A/N

First Walking Dead story let me know what you guys think. It's AU but will follow most canon as of now, but I will change things at my leisure. If anyone wants to beta read or help me out with some dialogue PM me, I'd appreciate the help.

Rate M for language, violence, and gore.

I don't own anything but my OC

The sun was barely up, crickets still chirping when he felt something hit his face. He tried blinking the sleep away before he heard a raspy voice "Pack only what ya need. If ya ain't ready by the time I get back i'm leavin' witout ya. " He heard the front door slam shut before he sat up moved the backpack off his body. He moved slowly, still weary from sleep. He packed his clothes first, then moved to where he kept his hunting gear and picked up his multitool.

He placed his dad's old KA-BAR in the sheath and strapped it to his belt. Then walked to his dresser struggling to budge it to the side. Once he moved it enough he crouched down and removed the loose plank on the floor. Pulling out the shoebox he opened it, removed the pistol, and held it in his hands for a minute. He had found the piece on the edge of a creek bed when he was in the woods a year ago it was caked in mud and what looked like dried blood, so he cleaned it and hid it in the shoebox only taking it out to practice whenever he ventured deep into the woods.

His dad had taken him shooting over the years, quite possibly the only time he showed interest in him. He sighed thinking that was the only time his dad ever showed pride in him. The memories of shooting practice made him feel good, maybe even happy. He squashed his thoughts and placed the pistol and a half empty box of bullets in his bag and went to grab a few water bottles and energy bars. All packed up he sat on his porch waiting for his dad to pull up in his old pickup.

He sat for hours on the top step just waiting wondering what was taking him so long. 'Maybe he just left.' The thought crossed his mind more than once. Either way he would wait, he didn't know what else to do, where he would go. His dad didn't even tell him why he was in such a rush. Just heard him muttering about 'crazy fuckers' attacking people. What was so important that his dad was even awake before noon?

After a few more hours, a rumble of an engine perked him right up. He stood up when he saw the familiar pickup truck. He cringed as the tires squealed, and the truck came to a halt. His eyes went wide for a fraction of a second when his dad whipped open the door, and came barreling towards the trailer clutching his neck. "Fuck out the way." His dad growled as he shoved him out of the way and opened the door to their home. "Fuckin' psycho motherfucker fuckin' bit me." He heard the string of curses coming from the house before he entered careful not to get in his father's way.

He watched as his dad entered the bathroom looking in the mirror to see the severity of the wound. "Shoulda' shot 'im in the fuckin' head." He said to himself before moving to the living room and plopping down on the couch. Minutes passed before his dad looked at him standing in the doorway and sighed deeply. "Get me a fuckin' beer would'ja." He jumped at his father's sudden demand. Taking a second before starting towards the fridge and grabbing a beer. When he got to his father he found him asleep so he placed the beer on the table in front of him and sat on the other end of the couch waiting for his father to wake up.

A little more than an hour and he almost fell asleep before he felt movement on the couch his eyes still bleary, but he could see his father was awake and standing up. The man was making an odd sound and he wiped his eyes to see his father stumbling towards him. His eyes went wide when he looked into his father's eyes his once dark pools of brown filled with nothing but hate, were now a cloudy yellow void. The sounds of teeth gnashing and vicious snarling filled the room. He willed his body to move, to do anything. He could only sit there as his father tripped over himself and landed face first into the floor, before grabbing at the couch to pull himself onto it. Teeth were inches away from his legs before he found the strength to push himself backwards falling over the arm of the sofa. He scooted backwards until he hit the end of the trailer, buying himself a few feet of distance. He had to do something. His father was climbing over the arm tumbling onto the floor one limb at a time until his weight was uneven, and he came crashing down to the floor still crawling never ceasing his advance. 'Do something, do something' he yelled at himself, pleaded with himself. He breathed in as deep as he could pulling into a crouch and steeled himself. His hands found his knife and he pulled it from the sheath and looked at the all black blade. He let the air in his lungs out all at once and lunged at his father and shuddered when he felt his father's skull give in to the force of the blade.

