Disclaimer: Don't own Walking Dead

AN: Here it is. The first chapter of my Walking Dead series. This is a project I always wanted to do and now I finally have the will. There's a prequel to this on my page, so go on over to start at the very beginning.

The plot for this will essentially be my own take on The Walking Dead show. We'll have some characters live longer, some die sooner, some new enemies for the group to face, expansions on some events and so much more. It's gonna be a fun ride I wanna share with you guys.

Chapter 1- Another Day, Another Kill

A rabbit scurried from its hole in the middle of a forest terrain, shaking its body to throw away the dirt clamped down onto its brown fur. The morning sun beat down through the spaces between the tree branches, illuminating the area around the large rabbit and beaming a light down its rabbit hole. Its nose puckered while its eyes scanned around the vicinity for anything it can use for food for its young. If the rabbit knew how, it would've sighed at the ever growing sight of sticks and leaves as far as anything can see.

The rabbit slowly hopped down through the forest, its feet thumping on the many sticks and leaves without a single shred of care in the world. Its ears perked up when it heard something move in the bushes next to it. The rabbit halted its movement, eyes focusing intensely on that same spot while the furry animal waited for the first sign of danger so it could run to safety. Again, if the rabbit could, it would sigh in relief when nothing exited from the bushes.

When its guard fell, a whooshing sound echoed in the silent forest before something sharp hit the rabbit in the neck; ending its life before it got a chance to know that the end was here.

Out from the bushes where the arrow imbedded in the rabbit came from was a man with a crossbow and a look of small victory on his rough face. He was limping slightly, his right knee bent forward a little more than it should've normally been.

"Gotcha you son-of-a-bitch," he nodded as he walked forward to claim his prize. He felt the uncomfortable feeling in his knee surge back, but he did his best to ignore it. "Merle, come on out. Got breakfast here."

Stepping out of the bushes where the rabbit had its final staring match was a man a little older than the crossbow bearer. Instead of a bow, he had a rifle in his hands. His face had a grin that only spelled trouble.

"Atta boy, Daryl! Was two seconds away from firing on the critter myself." Merle glanced at the freshly killed rabbit that dangled from Daryl's hands like a yo-yo. "Kinda small for the both of us..."

Daryl tied the rabbit with a piece of string before attaching the dead animal to his side. "It's only the beginning of the day, jackass. We'll find more. If there's only one thing I'm decent at, it's hunting." Scratch that, he considered himself top of the fuckin' line when it came to hunting. He just didn't like to stroke his ego like Merle very well loved to do. It was one of their many differences.

Merle shrugged. "Can't argue there, boy." He agreed. He turned back so he faced the direction where he came from. "Come on. Let's continue our morning hunt." Merle walked towards and disappeared into the bushes from which he came. Daryl pulled lightly on the knot to test its strength before following after his brother.

Once they left, two small bunnies exited the hole where Daryl and Merle's breakfast came from not five minutes earlier. They looked around for their mother, not finding a trace. As if the world wanted them to know, the same beam of light that flew down their hole vanished behind the clouds, allowing for a new one to shine down towards the puddle of blood that rested in the open like an exhausted man on a comfortable bed.

The two bunnies slowly made their way to the blood. Once they made it, their black eyes sparkled as the two barely baby bunnies realized what had happened. They could only lie down in their fallen mother's wet blood as they were left alone to face the dangerous world.

...

Daryl smirked when his arrow landed smoothly in the squirrel's chest area, scoring him and Merle even more food for the day. They were about four days away from Atlanta. If all went well, Daryl probably wouldn't have to do much hunting anymore. If the stories on the radio were true, the city would be well stocked and filled to the brim with supplies. He could take a load off and maybe live however long he had left in some form of peace.

Although now that he thought about it, he would need to still play babysitter for Merle while there. Unlike when they were out here keeping busy, Merle would have to mingle in a stable society with authority and more people. He groaned. Shit. Now he was running through very likely scenarios that ended with them getting kicked out of Atlanta and right back here. Daryl sighed. Oh well, he'll cross that bridge when and if they got there.

He stepped forward to claim his sixth squirrel for the day. Judging by the sun, it was a little past noon. He and Merle had been camping out by their truck parked on the road next to the forest. After their raid on the clinic a few days back, they hadn't run into anything worth noting. A few Walkers here and there kept their blood pumping, but it wasn't anything to really write home about.

