A/N: I hate having these author notes here, but it's a must. TWD isn't mine. This is just a fanfiction I wanted to write. Me and every other girl on the planet fell in love with Daryl Dixon and I had to write a fanfiction about him specifically. This is only the first chapter, I have two more already poorly written (just like this one), and it's an introduction to my character. About where she was when this all started. The next chapter will have Rick's group and this story starts in season 2. Gimme love or hate, idc. Just tell me how I'm doing.
I don't think anyone ever expected the end of the world. Yes there were people who took things seriously like doomsday preppers who had bunkers in their back yards, stocked with mountains of canned food, medical supplies, guns, and bottles of water that could hold them over for months or almost years. That's probably why the TV show got so popular. So the world can see just how crazy these people can be. Then people like myself, the zombie apocalypse aficionado, where I had an escape plan to get my friends or get supplies and meet them at the U.S.S. Lexington in Corpus Christi, Texas, we all read the Zombie Survival Guide, and we even had a cheesy 'Zombie Outbreak Response Team' sticker on our vehicles. People talked about how they were ready for the day the world turns to shit, just so they can play survival. I just don't think anyone was truly ready for what had come to pass.
I'm young, only 24 years old and I already have my Emergency Nurse Practitioner license. I graduated from high school at the age of 16 with an associate degree in liberal arts. I had attended a college preparatory school with summer classes and was able to do it all thanks to the help of my friend Dylan's Vyvanse to keep me up for almost three days at a time to get my shit done. After school work was done for the week, I'd usually end up taking another Vyvanse just so I could party all weekend. After high school came college and I immediately knew I wanted to be a nurse. I had the help from both of my parents, who were both working in the medical field, and they greatly approved of my decision to become a nurse just like my mother. Since I had my basics out of the way, I was able to focus on nursing school prerequisites which I was able to get done by the end of the same year I graduated and had turned 17. I started a BSN program in January then 3 years later I had gotten my license to be a Nurse in the great state of Texas, along with whatever other states that would accept my Texas compact license. I knew I wanted more though and just having my bachelor's wasn't going to cut it for me. So my professor, who loved me dearly and had great expectations of me, wrote my letter of recommendation to be accepted into a MSN program and I started the summer just before my 21st birthday. Xanax and Vyvanse were my best friends during this time as I had just started feeling the pressure of taking a person's life into the palm of my own to protect it and make it better. By 23 I had gotten as far as I thought I was going go in my educational career and walked the stage once again with a Master's Degree of Nursing Science with the ability to write my name as Devin Lacoy, ENP, BC.
Because of my status as a NP, I had… easier access to medications and ability to prescribe them. Especially pain medications. Me being with a loser, druggy boyfriend who convinced me to start stealing morphine and hydromorphone from my work so he could sell it, then me being convinced by him to start taking these meds, I got hooked. It wasn't hard to get hooked considering I had a history of drug abuse. In high school it was usually weed with the occasional cocaine or LSD, but I was also hooked Vyvanse and Xannies. My life was like that of Dr. House or Nurse Jackie. I'd grab about 15mg of oxycodone in the morning that I had taken from work the night before to start my day, then take it about every 4 or 6 hours, even while at work. I never had back and leg problems most nurses complained about, but I was spiraling down a dark path. I had been told time and time again in school that most nurses who got caught ended up getting their licenses suspended or taken away, but each time I got away with it, the bolder I got in the amount I was taking. Not even a year after getting my NP, a colleague, and professor that had gotten me into my MSN program, caught me red-handed stealing from the Pyxis. That look of disappointment broke me. I had gotten so far at such a young age and it looked like all my work was going to be flushed down the drain all because I wanted to feed an addiction. My professor had raved about me. How smart I was. How determined to go and get my NP. This man was my savior in getting into the ever competitive master's programs and I broke what good relationship we had. He surprised me and gave me an ultimatum though. He said he wouldn't turn me in, as long as I went on to get my Pediatric Acute Care Nurse Practitioner and to obviously stop stealing pain meds. He constantly told me of how good of a student I was and how smart I was that I needed to keep going with my schooling if not to get a doctorate at least another credential at the end of my name. Sounds fucked up though, right? Having a druggie work with kids… or anyone in the health care field in general. I don't know what he saw in me to make him know I'd listen to him and do it, but not even a month after being caught by him, I dumped my loser boyfriend and moved to Atlanta, Georgia to start a pediatric program and started work and clinical at Grady Memorial Hospital.
