Aim for the Brain

Frankie awoke startled, by some means of the Georgia heat she could no longer stand the confines of a feather blanket, and struggled to make her way around the room. The moonlight left an eerie glow over the farm that she had stumbled upon. She wondered how she got here, who had found her.

She vaguely remembered fleeing the safety of that home, leaving behind that small girl, going after a man she had only had the pleasure of knowing for a few weeks. But like a strong whirlwind she had gone from hiding in a Texaco gas station, to a functioning farm all in a few months. Her stomach had gotten smaller of course, making it able for her to see her feet again. Feet that now held terrible scars from jagged the rocks and branches.

She could still feel sore muscles healing from the ordeal she’d been through. And she had luckily recovered from her fever leaving her head clearer, but still unsettled. Frankie was only twenty-one years old. In and out of doctors offices, schools, she had skipped college, meant to live and be free for as long as she could, and then she became pregnant. Everything stopped; she cleaned up, and found a family to adopt her baby.

Then the disease, the painstaking, apocalyptic, forever changing disease.

Not one person Frankie knew survived. Family, friends… all were dead by the time she left her home speeding as fast as the 1992 Pontiac would take her. And after being alone for so long, Merle had been her only living contact since losing her family, and she latched onto him hoping to keep a friendly face for as long as she could, and in another blink of an eye he was gone.

Her feet hurt as soon as she finished making a circle around her room. She was taking small steps, easing her way onto one foot and off the other. She couldn’t stay here, she was feeling suffocated.

She had avoided most of the group, remembering stories from Merle about the men that had left him on that roof to die – she didn’t like them, any of them, especially the man that didn’t like her.

Almost like a ghost she crept through Hershel’s house, finding that every step she took hurt. But she felt compelled to breathe fresh air, even if the open space bothered her.
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Daryl had become immensely frustrated over the last few days, having no luck in finding Sophia, or Merle had really gotten him to the point of self-loathing.

He couldn’t watch these people around him to try to rebuild their lives when he didn’t have any building materials. And he’d given up on any hope he had for finding his brother, he couldn’t tell if this girl was bat-shit crazy or too far-gone to ever come back. Day after day they’d end up giving her a sedative to keep her from screaming or fighting. It seemed Daryl was able to talk her down to a calm state, but between ramblings and mumbling – nothing she said was useful.

Daryl stood up; he squinted his eyes and raised his crossbow. He was on watch.

The movement in front of the house had caught his eye, the girl, the crazy girl; she was stumbling out of the house. He rolled his eyes and went back to watching the plateau of grass.

After some time he could feel her eyes boring into the back of his head and it bothered him. Her abnormal thought process not only made him mad, but also frightened him. He didn’t know exactly why she was the way she was or if she was even sane.

He climbed down the RV ladder, finding his feet on solid ground again once he was at the bottom. He strode over there, still angry.

“Girl.” He said, walking up to her. “Ain’t you supposed to be inside?” he asked.

She just looked at him, almost surprised.

“I ain’t goin’ to watch over ya if you’re gonna just sit here.” He said.

She just looked at him again.

“Ain’t yer head work right?” he asked.

She smiled and shook her head no.
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Merle had gone back a few weeks. Back towards Atlanta, half of him was glad he’d left the girl behind, and the other half felt slightly lonely. Her lack of personality was more than unsettling to him, having been with her through some fairly traumatic times, Merle didn’t like the fact that he knew nothing about her. He had never asked for her company, yet she seemed to follow him, deathly afraid of being alone again.

He felt better again, now that he was back to being alone he only had to watch out for himself – he didn’t care whether she or that girl were okay, for all he cared they could starve together. They weren’t his responsibility.

Merle liked things that way.

The only thing he did miss was his kid brother. Never would he have said that aloud, but he did tend to think of Daryl through out the day, wondering about him. Merle had little to care for in this world, blood was the only thing and now it was gone.

Merle had made his way back to the old campsite he had shared with his brother and the others outside of Atlanta. It was all but abandoned long ago, but Merle would come here in-between visits to town and wonder if they were coming back.

Merle knew one thing was for certain; people come and go in this world. Whether they’re living or dead you always keep moving. No place safe, just always somewhere safer.

That day he gathered some more supplied from Atlanta, food, provisions, and decided to head north.