I do not own Daryl Dixon, The Walking Dead, or any property in the American South.


The long stretch of highway watched in horror as Atlanta went up in flames. Somewhere, a woman began to scream. Some people went scrambling for their cars, while others grabbed their belongings and people and took to the hills. Merle leaned cooly against his motorcycle, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Guess'ts time to rethink, little brother."

Daryl scowled as his brother nearly spat on his boot. His eyes flickered across the scene in front of him as he rolled Merle's words around in his head.

Where the hell was there left to go?

Engines roared and horns blared as people frantically began backpedaling away from the city. The Dixon brothers stayed where they were, both having enough sense to realize that the best place to be was wherever the panicked throng of was not.

Two other vehicles stood unmoving nearby; families, it looked like to Daryl. Kids peered out of the open trunks, sitting among boxes and suitcases, while women paced and fidgeted. One of the men watched them cautiously. Daryl glared at the way the cocky summabitch hooked his thumbs into his belt and looked him and his brother over. Merle had noticed as well. He smiled at the other man.

"Beautiful night, wouldn' ya say?"

The man flexed his chest-exhibiting the printed letters POLICE- in a way that made Daryl's hackles raise. Before anyone had a chance to say anything more, growls erupted from the other side of his dusty pickup. They must have turned recently, blood still oozing from open wounds. The kids began screaming; Merle went into his pack while Daryl lunged across the bench seat of the truck grabbing for his crossbow. There was a screech of tires on hot pavement, a flash of light, a series of sickening crunches, all before he had the chance to raise his head and see the new car that sat where the geeks had just been, steam pouring from under the blood-splattered hood.

The driver's door swung open and a person tumbled out. The Dixons did not release their weapons and the mothers clutched their children close as the small group assessed the new arrival. The cop raised a flashlight and barked,

"You bit?"

The woman- they could see she was a woman now that she pushed long hair out of her face and squinted against the flashlight beam- shook her head.

"You okay?"

Breathing heavily, she nodded, then turned and looked at the damage to her car. She had plowed full speed into the geeks, eliminating the threat but also effectively bashing the hell out of the old Corolla. Daryl was closest and possibly the only one who could hear her soft voice.

"Shit."

One of the women, the tall bony one, went forward and touched her shoulder.

"You saved us all,"

Daryl snorted. Didn' save me, coulda handled things without her bustin' in. The new woman listened with an oddly blank face.

"Let us help you."

She hesitated while her eyes moved from one person to the next, accessing. Daryl thought he saw her gaze linger on the SS decal stuck to the front of Merle's bike. She slowly nodded, and allowed the cop and his wife to pop the trunk of her ruined car and help retrieve her things. Their boy spoke.

"I'm Carl, what's your name?"

She paused for a fraction of a second after placing a duffel bag next to him, then replied.

"Nora."