I was ready for my first night of work at the hospital. I had been doing clinical in the Pediatric ICU for the past two months, but something about going back to ER made me excited. It was my niche. It was my home. Getting ready for work never took any time at all. Some women would put on a full face of makeup trying to impress others while I just threw on some mascara, eyeliner, and my black thick rimmed glasses over my emerald eyes. There was no need to put on foundation and sweat it off. I could never keep up with that anyways and besides, my skin was just fine. I was a light tan color, darker than my parents which surprised me because my mother was Irish and father was French, with a smattering of light freckles across my cheeks and shoulders. Last, but not least, my dark brown hair was always tied up in a messy pony tail to keep it out of my face. I could never understand how some nurses and doctors could keep their hair down. Did they not know they dealt with blood and shit on the daily? Dressed in my blue scrubs, crazy neon green and purple Nike running shoes, and my white coat with my credentials stitched onto the chest, I was ready to go.
Halfway through my night shift, a child had come in with a bite mark to his right forearm that looked angry and infected. EMS stated that the mother had bit the child only an hour beforehand and I couldn't believe that the bite he had was that infected already. After notifying the doctor and her having a look at the boy she told me to get labs from the child before cleaning the site and stitching it up. The boy took the IV well which surprised me at the moment. I was so used to them crying, especially in the ICU, but who could blame them? Sending the blood off to the lab I got to work on cleaning the wound until the child started to have a hard time with his breathing. His saturation started dropping into the 80s which can be very dangerous, so I started the child on oxygen which cause his sats to jump back up into the 90s. After that everything seemed to go downhill for the boy. He became very feverish with a temperature of 103.2 degrees Fahrenheit to where I administered some Tylenol to lower the fever, but it didn't help and the child just got worse. Heart rate increased, BP tanked, and soon enough we had to call a code. The doctor called the time of death and we covered the body, waiting for transport to come in and take him to the morgue.
That was the first child I had ever lost in my nursing career. I had to sit in the breakroom and collect my thoughts. I never wanted to work with children. Ever. Sure I liked kids, but this was why I didn't want to work with them. I didn't want to see them die. I don't know what my professor, and even my nursing best friend, saw in me telling them I should work with kids. Yes, I was good with them, but it was parents I didn't want to deal with. Also the fact that kids died just as easily as adults did… As my headache got worse thinking about what I could have done to save that child, the ER seemed to pick up as the commotion outside the door got louder. I decided it was time to go back out there and do my job and as soon as I walked out I heard a mother screaming two beds from where I was. Other nurses and even security was there, trying to help out with what was going on. I saw two nurses pulling back the same boy that had just died, getting him away from the mother that was sitting in the room with a frightened look; and with a bite mark on her leg.
The chain of events went from there. As soon as we finished restraining the boy, the doctor was trying to figure out how this child was still alive, while another nurse was already working on the lady that got bit and it seemed the cycle went from there. I knew something wasn't right. Then after a nurse had got bit… and turned, I left and didn't show back up to the hospital again. I never went in for my ICU clinical rotation the next night. There was no way I was going back to that hospital. I had sworn an oath to help those in need, but I was selfish and worried about myself above all else.
I knew what this was. I played enough video games, read enough books, and watched enough movies to know what this was. I always joked I'd be a hero and be able to get through what was going on like a badass, but I knew deep down that if I didn't get supplies and get the fuck out of the city, I'd become one of the dead. I grabbed my work backpack, filled it with clothes, water bottles, canned food, my homemade first aid kit with other medical supplies, five packs of cigarettes, and I jumped in my old dodge pickup truck to the nearest gun shop. I didn't have very vast gun knowledge, but my dad had taken me out while I was in high school to the gun range… at least a couple times. My dad and I had frequently gone out and shot bows, so it was never that hard for me to catch onto shooting guns. I at least knew how to shoot them… sort of. Apparently I wasn't the only one who had bought a gun that day and supplies were getting ready to run low. I bought a handgun and a rifle with enough ammo to stuff in my bag and not weigh me down too much. It seemed that pandemonium had started to break out in the city and I needed to leave fast.
