Day 1: Survival Instinct
Blue Ridge, Georgia, United States of America
6:00am June 27th, 2010
Yesterday night had been a full moon. Normally, I'd go to sleep much too early to witness it at its peak, but last night, I was facing a bout of insomnia, something that occurred every once in a while for me. I knew why, yes, but though thoughts of the past had ceased, muscle or rather emotional memory did not quite keep up.
On nights like those, the morning was the worst, the blaring sound of my alarm when I didn't want to hear it. It woke me up sharp at 6, and though I technically had nowhere to be, I'd made a commitment to myself that I'd get up at the sound of that alarm every single day since I bought this... slice of heaven. Though a promising future did not eradicate a horrific past.
I'd found a way to cope though- no- more than that. I'd found peace for the most part. I'd taken responsibility for what's happened to me, worked harder than anyone I've known, and purchased this piece of land and made it my own paradise, away from the world.
I'd originally wanted to move far, far away from Georgia and my past, maybe out to the southwest, but my heart kept me here. I couldn't handle spending so much time with my big brothers, but I knew I'd never forgive myself if I'd just up and left and they got themselves into trouble that I couldn't do anything about, or God forbid, something happen to them. And I worried often that something would.
I'd gotten into my fair share of trouble, I won't pretend to be an angel by any means, but I'd also always gotten out of it. And after last time, I told myself I would never get back into anything like that, and that's partially why I had to keep my distance from the ones I cared about. They didn't quite have the same mindset as me, and sometimes you just had to put yourself first. Can't save anyone if you can't save yourself first. Also, couldn't save anyone who didn't think they needed saving.
It always shocked me, honestly, how much some people could go through life miserable and lacking morality and just think that that was fine. The former was more perplexing. But who are any of us to judge?
I rubbed my fists over my eyes, the pressure against them waking my brain up a bit. I guess it'd be one of those days where a little energy boost would help.
I made my way out of my bedroom and into the kitchen where my tea pot sat on the clean stove top waiting for me to turn the knob and start boiling it, and so I did.
As I veered to my left to grab a green tea bag from the cabinet, I was interrupted by a loud, pressing rapping against the door.
Immediately, my border collie mix, Moose, arose from his place on my sofa, and began his barking and growling at the front door.
"Quiet, Moose, it's nothing to worry about," I commanded, but not fully believing my own words.
Who the hell could that be? The only people who ever came up to my homestead were the police asking if I had seen those who went missing in the mountains up here, but police had a distinctive, authoritative way of knocking. This knock was anything but, although equally demanding.
"Joel! Get your dumb ass out here!" It was the crass barking of my brother, Daryl.
Daryl was the middle child which was easily readable in his personality. He was often quiet, observant, but followed the lead of our older brother like a lost puppy. As volatile and ill-tempered as he could be, he wasn't quite on the level of Merle.
I was relieved to find that it was only my brother at the door and not some unwanted stranger, though a visit from the middle Dixon wasn't all that common, so I was curious and somewhat concerned as to what may have brought him here.
I abandoned the quest for green tea, tromping over to the door, opening it to greet Daryl, but unamused to see who was accompanying him.
Yes, my Uncle Jess was there too. Him I quite liked. He was a little rough around the edges and maybe slightly bigoted, but he was always good to me.
It was the other man with Daryl that I didn't want to ever see on my land.
It was my father.
William Dixon.
I tried to not show on my face my disdain, but I intentionally didn't look directly at the man.
He was tall and lean but fit. He would have been conventionally handsome if not for the decades upon decades of alcohol and meth use on top of all the other substances he was abusing. He had a well-defined heart-shaped jaw and the same narrow bold blue eyes as Daryl. His old age was wearing him down too. He had only just turned sixty-four, but the aforementioned had certainly aged him rapidly. I was sure that the meth was the only thing keeping him going. Throughout my childhood, alcohol had always been his drug of choice, but he had added the amphetamines after the booze had slowed his hunting routine down significantly.
Could have just considered quitting the bottle.
Guess not.
"What are y'all doin' here?" I looked between Daryl and Jess somewhat accusingly.
