A/N - I'm aware that in many stories involving the MacManus brothers & Daryl Dixon the writer likes to write the speech as the characters would say it; for example ta instead of to, yer instead of your. I am trying to avoid that as I can trust the reader will be imagining those accents in their mind anyway. (I have nothing against people who write that way obviously!) I have used ya instead of you, that's my one exception!

Please REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW. I can take constructive criticism & I would like to know if my readers are enjoying the story.

Please see the links on my profile to get a better picture of what the characters look like (especially the OCs) Also I have made a promo cover for my fanfic which is also linked in my profile.

Enjoy!

Lx

May 13th 2010 - Boston

"I need to get those cigs back off that greasy, thieving bastard!"

Connor eyed Murphy pace back and forth in the cell they shared. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen his younger twin this enraged, of course he was well aware of his brother's short fuse; but he knew there was going to be a riot any minute now.

"Look Murph, we need to keep our heads down, wait for Eunice and Smecker ta get us out of this shit hole. Then we can have all the cigs we can shove down our throats. Just leave it brother, I'm asking ya."

Connor watched his brother's face turn an angry shade of red, his eyes locked on his.

"Con! You heard the way that arsehole Maxwell spoke to me!" Murphy's eyes snapped away from the gaze they had both been holding, and he continued to storm around the tiny concrete room, "I should of broke his jaw there and then! Clever piece of shit!"

Connor jumped at the sound of Murphy's fist smashing into the cell door. The darker haired brother had lost it now. Connor rushed to his side to check his hand, which was already swollen and starting to bruise.

"What the hell Murph! You aint gonna be no good to anyone with a broken hand! Just calm down brother, let me talk to him."

Murphy looked up at his twin brother and sighed, "You don't have to fight my battles Connor, and I'm not a baby. I'm only six minutes younger than ya."

Connor placed his forehead against his brother's and closed his eyes briefly, "I know Murph, but you're my blood. I love you and I don't wanna see ya hurt. We're almost free of this place, we don't wanna mess this up."

Murphy pressed his nose onto Connors before shuffling back to reveal one of his famous cheeky Irish grins, "Always the calm one Con. If he as much as touches ya though, I'll break his neck."

Connor rolled his eyes as he slipped through the cell door, "I'll be back in ten with your stupid smokes." He smiled.

To be honest, Connor was desperate for the cigarettes too. Smokes were hard to come by when locked up and that made it even worse when some 'tough guy' helped himself to your stash. It made Connor mad, not as mad as his hot headed brother, but all the same he was very annoyed. If it wasn't for the fact that their friends on the outside were in the middle of busting them out of prison, Connor wouldn't be approaching the man civilly; he would be punching him clean in the face and putting him in his place.

Connor approached the man who was sitting at a table, playing cards with some other arseholes. On spotting the Irishman, Maxwell got to his feet, puffing his chest out, his eyes narrowing in on Connor. He was one big son of a bitch. Not as much muscular, more tall and broad; he had to be at least 6ft 4. Connor felt slightly threatened as he only stood at 5ft11, but he soon picked up courage as he remembered the 'big guys' he and 5ft10 Murphy had taken care of in the past with their Berettas.

"Could I have a word Maxwell?" Connor spoke sharply as to show he wasn't afraid.

The taller man stepped closer to Connor, an evil smile crawling onto his smug face. "What do you want Mick? Come to beg for your smokes? Well too bad, they're mine now." He laughed and his idiot crew joined in with the laughter.

Stay calm Connor lad, think of the outside. Connor told himself in his head. "You took something that belonged to me and my brother, we want them back. No-one gets hurt." He growled.

Maxwell pushed his face into Connor's, eyes even more narrow than before. "You can't do anything to me in here, without your little guns and retarded prayers. You and your stupid brother of yours must be itching to shoot me huh?" His mouth moved to Connor's ear as he lowered his voice to a growl, "I killed seven innocent women on the outside… Strangled them with my bare hands… But you can't pull your saint bullshit off in here can you leprechaun? "

Connor began to see red. He just had to do something to this man before his head exploded. He let his head move back a little as he prepared to head-butt the fucker.

He never got the chance.

Murphy was on top of the large man within seconds of his remark. The Irishman slammed his fists down into Maxwell's face over and over until he was soaked in blood. "Thought you were safe did ya? Think I'd ignore the fact ya killed all those women? Fucking monster, I'll kill ya!" He roared as he wrapped his hands tightly around the man's neck. Maxwell started turning red, then purple. Connor tried to remove Murphy from the man but the younger brother was too strong and determined. "I'm gonna watch ya turn blue and watch your life slip away, like ya did ta those girls!" Murphy spat.

