[ edge of life - iii ]

[ season 1, episode 2 ]
[ guts ]

                    Gun shots continued to echo through the stairwell as the group ascended the steps. Ryan had a sudden sinking feeling.

The entire group knew that sound attracted these things, that it made them thirst for blood and food. That anything that moved would be the next meal if they tried hard enough, and Merle knew that too.

Pattered breathes and quick footwork muted the sound of gunshots as they rushed towards the top of the stairwell.

This is what the inside of his head felt like.

It had been 67 days since the end of the world, and every single one Ryan had spent putting his feelings on the back burner of all situations. Taking the hits when something went wrong or if a disagreement occurred in the group. He was the mediator. He always had control.

But it was slipping.

Always running, thinking, turning. The composure he thought he held onto tightly was falling right out of his hand and he knew one of these days he wouldn't have the strength to keep holding on.

For now, Merle's antics and loose trigger finger were corrupt, the way he thought was only raising the stakes of living and putting the people Ryan felt he needed to protect in harmful situations.

As Ryan pushed open the frigidly cold door to the roof, a blinding white light consumed him and the fascists daunting laugh could be heard from the corner of the rooftop. It was lustful. Lustfully morbid. His appreciation for life was obvious, and his care for others admirable, Ryan thought. If you were a serial killer.

That same sense of losing control slipped through Ryan's senses, flashing in and out as Morales yelled across the roof,

"Hey, Dixon, are you crazy!?" His voice was deep and you could tell as much as any of them, that he was angry.

Merle continued to laugh as they all gathered a few feet away. Remaining distant from what Merle called fun. He was standing on the edge of the building, on top of the railing.

"Hey!" He cocked the weapon in his hands. "Y'all ought to be more polite to a man with a gun!"

Ryan thought about pushing him.

"Huh? Only common sense." Merle commanded the group, acting as if his actions didn't determine life or death.

"Common sense? You're gonna get us all killed." Ryan fumed as his hand held firm on the hilt of his firearm and squinted as the sun shown in his eyes. He thought about how not even an hour ago Merle was silent. Ryan preferred it that way. "You're playing fast and loose with our lives, man."

T-dog was the first to jump off of the walk way, level with Merle.

"Yeah, you wasting bullets we ain't even got!" He waved his arms frantically and the fear he expressed was laced between his words. "And you're bringing more of them down on our asses."

There was that hideous laugh again. Ryan looked to Rick who was already staring at him, searching for answers.

Ryan didn't exactly know how to express without words that Merle was a racist redneck with no appreciation of others, and that when it came to it, he would save himself in any given situation. And the same went for his brother. So he just gave Rick a tight lipped frown as he nodded his head to Merle.

The next string of words out of the rednecks mouth sent Ryan into a tailspin, he was the third to jump off the walkway before his fist found his way to Merle's jaw, after T-Dog and Morales's attempt to control the situation.

T-Dog was on the ground behind Ryan as the others alike rushed forward, attempting to release the tension and mediate the violence. Rick was the next to get hit, and hard. It sent him stumbling over the air filters that ran along the roof.

Merle's fist connected with Ryan's nose, and by chain reaction his eyes started to water and his vision blurred. His hands fell to his knees as he braced himself before reaching up to wipe his nose. It felt wet. He could barely see the streak of blood it left on the white cotton of his shirt.

His vision was blurry, and there were no longer people in front of him when he looked up. It was just forms that sounded like his group as he watched someone fall over.

Ryan shook the pain from his head, and his vision became patchy. He was seething and could barely see. While Merle's back was turned, too occupied by kicking the life out of T-Dog, he grabbed hold of the back of his shirt and threw him hard into the ledge of the building.

Merle's breath was forced out of him, and Ryan gripped the leather of his vest, shoving him up the wall. He pushed him so far back that nearly half of his body was dangling over the side of the building.

If he let go, it would be the mercy of his fall that killed him.

"There's no room for racists in this world, Merle." Ryan cocked his head to the side. He had never done this sort of thing. Ryan knew in his heart, that he was good. That he truly would never do this to another person, because after all that's what Merle was. A person.

It didn't matter if he was at the very bottom of the totem pole, but he was still an important member of their group. He could help provide safety if it was needed, and Ryan didn't have to like him for Merle to do his job. "All of those types died out with the rest of the scum."