He bent down to take the dead squirrel, gritting his teeth at the familiar pain in his right knee. He got on his good knee for a second to allow the other one to rest. Merle and his asshole antics. Daryl would be lucky if this thing didn't get him killed by tomorrow. He definitely had his close calls so far, but he was still here. If Merle's Dukes of Hazard driving ended up indirectly causing Daryl to die from his knee injury, he would make sure to shoot the ugly bastard in his so he could go through what he was.

He should really take some more of Merle's pills. It might've not have taken all his pain away, but it definitely did wonders to help him be able to walk normally.

Once he felt his knee got enough rest, he stood back up with his squirrel held in his left hand; his crossbow dangling in his right. Hearing leaves crackle, he quickly turned his head to see a Walker, female and young, stumble out from behind the base of a tree. Daryl could see her brown hair was covering the right side of her face, probably glued down by the sweat and blood that her body must've produced before she literally bit it. What really made Daryl feel sick was the middle school uniform she had on, indicating just how old she was.

Daryl, since Merle was guarding camp, let out a pained gasp.

"Fuck..." He breathed out slowly as the tiny schoolgirl shimmied towards the younger Dixon, her small teeth clenched together and biting for him. Seeing as there was enough space between them, he pulled the arrow from his squirrel, rested the dead animal comfortably in his waistband, reloaded his bow, and took aim.

"Sorry, baby girl..." He apologized as his arrow soared from his crossbow to the forehead of the little girl, her tiny form falling to his feet like someone dropped a truck onto her back. Daryl took a second to compose himself before he bent down again to take his arrow back. Only instead of taking it from food, he was taking it from another Walker from his long list of poor bastards and now little girls that he put down.

Daryl had done some bad shit before. From shoplifting to doing drugs, he had done it all. But this? This made him feel worse than the time he first tried pot and boy was that a bad time for him.

He stared down to the dead little girl before he walked away perfectly fine, the pain in his head and chest outmatching the pain in his knee and making him temporarily forget.

He really hoped Atlanta wasn't a bullshit rumor.

He couldn't do this everyday.

...

Daryl poked the flames with a stick he picked up from the ground. It was still early afternoon, so he and Merle decided that they would chow down on some of the animals that Daryl had snagged. The truck they were driving in was parked on the side of the road, the driver's side open so they can jump right in and go if they needed to. Daryl could tell Merle was leaning against the back of the truck, admiring his bike that he wasn't driving to conserve some gas. That and because a high-as-a-kite Merle driving would result in one or both of them dead. Daryl repressed a shiver when the sound of Merle sniffing up some coke came through his eardrums. He was really doing this now? Whatever. It was fine around here for the time being.

Daryl ate some of the squirrel he caught earlier, poking and prodding the flames so the animal cooked right and wouldn't be gone to waste. A repeat of Merle's 'careful' watch of the cooking meat a few days ago was something Daryl would love to avoid. Half a deer... Gone. Gone because Merle found it hilarious to throw and pop pills in his mouth like some asshat clown from a carnival.

"Boy!" Daryl barely raised his head to acknowledge Merle's calling of his attention. "Food ready yet?" Daryl barely held back a roll of the eyes. Merle and his impatience was already a hindrance before the world ended. Nowadays where even sneezing at the wrong time got you killed, Merle's calling of unwanted and unneeded attention made Daryl eager to learn how to sew just so he could seal Merle's mouth shut.

Daryl prodded the squirrel with a few more pokes before he decided it was cooked well enough. He carefully took one of the two squirrels out by stabbing it with the stick he was holding. He held it towards Merle, who took it rather greedily from his younger brother. Daryl shook his head at Merle's ruthless eating of the animal before he used a second stick he had resting by his leg to take his own squirrel.

The next few minutes or so were empty with only the quiet sounds of the two Dixon's eating their respective squirrel. Merle would occasionally mumble something on how dead squirrel meat tasted much better than any fancy dinner those rich assholes had in what they had dubbed "Money Grubbing Rich White Asshole" Atlanta. Daryl found it funny how they didn't really care for the city, but now they were risking their asses to get there. Well, it was either that or die, so...

Daryl guessed he should've been honored that Merle thought his cooking of a squirrel was better than any fancy dinner, but he was high when he said it. Anything Merle says while high can be checked off quite understandingly in the 'Ignore' column.

