**The Reason Why - Chapter One**

"Time to get out of here, little brother."

Daryl Dixon looked up from the motorcycle he was working on, a scowl on his face. It was a hot and humid Georgia afternoon and Daryl had a line-up of motorcycles and cars that needed his attention before he left the garage for the day. The last thing he needed was to have to deal with his (probably) drunk older brother for the rest of the afternoon.

"The hell you talking about, Merle? I have ta finish my shift. Y'know damn well I can't afford to leave early. Got shit I gotta take care of."

"Well now, you got yourself into that mess didn't you?" Merle grinned down at him and clapped him on the shoulder. "Been there a couple o'times myself. Never dug myself as deep as you, mind you." Daryl glared at his laughing brother in disgust. "Probably won't have to worry yourself about it soon, ain't you been watching the news?"

Merle strode across the oil spattered floor, avoiding random car parts that cluttered the garage and turned on the television that was balanced on a shelf in the corner. "Check it out, the world is ending, little brother, people are going crazy."

"Like you watch the news," Daryl scoffed, barely glancing at the screen before kneeling down to tinker with the cycle again. It was a beautiful thing - a vintage Harley cruiser, all original. Daryl ran his hand over the engine, admiring the black and chrome machine. He couldn't believe anyone would actual trust him with it. There had been a day, not too long ago, when he would have just hopped on and ridden it away. A metallic clatter made him turn to glance at his brother, who was digging through a battered toolbox.

"We'll take this with us. Could come in handy."

"That don't belong to me!" Daryl stared his brother. "You crazy, Merle? What you on, little early in the day to be this ripped, ain't it?"

"I ain't on nothing, I swear. Something's going on, I tell you."

Daryl turned back to the motorcycle and continued to ignore his older brother. It had always been like this. Merle looked out for Merle and Merle alone. Unless he wanted something or needed your help. And since Merle had never needed Daryl's help, he was looking for something. A handout? Daryl sneered. This job was a good one, but it didn't pay near enough. Any money he earned already had a home, he couldn't spare any just so his useless brother could score a fix. He set to work on the motorcycle, trying to tune Merle's crazy ranting out of his head. Thing was, he and Merle had a bit of a reputation in these parts. Getting a solid job had been difficult. Both Dixon brothers had been known to overindulge in pretty much everything, drugs, alcohol, women, whatever.
They shared a ramshackle house that Merle had found abandoned at the edge of town. Merle would disappear for months at a time - with some woman or courtesy of the law - and Daryl never really knew when he would turn up, so Daryl fixed up what he could and considered it his house. Both of them had grown up in the woods and were probably more comfortable there than in the city. They lived off the land mostly, hunting and fishing. While Merle was perfectly happy to live that way, hand to mouth, day to day, relying on his wits and not much else, Daryl had tried to change. He had to change, really.

This job had been hard won and badly needed. It had taken him a lot of hard work and long hours to prove himself - to show his boss that he could do the job and was trustworthy enough to leave in the shop alone. Now, here was his older brother who would probably hang around all afternoon sitting on the cars and harass any customers that might wander in. Merle was gonna ruin one of the few good things he had going in his life.

"What was that?" Daryl turned in the direction of the television. "Turn that thing up!" Daryl stared at the small set as scenes of hundreds of vehicles jammed on the interstate flashed across the screen.

"See, I told you. We need to get a move on."

Daryl held his hand up for silence as he listened to the news reports.

"...police recommend that everyone remain calm and travel to the nearest city. In Atlanta, various decontamination stations have been set up throughout the city for those fearing infection and those already knowingly exposed. Shelter and food units are also standing by. I repeat..."

Daryl slowly turned toward his brother. "What the hell is goin' on?"

"The dead are walkin', little brother, and we are going to be their dinner if we don't get a move on."

"The dead are walkin'," Daryl shook his head and threw his wrench at the wall. "You're talking crazy, Merle. Get out of my goddam way. I need to finish this up!" Daryl shoved Merle aside and turned back to the motorcycle.
"Listen to me," Merle grabbed Daryl's shoulders, clutching his grease smeared overalls in his fists, and spun him around, forcing him look him in the eyes. Even though Daryl was slightly taller than Merle, the older brother roughly commanded his younger brother's attention. "Our no good government unleashed some shit and now we're all gonna pay. I know damn well what they're like. I worked for 'em long enough. I'm not drunk, or high. They showed 'em on TV, man. They're killing people, eatin 'em."

Daryl let his gaze drop so that he was staring at Merle's dirty t-shirt clad chest. His voice came out a cautious whisper. "Eatin 'em? Like...zombies? Like the movies?"

"Exactly," Merle offered Daryl a thin smile. "Just like some fuckin' movie. Zombieland right in our own front lawn."

Merle turned Daryl around to face the TV. Images of panic, chaos and carnage filled the screen.

"Jesus Christ! This...it can't be real."

"It's real and we need to haul our asses to Atlanta, right now. Go get some of our hunting gear and shit and get to the city." Merle began to head for the narrow door of the garage office.

"No!"

"No?" Merle turned around to face his brother. Daryl rarely disagreed with him. A good brotherly fight usually settled matters anytime he dared to. After all, Merle was the big brother and big brother always knew best.

"We gotta get Angel first, make sure she's safe," Daryl protested.

"No time, she's on the other damn side of town," Merle argued. "Besides, one less thing to worry about, am I right? Been nothing but a damn burden since she was..."

Daryl slammed his brother against the thin wall of the garage. "Shut the hell up. I ain't leaving without my little girl."