From a young age, Daryl had always tried to please his mother. Everything she ever asked of him, the young man would do almost without a second thought. If she needed the dishes washed, the yard cleaned up, anything. Daryl would jump to make sure she was feeling okay. At least, that's how it was, until the Merle passed away. Things had never been easy for the family, that was for sure. Their father was an alcoholic, and mom worked extra late hours to keep everyone fed. But Merle's death had been unexpected- a turn of events no one could have prepared for.
The phone call came a little after three in the afternoon, on a warm Georgia summer day. It always seemed a little stuffier up on the mountains, but Daryl never really complained. When the phone rang, it only took him two bounds before he had it picked up, wiping his dirty hands on a rag as he answered. "'Ello?" He stated, his southern accent thick as he waited for the person on the other line to speak.
"Yes, is this Mr. Dixon?" The other side piped, Daryl rolled his eyes.
"Nah, dad's asleep, he drank too much again. Can I take a message?" Daryl asked, grabbing a piece of scrap paper that was nearby. The pen in the young man's hand nearly snapped in half when the other person continued to talk. "What? Merle? Are you sure it was him!" Daryl asked, raising his voice now as his blue eyes darted around the house. Merle wasn't home. Daryl hadn't seen him since last night, after all. But to hear his brother had been shot to death, and they didn't know why, Daryl would have sworn it wasn't real. "We'll be there in a bit." Daryl stated before hanging up the phone and pawing at his eyes for a second as he gasped for air. How could his big brother be dead? His brother. His family. His blood. Daryl's lip quivered slightly as he continued to try and blink back the tears and fear that was swimming around in his chest.
"Ma!" Daryl called out, darting off towards her bedroom. "Ma! We have to go. Merle's..." Daryl almost couldn't finish the sentence as he banged on her door. "The police just called..." He managed, his mother opening the door and blinking down at him. Blue eyes darted up at her with the most sorrowful expression she'd ever seen on the boy as he quickly wrapped his arms around her and let out a shaking gasp.
Identifying his brother wasn't as hard as he'd thought it would be. But after leaving the area, Daryl couldn't help but get sick. It wasn't that he'd been disgusted by the dead body, that wasn't it at all. It was more or less the fact that the reality of losing someone he loved was setting in. Why couldn't it have been his low life father? Or some other idiot. Not Merle. Anyone but his brother. The car ride home was mostly dead silent until his mother broke it with a simple question.
"How are we gonna tell your dad?" She asked, turning to look at Daryl. The young man didn't have an answer for her. He couldn't even begin to think of one. Their dad was a drunk, he never paid attention. Daryl would have bet that if they told him, he'd think they were joking, and forget about it until he realized Merle hadn't been home for a few weeks. Then it would finally sink in. Shaking his head, Daryl opened his mouth to speak, but instead of just words, a broken sound mixed with them poured out.
"I dunno, Ma. I dunno..."
The years went on, and the family continued regardless of the problems. The older Daryl got, though, the more his mother seemed to push the idea of going to college. Getting a real job. Making the family money, and supporting them in their old age. Daryl would, of course, do anything he could to make his mother happy, and if that meant going to college, then Daryl would do it. He went to law school, and struggled through the classes. Each day was a challenge. He was often picked on, but in the end, he usually came out on top, physically. There was only one time that he got jumped after school, and the boys that did it were found a few days later, beaten up and bloody in the alley, and hardly alive. It seemed that after that, no one bothered the young Lawyer in the making. Daryl graduated, not with flying colors, but he did succeed. Eventually being moved to Washington D.C. and finding a job there, thanks to the school's relocation program. Daryl had never really been this far from home before, but the money was nice. At least this way, he was able to send his parents money, and not deal with his dad. There were several different accounts where Daryl wanted to pay to bring his mother out to D.C. to live with him, but due to the weather, which had been strange lately, and his busy schedule, he never got around to it.
Somewhere in the midst of time loss, and strange weather, something happened. Even though he should have, Daryl didn't watch the news often. It wasn't until he heard the emergency sirens going off, and people running in all directions that something even seemed terribly off to him. Perhaps the bloody mess of what looked like a human being shambling towards him was a wakeup call. When the creature of sorts caught site of Daryl, the man just acted. He'd taken the suitcase he had to carry, and beat the monster in the head. Everyone else was busy running, and in Daryl's mind, you shouldn't run, you should face your fears. Once on the ground, Daryl examined whatever the thing was. Human, once, it seemed, but that wasn't the answer Daryl had wanted to hear. Taking off his dark suit coat and button up shirt, Daryl left them laying on a park bench. Leaving himself in his white tank top, and dress pants and shoes. They weren't comfortable, but neither was the suit coat. At least this way, he'd be able to move a little more freely.
The young man headed back to his apartment, making it there without much problem. There wasn't much on the TV, like usual, not even an alert to explain what was happening. Daryl took this chance to change out of his dress pants, and shoes, and into jeans, and boots. Something he could move in, just like in Georgia. But that's when it happened, the alert came across the TV. It stated that Washington D.C. was something of a 'hot zone', and was going to be wiped out with a nuclear strike. As a small bit of panic gripped the young man's heart, Daryl darted out of the door with nothing but a shotgun, and his old hunting bow from when he was younger.