"Hey," Merle started talking again. "I was thinking..." Okay, that was already a bad sign. "When we get to Atlanta, how's about we don't stay." Daryl pretended to be ignoring him, but he was listening very carefully. This was a rare occurrence where what Merle said would matter on what happens next. "The army is gonna be there, guarding the place and keeping the order of things, right? If anyone's there who knows about me, they'd lock me up in jail again. And I ain't going back."

Daryl sighed, though it came very close to sounding like a growl. "I told you, you idiot, the military don't give a shit about you no more." He thought he buried this back at Firesign Stadium. Back when Merle, admittedly, saved his ass from a whole army of Walkers with an Army Jeep. The same army jeep he drove while high and ended up crashing into a tree like some damn fucked up game of bumper carts. Merle was lucky his bike survived the crash and that they did as well, though Daryl's knee was banged up rather well from the impact.

Merle scoffed, "Yeah right. They's probably have my picture stationed over there like some kind of terrorist watchlist."

"Man, what'd you do that they would even go out of their way to go after you in the middle of the apocalypse? I thought you's got arrested for your biker gang deeds?" At least, that's what Daryl assumed. Merle might've driven their asses up to Jake's Bar for his stash, but he went out of his way to go after his gang, specifically Ash, for ratting him out. Merle was a crazy motherfucker, but he didn't come after you unless you really fucked him over.

Merle nodded. "Yeah... But it was something I did while still President of the club. Something involving me and an officer..."

Daryl's eyes narrowed. He stopped eating what was left of his squirrel to let that sentence hang over his head. Merle was waiting for him to figure it out, enjoying implementing a guessing game into figuring out his fucked up deeds. Said something about keeping Daryl sharp. More like it kept Daryl pissed and frustrated that Merle couldn't just take another second to say what it was.

Merle ushered for him to say what he thought it was. Lowering his squirrel, Daryl went to thinking about what kind of deeds Merle did while in his biker gang. Distributing weapons wasn't it as the gang was always careful to make sure that even if the cops knew, they couldn't tie it to them. Fighting other gangs wasn't it either since the cops really couldn't care less if two gangs fought each other over petty shit. Selling drugs probably wasn't it since the gang wouldn't have needed to ratted him out if a cop caught him...

Wait.

Daryl groaned. "You got in a fight with a cop because you got caught selling drugs?" He asked. He knew Merle was an idiot. Daryl could count on one hand the things Merle actually knew shit about. But to be dumb enough to attack a police officer? It seemed that Merle somehow always found a way to lower the bar on Daryl's expectations of his brother's intelligence.

Merle's lips tightened up into a smirk, like if he was proud Daryl got it on one go. "Yessir, I did. I won that fight, although the cop saw the President patch I had and mistook it for Ash's Vice President patch." He explained. "They picked his ass up, he caved and ratted on me, they picked me up, and when the world ended, I got out. You can tell the story from there."

"That explains why you went crazy on your pals." Daryl mumbled.

"Betrayal isn't something I'm fond of, Baby Brother." Merle reminded, taking bites of his squirrel as he kept talking. "Rats deserve to die, especially if it's to people who you call family." He finished his squirrel, dumping his garbage on the ground.

Daryl shrugged. Although he disagreed to a point, he wouldn't start an argument. A sober Merle was a pain in the ass to argue with. A Merle that was high? You had better luck convincing one of these Walkers not to eat you. Daryl was surprised that Merle wasn't being rougher. He guessed the feeling hadn't settled in yet.

"So... We still going?" Daryl asked, remembering how this conversation started with Merle's suggestion to not stay in Atlanta.

"Oh yeah," Merle nodded. "Too damn close to not at least check the place out. Whether or not we stay is somethin' else."

Daryl shrugged. "Don't matter to me." He mumbled, picking at his squirrel.

"Good..." Merle nodded.

Groans interrupted what can be interrupted as a bonding moment with them. Two Walkers shuffled out of the patch of trees across the road they were parked to the side of. Merle turned his head to peek over his shoulders while Daryl leaned back from his spot on the ground to look.

"Wanna get that?" Merle licked his fingers. It wasn't really a question by the tone he was using.

Daryl sighed, climbing onto his shitty knee and grabbing his crossbow that hung off his back. Daryl lined his sights up and fired, taking the tall and skinny one down with a clean shot to the head. He reloaded before taking a shot to the short one that looked like he was dragging his guts with him by his feet. How he was able to walk without falling before finding Daryl and Merle was bizarre.

"Grab your shit and let's go." Merle commanded. There was the asshole tone a high-as-a-kite Merle was easily distinguished by. "There may be more around."