He tried to stand only for his legs to buckle. He stared down at the dripping blade then at the lifeless body of his dad. He stood up and swallowed the liquid that threatened to spew out, he felt like he could breathe again. He sighed looked down, and shook his head. "Should'a shot 'im in the head."

'What the hell am I supposed to do now?' He sat on the couch and felt his eyes grow heavy and resigned himself to sleep. A few hours passed before he stirred, stretching his arms, and wiping his eyes. Sitting up he looked around. He saw the corpse by the wall. 'Wasn't dreamin'.' Despite everything that happened that morning, that was the best sleep he ever got.

It's been a week, maybe two he can't tell. There was a decent amount of food in the kitchen, so he didn't go hungry, not that he ate much to begin with. Now, he was running low which means going to get more food or find somewhere else to stay and start rationing. His dad must have had a plan, he checked his room, and his truck and found nothing but gas cans and two cases of water in the bed of the truck and a box of ammo under the front seat. The only place left to check was his body. He paced around the trailer, he really didn't want to go near his father's body again. It took awhile, but he worked himself up to check. He looked down at the man. He didn't like him, but he's all he had.

Patting him down he found some things. A map, keys, his zippo, and his gun. He checked the magazine, fully loaded. He opened the map on the floor, his father had traced a route going to Atlanta. He sighed and looked down at his father's body. 'Guess I'll listen to ya one last time.'

He grabbed his backpack and checked to see if his knife was in place, before making his way to the pickup. He was too short to reach the pedals and still see, so he went back to his room and grabbed his shoebox, and found another one in his dad's closet. He secured them to the pedals and was relieved it worked. He laid the map out on the passenger seat, and turned the key in the ignition. Greeted by the rumbling of the engine, he pressed down on the gas. He almost jumped when it lurched forward, and grumbled to himself. 'Din't even put it in park.'

He drove for a while before he had to stop and check the map. Thankfully there was no one else driving, don't know what someone would've done if they saw him driving. It was a long way to Atlanta, he had no idea how long it would take. After figuring out which direction to go in he set off again.

He had to pull over too tired to see clearly, he decided to stop in a clearing on the side of the road and rest for the night. He ate half a can of tuna and studied the map some more, trying to burn it to memory. He fell asleep reading the map, laid across the front seat.

The sun wasn't even out yet when he was woken up by banging on the window. His eyes shot open, and sat up quickly thinking someone was trying to get his attention. He went wide-eyed when he saw half a dozen of those things surrounding the truck. He turned the key in the ignition in panic, and floored it. His heart stopped when the truck wouldn't budge, just ripping into the soft earth in a valiant effort to move. He let off the gas and breathed out "Fuck."

He hesitated going for his knife until he remembered what was in the glove compartment. He pulled his dad's pistol from where he placed it, clicked the safety off, cocked it, and slid the rear window open. He rushed out and climbed to the roof trying his best to assess the situation, while they all moved to the front of the truck. He took aim and a breath before firing. One. He aimed again. Two. Again. Three. Four. Five. Six. S'easier then huntin'.' He clicked the safety back on and tucked it in his waistband before going in through the window he went out. He grabbed the floor mats, and moved for the trapped wheels. After getting back on the road he grabbed the mats and got back in the truck. He drove forward and saw more than a dozen of them stumbling towards the car. 'They must'a heard.'

Flooring the car he ran through one of them and kept on going. He needed to make it to Atlanta. He had no other options, no idea what to do. He didn't even know what he was going to do in Atlanta, or why his dad wanted to go there in the first place. All he knew was what was on the map, his dad was smarter than he was so there was no point in coming up with a plan of his own.