Ryan watched as fear filled Merle's eyes for the first time since knowing him.

"Maybe you were just late to the punch." Moving him slightly more back, Merle's spit bubbled through his gritted teeth.

He had underestimated Ryan. For the past two months, he had watched as everyone walked on him. Even his ex-wife. He knew nothing about this man, really. He thought he was weak. But the look on his face told him otherwise.

The pain, the terror, the change. All things evident in Ryan Torelli's eyes. Everyone in camp knew that something had forced that, but what that was was still up for determination. That was what scared him most. It made him nervous. Like a time bomb with no way of knowing when it would go off or why.

"Well?" Merle jutted his chin towards Ryan, his voice was tremulous. "You gonna throw me or what?" He heckled.

Ryan shook his vest, faking Merle out that he was gonna let go.

"Hey!" He yelled out.

"I pull you back up, you try anything else, I will throw you over. No more chances." Merle looked at him, tempting Ryan. Deciding if his life was worth the last word.

He nodded his head. It wasn't.

Ryan pulled him back over the ledge, and threw him across from him into the pipes. He turned around to see that Rick was hunched over, holding his nose.

What he couldn't see was Merle gearing up behind him. For a split second, Ricks eyes grew wide before Ryan was tackled into the concrete. The force of his body hitting the ground was sure to leave bruises later.

Repetitively, Merle's fists we're hitting his face without regret. Ryan couldn't move.

He was paralyzed. No where to go. Until Merle stopped.

"Yeah, that's right." His breathes were heavy and his voice was raspy. It smelled as if he had never brushed his teeth and the air was hot on his face. "You thought I was gon' take orders from your pig ugly ass? I don't think so brother." He shoved his hand hard into Ryan's chest as he stood.

Jacqui helped pull Ryan back, gently caressing his face as she ripped a piece of cloth off of her shirt. He leaned into her hands as she wiped away the mixture of blood and spit, eyeing Merle. Ryan would remember this.

"Now," he continued. "We're gonna have ourselves a little pow-wow. Talk about who's in charge."

"This ain't a dictatorship."

"We'll see about that, eh?" He continued. "I vote me! Anybody else?" His eyes scattered to the faces of the disgruntled group on the opposite end of his outburst. Ryan grimaced as he held himself on his elbows, retreating with the rest of the group. His pain wasn't only coming from the quick-forming bruises that would surely cover his face but as well as the terrifying thought of Merle Dixon being "in charge".

"I think I'd rather get eaten." Glenn murmured.

"Show of hands, huh?" Merle persisted, oblivious to the snide comment that came from the young Glenn Rhee. "All in favor? Huh? Let's see 'em."

Slowly, the members of the group raised their hands. Ryan knew that in order to sway the behavior of these types of people, compliance was more than necessary. Jacqui decided to raise a particular finger in his direction despite the loaded weapon in his hand.

"Now that means I'm the boss, right? Anybody else?" Merle had seemed to forget about the fresh face that joined them on the roof.

"Yeah." Merle's body turned as his face was met with the butt of his own rifle, knocking him off of his feet and landing belly-up on the concrete. As Rick placed his knee to Merle's face and cuffed him to the pipe, Ryan found his way back to his feet and turned to the members of his group helping them to stand as well.

Even after having no contact with Rick since his coma had left him less than social, and being led to believe he had died, Ryan felt secure in the fact that Rick could handle himself. That was what he knew. It was easy to let him control the situation and Merle alike because he had seen him mediate similarly beforehand. After all, Rick was who taught him everything he knew.

Maybe circumstances had changed, and society as a whole was turning a new leaf, but negotiation and communication was something that still had a lively need in this new world.

"Is everyone okay?" Ryan's hands met every one of his people's shoulders, looking for serious injury and emotional soundness.

"My faith in humanity isn't." T-Dog fumed.

"Well, let's consider who it is we're dealing with and reconsider that hurt? But, like I said. There's no room for people like that anymore." Ryan assured as everyone turned towards Rick, his gun raised to a hand-cuffed Merle before slowly lowering it.

"Anybody who gets in the way of that is gonna lose. I'll give you a moment to think about that." As Ricks conversation concluded, Ryan wondered what statement he had caught the end of, but Rick continued talking as he pulled a cylinder out of Merle's pocket that contained a white substance.

