Aim for the Brain

They brought her back to Hershel’s farm in a fairly catatonic state. But she didn’t fight them or run. Rick could see everyone was still damaged from the fight at the barn. Dead still lay at the entrance of the barn. Lori had taken Carl somewhere quiet, Carol was holding her little girl in her arms now, still saddened.

“What was all that noise ya’ll were makin’?” T-Dog asked.

“Shane’s still trigger happy.” Daryl said. “Where’s Hershel?”

“Dunno, went off somewhere with his daughter. How’s the girl?”

“Alive, hasn’t said much.” Daryl said. Glen looked at Daryl, then back to T-Dog

“What did she say?” T-Dog asked.

“Oh.” Glen said, “She only ran into the woods to look for Daryl’s lost brother.”

“Merle? Why would she-“

“We don’t know, that’s why we need Hershel.” Glen said.

“She’s cut her feet pretty bad, she ain’t out, but she ain’t talking anymore. There’s something wrong in her head.”

“Did you ask her about the kid?”

“What do you not get, about ‘her ain’t sayin’ much?’” Daryl asked irritated. All this talk of his brother was bringing back unwanted anger towards T-Dog. Daryl watched as Shane disappeared from sight, Rick left to look for Hershel, and Glen pulled out some alcohol to clean the wounds.

“Might as well get started.” Glen said.

Daryl took a roll of cotton and some rubbing alcohol to start cleaning the dirt out of her feet. Both feet were nearly black because of the rich Georgian soil. Anyone dumb enough to run through the woods without shoes was going to have a few good cuts on their feet, and she had just that. One was deep, the rest were treatable with a bandage and cream, Hershel would need to stitch the other.

Daryl watched her, hoping for a sign of sanity to come back to her face. She didn’t even wince when they applied the alcohol to her open wounds.

“Sumthin’ ain’t right in her head.” Daryl said. “It’s like she ain’t even here.”

”Merle…” she said responding to his voice.

“Hey, hey you in there?” Daryl said, getting no more response.

“How do we know she’s talking about your Merle?” T-Dog asked.

“We don’t.” Glen said, “But how many guys you know named Merle?”

T-Dog was silent, he helped hand medical equipment to Daryl and Glen while Rick was still looking for Hershel. Glen later brought in bottles of water, but they couldn’t get her to drink much without causing her to choke on too much of it.

Patricia had stumbled upon them trying to get the cool water down her throat, and she insisted they stop before they killed the poor girl. She came back with a cup of warm water fitted with a squirt of lemon.

“This’ll sooth her throat, and be easier to get down.” Patricia said. “Once she calms down she’ll come back to us.”

“Any idea’s why she’s like this?” Glen asked.

“It’s all mental from what I can tell. Unless there’s something related to her recent infection.” Patricia said, “We just gotta wait this one out.”


Frankie was solemnly quiet the rest of the night, and the occasional sob could be heard from her bedroom late at night. Daryl had spent the night on the couch just outside her room incase she decided to act sane or try to leave again.

He peaked in on her when he first heard the sobs, and she reacted to him.

“You... you okay?” Daryl asked trying to sound concerned.

“Where am I?” she cried, “I don’t – don’t – where am I?”

“Shh… your in Georgia, we’re staying here, a farm house. The guy living here is a doctor, he’s been looking after you.”

“The – the house – I don’t remember –“ Frankie sat up, “Where’s Sophia?” she asked.

“Sophia?” Daryl questioned, “little blonde girl, ‘bout yay’ high?”

Frankie nodded.

“She’s gone. Got bit.” Daryl said.

Frankie began to cry more.

“No no!” Daryl said. He put his palms outward, showing her meant her no harm, “please, don’t cry… how’d you know about her?” Daryl asked.

“I found her… in the woods… and I left her – to look – to look –“

“Too look for… what?” Daryl asked.

“Merle left… he never came back. Cause I chose to stay with the girl.” Frankie said, “but I couldn’t leave here, not alone… then I thought he was in trouble.”

“Merle, so you know a Merle?” Daryl asked, trying to pry further.

“Where… am I, what time is it?”

“It’s late.” Daryl said. “You’ve been sleeping for a few days.”

“Days?” she exclaimed, “but… he would’ve looked for me.” Frankie was breathing heavily now.

“Come on no, not that.” Daryl said. Her psychotic manner scared him more than Shane did. She was frantic, upset, and a woman – Daryl didn’t know how to deal with either. He sat on the side of the bed, he placed his hand on her back, he could feel now how rapidly her chest was moving and it scared him. “Just breath, calm down.”

