CHAPTER 12
An exhausted Daryl struggled again with the weight of Merle's corpse wrapped in blankets and ropes, so he knelt down on both knees and gently laid his brother down on the prison's garage's cold floor. Daryl then sat down, and resting his forearm atop his knee, closed his eyes and panted slowly for air.
Carol, with Daryl's Stryker Strykezone 380 crossbow slung over her shoulder, walked over to his side and watched him sympathetically.
After a few moments, Daryl caught enough of his breath to unsheathe his Busse Team Gemini knife.
"What are you doing?" Carol asked.
Daryl looked up at Carol and then he looked at Merle's corpse. "I'm goin' to cut Merle loose," he explained.
"Merle can wait for a while," Carol said gently.
"No!" Daryl shouted as he gestured with his knife at Merle's corpse. "I let Merle run off and get killed by that one-eyed bastard! I ain't leavin' him like this! I'm puttin' a fresh blanket over him, and I'm goin' to bury him right!"
Daryl, his tantrum over, dropped his arm and his knife hit the floor with a clang. He then lowered his head in exhaustion and grief. Carol still watched him, her expression still sympathetic.
The minutes passed and when Daryl finally regained his strength, he picked up his knife and leaned over to cut the first rope that secured the blankets around Merle's corpse.
"Merle can wait for a while," Carol repeated in the same gentle tone.
Daryl lowered his knife and looked over his shoulder at Carol.
"When I said I was going with you to bring Merle back, you warned me that there was no telling what we'd run into. Well, we ran into a gang, a herd, and we barely survived both. I'm hungry and tired and I'll bet you are too. So you can get something to eat and rest, or you can wrap Merle in a new blanket and bury him. But if you do the latter, I'll probably have to dig a grave for you too. So what's your decision?"
Daryl kept looking at Carol, and then he looked at Merle's corpse, a few moments later he hung his head in defeat and sheathed his knife. When Daryl looked up at Carol again, she was smiling softly and was offering him a hand; Daryl took hold of it, and she helped him to his feet. Carol then unslung Daryl's crossbow off her shoulder and offered it to him, he took it, nodded his thanks, and the two of them walked out of the prison's garage.
•••
Rick was driving the Jeep Cherokee towards the prison's shattered gate when he saw a scuffle developing to his right. As he slowed down, he realized it was five Woodburians, led by John, and they were armed with axes, brush hooks, and shovels. They were charging a small group of walkers who had staggered out of the woods.
"The gunfire drew them here," Sasha said shamefully.
"It couldn't be helped," Rick said as he resumed looking straight ahead.
Sasha watched as the Woodburians stabbed or struck the walkers, the blows knocking them to the ground and the ones that weren't killed instantly were bludgeoned until their heads shattered like watermelons. "Maybe…maybe we could've thought of another way to deal with the walkers in the field," she pondered.
"Taking those walkers hand-to-hand would've been too dangerous. Those guns were our best and only option," Rick explained.
Sasha glanced at Rick and watched as John and his group wiped their weapons clean to the rags the walkers wore. She noticed that one of the Woodburians was the gruff carpenter Eddie Nowak. "Tyreese says I've changed," she said.
Rick kept his eyes on the road but he shrugged. "Well, I think the same can be said for all of us."
"No," Sasha said as she looked at Rick again. "Tyreese was really angry at me. He said all I do these days is carry a gun around and stay quiet. I can't say he's exaggerating. My conversation with Maggie and Glenn this morning was the first one that last more than ten seconds. I have changed, and maybe for the worse."
Rick smiled. "Remember the first time I met you and your brother? I was shouting like a madman and then I chased you both out of the prison at gunpoint. Are you sure I'm the right guy to talk to about this?"
Sasha looked at the AR-15 rifle in her hands, opened her fingers, and closed them again. "I'm serious, Rick. I mean, last year I was a model, now I'm shooting monsters like I'm in a video game. Am I losing my mind? Am I going to kill a living person one day?"
Rick glanced at Sasha again. "I understand how you feel. When I was a cop, the thing I was most scared of was getting into a gunfight. In fact, the day I was shot was the first time I fired my gun in the line of duty."
Rick looked at the shattered gate; Karen saw them coming towards her and she lowered her M4A1 rifle. "It's okay to be scared," he told Sasha. "Being scared reminds you that you're human. But if you have to pull a trigger to stay alive, then that's what you do." Rick them eased his foot on the break, and the jeep came to a stop. "Killing someone in self-defense is justifiable, but killing someone who's unarmed or defenseless, that's cold blooded murder."
Karen slung the M4A1 over her shoulder and walked towards the driver's side window. "Did you find a clearing, Rick?" she asked.