Coke. It must have been what he gave Lauren.

Ryan walked closer as Rick held the bottle to Merle's face, grabbing it from his hand.

"So this is what has you all tweaked out up here? You're little visit to the sky could have killed us."

"What are you gonna do? Arrest me?" His merciless laugh rang through Ryan's ears again. Merle was creating an annoying habit of adding onto the problems that wore Ryan's patience thin. He rolled his eyes before throwing the small container over the edge of the building.

As Rick walked to the other side with Morales in pursuit, Ryan looked to Merle one more time.

"That was almost you." The criminal bad mouthed and cursed as much as he could from his stiff positioning on the ground as Ryan turned to follow Rick.

Ryan had always found it a little funny how he followed Rick like he was his own father. Everyone at the station pointed it out when they noticed it. How once Ryan completed his training it wasn't just Rick and Shane. It was Rick, Shane, and Ryan.

They were never seen without each-other.

In a sense they were family. Ryan was thankful for them. He was thankful to Shane for being there with him as the cities began to burn. As they're lives were torn down. To be there for the death of his daughter.

He was thankful for the lessons that Rick had taught him. He knew it was tough on Shane for the months that Ryan was Ricks rookie. That he "stole him" in a way. He supposed that the bond you make growing up together is one that isn't particularly shared among others.

But they learned to live with each-other and became good friends.

As Morales retreated from Ricks side and Ryan approached, the pair stood in uncomfortable silence as they peered at the ground below them. Ryan was the first to look at Rick and he saw how his hand shook.

Ricks hands only ever shook when he was truly scared. He had only seen this once before today.

That was the day that Rick had been shot.

Ryan allowed for his hand to grasp Rick's shoulder, in an attempt to ground him. His sad eyes found Ryan's as he nodded.

"You know, as shocked as I am to see you I can't help but express my gratitude." Rick smiled and shook his head.

"What do you mean?"

"I just— what are the odds you know?" Ryan paused and observed Rick's puzzled expression. "Forget it." He shook his head.

Was it weird? Ryan had been thinking about ways to thank Rick. Going over in his head about what he would say to him if he ever woke up. And sure, he visited his hospital room right after the accident and would talk to him. The doctors said it was good for coma patients. Even if they can't see you there were studies or something about their subconscious abilities once woken up.

But he had thought time and time again after the fact about how much he owed him. Ryan raised his hand to the back of Rick's neck.

"I'm just glad you're here." He postulated before he nodded towards the group and they turned to rejoin the conversation.

"How's that signal?" Morales inquired, Ryan walked towards Glenn who sat on the steps leading to the walkway, walkie in hand.

"Like Dixon's brain— weak." Ryan smirked as T-Dog rebutted, his jab at Merle's intelligence was not an understatement and that was at least one thing the group could agree on.

"Keep trying."

"Why?" Andreas doubt was reciprocated by everyone. "There's nothing they can do. Not a damn thing." Ryan grabbed the walkie from Glenn as he outstretched his arm to reach him. Morales sent a tight lipped frown to the disgruntled woman in an attempt to ease her worries.

"Got some people outside the city is all. Like Ryan said, there's no refugee center. That's a pipe dream."

"If we can reach them though, if we needed to, we could send for help right?" Glenn added.

"That would only put more of the group in danger. We gotta find a way out of here ourselves." Ryan shook his head as he took the piece of cloth from Jacqui's persistent hand, wiping at his wounds and easing her worry.

"Then she's right. We're on our own." Rick nodded in agreement with Ryan. "It is up to us to find a way out."

"Good luck with that." Merle was quick to add. "These streets ain't safe in this part of town from what I hear."

"And what exactly have you heard lately?" Ryan stood at Merle's feet now, an eyebrow raised. "Surprised you can hear anything through the clouds around your head and that case of selective hearing you seem to have come down with."

Merle smirked obnoxiously and turned his attention towards Andrea as Ryan turned back to Rick and Morales.

"The streets ain't safe." Morales repeated. "Now there's an understatement."

Ryan thought for a moment. If they could leave the way they came and every entrance and exit in the building was covered by roamers, where could they go? Ryan asked himself if this could have all been a mistake, and then Rick seemed to read his mind.

