In The End | Daryl Dixon

Chapter 12

"Where did you go?"

Erica

The ride into the city was the definition of awkward. Daryl seemed embarrassed about accusing me of sleeping with the likes of his brother. Or maybe he just doesn't believe be when I say I wouldn't touch Merle's man bits with a ten foot pole. He can choose to believe what he wants. At least Glenn and T both seem to be on my side about the ordeal. Rick, on the other hand, doesn't seem to have an opinion. He's the Switzerland of our little platoon.

Tensions were high, but I managed to relax anyway. I'd been in more stressful situations than this before. Like being in hell. That made one tense. I'm actually pretty sure I got eaten alive once, literally, in there. I'm not too sure once. It's all a blur, and I'm pretty sure that was an accident. Not that I should've had to pay for the fact that Crowley forgot to feed his damn hell hounds.

We weren't exactly driving into the city, if you wanted to get technical. We weren't outside it, but we didn't dare try to drive into the thick of it either. Instead, we parked in the same place we always entered when we came on runs. It was behind an old fence, by some train tracks. Tracks that, now, had virtually no use. 

"He better be okay." Daryl said, more to T than to anyone else. "That's all I've got to say on th' matter."

"I told you, the geeks can't get at him. Only thing that's gonna get through that door... is us." T-dog said confidently. I didn't doubt the man. If he really did padlock the door shut, he's right when he says not enough of the dead would be able to pile into that part of the stairway and break free. The space, as I remember it, is fairly narrow.

"That old fart is fine." I scoffed as we came to a stop, Glenn putting the van in park. Poor kid was already sweating, and we weren't even in much of any danger yet. "He's a piece of shit, but maybe that's what makes him so tough. He's like the asshole version of James Bond. He just won't die!" I threw my hands up, wondering what would happen if Merle really was dead. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me all that much if he were to climb his way right out of the pits of hell.

"Don' talk about my brother that way." Daryl snapped.

"Come on, we both know it's true." I grinned. He glared.

"Cool it, guys. We walk from here. We should get a move on if we don't want to lose daylight." Glenn said, twisting around to look at us. I offered a two finger salute. I had a bad feeling about this. Somehow, someway, something would go wrong. Something that would probably send my temper flying through the roof, which nobody really wanted to see happen.

We climbed out of the truck, Daryl with his crossbow slung over his back, and me with my hand on my machete hilt. I let my eyes scan the area almost out of reflex. I guess doing something over and over again does that to you. I snorted a little, eyes flicking to Daryl, who was scowling. Looks like he's about as happy about having to go into the city as we are.

We were silent as we jogged to the hole Glenn and I had made in the fence on our second run or so. After realizing how much of a pain climbing was, we'd borrowed Dale's bolt cutters without his permission. It wasn't technically stealing, even if we did lose them. But we replaced them, so it's fine. Sort of. I think he's still sour about it, but even so, he let us take the new ones we scavenged with us. 

"Merle first, or guns?" Rick asked. 

"Merle! We ain't even havin' this conversation!" Daryl denied immediately. Can't say I blame him. Guns over family? No way in hell. Even I wouldn't go for it.

"We are." Rick responded, tone just as fiery. 

"Now, now, ladies. This isn't a dick measuring contest." I looked between them. "We get whatever's first. We don't want to loop back for something. We need this to go as quickly and smoothly as possible, and maybe none of us will die." I have got to be the most encouraging person I know.

"You two know the geography. It's yo ur call." Rick said to Glenn and I as we began walking towards where Merle and the guns lay. 

"Merle's closest. The guns would mean doubling back." Glenn said.

"Merle first." I agreed. 

We jogged into town, taking down a few walkers as we went. Most of them seemed to have moved on, which I was thankful for. The mission impossible theme played on my head on repeat as we went, and sometimes I found myself bickering with Daryl. He'd say something about how we were pieces of shit for leaving his brother, and I'd retort by telling him it takes on to know one. 

We were in the building before I knew it. I was slicing and dicing so fast it felt like I was on one of those fancy cooking shows where the chefs can slice things mid air. I felt Gordon Ramsey would have been proud if he could see my precision. I also had to wonder, as I charged up the stairs with Rick, Daryl, and my two camping buddies, what Sam and Dean were doing, and if they were safe.

When we got to the top of the building, I tugged on the chain. The door was most definitely dented, and a little worse for ware, but as promised, the lock had held strong. I could almost feel Daryl's relief as I pulled the metal back for T to cut. The man wasted no time, and I ripped the chain off.

Daryl, for some reason, felt the need to kick the door open. 

"Merle!" We both shouted as we filed onto the roof. We got no reply, and soon it became apparent why that was. I felt my heart almost stop when I saw the puddle of blood. Even more so when I saw what was lying in it.

A hand. Clearly Merle's.

Glenn turned away, but I only groaned and threw my head back. "Really?!" I consulted the sky for answers. "Why couldn't he have just broken his thumb?!"

[Song: Cotton Eye Joe by Rednex]