Chapter Text
“I got a bad feeling about this.” Daryl leaned forward on the truck’s bench seat, peering through the cracked windshield at the small house sitting at the end of the cul-de-sac. The headlights flickered off as Merle cut the engine, leaving them in silence except for the soft ticking of the engine as the darkness settled over them like a lead blanket.
Merle leaned across Daryl’s knees to pop open the glove box and pull out his .45, digging through the mess of candy wrappers, empty cigarette packs and other crap to find a few bullets. Daryl watched him load the gun with that familiar sinking feeling in his stomach.
“Thought you said the house would be empty?” he asked.
“It is.” Merle slid the last bullet into the chamber and clicked it shut, the tip of his tongue working at the corner of his mouth as he attached the silencer.
“Then what the hell you need a gun for?”
“Just for a little insurance, that’s all.” Merle dug in his pocket and pulled out a small square of tin foil and a glass tube. “You gotta relax brother,” he mumbled around the tube dangling from between his teeth as he carefully opened the tin foil. “Have a hit before we go in, just to settle your nerves.”
“Hell no,” Daryl spat, crossing his arms over his chest and keeping his eyes locked on the dark house. “Don’t know why you keep smoking that shit. Makes you jumpy as hell and probably shrinks your balls too.”
Merle kept his thumb steady on the lighter, inhaling the thin stream of smoke as it drifted up. “Told ya, it relaxes me,” he choked out, holding the smoke deep in his lungs, “and my balls are just as big as ever. Wanna see?” He moved one hand toward his zipper.
“Fuck off,” Daryl muttered.
Merle chuckled and dropped the burnt tin foil on the floorboard at Daryl’s feet, ignoring the loud squeal from the truck’s door as he hopped out and shoved the gun into the waistband of his pants. When Daryl didn’t follow him, his brother leaned back into the cab, draping one arm casually over the steering wheel.
“Relax, man. It’s just like I told you. A quick in and out. Easy peasy. No muss, no fuss.”
Daryl let his head fall against the back window, the cool glass sending a shiver down the back of his neck. He didn’t know how his brother always managed to talk him into this kind of shit. He’d been doing it ever since they were kids when Daryl would steal cigarettes for Merle and his buddies down at the corner store once they’d gotten caught too many times to do it themselves.
“C’mon now, move your ass,” Merle urged. “Let’s get this done. You’ll be back home in your lazy boy with a six pack before you know it.”
Daryl turned and pushed the door open, doing his best to ignore the smug grin on his brother’s face as he pulled the duffle bag from the bed of the truck.
They slipped into the back yard easily enough. Every house on the street was dark except for the occasional blue glow from an upstairs window. Merle leaned against the casing on the back door while Daryl knelt down to work on the lock.
“Nice neighborhood, huh?” Merle mused, chewing on the toothpick that was tucked in the corner of his mouth.
Daryl just grunted in response. He really wasn’t in the mood for making small talk with his brother at the moment.
“Yep,” Merle continued. “Nice, but not too nice, you know? This is the type of place where you find the good shit. Not those goddamn McMansions down the road. Those fuckers are in debt up to their eyeballs. Never have shit that’s worth a damn.” He paused to spit off the porch. “Now, the folks around here, they’re the ones that got stacks of cash hidden in the floorboards, ya know? Don’t own nothing too fancy. Don’t like to show off.” He tapped one knuckle lightly against the glass of the sliding door next to Daryl’s head. “This prick’s one of them doomsday preppers. You know the type? Paranoid. Rich as hell but you’d never know it. A real asshole by the sound of it too.”
Daryl didn’t bother answering this time. It was a habit he’d fallen into over the years, seeing how long he could go without saying a word before his brother noticed. Merle mostly liked to hear himself talk, so it was an easy game to win.
In the brief silence, he listened for the soft click of the lock and slid the door open, carefully putting his tools back in the bag before they stepped inside.
Merle let out a low whistle as soon as they were through the door, his gaze roaming across the open living room and kitchen from the nearly empty countertops to the sofa with a small throw pillow tucked perfectly on each end. Even in the dim moonlight they could see that the white upholstery was spotless. Daryl hadn’t ever seen a house this clean in his life. It gave him the creeps.
“Alright, so where’s all this damn money?” he said, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other
“Hold you horses, little brother,” Merle said, sucking his teeth as he turned a slow circle in the middle of the room. “Give me a second to see how the other half lives, would ya?”
“We don’t got time for your Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous bullshit right now,” he said, brushing past his brother as he moved into the kitchen, searching for the door that would lead them into the attached garage. That’s where he’d keep his money if he had any- in a big ass gun safe bolted into the cement floor.
“Just ‘cuz your hillbilly ass can’t appreciate the finer things in life don’t mean you gotta bring me down to your level,” Merle said as he sauntered after Daryl, running his palm along the smooth edge of the granite countertops. “If it weren’t for me you’d still be living in that damn cabin out there in the backwoods.”