Daryl kicked dirt into the fire, killing the small ember while he grabbed his string of four squirrels and one rabbit from the floor. Hovering it in his hand as he looked back and forth between the driver's seat and the bed of the truck, the youngest Dixon shrugged before he tossed the dead animals in the bed. He retrieved his two arrows before he promptly jumped back at the very close and deafening sound of the car horn going off.

"Fuck!"

Merle hovered his head from the driver's side. "Daylight's a burning, Boy. Let's get a move on."

Daryl bit down the wave upon wave of insults he had felt conjure up almost instantaneous the moment the horn went off. It wasn't worth it when going against a Merle that was high. Daryl really preferred his brother sober. He was an asshole either way, but at least he could have a conversation with a sober Merle. This kind of Merle? Daryl had to regress into a fuckin' puppy just to avoid needless confrontation.

Without a word, he took his spot at the driver's seat even though he probably shouldn't be driving with his knee. He thought about telling Merle, but he'd probably tell him to stop being a bitch; sober or not. He also thought about asking for some of the medication, but refrained because Merle'd tell him to get his own and at least one of them needed to be fully aware at all times. He was stuck with a bad and worse situation while being jammed between a rock and a hard place.

Still as quiet as the mouse he had to be when Merle was in one of his states, he started the truck and continued the drive towards Atlanta.

...

"One job... You had one job, jackass." Daryl mumbled to himself as he sat in the driver's seat of the truck. Merle was out of the truck, playing around with the engine of the truck. Daryl could still see the steady rise of the smoke that leaked out from the hood of the truck although Merle had popped the hood to investigate.

They were less than two days from Atlanta now. They were making good time and Daryl figured that if they didn't run into any roadblocks, they could maybe get there tomorrow But, like if the world decided to stick one to him, once his thoughts finished, smoke had begun to leak out from the hood of the truck.

Daryl rested comfortably in the truck while Merle looked around for the problem. He could hear Merle talk to the truck, asking it why it crapped out on them when they had been nothing but gentle to it. If Daryl hadn't gotten up before Merle, he'd suspect his brother was high. It was just him being stupid. Nothing abnormal.

Daryl took the time to roll his pants leg up. He hadn't checked his knee since Merle crashed the army jeep. He hadn't a chance with juggling twelve things at once every day. Guess now was his chance.

He winced when he pulled the pants leg over his knee. He caught himself before he groaned. His knee was swelled up. He could easily see the imbalance of color on his knee, signaling that there was something wrong with it. Daryl wasn't no doctor, so he couldn't diagnosis the problem. All he could rule out was internal bleeding as he would've probably died by now. It was either broken or sprained. Fucking Merle and his need to drive high for the joy of the experience.

He rolled his pants leg back down. Now they really needed to get to Atlanta so Daryl could have this checked out. He wasn't sure if having it go unchecked for a week and a half would have long term repercussions. He hoped it didn't. It would just make his survival all the more difficult.

He heard Merle slam his hands on the edges of the hood. "Damn."

"What's the problem?" Daryl asked, getting curious when Merle slammed the hood. Obviously something was wrong, but Merle would usually shrug and say oh well if that was the case. To slam his hands meant something bad.

"Engine is dead." Merle didn't even try to move from his spot. He merely kept glancing down at the workings of the truck, glaring at the fried engine like if he could scare it back to life. "I could fix it if we had the tools for it, but the only tools we have is our men exclusive ones." Daryl rolled his eyes at his poor joke. "We ain't going anywhere in this."

The younger Dixon sighed, "Guess it's back to your bike." And back to riding behind Merle's smelly ass. At least in the truck Daryl could roll down a window and have Merle a arm's length away. On the bike, he had to bury his face uncomfortably close to Merle's body. It was gonna be a grueling two days.

Merle shrugged, "Seems like it..." The sound of an engine approaching caught their attention. Merle smirked. "Or not." Daryl couldn't see, but he heard the smile in Merle's voice... And he knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Damn it, Merle, we ain't going grand theft auto on some poor bastard."

"I did love that game," Merle shook his head fondly. "I figured you'd be all for it considering you love riding behind me on the bike." Daryl heard the smile again. "Let's just see who it is and if we can, we'll take the ride." He ordered as the sound of the engine grew closer. "It's probably an asshole anyway." He shrugged.

