Merle Dixon Fan Fiction: The In Between-Part 1

The hot Georgia sun beat down on Merle's back as he stretched and struggled to reach the small hand saw just beyond his fingertips.  The sound of hungered groans forcing him to push himself harder to the point that he literally felt his shoulder begin to dislocate.  Looking up toward the door, he could see the rotting fingertips wedging their way out onto the scorching rooftop.  "You ain't gettin' me!" he yelled. "You hear me?  I'm nobody's dinner!"
The growls grew louder at the sound of Merle's voice and he jumped  propelling his body the small distance needed to latch his fingertip over the handle of the saw.  "Alrighty now, that's it.  Come to daddy"  Merle's face lights up victoriously as he maneuvers the saw toward him.  "No dead freaks gonna get me."  He grasps the handle and slides back out from under the water pipe he was handcuffed to.  "Wait til I get my hands on that pig." he growls as he sits up and moves the saw over the chain of the handcuff. "Leave me here like an animal tied on a leash? I'll put him on a leash and tie it to the back of my bike.  A nice drive through downtown Atlanta will show him not to mess with me."  He smiles at the thought and begins to move the blade of the saw back and forth across the chain. 
After a few moments, Merle's smile fades away when he realizes the chain is unaffected.  He glances back up at the stairwell door and a set of deadened eyes peer back through the still chained doorway.  "What are you lookin' at?" Merle yells as he tries even harder to cut himself free of the handcuff.
The sun's heat combined with the extra effort begin to take its toll on Merle as his vision blurs for a second.  With his free hand, he rubs his eyes until his vision clears.  "I told you freaks.  I AIN'T SUPPER"
The door rattles loudly as even more of the undead begin to press against it from the stairwell.  Merle's eyes race around the rooftop and then back over to the contents of the tool bag spilled on the ground.  "Think Merle"  He bangs the palm of his free hand to his forehead as he tries to think of an escape plan.  "Think Dammit!  You ain't going out like this....THINK!"
The saw still in his grip, knicks across Merle's forehead and gashes a small line into his skin.  "SHIT!" he scowls and drops the saw at his side.  He rubs his hand against the warm trail of blood he feels rolling down his face and laughs.  "Stupid piece of shit saw"  He looks at the blood on his hand and then down to the saw. "Sure.  Now you'll cut." he shakes his handcuffed hand causing it to rattle against the pipe.  "You won't cut the god dam cuff but you'll cut me."
The growling from the stairwell intensifies in response to the added noise from the rattling chain.  Merle looks at the nearby threat and his eyes move over to his hand locked into the cuff before looking down to the saw.  "You'll work on me...but not the cuff"  He shakes his head as he looks back up at the doorway again. "No" still shaking his head as he looks around the rooftop desperately as the idea formulates in his head.  "What else choice do I got?"  he questions himself out loud.  "Sit here and be a freak buffet?"
As if on cue, a loud bang comes from the doorway as it is pressed aggressively from within the stairwell.  Several arms grabbing wildly into the free rooftop air as the increasing crowd of undead tries to force down the barrier between them and their meal.  "Ah hell no!" Merle exclaims as he quickly unbuckles his belt and begins to pull it from the loops of his worn jeans.  He runs through his plan in his head as he tries to remember all the survival skills he's learned in his lifetime. 
He takes one last look over at the doorway before solemnly nodding his head with defiance in his eyes.  "You aren't finishing me"
Swiftly, Merle wraps the belt around his forearm and straps it tight to cut off the circulation to his restrained hand.  Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a small wallet and puts it into his mouth before biting down hard.  He laughs insanely to himself when he notices the discoloration of his fingers and realizes the similarity to the fingers trying to claw their way through the stairwell door and into his skin.  "Ain't that a bitch?" he chuckles through clenched teeth as he lifts the saw and presses it to his numbing wrist.