“Tell me, tell me your name.” Daryl said, “Can you do that?” he asked.

“Fran- Fr-Francis.” She said through breaths.

“Francis?” Daryl said, “I’m Daryl.”

“H-Hi.” She said back, “Do I know you?”

“No. You don’t but I’m here to help, I promise.” Daryl said.

Frankie’s breathing became a little softer now, as she nodded her head to her assuring comment.

“Sophia’s… really dead?” Frankie asked.

“Yeah, and… you should probably not mention to anyone that you found her out there, especially her mother.” Daryl said.

“Sophia – she said she lost her group, I guess you weren’t really that far.”

“Nah, just too late is all. Don’t – don’t blame yourself, its not your fault.”

“I should’ve just stayed with her.” Frankie said.

“But Merle… you said he never came back?” Daryl asked.

Frankie melted into his arms with more tears streaming down her face now at the mention of Merle.

“I didn’t mean to upset –“ Daryl tried to say, but he wasn’t sure she could even hear him through her frantic sobbing. Being out there alone must’ve petrified her, not to mention whatever else she’d been through. If Hershel was right, she was missing a small child of her own, and Daryl was still missing his brother.

He let her cry herself back into a light slumber before she slipped out of the room. She was highly emotional, and Daryl could only take so much. She knew a Merle, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out if it was the Merle Dixon they were looking for, as not many middle aged men were walking around with a cauterized stump.

Daryl slept lightly until morning, when he awoke the soft thud of someone falling to the ground. Both him and Patricia found their way into Frankie’s room where she was lying on the floor. She had tried to get up, but finally she was aware of the pain in her feet, and couldn’t bear to stand. Daryl helped her up, and back onto the bed while Patricia administered the proper medicines.

“Hershel will be back soon, then he can stitch that up before it’s starts to heal on it’s own.” Patricia said, “But in the meanwhile, eat something, you must be famished.”

Frankie nodded and took a can of preserves from her hands and ate it almost instantly, she wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist while Patricia went to get another can of food. Daryl had been waiting in the doorway.

“If Hershel’s not back within the hour, I’ll need you help to fix that foot.”

“Can you do that?” Daryl asked.

“Oh I can stitch a wound, but hold down a frantic girl, that’s where I’ll need you.” Patricia said, “you seem fond of her.”

Daryl was about to interject before Patricia left but instead he watched the girl fiddle with her sheets and wipe more of her tears. She was scared, like anyone would be waking up in a strange place, and she was in no state to run from them. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be forced to trust someone like that. She woke up and had to believe that he wasn’t going to hurt her, or that he was still planning on keeping her safe.

Frankie caught Daryl looking at her, and she immediately tried to rid her face of all tears, knowing her puffy eyes would be impossible to disguise. She didn’t feel like she was in danger, but she felt displaced, lost, she was injured, and couldn’t remember how. Merle was still missing, Sophia was dead, and she couldn’t help but blame herself.

An hour later Daryl was holding her against his chest once more while Patricia thread a needle through the large cut in her foot. She bit down on a strap of leather while she did it, and was glad that Daryl was there to keep her from squirming, or it would’ve been worse.

Patricia told her that she had done well. Frankie hoped she had, because she had tried. But soon, she was alone – they had left her behind most likely to discuss her mental state. She felt stupid, stuck in a bed unable to walk, while Merle was surviving on his own. Frankie felt like she owed him for what he did for her.

Daryl came back in, the one always so interested in her old companion. Sure enough, he had more questions about the things Merle had told her.

“I just… need to know –“ Daryl said. “See I’m missin’ my brother, his name was Merle. He’s a real sumbitch, and he ain’t much for company, so I understand if it’s not the same person. But if you could just tell me if my brothers out there…”

“Merle, he never mentioned a brother.” Frankie told him. “How many hands he got?”

“Only one.” Daryl said.

“Then they are one in the same, found him in Atlanta, or… he found me I guess.” Frankie said as her voice became low. She had ignored that day at the hospital for as long as she could – so for the time being she forced it back into the recess of her memory once again so she wouldn’t cry again.

“So my brother he’s out there?” Daryl asked.

“Sounds like it.” Frankie said.

“I wonder why he never mentioned me.” Daryl said.

“Well like you said he’s a real sumbitch.” Frankie told him.