Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Walking Dead.
Meet Me When the World Ends
Chapter 1
Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the glint of red and blue lights in her rear view mirror. Her hands trembled and gripped the steering wheel a little harder. She flinched and pulled herself together, relaxing a little as the cars spend on. She could see the beginnings of a traffic snarl up ahead, and she quickly reached to turn on the radio. Static. She realized she was at least 60 miles from home, which probably accounted for the fact that her regular station wasn't coming in. So, she scanned through the stations, each one coming up static.
With a frown, she turned the radio off and tried to relax in her seat. She tried to chalk it up to the car being old and the radio finally giving out, but the further she drove, the slower the traffic became, until she was just creeping along the interstate listening to the cacophony of horns honking and engines rattling.
She spotted more red and blue in her rear view mirror and quickly rolled up the windows as the sirens began to blare.
Please don't wake the baby. Please.
She peered over her shoulder to see Sophia sleeping soundly in her car seat with her favorite rattle still clutched in her chubby hand. Another wave of sirens. This time, three ambulances came whizzing past in one direction, followed by four more going another.
She grabbed for her cell phone, finding she'd gotten three messages in the hour since she'd taken a bathroom break and fed Sophia.
Where are you? Did you take the right exit past Senoia?
Are you listening to the radio? Something's going on.
Carol, I'm taking Rick and Carl to the hospital. They've come down with something. God, I hope it's not what they're talking about on the news. Call me when you're close.
Carol felt her heart stop for a brief second, before she reached to turn the radio on again. She tried, to no avail, to pick up a station. When she turned it off again, she shot a quick message to Lori.
What's going on? I'm about two hours away, but I'm stuck in traffic. Lori, there are cops and ambulances everywhere.
Her phone beeped to inform her that the message could not be sent due to no service.
"Shit." She chewed her lip for a moment, eyeing the line of cars ahead of her. With a glance back at her sleeping baby and then back up to the line of ambulances making their way through the snarl up the road, she made a decision. She checked behind her before peeling out onto the shoulder and starting up to the next exit. It seemed pretty clear, save for a few cars that seemed to have the same idea.
Once she was clear of the interstate and safely off the exit, she made a stop at a travel station and pulled up under the bright fluorescent lighting. She checked her phone again. Still no service. With trembling hands, she pushed open the car door and got out, moving around to rummage through the back of her Jeep Cherokee. She grabbed one of the many bags she'd packed and found her lock box inside. She fidgeted with her keys, finding the small one that fit the box. She grabbed a twenty out of the stack of bills inside and locked it back up, shutting the Jeep up and pulling the car seat out, carrying it into the gas station, where the air conditioning chilled her to the bone.
"Excuse me, sir, is there a payphone here? My cell doesn't have any service."
"We ain't had a payphone here since 2011," the man behind the counter snorted. He was wearing what looked like a surgical mask over his mouth and nose. "But you'll be hard pressed to find anybody with a working cell phone. You best get what you need and get back out on the road. We're all out of cough medicine and face masks, but you might try on down the road a ways."
"What's going on?" Carol asked, keeping away from the clerk when she saw the stain of red seep through the mask when he coughed.
"Honey, I'd reckon it's the end of days. Or God's idea of a real sick joke." Sophia woke from her sleep and began to whine, and the man sighed. "Shit, just stay there, will ya? I might have another mask in the back. Ain't got one small enough for her, but at least you'll be safe." Carol felt her heart hammer in her chest, and she looked around the store, looking for any other shoppers, but the place looked like it had been looted. She'd honestly never seen a thing like it before.
When the man returned, he tossed her something wrapped in plastic from over the counter.
"Just take it and go," he offered. "Keep that little one safe."
"What is it?" Carol asked, shaking as she stood in the middle of the store.