"Need to borrow a rifle," Jess told me.
"When have I ever been known to do that?" I pointed out to my uncle.
"Always been stingy," Will remarked, but his comment went ignored.
"I'll make it worth your while," Jess promised. "Half of my game will go back to you. I'll skin it, dress it and everythin'. Don't got to do no work yourself."
"What's wrong with your rifle?" I challenged him.
"Lost it," Jess shrugged.
"How you lose a gun?" I retorted.
Really though, how could somebody be that reckless?
"Not like that," Daryl began to clarify. "You know Uncle Jess is a bitch to his gamblin'."
I shook my head and gave a slight grin towards Jess.
"You're a dumb son of a bitch for that," I told him. "Bettin' your last rifle?"
"Well, can't undo what's been done," Jess dismissed.
"Like hell you can't," Will inputted. "Lost a lot of shit to gamblin' but just went and stole it back."
"That's why ain't no one will gamble with you no more," Jess pointed out. "I ain't tryna burn all my bridges."
I really didn't want to her another word out of my father's mouth, and wanted to get my relatives off the property, so I left from the front door to go back to my bedroom and to my gun safe.
Back in my bedroom, I opened the closet door where my big black steel gun safe sat. The thing had cost me a fortune. It was worth it though. I wouldn't have anyone breaking in and stealing my valuables.
I put the three-digit code into the dial, and when inside, I took the out the hunting rifle. I did really hate borrowing out my belongings, but I wasn't in the mood to have Will Dixon on my property any longer than he had to be. But Jess was going to have to pay if anything happened to my rifle. God knows these things were far from cheap.
I stood back up after slamming the door to the gun safe shut and walked back out to the front door.
"I'm assuming you got rounds?" I challenged my uncle.
"Wouldn't have asked to borrow a rifle if I didn't have the rounds for it," Jess replied.
"You ready?" Daryl asked me.
"What do you mean, am I ready?" I asked my older brother. "You know I don't like to do this shit."
I gestured towards my family members in all their hunting gear.
"You don't gotta remind me how much of a pussy you are," Daryl insulted, "but you do know the woods around here better than anyone."
"And why the hell would I take time out of my day to go trompin' around with y'all?" I challenged.
"I'll throw in a box of rounds for this rifle when I drop it off with you," Jess offered.
I didn't particularly need the extra rounds, but it wouldn't hurt at all to have them around. And I'd feel a lot more securing regarding Jess using my rifle if I had my eyes on him the whole time.
"Fine," I agreed.
I hoped this would be the last time I'd ever have to be around Will Dixon.
I closed my door and veered back into my home, turning off the tea kettle on the stove then heading back to the gun safe.
I once again put the code in then pulled out my revolver- a small, barreled gun with a shiny silver handle.
I couldn't enjoy hunting- hence why I didn't bring a traditional hunting weapon- so I didn't participate in it. I always kept guns just for safety though. I could never predict who or what might show up on my property as a threat to myself, my animals, or my belongings. I was bringing my revolver just in case though. I wasn't going to be around a bunch of armed loose cannons without a method of defense, not to mention all of the potentially dangerous wild animals in the region.
As quickly as I could, I put on a pair of faded dark blue jeans, a sleeveless brown shirt, and my brown work boots before returning to the front door to see my family members loading up in Daryl's Ford F-250. Of course Will would take Daryl's beater over his own. He never wanted to spend the gas money himself.
"Come on, little brother, we ain't got all day!" Daryl commanded as he hoisted himself up into the bed of his own truck, Will and Jess squeezing into the single cab.
I didn't verbally reply to Daryl's demands but followed suit with jumping up into the bed.
I could see through the back window that they'd brought my dad's friend, Buck, who was driving the truck.
Buck was in his signature look, a bucket hat, white hair and beard, checkered shirt, and sunglasses. I didn't think much of him either way. He was one of my dad's friends, so there was that, but he'd never specifically done wrong to me. I thought him a little annoying. He was a bit more responsible than Will or Jess though, which showed itself in Daryl's choice of who was allowed to drive his Ford.
"Where we goin', boss?" Buck inquired through the back window towards me.
