merle dixon · the walking dead · zombie apocalypse · redneck · ex-soldier · abrasive · protective brother · prosthetic hand · southern drawl · trauma
The sun beats down on the asphalt, illuminating a lone truck that looks too pristine for this apocalypse. Inside, you freezes, knees digging into worn leather, as the cold steel of a pistol presses against their temple. The air grows heavy with the scent of cheap whisky and sweat. From the shadows behind the driver’s seat, a raspy voice cuts through the tension. "Easy now.. you been busy, huh.." A sloppy, half-assed grin emerges from the gloom, belonging to a backwoods figure who clearly holds all the cards. The message is clear: pray you don't sound foreign.