With the gas in the bed the truck lasted another two and a half weeks before he was out. He got smarter at hiding the truck when he slept. Only ran into those things on four more occasions. He found a box of protein bars in a broken down car which kept him going for a while. He found he could ration one a day, which bought him precious time. He knew he would have to hunt soon, but he wanted to wait for the gas to run out since he would be on foot anyway. He loved hunting, the woods were more his home than the dingy trailer he left behind.

He walked along the highway, then stopped and stared at the mess of cars strewn across the road. 'Would'a had to get out anyway.' He continued through the litter of cars pausing to search through some for food or water. He found a jug for a water cooler and drank as much as he could and filled the four empty bottles he brought. No food though, which meant hunting was a must. He walked for a couple more hours until he started getting hungry. 'Should'a went huntin' fore' I got hungry.' He climbed over the guardrail and started into the woods.

When he got deep enough he grabbed three long sticks, and started sharpening them. It took a while, but the spears he made should be enough to get some small critters. He walked for a while looking for tracks and in trees for anything that would make a good meal. It was an hour before he saw a squirrel paused on the bark of a tree. He stopped immediately, creeping closer until he was sure he could hit it. He took aim, and threw one of his spears. He smirked to himself he saw the spear bounce of the trunk and fall to the ground with the squirrel attached to the end.

He wrapped the squirrel in a shirt and placed it in his bag. He was about to put his bag on when he heard twigs snap around. There were five of those things shambling towards him, boxing him in. He was shaking and he didn't know why. It was like he used to feel when his dad was drinking and he heard him get angry. 'Stop. Stop. Pa always said don't be no pussy. Ya ain't no pussy.' He spun around trying to see which one was closest. He picked up the spear he used for the squirrel and chucked it. Picking up another as the first hit it's mark. He let the second loose and picked up his last spear. He growled as he realized they were too close to throw anything at them. He backed up trying to get them to line up. One was in front of the last two who were shoulder to shoulder. He tightened his grip on the spear, rammed it forward, and ripped it back. It fell to the ground with a hole gaped in it's head. He slowed his retreat to allow the other two to get a little closer. He went for the one on the left first. He jabbed the spear forward again, but before he could pull it back, the one on the right grabbed for him. He jumped back and almost screamed when his foot caught on something sending him into the ground hard. Air knocked out of him and he gasped for it back, scooting backwards. The thing came tumbling after him apparently tripping over whatever tripped him. His back hit a tree and he found himself cornered. 'Ya never learn huh?' He cursed himself under his slowly regaining breath. He ripped his knife from its holster, and walked his back up the tree. The thing was on its knees trying to stand up on its flopping ankle. He breathed in, and lunged one hand on its chest pushing it backwards, other hand stabbing into its forehead. As they landed back on the ground, he kept stabbing, seeing his father's face, he stabbed, and stabbed, and stabbed. He turned the knife around and handle first he bashed the knife into the things head. He couldn't stop, bashing and bashing until he felt a tear roll down his cheek.

He ran an arm across his face and stood up looking down, the things head was just a pile of pulp. 'Ya ain't no pussy.' He staggered back to his backpack, and slung it over his shoulder. He started towards the direction of the highway, he was close to the city only a couple hours to go. He wanted to get out of the woods and sighed in relief when he saw a road, deciding to get out of the trees he walked towards it. Walking along the road he saw a large building, it looked like a warehouse or a factory. He got to the front and saw 'Pump Station' written across the top of the building. "Water!" He smiled a genuine smile when he thought about going for a swim and cleaning off.

The road split off in two, the left seemed to go along the ridge, so he chose that direction. The road going down the rock face seemed to go on forever. When he got close to the bottom he saw movement, something running so he took out his knife walked slowly keeping quiet. He heard laughter and flinched. 'Tha' fuck was that' He took a breath and started walking again. A twig snapped under his foot and he cursed to himself, before his eyes went wide when he heard screaming.

