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

Chapter 17 - The, End

So she listened.

What other way was there? Sit and wait to die? Though she had wanted nothing more than to perish with the man she loved, he wouldn't allow that, and had started shouting to get the walker's attention. Said "We both gonna die if you don't run now, so go on. Get outta 'ere."

So she listened.

Pushed open that backdoor and ran out like a bat out of hell - and thankfully, too, because the back parking lot was just as full of walkers as that room Merle was in was. She could hear him shoot, too, as she ran. One, two, three shots. How many did he have again? She just kept running, refusing to hear his screams. She ran faster, faster, until she sped out of the parking lot and into the street, into the forest, into the blackness of the night. Kept going, and going, and going. She did not know the meaning of stop, and she wouldn't for as long as she could.

So she listened - for the slightest sound around her, when she finally did stop. Resting around the dead was asking for death itself, and she would not let Merle's sacrifice be in vain. One hand stabilizes her against a tree, the other supports her torso by pushing on her knee, and she struggles to catch her breath. Not a sound around her but her own haggard breath, in, and out, in, and out, wheezing, couching. When her body finally caught up, she was already on the verge of tears again. Have you ever gotten so upset you don't know what to do, and so you end up flailing, screaming, punching your pillow or the wall, pulling your hair in a fit of rage? It's not attractive, it's noisy, and it does nothing to sooth the pain; but that's what she did. She calms down no less than ten minutes later, but she isn't okay. She caused his death.

What she did, killed Merle.

She had just wanted to help him. The group, the important members anyway, had all gone out to meet the Governor. Quinn knew it was a bad idea, so did Merle, but they wouldn't listen. None of them would. Merle, however, in that bright way he had, came up with an idea, a plan.

So she listened.

It was simple, he'd distract them, she'd take a gun, and force them to let her, and her beloved, leave. They'd go out, slit that one eyed prick's throat, save Daryl, and wait for this whole thing to blow over - right? Sounded simple, sounded quick, so they went at it together, working hand in hand like a smooth, well oiled machine. He began arguing with Glenn, Maggie chimed in, but that boy went too far and Merle threw him, and himself, down the stairs in a fit of rage. This wasn't exactly the distraction they needed, but she took her chance nonetheless and grabbed the AK47 - a gift from a friend, Rick had said earlier - and pointed it at Maggie and Glenn.

"Let him go, you pieces'a shit." She stutters, not quite sure how to be dominant in a situation like this. The gun trembled in her hand. Nonetheless they complied, and released Merle from their grips. He stands up, flashes to Quinn a smile that quells her worries, and grabs the gun from her, pointing it lazily at the people still there. 

"Now that we got this all figured out, we's gonna go ahead and crash that lil' party they got goin' up there, an' get my lil' brother, an' nip this in th' bud right here."

She sucks in another breath, standing up from her bent over, pained position, and lets out a solid whine. Nothing went according to plan after that.  It had gotten them here, it had gotten him killed, it had gotten them seperated, it had gotten her singled out and alone in the middle of the woods. Quinn dusts off her shirt, and continues walking forward. Hopefully, hopefully she could do this on her own. Merle had taught her some things, how to find water, what to hunt, what berries to eat and what not to wipe your ass with, but at the moment she couldn't remember a single thing.

If only she had listened.

Merle had figured he was going to die. Despite his good aim and the amount of bullets he still had, he knew it wouldn't even impact the amount of walkers pouring into that room, clamoring and hissing after him. He had fired his last shot, closed his eyes, and held the gun against his chest. Maybe it wouldn't hurt. Maybe he'd pass out.

A shot that shattered through the room made his eyes fly back open, and one by one he saw the abominations drop to the floor, piles of rotted flesh. He was confused, scared, and held his gun tighter. This didn't make sense, he couldn't understand -

Daryl's face poked in from above the last standing walker, until that too fell, a bolt sticking out of it's skull. He's far too happy to see his big brother, and he lowers his cross bow. "See? We came back for 'ya. I told you we did." Rick and Hershel came in from behind him, both peering into the room to make out the damage. Merle's expression, however, did not soften. He was not happy like Daryl was, which warranted a "Bro, was' wrong?"

With a life and power he had not been capable of just minutes ago, Merle pushes himself up off the ground and through the door, the back door, where he screams out her name.