How the Man Designed Me

Chapter 1

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I'm No Stranger To The Rain Keith Whitley

watch?v=yQj2huYyqpc

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The Georgian sun beat down as the dusty black SUV coasted the empty road, heat waves rippling and warping the view of the scrub and brush along the sides of the clearing, holding back the woods on either side of the narrow road. Although the nights were starting to have a chill to them, the late morning humidity was still enough to make sweat drip down your neck and between the shoulder blades. Keith Whitley's baritone crooned soothingly from the stereo as Janessa rested one hand on the wheel and the other arm leaned on the open window, the slight breeze lifting the strands of hair that had come loose from being stuffed up in her cowboy hat.

Using what her daddy used to call 460 AC, four open windows while crusin' at 60 to catch a breeze. It might have worked better up North where she was from than it did down here, but economizing on energy consumption mattered. Even having the stereo on was a luxury these days, but hell, a person needed a slice of normal once in a while and music had been her life. Tapping her fingers along the outside of the car door to "I'm No Stranger To the Rain" she found herself half hoping it would bring some rain, half fearing what that would mean this time of year.

Shit, she thought as she rolled back her shoulders and straightened up in her seat. She was reasonably certain that if "pending Zombie Apocalypse" had even been a rumour last year when she agreed to perform at the Peach festival she wouldn't be here, 1000 miles from home. But then she would never have seen the world's largest peach cobbler and peaches were her favourite, so that evens it all out right? She found herself singing aloud again to the chorus. Damned straight, she told herself, she was no stranger to the rain, you bet that's how the Man designed me. She wasn't some MaryJane, she'd learned the hard way to dance in the hurricane.

Focusing back on the road she had to admit it had been quieter than a mouse pissin' on cotton for the better part of a week, and that just didn't sit right with her. Too much? She chuckled to herself realizing, a year living down here and she was starting to think in colloquialisms. But the heat and the sun really did make a difference in how you thought and talked. She's learned the South had a languid vocabulary that conveyed the hebejebes she was feeling far more articulately than she could have imagined.

Rubbing her eyes she saw the reflection of the sun off metal in what appeared to be two men by the side of the road waving her down. They would be the first hitchhiking zombies she'd seen so far if that's what they were, but she slowed down all the same, they could be alive and experience had taught her that some cliches were true, it's always better to be safe than sorry. Live ones could be even more dangerous than the dead. Banging the side of the car door she switched off the music and hollered to her companion in the back seat.

"Wake up sunshine, we've got company!"

Blake was already awake with his eyes closed. He'd been listening to Janessa singing and well, she was damn good and he hadn't wanted her to stop. Like a shot he was up, rifle sighted and when they were just about to come into range he tapped the back of her seat and said with his deep slow drawl.

"That's close enough hun, let's see what we see." Trusting his judgement she slowed the car to a stop.

He was a Sam Elliott type circa Roadhouse, steel grey layered shoulder length hair, huge moustache, long limbed and with a deep voice that was made for singing. He was so Southern he was related to himself and she was so Northern she was a Canadian. Right down to the quirk of not pronouncing her second t's, being from Torona, eh. Which is how a local would pronounce Toronto. Their accents were completely different, but when they sang they blended well together, enough that people used to pay good money to hear them.

He'd worked with her quite a bit over the years, watched her grow up and knew her back story. She'd come through a lot and although the music business was a hard one it was also a big ol' dysfunctional family, and they took care of their own. It's just what they did, so it was second nature when the peach parade turned to shit with the zombies an' all that he got her to safety and they'd been surviving best they could ever since.

Sometimes they were on the road and other times in one of the many places he know about, one of the perks of being local. Aside from winter, they made a point to never stay too long in any one place and after a year of surviving this way he'd gone from being a good friend to coming to feel like a father to her. There's a bond formed in combat that can be as strong as blood, sometimes stronger. Considering just about everyone else they knew was gone, they'd become their own family and they took kin seriously. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do to keep her safe and see her happy. He guessed with a chuckle that that's how the Man musta designed him. There were a few good reasons they were still alive, partially because they were lucky and they'd learned to be careful but it seemed to him they had a purpose to serve. Something we all have, he supposed.

Shaking his head he reminded himself to focus on the job at hand. Knowing that if they were almost in range to the strangers up ahead, that put them in the crosshairs too. Just because there only appeared to be two people on the road, that didn't mean that's all that was out there.

