Hey there!

I posted this story before, but it got really choppy and I split it into four different stories and *sigh* I needed it all in one place again, and also I needed to rewrite a lot of pieces. So I'll be posting the full thing here from now on, a few chapters a day. For people who read the original - there's some big changes. Eg Bethany Marks is now Abby Marks basically because of the confusion with Beth Greene.

Reviews are happily accepted and encouraged :)

Chapter One: We're Gonna Be Fine

Kylie-Jane Creek

In the beginning, we were clueless.

We didn't know what we were getting into - what we were going to face in the year to come. But we brought out the big guns, anyway, and prepared for the worst. Well, it's the south, is there any other way?

We got our information from scattered sources, a friend here, neighbor there.. radio stations were our main connection to the rest of the world. People didn't really have a clue what it was, though. It was just a big game of Chinese whispers. I mean, how could we know? The dead were up and walking, it wasn't as if we had been trained for this. It crumbled us.

And look at us, now? I'd make a guess that just over 90% of the population was dead. Walking or not. Hell, I knew that probably better than anyone. I'd just lost so much over the course of that first year. We all had.. This world was brutal. It was devastating. And the worst part wasn't even the dead, but the peoples' reactions to it. We were thrown back to our roots again. Fighting over food and water and territory. We were reminded what it means to be human. That's all we had left.. Being human. Everything else was dust in the wind.

It wasn't even about surviving, either. Sure, for a while there, all I could think about, all any of us could think about, was where we'd get our next meal, where we were going to sleep, who was going to stand guard. Now? We were trying to win back our world, win back our way of life, our culture... Our humanity. Those memories were all we had. The little slivers of ourselves that we'd nearly lost completely. Now was our time to win it back.

I remember that first day, probably clearer than all the others. Because that's when it really started, for me. Not to news reports, the strange injuries turning up in the ER, or the government cover-ups. (Yeah, "swine flu" my ass.) For me, the end of the world started the first time I saw a corpse get up and walk again. Two weeks after the disease went Global.

Day 14

I was lying on the couch in the living room of my little blue and white country home in King County, Georgia. My casted leg was propped up on pillows, and I itched at it absently, staring at the TV. I looked up as my weary fiance walked into the room.

"Hey," I smiled up at him, "You think you could pass me the remote?" I asked in a sweet voice. He picked it up without a word and tossed it on the couch next to me. He sighed, and flopped down into the armchair, five billion miles away from me. I watched him carefully while he glared at the TV, the credits for 'SWAT' playing on the screen. A ticker tape ran across the bottom of the screen talking about the new virus that everyone was getting cooped up in hospitals because of for the past two weeks.

"You gonna change the channel," He said flatly, not looking at me. I turned my head back to the TV and set the remote down again.

"Changed my mind." I muttered. He didn't say anything. I looked over at him again and studied his face, his features set into a permanent scowl. I had no idea what was wrong with him. The day went by as it usually did… Merle slept in till 3pm on the couch and then woke up with a hangover - which I'd fix with coffee and cold pizza. Daryl and I would wake up early and make breakfast together - well, Daryl would burn the shit out of pancakes trying to keep me off of my injured leg and I'd get annoyed and shove him aside. I'd call Abby Marks - my best friend, and Merle's girlfriend - and chat for five hours until either Daryl wanted me or Merle wanted to talk to her. Then in the evening Daryl and I would retreat to the bedroom and mess around or watch a movie.

Today, we were settling down and watching credits in awkward silence, and this morning Daryl had gotten up before me and served freaking stupid toast for breakfast before disappearing out in the woods for four hours with his damn brother. I mean, toast.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked, eyes burning marks into the side of his face, my southern accent coming out stronger the more ticked off I got. He shrugged his shoulders. "Really," I said, "I kind of want to know what's wrong with you today."

"It's nothin'." He mumbled, still looking at the TV. He was starting to piss me off, now. I grabbed the remote and flicked off the TV.

"Talk to me." I snapped. "Please."

He stood up without a word and started to leave the room. My heart dropped. He really was mad at me.

"Daryl," I whispered his name slowly. "Stay." He turned and looked at me then, the look on his face cold and harsh. "What did I do?" I asked.

He looked away, eyes falling somewhere else, and opened his mouth to say something.

He was interrupted by several gunshots from the front yard.

Daryl disappeared, sprinting to the porch through the side door. I struggled to sit up to see what was going on. My crutches were leaning against the couch and I grabbed onto them, trying to lift myself up.

"Merle!" I heard Daryl shout for his brother, "Merle what the hell?"

I heard Abby scream as more shots rang out, and that was it, I pulled myself up and quickly maneuvered my way to the front door.

"Daryl!" I called as I reached the front porch. I took in the scene in front of me. Merle was standing with a shotgun in his hands, Abby cowering behind him. Daryl stood gobsmacked on the front porch, staring at the pile of dead bodies a few feet from the barrel of Merle's gun.