The guys at the table were frozen in horror, not even daring to move or help Maxwell out as his body became motionless under Murphy's weight.

The man was dead. Murphy had killed him within minutes.

"Fuck Murph," Connor dropped to his knees besides his shaking brother, wrapping an arm around him and pulling his face into his shoulder, "What have ya done?"

Everything happened so fast after that. The prison guards flooded in, prizing Connor's brother from his arms. He had begged them not to take him away, but his anguished pleas made no difference. He had no idea where they had taken him. He sat at the table that was previously occupied by Maxwell's gang. Maxwell was now being zipped in a body bag; his face was purple, saturated in blood, his eyes and mouth wide open in a terrified expression. Connor had to look away, as the fact that his brother had done this hit him hard in the stomach again. It wasn't like Murphy to flip like that; he was the baby of the two; the sensitive one, the one with the heart of gold. Connor should have known this was going to happen...

He had watched his Murphy slowly change in the last two months that they had been locked up. He put it down to the very fact they were imprisoned and nothing more. Now, he felt that prison life had affected his brother far deeper than he first thought.

His train of thought was interrupted as he realised he heard someone clear their throat.

"You should get back to your cell MacManus." The guard known as Rupert said. Connor shook his head sadly,

"I can't go back to that cell without me brother; I need to know what's going on with him."

Rupert gave Connor a sympathetic look. He was one of only a few guards who previously admired the saint's work and was fond of the Irish duo. "He's most probably being detained in isolation." He told Connor, "Look, this piece of shit in this body bag deserved everything he got, but Murphy is gonna be in serious hot water over this." He finished.

Connor felt like he had deflated. His brother, his closest and greatest friend in the world was going to be kept away from him for lord knows how long. Their chances of escape were more than likely gone in a puff of smoke now. He felt a small tug of relief when he heard a familiar voice.

"What the fuck went down in here?!" Romeo gasped as he entered the recreation area. Connor discarded any worries of looking ridiculous as he jumped up and hugged the Mexican tightly. Romeo wriggled awkwardly from the Irishman's grip, his eyes flicked around the room.

"What's got into you? And where's Murphy?"

Murphy was gone.

Connor felt despair once again. "Rome, he murdered Maxwell. He strangled him with his bare hands, not before smashing his face to a pulp," Connor swallowed down the hard lump in his throat, his voice cracked and upset, "I've never seen him like that, ever."

Romeo opened his mouth to speak, when the rustling and twitching of the body bag caught the three men's attention. A heavy cloud of eeriness shadowed the room. The man who was most definitely dead half an hour ago was now trying to escape from his bag.

"What the fuck?!" Connor mouthed as Rupert slowly approached the body. He fumbled with the zip before pulling it all the way down. Maxwell's pale hand rose from the bag, his fingers flexing, trying to grab hold of thin air. The low, droning growls began to panic Connor. This wasn't normal, not normal at all. Romeo had joined Rupert's side now, looking at Maxwell's face with disgust.

"His eyes man, they're cloudy and he has no pupils… That's some freaky shit!" He exclaimed. His eyes were wide and almost popping out with surprise.

Connor had a feeling that something major was happening, like people coming back from the dead major. He knew for a fact, as did Rupert, that Maxwell had been dead; and now he was groaning and twitching about with milky white eyes. Connor jumped up and quickly zipped the bag back up; narrowly avoiding his hand being bitten by Maxwell's chomping teeth.

"We need to get the fuck out of here, and I need to get Murph!" Connor yelled.

Rupert nodded; he didn't consider the rules of where prisoners were and were not allowed to go under the circumstances they were in.

"Connor, Romeo, come with me. I'll inform the others and we'll check on Murphy."

May 15th 2010 – Georgia

Daryl pushed his front door open with a large sigh of relief. Another hard day's work under the Georgia sun over with and time for a cold beer, he thought to himself. He shrugged his jacket off his tense shoulders and kicked off his work boots, his toes instantly feeling more relaxed and free. He made his way to the kitchen, switching on the radio to a song he liked by the Black Keys. He smiled to himself as he hummed along, reaching into the fridge to grab the crate of beer. He walked to the living area, opened one of the ice cool bottles and took a large swig, "That's the stuff," he groaned to himself as he sank into his lounger chair, his muscles aching from working on the farm all day.