If Daryl didn't know better, he'd think Merle was trying to justify doing something bad. He never did that. He just usually did what he wanted and said fuck it to the consequences.

A couple seconds later, Daryl adjusted his position so he was sitting in the seat buy facing outside. Merle was still behind the raised hood, but had his head tilted to the side to get a better look. Daryl described it as Merle having cover in case things went south. With Merle's decision to rob even though he had a perfectly working bike, it very well could go that far. Daryl couldn't understand Merle's thinking most of the time, but there were times when he had no chance in doing so; this being one of them. Daryl held his crossbow just in case.

Coming down the road was a bright red Sedan. Even from his spot Daryl could see the dried blood that rested on the hood. Looks like whoever was driving had done a run 'em and gun it on a Walker. The driver seemed to notice their little rundown truck, so whoever it was drove slower and slower as it got closer; probably analyzing them from afar.

"Chicken?" Merle asked quietly.

Daryl shook his head. "Don't seem like it." He debunked that thought. He's seen games of chicken. Even had one himself while at a sawmill looking for supplies for Merle after he found his intoxicated ass in Fontana picking off scavengers from the top of a police station. Merle seemed to accept it as he didn't comment back.

Whoever was driving stopped at least a good dozen or so feet behind them. Daryl watched as whoever was driving got out of the car. Daryl could feel the nerve in him lower quite a bit when he saw it was just a twenty year old kid.

"It's just a kid, Merle." Daryl whispered.

"Yes it is," Merle whispered back. His earlier plan, while still on the table, was looking less and less pretty the longer he stared at this kid. "We can still do it." He offered, waiting to see what Daryl would say. He was doing this for him, so his input would be appreciated slightly. Merle took Daryl's silence as a hesitant yes. Merle went to studying him.

He had dark brown spiky hair that was pressed down in the back. He had matching dark brown eyes that were borderline red, signaling his lack of sleep the past few days. A clumsily hidden gun was holstered in the front waistband of his dark blue jeans. His black T-shirt with a large white 'S' and 'P' crossed together in the middle had dried spots that pretty told the story itself.

"Good," Merle nodded. "Looks like a lightweight. Even with that knee of yours, you could take him down with just kicks." He gave Daryl a smirk when his brother turned to give him a disapproved stare, seemingly surprised that Merle would even know about his knee. "You're hobbling around like a girl that just had her first time in the keister." Daryl's face turned red. Whether from anger or embarrassment or both he couldn't tell. "After we get that Sedan, we'll have the doctors there check you and then we'll decide to stay or leave."

Daryl shrugged. He much rather stay in a safe place, but he wasn't abandoning Merle. You don't abandon family.

"Hey..." The almost forgotten boy took very slow steps to them, one hand raised while the other hung at his side; likely to go for his gun if he had to. "You friendlies?" Daryl could hear himself breaking down laughing at the question, but he didn't let it come. Merle? Friendly? Best joke he's heard in years.

Merle shrugged, having turned the corner from the hood and stepping out in all his tall, intimidating, smirking glory. "We can be if you don't have no quarrel with us." Daryl watched the situation carefully, not sure how Merle was gonna go about doing this. Merle eyed the Sedan behind the boy. "Sweet ride there. As you can see," Merle kicked at the dead truck. "Ours is a little beat down. You heading for Atlanta?"

Daryl focused on the posture and body language of the kid they were probably gonna fuck over. He wasn't paying attention to Daryl, only focusing on Merle's disturbingly friendly tone. Daryl didn't blame him. He got scared sometimes when Merle talked like that.

"Yes?" He responded, his tone questioning as he waited for Merle to do something stupid or threatening. Daryl was right there with this guy. "They were broadcasting on the radio. Said it was safe, protected, fortified, and had supplies."

"Would you mind allowing two good men to squeeze into that nice looking Sedan of yours for the last two days of the trip?" Merle had that jackass grin of his on his face, which made Daryl consider kicking him with his good knee. He might as well just say it, 'I wanna steal your shit.'

The boy looked back to his Sedan, eyeing it with a mixture of doubt and hesitation. Daryl could guess that the kid was maybe considering it. There was no reason for Merle to do what he was gonna do. It wouldn't do any good unless Merle was gonna kill this kid. He would come to Atlanta by foot and then they would be fucked.

Before Daryl could say something, the kid continued his and Merle's awkward conversation. "I don't know..."

"If you need Mommy or Daddy to talk, then tell them to come out." Merle offered. "I promise, we're not gonna bite."