It's all radio stations could talk about. People being bitten. People being shot well over 10 times and still not dying until a shot to the head happened. People being quarantined into neighborhoods to prevent infection outbreak. CDC currently working on cure for virus that was being spread. It seemed that in two weeks all radio stations went dead and everything just seemed to stop… working. During those two weeks I was hiding out in my truck in some Georgia country side. The city got too hectic and overrun. People were attacking other people, robbing every store they could see, and setting buildings on fire. Martial law had been put into effect and military forces seemed to have gone into every city, killing anyone they thought was infected with the virus. In the country side I tended to park next to other vehicles that looked abandoned and tried to stay away from being on my own out in the open. Military vehicles often patrolled, driving around looking for survivors I assumed. Or infected. Whoever they could shoot first. People seemed to have gone rogue and losing their minds over everything.
The night after I had abandoned my job as a nurse I had called back home to see if any friends or family were alright. Both my parents, who were both in the medical field, never responded or called me back… I only did receive a text from one of my old college roommates and he had told me he was fine and with his mom and sister about to leave Texas and then my nursing school best friend was with her husband and children at their home in tiny ass Verdi, Texas. With me being in Georgia, it seemed our zombie escape plan had to be radically modified… Within a month all phone communication was down and internet seemed to be nonexistent anymore.
Within the end of month the world ended, I found myself in a tiny little town, if you could even call it that, named Senoia which was almost an hour south of Georgia. It took a full month to get down there. Evading military, people, and the dead was proving to be hard work and I just knew my string of luck was going to run out at some point. I don't think I had ever been so afraid in my life. I have been faced with death a few times. When I overdosed on cocaine and almost died I had to admit I was scared. When I was beaten to the brink of death by an ex right after high school graduation I was scared. But, I don't think I have ever been faced with fear. A fear that chills you to the bone and makes you freeze and then when your life flashes before your eyes in the form of the undead trying to take a piece out of you that adrenaline kicks in telling you to either kill or be killed.
My truck had to be abandoned unfortunately. It got caught in some mud out in the woods and I just couldn't get it out by myself. I was also happy to see that there weren't as many of the dead around either which made me relax, if only for a bit. After abandoning the truck there was a fence that I had found, cheap and made out of chicken wire, but I got through it without breaking the wire and assumed it was what was protecting me from the rest of the world. This fence also meant property, which either meant friendly folk or people that wanted to kill me so I'd have to treat lightly. Sure enough it lead to a two story white house with a green roof with the land surrounded by a wood fence and partial forest. I came out of the woods and examined my surroundings cautiously for signs of life. There was a barn and it appeared two love birds with talking near it, pecking each other every so often. They looked so young…
"Hey!" I called, getting closer to the couple. They turned towards me after hearing my voice. The blond girl ran off back to the house while her boyfriend clumsily pulled out a gun aiming in my direction. "Shit…" Holding up my arms I slowly walked forward. If he was going to try anything funny I'd attempt to put a bullet in his head first. Kid was shaking so bad he would probably hit me in my thigh or arm before anywhere else.
"S-s-stop. Don't walk any closer!" The boy yelled, keeping his handgun aimed in my direction. I wasn't going to attempt to go against what he was saying and risk getting shot, so I did as he said, keeping my arms in the air to show that I didn't mean any harm. As this was going on four more figures ran out of the house and in our direction. I mumbled another curse under my breath, hoping I wasn't going to be dying this early. I just needed to talk to other people besides myself… for my sanity. Two men, each holding rifles at me, and two women standing behind them.
"What do you want with us?" One of the men asked. He was an older gentleman, most likely in his 70s, with white hair dressed in slacks and button down shirt with suspenders. He was probably the owner of the land and farm. I hesitated momentarily before speaking up.
"Sorry to come up here like this. I just want a place to rest for a bit." I stated, exhausted beyond belief, now that I was thinking about it. I haven't really slept well the past month. I probably slept 2 hours a day at most. That was if I was lucky too and in a good spot. I hadn't showered either and looking down at myself I smiled sheepishly. "Maybe a shower or bath would be nice too?" I asked eyeing the new strangers warily.
The elderly gentleman paused a moment, staring at me as I grew more tired of standing in the hot sun. He slowly nodded his head, pulling back on his gun as the others followed suit. "Maybe we can work something out."
I smirked, flopping my hands down on my thighs and letting out a laugh. It was almost weird to be talking to another human other than yelling at one another with false threats. "I'm Devin."