"Merle!" Daryl shouted. I hobbled up to him, gripping his shoulder for support. He locked his arm around my waist to hold me up and kept shouting. "What the fuck, man!"

"What..." I started. "What's going on?"

Abby started crying then. "What was that?" She asked in a shaky voice, "What was that?"

Merle turned around and put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close.

"Get your shit, girl, we're leavin'." He ordered. She nodded and ran off into the house past Daryl and me. Merle looked up at us as he reloaded his shotgun. "Crazy som' bitches tried to eat me." He told us. "Was chompin' down on that poor bastard next door when I found 'em."

"What?" My voice cracked. Did he just- he just killed those people! "Merle what the fuck are you on this time?!"

"Don't give me that Miss Kylie," He yelled back, "Go take a fuckin' look for yourself!"

He nodded to a body to his left and my stomach did a complete flip inside out.

It was Justin Rivers, the kid from next door... but if Merle hadn't told me it was him, I wouldn't have guessed in a million years. His face was ripped apart, jaw hanging off and drenched in thick red blood. His chest - what was left of it - consisted of a huge gaping hole where his ribs and organs should have been. His arm was completely dismembered and thrown carelessly a few feet from the body. The kid was only 19. He used to mow our lawn. I had to look away or I was going to see that stupid toast again.

"Jesus Christ." I sobbed. I pulled myself closer to Daryl and he kissed the top of my head.

"Imma go help Abby," He said, "Merle's right. We're leavin'. Now."

I nodded and he let me go. I held on to the porch railing for support, my broken ankle deciding to send shocks of pain up my leg.

"Fuck." I muttered, scrunching up my face.

"C'mere," Merle said, "Get your ass in the truck."

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" I asked, shooting him an annoyed glare.

He chuckled. Abby appeared behind me, carrying a hell of a load of stuff in her arms.

"Babe can you help me?" She asked. Merle rolled his eyes and took half of her stuff, dumping it onto the ground beside Daryl's pickup. He said something to her and ran off to the side yard. She turned around and ran back to the house, leaving me alone outside.

"This is the part where Ashton Kutcher jumps out with a camera, right?" I said aloud, laughing at myself.

"Kyle," Daryl's voice mumbled from behind me, making me jump. "Really?"

I smiled innocently up at him and he rolled his eyes. "Here," He said, "Gotta carry you."

I didn't argue as he picked me up and walked me over to the pickup. I kept my eyes on his face so I didn't have to see the dead bodies. He opened the cab door and helped me climb in, tossing me the keys.

"Start her up and check the radio stations," He said, "I'll be right back."

I nodded and did as I was told as he started to walk away.

"Daryl?" I called to him. He stopped and turned around.

"Yeah?"

"I'm fucking scared."

He walked back over and kissed me, his hands cupping my face. "Hey. We're gon' be fine."

I nodded, "If you say so."

I picked up the keys with shaky hands and started the pickup, the truck roaring to life. I started flipping through stations as Daryl and Merle climbed into the bed of the truck and started loading in boxes of supplies.

"Getting anythin'?" Daryl asked through the back window.

"Sort of," I told him.

"-Keep away from the infected, do not get bit-"

"-authorities are telling people not to worry-"

"-The president has issued-"

"-refugee centers set up all over the state-"

"-the situation is being controlled-"

"-are starting to suspect that the disease has gone global-"

I switched off the radio. Daryl's eyes were wide. "Damn."

"Yeah, I know. So that means it's bigger than just us..? Whatever it is?"

He nodded, face hard and locked in a grimace. "Guess so."

"But don't you think the cops can handle a few freaks?" I started shaking. "I mean, right?"

"Invincible man-eatin' freaks!" I heard Merle shout from behind me.

"What?" He gestured his gun at one of the bodies. Involuntarily I looked at it, wincing.

"Fuckin' spic right there took a round in the chest and kept movin'." He muttered. "Wasn't till I shot the sum'bitch in the head that it stayed down."

"Jesus Christ."

A moment later they had all gone off in separate directions, getting food and clothes and any medical supplies - under my advisement - that they could find. Merle and Daryl wanted us to find one of those refugee camps and get to safety. I heard 'Kellie Pickler - Red High Heels' singing from my pocket and picked up my phone, seeing a familiar name pop up on the screen.

"Josh!"

"You okay?" I smiled at the familiar voice of Josh 'Tiny' Kovalchik, a member of the unit I was attached to in the US Marines, and a good friend.

"Yeah, yeah, we're fine. What the hell's going on?"

"I don't know yet. Me and the guys were ordered in for a briefing. Something big is going down. You seen the freaking streets? Full of 'em."

"Yeah, we had a run in with a few out here. Killed my neighbor! My freaking 19 year old neighbor!"

"Yeah, Rowdy thinks it's Satanists or something."

"Invincible Cannibal Satanists in the center of the bible belt, that's all we fucking need."

"I know." He sighed. "Remember to always get a headshot. And don't let them bite you, either, Kylie."

"Well no shit, Josh."

"Seriously. If you get bit... you get infected."

