Skin Deep

We were in the middle of another mini race. Merle was ahead of us, but Daryl was right on his trail, both of them yelling insults at each other and making me laugh. Without any warning, Merle slammed on his brakes. Dust flew into my face and I began coughing while braking as well. I tried to steer off to the right, hoping we wouldn’t crash into each other. My motorbike had almost stopped when I felt it tipping. Unable to see from the dust, I fell over with it, my natural response making me attempt to jump off it. I hit the ground at a funny angle because of the small heels on my boots, and something in my right ankle was pulled. With a thump, I crashed to the ground.

Annoyed, and attempting to rid the dust from my lungs, I scanned in front of me for the brothers. Merle was lying on the ground a metre or so from his bike, but he wasn’t on the brown dirt that we’d been riding on. He was on tarmac. We’d found a road. No wonder they had tried to stop. Going over those rough edges quickly would have caused damage to the tyres and made the bike difficult to control. I pulled my motorbike back up and set it on its stand, taking off my backpack and leather jacket to cool myself off. I then hobbled over to Merle, biting down on my teeth to prevent myself from crying out each time I put any weight on my right ankle.

“Are you all right?” I called out. He wasn’t moving, just staring up at the sky. At the sound of my voice he sat up and quickly brought himself to his feet. I spotted the bright red dripping from his left forearm as he rearranged his leather vest.

“Peachy,” he smirked, clearly fine despite the blood. Our heads then turned up ahead. There was a dust cloud that was clearing many metres from the road and we approached it. Merle arrived before me, since his legs weren’t injured at all. He then started laughing boisterously. “Oh little brother, you didn’t listen!” I finally got close enough to see Daryl sitting next to his bike and looking frustrated.

“Oh my…” I breathed as I saw how much blood was on him. His entire left arm seemed to be soaked with bloody dirt. Daryl just glared at his older brother with a deathly look. “What happened?”

“Well I was edging in front of Merle, but then he shouted to slow down and he slammed on his brakes. I thought he was just pissed I was in front,” Daryl began, but was interrupted by Merle’s laughter.

“This just keeps gettin’ better,” he said to himself. He seemed to lap up his brother’s pain. I limped forward a few more steps and crouched down in front of Daryl’s left arm, looking at his wounds.

“Turns out my bike doesn’t like going over ragged sides of asphalt,” Daryl grumbled to me as he turned his arm a bit, wincing from either pain or the sight of the blood.

“You should get patched up,” I commented. Daryl met my eyes and I could see him questioning my concern. “The smell of blood probably attracts a lot of things out here, not just Biters.” He gave a small nod and then glanced behind me at his brother.

“You got the first aid?” Daryl called.

“Yeah, but we’re out of painkillers and low on steriliser,” Merle replied. With a look over my shoulder I saw he was heading back to his motorbike so I stood.

“I’ve got some pills, if you want any,” I offered.

“Yeah, just sneak them to me so Merle don’t see,” he answered with a slight grin. I nodded and stood, beginning my journey back to my bike. Once there, I picked up my bag and got on my ride, keen to not walk much on my aching ankle. When I was back with Daryl, Merle was standing nearby, using a drink bottle to pour water over his bloodied forearm. While he was preoccupied I passed Daryl a couple of painkillers and my own water bottle, and he downed them in a second. In the rest of my first aid kit I found bandages and some alcohol wipes, so I set them aside.

“Do you want help, or…” I trailed off, uncertain of how to approach the situation. Daryl was already using my bottle to drip water on his arm, which was slowly clearing the muddy blood from his skin and revealing where the wounds were. They seemed to be grazes, rather than gashes, which he must have gotten from skidding across the ground.

“I dunno if I can reach all of them well enough,” he admitted after a short pause of thinking.

“How about we trade. I’ll fix you up, and you give me an extra can of food,” I proposed.

“Don’t be a pussy,” Merle snarled, suddenly closer to us. He was reaching into their first aid kit and pulling out some Band-Aids.

“Deal,” Daryl said without a glance at his older brother. I decided to ignore the remark too and instead opened up an alcohol wipe. As quickly as I could I passed the wipe over the grazes on Daryl’s bicep, thinking it would be sufficient to sterilise the wound. I knew alcohol stung open wounds like a bitch, so I tried to be as efficient as possible. Daryl’s hand was clenched into a strong fist, yet his face showed no sign of pain. As I discarded the wipe and opened another for his forearm, Merle chucked unused bandages back into the first aid kit. I glanced up at him, seeing a portion of his arm was now covered. All I could see was a few minor scratches that already had scabs formed.

“Y’know, I’m injured too. How ‘bout you give me some special treatment, sweetheart?” Merle suggested in a cocky tone. My eyes fell back to Daryl’s arm as my mind tried to come up with an insulting counter, but nothing came to me.

“Don’t be a pussy,” Daryl spat, finding the perfect words to repeat back to Merle. I kept my head low so Merle didn’t see my uncontrollable grin.

“Didn’t want your help anyway,” he grumbled as he stomped away from us. After a quick glance over my shoulder my giggles finally broke free. At least someone knew how to keep Merle under control… I felt more safe and comfortable about surviving with them.

“I’m sorry ‘bout him. He’s not polite as it is, and you’re the first woman he’s seen for months,” Daryl muttered. I chucked away the wipe, noting his arm was already dry from the intense heat.

“Don’t apologise for him,” I shrugged as I tore open a wrapper on a wide Band-Aid. I placed it over the largest graze on his bicep, pressing down hard to make sure it stuck to his skin. Daryl winced and I automatically withdrew my hands. “Is it really that sore?” I was just curious, so made sure my tone was sympathetic and not rude.

“I’ll be fine,” he said in a gruff voice. “I saw you were limping. You all right?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly while applying another bandage. “When Merle braked, I went straight into his dust cloud. Couldn’t see a damn thing, couldn’t breathe… I came off and strained my ankle.”

“No cuts?”

“Nah. Just can’t walk very well,” I told him with a grimace. That was a scary thought. What if we got into some sort of danger and I needed to quickly escape? I’d be a sitting duck.

“Can you ride?” Daryl wondered as I smoothed over the last bandage.

“Painfully…”

“We should camp then. I think we all need to rest,” he suggested before looking around. “We should get Merle to check out those rocks over there. Might be some shelter. Might be some animals to hunt.”

“Sounds good,” I agreed as I started to pack away my first aid gear. My stomach started to twist with the thought of food. With the promise of some fresh meat and an extra can, staying with the brothers seemed like it’d be worth it. I scanned Daryl’s bike for my bag of cans, but it was either not there or still concealed. Perhaps because they were injured I’d be able to nick it and leave…