Survival Instinct

Chapter One: Hell Breaks Loose

She stared at the scene in front of her, eyes wide with shock. Her neighbor, a kind elderly man, was devouring his wife on her front lawn. That same neighbor was slowly getting to his feet, and making his way over to where she was stood. But nothing in her brain was working, nothing was making her legs move. She couldn't run. Instead, she stood stuck there with her eyes wide as she awaited certain death. Then he dropped to the ground, with a bolt sticking out of his head. Her mouth parted open, and she looked at where the bolt had come from. At the sidewalk was parked the Dixon brothers, in their respective vehicles. The older on his motorbike, the younger in his beat-up truck.

"Yer alright?" the older one called, climbing off the death-trap and making his way over to the female he had just saved. "Hey, Earth to Tristan!" He snapped his fingers impatiently in front of her face. "Yer been bit?"

She shook her head once, her eyes moving to meet his. "Nah, he didn't get close enough." She narrowed her green eyes, at the bolt before going to retrieve it. The female gave one hard yank on it, as it slid from the corpse of her neighbor before passing it off to the younger brother who had approached them. "Ya seen my dad?"

"Unfortunately," Merle replied, a soft growl escaping his lips.

"Ya take him down?" Tristan replied, her nose twitching at the thought of her father walking around as one of those things.

"'Course, girlie," Merle assured her, reaching out and squeezing her shoulder. "Not everyones dad was like yours, Tris. Gave him exactly what he would have wanted."

A small smile tugged at Tristan's lips, before she guided the brothers inside her tiny house. She made her way into her bedroom, pulling out her backpack from her closet and began shoving clothes inside. Merle was stood in the doorway, watching her with his piercing eyes. Daryl, the younger brother, was stood in the living room, keeping guard of the house while Tristan packed up everything she needed.

The female had known the brothers since school, seeing as she was in the same year as Daryl. They had both taken a liking to her, when she stood up for the younger Dixon about a situation with another student - the teacher instantly took the side of the student who had struck Daryl first. Tristan had stuck by him since then, helping each other out of sticky situations. Merle had been grateful to have someone to look out for Daryl, when he was doing stints in juvie. Plus, Tristan and Merle had similar personalities - when the latter wasn't getting high - so they bonded over that too.

"C'mon, girlie, gotta get going."

She looked up at him, and gave one simple nod as she moved to the bathroom, "You take my other bag and go fill it up with anything from the kitchen. I won't be living off of ya shit from your cupboards - moldy ass shit."

Merle chuckled, grabbing the other bag and doing as he was told, while the female grabbed her toiletries.

Once they had gathered anything necessary, the trio moved out to the vehicles and put the two bags in the back of Daryl's truck. Tristan paused in her movements, as she looked at her bags and then her house.

"What's the matter now?" Merle grumbled, climbing onto his bike.

"Did you grab my gun?"

"Grabbed it all for ya, when you were getting your clothes," Daryl told her, pushing her towards the passenger door. She nodded, and climbed into his truck.

The brothers exchanged words, before Daryl was getting into the truck too. And then they were off, onto a journey that was going to be filled with blood, gore and horror. But none of them would go down without a fight, it wasn't the way they were taught. And as Tristan looked out of the window, at the streets they were passing with people running around in panic, she smiled to herself. Because she was in the best goddamn company on the planet. They wouldn't let her die.