Chapter Two. Lending Your Brother A Hand

A few weeks ago...

Hayden struggled not to let panic overwhelm her. She had been with Nathan as they left their apartment in Floria, and even as she surveyed the city of Atlanta before her, she couldn't believe how they both made it across the state. The outbreak had started so suddenly, Hayden and Nathan barely had time to pack a few belongings and get into the car before the undead began swarming the streets of the city.

"Where are we going?" Hayden had shrieked, buckling herself into the passenger seat of Nathan's sleek silver sedan. Just last week he had received a promotion at work, and the car came with his new position.

"To your brothers in Atlanta!" Nathan had replied, easing the car onto the street. Hayden had heard the flapping of naked feet against pavement and had turned to see the mangled corpses of their neighbours, the Fenningtons, launch themselves at the car.

Nathan swerved and the husband and wife landed face first into the pavement. They both had heard the cracking of bone, and in the rearview mirror Hayden saw that neither was moving.

The rest of the ride was tense. Nathan, upon seeing the number of cars lining up near the highway, decided to take a shortcut. It proved to be a good idea, because when they crossed a bridge opposite the highway, they saw an entire horde of the undead make a clean sweep of the highway.

The screams of the fleeing people rose in one great cacophony, and Hayden could see men, women, and even children being pulled from the cars and torn apart by the ravenous crowds. Those who managed to escape with only a bite suddenly stilled, turned, and joined the ranks of the hungry walkers.

"I'll get us out of this," Nathan had promised, holding her sweaty hand tight. "I made a promise to your brothers that I would take care of you, and I will."

Hayden believed in him, and sure enough he had managed to get them into Georgia. It was there where they learned that there was refugee camp in Atlanta where they could stay. Hayden knew that her brothers would try to make their way there, and Nathan agreed with her.

"They're complete survivalists. If anyone can survive this thing, it's them," he had assured her.

They were nearly to Atlanta when they were separated when they camped for the night. Hayden barely remembered the events; Nathan had just shaken her awake and told her to run.

"Go Hay," he had whispered. "I'll hold them off."

Hayden, still shaking sleep from her eyes, had taken the machete and shotgun Nathan handed her – the two happened upon a small group of armed survivors that had been overrun – and dashed away from camp. It was only a few hours later, after climbing a tree to make sure no walkers sneaked up on her, that Hayden realized that she had left Nathan alone.

Now she looked out at the slowly brightening Atlanta skyline, and another tear slipped down her cheek.

How could I have been so stupid? she thought. Why didn't I stay and help him?

But there was nothing she could do. Nathan chose to stay, and she knew if she had lingered, they might both have died.

Hayden instinctively fingered the ring on her finger and sighed. Nathan was missing, most likely dead. She couldn't let the same thing happen to her brothers.

"Just get us out of here!"

Hayden winced as some of her brother's blood dripped down on her. She was on her way to Atlanta when she noticed a form half-hidden by the tall grass and bushes. If he hadn't moved the moment she approached the roadside, she would have completely missed him.

But he did, and she was suddenly reunited with her older brother, Merle.

Or parts of him, that is.

To Hayden's surprise and horror, one of Merle's hands had been sawed off – judging from the uneven cut to the skin – but he had successfully staunched most of the bleeding by placing it on a hot exhaust pipe. Hayden had helped him to his feet and, spying a truck near an old warehouse, half-carried him into it. It was there where she helped him bandage the wound with a shirt found in the backseat.

Now she as she turned the key in the ignition, Merle eased himself into a more comfortable position on the passenger seat beside her.

"It's good to see you, Hay," he managed, grinning and holding the sharp machete. "Where's your fiancé? Nick, was it?"

"Nathan," Hayden replied, her voice catching on her throat. "He...he's gone."

"I'm sorry Hay," Merle said, and he truly meant it. He had to admit that he had done a few background checks on the guy his sister was set to marry, but he basically left the two of them alone. Of course, if he had even dared lay a hand against Hayden, Merle would only be too happy to place a bullet between the fucker's eyes.

"At least you're okay," she said after a few moments, and Merle relished in the feeling of comfort her presence gave him. "I knew you and Daryl made it."

Merle chuckled thickly and placed the machete back on the dashboard as Hayden eased the truck away from the curb. "You know it, Hay."

"Where's Daryl? Why wasn't he with you?" Hayden asked, glancing at her older brother briefly.

Merle considered not telling Hayden about the survivor camp. He wasn't in the mood to deal with those fuckers, especially the black. But his brother was back there...

"He's at the survivor camp just a few miles from here," Merle finally said. "I don't know if that damn pussy T-Dog told him about what he did to me."

"Why did they chain you to a pipe in the first place?" Hayden asked. "Merle, you know you should tone down your racist remarks a bit."

Merle scowled, but said nothing. Hayden was right, but he wasn't going to change his ways – not even for her.

"Where's the survivor camp, Merle?" Hayden asked.

"I don't want to see them folks just yet," Merle said vaguely. "Just stop somewhere off road."

Hayden wondered why her brother wasn't jumping at the chance to see Daryl again, but she didn't force it. Merle was Merle, and he had his reasons, no matter how weird or selfish they could be.

Present Day...

"Hayden," Daryl breathed, his sister's name slipping easily from his mouth. He couldn't believe she was here. Alive.

"Daryl," Hayden called, rushing towards him. Daryl's shotgun dropped from his grasp as he half-walked, half-ran towards his younger sister.

Hayden wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed.

Daryl is alive, she told herself. He's alive!

As she pulled away from his embrace, she noticed her brother seemed to have aged five years. There were circles under his eyes, and he looked bone weary. She hugged him fiercely, inhaling his familiar scent. It was then when she noticed the small group of survivors watching them curiously.

Hayden barely knew them; she only recognized the chubby Black American, T-Dog, whom Merle had gotten into a brawl with. She knew Merle would be out for blood, and she turned her head towards her oldest brother.

"Merle-"

"You sonofabitch!" Merle raged, pointing the small Glock in T-Dog's direction. "You left me to fucking die!"

Hayden winced, and she stepped in front of Merle.

"Hay, get the fuck out of the way!" Merle demanded, trying to aim his gun away from her face.

Daryl put a restraining hand on Merle's shoulder, but his older brother shook him off. "I'm going to kill you, cocksucker!"

"Hey, let's all calm down," one of the survivors, a man in a black shirt and dirty, mud-caked jeans said. Hayden pegged him as Sherriff Rick Grimes, the one who handcuffed Merle to the pipe. "Merle, there's no need to resort to violence."

"Shut up, non-com!" Merle screamed. Hayden stood her ground, looking at her oldest brother.

"Merle, not here," she said softly. "Not in front of the kid." Hayden jerked her head towards a young boy of about ten, who was standing a few feet from Rick.

Merle gripped his Glock tighter, his eyes fierce. Hayden slowly walked to him, her hand grasping his wrist and her eyes pleading.

After what seemed like ages, he lowered the gun... and raised his stump of a hand.

"Look at what you did to me, you fuckers," he hissed. "Don't you ever think for one second that this is over."

With that, Merle turned on his heel and stalked into the forest. Hayden made a move to follow him, but Daryl stopped him.

"Let him go, Hay," he told her.

Hayden shook her head. "I need to make sure he'll be okay."

Daryl held her arm for a few seconds, and then nodded. "Be careful."

She smiled sadly. "You too, Daryl."

And with that, she ran after her brother.