I could only tell that he was looking at me through his shades by the direction his head was turned in.
"Follow the dried-out creek bed up north," I instructed him, nodding my head in the direction of the bed. "I've seen an abundance of huge ass bucks up there on my hikes."
"Got it," Buck nodded, shutting the window, and starting the rumble of the truck, turning around down the dirt road that led up the mountain.
The thing was closer to a river during the rainy seasons of November to March when it filled up. Luckily, it passed my property and didn't go straight through it or much of what I owned would easily be destroyed.
"Hikes?" Daryl chuckled. "That what pussies who don't hunt do?"
"Sorry that I don't feel the need to kill something every time I go out into the woods."
"Rich coming from you," Daryl remarked.
I looked at my older brother.
"You're a better man when you're not around him," I gestured in the direction of my father. "Or Merle for that matter."
"You don't know nothin', prick."
It was almost easier to get under Daryl's skin than Merle's, as volatile as the oldest brother was.
Daryl was much softer and more sensitive. Merle had completely let his childhood ruin him. I can't even say that I believe my eldest brother was inherently a bad man. Selfish, that's for sure. But not evil. He'd never do some of the things our father did.
Daryl knew how to fit in with the gang, but he wasn't much of the initiator in bad behavior from what I'd seen. He was nice when it was just me and him, especially when we were kids.
"Why would you bring him here?" I challenged, trying to mask the hostility in my voice but failing.
Daryl scoffed. "You think I had a say in that? He was the one that insisted. You're gonna be even more pissed when you realize that rifle was for him and not Jess."
I gazed over into the truck cab, irritated as all hell. I could see my hunting rifle in my father's lap.
I shook my head.
"How'd he find out where my place is then?" I interrogated, holding tightly to the truck as we bounced up and down over the rocky dirt roads.
"Told him I couldn't remember where it was exactly. He thought it was bullshit. Jess remembered. Told him."
"Of course Jess remembered. He's much more sober than pops and big brother. You're lucky you skipped the addict gene. Can't say Jess did, just didn't get it the way Dad and Merle did."
"And you did?" Daryl doubted.
"I quit when I wanted to," I retorted. "Come to think of it, you may just have gotten it for cigarettes."
"If I remember correctly, you were smokin' much as I was a few years back," Daryl reminded me.
"'Til I decided not to," I replied. "Like I said."
Daryl grunted. Maybe a grunt of doubt, maybe a grunt of submission. Probably a bit of both but mostly just him not wanting to converse anymore. I didn't regard myself as someone who was much for conversation, but Daryl certainly was less of a talker than myself.
Buck pulled up to an old, shanty, little cabin on the mountain side and stopped the truck.
"Might as well stop here since we're so close by. I didn't know we were so close to being neighbors!" Buck exclaimed.
"This ain't your shack!" Will scoffed.
"Might as well be," Buck shrugged. "Government doesn't know my cousin's been MIA since '06. Got me a little vacation home out of that."
"Charming," I muttered but loud enough to be heard.
"Isn't it?" Buck didn't get the sarcasm.
Daryl let out a short laugh, grinning at me for a moment.
In all honesty, I loved making my older brother smile, if only briefly. It wasn't something he did often. Merle was a big cheesier though. Often for nefarious reasons, albeit.
I followed my seniors up into the cabin, noticing all of the empty oil barrels and run-down appliances littering the surrounding yard.
The interior of the cabin didn't look much better, but I'd certainly seen worse. It was obvious no electricity was being paid or maybe not running up here at all in general. Partially full bottles of various liquids littered the living space. There were MRE's and hunting and camping equipment all about. The space didn't even have a fridge and it certainly wasn't fully furnished but enough so to get by on a hunting trip every now and then.
"Good thing we made it all the way here," Jess drawled. "Gas was just about empty when we pulled up."
I rolled my eyes. I suppose they'd brought me out here, so I'd be inclined to walk back to my place and get fuel for them. I was a fool to think these hunters would need help navigating the woods. Especially not Daryl. That man had a sense of direction like no other.
The older men might have been losing it though.