"Yes," Rick nodded, "and it was Sasha who found it."'
"Really?"
"Yeah," Sasha said. "It's behind the prison. Our group rested there while Tyreese scouted ahead. If only we had gotten inside the prison faster, Donna would've…" the young woman closed her eyes and remembered the kind, frightened woman who was bitten by a walker when she was just yards away from safety.
"Allen told me about Donna, and how good you were to her and their son Ben. I'm sorry they're both dead," Karen said.
"Thank you," Sasha said.
Karen looked at Rick. "So when can we take the first batch of dead out to be burned?"
"Right now," Rick answered. "Sasha said she'd lead a group to the clearing. I need to check up on Carl and Judith. I might also see if we have enough food left to give everyone a lunch break."
"You've got some other people to check on, Rick," Glenn called out as he and Maggie walked over to the jeep.
Rick opened the driver's side door, and Karen stepped back so he could step out. "Is it Daryl and Carol?" he asked as he closed the door.
"Yeah, only they're in no mood to talk, at least Daryl isn't."
"What do you mean?"
"Daryl and Carol came back a while ago—"
"In a different car," Maggie interrupted.
Rick looked back at Sasha, who was climbing out of the passenger side while holding her AR-15 rifle by its barrel. "A different car?" he asked when he looked back at Glenn and Maggie.
"Yeah. A Jeep Cherokee, just like this one," Glenn answered.
"Except theirs is cleaner," Maggie added with a smirk.
"Are they all right?" Rick asked.
"They looked worn out, but they're all right," Glenn answered. "I tried to talk to Daryl, but he cut me off, and I…I don't blame him for it."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sasha asked.
Glenn blushed as he looked at Maggie, who nodded. Glenn put his hands on his hips, took a deep breath, and looked back at Rick. "This morning when Daryl told Maggie and I that he was going to bring Merle back for a burial…I…said that Merle shouldn't be buried here. I said…Merle was a killer, and he wasn't one of us."
Rick, Sasha, and even Karen grimaced at the ugliness of Glenn's confession, while Maggie looked relieved that Glenn didn't repeat the humiliating story of the Governor forcing her to take her shirt off, and bent her over a table in an attempt to force her to reveal the prison's location. Finally, Rick shook his head and looked disappointedly at the young Korean. "Glenn, what were you thinking?" he asked.
"I…I wasn't thinking. I was still angry at Merle. I'm sorry," Glenn said.
"Save the apology for Daryl," Rick suggested.
"I…I tried! But he cut me off!" Glenn wined.
"Give him some time and try again."
"Yeah, I know. I know," Glenn nodded.
"Trouble with the help, Rick?" a voice taunted.
Rick and his group turned around and saw John and the five Woodburians walking towards them, their makeshift weapons cleaned and carried loosely in their hands. "It's nothing that concerns you, John," Rick said politely.
John huffed in amusement, took his Atlanta Braves cap off, and wiped his forearm across his forehead. "Yeah, right," the Vietnam veteran said as he put his cap back on. "Merle's little brother and that mousy woman came back a while ago; we all saw him carrying Merle's body wrapped up in blankets like Dr. Frankenstein's lab experiment and talking to the Vietnamese kid."
"I'm Korean!" Glenn snapped.
John huffed again. "Whatever. I guess all that shit doesn't concern me either, does it?"
"No, it doesn't," Rick said as he glared at the Vietnam veteran.
John glanced over his shoulder at the five Woodburians, looked back at Rick, and threw his hands up dramatically. The brush hook in John's hand caught Rick's eye and he saw the blade was covered in blood and brain matter. "Well, can you at least tell me you found a spot where we can burn these rotting corpses?"
"Yeah, Rick answered with a nod. "Sasha found a spot. Did you load those corpses onto the trailer?"
"The first batch is ready to go. It'll take two trips to get rid of all the corpses," John answered.
"Good. Once the corpses from Cell Block D are taken away, we'll load up the dead walkers in the field."
"What about the walkers we just killed?" Eddie asked, as he pointed a callused thumb over his shoulder.
"The priority is clearing the dead walkers off the field. The ones you and your men just killed can stay where they are for now," Rick answered.
"Besides, if more walkers show up while we're out here, we'll only be throwing more fuel onto the fire," Maggie added.
"Then let's get started," Rick insisted. "John, get that truck rolling, Eddie you and your men will unload the corpses. Glenn and Maggie, get some rifles and cover them. Sasha, lead them to the clearing. Karen, keep guarding the gate. I need to go inside Cell Block D for a bit."
