Hi there! I hope you enjoy my Daryl Dixon Fanfic! I don't own the walking dead bit I do own my OC, Erica Saunders.

"Shit" I forced out as another one of those creatures made its way towards me, groaning.

"Saunders, get out of here! Get to safety, there's too many!" Shouted the familiar voice of Mark Johnstone, best known as only Johnstone from the Sargent. "I'm not leaving any of you, you'll die!" I shouted back, shooting the zombie in front of me, my voice rising as my desperation to get to my team increased.

I wasn't as scared as I thought I would be for I had already suffered bad in the past, but the screams of pain from my fellow comrades were distinctive in my ears and did not go ignored as my long length, brown hair came falling out of its once neat bun sheltered by my helmet.

Clearly thought my hard hazel eyes I could see I was being separated from the people I call family undobtedly because of the massive amount of creatures around. In addition the gun which I had in my dirty rough hands was doing no good in bringing down the flesh eaters which we were deployed to here from the United Kingdom by aircraft to destroy.

My team were sent distinctively to Atlanta in America whilst other bases that were deployed were sent out to other states as America, in a whole is the first to be hit by the infection.

Unknown to us however the infection which was mentioned to us in England at our base was now spreading in other countries, one of them being the United Kingdom where most of my fellow army friends in my team were situated from as well as myself. Undoubtedly it would cause all of my team sadness because their love ones would be in danger of the same things we are fighting now. However if I was to of known this information I would not have been as desperate to go home as the others would have been because I had no family, unless you count my drunken abusive father, who I definitely had no intention of going back to even though I had not seen him in years from when I first joined the army 7 years ago at the age of 24. Now, at the age of 31 I had a loyal family, my team who I have built the strongest friendships with.

They are my family.

Shadows loom around us as the buildings which are high give the space we were in, darkness. We had to shoot them in the head which we soon knew from at first, many failed attempts to kill the creatures who were once human.

I tried moving forward to reduce the distance between me and my group but as I did so a corpse like person grabbed onto my army bag i was carrying which contained most of my survival gear, pulling it back and opening its bloody mouth looking for a good meal but i had seen from other soldiers experiences to slip my arms out of the straps leaving the walker to tumble to the ground. Successfully the bag was off my shoulders but as I turned around to shoot it in the head more zombie creatures came forward, making it impossible to get my bag from the floor.

Left without my backpack it left me in my army camouflage uniform with two guns strapped to myself along with multiple knives in case of emergencies minus the gun from which I was firing from at that moment.

Adapting from the pull I got a moment ago, I turned back to all the firing which I swear was the cause of having more creatures approach us. Turning around though I paused not seeing where Johnstone went as well as other people from my group. However suddenly a hand shot up from a group of the infected situated where Johnstone once was, a scream of pain meeting my ears.

Johnstone wasn't anywhere to be seen. Mark Johnstone was down.

It's been one month since that day which was the day my best friend and comrades died, eaten by the disease ridden creatures. I've been on the road since then, couping up in buildings and I've only managed to wash myself and clothes a couple of times when i get enough water for it.

From having many sleepless nights, half from nightmares which I wake up fighting an imaginary walker and the repetition of Marks death and the other half from actually having to run from zombies I knew I had developed dark circles around my eyes. Similarly my brown hair which was let loose looked like it definitely needed a bath with all the dirt that was in it.

I was on the search again looking for somewhere which wouldn't be zombie infested like the last place I stayed. It was hard though-with all the zombie as it lead to me having to run all the time from place to place which exhausted me.

What made it harder though was the non existant rain which left the hot shimmering sun to heat me up. However all though that was the case I wasn't about to take my uniform off which consisted a camouflage gear all the way down to my black boots which my trousers were tucked into.

I was hot, don't get me wrong, but I didn't want to show the scars which my right arm possessed on it all the way from my shoulder encasing down to my knuckles which were severely grazed from climbing up buildings. The only scar which was shown and not covered up was the one that trailed along the outside of my left eyebrow, stopping at the lower part of my cheek clearly seen and with not being able to cover it like my arm, it was fully on display.

At the moment though, i was crouching on the outskirts of the road and held a machete that I picked up when I was hauled up in a old building searching for water.

I was looking around and froze when my eyes seeped over a few zombies coming around two blocks away however just seconds after there came loads flooding out behind the building reaching my sight. They were two blocks away but close enough that made me hesitate wanting to go out to the tank which was situated across the road from me. It was an American tank but thinking that was the safest place for me to go and see if there are supply's I wanted to get there the quickest way possible.

I stopped though as the sound of horse hooves hitting the ground reached my ears and squinting my eyes, i looked on in shock as from two blocks away down next to load of zombies showed a horse rearing and galloping my way and in closer inspection I noticed a man sitting on the back wearing what looked like a sheriff hat.

Suddenly it dawned on me that the man could put me in danger, exposing me as the zombies ran after him. However when he got to the road across from me the horse reared once again obviously sensing the danger which ended up in making the man fall off its back and onto the ground, dropping the bag which was situated on his shoulder. Without looking back though because of the danger, quickly the man got up and ran off to the side but then got closed in again from zombies seeping in from the direction he was running to.

Flashes came back to me - he was there, Johnstone with a hand reaching up into the air and forcing myself out of it, I reacted and in haste and got out of my crouched position. I wasn't about to let another person die, I was going to help him.