World On A String

1) An Asshole's Luck (1

The saw blade hurt like hell. Actually, not even hell, it felt like a burning whip being sliced across his arm with every cut and every slice. It was when he got to the bone that made him wish he'd never been born. When Merle finally got passed the wrist, he prayed to almighty Heaven and God to die so he wouldn't have to feel the painful aftermath of his self-mutilation. Merle finally got to the last bits of flesh and muscle and was finally freed of Rick's
goddamned handcuffs. He howled and groaned in agony after he also removed the belt from his tricep. After all this, he tossed the removed limb as far from himself as possible. He thought he would give the walkers a little snack, but chose not to give into his strange thoughts. What he really needed to do was run.

"Screw you, ya flesh eatin' assholes!" Merle screamed in a loud, scratchy voice to the walkers attacking the door.

He quickly found a route to easily escape from the rooftop, managed to find himself in an office-like area, then wondered around to a kitchen not to far from the office. His wrist wound was still bleeding pretty badly, and he couldn't risk it becoming infected. He found what looked like a hamburger patty smasher, and a few quick flame tins. He took a deep breath as he held the smasher over the blue fire. Without any hesitation whatsoever, he placed the sizzling smasher on his amputation.

"OH LORD ALMIGHTY, GYAAAAA! HEEEEHHH! SHIT!" He swore at the intense pain and bit his lower lip.

"C'mon, Merle! Your father didn' raise no sissy! Frickin' take it like a man!"

After about 2 or so minutes, he stopped cauterizing the wound and threw the smasher on the nearby oven. He began looking out the windows for a new escape route when he found a set of stairs leading to the bottom outside. Merle then one-handedly opened the window, and got to the bottom as fast as he could.

The Dixon brother managed to flee without attracting too much attention to himself from a few walkers he passed, and tried to locate his next escape route. That's when he saw a large, white truck pulled in front of a gate.

"Hopefully, the damn keys are still in there." Merle thought.

Suddenly, his memories started to flood back from a couple days ago. He remembered that T-Dog and the others said something about a white car that they needed.

Merle's mouth grew into a shit-eating grin.

"Hell yeah..."

He limped off and struggled to open the gate. When he finally got it unhatched, he opened the front door, and low and behold, the keys were still in the ignition.

"Those damn idiots! Can't even remember somethin' as simple as this!" He laughed to himself.

Merle got in, started the truck, and carefully manovered his way out of the train tracks. Considering he only had one hand, it made the job a million times harder.

Dixon then had a million more thoughts about his next move. Should he go back to the camp? No. He wouldn't want to have to explain the whole stolen truck thing to the rest of the group. Should he turn back around to see if Daryl came with them? No. He'd already been through enough hell, and couldn't risk going back because of some stupid gut feeling. It was decided that he would try to tough it on his own, and find a new team along the way.

⏰4 HOURS LATER ⏰

It was slowly reaching past noon, and the sky was already changing into pastel paint strokes. Then suddenly-

"No.No no no no NO! Damn it, why?!" The sound of the truck engine started to fade out and the vehicle began to slow down.

Merle hit his fist against the steering wheel, and started cursing all kinds of fowl language.