The Woodburians nodded or muttered in agreement, but John gave a mock salute. Rick caught the gesture, but decided it was best to say nothing about it.
•••
Daryl and Carol sat at one of the tables in the common room, eating hot oatmeal greedily. Carl, Hershel, and Beth sat at the table beside them, watching as they ate.
"You both were in a gunfight?" Carl asked wide-eyed as he leaned forward in his chair.
"Carl," Hershel admonished the awestruck boy.
Daryl wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and glared at Carl. "Goddammit kid, can I eat my oatmeal in peace?!"
Carl went pale with fright and sat back in his chair, signaling he'd ask no more questions. To his left, Beth trembled as she clasped the collar of her jacket.
"Daryl," Hershel admonished the redneck in the same stern tone as before.
"What? Did I forget to say Grace before I ate?"
Hershel didn't respond, but he gave Daryl a look that a kind father would give to a prodigal son.
Daryl looked down at his bowl of oatmeal, scooped up a spoonful, and swallowed it. The redneck felt a foot kick him lightly on the shin; he looked up and saw Carol, sitting across the table from him, looking at him in disapproval. Daryl lowered his head again and sighed. "Sorry," he muttered. "We barely got out of there. I'm glad we're back." Daryl glanced bashfully at Carol. "I'm glad we're all right."
Carol blushed, looked down at her bowl of oatmeal, and picked at it with her spoon.
The vestibule door creaked open, and the common room's occupants watched as Rick walked inside. Suddenly, the anger and grief Daryl felt over Merle's death returned and he dropped his spoon in the empty bowl and he balled his fists. Across the table, Carol's eyes widened at Daryl's reaction to Rick's presence, and she leaned forward slightly. "Daryl," she whispered pleadingly.
Daryl looked at Carol, and saw the worried expression on her face. He huffed, but relaxed his fists. Carol smiled appreciatively.
"Daryl. Carol. It's good to see you both are back," Rick said as he approached their table.
"Thanks, Rick," Carol said.
Daryl glared at Rick, and said nothing.
"They were in a gunfight," Carl said as he looked up at his father.
Rick stopped in his tacks and looked down at Carl. "What?" he asked in disbelief.
Hershel sighed wearily and braced himself for the excited questions and reluctant answers to start again.
Carol glanced at Daryl and looked at Rick. She continued picking at her oatmeal as she nervously tried to best explain the gunfight. "Uh, Rick—"
"Daryl and Carol got into a gunfight with a gang," Beth said flatly.
"Beth," Hershel said sternly as he looked at his youngest daughter.
Rick glanced around at the five people in the common room. "What? How?" he babbled.
Daryl watched the rising tension in the common room and struck his fist on the table like a judge's gavel. Carol noticed his agitation and she reached over and placed her hand atop his. Daryl looked at Carol and she shook her head; he nodded and rested his hand on the table. Carol smiled.
"They were in a gunfight," Carl repeated as he pointed at Daryl and Carol.
Rick nodded at Carl. "Yeah, I heard you say—"
"What's the big deal, Dad?" Beth asked as she stood up and looked at her father. "Daryl and Carol ran into a gang, and they killed them. It's no different from killing walkers, right?"
Daryl closed his eyes and breathed angrily. Carol squeezed his hand gently to remind him she was there for him.
Hershel shook his head and raised a hand to signal a halt. "Now wait a minute, Beth. If you're twisting this incident around so you can compare it to your sister helping put down those walkers—"
Daryl opened his eyes and pulled his hand free from Carol's grasp. Carol saw that Daryl's anger was boiling again and she began to tremble.
"Excuse me," Rick interrupted. "But could someone please tell me what happened?"
"We killed a gang of Spics!" Daryl shouted at Rick.
Rick, Carl, Hershel, and Beth looked at Daryl as if a fire alarm was ringing behind him. Carol lowered her head and continued trembling. A few moments later Hershel shook his head in disproval. "Daryl, you shouldn't say—"
"What? Did I break the law?" Daryl asked as he stood up and glared at Rick. "Well, what're the charges, Officer Grimes: murder, racism, and manslaughter?" Daryl chuckled and shook his head. "It's a damn shame that an American citizen can be arrested not just for defendin' himself from a gang, but for identifyin' them to a cop! But that was where the PC winds were blowin' before this country went to shit. So what about manslaughter?" Daryl scratched his temple and shrugged. "No, I don't think manslaughter would stick to me. You know what manslaughter is, don't you Officer Grimes? That's where you kill a man without meanin' it!"