"What are we waitin' and standin' around for inside, let's go!" Daryl suggested- rather aggressively at that.
"Hold your horses, son," Jess advised his nephew. "Gotta grab a few things."
"What do you need that we don't already got?" Daryl growled impatiently.
His question went ignored, and Jess disappeared into the back room, coming back out with only a new revolver.
I wanted to ask if that was the weapon he'd intended to hunt with, but I figured I didn't really care all that much.
"Now I'm good to go, kid," Jess nodded at Daryl, who stomped hurriedly out of the cabin, Will following close behind him, then Buck and Jess, then myself.
Maybe I had ought to hang back since I wasn't going to be hunting, but I knew I'd get too restless staying in the cabin. I could always walk back towards my place, but not with my rifle out here in the hands of an alcoholic idiot.
Will quickly made an effort to outpace Daryl successfully, surely just because he liked to feel like the big man in charge.
We trailed up the dried-out creek bank, walking slowly, keeping eyes and ears out for any game.
"Big group of us like this is sure to scare 'em all off," Daryl pointed out.
"He's right," Buck agreed, his voice instinctively low. "We ought to split up."
Daryl nodded, "I'll take the right side of the creek bank on my own."
"I'll take left," Jess offered.
"I'll go with you," I instantly volunteered, not wanting to be stuck with Will.
"Guess that leaves me and Willie in the creek," Buck agreed.
We were already deep in the creek bed- I'd say the thing was about 10 feet underground- and I didn't want to circle back around to make my way up the left side.
I strutted over to the dirt walls and found some tree roots sticking out the side.
I put my hands on the roots, tugging at them to test how safe they may be to use as something of a rock wall. As they seemed to be stable enough, I relied on them to pull my strength up, kicking my boots into the dirt of the wall, making indents for me to use for my feet. I thrusted my body upwards, kicking my right foot over the ledge, and making my way successfully onto the left side of the riverbank. I noticed that my jeans had taken some dirt stains throughout my climb. I turned around and offered a hand to Jess who accepted, using the roots and myself to pull his weight upward. Luckily, my uncle wasn't all that heavy.
Once Jess was with me up top, we began to slowly stalk along the riverbank, keeping eyes on Buck and Will below. Daryl was completely out of sight- nothing new.
"Did you see that?!" I heard Buck half-whisper; half exclaim. "Definitely a deer up ahead. I reckon I can get a shot from here."
I saw Buck in the crevice below me duck down and lay himself flat on the ground, resting his hunting rifle on a fallen, decomposing log. He slowly tilted the weapon upwards, so it was aiming up on my side of the creek. He looked intently through his sites at his target.
I squinted my eyes, putting my right hand horizontally against my eyebrows to try to block out the sun rays. Though I looked fervently through the brush ahead, I could not manage to find the target Buck was viewing.
POP!
Buck shot through the trees, but I couldn't make out where the bullet went.
"Dagnabit!" He cursed. "I got it's leg! 'Least it will slow it down."
"We got the blood trail to follow now too," Jess assured him.
Buck did not want to lose his catch and hurried forward, far ahead of Jess, Will, and myself.
Jess confidently strode ahead, stepping carefully over the forest's fallen foliage. It seemed these people could see things I couldn't see. Guess that's what happens when you're the one member of the family who never got into hunting and tracking.
I traced Jess's footsteps, following him deeper and deeper into the forest until we emerged upon an area which was semi-clearer.
"I think I see some blood," Jess observed as I finally caught up to him. "Is their blood always this black?"
I took a look myself. Along the grass were large pools of blood, thick and dark. I'd seen blood from various organisms throughout my life- human and animal, be that deer, chipmunk, or whatever my dad and brothers had brought home growing up- and Jess had a point; it was never this black. Not to mention, the thick and oozing quality of it just didn't seem right. The deer must have had a disease or perhaps the part that Buck hit carried a different kind of blood. But that didn't seem so likely. I'd seen enough of animal carcasses thanks to my family to know the animal inside and out.
At this point, I thought that maybe a different target would have been a better idea, but I knew mentioning that would do no good. They'd all call me a pussy for being scared of a little blood.