"What about under the streets?" He asked. "The sewers?"

——————————

The silent but natural noise the earth made around the camp back at the quarry swallowed everyone whole. They talked in low whispers, or talked just loud enough that only the people right next to them could hear. It wasn't really a precaution they had taken up, it just happened. As the sun rose high in the east and landed in the middle of the sky, the people around camp grew quiet. It allowed for the world to speak.

Zoe observed as a happy family of 3 gathered in near vicinity, Carl and Shane sat next to each-other with wide smiles. Lori Grimes stood but a couple yards behind them, folding laundry like a dutiful wife. The smiles on their faces represented nothing but laughter and pure, untouched joy.

Her brain flooded with memories of her daughter, reminding her of a time in her life when that was her.

The lonely woman sat on the steps of Dale Horvath's RV as she watched them. Trying not to be mad, trying to be happy for them. That they were blessed with time and the foreseeable rest of their lives. She tried to be happy as she watched them have such similar conversations that she would have had with her daughter if she wasn't taken by the new relentless hand of death that graced their world.

Though, who could say it was theirs anymore. It wasn't like there were newsletters still being dropped off about the dead rising, or new masses of where they were coming from and why. The world was dying. Who was to tell it no? But the world certainly didn't seem like it belonged to people anymore. It didn't belong to anyone. It didn't belong to Zoe.

Nothing was ever hers. And when good things happened to other people, she wished those things would happen to her. She wasn't bitter because of the end of the world, she just missed her daughter.

She dug the sharp stick in her fingers into the dirt just inches underneath her, the hatred inside her ran deep for other people and her opinions were fast-changing. Her life had changed dramatically since the death of her daughter Phoebe.

A look of displeasure adorned Zoe's face as she continued staring. She didn't understand how quickly Lori had moved on after her husband, Rick Grimes. She knew them before, and the love they shared was admirable.

Lori Grimes ran her thumb over the hem of a collar as she held one of her husbands old button downs in her hands, for some reason she had grabbed a good chunk of his clothing before they left. Even then she didn't quite know that her husband was gone, but something told her that she would need the smell of his skin as comfort in the coming days.

She kept them sealed away, held in a plastic bag at the bottom of a tote and only brought them out on the nights that seemed especially hard. And once they were all used up, she washed them and wore them comfortably in his memory. The nights that Carl talked about his father. He talked about him like he was his hero, that that was how he died. A hero. But Lori hadn't even told him how he died, she wasn't quite sure she knew herself.

She remembered one thing from the night Shane and Ryan had ushered their families and company out of the city, away from their small town they had knew like the back of their hand, was that Shane waited until she was pushing him away to tell her that her husband had died.

With tearful eyes, she rejected his statement. You're lying, she denied. Glistening eyes met her own as Ryan must've just been hearing the news himself. His face churned as he looked to Shane.

It was only a couple hours later that Ryan's daughter was killed.

Lori knew that Pheobe was there one minute and the next she wasn't. Her body laid in a small grave on the inner suburbs of Georgia. Alone.

She didn't want that for Carl.

Her actions after the fact were less controllable and were swayed more and more by Shane. She was faithful, but she was lonely. The type of lonely only love could fix and so she leant on Shane. The more the days progressed in their small corner of the world, the harder the realizations had hit and the more she started to distance herself from Shane romantically.

He could protect them, surely. And she could always rely on Ryan too, but with his grief came a lot of friction in asking for favors. Through stories, Lori knew that their family was notorious for not handling their grief well.

Lori looked up to sear the image of her son into her memory, but met the rage filled eyes of Zoe Torelli hastily walking towards her. Lori's smile faded.

"You must be a shitty mother." She whispered.

"Excuse me?" Lori replied. She had no idea how this could have inquired.

"Earlier- you're son. The one you beam about being so kind-" she bent her knees slightly, bouncing on her feet- "screamed at Sophia for asking a simple question. Did you teach him that?"

"What are you talking about?" Lori's eyes flickered to Carl as she whispered.

"He was rude. And disrespectful."

"Then I will deal with it." Lori confirmed.

"I'm just saying, if that were my kid it would have been dealt with. Actually- no. It wouldn't have happened. He needs to be punished."