Rick lowered his head in shame as he knew Daryl was talking about his going to Merle and telling him about the Governor's deal for peace: handing over Michonne. Rick had convinced Hershel into accepting the deal and they both were able to convince Daryl, but they'd need help if they were going to get Michonne to the meeting spot which was the feed mill. Rick said he'd talk to Merle…alone.
•••
Rick went into Cell Block C and found Merle tearing open the mattresses in search of drugs. He was disgusted by the sight of a junkie looking for a fix in light of the desperate situation the group was in, but he kept his disdain in check long enough to tell Merle about the offer, and that he needed his help to do it.
Merle just glared at him, with the same disgusted expression on his face that Rick had moments earlier. "You go on. Give him that girl," Merle said. "He ain't gonna kill her you know. He's just gonna…do things to her. Probably take out one of her eyes, both of 'em most likely. You'd let that happen for a shot. You're cold as ice, Officer Friendly."
Rick went into the courtyard to scrounge for the wire that Merle suggested he'd use to bind Michonne, and that's when he saw Lori's spirit atop the catwalk, looking down at him. "You're not there. She's not there," he said, trying to ignore his wife's spirit and focus on the task at hand, but he couldn't. That's when he realized handing Michonne over to the Governor, even if he kept his word, was wrong.
But when Rick and Daryl went looking for Merle, they discovered he had already left with Michonne.
Daryl left to try and stop his brother. A few hours later, Michonne returned alone and unharmed. She said Merle had let her go and driven to the feed mill. She met Daryl on the road, and he continued on to the feed mill. For the rest of the afternoon, Rick kept watch for Daryl atop the courtyard's tower, with Dale Horvath's Remington 700 VLS rifle in his hands, while on the courtyard below, Carol nervously watched the empty road, as the walkers staggered around the prison's field. As the sun sank into the horizon, and exhausted Daryl ran out of the tree line, his crossbow clutched in his hand. Carol smiled broadly, and screamed out the redneck's name. Rick aimed down the hunting rifle's scope, and picked off one of the walker's as a distraction, while Carol—with Michonne's help—pulled back the section of fence for Daryl to slip through before the walkers could grab him. Daryl doubled over and panted heavily for air, as Carol excitedly asked if he was all right, but when Rick down to them, Darylstopped panting, stood straight, and glared at the group's leader as he spat out: "Merle's dead."
•••
Rick shook the fog of memory and looked at Daryl. The hate in his eyes was gone and replaced by weariness. Carol was standing beside him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Daryl…I'm sorry about Merle," Rick said. "I should've said that earlier. I'm sorry that I told him about the Governor's deal. I…knew what the Governor had store for Michonne, but I took the deal anyway, at least for a while. I…I was thinking about the group."
Daryl was looking at the floor, and he huffed wearily. "I should've fought harder against the deal. I should've stuck with Merle," he muttered. Daryl turned around, picked up his crossbow that was leaning against an empty chair, and slung it over his shoulder. "I'm beat," he said as he looked at Carol, nodded in gratitude, and walked into the cell block.
Carol, Rick, and the others watched Daryl walk away. Then Carol looked at Rick, and for the first time, the sheriff's deputy saw the weariness in her blue eyes, and she turned around and followed Daryl quietly.
A minute later, Rick asked, "That gang Daryl was talking about: did he and Carol kill them all?"
"They did," Hershel answered.
"Cool," Carl grinned.
Rick looked aghast at his son, while Beth shook her head. "You both sound happy that more people are dead," the young girl said angrily.
"I for one am not, Beth," Hershel said as he looked at his youngest daughter. "I'm saddened that people were killed, but they had bad intentions, and they tried to kill Daryl and Carol."
"They got what we should've given to the Governor," Carl said, as he glared coldly at Beth. The glare frightened the young woman and she looked down at her intertwined fingers.
"That's enough, Carl," Rick said sternly. The boy looked up at his father, saw the authoritative expression on his face, and looked down at the floor in shame.
"How are the three of you doing?" Rick asked.
Hershel glanced at Beth, who was now looking down at her intertwined fingers. "We're fine, Rick," the old farmer answered.
"How's Judith?" Rick asked Carl.
"She's fine," Carl answered quickly. "I heard Carol tell Hershel about the gunfight, so I put her in her crib and ran over to hear about it. I'm sorry, Dad. I—"
"Go check on her," Rick ordered.
Carl nodded, stood up, and walked towards the cell block. Rick sat in the empty chair and he sighed as if the weight of the world just fell off his shoulders. "It's been a hard day," he said as he closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"It'll all be worth it once the prison is secured," Hershel reminded the group's leader.
Rick tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and laughed lightly. "I hope so. We've already had a few walkers stumble out of the woods," Rick opened his eyes and—for a moment—looked overwhelmed. "Can you imagine winning this war against the Governor, but still losing to the walkers?"
