The Walking Dead - Dixon Bloodfall (A Walking Dead ff)

Chapter Three - The Suicide King

      The day truly took a turn for the worst when the Georgia sun faded into black night. She had long since left her friend's game of baseball, or rather, the poorest excuse for one, and had taken recluse back on her porch. Quinn favored people watching above conversing with actual people, and stayed there until the sky was a dark, swallowing black. The entire town was gone by then, but they had been brought somewhere specficially. She watched as man after man, friends of Merle's, no less, said something to each citizen. Whatever it was, it prompted them to follow them until they were out of sight.

She had to follow. Whatever this was, whatever was going on, something was eating away at her insides, a combination of fear, guilt, and anxiety. Merle had to have something to do with this. Quinn was no more than ten feet away from her house when she saw a man, obviously spanish, tall, and well built, laughing with a few more other men. They looked like thugs, something out of a low grade indie film, so stereotypical and one dimensional. She froze, and they walked, and thus began a careful tango between the two, as when they turned or stop, she ran and hid, and when they resumed their walk, she continued her's. Eventually she came to it, the once empty backlot that now held the entire town.

   It was loud and dizzying, the haziness of dirt being kicked up into the poorly lit arena. The noise of the crowd, screaming and roaring with untamable righteous blood lust was bearing down on her heavy. She knew in her gut what this battle held, whom this battle held, and it took every ounce of self control to stand there calmly. She was buried behind the first row of people, the makeshift perimeter of the wicked fight club, and was awaiting the reveal of the two fighters. Rumor had gone around the circle as she entered it, his name being whispered like a taboo, as if the name Merle could invoke the devil. It was shock at first, but the disturbance faded and people forgot that it was one of their own fighting and just looked forward to a fight. It was scary that in the daytime they could look like normal people trying to rebuild society and then at night, want nothing more than bloody combat.

 The crowd quieted just slightly when the Governor sauntered out into the center. His expression was unreadable, but if she had to guess, he might have been proud of his choice tonight. She never knew him personally, that was Merle’s job, but she had spent a lot of time around him. They talked several times and from what she saw he was a competent leader, charming even. The tides had obviously changed. She vaguely remembered him calling her sweetheart once or twice in the times they spoke. He seemed to thrive off of the heated cries now, though, as the crowd demanded death, demanded Merle’s death.

 “You wanted your brother.” He began, a single eye narrowed down at Merle’s confused, angry face. She was confused too, as she hid amongst people. The Governor had two eyes for as long as she could remember, and yet now, he boasted an eyepatch. “Now you got ‘em.”

The crowd roared and cheered again, taking sickening delight in the torment of the situation. She saw Andrea there, moving through the crowd to talk to him. From the looks of it, she’s trying to stop the situation. Quinn wasn’t naive. The crowded wanted blood, and tonight, they’d get it. It was out of his hands now.

So it began, the unofficial ringing of the bell. When the hood was ripped away, Daryl was not what she had expected. He was smaller than Merle, younger too, with a leaner and shorter frame. He almost looked guilty, and it was more than clear he didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want to run either. He just stood there, completely unaware of what to do. Then he backed away from Merle who in a thunderous voice, began speaking. Quinn watched in disturbed awe, listening intently. Her throat felt like a desert.

"Ya’all know me." He suddenly delivered a swift punch to his younger's stomach, sending him spiraling to the dusty earth. Quinn winced. “I’m gonna do whatever I have to.” Daryl groaned and held his stomach as Merle continued his speech. Quinn flinched with every forceful kick to Daryl's midsection, the noise of the pleased crowd making the contact so much louder. “To prove that my loyalty is to this town.” She turned to her left in a desperate attempt to look away in time to see a restrained Andrea plead with the architect of the vicious deathmatch himself again, still to no avail. She turned back when Merle had stopped talking, only because Daryl had his hands wringing his throat. Quinn couldn't help it, the physical response was instinct. Full throttle she ran at them, all rational thought having left her mind. Somebody grabbed her arm forcefully and though she kicked and fought, desperate to help her friend, she remained in place, just feet away from him. The walkers were pushed closer and closer to them, held in place by the guards that once protected her.

“Merle!” She shouted, her voice lost amongst the violent sound. The grip got tighter around her arm as she continued her fighting. Then they rose up, Merle pulling up Daryl, then spinning quickly till they were back to back. She realized they were fighting together. Quinn hastily slammed her heel into the groin of her oppressor and like a key opening a lock, the hand on her arm and the strength behind it vanished. She was there with them now, a few feet away, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and anger. She had no weapons and little knowledge on fighting, especially against the Walkers that were brought out to subdue the brothers. The back to back duo became a triangular trio as she mimicked their stance and stood by them, ready to die fighting like they were. The crowd seemed to only get louder as the Walkers got closer, and for a moment, Quinn felt peace. She would die side by side with the man who saved her life and that would be just fine.

 A single shot rang out and the crowd went silent. Then another, and another, then more rapid shots. The crowd went running as a little cylinder rolled into view. It exploded into smoke, wafting and mixing with the kicked up dirt. She couldn’t see anymore and instantly grabbed for Merle, but he wasn’t there. Quinn was panicking and it was more than clear the others were too, as the crowd ran screaming past. In the chaos of the blind night, somebody pushed into her and she slammed into the ground. A swift kick to the face, an act of fearful trampling from the frightened crowd, sent her into wavering consciousness. She reached out to a figure, black and hobbling towards her, as the familiar sound of a Walker's snarl reached her ears. Blood dripped into her eyes and within a moment, she accepted her fate and closed them.

His name would be the last thing she spoke as she drifted into darkness.