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DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT own any of The Walking Dead characters and I'm NOT making any money off of them! I only claim the OC characters I created for this story.

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CARYL ON!

Daryl sat in the front of his pick-up truck, searching the radio stations for any news of what had been going on, but finding nothing but static. Taking a drag off his cigarette, he flicked it into the dirt, stomping on it with his boot as he got back out and slammed the door closed. Merle was in the middle of skinning a plump rabbit he had shot when he was out earlier and they already had a large doe butchered and in the cooler.

Coming back over to there little camp site, Daryl picked up his bottle of beer and took a drink before speaking, "Ain't shit on the radio...no music, no news, nothin'. Just static."

"Probably out of range, 'lil brother. Get my cell phone...call Tinker and find out what's happenin' if'n ya want ta know so damn bad," he replied, setting the guts of the rabbit aside into a plastic bag.

Going over to Merle's bike, Daryl fished Merle's cell phone out of the saddlebag and turned it on. Waiting a few minutes, he walked back over, pressing buttons and then closing it back, "Piece of shit ain't worth a damn up here. Ain't got no service."

"The fuck ya mean?" Merle said wiping his hands off on his jeans. "Hand it ta me." Daryl handed it over and Merle groused, "Ya just don't know how to use the shit."

"Know how ta use a damn cell phone, asshole. Ya ain't got no bars up here," Daryl said, taking a seat on a log they had dragged over beside the fire pit when they had gotten up there.

"Always had bars before," Merle replied, pressing buttons and then stood up. Walking around some, he frowned and then tossed it back at Daryl, "Ya pay the damn bill for me?"

"'Course I paid the damn bill! Did it last week," Daryl yelled at him, aggravated. Running a hand through his messy hair, he sighed, "When we headin' back? I got work tomorrow, ya know?"

Merle nodded and looked around the woods some before placing his hands on his hips and looking down, "We'll head back in a few hours. See if shit's calmed down any." Lifting his sights to his brother, Merle raised his brow, "And if anyone ask 'bout Jess, we ain't seen him in a while."

Daryl nodded in understanding and sighed, stretching out his legs, "And if shit ain't back ta normal? Then what? We ain't got shit and that piece of shit we live in ain't gonna keep those dead bastards out."

"Then we move on," Merle said, his eyes meeting Daryl's. "We find a place ta hunker down for a little while longer." Squatting, Merle picked up a twig, breaking it between his fingers, "Hell, for all we know, we might be the last two people alive on this rock. Hell, we can live where the fuck we want then, 'lil brother."

Daryl frowned, and then stood back up. He had never been one to just sit around and do nothing. He always tried to stay busy. Starting to collect his things and pack them up, he groused, "When's Earl got you workin' again?"

Merle had been working for a tow company for the past eight months and making pretty good money. The plan was for the brothers to be able to open there own garage up someday, to have something to call their own. Both loved working on bikes but Daryl also had a passion for working on older model muscle cars as well. Between the two of them, they could fix or rebuild almost anything with an engine and the right tools.

Finishing up the rabbit, Merle began to bag up the meat to put into the cooler, "Tomorrow night. Got me on third shift for the next couple weeks with Cecil bein' out."

"You talk ta him 'bout that old garage of his?" Daryl asked over his shoulder and then focused back on his pack.

"Yep, sure did. Said he'll think about it. Hell, he ain't even sure he wants ta get rid of it yet. Told him we'd rent it 'til he made up his mind." Closing up the bag, Merle stood up and walked over to the back of the truck to put the meat up, "I'll talk ta him again next week. Give him some time ta think on it."

Merle headed back, getting his pack together before starting to take down the tent. Both worked in silence, something that wasn't uncommon for them. They preferred it that way most of the time. When everything was finally packed up and ready to go, Merle walked over to the truck where his brother was, "I'll take the lead. Wanna stop at Buddy's and grab some more smokes and some beers. Maybe we can find out if'n that shit's cleared up some."

"Maybe," Daryl said, getting in and starting his truck up. Fiddling with the radio, he paused as the loud tone of the emergency broadcast system started on a station. His eyes went to Merle and both men listened as the speaker informed people to stay in their homes or too seek shelter at designated refugee centers in their area. Marshal law was being enforced in all cities. They were also warned to stay away from anyone who had come in contact with the virus or that had been bitten or scratched by one of it's victim's.

Turning the radio back down, Daryl raised his brow, "Don't sound like this shit's blown over. Sound's like it got worse."

Clenching his jaw and looking off into the woods, Merle didn't really know what to do. Deciding to take a gamble, he looked back at his brother, "We'll hit Buddy's...see what the fuck's goin' on. If shit's as bad as the radio is sayin' then we'll head back up here. Either way, we gotta know."

"Let's get goin' then. If'n we got ta come back, I wanna be back for it's dark," Daryl said, pulling a cigarette from is pack.

Merle nodded, leaving his brother and heading to his bike. Getting on, he revved the engine and then pulled out, heading back up the trail that lead they followed in. With thirty minutes they'd know if they would be sleeping under the stars again or if they would be back in there shitty ass trailer. Either way, Merle was ready to do what he needed for himself and his brother.

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