so i hold off just a bit longer—make him squirm.
"what're you doin' here?" i change the subject, glance around at the plain hospital supply room we stand in.
"saw you drivin' up 85, figured we'd give it a shot since you don't see many cars nowadays; red trucks especially." says the man who's holding his pistol to the side of my head. his hair is just as dark as mine but a whole lot shorter.