"Mom! Shane!" He heard a boy scream in panic. One minute a boy and a girl were running around the next they disappeared behind the brush, screaming their lungs out. He slowly pushed past the brush. He was halfway out when he heard a cocking to his left and froze. He looked to his left and saw a man with a shotgun and a badge pinned to his belt. 'Fuck.' He's seen what cops did to his father so he mimicked his father's movements. He sighed and put his hands behind his head and got on his knees. He knew he was in trouble, he must have killed twenty of those things, not even counting that he killed his dad.

(Shane's Pov)

"Aight' Glenn you got the list, you think you can find it all in the city?" Shane asked an Asian guy with a ballcap.

"Yeah there's a couple spots I haven't hit yet, should be able to get everything." Glenn assured him. He looked shaky obviously not liking the idea of going back into the infested city. Shane was about to say something when he heard a scream that sent shivers down his spine.

"Mom! Shane!" He grabbed his shotgun and ran for the source of the screams. He passed Carl and Sophia and pushed them towards the camp. "Go to your mothers. Now!" He kept running until he saw a bush rustling. A head poked out, it was covered in blood and guts on the top of his head and his shoulders. He saw a leg come out. 'Fuck he's barely taller than Carl.' He cocked the gun and all the muscles in his arms tensed, he urged himself to pull the trigger. 'Used to be a kid. No older than Carl.' His breath hitched in his throat when he saw the walker look at him and put his hands behind his head and got on his knees. "What the fuck?" He stared as the kid looked away and stared straight ahead 'Walkers don't fuckin' do that.' "You alive?" He was met with silence as the kid just stared straight ahead.

"What the fuck?" He heard to his left. He was definitely in trouble. 'Shit!' He yelled at himself. He should have been more careful. He should have scouted, but he was so excited about the prospect of not having to worry about water. It was a stupid mistake and now he was gonna pay for it. "You alive?" he heard the cop almost scream at him. 'Is he dumb?' Why wouldn't he be alive?

"Answer me or I'm gonna' have to fuckin' shoot!" He gulped as he heard the cop scream and he looked back at him then behind the cop. He saw at least ten people behind the cop, mouths wide open. He looked the cop in the eyes. "Lawyer." He said and turned his head to stare in front of him. His head jolted back in the cop's direction when he heard boisterous laughing coming from an old guy in a vest.

"Holee' Shiet' that is fuckin' gold" The old guy had a hand on a younger guy's shoulder. "Please tell me yer' seein' what I'm seein' liddol brother" The younger guy just stared at him over the cop's shoulder with a wide smile.

"Shane stop he's not one of them!" Some lady came running towards the cop and put a hand on his gun. The cop lowered the weapon and started inching towards him. He put one of his hands in front of him still traipsing forward.

"You mind puttin' that knife down son?" Shane still had his hand up, and he looked at him. He shook his head and shoved his knife in his holster, then clasped his hands back together behind his head. He saw the cop nodding.

"Okay that's fine for now, why don't you stand up and come over here?" He looked at Shane up and down, and relented. He stood up and slowly walked towards the cop stopping a couple feet away from him. "Are you okay? What the hell happened to you?" He looked at the ground. His dad told him not to talk to cops without a lawyer. That's how they 'lock yer' ass up.' "Hey kid what's your name? Where're your parents?" He looked back up at Shane, eyes a little wider.

"Lawyer." He said not breaking eye contact.

"It doesn't exactly work that way anymore son." Shane went to put a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped back and growled low. "Alright, alright no problem." Shane ran a hand through his hair and looked at the woman who had run up to him. "I don't know what to do here Lori."

The woman, Lori walked up to him crouched a little to meet his eyes and smiled faintly. "Why don't we get you cleaned up sweetie. You could use a good wash." She reached for his hand and before he knew it he took it. Her hand was a little shaky like she was scared or something. She led him to a bathing area. "If you need any help I'll be right outside ok, Do you have any clothes?" She had a hand on his shoulder and he looked into her eyes. He slid the backpack off his shoulders and pulled out a change of clothes. She nodded and smiled "Ok, like I said I'll be right outside." She touched his cheek and he flinched a little. She looked at him for a second longer before leaving him to wash.

