The Third Dixon [The walking dead]

Chapter nine

Nathan sat with his back against the car, the metal still warm from the engine, legs stretched out in front of him. His shoulder throbbed in a dull, steady rhythm, but it was manageable. He'd had worse. Glenn sat a few feet away, knees drawn up, flexing his hands like he was reminding himself they still worked.

They'd done what they could with a half-empty bottle of water—rinsed blood from their faces, wiped grime from their arms. Nathan's busted lip had swollen and split again, a dark line cutting across it, but otherwise they looked almost normal. Almost.

Michonne stood apart from them, silent, watchful, sword resting lightly in her grip. She hadn't moved much since they'd stopped.

Then voices carried through the trees.

"Glenn!"

Glenn was on his feet instantly. "Rick. Rick!"

Nathan pushed himself up, heart kicking harder. "Rick."

Maggie broke into a run, breath hitching as she reached Glenn, hands gripping his arms like she needed to feel solid proof he was real. "Oh, thank God."

Relief barely had time to settle before it shattered.

Rick slowed, eyes hardening as he stepped aside.

"Now we got a problem here," he said, lifting his gun. "I need you to back up."

Nathan followed Rick's line of sight—and felt his stomach drop.

Merle Dixon stood there, smirking, filthy, alive.

Every weapon came up at once.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Glenn snapped.

The air went tight, stretched thin enough to snap.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Rick barked.

Daryl stepped forward fast. "Hey! Put it down!"

Merle lifted his good hand in mock surrender. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Look who's grown balls."

"Put it down!" Rick shouted again.

"He tried to kill me!" Michonne said, blade angling toward Merle's throat.

Nathan took a step forward despite the ache in his shoulder. "If it wasn't for him—"

"He helped us get out of there," Daryl cut in.

Nathan let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "Yeah? Right after he beat the shit outta us."

Merle grinned. "Hey, we both took our licks, man."

"Jackass," Daryl muttered.

"Hey, shut up."

"Enough!" Rick roared. "Hey—hey—relax!" He turned sharply to Michonne. "Put that down. Now."

Daryl moved in front of Nathan's raised gun without even looking back. "Get that thing outta my face!"

Merle's eyes dragged over Daryl, slow and assessing. "Man, look like you've gone native, brother."

"No more than you hanging out with that psycho back there," Daryl shot back.

Merle laughed. "Oh yeah. He's a charmer, I gotta tell ya." His gaze slid to Michonne. "Been putting the wood to your girlfriend Andrea. Big time, baby."

Glenn's head snapped up. "What? Andrea's in Woodbury?"

Daryl stiffened. "Right next to the Governor."

Rick noticed Michonne's sword lifting again. "I told you to drop that!"

He turned to her, voice urgent. "You know Andrea?" She didn't answer. "Do you know Andrea?"