Merle Dixon [The Walking Dead] (givemeahand) wrote in risingscenes, @ 2013-02-22 18:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | ~merle dixon |
WHO: Merle Dixon, Phillipa Cobb
WHAT: Arrivals (backdated to coincide with this)
WHERE: Roof of a drugstore downtown
WARNINGS: Mild language, brief mentions of violence/self-harm
The last thing Merle remembered was praying to Jesus to save him, bargaining with God, and promising to clean up his act if he could just make it off of that roof alive. He remembered the tears of pain and panic streaming down his face as he stretched as far as he could, the handcuffs cutting into his hand, joints straining as he grasped at the handle of the hack-saw.
He must have blacked out from the strain, coupled the heat, and dehydration--or maybe it was the drugs in his system--though he would never have admitted to something like that out loud. He had no idea how many hours he'd been left up there in the sun, watching as it slunk lower, and lower on the horizon as he'd screamed himself hoarse. All he knew what that he blinked, and something changed.
He still had the saw in his hands, and bloodied wrists where the cuffs had cut into his skin--and where the saw had failed to cut the metal cuffs, and bit into flesh instead--but instead of a bunch of walkers pushing through the barricaded roof access door, it was a lone teenage girl. Her face was streaked with dirt and tears, her hair was mussed, and her clothing disheveled. She had a backpack over one shoulder and a gun in her hand.
She didn't see Merle, lying there behind the pipe that he was cuffed to, but he saw her walk to the edge of the roof and look over, like she was thinking about climbing up. Merle's mind registered the backpack beside him, identical to hers, at the same time he realized that she was going to jump. She must have been out of bullets. Maybe it was the gunfire that woke him up.
Amateurs. "You don't wanna do that, sweetheart," he called out, pushing himself up on his knees so she would see him. "If you die like that, you'll just come back as one of them--and it'd be a shame to spoil a face as pretty as yours."
The girl whimpered, but hesitated, and put her foot back on the ground, turning toward the sound of his voice. "What? Who's there?"
"Name's Merle Dixon," he said, dropping the rusty saw to hold out his free hand to her. Maybe this was the sign that he had prayed for. "I know it looks bad right now, darlin', but there are other survivors out there, and I can help you, if you just come away from that wall."