"There's Buck up ahead," Jess pointed, showing my father where to go. "He's signaling. Cut through the trees to see what he wants."
Will ignored him but did as he said. I knew the man hated being told what to do, but when he was focused on a task, he wasn't going to talk back. He would just act like he didn't hear you at all and went on with what he was doing.
Jess and I walked along the bank alongside my father as we caught up to Buck.
"I didn't crouch down, so I might've made too much noise," Buck informed my father. "Best you crouch to keep quiet."
Again, Will did not regard his friend's words. This time, however, he ignored Buck's advice altogether and continued tromping through the forest as he was prior. In fact, he moved a little faster until I couldn't see him anymore, obviously trying to create as much physical distance between himself and the rest of us. I'd guess because he wanted the first kill for himself.
Jess and I struggled to catch up to him, but I could tell that Buck was just going to let him have the first kill, as he stayed put.
"God fucking dammit!" I heard him swear. "I had him in my sights, and those fucking birds spooked him away!"
I could barely make out the words because of how far he was away, but his voice boomed in a violet way that you couldn't ignore.
"GET OFF ME!" I heard a voice shouting that could only belong to Buck, his words followed by pained shouting. "Dixon! HELP!"
I turned around with great speed, maybe faster than I'd ever ran before and made my way back towards Buck, jumping over stumps and tree trunks like a track star. Whatever had happened, had happened so quickly, and the man was in a hell of a lot of pain- as far as I could tell from his screaming. Jess trailed not far behind me but with much less grace.
I was horrified when I realized what I was seeing, what was causing my father's friend so much pain.
Looking down into the creek, Buck's eyes looked straight up at me. He was still alive, I was sure, but in too much shock to move or fight his attackers back. His attackers- kneeling before him were two lanky men, dipping their hands into Buck's open gut, pulling out strings of God-knows-what, and chewing down on said bloody strings ravenously.
I pulled out my revolver and shot at his offenders. I wasn't fool to think that there was any hope for Buck's survival, but I had no desire to be the next target for whoever or whatever these cannibal freaks were.
I was a skilled marksman and well trained in the art, so each of my bullets hit. Two to the closer one's chest. He looked up at me, Buck's entrails still in his fingers, his jaws still chewing away. I quickly took cover behind a tree. I didn't know if the bastard had a gun or not. When his gaze met mine, I couldn't quite tell because of the distance between us, but something didn't look right. It was empty and lifeless. I felt the nausea of the uncanny valley. He slowly stumbled his way onto his feet; I noticed his knee buckling out under him as he stood and struggled to gain his footing. He stretched his arms out for me and changed his pursuit from Buck to myself, though I had the higher ground, and there was no way he could get to me.
I fired another shot, this time hitting directly through the heart. This only caused his body to jolt for what was likely under two seconds, but he continued to come after me. I felt my heart racing as he continued towards me.
He reached the edge of the creek walls, and much to my surprise, he made no attempt to climb, just snarled like a wild animal and tried to reach for me. Speaking of wild animals, his whole demeanor reminded me of rabies, but this was different. He was eerily slow moving and seemed to have impaired coordination. As close as he was, I could see how his skin was an unusual pale gray, his eyes bloodshot, the white bone of his knuckles poking through is thin hands.
I heard more gunshots coming from the area Buck was in. Will must have caught up with us, the sounds being the echoing boom of a rifle. He and Buck were the only ones with rifles at this time.
I looked to the left to see my father cautiously aiming his rifle at the cannibal coming for me, his arms shaking furiously but the man trying to stay focused. He fired a shot into the cannibal, going straight for the head as a true hunter would, this bullet penetrating the brain, taking the man down.
Why did it take so many shots?
I looked over to Will as he made him for the second cannibal which was still making an unsettling meal of Buck. Behind my father, more of these rabid but uncoordinated people were approaching- he was getting surrounded.
"Dixon watch out!" Jess warned.
Will turned around to see the humanoids approaching him, hungry looks in their demeanor.
I noticed him getting more frantic. He knew a single rifle couldn't protect him from all of this.
