The Walking Dead - Dixon Bloodfall (A Walking Dead ff)

Chapter Two - The Quiet Days

      Quinn was afraid when she woke up. For the first time in ages she was up before sunrise, awoken from a slumbering nightmare of her mother’s face, strewn with blood and twisted with death’s bitter decay, looming after her through an abandoned Woodbury. She called her name in two voices curled together, a monster’s and her mother’s. She pushed the curtain of her window and looked outside. The moon hung overhead without a cloud blocking it’s luminescent aura. The roads were empty, but she could see stirring behind the windows of the houses closest to her. Clad in one of Merle’s many hand-me-down flannel shirts he had given her over the course of their friendship, she tiptoed out of her room and towards his. Hopefully he wasn’t awake yet. All Merle had said was tomorrow, that this 'escape', for lack of a better term, would be happening tomorrow. No time was mentioned. He did have a habit of waking up early and vanishing for hours to do the Governor’s work, but today had to be different. She gripped the handle but the door was already open, sliding further open just a bit from the pressure. Quinn pushed it completely to see his bed filled with a half-assed attempt at making a human-shaped pillow body. She sighed, walking over sleepily and shoving one of the pillows off. “Did you honestly expect that to fool me?”

She had decided to make herself breakfast since Merle wasn’t there to pitch a fit if he didn’t get what he wanted. The last “supply run” they were on had gotten the town a healthy amount of frozen meat, ranging from bacon to pork to beef patties, and Merle was so damn proud of getting a nicely sized portion of the bacon for himself. He always had to have three pieces for breakfast, and when Quinn began rationing them so she could save herself a morsel, he pitched a fit worthy of a disgruntled prom queen. At least she could have a strip without a look from him at the table. “Never even a thank you.” She mumbled as she popped her small meal in the microwave. Another thing Merle didn’t like, nuked bacon.

It did unnerve her, however, eating alone at the table. She couldn’t remember a morning where Merle hadn’t been complaining about the gays or the blacks with a mouth full of half-chewed food, not acknowledging the fact there weren’t much of either left in the world. There wasn’t much left of anybody but Merle still found a bone to pick with the dwindling population. No, this morning was quiet and lonely and it left her wondering where he was. This didn’t last for long though, she refused to dwell on negative thoughts and went to walk around the town. Waste time, she thought, until Merle needs you. That’s what I usually do anyway.

Hours later and that son of a bitch still wasn't back. It had been half a day and there was still no sign of him. She cursed herself and him for a good five minutes before she eventually cooled down, sitting in the wicker chair on their front porch with an obvious scowl on her face. She had thought for sure he would've taken her with.

 Then again, Merle never was very truthful. He’d get in these moods periodically, where he’d just shut her out completely and leave for days, often lying about what, why, and where. Quinn had nobody else to talk to and would realize in his absence that her entire world revolved around him. If he wasn’t there, the day wasn’t a day, and time seemed to stand still. It made her nervous and yet, it was reality now. Still slightly irate, Quinn decided to make an effort to involve herself in Woodbury. Months now and she had not developed a single relationship outside of the Dixon boy, and she feared, as she neared a couple conversing on the street, that she wouldn’t remember how to.

 “Hi.” She said weakly, her inadequacy in social situations clear in her voice. They turned to her, the female smiling, the male not.

 “Hey there.” The woman said, her voice just as kind as her smile. It was then Quinn recognized the blonde, as she had seen her many times around Merle. She figured she was a 'piece of ass', as he often put it, that he was after. Merle was always flirtacious around her. “How are you, Quinn?”

 “I’m - good, I guess. Can’t find Merle.” She felt sheepish she couldn’t remember her name, and her brown eyes could no longer remain in contact with her blue ones. The male excused himself and said her name briefly, Andrea. He too began to seem vaguely familiar as he wandered off.

 “I saw him with the Governor a few hours ago, seemed a little too important to pop in right now, sweetheart. I’ll tell him you’re lookin’ for him though. Milton’s actually going there right now.” Her hand drifted towards the aforementioned man, limply indicating his identity. Andrea’s tone seemed to soften as her sentence came to an end, and one hand found itself on Quinn’s shoulder. “How come I’ve never seen you outside before? There’s other kids your age here; a school, even. I mean it’s not mandatory, but -”

 “I like to stay inside.” She mumbles quietly. She was nowhere as brave as her caretaker, but something about Andrea made her nervous. Quinn wasn’t used to compassion, to a tender voice, to caring. Merle did, but in his own loud, brash way. The thought of somebody caring about her, even briefly, shattered her self confidence. It reminded her too much of her mother, of the life before this one. “Merle brings me books, teaches me how to kill Walkers, shoot a gu-”

 “Merle lets you shoot?” The sudden high pitch in Andrea’s tone caught her off guard, bringing their eyes to one another again. “How old are you? You’re just a kid, you aren’t some child soldier. Merle shouldn’t be teaching you to shoot.”

 “Don’t say anything, please? It was only once, and for good reason too.” Quinn wriggled out of Andrea’s grip. “I won’t do it again, if it makes it better.” Though her tone was quiet and her body language spoke childish submission, like often a scolded child would, the thoughts in her mind were anything but. What right did this woman have to tell her what to do? Or Merle, for that matter?

 “No, it doesn’t.” Andrea let her hands drift to her hip. She’d make a good mother, Quinn notes silently.  Whether or not that's a good thing is unclear. “That’s why we have guards, adults trained to shoot. I’m gonna talk to him about it.”

 An altercation, far in the direction that Milton had wandered off in, brought Andrea’s attention away for a brief moment. “I have to -” She runs off quickly, allowing Quinn the privilege of relaxing. Her shoulders lower and she sighs, her hand raising and clenching the bridge of her nose. She decided she was unsure of Andrea, and would ask Merle about her, whenever he came back. Now left alone, awkwardly standing in the streets, she rubbed over the palm of her right hand with the thumb of her left. A nervous tick that she failed to grow out of.

A few children, from what she gathered were a year or so younger than her, waved her down from the opposite side of the street. One held a ball, another a makeshift baseball bat, and the third held nothing. You need friends anyway, Quinn. Go have fun.