"Let's not go down that path," Hershel advised. "Now that we've taken back the field, we need to replace the gate. How do we manage that?"
"I'm not sure," Rick admitted with a shrug.
"We need to think of something. More walkers will surely alive," Hershel said.
"Well, Henry Matheson from the Woodbury group might be able to replace the gate. In the meantime, we'll take one of the prison squad cars down to the fence and use it as a barricade."
Hershel nodded and looked at Beth who had sat back down in her chair, but was still looking down at her intertwined hands. "Rick, after we put up the new gate, we should also put up some defensive measures," the old farmer said.
Rick grinned. "Defensive measures, Hershel? Have you been studying military strategy along with the Bible?"
"I'm serious, Rick. When that new gate is constructed our lives will depend on it. We need to have some sort of barrier to defend it."
"So are you saying we need to dig a moat around the gate?"
Hershel shook his head. "Actually, I was thinking we could put up a cheval de frise."
Rick's jaw dropped. "A what?" he asked.
"A cheval de frise," Hershel smiled. "It's a log with dozens of wooden spikes."
Rick blinked in response.
"Did you ever read a book on the Civil War, Rick?" Hershel asked with a smile. "The Confederacy used them in the defenses around Vicksburg, Atlanta, and Petersburg."
"Yeah, but those logs with spikes didn't help our forefathers win the war," Rick said.
Hershel smiled again. "We don't have to worry about William Tecumseh Sherman or Ulysses S. Grant this time, just an uncountable number of unfortunate souls who'll eventually pay us a visit."
"I saw a wood shop and some lumber not long after we moved in," Rick said. "It shouldn't be hard to build those pincushions."
Hershel nodded. "I think we're doing well."
"Except for that one thing we talked about this moring: food," Rick reminded the old farmer. "We've got some hungry people outside, and taking all those corpses away and burning them will only make them hungrier."
Hershel frowned and lowered his head. "I suppose I spoke too soon. Carol said all we have left is oatmeal. There's plenty for all of us, it's just a matter of cooking and serving it."
"I can do that," Beth said as she stood up from her chair.
Hershel reached for his crutches and began to pull himself up, but Rick helped the old farmer onto his one leg. "It'll be a lot of work, Beth," Hershel warned his youngest daughter.
"It's all right, Dad," Beth said cheerfully as she picked the pot up from the serving table and carried it over to the hot plate in the corner. "I want to help."
"That's very good of you, Beth," Rick said as he stood beside Hershel.
Beth smiled as she poured a small bucket of water into the pot, followed by emptying a box of oatmeal, and then she turned on the hot plate. "Rick, could you visit Cell Block D and ask the ladies from Woodbury to come over? They can take the extra boxes of oatmeal and cook lunch for their group."
Rick shook his head in amusement. "Sure thing, Beth," he said. Rick then turned around and headed towards the side door. "Hello, neighbor," he quipped as he opened the door and stepped out into the courtyard.
•••
"Okay. On the count of three," John said as he held onto a corpse's shoulders. Floyd nodded as he held onto the corpse's feet. "One…two…three."
John and Floyd tossed the last corpse off the flatbed trailer, and it landed onto the ground with a thud. A bald, black man with a grey goatee named Charlie Rawlins, and a white man with a grey hair and wearing aviator glasses named Greg Manning, came forward, and they grabbed the corpse by its arms, and they dragged it to the pyre of corpses in the center of the clearing.
The clearing was two miles behind the prison, and they had to drive over broken ground and underbrush to reach it, but John had to admit that Rick was right about keeping the pyre under wraps. If the Governor returned, or a desperate mob showed up, there would be a battle for the prison. John looked over at Sasha, Glenn, and Maggie, guarding the perimeter. He wished he was with them, with an assault rifle in his hands, instead of unloading corpses for a glorified trash fire.
John signaled to Floyd that they should climb down from the flatbed trailer. The timid, retired postal worker nodded. John leapt down, but Floyd stuck his leg out like a toddler stepping into a wading pool. John shook his head in disgust and walked over to the small group that included Tyreese sitting near the truck. "Tuckered out already, boys?" he asked with a grin.
"Screw you, John," one of the men panted.
