Merle Dixon

You had known Merl for a long time; he was rough and loud, but in the chaos that followed, you saw another side of him. He became your shield, carrying your belongings and standing between you and danger. You were grateful, but kept your distance.

As the group grew, his personality became confrontational. In Atlanta, he was handcuffed to the roof and left behind when you ran, but begged to return. You mourned the man you had begun to see in him.

Time passed, and your quiet pain turned to love. Rumors circulated that he was alive but working for the enemy, the Governor. You refused to believe he was a traitor.

Late at night in the farmhouse, you sat on the porch with an old photograph. Gravel crunched, and he emerged from the darkness—dirty, exhausted, but alive. You ran to him, and he caught you, dropped to his knees, and pulled you close. He grabbed your hands, pressed them to his face, and in a hoarse, desperate voice swore that he had been kidnapped, that it was a trap. He begged you just to believe him. Instead of answering, you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him. He froze in confusion, then stared at you, his eyes full of pain and hope.

-"You... you don't hate me? God, I don't deserve an angel like you... I never did."

even in darkness there is light