Author's Note: First of all, this is a stand alone story from my other ones, even if the same OC, Michelle, appears in here. (I wanted to do a bit of character study and see how different she would become if she'd met up with Daryl and the group early on rather than being found by Beth and Daryl midway through Season 4 after being alone for some time.) This will be a series of vignettes from different moments in time and not a day-to-day account of their lives through the apocalypse. Also, I may not go completely canon compliant in this story which, for me, is a very big departure from form. Nothing certain just yet though. And as always, a fair bit of warning that I feel the need to mention in all my author's notes: this story could be abandoned at any point since I have the unfortunate habit of not finishing the stories I start. And with that, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Note: Since I have not played Survival Instinct, I am going to ignore it and do my own take on how Merle and Daryl first found themselves around Atlanta.

Chance Encounter

He was following Merle. That, right there, could easily be the summary to the story of his life. Always a step or two behind his brother, always doing what Merle decided they were gonna do and in this case, it meant shoving all their stuff in his pickup truck and heading down to Atlanta. Reports of more and more people coming down with The Disease had lead the government to press people into moving toward the big cities for safety and they'd even shut down all the airports about a week earlier. And although the Dixon brothers were not really the type to listen to what the government was recommending, things had been getting weird even around their parts which had prompted this little road trip.

A few hours earlier, Merle had gotten back from God knows where, and at first, Daryl thought he was just tripping when he'd burst in and began throwing all the he cared about into bags - duffel and trash - raving like a lunatic about getting the hell out of Dodge. Well, it was either that or he'd just screwed the wrong guy's girl... or he'd stolen something from someone he shouldn't have. But regardless of the reason, his brother was spooked enough to want to leave and, of course, Daryl was going to go with him. It was only after they'd stopped at a some truck stop that Merle had finally told him what had gotten him in such a state. As it turned out, his brother had been out as his favorite dive most of the night - that one place up the road with some waitress named Sally who Merle was intent on adding to his list of bad decisions - when some guy had busted and literally took a bite out of the girl, like those stories the news had been reporting about.

If what his brother was saying turned out to be true, maybe Atlanta truly was the best option right about then, and that was where they were headed now. Merle was riding just ahead on his bike, calmer now than he'd been earlier, but that was most likely due the half bottle of Jack they'd shared at the truck stop. He was hanging back a little, not really in as much of a hurry as his brother to get to the big city. Especially not to be stuck like sardines with a bunch of strangers in some government run camp...

Running a hand through his short hair, he nearly didn't see the two people suddenly running out of the woods and coming to a screeching halt as they reached the highway, almost landing right in front of his truck if he hadn't slammed the break at the last second.

"What the hell people?!"

He shouted but the two on the side of the road didn't answer, too busy trying to catch their breaths. The man had to be in his late 50s to early 60s, based on the lines on his face and his salt and pepper hair. He was bright red in the face and probably shouldn't have been running the way they had. Wheezing loudly, he sat down on top of one of the two suitcases they'd been carrying and raised a hand up toward Daryl as if trying to silently apologize for jumping right in front of his truck. The woman next to him had her hands on her knees, bending forward and still trying to start breathing normally again, he couldn't her face, hidden behind a curtain of long ginger hair until she straightened up. She had dark eyes, just like the man, and her dark eyebrows told him right away that the curtails didn't match the drapes as Merle would say.

With that thought, he looked away from the two of them, and saw his brother way ahead of him. He honked his horn three times, before finally getting his big brother's attention and watched him turn his bike around and coming back toward him on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't continue down that way if I were you..."

The older man's voice was low and friendly-sounding if a bit raw from all the panting, Daryl looked over at him again, wondering how he dared tell him what he should be doing. He was about to give him an earful, telling him just that, but his words were buried under the roar of Merle's bike.

"Why the hell d'you stop, brother?" Merle shouted as he killed the engine, his eyes going from him to the man and woman next to the truck. "We ain't got time to horse around, if we're gonna make it to Atlanta before it gets dark."

The man was about to say something, probably ready to reiterate the warning he'd just given Daryl while the ginger-haired woman seemed determined on staying quiet, her dark eyes following him as he got out of the truck with a slam of the door and walked over to his older brother. "Those two just came running out of nowhere," he explained, giving a sideway glance at the other two. "I almost ran them over... That old man said we shouldn't be going that way."

Merle's expression told him right away that he was quite unimpressed with that explanation, eyeing him as if he was some kind of idiot. "And what the hell do we care 'bout what he's saying?" His brother questioned, flicking him on the forehead for added emphasis on how stupid he thought he was being. "We're going to Atlanta. End of the freaking story."

"You really shouldn't."

They both turned to see the man approaching them, telling the woman behind him to stay back with raised hand as he went. Now that he was standing straight, he looked much larger than on first glance, he was at least an inch or two taller than the two brothers and in his younger days, he could have potentially taken them in a fight. But this would have been many years and many burgers and beers ago. He was approaching them carefully, and Merle already looked as if he wanted to kick the man's teeth in for telling him what to do, a feeling that Daryl had shared a few minutes ago, but now that the man was actually repeating the same warning, something made him believe they might wanna listen to him.

Merle was taking a step forward when Daryl blocked his path with one arm, much to his brother's surprise. They exchanged looks; Merle's asked what he was doing, while his own tried to tell him to listen to the man at least.

"Look, it's none of my business," the man acknowledge, standing just out of arms range. "But, we just spent a week stuck inside Atlanta International and..." The man shuddered, before shaking his head. Whatever had happened back there seemed to have really rattled him. "It's really bad."

"It's really bad," Merle mocked, throwing his hands up in some girly way for good measure before scoffing. "It ain't any better out here, pal," he spat at the man before turning his head toward him and telling him to get back in the truck, that they were leaving. As he took a sit on his bike again, he added, "The military's protecting folks against them infected ones in the cities, at least."

"The military's shooting people on sight!" They all turned at once, toward the woman who was still standing by the truck, passing a hand through her long hair, her low voice shaking as she spoke. After running her tongue along her lips as she took a deep breath, she continued, calmer this time, with the sort of distress seeping into her words. "Infected or not, they just started shooting at the crowd. That's when we ran."

This revelation somehow didn't surprise Daryl that much, but Merle still had respect for military men even after his dishonorable discharge. As he glanced over to him, his brother looked like someone had just hit him in the gut and he didn't know whether to fight back or disappear somewhere to lick his wounds in private. Instead, his brother shoved the arm Daryl was still holding him back with aside and cursed loudly before kicking an abandoned tire into the woods, still shouting in anger.

"Sorry to be bearers of bad news like that. I'm John, by the way," the man stepped forward hand extended toward Daryl. "John Mason, and that's my daughter, Michelle."

Daryl hesitated to shake the man's hand, looking over at Merle first for some sort of guidance or signal of what he wanted, but his brother was too busy with pacing like a caged animal to give him any kind of attention. Finally, he took the man's hand and gave it a quick shake.

"I'm Daryl. That's Merle." There was a long pause, cars whizzing past them and before he knew it, he added: "You two need a ride?"

Author's Note: I must apologize for the clichéd last name, I just couldn't help myself!