"Nobody knows, but they sure as hell ain't findin' a cure. Just get outta here. Best advice I can give you is what I told my wife and kids. Go someplace where there ain't nobody else. Go on. Keep that girl safe." Carol nodded then, still visibly shaken as she left the store. She quickly strapped the car seat back in and made her way around to the back of the Jeep. She rummaged through a few more bags until she found one of Ed's old cigar boxes. She opened it up and pulled out the revolver she'd taken from the top shelf of their bedroom closet. She quickly loaded it, having watched Ed do so many times before. She'd never wanted to have to learn to use a gun, but she'd taught herself, quickly and quietly adding yet another skill to a set of many Ed never needed to know about.
She put the gun on the passenger's seat next to her and took off down the road, making a marked decision to stay away from the Interstate. She quickly found a country road and turned down it, breathing a sigh of relief while simultaneously feeling her stomach knotting up at how desolate and abandoned the road appeared to be.
Sophia began to fuss from the back seat, and Carol took a deep breath.
"It's ok, sweetheart. Everything's gonna be ok."
...
"What the hell's your problem?" Daryl asked, banging on Merle's door loudly. He was never one to cause a scene, but considering just about everybody in the neighborhood had up and left, he wasn't too worried about anybody hearing the ruckus. "Merle, open the fuckin' door."
"Just get outta here, baby brother," Merle growled. "Let me be."
"I got the truck loaded. We got food. We got ammo. All we gotta do is hit the road. Stop bein' a jackass."
"I ain't fuckin' goin'," Merle yelled. "Now get outta here, shithead." Daryl sighed heavily and kicked the door, wincing at the pain in his foot.
"I drove all the way across town to come pick up your sorry ass, now you get out here now, or I'm gonna kick the fuckin' door down," Daryl hollered. He wasn't a stranger to having to fight Merle over anything and everything ever fucking step of the way.
But just as he was about to kick the door in, he heard it unlock. He quickly grabbed the handle and yanked it open to find Merle already halfway across the room with his back to his brother.
"What the hell are you doin'? Ain't time for games, asshole. Get in the truck," Daryl panted.
"I ain't goin'," Merle barked, turning then to reveal the handkerchief in his hand, spotted with blood. "Whatever this shit is, I got it, and I ain't goin' nowhere."
"Mere, we gotta get you to the hospital."
"Yeah, 'cause they got a cure waitin' for us," Merle snorted. "You seen the hospital tonight? Yeah, I took a gander myself an hour ago. Trucks are drivin' off filled with bodies in sheets. You think goin' to the hospital's gonna help me? This hit like a fuckin' plague. They didn't know it was comin'. This is the end of days." He raised a bottle of whisky to his lips and took a long drink. He groaned as the liquid burned his throat, and he shook his head. "I'm dead, baby brother, and I sure as hell ain't gonna watch this shit happen to you. Get outta here. Don't come back."
"Merle…" Daryl felt his throat tighten, and he took a step forward.
"You got mud in your ears, boy? Did you hear a fuckin' word I said?" Merle brought his hand out from behind his back and brought it out to aim right at Daryl. "You want me to pull the trigger? It'd be a hell of a lot faster." Daryl froze in place, and he watched his older brother lean against the wall for support. "Just get outta here. I swore to myself when we buried mama and daddy that I wouldn't ever have to bury you, too. I broke enough promises in my life. Don't make me break this one." He coughed then, and his hand filled with blood. Daryl felt his stomach turn as Merle doubled over and coughed up a sticky, red fluid onto the floor.
"How…how can I help?" Daryl stuttered, digging his heels into the floor to keep from tearing up the carpet to get to his brother, the only person who'd ever been there for him in his whole miserable life.
"You can't. Told ya I'm dead. You get outta here. Let me clean up my own mess." Daryl felt the sting in his throat and in his eyes, but he knew better than to cry in front of Merle. He'd learned a long time ago that Dixon men weren't supposed to cry. If they cried, they got a beating. It was just the way it was, and despite the fact that his brother was saying goodbye, he wouldn't cry, because he knew that he was the only person in the world Merle cared about, and if he cried, Merle would lose it. If there was one last thing he could do for his older brother, it was to let him go the way he pleased. He was going to do it on his own terms, just like Merle Dixon always did.
The last thing Daryl Dixon heard as he drove away in his old pickup truck was the sound of a single gunshot piercing the cool evening air.