John looked over at Charlie and Greg and watched as they leaned the dead prisoner against the other corpses in the pyre. The two men walked away from the pyre and sat amongst John and the group, while Eddie picked up a gas container and walked slowly around the pyre, dousing it with the flammable liquid. Once the container was empty, Eddie put it down, dug into his jacket pocket, and took out a plastic lighter and some folded bills. Eddie looked sadly at the money, and then he put the lighter's flame to them, and dropped the burning money onto the gasoline soaked corpse of a prisoner. A small ball of fire shot up from the corpse, which made Eddie leap back. The flames spread quickly across the other corpses, and a column of dark smoke curled up into the afternoon sky. The smell of burning flesh drifted towards the group Woodburians and they coughed in disgust and covered their noses with their hands or their shirts.
"This is desecration," Juan said through his T-shirt.
"Is it time for a religious conversation, Juan?" John asked as he sat down beside the Latino handyman. "Because I miss those talks we used to have during those early days in Woodbury."
"I was just saying we should bury them. It would be the Christian thing," Juan explained as he pulled down his T-shirt.
"I hear you, but we'd need an excavator to dig a mass grave, and that would waste too much gas and make too much noise. Burning them is easier and faster."
"Si, but that doesn't make this any easier."
"Nothing's been easy since the world went to shit," John quipped.
Eddie walked over and sat down amongst the group. "You good, Eddie?" Tyreese asked with his knit cap in his hand.
The older man looked over his shoulder at Tyreese and grinned. "Yeah, just got my eyebrows singed, that's all."
"You got a few Ben Franklin's singed too," John grinned.
"You noticed that?" Eddie asked, looking at the Vietnam veteran.
"Hey, my eyes aren't that old," John answered while pointing at his eyes. "How much money did you burn? $300? $500?"
Eddie looked at the burning pyre and his eyes watered. "It was $1,500."
Everyone in the group except Tyreese groaned painfully.
"You were carrying $1,500 all this time?" Greg asked in amazement.
"Yeah, just before I got to Woodbury, I stopped at one of those 24-hour convenience stores, you know, the kind that's beside the gas stations?" Eddie explained. "Well, I knew the gas was long gone, but I hoped there might be some food left in the store. A bag of chips, a bottle of water, something! Well, it was picked clean all right; even the hotdogs on those slow rollers under the lamps were gone. I glanced over the counter, and saw the safe was wide open. Maybe the attendant kept a gun in there or something. I jumped over the counter, picked through the safe, and came up with a handful of bills, $1,500 in total."
Eddie's fellow Woodburians either whistled in surprise or muttered amongst themselves. Tyreese smiled wistfully. "Man, it wasn't that long ago when $1,500 was just pocket change to me."
"It was more money than I made in a month," Eddie admitted. "I know stealing it was wrong, but I scooped it up, counted it, and stuffed it into my jacket pocket."
"So tell me this, Boy Scout: why'd you steal the money?" Alonzo asked with a smile.
"I was worried about how I'd pay my way when things got back on track," Eddie answered.
"Pay your—are you kidding me, Eddie?" Alonzo sputtered.
"Hey, I've never stole a thing before I walked into that store, and I don't want to steal again!" Eddie argued. "I just…thought I'd need it. Haven't other people taken worse, or haven't they done worse, since the dead started walking around?"
John, Tyreese, and the Woodburians glanced at themselves; no one said a word.
"When I got to Woodbury, I found out I didn't have to pay," Eddie continued. "At least that's what the Governor told me. The truth is that I was paying my way in Woodbury, only I was paying with my freedom instead of with that money."
"I thought Woodbury was a lifebuoy," Eddie said as he watched the pyre burn. "All we had to do was hold onto it long enough and we'd drift back to the way the world used to be! Now, it's gone! And all our hope for the world is gone with it!"
Eddie continued to watch the burning pyre, while John, Tyreese, and the Woodburians stared ahead and thought about Woodbury, the Governor, and those members of their town that followed him to the prison and were now dead.
Finally, John stood up, brushed the grass and dirt from the seat of his jeans, and looked down at his group. "I'm sorry that we upset you, Eddie. You did what you had to do, and we're lucky to have you with us."
Eddie looked up at John and smiled appreciatively, while Tyreese and the Woodburians muttered in agreement.
John looked towards the direction of the prison, which was obscured by two miles of forest. "You said Woodbury was a lifebuoy. Well, that lifebuoy sprung a leak and sank. All we have now is the prison, and we can't let anything…or anyone, sink that, because this time we'll all drown for sure."
The Woodburians applauded John's speech, and it was loud enough to make Glenn, Maggie, and Sasha look over their shoulders and see what was happening behind them.
"All right, stand the hell up and get back in the truck," John ordered. "We have to pick up those walkers Rick's people left in the field and burn them before the damn sun goes down."
The Woodburians stood up in unison and walked towards the Hyundai Tuscon. Glenn, Maggie, and Sasha looked at each other; Sasha nodded and the three lowered their weapons and ran to the Jeep Cherokee, with Sasha glancing over her shoulder at the shadows in the forest.