"What do you mean, infected?"

"You turn into one of them."

"Tiny, that doesn't make any sense man-"

"Just trust me." He interrupted. "Now look, I gotta go, we're headed to the CDC. They're working on a cure. Try and meet up with us at some point. Josh out."

He hung up and I sat there staring at the phone for what felt like hours. Infected? Like this thing was a disease? That didn't make any sense... I mean it was just a bunch of cultists or something, they couldn't actually influence you by biting you, that was impossible. And something else bothered me, how the heck could they be invincible? How could they survive a shot in the chest from Merle and keep going?

"MERLE!" Abby's blood-curdling scream ripped across the yard. I sat up and saw my best friend standing on the porch, screaming like a madwoman and covering her mouth.

Justin was up and walking.

No, not kidding. The kid was walking. He was dead and he was walking.

Jaw hanging loose from his head, moaning a low guttural growl, hole through his chest - where I could see through the other side - and he was walking, limping, but still, slowly moving...

Towards the open door of the damn pickup.

"Shit!" I screamed. I leaned forward and tried to shut the door but he reached it before I could and tried to grab for my arm. I used my good leg to plant a hard kick into a remaining part of his chest, making him stumble back a bit. I shuffled back and reached for the glove box, scrambling for something to kill him with. My hands brushed against the handle of a combat knife, and I grabbed it, sliding it out of its holster and bringing it to Justin in one fluid movement.

"I'm sorry, kid." I muttered, and kicked him back again at the chest, his head jolting forward from the impact, just enough so I could stick the knife into the top of his head, right down to the hilt. It was a signature move, and Justin loved hearing stories about me and my team in Iraq. The irony made me feel sick to my stomach.

He stopped groaning and fell backwards, slipping down the side of the truck and onto the ground, his head still resting on the floor of the truck. I scooted forward, leaning over to take hold of my knife, kicking his head with my good leg so it slid out. I bit my lip as I wiped the blood off on the kid's shirt and kicked the body to the ground.

"What the hell's goin' on?" Daryl and Merle appeared around the corner.

"Where were you five seconds ago?" I yelled. "Justin got up and tried to fucking eat me!"

"What?"

"He walked!" Abby yelled. "He actually got up and walked!"

"Wahahoo looks like we've got ourselves s'more walkers," Merle said, pointing around the other side of the truck to the road. I followed his gaze and automatically wished I hadn't. Okay, so I've seen dead people. Hell, most of them I killed myself. But seeing dead people, up... and walking?

There was another three of those things - 'walkers', as Merle called them, walking down the street, groaning and dripping blood.

"Get in the house!"

"Kylie lock the doors!" I looked at Daryl and decided not to argue, reaching and closing both doors, making sure they locked. I watched out the window as Daryl carefully walked around the truck. He'd brought his hunting crossbow out now and was picking off the 'walkers' one by one. He'd get them in the chest, but they'd shrug it off and keep moving, arrows sticking out of their chests. I remembered what Josh said and quickly rolled down the window.

"Daryl! Headshots! It's the only way they'll go down!"

He didn't hesitate to change tactics, arrows strategically in each walker's forehead. They hit the ground hard, a sickening splattering noise echoing with each kill. The last one dropped and Merle and Daryl stood there, breathing hard.

"Well, ain't that a charmer." Merle muttered, nudging one of the bodies with his foot.

"Need to move these outta the way," Daryl said, "Gotta get the truck out."

"Yeah, Abby's car, too," Merle said, "She won't leave it behind."

Daryl shook his head. "Can't she take the Camaro?" He asked, "I like it better."

Merle shrugged. "My bitch loves her Mini."

Daryl sighed and he opened the door to the truck, climbing in beside me.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"City," He said, "See what the fuck's happenin'."

"You think it's that bad?" I asked, "Those.. Things?"

He didn't speak, just had this pained look on his face. I shivered and dug my phone from my pocket, punching through the buttons to my contact list.

"What you doin'?"

"Calling my sister."

I pressed the phone to my ear as it dialled.

"Hello?" A man's voice answered.

"Um, hi?" I asked. "Where's Lori?"

"She's here," spoke the man's voice, "Who's this?"

"I'm her step-sister, Kylie. Who is this? Is she okay?"

"Shane Walsh, a friend of Rick's. Lori's fine.. So's Carl. Listen, where are you?"

"Oh, yeah, Shane. We're at my place, just down the road... are you at Lori's?"

"We're heading out of town. You should, too."

"Is it that bad?"

"Yeah. Lookin' like it."

"What about Rick?"

"They said they were evac-in' the patients to Atlanta," Shane said, "That's where I'm takin' Lori and Carl. S'pposed to be a refugee center there."

"Guess we'll be headed that way, too, then." I said.

Daryl waved for me to give him the phone and he got the directions, shouting out the window for Merle to follow us. We hopped on the road into town and I watched as Daryl swerved to avoid a few of those dead things as they reached out for the truck.

It was going to be a long night.