Lori's mouth hung open with shock, reeling at the ambush from Zoe. She had no idea how to respond. Ever since the night of Phoebe's death and the weeks following, there was no way to tell how to talk to her. Anything and everything set her off.

A mother without her child is pure rage.

There was nothing to blame except for the fact that she was grieving. And that wasn't even an excuse, it was a legitimate reason.

"Zoe, I will say this as carefully as I can." Her voice was sincere. "I- everyone has been lenient with how you talk and express yourself, especially with the kids around."

Zoe's eyebrows pulled together in confusion as Lori continued trying to brace herself for the storm that would follow her words.

"But you have no jurisdiction over how I raise my child. I understand that you lost your daughter. We all handle loss differently." Zoe's eyelids fluttered as her body filled with disgust.

"You don't." Zoe interrupted.

"I'm sorry?" Her eyes were soft as she looked at the woman in-front of her. Her disheveled hair and streaky face that almost looked as if there were permanent marks from the many tears she had shed.

"You don't understand. Because if you did, you would have never said that," she shook her head slightly, "because you would know that you can't put a timer on grief."

Zoe shook her head and proceeded to exit the same way she entered by stalking back to Dale's RV and slamming the door behind her, leaving Lori clutching one of her husbands shirts.

When Lori really thought about it, she couldn't seem to configure a better way for her words to come out. That maybe it was the entire message and not just the words. Handling other peoples emotions was always what Rick was best at. Lori couldn't even quite handle her own at times, it just reminded her that her better half was gone.

In some sense she could understand why Zoe acted the way that she did now. Because even if Lori had lost her better half, Zoe had lost her world. And Lori wouldn't know what to do if she lost Carl.

——————————

The group back in Atlanta had come to the conclusion that the only way out was through. In order to deceit the dead they would have to mock them. The way they walked and looked and unfortunately, the way they smelled.

The people surrounding the rotting bodies thought about the soundness of Ricks decision making skills, even Ryan in the slightest. None of them in their right minds would have thought about wearing another persons guts or organs and parading through the streets in order to survive but, circumstances change.

As they lathered Glenn and Rick in the browned innards, since they had decided the best option for escape was to send the 2 people who knew the city best, they held their breath.

The group was dressed from head to toe in makeshift hazmat gear, trench coats, rubber gloves, and some even wore face guards in order to keep the rotting guts from possibly spraying at their face.

In all honesty, there was no idea in which way people could be infected except for the fact that bites turned you. Don't get bit.

Glenn visibly paled, exerting all of his strength to not exude his breakfast into the floor. Not that it would smell any different.

"Oh jeez. Oh, this is bad. This is really bad." He groaned.

"Think about something else, like— puppies and kittens." Rick added, turning his head and swallowing thickly.

"Dead puppies and kittens." T-Dog added, looking to the bodies on the floor and Ryan grimaced.

The rubbery gloves that covered his hands met Glenn's back as his failed attempt at keeping in the contents of his stomach were displayed on the floor.

"Seriously, man?"

The group continued to apply the unfortunate man's innards onto the coats of Glenn and Rick and before long, they were ready. They certainly smelled ready.

The scent of death was distinct as Ryan and Rick remembered, but this was a whole new wave of corpse. This smell would be hard to get used to. Ryan was glad it wasn't him slathered in sicko guts, but he did wish there were a way to go with them. To help.

As Rick and Glenn left the storage room doors that led to the streets, the sickos in the alley were none the wiser.

The rest of the group scattered to reach the top of the building once more, darting through the lobby where the glass doors looked as though they were bound to break at any given second.

Following the pack, Ryan stuck to the rear as he grabbed more supplies. He had found some stacks of T-Shirts and decided that people at camp were going to be confused if they came back empty handed after all that talk of stock piling.

Continuing to quickly shove things in his pack, Ryan's eye was caught by an illuminating blue from across the room. He tried not to get distracted but when he noticed the shape of what it was he couldn't help but wander over to the item.

Sat on top of the jewelry display was a blue butterfly pendant bracelet.

His face softened as he looked at the object. It was a simple mindless thought, a split moment mistake and he thought;

She would like that.

But that was false. Because she couldn't like anything. She was gone. And dead. She was gone and dead and it didn't matter that she loved butterflies or the color blue. It didn't matter because she was dead.