The kid gave Merle a glare, "Fuck you."

"Oh, he's got a mouth on him, Baby Brother." Merle walked so he stood in front of Daryl, smacking his arm with his elbow.

"Damn it, Merle, shut up." Daryl aimed to try and defuse the situation as best he could.

"Why? We're just having a neighborly chat, right Kid?" He remained focus on his prey. Daryl was already playing out the next few minutes in his head. The kid remained still. Daryl couldn't tell if it was in fear or determination. "It's just a short ride. I'll even pay back the gas money if you want."

"It's not that, you ass." He shook his head. "I don't care about giving you a ride if it was just me." Daryl's ears picked up at the sound of that. "But..."

"Need parents permission to come on the field trip?" Merle asked, his grin still on his face. Maybe he wouldn't rob this kid and let him drive them to Atlanta. He was having fun having a pissing contest with someone that wasn't Daryl.

"Your jokes fail to amuse me." He glared again.

"Cole..."

Following the kid out were two more people... Actually, they were kids. A boy and a girl. They were ten and five respectively. The boy had the same colored hair and eyes as this guy Cole, but no traces of red were found in the kid's eyes. He was wearing a silver shirt with a dinosaur plastered on the front and had baby blue pants to accommodate it, rounding off with brown boots. The little girl had black hair that went to her mid-back and also had blue eyes. She had a white T-shirt on that obviously belonged to the guy Cole, looking like it was about to swallow the little girl up. Her little feet had pink shoes that were stained with blood and God knew what else.

Daryl's eyes widened just a little bit. Jesus, he had kids with him. Fuck it. They weren't doing this.

"Fuck..." Merle's voice groaned out in what could be mistaken as pain. Daryl didn't know what to make of that. He actually turned away to look at his brother. He saw Merle actually look very conflicted right now, most likely reconsidering his 'ingenuous' plan to rob the poor bastard named Cole. Merle rested his head on the top of the door. "Damn it all..."

Daryl watched as the guy now known as Cole turned back to the two kids that exited the car. He didn't have to see his face to know he was giving those kids a disappointed look.

"I told you two to stay in the car." He thought he was being quiet, but Daryl's default filter of silence and Merle's rare thinking over something he was gonna do made his hush tone sound like he was screaming. He eyed the boy. "Nate, I told you to stay until I said it was okay to come out." He sounded like he had this conversation before with the boy. Daryl recognized that tried tone that he himself used on Merle many times before.

The younger boy, Nate, looked a little ashamed at having disobeyed Cole. "Yeah, we know, but Melody really has to go."

"Go?"

The little girl, Melody, shook in her spot, "I have to pee." She whined, bouncing as she did her best to stop from pissing all over herself.

"Now? Can you hold it?" She shook her head at him, her face constructed in growing pain and agitation as she battled the losing fight she had going on. "Fuck," he ran a hand down his face. He turned to the Dixon's. "We'll continue this conversation in a minute." With that, Cole stalked back to the two kids. He grabbed Melody's hand and walked her behind the Sedan with the little boy Nate following him like a shadow. Daryl turned his head when the sound of the girl's pee hitting the road shot out in the quiet vicinity around them.

Merle wasn't mumbling to himself anymore, just standing there as his head hung over the open door. It honestly freaked Daryl out a little. He's never seen Merle this quiet, even when the man was asleep. It was a new path presented in front of him that Daryl had no clue how to cross or maneuver through.

"Hey, jackass," Daryl tried for habit, seeing where that would take him against this obstacle. "What're we doing?"

Merle broke out of what he was thinking about to give Daryl a shrug of his shoulders. "Color me fucked. I don't know." Merle gave him that condescending smirk that Daryl felt comfortable with facing. "I don't Sunny Christ Boy will appreciate us robbing a bunch of kids, even in this world." Yeah. Us. Daryl sighed. "Guess we'll see if we can hitch a ride."

"Why not just ride your bike?"

Merle let loose that loud annoying laugh of his. "We may or may not be out of gas on that one, Baby Brother."

"..."

Daryl lowered his head into his hands. "Then why did you suggest we ride that into Atlanta when there was no gas?" There were days Daryl wanted to know what went on in Merle's head just so he could help himself sleep at night with how his dumbass brother thought... Then Merle would say something idiotic again and Daryl would change his tune.

Merle laughed again, "Because I just remembered I was high and playing with the gas hole when you were hunting last night, a straggler came, I knocked him into my bike, and all the gas leaked out."