It wasn't paranoia to keep your eyes open for ambushes, these were dangerous times and experience had taught him that things were rarely what they seemed. No doubt about it, they were in an extinction event, end of the human world, apocalypse; whatever you wanted to call it. It could bring out the best and worst in people. Best to just take these first contact situations slow and easy.

Blake opened the back door and stepped out of the SUV, using the door as a shield. He called out across the distance between them, using his best good 'ol boy, don't-fuck-with-me drawl.

"Howdy! Nice to see y'all breathin'. So long as you ain't bit, how may we be of assistance?" he asked.

The Dixon brothers grinned to each other. Southern hospitality is home-schooled even by folks raised by drunks and deadbeats. They knew that with the good Lord willing and the if the creek don't rise, this was a decidedly good turn to the day.

"Damn it's good to see y'all! I'm Merle Dixon and this here is my baby bro Daryl," The older one with the metal stump called out.

"Stayin' not bit has been keepin' us busier than a one legged cat in a sandbox, Hell just bein' alive is a full time job these days!" he hollered back across the distance to them wanting to assure them that they weren't bit, which was a death sentence for anyone nearby as well.

"Any chance you could see your way clear to take us down the road a spell, maybe 'til we can find ourselves a working car an' be on our way?" he asked plainly.

Blake and Janessa caught each other's eye and he lifted his eyebrow to her in question. She shrugged with a smirk and replied quietly,

"Well at least it sounds like we could pick up a few colourful expressions. If we're giving them a lift, we're going to have to take some serious precautions."

Blake sighed deeply and stepped away from the open door to get a better view, his tall powerful frame casting a long shadow. His shotgun at the ready but slightly tilted to the left resting on his forearm, in the universal "I'm listen' but I don't fuckin' trust ya" stance, he took a long hard look at these men. They were filthy. But then, who really was clean any more?

The older one, the talker, had a metal stump and where his right hand should be was a long wicked blade that he waved, catching the sun. Blake noted the pistol in his belt and another blade strapped to his side. He looked dangerous and cocky with a big grin on his craggy, yet still handsome face. Bet there's a story behind that, he thought.

The other one was closer to Janessa's age and stature he didn't look any less filthy, or less dangerous. He had his crossbow at the ready and a knife on his belt, but there was also something vulnerable about him, like a dog that had been beat more times than not but still willing to put himself out there. Apart from basic weapons, they were traveling light, on foot and just with the clothes on their backs. These boys had been running from somewhere, but not that long and a bit of local news could be handy.

"Damn", he muttered to himself. Getting' soft bringing home strays for Janessa to play with, hoping they wouldn't regret it.

"You sure about doin' this? It'll be risky. That talker looks like he'll be a handful," he asked her with concern.

She just nodded again replying, "It's the right thing to do."

Blake shook his head and sighed. "Well, come on then," he called out to them waving them towards the car "Ain't got all day! Never know what's gonna pop out these woods."

Merle slapped Daryl on his chest with a backhanded left and crowed with delight.

"Fuck me if I didn't tell ya, with us Dixon brothers back together again our luck is gonna change! These nice folk would be happy I'm sure to see their way clear to helpin' us back on our feet."

Daryl growled at Merle, "Don't you fuck this up, I ain't waited all this time t' find ya, only t' die on the side o' no road 'cause you're an asshole."

"Relax bro, I can play nice, real nice." He grinned, but Daryl didn't feel all that assured. As they got closer, Merle whistled as he reached for the front passenger side door and said,

"Howt damn, ain't you a sight for sore eyes woman! Like I said to your friend, I'm Merle Dixon and this here is my baby bro, Daryl!"

Blake spoke quietly but firmly across the roof of the car to forestall his action.

"Now it's not that we don't welcome your company, as it is the Christian thing to do. And while I admire your handiwork, I'm thinking it would be best that your "right hand" be kept in your pocket around us. It looks like the old Wild West days are back, so no one should go unarmed, but we shouldn't have a cocked weapon pointed at each other either," he said with a smile and his thick grey moustache danced across his face as chuckled at his own joke, but his eyes still had a hardness to them. He was dead serious.

