May 13th - Boston
The blur of anger and fear was over in several minutes. The four men in the prison had taken out the last three of the walking dead in the cell block. Smash their brains out Murphy had told them. The image of himself driving a metal bar through the head of another inmate played over and over in Connor's mind. This was the first time he had killed someone so barbarically, and he had a feeling it wouldn't be the last.
Murphy seemed rather calm to Connor, too calm. He saw how Romeo eyed him from across the room; he looked to be thinking the same thing. The Mexican shifted his weight from one leg to the other, before speaking up.
"How did you know Murphy, to get them in the brain?"
Murphy snorted and approached one of the lifeless corpses now strewn across the prison floor; he kicked the deceased sharp in the ribs.
"Don't know if you've noticed Rome, but these fuckers aint human." He started, "I saw a man die and come back; started growling and snapping his jaws at me, trying ta get a bite outa me."
Connor's face dropped, his brother had been attacked?!
"My god Murph, what happened?" Connor whispered, noticing the saddened look growing on the younger twin's face.
"They threw me in isolation; one of those crooked guards who worked for Maxwell locked himself in with me. Just me, him and his baton; he wanted to teach me a lesson he said."
It was only then that Connor noticed the bruises on Murphy's face; it had been all go since he found his brother again, and now he could see them spoiling his beautiful, pale face.
"Where the fuck is he Murph? I'm gonna kill him!" Connor roared, anger burning in his expression.
"No need for that dear brother," Murphy interrupted, "I finished him off meself, broke the mirror and cut his throat; bled the bastard dry."
The silence was cold, Connor could see Romeo fidgeting in the corner of his eye, and Rupert was just still with shock.
"Then he came back?" Connor asked.
"Aye "
Connor summoned the other men to stand beside him; he looked every one of them in the eyes, holding the gaze with his brother for a moment longer.
"We need to get out of here, now."
May 16th - Georgia
The pair burst out of Daryl's front door and spilled onto the street, expecting more of those dead people to be waiting for them. Lorna's arm was outstretched; gripping onto the Revolver like it was her lifeline. The street was empty, the two infected people that were there a moment before were now heading down the road in the distance.
"Come on." He spoke softly, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. He directed her to his truck, deciding to be a gentleman and opening the passenger door for her. She smiled weakly and climbed in, taking the work bag from him and sitting it on her knee. A second later he was sat behind the wheel, starting the truck up.
"So where we headed?" she asked him.
"No idea doll." He replied. Doll, he had always called her when he spoke to her in the street or whenever he had been served by her in the bar she worked in. It was harmless enough; a little flirting here and there never hurt anyone but now the name had sort of stuck.
She pulled a hair elastic from her wrist and tied her brunette hair into a bun on the top of her head. He didn't need to pay too much attention to the road as he drove; the place was a fucking ghost town. He watched her as she fought back tears, her nose wrinkling up with the effort. He wasn't good with crying people; he never knew what to say. He drove for several more minutes until he couldn't take the muffled cries into her hand anymore.
"Come on now girl, don't cry. You're not a kid no more." He didn't mean to sound so harsh.
"I didn't know there was a cut off age for having emotions." She murmured.
Shit, had he upset her?
He tried to change conversation with the teary girl,
"So how old are you anyway? Strange that we live on the same road and I've always drank in your uncle's bar, yet I know nothing about yer."
She snorted with amusement, "How old do I look?"
Daryl hated that question; usually women were offended if you guessed their age wrong.
"Erm, twenty-two?" he asked cautiously.
"Nearly. I'm twenty-one." She smiled softly.
She looked at Daryl in silence for a minute.
"Thirty-four?" she simply said.
Daryl grinned at the compliment, "I wish doll. The big four-zero."
"Wow," she began, "You don't look forty, honestly."
They drove in silence after that, Lorna had stopped her tears and Daryl was hopelessly trying to find some music on the radio. All the stations were dead.
They drove past the local shopping mall, the sight there was awful. Bodies scattered the parking lot, those dead things were everywhere, wandering around the area clueless. A couple of them looked as though they were eating the dead on the ground.
"Do you think this is the end of the world?" Lorna breathed shakily.
"I don't know, I don't think I've let it sink in yet." He replied truthfully. He hoped that any minute now, he would wake up in his comfy bed, grab himself some breakfast and get on with his day. If only. The truth was, he was in the middle of some sort of apocalypse, running away from flesh eating zombies.
"How about the city?" Lorna asked, "If there's gonna be a safe zone or military, it will be in Atlanta city."
Daryl rubbed the stubble on his chin, thinking the idea through.
"It's a good plan, but the city's big. If these dead fucks are walking around everywhere, the city will be packed with them. "
Lorna sighed and carried on thinking of places to go.
"The quarry!" Daryl gasped, "I used to go there as a kid. There's plenty of woodland for hunting, obviously tonnes of water and fish. We could hold up there, it's pretty isolated. We just need some tents and supplies. There's a hunting store down this way."
This seemed like the perfect idea for Daryl, like it was fate. He was a great hunter and tracker and he loved the outdoors more than anything; that's why he had worked so hard to land the job on the farm.
"Ok, I'm trusting you with this one Dixon. Let's get to this store and to the quarry."
May 14th (am) - Boston
The twins burst into their small apartment, the door almost flying off its hinges. Romeo entered after them, he was yelling and drenched in Rupert's blood; they had lost him in the crazy streets of Boston.
"Come on guys! We need to get the fuck out of Boston, why are we here?!" Romeo hissed.
The older twin headed straight for his old bed, pulling a box from underneath.
"I told you Eunice was planning on getting us out. She had our belongings sent here, the stuff the cops took when we were busted, ready for us getting out." Connor opened the box and cried out in joy, "Eunice you beauty! Everything's here, it's all fucking here!"
Murphy joined his brother's side; a small laugh of relief escaped his mouth as he wrapped his fingers around his beloved Berettas. The pair turned to hand Romeo his guns, the man didn't care at all. He was silent, his face full of despair and fear.
"They got him, and I couldn't do a fucking thing. I had to put him down like some sick animal." He whispered, referring to Rupert.
"You did the right thing by him." Murphy approached the Mexican, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. The blood rubbed onto his prison suit, it smelt so stale and putrid already.
Romeo was dragging behind, trying to help the prison guard out. The twins were in front, taking down as many of the biters, they had decided to call them, with their metal bars so the pair behind could follow. Rupert tripped on a body, hitting the pavement hard, his face smashing against the ground.
"Romeo!" he yelled through a mouth full of blood and broken teeth.
Romeo turned and headed for the man, his crow bar he had found in his hand. It was too late.
The biters were all over him within seconds. The man screamed in agony as they bit into his neck and stomach, ripping him open and spilling his insides all over the floor. Romeo cracked the crowbar into the two biter's heads, one after the other, bludgeoning their skulls to bloody messes. He vomited at the sight of Rupert, his insides exposed everywhere, yet the man was still alive, gasping and choking on his own blood.
"Aw fuck Rupert, what do I do?" Romeo cried out.
"Kill me," the man whispered, "End it."
Romeo chocked back the sobs in his throat, lifted his crowbar and simply mouthed "I'm sorry" before bringing the blunt object down onto the man's head. The man's blood gave one last almighty splatter, as it covered Romeo's front. He felt the hands of his friends on his shoulders, followed by Connor's sorrow filled voice, "Let's go Rome."
Romeo nodded at Murphy, trying to erase the memory from his mind. He took his guns from Connor and snarled, "Those fuckers out there don't stand a chance against us, hey guys?!"
Murphy grinned, patting the man on the back, "Too fucking right Rome!"