He got dressed and made his way back to the main camp. He paused when he heard people talking ahead. He could make out Shane's voice, but not the others'. "I mean what the fuck was that, the kid looked like he bathed in walker guts." Shane said and he walked a little closer trying to keep hidden so he could see who was talking and what they were saying.

"We don't know what he's been through or how long he's been out there, we need to give him some time. All that blood, it had to be something terrible." An older man, older than his father was spoke. He inched forward some more peering around a tent.

He froze when he heard movement behind him. "Ya ain't as sneaky as ya think ya are." His shoulders slumped, it was the old man who was laughing earlier. "Ya ever get tha' lawyer ya asked fer?" He asked chuckling to himself. He looked at the old man and shook his head. "Ya really should work on bein' more stealthy like." The old man chuckled walking away.

He sighed and rounded the tent, wanting to get this over with. He made it all the way to one of the logs before the older man talking to Shane jumped when he noticed him followed by Shane and the black guy. "Jesus kid announce yourself next time, sneakin' around's a good way to get shot." Shane said eyebrows furrowed before his face lightened, as if he realized something. "Uh, look if you don't feel like talking why don't you just go catch some shut eye. You can bunk with Glenn if you want. He's the Korean kid, his tent's set up next to the RV." Shane stared at him for a minute and sighed when he saw he wasn't going to talk. "Aight well you're gonna have to talk eventually, but I guess we'll give you some adjustin' time. Go on get some sleep."

He looked at Shane for a second and turned on his heels. He was going to walk towards the edge of camp when he saw another fire away from the main camp. 'Need'a cook my squirrel.' He approached the fire and groaned when he saw the old joker from before.

"Well lookee' here liddol brother we got ourselves a houseguest. Better make yerself presentable Darlyna." The old man yelled back towards a tent.

"Fuck off Merle." His brother came out the tent and stopped when he saw the little boy standing by the fire. "The hell he want?" He asked his brother pointing at the boy.

"How the hell should I know? Why don't you ask him Daryl?" Merle motioned toward him while looking at Daryl. He took this as his cue to point at the fire. Daryl looked at him and spit at the ground. "Well, get to it then." He set his bag down and took out the wrapped shirt. He could feel their eyes watching him. He put the shirt on the ground and grabbed a stick laying on the ground. He took out his knife and started sharpening it. It only took a minute before he poked the end to test it. Merle had lit a cigarette and was watching him with a raised eyebrow. He grabbed the shirt and unwrapped it laying it on a log. He heard Merle chuckle. "Catch that on yer own?" He stared at him for a couple seconds and nodded. "How'd ya kill it?" He grabbed the stick and raised it before setting it down. "Well I'll be damned Darlyna we got ourselves a bonafide Caucasian spearchucker over here." He went back to work on the squirrel and cut it open, placing bits of meat on the stick. He set the stick leaning on the edge of the fire. "Who taught ya?" He looked at him then back at the fire. "You fuckin' mute er sumthin'?" Merle snarled at him.

He looked at him then back at the fire again and spoke under his breath. "Kids listen, they don't talk."

He grabbed a bottle of water from his bag. He took a sip from the bottle and risked looking at Merle. His face was softer.

"Who the fuck tol' you tha'." Daryl growled from his chair, picking at his nails.

"Pa." He spoke low almost whispering. He picked up the stick and bit a piece of meat off.

"And where the hell is he?" Merle asked his voice wasn't rough anymore.

He looked Merle in the eyes and bit another piece off, and took a sip of water gulping it down. "I killed 'im."

Reviews help, speak your mind, I may or may not use suggestions as I have a baseline for how I want the story to go.