What's Real?

Crisp winds whipped through darkened dirty blonde hair as Daryl sped down the long stretch of road leading to his brothers place. The motorcycles deep roaring engine echoed through the surrounding trees and forest lining each side of the road. Swiftly turning unto the short gravel driveway, he brought the bike to a hault and dismounted. Before the trailer lay a yard full of scrap metal and junk of mechanical nature. Unwatered, dead grass, empty bottles and cans, and a unfortunate feeling of familiarity. Merle's place was an all round sight for sore eyes.

"Merle! ... 'M comin' in." He yelled out announcing himself before making his way up the creaky wooden stairs and in through the unlocked door. Merle was sitting on a low level, faded, and beat up brown couch about three feet away. In his underwear, a dirty white wife beater, and a half gone cigarette hanging out his mouth.

"Haah.. ha.. ha.. Heey baby brother, brought ol' Merles bike back ta' papa I see." Clearly very strung out, as his words spread wide and slightly slurred aswell. His bloodshot eyes remained half shut, looking glossy and yet slightly euphoric. Daryl didn't say anything in response but gave a affirming nod. Scowling within himself, he felt spite and anger flare up a bit. The sight of this all, brought back unwanted memories and left him needing to leave as soon as he appeared.

Standing in the small kitchen and now leaning against a small counter, Daryl pulled out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. He lit the end and took a long drag as his eyes narrowed more than usual, looking on towards Merle.

"Cleaned up the Triumph." Daryl admitted after a long silence, and Merle didn't seem to have cared or maybe he just wasn't listening. Fresh puffed smoke clouded between them. The tension grew thicker too. Finally Daryl ended the silence, and once he butted out his smoke in the tiny sink behind him, he turned to face his brother face to face.

"Yano I'm done watchin' ya leave it out wherever tha fuck ya g'on a binger at. Had ta' fish it outta tha fuckin' ditch this time." Daryl spat angrily at Merle. Frustrated more every second as he watched Merle's expression; He just didnt give a fuck. Seeing Merle like this reminded him of their dad, a careless user, and always letting everyone else clean up after him. Everyone usually being Daryl, most of the time.

"Yeeah-yea. Quit yer yappin' n' get yer brother a damn beer. Make yerself useful fer a change." He slurred back with a daring smirk on his face. Then flicking his cigarette butt at Daryl's feet, he let out a low chuckle. Clearly welcoming the idea of a fight.

"Ya maybe my blood, but I aint doin' shit fer ya t'day. Done enough already." He glared back harshly and kicked a empty bottle at his feet toward his brother.

"..So do it yer damn self!" He threw his hand up in a gesture of frustration and disreguard to his brothers request. It was obvious to him that it was time to go before the moment got extra ugly. As Merle's current drugged out state left him obnoxious and hard to talk to. He turned on his heel fast and practically stormed out of the trailer, letting the dooor slam hard as he left his brother alone.

Kicking at the stray rocks as he walked through the small crowded yard, he looked upon the bike he rode in on and stopped next to it. After few seconds of thought, he shrugged and remounted the bike and kick started it back to life. The engine flared quickly and with a quick mental check, he was off again. The thoughts swirling in his head were angry and full of distain towards Merle for the way he was in now.

His nose and cheeks turned pinkish as the wind chilled his face and hands. The sun had fallen just below the tree line that surrounded the road he went down. As the skies turned a dark orange and pink, the tree line went dark and black. Dark blue slowly seeping into view as he pulled into the second side street he passed coming into a more residential area of town.

Daryl slowed and pulled into the parking lot of a run down looking apartment building and parked the bike close to a side door. Climbing up a set of metal stairs leading up into the dark blue building, he was next to silent. Arriving on the third floor, he made his way down a narrow hallway to a door numbered 304. Pulling a set of keys from his right front jean pocket, and unlocking the door. Closing it quickly behind himself as he entered the darkness.

Flicking on a lightswitch, his kitchen and living room became dimly lit. Not even bothering to kick off his shoes, he walked over and flopped down on the grey and blue couch opposing the tv, and grabbed the remote off a coffee table and turned on the tube. It came to life flickering and buzzing in and out of reception.