“I like that cabin,” Daryl mumbled, pulling open a door at the back of the kitchen and finding a pantry full of food instead of the garage he was hoping for. “Shit.”
Merle pushed past him and reached up to pull the chain on the small light fixture over their heads. It was clear that Merle was right about this guy being a prepper. The lower shelves were packed with cases of MREs and the upper shelves were stacked with rows and rows of jars, mostly home canned stuff, all neatly labeled by somebody with pretty cursive handwriting.
“Well, well,” Merle said, reaching for a large white ceramic canister near the back of the small room. “Let’s see what old Ed’s got in the cookie jar, shall we?” He pulled off the lid and reached inside, his face falling as he pulled out a cookie. “Dammit,” he said, taking a bite and throwing it back in the jar. “Oatmeal raisin too. Couldn’t even be chocolate chip.”
“Shhh,” Daryl whispered, holding up two fingers over his shoulder as he stepped back into the kitchen. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Merle asked in his normal voice.
Daryl leaned further into the kitchen, straining his ears to see if he’d hear it again. His brother had sworn up and down that the people who lived here would be gone all weekend, but he was pretty sure he’d just heard something.
“I told you man, there’s nothing to worry about.” Merle walked past him and started jerking open the cabinet doors two at a time. “The hardest part of this job is figuring out where the rich son of a bitch stashes the cash, so your ass better start looking. Cuz if you think I’m handing over thirty percent just for picking a damn lock you’re out of your…”
Merle’s rant was interrupted by another distinct thump from upstairs, this time followed by a stifled scream. The brothers locked eyes and Merle gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. It was a look that they’d shared more times than Daryl could count and he knew what it meant: Don’t get involved; Don’t try to fix it; Leave it alone or you’ll make it worse.
Daryl reached back and pulled the chain on the pantry light, plunging them back into darkness until their eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight again. They slipped quietly toward the sliding glass door where they’d come in and Daryl couldn’t help but marvel at how quiet his brother could be when he wanted to. There’d even been a time when Merle had been the better hunter; able to approach any quarry without letting so much as the sound of his own breathing scare it off. Of course all that changed after he enlisted in the army, returning with a new appreciation for long-range scopes and bigger ammo.
Merle paused when he reached the slider, turning back toward the living room and whispering. “Hold up a second.”
He slipped through the shadows back to the kitchen while Daryl waited, trying to ignore the sounds that were drifting down from upstairs. He knew those sounds better than anything. Could recognize them even if he had a pillow over his head and his fingers stuck in his ears. He needed to block it out. Focus on getting Merle and getting the hell out of this house. There’s nothing he could do anyway, even if he wanted to.
“Hey man, get that bag in here now.” Merle whispered triumphantly from across the room.
Daryl hurried back over to his brother, casting a quick glance upstairs as he passed the dark wood bannister. “What the hell are you doing? We need to get out of here.”
“Jackpot.” Merle stood in the light of the open freezer with a wicked smile. “I’m telling you, all these assholes are the same.”
When Daryl looked inside he saw the stacks of cash, carefully wrapped in layers of cellophane right there behind the bags of frozen peas and packages of ground beef. Merle was already grabbing the cash with both hands and stuffing it in the bag that hung loosely from Daryl’s hands.
There was a loud crash upstairs followed by the sound of heavy footsteps and they both stopped, eyes cast up to the ceiling as they waited to see if they needed to make a run for it. The thirty seconds of silence that followed were enough for Merle to finish emptying the freezer and zip up the duffel bag but Daryl’s feet were rooted to the floor.
“Let’s go,” Merle rushed back over to the slider, only pausing when he realized Daryl hadn’t followed him. “There ain’t nothing you can do,” he said firmly. “Gotta just let them work it out for themselves.” It was the same thing Merle used to say to him when he was a kid. When they would huddle together under a blanket and try to ignore the light fixtures rattling overhead from their old man’s rage.
His brother was right. There was nothing he could do to help. Even an anonymous call to 911 after they were gone wouldn’t do any good. He knew that from experience, when concerned neighbors would send the cops over to the Dixon place and they’d haul his dad off to jail for one night just so he could come home madder than a hornet the next day.
He took a step into the living room as another crash rattled the house and a voice roared from the top of the stairs.
“I said clean it up!”
There was a thud followed by a sharp gasp and a body came tumbling down the stairs to land at his feet. The woman’s white nightgown was illuminated by the moonlight where it pooled around her slight frame. She whimpered and started trying to push herself up, but immediately froze when she noticed him standing there. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, a strange mixture of fear and confusion flickering across her delicate features.
“Wha-?” she started, but before she could finish the thought, the man who had shoved her was on her again.
“You lazy bitch,” he bellowed, clambering down the stairs after her but stopping short once he caught sight of Daryl.