"Why don't you and I take a backseat and let the young folk get acquainted? Though I must say, don't you boys look like you've been rode hard and put up wet?" They both snorted at being compared to badly tended to saddles but Daryl couldn't hold back a smirk, thinking he liked this guy all the same.

After Merle had removed his bayonet and placed in a sheath on his belt, Blake and Merle settled into the back seat and Daryl opened the front door, nodded to the occupants and cradled his crossbow in his lap, facing it out the window as he sat down. He noticed the pistol in her lap, right where she could reach it and he credited her with being careful.

"Sorry, our social skills are getting rusty this past year, I'm Janessa James. Sone folks used to call me JJ but Janessa will do. And this is Blake Turner."

Merle waved his metal stump in greeting from the back seat as he said, "Pleased to meet'cha Janessa, Blake. We sure do appreciate you stopping like ya' did. It's been a root hog or die few days and we could use a rest and get some fuckin' distance."

Daryl chewed the inside of his mouth at Merle's profanity, hoping he wasn't getting' started. Last thing they needed was Merle to get all crass and overstay their welcome.

"Thanks Janessa, Blake, it's already been a morning' that's lasted 30 years in this heat." he replied softly, his voice husky from disuse. Merle never needed much conversation from him, a nod and a grunt could keep him goin' for hours and Daryl hated to admit, especially after being separated from him all this time but he appreciated the peace of it not being directed at him, if even only for a few minutes.

"Where are my manners? Gracious! Daryl, by your feet there's a pack, pull it up here and help yourselves to some water and food. You men must be parched. So, are you heading anywhere in particular?"

Daryl tossed a water bottle and energy bar back to Merle, and twisting the top off his he and turned to Janessa and nodded again. He snuck a sideways look and thought she was pretty, real pretty what his momma woulda called handsome. Big grey green eyes and a smile that came from the inside and lit her up. She was refined and poised but he saw strength and kindness too. He'd always been hyper aware of his surrounding and sizing up people, his survival in an abusive home had depended on it and he knew right off these were good people. He looked back out the window grateful for the slight breeze, the bit of food and water and a comfortable place to rest his bones a spell.

"Yeah, figurine' on catchin' up with some people now that I've finally found my brother again after all this time, it's been a long year and I owe them."

As he gulped the water down Merle said under his breath,

"So do I, little brother, so do I."

It wasn't missed by Janessa and Blake as they locked eyes through the mirror and communicated the heads up, and then adopted the relaxed vigilance of the survivors that they were.

"Well, you rest up a bit and we'll help you get sorted. There's a town down the road a ways and we should be able to get you a car and some supplies," she said as she tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear.

Daryl realized he was drawn to her accent and wanted to hear her keep talking. She sounded like someone from the TV or movies, the perfect all-American accent. He couldn't help watching her mouth as she talked, wondering if she smiled when she kissed too. He lightly bit his lower lip before realizing he'd been daydreaming and looked away annoyed with himself. Pfft. Taking another sip of water gratefully as it washed down his parched throat, he turned to Blake in the backseat trying to take his mind off her, he wondered aloud, "Mind me asking, why y'all stopped? Been my experience the livin' are more trouble than the dead."

Blake just chuckled, noticing the exchange and simply drawled "Have to ask the boss on that one, it was her idea."

She just smiled as she turned the stereo back on and as Keith Whitley crooned on she turned to him and replied,

"I reckon that's how the Man designed me."

Merle didn't miss a thing either and he was glad to see his baby bro show a little interest. Maybe he'd finally fuckin' grown a pair. He'd been a pussy long enough and if he played his cards right maybe he'd even get some. Giggity, giggity. She was hot; not in no girly way neitha'. She was a woman and so for once he didn't say anythin'. It'd been a long year and he'd had some time to think. The most important person in his world was Daryl, and damn if he wasn't going to take a moment and enjoy it. There'd be time for the rest soon enough.

The song played on and the four relaxed as much as strangers hell-bent for survival could relax, as the road sped by in the midday Georgian sun. It was good to listen to the country music and think back to a different time.

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I've been reading some great stuff here and I want thank you all for the inspiration to finally start one of my own. I'll be including a Youtube link at the top of every page to a song that I've used as a soundtrack, that I hope you might enjoy. For those not familiar with the fandom, the Dixon brothers are cannon and I'll keep the them in character based on this story arc, Janessa and Blake are mine, which will take us down AU paths at times and weave in with cannon at others.