"Piece a shit" He grumbled. Getting up and going over to give the thing a solid Thwack. As the black and white screen came to life, he squinted in confusion at what he saw on the screen. It was a Breaking News Bulletin being broadcasted on all the channels.

The reporter was looking rather distraught while trying to keep it together for her report. Slowly backing away and taking a seat on the couch once more. His elbow resting on his right knee, hand across his forehead, as if shielding the sun, but rather subconciously shielding his brain from the obscure news he was gathering from the tv as the female reporter finally began the story again. The story telling the world that a new severe unknown disease was sweeping the nation, causing a lethal fever that is said to bring on death within days if not hours.

Daryl frowned to himself as he broke away to find the fridge. Grabbing a beer and twisting off the cap, he took a big swig. Sighing as he now leaned against the far counter. "Guess the worlds finally goin' ta' hell" He finally confirmed to himself outloud.

Now realizing this seemed to be too real to ignore. His eyes now looking like blue steel, his confusion now faded, as the news cut to footage of patients running out of a hospital as if hell hounds were on their heels. Shrieks and screames echoed through the recorded view on the tube. Questions finally being answered, as something less than human looking came quickly staggering out of the hospital.

The news cast clearly surprised as an unedited 'oh shit!' was crystal clear on audio. The bloody patient gown stood out, as the being on the screen lunged at a woman who had frozen in her tracks. Daryl's narrowed eyes widened as he watched the dead-looking rabid patient grab the frozen female and sunk it's fierce teeth into her throat. Ripping away a chunk of flesh the size of a baseball, her blood spewing prefusely as gurgled screams continued. The camera started shaking violently, and the camera man yelled in fear as he started to run himself. The jostled image then cut out and the news logo took over the screen with a long beep... as if the broadcast just fell deadline.

"Fuck sakes." Daryl muttered before downing the rest of his beer and thinking for a long moment before he left the kitchen to move into the bedroom. Grabbing his backpack from the floor, he started to grab all of his weapons and useful survival gear, stuffing it all in the main big space. For when the time came for him to leave his apartment, he knew he was going to be ready. Clearly not far off from having to take some sort of action to keep himself safe, as shit was really going to hit the fan. He held the bag open with both hands, peering in as he went through his checklist aloud.

"Flashlight, check. Knife, check. Dry clothes, check. Water, check. Rope, who knows what'th fuck I'll need the stupid rope for but hey, check. Extra Bolts, check." He let go of the bag and turned to open his closet. He picked up his small duffle bag of hunting gear which included his rifle, colt and a decent amount of ammo.

Lastly, but not the least, his favorite, his pride, the Horton crossbow in the corner of his closet, carefully proped on a shelf against the corner of the closet. He picked it up and pulled the crossbow over his arm, shoulder and head to place it comfortably on his back, ready and loaded with as many bolts as it could hold. Having 5 extra in a custom made sheath attached to his backpack.

Daryl grabbed his poncho and shoved it into his backpack before leaving the bedroom and making his way into the kitchen. He opened his freezer and took one full mickey of Jack that he'd been saving and put it on the counter. Opening his cuboards, all he found was two cans of tuna and three packs of instant noodles.

"Figures." He scoffed to himself as he placed the items on the counter next to the mickey. Pulling open the drawer directly below the placed items, he pulled out a few first aid tools and supplies. After putting all items in the second smaller pouch in his bag he quickly went to the bathroom, quickly taking all of his medications and antibiotics left over from previous health altercations or Merle.

Finally he was ready. It was tome to go fetch Merle. Blood was blood. Daryl shut down everything before leaving his apartment. Locking the door behind him, and also taking out his cigarettes. He lit one up, while calmly looking out into the night. His location still dormant and untouched by the expected chaos to come.

Sighing once more, Daryl shook his head thinking about how surreal this inpending threat seemed. Once out of the building, he strode over to a black pickup truck and took a few minutes to load the bike up in the black aswell as all his supplies. He wasn't sure of what the plan would be after he met up with his brother, but he figured they would go hold up somewhere till it all blew over in the city.

Getting in the truck, he lit another cigarette and took a deep drag before starting the motor. He re-adjusted the rearview mirror and took hold of the wheel and backed out of the parking lot. Leaving his apartment behind him, he drove off into the night again.