•••
Daryl woke up, rolled onto his side, and yawned loudly. He blinked his eyes open and after his eyesight focused, stared at the desk bolted on the opposite wall and the toilet in the corner. A minute later he sat up in the bottom bunk and grimaced as he stretched his limbs. Then he rested his forearms on his knees and rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at the sunlight trickling into his cell from the barred windows of Cell Block C.
How long had he slept, at least an hour? The food and the nap rejuvenated him more than he'd care to admit, but now it was time to bury Merle.
Daryl climbed out of the bottom bunk, and put on his denim jacket with leather sleeves along with his leather biker vest. He then looked at the top bunk where he kept his weaponry: the old Horton Scout HD 125 crossbow, his new Stryker Strykezone 380 crossbow, the green plastic tube he used a quiver for his spare arrows, and his Colt Official Police revolver. Daryl wouldn't need his weapons to bury, Merle, but he'd need his Busse Team Gemini knife, which was sheathed on his hip.
Daryl stepped onto the second tier of Cell Block C, and peeked into the cell next door. Inside the cell he saw Carol, sleeping in the top bunk and with a heavy blanket covering her. Daryl leaned against the door frame and watched Carol sleep. She had changed a lot from the timid and abused housewife he'd met at the quarry outside Atlanta; now she was confident and strong. She now she was confident and strong. She had even saved his life today, and even though he hadn't exactly said 'thank you', he felt like she believed it wasn't necessary.
Daryl realized that he too, had changed. A year ago he was indifferent, now he cared about the group, especially Carol. Two days ago, before Daryl left the prison to try and stop Merle from trading Michonne to the Governor he stopped Rick from going with him and said he was family too. Was the group really his family? He supposed that was true. He knew a man couldn't do things without people anymore; he tried to tell Merle that, but his big brother didn't want to hear that.
Daryl walked quietly into Carol's cell and stood beside her bunk. He looked at the peaceful expression on her face and he watched as her chest rose and fell with each breath. Yes, the group was his family, and Carol was to him, its most precious member. After watching Carol sleep for a minute Daryl decided it was time to leave. He had just turned towards the open cell door when out of the corner of his eye, noticed the blanket covering Carol was dangling over the edge of the bunk. Perhaps Carol had thrashed around in her sleep earlier. Daryl reached out carefully, took hold of the blanket, and spread it over Carol evenly. He smiled at her again, and then he walked out of her cell and walked towards the second tier's staircase.
•••
Daryl returned to the prison's garage with a bundle of fresh blankets and ropes under his right arm. He stood over Merle's covered corpse, and looked at it sadly. A minute later he dropped the bundle, unsheathed his knife, knelt down and angrily cut the ropes around the bloody and bullet-riddled blankets, and then he tore the blankets away. Lying before Daryl was Merle: a metal covering with a bayonet attachment for his amputated right hand, two fingers from his left hand bitten off; a small, bloody 9mm bullet wound in the center of his chest, and numerous stab wounds to his face and forehead. A think puddle of dark blood had settled around Merle's body; the result of a full magazine of 9mm bullets puncturing his back when Daryl used him as a shield during the gunfight with the Latino gang.
Tears ran down Daryl's face, and he wiped them away like they were a rash. After he composed himself, he looked at the metal covering on Merle's right arm. Ever since the day Daryl returned to camp and was told Merle was left behind in Atlanta, he had hoped he'd miraculously find his older brother; instead, Merle was found by a manipulative psychopath, who covered up the stump and the end of Merle's right arm with a pig sticker, and tried to make both brothers fight to the death for the amusement of his people. Daryl reached for the metal covering, unbuckled it, slipped it off Merle's right arm, and threw it with all his might into the garage's shadows, where it crashed and knocked down a few other metal objects.
"Daryl," a concerned voice called out from behind him.
Daryl looked over his shoulder and saw Carol standing in the doorway, and wearing her cargo jacket again. "I thought you were asleep," he said as he stood up.
"I was," Carol said as she walked closer to Daryl. She glanced down at Merle's corpse, and she shook her head sadly. "Do you need any help with Merle?" she asked.
"Why not?" Daryl shrugged. "It ain't like we're goin' to get into another gunfight."
Carol smiled softly. She picked up one of the fresh blankets, and spread it out on the garage floor. Daryl knelt down, picked up Merle's corpse, and carefully laid him down on the fresh blanket. Carol picked up the second blanket; Daryl took one half, and they both placed it atop Merle. Carol stepped back as Daryl lifted Merle to a sitting position and wrapped the blankets around his brother's heavy frame. Daryl gestured for the ropes and Carol handed them over one at a time. Daryl wrapped the ropes around Merle and tied a secure knot for each one. Daryl then took a deep breath, picked up Merle, and walked out of the garage with Carol at his side.