For being close to alone, Daryl seemed to be handling the news better than most. There were screaming women, which was expected, but also screaming men. One of which was seemingly pinned down by a zombie, and trying to use a suitcase to protect himself. Firing one shot at the creatures head, since that seemed to take it down before, Daryl extended a hand towards the stranger. "C'mon." He stated, staring down with matching blue eyes at the dark haired man. "We ain't got all day." He barked, moving to wipe the blood off of his face that had sprayed with the shot.
The man he'd located was none other than Jimmy Novak. A business man who had been visiting Washington at the wrong time, and gotten jumped by the monster. Taking the strangers hand, the shaking dark haired man blinked a few times. "Jimmy." He stated, as Daryl blinked at him a few times. "Jimmy Novak. That's my name. Thank you." He finished, trying to offer the man a smile.
Daryl blinked a few more times only to shrug. "Daryl. Daryl Dixon." He replied, rolling his eyes slightly as he looked away. What a time to make friends, he'd thought to himself before darting off. Jimmy, of course, wasn't about to let him go off on his own, or rather, leave Jimmy alone. Daryl didn't mind the other following him, it was human instinct after all. Not wanting to be alone. Daryl always felt like he strayed from that, and in the end, always wanted to be alone. But, seeing as how it was suddenly the end of the world, Daryl wasn't about to start complaining when his life was in danger.
Jimmy was simply lost in thought as he glanced around the scene. But there was some man, some man that he'd sworn he'd seen before, and he was also carrying around a shot gun. "Daryl! Look!" Jimmy had shouted out, pointing towards the man with green eyes and short hair. Daryl made a face before approaching, gun out, locked, and loaded.
"You know what these are?" The stranger growled out, pointing at the mangled corpse on the ground. "These are the sons of bitches that killed my brother!" He finished, firing upon the deceased once more. Jimmy apparently was unable to help himself as he rushed forward to grab the other's shoulders.
"Dean! It's me. Jimmy..." He stated, watching the other suddenly come to realization.
"Great, a family reunion, can we please go? The fuckin' place is gonna get blown up here, shortly." Daryl stated, waving his arm. He knew the feeling of losing a brother, and he knew Dean needed to get over it. "C'mon, people. Or I'm fuckin' leavin' without y'all." He growled as he continued forward.
Dean and Jimmy followed carefully, and to Daryl's surprise, Dean was quite good with a shotgun and aim. He must have been hunting since he was a kid, and he only imagined that he might have been from the south. Maybe not as far south, since there was a lack of an accent, but south. Of course, his thoughts were quickly broken apart at the sight of two boys fighting to get untangled from a mess or rope while shooting the zombies anywhere but the head. In a panic, Dean and Daryl both jumped forward, taking out most of the group, and Jimmy came in to cut them free.
"The fuck you think you guys are, Houdini?" Daryl growled out as the two boys thanked him.
"Who the fuck do you think ye are, Rambo?" The lighter haired one quipped back with a scowl, checking what seemed to be his twin brother over. "Are you alright, Murph?" He asked him with a concerned glare.
"I'm fine, Con. Next time, no fuckin' rope. It was a stupid idea to try and round them up with the rope. Movies or not, never again." He stated, blinking at the group before him. "Who're your friends?" He smirked, winking at his brother and nudging his shoulder.
Daryl couldn't help but roll his eyes at the group he'd managed to find, but they all had guns, and so far, it looked like they were the last ones. "C'mon. I've got a car right down the street. It ain't much, but it will get us where we needa go." Daryl stated, still unsure of where they needed to go besides away from here.
From within the shadows, a cloaked figure strode through the streets. A single gun slipping its tip out from under a long sleeved arm whenever a zombie wandered too close. He approached the boys carefully, stepping out from seemingly nowhere, and hiding his face. "You won't get far without supplies." He hissed, watching them all carefully. "I can guide you, but you only have a few hours." He finished, moving slowly in a circle around them. "Eight hours. I'll help you look for things to leave the city." The mysterious man was giving everyone the creeps, but by the sound of it, he knew what he was talking about.
"'Kay." Daryl spat back, watching the other carefully. Of course, it was the most creepy thing he'd ever seen, some stranger wandering up and offering them help. But in all honesty, with the way the city looked at this moment in time, he'd take all the help he could get as long as whoever was offering it was alive, and not rotting or trying to eat anyone's face off. "Lemme grab the car, you guys work with this guy. Find us some supplies, and we're leavin'." He managed before jogging off towards the location he'd given for his car. The rest of the group watched the stranger cautiously before nodding slowly.
"Tell us what to do." They said, because eight hours wasn't a lot of time to find everything you could need to get to safety. "We're going to need food, and ammunition!" Jimmy barked out, stating the obvious as everyone blinked at him. "I'm just... saying." He finished, claiming that duty for himself as he fixed his tie, and adjusted his collar before glancing down at the ground and wandering off.
It wasn't long before Daryl showed up with the station wagon, which only received a groan from everyone. "Shut yer fuckin' mouths. I don't seen y'all offerin' up yer cars!" Daryl hissed as he stormed off to go searching for gas, and other things that they would need. If the world was going to shit, Daryl didn't really care what they were driving, as long as it moved and kept the dead out.