But there were these moments, so simple and so similar to this one that he forgot. Mindlessly.

How he saw her in everything. Her being encased his soul and now that she was gone there was a gaping hole where she once lived. It was discouraging.

Ryan had spent so long putting others before himself that his grip on his own emotions were too much to handle and so hard to fight back. He squeezed his eyes shut.

He didn't need this right now.

All he could think about was how she would have loved this bracelet. He thought about how he had nothing of her, nothing but empty clothing that no longer smelled like the time in his life that she existed but smelled of her blood.

Every time he looked at them he was reminded of her death. Her life was left on the seams of his clothing, the violence that ended her life was clear.

He looked at the bracelet. His eyes shifted to the glass door and then again to the blue and gold jewelry.

He took it.

Shoving the small chain into his pocket as he darted for the door leading to the roof, he blinked until his eyes dried again. He was encased in a bright white light as he rushed over to Jacqui, Andrea, and T-Dog who sat on the ground across from the still handcuffed Merle trying to get in contact with those back at camp.

With eager eyes, the group watched as the 2 survivors who chose to risk their lives made their way amongst the dead, stepping closer and closer to the gate at the end of the intersection.

The clouds above them rumbled.

Thunder.

Thunder meant one thing. That a storm was coming.

Ryan felt the first droplet fall onto his cheek as he looked to the sky and then worriedly to Morales.

"It's just a cloudburst." Morales shook his head. "We get 'em all the time. It'll pass real quick."

"That's not what I'm worried about." Ryan grabbed the binoculars from his hands, aiming them to look at Rick and Glenn. "Even if it storms for two minutes or twenty, that rain is washing their scent away."

Just as Ryan spoke he watched as Rick turned and put the blade of his axe into the skull of a dead one. They broke out into a sprint.

"Shit."

The dead only inched closer as they breached the gate, throwing their weapons over. It's heart racing to see from above.

The dead grab at their feet as the two climb, making it over unscathed and tearing the blood soaked clothes from their bodies, continuing to run. Glenn runs out of view as Rick unsheathes his revolver, loading bullets into the brains of dead as they try to climb over.

Ryan pulses on the balls of his feet as he watches them race to the truck with anticipation. The truck tears off as the gate falls. 

"They're leaving us." Andrea is quick to lose faith.

"Where are they going?"

"No, come back."

"Hey! They need to make sure we all get out, they can't do that if they're dead." Ryan assures, running a hand through his hair as he watches them leave. "Leading them away is the best option. It gives us some—"

"Those roll up doors at the front of the store facing the street— meet us there and be ready." Ryan is interrupted by Glenn's voice breaking through the walkie in T-Dog's hand.

In an instance, everyone is grabbing the belongings from the roof and hustling to the stairs, racing to the bottom level.

The walkers at the glass are only more agitated, angry even. Ryan pushes the thought to the back of his mind as they all rush to the pull up doors and a few moments later T-Dog is close to follow.

Ryan pulls out a machete, ready at the door while the others clutch the chains that will lift the door. If anything happens, he would be quick to take the hit. Even if it meant his life.

They hear a truck engine pull close, followed by a banging on the metal door. They're here.

As they all throw themselves into the back of the truck and Rick speeds off, Ryan slices the crown of a sickos head as it reaches for Andrea's foot.

Breathing heavily, the group quickly realizes that there's a member missing. They look to T-Dog.

"I dropped the damn key."

Ryan's face fell, he knew that losing people was risk they had to take and that it was a definite possibility. But he never thought it would actually happen. Even if that person was Merle.

Ryan's stomach sank.

He hoped it was quick.

a.n:

i figured it was probably about time that i updated again... i disappeared for the end of school so i could focus on finals and such but now that that's gone and done(i graduated last thursday) it's time to focus on actual important things like fanfics 🙄🙄🙄
jk. stay in school and do great things xx.

ANYWHO... how are we feeling about this chapter? i'm excited to get this fic moving. this chapter was so long i am unbearably sorry abt that. the more i wrote the more i wanted it to be over, and trust me i understand hating long ass chapters because i probably read this one like 18832929 times at least.
#overdone #shutup #whydidmerlegetsomuchdialouge??

but yeah, hope you enjoyed ily. <333