"So all that wasn't just blood..." He sighed. "Well, now I know why you were so eager to rob this guy." Merle gave a disinterested shrug as Daryl watched their company turn back around from the back of the Sedan.

Cole ushered his two child acquaintances into the Sedan, mumbling to them what Daryl guessed was a warning to not leave again without his say so. He couldn't blame him. Running into two rednecks broken down in the middle of the road with one being Merle and the other a silent fucker with a crossbow? Yeah, he had a right to be worried, although Daryl didn't want to cause this guy harm.

Merle picked right back up where he left off, "So, Baby Daddy? What's the final verdict?" Daryl groaned. Merle seriously couldn't help a case of his if Daryl gave him a script with everything he should say plastered in capital letters.

Cole examined the two of them back over, turned to look to his two kids, then back to them again. He sighed. "Get your shit. Weapons in the trunk and anything else you can keep on you."

Daryl shrugged. That was fair, he guessed.

Merle laughed. "Good on ya, Baby Daddy. Good on ya." He smacked Daryl's shoulder and to get him to stand up. Merle eyed his bike, then eyed Cole. "Can 'ol Betty fit in the trunk?"

"If it stays open, yeah." He answered.

Merle grinned as he and Daryl gathered their shit, with Merle guiding his bike out of the bed of the truck with Daryl lugging his crossbow, Merle's rifle, their few squirrels and rabbit, and a backpack with what little ammo and supplies they had.

"Name's Merle Dixon with the boy here Daryl." He kicked the back of Daryl's leg. Luckily for him, it was his good knee.

"Cole Jackson. The little boy there is Nate, my brother. The girl is Melody... She's a friend." He had paused awkwardly for a second, but he rounded off the introductions smoothly.

Daryl looked back at Cole as he packed the trunk with his and Merle's supplies. He saw Merle shake Cole's hand awkwardly and found himself in a similar position when he moved from the trunk and found himself looking at the two kids peering at him from the window. The girl Melody was tilting her head at him while the boy Nate was just giving him a smile. Confused on how to move, he just gave them a nod in return. He welcomed Merle's slapping of the shoulder as he rolled his bike towards the trunk.

"Asshole," he muttered towards his brother as he took that as his excuse to move away from the two kids. He met up with Cole, who still had his eyes trained on Merle. Daryl stopped in front of him. "Guess I should say thanks for the ride."

Cole shrugged, "Safety in numbers, right?" He sounded as about convinced of the excuse as Daryl did. "I'm not sure if this is the right way of saying this, but I'm not exactly comfortable with your brother riding in the back with my kids." Daryl almost cracked a smirk. This kid was smarter than he looked.

He gave a shrug, figuring out what the unasked question was. "Yeah, sure, whatever," he said. He shook his hand awkwardly, "Thanks for the ride." He mumbled, glancing at their shaking hands before he circled around to the passenger side. He passed Merle, who had finished getting his bike into the Sedan and closing the trunk as best he could. Merle gave him that grin, patting Daryl's back as he entered the Sedan. He didn't have to look to know the kids were staring at him again. He wasn't some storybook for them to look at, so why were they?

"Hi," he heard the boy address him. Daryl stared out the window, hoping the kid was smart enough to get the memo. "What's your name?" Daryl grumbled under his breath, watching the trees out the window. "I'm Nate."

"Daryl..." He figured giving the kid his name would end the conversation. He bit back his smirk when the kid didn't say anything else. Out of the corner of the reflection in the window, he could see the girl Melody open her mouth and close like if she wanted to ask him something. He never liked playing twenty questions, so he was fine with her keeping the question she had to herself.

Merle was waving like a jackass at the truck, bidding it a fond farewell before he climbed in shotgun. Cole entered the driver's seat, turning the key and flaring the car to life. Merle rested his legs up on the dash, folding his hands behind his head after he pointed forward down the road.

"Next stop: Money-Grubbing-Rich-White-Asshole Atlanta."

End of Chapter 1 of End of Days

That rabbit scene is chilling for me. It pretty much summed up the Walking Dead world in its brutality and the reality of the hopeless situation that is now present.

And yes, there are OCs. Why? Because I want to practice making my own characters for when I start publishing my own work. Trust me, everything is here for a reason.

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Drop a dime to let me know what you thought. It's gonna hopefully be an awesome tale and the more the merrier!

Next Time: Treading Waters