Daryl and Merle

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Without gas, Evan could not keep riding.

Out here, everything was spread too far apart.

That basically meant he would have to turn back. Trying to find Daryl and Merle without fuel would be unrealistic.

But if he wanted gas, he would have to push the motorcycle through the faces of several hundred walkers.

"Unless I learn how to fly, how the hell am I getting through that?"

Evan decided to retreat.

Worst case, he could go back to the Prison, bring the red brute, and search slowly later.

But after he backed up only a few steps, he noticed something above the convenience store beside the gas station.

A pair of gaudy patterned shorts had been raised like a flag.

The shorts fluttered in the breeze, bright enough under the sun to catch his eye immediately.

"Hm?"

Evan narrowed his eyes.

Beside the flag, a bald head was crouched low.

"No way..."

His attention sharpened.

He looked again toward the center of the horde.

Two motorcycles stood quietly near the pumps.

Gas nozzles were still inserted in the tanks, which was enough to show how quickly their owners had left.

Evan looked away and rubbed his forehead.

"Seriously? It really is them. They just love giving me work."

He had planned to leave and come back later.

But if Daryl and Merle were trapped here, then he could not go.

The brothers had been away from the convoy for a while.

They had only meant to leave temporarily, so they had not brought much food or water.

If he did not save them now, he might come back later and find two walkers instead.

Daryl and Merle would turn after death too.

"How do I draw off a horde this size..."

Evan studied the station until his eyes landed on a fuel truck with its door hanging half open.

They brightened.

At the gas station, on top of the convenience store, Merle's face was pale.

He propped himself up and looked around.

The horde seemed to have grown even larger.

Discouragement crossed his face.

He let out a dry laugh with a bitter edge, then felt his way back down and lay on the roof.

Daryl lay beside him with a black shirt draped over his head.

"I told you to stop moving," Daryl said. "Every move burns food and water."

"Do what I'm doing. Keep your head covered."

"With heat like this, you'll be cooked into jerky by tonight."

"You won't make it through."

His voice came from under the black shirt.

Daryl sounded weak.

Earlier, he had lowered his voice on purpose.

Now, he simply did not have the strength to speak louder.

"Tonight?" Merle drawled.

"The rainwater we caught the night before last is almost gone. We left in a hurry and didn't bring food."

"If this horde doesn't move, sooner or later we'll die of thirst or hunger."

"Little brother, promise me something."

"If I die first, you eat my body, drink my blood, and get out of here."

Merle still did not know that the virus was already sleeping inside him.

The moment he died, he would turn.

Daryl went silent.

Not long after, Daryl yanked the shirt off himself and threw it over Merle's face, covering his upper body.

"You stupid or something, Merle?"

"Listening to you makes me want to puke. Keep the shirt on and shut your damn mouth."

Daryl's lips were pale.

His eyes were a little unfocused, but the stubborn grit in them had not changed.

"Hey, don't be a bitch."

"You're my brother. Better you eat me than let the walkers have me. Ha."

Merle wrestled his way out from under the shirt and laughed as if none of this had anything to do with him.

Daryl went quiet again.

He narrowed his eyes.

Maybe he was conserving strength.

Maybe he was remembering.

"You know, you've always been an asshole."

Daryl suddenly opened his eyes and glared at Merle.

His dry, red eyes looked full of old anger.

"When wasn't I an asshole?"

"I mean when you left."

"..."

"Wasn't that a good thing? With me gone, things at home should've been easier for you."

"Yeah?"

Daryl stopped talking about saving strength.

He yanked off his black undershirt and exposed the scars across his back.

Merle had been lying there with one hand under his head, weak but still wearing that careless grin.

When he saw those deep marks, he pushed himself upright.

"I... I didn't know he did that to you too."

Shock. Confusion. Guilt.

No single word was enough for the panic on Merle's face.

"Yeah, he did. Same as he did to you. That's why you ran from home in the first place."

Daryl did not look at him.

Even his tone had gone almost casual.

"If you fought that hard to live back then, why are you giving up now?"

"Merle, look at my back. All of this is what you owe me."

"You don't get to die before you pay me back."

Daryl grabbed Merle by the collar and leaned close, his voice low.

They were blood brothers, but they expressed emotion in completely different ways.

Daryl cared in silence and action.

Merle hid weakness behind aggression.

Daryl knew where Merle's weak spot was, so he spoke to him with the same sharpness.

Meet aggression with aggression.

Daryl knew Merle only listened when the words hit hard.

Merle was all he had left.

And Merle was his brother.

"Don't start annoying me now, little brother."

Merle's eyes went distant for a second.

Then he shoved Daryl's face away.

After he turned his head aside, his eyes quietly reddened.

Daryl looked at Merle's averted back and fell silent.

Something flickered in his eyes.

He lowered himself back to the roof.

Then, in the next second, he suddenly pushed up again.

His gaze locked onto the outside edge of the gas station.

A huge rumbling sound came closer and closer.

A fuel truck roughly the size of a fire truck roared into view, loud enough to shake the air.

Daryl was not the only one who looked.

So did the several hundred walkers gathered in the station.

The truck was not moving fast, only about fifteen miles an hour.

But it thundered past the outside of the gas station, making enough noise to drag the horde into motion.

The walkers shifted from a stumble into a ragged trot.

They followed the fuel truck toward the distance.

Only then did Merle pull himself out of the emotion he had fallen into and look up.

"What the hell's happening?"

"Don't know," Daryl said, narrowing his eyes. "Looks like somebody came."

Daryl scanned the whole gas station.

The fuel truck had pulled away seventy or eighty percent of the horde.

Now only a few dozen walkers still wandered around the station, the ones that had failed to keep up.

Shhk.

The sudden sound of flesh tearing made both brothers turn at once.

What they saw was a familiar face wearing a bright smile.

"Gentlemen," Evan said. "Enjoying the view?"

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