•••
Several of the Woodburians were on the courtyard; most of them children, playing basketball of playing tag. When they saw Daryl walking across the courtyard with a heavy body wrapped in blankets and ropes in his arms, they screamed in fear and ran to the safety of their parents. Daryl grumbled angrily and began walking faster, while Carol looked at Daryl worriedly and walked faster to catch up with him.
Daryl made the turn around Cell Block C, and walked towards the group's cemetery when he slowed down and stopped in his tracks. "What the hell…?" he asked in a whisper.
Carol caught up to Daryl. She looked downhill at the group's cemetery and saw Rick, standing in a grave, shoveling out dirt. Rick's jacket and gun belt were lying in front of the grave he was digging. Daryl and Carol glanced at each other and looked back at Rick, who was unaware of their presence. Daryl adjusted his grip on Merle's heavy corpse, and he and Carol walked towards the sheriff's deputy.
Rick drove the shovel's tip into the grave, and he had just put his foot on its step, when he looked to his right and saw Daryl and Carol walking towards him. Rick took his foot off the shovel, stood straight, and nodded at his two friends.
Daryl reached the grave, set Merle's corpse down beside it carefully, and stood up. "What's all this?" he asked.
Rick put his foot back onto the shovel's step, dug out some dirt, and shoveled out a clump of dirt. "No reason you should do all the heavy lifting, right?"
Daryl looked at Carol, who smiled and nodded at him. Tears began to fill Daryl's eyes and he looked back at Rick, and nodded his thanks. He and Carol walked to the left and sat down at respectful distance and Rick continued his digging. Minutes passed, and after a six foot grave was dug, Rick tossed out the shovel. Daryl stood up, walked over to the edge of the grave, knelt down, and offered a hand to Rick. Rick took hold of Daryl's hand, and when both men were certain the grip was firm, Daryl pulled Rick out of the grave.
"Get Merle's feet," Daryl said.
"All right," Rick nodded.
Daryl picked Merle's corpse up by the shoulders, while Rick picked up the feet. Daryl stepped cautiously into the grave, and a moment later, Rick carefully guided Merle's lower body into it. Daryl laid Merle down, looked up, and saw Rick offering him a hand; Daryl took it, and Rick pulled him out of the grave. Carol handed Daryl the shovel, and he slowly shoveled the pile of dirt onto Merle's corpse.
The minutes passed at Daryl finished shoveling the dirt into the grave. He was just patting the dirt down with the shovel when he heard some rustling coming from the top of the hill. He looked to his right, and saw Hershel, on his crutches and wearing his black jacket, hobbling his way down to the group's cemetery.
Rick slipped on his jacket, buckled on his gun belt, and tilted his head in curiosity. "Hershel, what are you…?"
"We're burying a member of the group, Rick," Hershel said, "and I'd like to say a few words over the departed. That is, if the next of kin approves."
Rick and Carol looked at Daryl, whose eyes began to fill with tears again. "Thanks," he said with a broken voice.
Hershel hobbled over to the head of Merle's grave, while Rick bowed his head and stood respectfully. Carol stood beside Daryl and she slipped her hand into his. Daryl intertwined their fingers and he began to weep. Hershel took his worn Bible from his jacket pocket and searched for the appropriate verse; when he found it, he cleared his throat, and began to read aloud:
"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.
Thou prepares a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."
Hershel closed his eyes and bowed his head respectfully. A minute later he opened his eyes, raised his head and said, "Lord, we give unto you our brother Merle Dixon. We ask forgiveness for his trespasses and we ask forgiveness for our trespasses against him. It is written that 'Greater love hath no man that this: that a man lay down his life for his friends.' That was true of Merle, even though we failed him in friendship. We give thanks for Merle's sacrifice and vow in his memory that it shall not be in vain. We vow to persevere. We vow to live again."
After a moment of silence Hershel said, "Amen." Daryl, Carol, and Rick repeated the vow quietly.
Hershel closed his Bible, returned it to his jacket pocket, and began to hobble up the hill on his crutches while Rick aided the old farmer make the slow and arduous climb. Daryl and Carol were still holding hands while with their free hands, they wiped their tears away. Daryl then picked up the shovel, and he and Carol followed Rick and Hershel up the hill. None of them noticed that behind the prison, the burning pyre's black column of smoke rose higher into the afternoon sky.
THE END