In The End | Daryl Dixon

Chapter 7

"Like a game of chess, I predict your move."

Erica

Weeks turned into months, and Merle and I hadn't spoken much. We met up a few times to try and talk about a course of action, but someone seemed to interrupt us every time. Then again, neither of us really knew what we were meant to do in the first place. Between the information we'd been given by Castiel and the fact that we were struggling to keep ourselves and everyone else fed, there wasn't much time to try and hash things out. Even if we did get a chance to speak, neither of us had a clue how to proceed. There really wasn't a good place to start.

On the other hand, Castiel had finally found my brothers. They were states away from where I was, and I wasn't willing to leave the group I'd grown so attached to behind to die. Dean, in contrast, was unwilling to leave the Impala. I couldn't say I blamed him. The day he abandoned that car was the day hell froze over. It was also the day I smashed his damn brain in. That car was a blessing, and I'd kill him before he even got the chance to try leaving it to be found by some random survivor.

According to Castiel, I needed to scream if I wished to contact him. The chatter on angel radio was apparently so loud that he could barely find my voice at times. I wasn't about to shriek for the angel at the top of my lungs, though. No, I reserved that for emergencies. I may be bonkers, but I don't need everyone in camp knowing that, and I certainly don't need the resident Christians thinking I'm one of them.

I'd grown closer to the kids in camp, further proof that I am indeed a child at heart. Carl, Sophia and I were the troublesome trio, as Lori dared to call us. We ran around wreaking havoc whenever it was warranted. Me and my ride or die crew also got closer; although, I still didn't try and tell them I hunted monsters for a living. Somehow I didn't feel like the news would go over so well. I'm really not sure how I managed to dodge all T-dog's questions pertaining to Castiel's sudden appearances. 

"Merle, just because you're throwing yourself a pity party over the fact that your face looks like a shriveled prune doesn't mean you have to be a downer to the rest of us. Or an asshole." I scoffed. The idiot had gotten himself cuffed to a roof while I was off looting the lower levels of the store. It was clear to me that he was intoxicated, and I felt a little bad. This can't be easy for him. He may be a shitbag, but knowing the people inside the walkers can feel everything that happens to them, and see everything being done.... it's been hard, even for me.

"Now, there ain't no reason to hurt ole Merle's feelin's, darlin!" Merle snickered a little. "We're friends, ain't we? Just pop the lock on these cuffs." 

"I will soon, Merle. But you're drunk. Only you would come on a run drunk." I sighed heavily. He looked away for a moment, no doubt knowing I was right. Merle had reached some sort of breaking point, and he'd lost it completely for a moment there. I came up here just in time to watch the man we'd found, Officer Friendly, cuff him to a pipe. 

"Yer mad, woman." He shook his head at me as though I were the insane one here. While I will admit to being fairly batshit, redneck Joe over here is playing on a whole other level. Dean surely would have decked him in the face right now, hunter or not. Made that nose more crooked than it already is. I was pretty close to doing the same damn thing, too.

"Anybody out there?" T-dog spoke into the walkie talkie, desperate to get a signal. "Hello? Anybody read? I'm hoping to hear someone else's voice, 'cause I'm getting sick and tired of hearing mine."

I snorted. That's such a T-dog thing to say. "Yeah, well that makes two of us." Merle spoke. I scoffed.

"Yes? Hello? I exist." I waved my hand about. T-dog elbowed me lightly, and I elbowed him back. As much as I'd wanted to go with Officer Friendly, I didn't want T to be stuck up here with Merle alone, and vise versa. Merle started pining for T-dog, trying to convince the man to unlock his cuffs. I guess he's smart enough to know I'm not gonna do jack shit to help him right now. Shocking. I didn't think he had that much sense.

"Merle, nobody is going to give you a damn hacksaw. Nobody with any working braincells, anyway. Just wait a little bit and we'll unhook you once you've calmed down." I shook my head. He's just gonna lunge for T-dog again. You can see it in his eyes. He's still pissed, and isn't at all happy about losing control over the situation. I sighed. Glenn and I were right. Bringing a group out here was a horrible idea.

"Yeah, you're just gonna beat my ass again. Call me nigger some more." T-dog shook his head. I grimaced. I've always hated that word. Race doesn't matter. Especially not now. There's the living, and then there's the dead. That's that. They don't care who's black, who's white. Doesn't matter if your Hispanic, or Asian. They'll still rip you open.

"Come on, now. It wasn't personal. It's just that your kind and my kind ain't meant to mix." Merle said simply. I stared at him blankly before turning to look at T-dog, my eyebrows raised. He raised his back, and I could tell we were thinking the same thing.

This guy is one dumb fucker.

"That's all." Merle tried to add when he saw the glance we were sharing. "It don't mean we can't... work together, parley. As long as there's some kind of mutual gain involved." Merle sucks at negotiating, and that's coming from me. One of the least convincing people on this planet. "Erica? Come on, woman. We're friends!"

"I'm glad you think so, Merle. I promise we're not going to leave you up here, alright? Sober up a little. I can still see how much you want to strangle T-dog." I said. "And it isn't all about mutual gain. Try doing something out of the goodness of your own heart for once, man."

"If he even has one." T-dog muttered. I held out my fist, and he bumped his against it. That was a good one. 

"So.... about that hacksaw--" This idiot.

"I guess you want me to get that rifle over there so you can shoot that cop when he comes back up, huh?" T-dog is on fire today. There aren't enough fist bumps in the world for this man. 

The others came crowding back onto the roof all of a sudden. I could tell by the looks on their faces that they hadn't found a solid way out. I found myself scowling as I stood up, my eyes meeting Glenn's. He shook his head, confirming my suspicions. I wonder if Cas would answer if I tried to pray now. If worse comes to worse, I'll scream for him and hope he gets here in time to save us all from imminent death.

Thunder rumbled overhead as we gazed around in search of a way out of this building without getting ourselves slaughtered in the process. "That construction site, those trucks— they always keep keys on hand." Officer Friendly said. His name is actually Rick Grimes, but I like his chosen alias far better. 

"You'll never make it past the walkers." Morales took the binoculars. 

"You got me out of that tank." Rick said to Glenn, referring to the Korean man's epic save. He's going to be bragging about that for weeks. I don't blame him. I'll be giving him five anytime he brings it up. For a pizza guy, he's resourceful and smart as hell. 

"Yeah, but they were distracted. Feeding." Glenn shook his head. 

"Can we distract them again?" Rick's eyes swept over us. I pursed my lips. Merle began to agree with him. A distraction could work. Jacqui was quick to shut him down, though. I really can't blame her for that. Merle wants to get out of here just as much as we do. If we aren't getting out, neither is he. He knows that. But at this point we're just grasping at straws. We need a plan that has more than a 15% chance of succeeding. 

"They're drawn by sound, right?" Rick questioned.

"Like dogs. They hear sound, they come. Smell too. If they see you, they catch you, and eat you." I said. And here I am telling Merle not to be a downer. Not that I'm punching people in the face and trying to take over our little parade of survivors while drunk off my ass.

"They can tell us by smell?" Rick looked completely bewildered.

"Can't you?" Glenn's eyebrows shot up.

"They smell dead. We don't. It's pretty distinct." Andrea agreed, arms folded nervously over her chest. I looked up, my eyes meeting those of Officer Friendly's. Something clicked in my head, and it seemed to click in his as well. Both of us grimaced. Somehow, I know this isn't going to end well. But then again, we don't have much of a choice.

[Song: I Just Wanna Run by The Downtown Fiction]