Don't Believe Everything You See on TV
The night the television stopped broadcasting was terrifying.
They'd been holed up in an abandoned roadside motel about thirty minutes outside the city for two days at that point; the owners had left the place unlocked before leaving for Atlanta, or so the sign on the door of the office said, along with their authorization that anyone can stay here for free until things got better. It honestly wouldn't have mattered to the Dixon brothers if whether the owners were okay with them staying there or not, but it did ease the mind of the other half of their little group.
Most of the time was spent in front of the ancient tube television in John and Michelle's room - the ones in both Merle's and Daryl's rooms had already been looted, of course - switching back and forth between the few channels that still showed news and the other ones that had been taken over by the emergency broadcast system. Or at least, that was the way the Masons and Daryl were spending their time while Merle stumbled around in a constant stupor. He was still reeling from the whole situation and his brother thought it best to let him process in his own way, even if it meant having to wrestle a loaded gun out of his hand every few hours.
It was late in the evening and the older Dixon was sleeping it off in an armchair in the corner of the room while Daryl sat on one of the beds, John and Michelle on the other. None of them had said anything in nearly an hour, eyes fixed on the images coming in from throughout the country, all of them showing more and more infected people while every journalist and reporter tried to assure the viewers that the military and researchers at the CDC were handling the situation. Everything should be back to normal in a matter of days, weeks at the most, they all said before urging people still in their hometowns to head for the nearest large city for extra protection. That as they knew was absolute crap, there was no safety in the cities. It felt like there was no safety anywhere really.
The news anchor of one of the last two stations still broadcasting gave a speech they'd gotten used to by now, thanking the viewers for allowing him to bring them the news for seven years running, to have welcomed him into their lives, and all that, but now it was the time for this station to let their employees go home and be with their families in this time of fear. He hadn't even finished his little speech that the screen switched to the emergency broadcasting system. Michelle stood from her seat next to her father to change the channel, the remote control's battery having died out a few hours prior, before long though, it became evident that the other station had also left the air. And at exactly nine o'clock, the emergency system stopped as well.
The empty screen stared back at them as Daryl frantically tried to flip through the channels growing more and more aggravated with each press of the buttons. He smacked the side of the machine, nearly sending it flying off the chest of drawers.
"Hey, calm down!" Michelle's voice resonated in the quiet room, even causing Merle to stir, his head rolling back as loud snores began escaping his mouth. "Maybe this just temporary, a glitch or something, but we won't know if you destroy the stupid thing."
Daryl was in her face in a second, towering over her, but to his surprise, she didn't flinch or step back, instead, she held his burning gaze. "Don't you tell me what to do, girl," he spat that last word at her like it was an insult. This was quite possibly the most words he'd said to her since he'd picked her and her father up. It wasn't really that surprising given the fact that he wasn't really the talkative type in general, although he'd gotten to know her father a little more since they'd climbed in his truck, mainly because John was the talkative type. But when it came to Michelle, he didn't feel like there anything he could have in common with someone like her; she looked like the type of girl who spent a lot of time trying to make herself look pretty to make up for what she actually looked like, the sort that needed protecting and constant attention. He wanted nothing to do with someone like that. And growling in her face like that, it was unlikely they'd exchange any more words in the future, as those dark eyes of hers burned right back at him and for a second, he thought he might get a slap.
The staring match lasted only a few seconds before John grabbed his daughter's shoulders and pulled her back. The older man was already talking about how this was probably just a glitch and the emergency system would be back on in the morning, and how, until then, maybe it was best to just calm down and go to sleep. Both Daryl and Michelle's jaws were set and they both seemed about to argue, but the man had a point and even if they spent the night glaring at each other, it wouldn't bring the television back on faster.
"I'll help you get your brother back to his room," John said, already walking over to where Merle was still sleeping.
They hoisted him up to his feet, waking him in the process, but he still let the two of them carry him, his legs were like jelly under him after all the booze and painkillers he'd mixed and the fact he hadn't eaten since morning only made that worst. As they walked him past the television, the older Dixon straightened up though, blinking at the black screen for a long moment. "Why d'y'all turn that off? Could be something important on."
"It's gone, Merle," Daryl replied to him, his voice low and words heavy. He sounded like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "It's all gone, bro..."
The three of them were barely out the door when it happened. When that thing came out of one of the rooms and straight at them. Stumbling and snarling. Merle's addled eyes became suddenly focused as he saw it, and suddenly he was pushing John in toward that thing, grabbing his brother by the back of his vest, pulling him backward into the motel room. Daryl hesitated for a second just standing there in the doorway, watching that thing that wasn't quite human anymore approach the gray-haired man on his hands and knees in the gravel; should he step inside and close the door behind him like Merle was shouting at him to do, leaving John to fight off the infected man on his own or should he go there and help him?
Before he could make a choice, a flash of screaming orange whisked by him. He watched in disbelieve as the small woman smacked the thing across the face with the room's courtesy iron, most likely the first thing she'd gotten her hands on. The thing fell on its back and she turned toward her father, helping him back up. As soon as John was up again though, Michelle's scream pierced the night as the infected man grabbed at her leg, jaws smacking together as it tried to bite her. Her father was wheezing, hardly able to move himself but still kicking at the thing to try and get it to let go of his daughter, but it was determined.
Before he knew it, he was running outside himself, Merle shouting his name behind him as he kicked the thing's arm, breaking at the elbow. It didn't scream, didn't retreat, just reached its other hand out to try and get one of them again. John took the iron from Michelle's hands and smashed it against the other arm and still it kept staring at them, snarling like a wild animal. This wasn't just a sick person as they'd been saying on the television... It was something else entirely.
The gunshot surprised them all, making them jump back as Merle got three rounds into the thing's body. And still, it kept coming. It wasn't until the fourth bullet, the one that hit the thing's brain that it stopped moving.
"Them things ain't people. They're dead."
His voice sounded off even to his own ears, breathless and a bit shaky, even lower than usual. He swallowed hard, he blinked at the finally dead thing on the ground. They all looked at each other, all of them trying to catch their breath. Michelle was shooting dirty looks at Merle, not quite surprising after his big brother had all but tried to sacrifice her father to the dead man; he would be doing the same if either of them had tried to pull the same thing with his brother. Protecting their kin, that was one thing they definitely had in common.
After a bit of an argument, mainly between John and Michelle, Merle and him headed back to their rooms, but only to grab their bags and moved in to the Masons' room. None of them would likely be able to sleep that night, but there was safety in numbers and in the morning, they could start thinking of where to go from here.