Chapter 1

It was early morning. The sun was soft and the breeze cool as it brushed along the skin of his arm, which hung out of his truck window. The road was clear of everything. No bodies, no abandoned cars, nothing. A little farther down the road he spotted something- or someone. It was a figure in the distance walking in the same direction he was heading. Putting his foot down on the pedal he caught up with the figure in no time,only to realise that it was his neighbour. A girl with long dark hair tied up in a ponytail and a backpack thrown over her shoulder. As he pulled alongside this girl, she turned to look at him. Her porcelain skin was covered in a patchwork of bruises, her beautiful green eyes blood shot and watery, her pink lips split and bleeding.
He couldn't look at her. He was all too aware of who had done that to her face and it hit to close too home. But why was she out here miles away from her home, their neighbourhood, with only a handgun at her waist as protection? Winding his window down, he shouted to the girl,
"Aye, you got a death wish, girl, why you out 'ere 'lone?" She just looked at him for a minute, deciding what response to give him.
"Ain't any of your business, Dixon." She turned away from him, having then made up her mind to ignore him and carry on, in the hopes that he would take the hint. But he didn't.
"Aye, get in I ain't 'avin' ye walkin' out by yeself." He opened the passenger door from the inside. The girl climbed into his truck with a sigh.
"I was gonna go get some supplies, my Pa is drinking like a fish." The girl finally admitted as she turned towards him. He nodded that he'd heard he but didn't reply. She unclipped her gun and put it on the dash, as he carried on the drive down the road.
Twenty minutes passed, before they reached a small supermarket. Its windows were smashed, but it's doors still locked shut with a length of chain and a padlock. The pair climbed through the window. The place was a mess, with glass and rubbish littering the floors, while shelves and fridges had been pulled down or tipped over. Some cans still remained on shelves and they headed towards them. After filling two baskets each, they left the parking area outside the store and headed back to their neighbourhood. It was midday by the time they got to the girls home. It was only small but it was only her and her father that lived there. The windows where haphazardly boarded up with wood and blankets. The girl exhaled smoke from her lungs as she turned away from her home towards him, the last of her cigarette falling out of her fingers toward the ground outside the truck.
"Stay safe, Dixon." She leant over to him and pressed her lips to his for a second before she pulled away, grabbed her gun from the dashboard and jumped out of the truck. Stunned he didn't notice she had taken her belongings from the truck until he saw her front door close, and his brother shout from next door for him to hurry up. They had to leave soon for Atlanta.

Daryl woke from the same dream he'd had since the rise of the dead. It's what kept him up most nights. When he remembered his neighbour and friend, he wondered if she was alive anymore or if the walkers had got her, turned her, like they had everyone else he'd left behind. It was so long ago now, nearly two years since he'd seen his home. But he wouldn't complain, his life hadn't turned out so bad. He had a family of sorts: Rick, Carl, Little Kickass, Hershel and his girls, Glenn and Carol. They were his family and they had a home. The prison was the safest place they'd been in months and he liked it, though he was never going to sleep in a cage. The perch suited him fine. But he always went back to that dream. It floated through his mind of a day and kept him awake of a night. Was it his conscience? Had there been something left unsaid? Should he have asked her to come with him, to leave her drunk of a father and go with him and Merle? He didn't know what the answer was, but he did know he needed to get some sleep. So he rolled over in his bed facing out towards the bars separating their cellblock from the mess hall. He could see Rick slumped against the wall. He'd not been doing well since Lora passed, but how else is someone supposed to react to the loss of a loved one? There isn't a textbook answer for dealing with grief. Everyone left in the block had lost someone. Rick lost Lori, Hershel lost his wife, son and farm, and Carol lost Sophie. Hell, even Daryl had lost Merle, his brother back in Atlanta. Little Kickass stirred in her makeshift crib, whimpering softly, so before she could start howling like a banshee, Daryl got off his mattress and went to her. Her big blue eyes stared him down as he stood over the crib, the little whimpers and sniffs stopping when he picked her up. Resting her head on the crook of his elbow he rocked her gently. Maybe it was a good thing his brother wasn't there, he'd have a fit if he saw Daryl rocking a baby.

