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

Chapter Six - Stop by The Bridge

She decided to remain in the road, far from the car, when Merle went back to finish what Rick had started. From where she was sitting, it seemed to be over quick. Merle gestured to Rick, then Daryl, who had lowered his eyes to the ground and said something to Rick. Rick seemed irate, then Daryl turned, and Merle wrapped his good arm around his shoulder and laughed.

 The brothers kept up ahead of her at a pretty fast speed, leaving Quinn not too far behind to dwell on her own thoughts. She never knew Rick’s group or the people in them, but Glenn did not look like a liar. Merle had gotten rough with others before, fought off walkers and brought himself and others to the brink of death with how violent he can be, but why would he lie about it? He was always so proud, he told her “war stories” almost all the time. Glenn didn’t look like a liar, but Merle was her everything.  

 She could tell that Daryl wasn't alright. He seemed off, but relatively calm. The situation earlier had obviously not gone in his favor, and this upset Quinn greatly. Merle had nothing but the kindest, sweetest things to say about Daryl, and coming from him that was something very out of character. Over the course of their friendship she gathered Merle regretted a lot in his life, but the thing he regretted most was not being there for his brother. She never asked, but a few shots of alcohol would let loose a waterfall of guilt, regrets, and secrets he would otherwise never tell.

“Daryl.” She called out, freezing both brothers in their tracks. Two sets of eyes looked at her, one friendly and one indifferently curious. She motioned for the latter to approach her and he nodded, giving Merle a confused look before approaching.

 “Yeah?” He asked, looking her over. She did the same.

“Has Merle, uh, said anything about me?” Daryl shook his head. “So you don’t know who I am?” He shook his head again. In a quiet voice he asked her name. “Quinn.” She answered, looking at him curiously.

“Anythin’ bout me.” He asked, though his voice had a tone of flatness to it so she doubted he cared or not, just asking out of politeness.

 “You’re the sweet baby brother.” She said with a smile. He scrunched up his nose. "But I have to say, you don't look so sweet with that crossbow." Trying to be friendly, she expected at the least a smile but his expression remained wary. Don’t like to beat around the bush, do we? "No, Merle talks a lot about you. Good things." She could see a vague sparkle in his eyes, one of relieved elation, but still his poker face remained impeccable. That was enough for her and she looked away, a soft smile spread upon her lips.

 "C'mon you two, we need'ta make ground before nightfall." Merle called from far off. He waved both arms at them and turned. The pair quickly jogged up to catch up when the sound of water, distant but audible, hit their ears.

“Smells to me like the Sawhatchee Creek." Merle mused, peaking over the green shrubbery that surrounded them. Quinn followed closely as she pondered his wilderness skills. He always knew little tricks and could tell when there was a water source or food nearby, and while she tried and tried to make those skills her own she could never seem to adapt them.

"Nah, we didn't go west enough." Daryl said. "If there's a river down there, it's gotta be the Yellow Jacket." He was so soft spoken, Quinn noted curiously. Odd that he was related to Merle of all people.

 "You have a stroke boy?" Merle snorted. “We ain’t never even come close to Yellow Jacket.”

“We didn’t go west, but it’s a little bit south. That’s what I think.” Daryl’s voice seemed a bit edgy. Maybe Merle was setting him off. She waited till they got a few more steps ahead of her in case of another Merle-related blowout.

 “You know what I think? I may have lost my hand, but you’ve lost your sense of direction.”

 “Yeah, we’ll see.” Daryl’s voice was showing more and more of his anger.

 “What, you wanna bet?” Merle sounded playful enough. Quinn nervously followed.

 “I don’t wanna bet nothin’. Just a body’a water. Why’s everythin’ gotta be a competition with you?”

 “Whoa, take it easy little brother. Just trying to have a little fun here. No need to get your panties all in a bundle.” Merle shot a glance at Quinn and she shrugged, playing ignorant. If Merle couldn’t read his own brother then maybe he wasn’t being an ass on purpose.

 “You guys hear that?” Quinn looked around. Daryl turned to her, then back, twisting his neck as he peered around.

 “Yeah? Wild animals gettin’ wild.” Merle scoffed.

 “Nah, that’s a baby.” Daryl started walking ahead faster now. Merle slowed down until Quinn was at his side.

 “Oh c’mon, why don’t you just piss in my ear n’ tell me it’s rainin’ too? That there’s the sound of a couple’a coons makin’ love sweet love, know what I mean?” Merle flicked out his tongue again, warranting a playful shove from Quinn as she joined him laughing. They followed Daryl out of the thick brush and saw it, a bridge fairly close by with at least two dozen walkers on it, clamoring after two living snacks. A baby’s wail filled the air, coupled with gunshots and the shouting in Spanish. Quinn didn’t give it a second thought and started up the muddy hill, soon after joined by Daryl. She turned to glare at Merle for a moment when she didn't hear a third set of footsteps behind her.

 “What? I ain’t wasting my bullets on a couple of strangers that ain’t never cooked me a meal or facilitated my piece.” Merle finally, although reluctantly trailed after them. “That’s my policy. You’d be wise to adopt it girly!”