Daryl enjoyed the simple things in life, mainly because all he'd ever had was simple stuff. He wasn't rich, he didn't own a fancy car or house. He was happy with his little house and his oh-so redneck truck. He worked most hours of the day, he enjoyed a drink at his local bar, but most of all, he enjoyed peace and quiet. That was Daryl Dixon; the abused son of alcoholics that the locals never imagined would hold down a good job and surprisingly hadn't died from a drug overdose or something by now. Just shows how much shit people know he smirked to himself.

He was on his second beer and debating what to make for dinner, when the song on the radio switched to an urgent news broadcast.

An update just in on the virus 'AX.20'. Reports show that the virus is spreading fast throughout America, along with reports of the virus being discovered in other parts of the world. These countries include the United Kingdom, Australia, Germany and China with many more suspected. People suffering from the virus have allegedly suffered from heart and other organ failure, before returning to a state of living where they are severely brain damaged. Some members of the public have even witnessed the 'infected' trying to attack and bite those who are not suffering from the virus. Military and medical personnel have informed the public to stay in their homes and only travel if absolutely necessary. As some hospitals are being closed to the public, medical stations will be opening in local schools and sports stadiums around the country. We will have more on the Virus as soon as we receive more updates from the CDC. Everybody, stay calm and stay safe.

Then the broadcast finished, and the air was dead.

Daryl had a very bad feeling about all of this. At first, like most Americans, he shrugged the news of a virus off. Just another way to scare the stupid people he had told himself. He thought after several days, the virus would ware off, like most other cases. It had been a month now and if anything it was only getting worse.

Georgia wasn't affected that much, it seemed the larger cities and towns were getting hit the worst.

However, Daryl had to admit that he was more than a little worried after the woman with the panicked and obviously strained voice had come on the air and gave everyone the latest update. Then it was even stranger that the air had just gone dead.

Daryl sat in silence for ten minutes or so as he tried to make sense of everything. He was soon onto his sixth bottle of beer.

Boston

The sight that awaited Connor in cell block G was nothing less than a horrific mess. He gripped onto Romeo's shoulder, trying to keep his friend close and safe. Terrified prisoners tried their hardest to fight off the dead like people, who snapped and snarled towards them. These monsters used to be other prisoners, all baring similar bite wounds around their necks and arms. Connor yelped as he witnessed one of the dead people sank their teeth into an older man he knew as Albert, an illegal car dealer who worked in the prison kitchens regularly, right in front of him. Connor and the older man watched in sheer shock as the thing that Connor could only describe as a dead man walking tore the flesh away from the man's shoulder; strings of muscle and spurting blood erupted in front of them.

"Albert! Oh Jesus!" Connor screamed. Romeo shoved the dead man hard onto its back, releasing Albert from its grip as he slumped down against the hard, cold wall. Connor swooped down to press his hand against the wound, in a failed attempt to stop the bleeding.

"What can I do? Tell me!" he panicked as he looked into the older man's fading eyes.

"Leave… me son. I'm, I'm as good… as dead." He stammered, trying to stop his eyes from rolling to the back of his head. He was losing consciousness quickly.

"I can't fucking leave ya! Come on, get up!" he cried out. The older man shook his head weakly, causing an even heavier flow of blood to run down his torso and Connor's hand.

"I'm gonna… turn, into one of them. That's how it's happening, bites. The radio report was right." He whispered.

Connor fought back the tears as Albert gasped his last laboured breath. Then the man was dead; eyes wide open but so very empty. He took a second to whisper a small prayer for the man, then looked up to realise Romeo and Rupert were trying to fight off the flesh hungry demons as he just sat there. He jumped to his feet, connecting his fist to the pale face of the dead man Romeo was fighting. It flew backwards, landing against a table that had been smashed to make weapons during the drama. The men turned to continue looking for Murphy when a loud crunch made them look back towards the dead man. One of the snapped legs still attached to the upturned table had impaled the corpse through the head, bringing its hungry rampage to an end.

Connor faced his friend and the guard, "So, we need to damage the fucker's heads?" he growled.

"That's right brother, smash the bastards brains out!"

Connor whirled around to come face to face with his dear brother, his wicked, charming smile etched onto his pale face. Connor cried with joy as he embraced his twin, thanking the Lord that he was alive. The reunion was short lived as the remaining corpses closed in on them. Murphy hopped on the spot, brimming with adrenaline.

"Watch me Con, watch me take these creeps out!" he yelled as he pulled a large shard of mirrored glass from his prison suit pocket and flew towards one of the corpses. He shoved the glass straight through its eye; a satisfying "yes!" escaped him as the lifeless body hit the ground.

"Ya wanna start helping out?" He yelled to the three dumbfounded men before him.