“Who the fuck are you?” he slurred. “What the hell are you doin’ in my house?”
Daryl stumbled backwards, tearing his eyes away from the woman huddled on the floor and turning to follow Merle out the door, but before he could take three steps, he was hit from behind, the weight of the other man pushing him to the ground. They wrestled for a few seconds, both of them trying to gain the upper hand, but when the hammer on Merle’s gun clicked, they both froze.
“Get up asshole.”
Ed immediately rose to his knees, his hands trembling as he put them over his head.
“Take whatever you want,” he blubbered. “Just don’t hurt me.”
Daryl stood up and grabbed the bag he’d dropped when Ed tackled him, sneaking a glance at the woman who was still sitting in the same spot, staring down at the floor. He’d only meant to look for a second, but when her eyes flickered up to meet his, he just kept staring, wondering if Ed’s rage over losing this money would somehow come back on her.
He was still staring at her when he heard a grunt and turned just in time to see Ed lunge at Merle’s legs, knocking him off balance with the unexpected move. They both tumbled to the ground and the gun skittered across the polished wood floor, coming to a stop at the base of the kitchen island. Daryl and the woman both dove for it, but she was faster, her fingers closing around the barrel as she pulled it out of his reach.
She flipped it around quickly, almost fumbling it in her attempt to get it pointed at his chest, but once she had it she didn’t waver. Her arms were shaking but her finger rested firmly on the trigger and he had no doubt she’d pull it if he tried anything. He raised his hands automatically, backing away toward the living room where Merle and Ed were still wrestling on the ground.
“Stop.” Her voice came out like leaves rustling on the forest floor, dry and crackling and quiet enough that the other men didn’t even pause.
She cleared her throat and tried again. “I said stop,” she repeated, this time loud enough that they looked up and pushed away from each other, scrambling to their feet while she kept the gun trained on Daryl.
Ed let out a surprised snort, almost doubling over with laughter once he’d taken in the situation. “Well goddamn girl. Turns out you are good for somethin’ aren’t you?”
She glanced nervously at Ed while stepping back to put a little more distance between herself and Daryl.
Merle took the opportunity to try to talk his way out of the situation. “Hold on now sugar,” he cooed. “Ain’t nobody got to die tonight, alright?” He kept his hands up in a show of surrender. “You got us. Now why don’t you put the gun down and my brother over there will drop that bag and we’ll all walk away from this.” His voice
was even and slow, doing his best not to spook her.
She pressed her lips together in a thin line but her eyes were still wide with fear, darting back and forth between the three men.
Merle took a hesitant step toward the door. “See now, everybody needs to just stay calm and we’ll be on our way, no harm done.”
“Don’t move,” she whispered, swinging the gun in Merle’s direction and adjusting her grip. “Please don’t move.”
Ed laughed again. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’ Carol? Shoot this asshole.”
Carol was squeezing the gun so tightly that Daryl could see her knuckles turning white and he wondered if he should try to take it from her. She looked like she might collapse any minute and there was a good chance her husband would just walk over and grab it, killing Daryl and Merle himself without a second thought.
“Easy now,” Merle continued moving toward the door, his voice was soft but Daryl could read his body language. He was getting ready to run. “Let’s just relax.”
Daryl’s own muscles tensed. There was a good chance Carol wouldn’t be able to hit them if they took off running, even at this short distance. It was obvious she wasn’t accustomed to guns and her nerves would get the best of her before she could get off a clean shot.
“Jesus Christ.” Ed sneered. “I said shoot him you dumb bitch!”
Carol took a shaky breath, squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head to the side, letting out a sob as she swung her arms around and pulled the trigger. There was a muted thwop and Ed stared at her wide-eyed, his lips forming a surprised O as he looked down at the red stain spreading out from the center of his white undershirt.
He dropped to the ground a second later and Carol followed suit, crumpling in on herself with deep, racking sobs.
The brothers stood there for a good minute before Daryl had the sense to creep forward, gently sliding the gun out of her reach before picking it up and tucking it into the back of his pants. She didn’t try to stop him. Just sat there in a heap, crying into her hands, her whole body shaking with each shuddering breath.
Daryl wanted to leave. He wanted to run as fast as he could away from this house and pretend like none of this had happened. Pretend that he hadn’t just watched a woman kill her husband. It wasn’t like the prick didn’t deserve it, but Daryl couldn’t help wondering what the hell she was gonna do now. It didn’t seem right to leave her here alone but he couldn’t stand to sit around and listen to her cry either. Then there was the uncomfortable fact that they’d been in the middle of robbing her and he still wasn’t sure if she was planning on calling the cops or not.
He looked at Merle for some kind of plan, but for once his brother looked just as dumbfounded as him. Daryl was still standing there, his thumbnail shoved between his teeth, trying to figure out what the hell to do, when another sound drifted down from the second floor. This time it was the soft creak of floorboards and a little girl’s voice.
“Mama?”