"Hey, small fry ye tryin' to wake the block up?" Daryl whispered to the tiny baby, her little eyes getting heavier with every second he rocked her, until they finally closed again. Her breathing evened out as he placed her back into her box and headed outside to the yard, knowing he definitely wouldn't be getting back to sleep now. The sun was just starting to rise as he sat himself heavily down on a picnic table with a sigh. He looked around for walkers (living walkers that is, because there were plenty of dead ones still littering the prison). They were all stuck behind the huge fencing that protected him. But a day ago it was a different story, when the prisoner him and Rick had thought dead, allowed the walkers in to their new home, killing T-Dog, Lori, and Carol.

Daryl heard Carol shouting his name but didn't know where she was. All he could see is that green eyed neighbour of his as she pulls back from kissing him. How he wanted to grab her arm and pull her back to him, to tell her not to go back into that house with that alcoholic father of hers. But he couldn't speak, he couldn't move. Then the walkers come and she's not alive anymore. The green of her eyes turned cloudy white, her peach skin grey and covered in scratches, her beautiful long hair, tattered and dirty. He couldn't get away from this walker, it was in the truck with him, but she didn't attack him, didn't bite him. She just got out of his truck and headed into her house. Then Carol was back, shouting his name and telling him to wake up.

He woke up then, but he didn't remember falling asleep. He was back outside on the picnic table, his legs and back stiff from sleeping upright. Carl was looking at him like he had three heads
"Beth's made breakfast." That was all he said before running back into the prison away from the mornings heat, his Father's hat bouncing on his head. Sighing Daryl rubbed his eyes and followed him inside.

The walker with the long tattered hair, and the denim jacket too big for her stumbled past him as he sat in his truck, stirring out the window towards the house that it once lived in with her father, the windows where still boarded up but the door was hanging on a single hinge, practically lying on the hall way brown leaves and old newspapers littered the wood floor of the hall and he watched as the walker blundered through the house, turning lights on and humming. She turned back to look at him as he followed her and smiled her skinless lips covered in other peoples blood. She then began pulling pots down from the shelves and getting vegetables from the pantry, he looked down he had rabbits in his hands their little eyes lifeless and their bodies oozing thick red blood. He dropped the rabbits in disgust and turned from the walker making stew towards another walker, this one was anger his bloated belly barely covered by a dirty white vest, a whiskey bottle clutched in his right hand, it went straight to the female walker and grabbed her by her long tattered hair, pulling her to the floor, it poured the bottle of whiskey over her throwing the bottle at her when it was empty, the female walker screamed, deafening Daryl but he couldn't move, he watched as the grotesque walker punched and kicked at the female walker. Then it was over. he was back in his truck with his neighbour pulling away from their kiss, but he could move, somehow he grabbed her and pulled her to him wanting to feel her warm and alive, but she wasn't, her skin was ice cold and slimy, and as he looked up there it was again the female walker, her dead eyes burning holes into his…

That's when Daryl bolted upright, sweat pouring down his face his hands shaking and with at least four pairs of eyes on him. Beth, Maggie, Glenn and Carl had all been woken by Daryl's shouting. He didn't remember talking in his dream/ nightmare. Had he?

"Daryl, you okay?" Glenn asked quietly so not to wake anyone else, he looked over at the Greene girls who both looked exhausted, then up at Daryl as he sat up on his perch.

"Ye." Daryl whispered back, rubbing his eyes and pulling the blanket off himself "just fine."

"Okay?" Glenn, the girls and Carl all headed back to their beds leaving Daryl alone with his thoughts, he was going crazy he had to be, why else would he be dreaming about a girl from years ago, from before the walkers came. What was he going to do? He was exhausted and couldn't go on like this.