"Shit!" He shouted, as he prepared the rifle for another shot, his shaky hands slowing him down.
"Joel!" I heard my uncle's voice shout to me.
I turned to face him and found him tossing a box at me with a familiar logo on it. It was just the right kind of bullets for my revolver.
I caught them and shoved them into my jeans pockets as Uncle Jess jumped down into the former creek to help Will out.
I knew I had three shots left in the chamber.
At this point, the cannibals were coming in the creek from all directions- Jess had put himself in a predicament to put it lightly. Setting my sights upon one closest to Jess. I fired my three shots left consecutively. I'd assumed that these things just took multiple shots to take down, but the three shots I'd sent into his chest did nothing. I knew to stay calm under pressure, but this was something else, and I could feel my heart rate increasing by the minute. This made reloading the revolver a little more challenging, my hands shaking from the pure adrenaline and uncertainty. I managed to open the red box Jess had given me, happy to see the thing was completely full- 50 rounds total. Bullet after bullet, my trembling hands loaded the gun, popping the chamber back in place once I was done. It couldn't be the amount of fire power that took these things down. Surviving one or two shots was one thing, but three? What else had my dad done differently? He had shot them in the head, that could have been it. Lifting my revolver, I set my sights on the man-creature's noggin and pulled the trigger. The thing slumped to the ground. That had to be the trick!
"Uncle Jess," I shouted, "Gotta be the head!"
He didn't reply, but I knew he had heard me because he raised his aim a bit and began making head shots. In this moment, I knew we were lucky to be a family of trained marksmen. Well, Buck not so much… but he wasn't blood.
The attackers seemed to be multiplying and they were advancing on my uncle and father seemingly by the second; there was no way the three of us could have the upper hand in the situation, even as armed as we were. It took only moments for one to get a hold of Will and take a chunk out of his shoulder with its bare teeth, the man screaming in pain as another creature got the jump on him from the front, tearing his chest open and taking him down to the ground. Jess saw his brother go down and took aim at the creatures on and advancing at him as I covered his back. He had become reckless with a need to protect my father and had stopped thinking of his own well-being. I tried not to pay attention as more and more of them advanced on the man who had brought me into this world and made my experience so hellish.
Suddenly, I heard more gunshots coming from the trees. I knew this was Daryl. For the sake of speed, he'd opted out of using his crossbow and took to the beretta that most people didn't know he always kept on him. Daryl's intervention had made significant impact upon thinning out the herd of our attackers, and soon after they seemed to all have dropped dead.
My brother and I were both great shots, hell, all the men in my family were. I'm sure the women would have been too, but there really weren't any.
We spotted one lone cannibal left, it's thin shirtless form over my dad, chewing on his entrails as they had done to Buck.
As I jumped down into the former creek, Jess took it out with his revolver.
"Ah, what in the hell, Dixon?!" He shouted at my immobile father.
It would have been somewhat weird to call your brother by his last name, but Jess and Will didn't share one. Different dads equaled to different last names.
Will, the older of the two, lied there, his eyes seemingly losing the life out of them by the second. He couldn't speak, and I didn't know if it was because he was too injured or too in shock. In addition to the first bites I'd specifically seen him receive, they'd managed to tear his entire abdomen open, living his guts exposed and spilling out.
The site was more disgusting than anything I had ever witnessed, and never something I'd dreamed of seeing. With that being said, seeing the father who used to beat me with two-by-fours, switches, his belt, his own fists lying there so weak and unable to do anything for himself- there was a sense of justice. A sense of satisfaction, one I knew I shouldn't admit to anyone having.
If I had spoken ill of him, I'd often be reprimanded.
He's still your father, people would say. You'll regret never trying to fix your relationship with him.
I wasn't the one who obliterated it in the first place. So no, I don't feel bad at all. Not at all. Daryl even would spew that bullshit to me. Daryl was soft. He loved my dad, he loved Merle. He was manipulated easily. Me, not so much. Merle, a bit in between. He was defiant but had always allowed all the horror of the world to push him in the wrong directions.
As Jess had leaned over to investigate the scene of my helpless father, another cannibal had come out of nowhere, taking a huge bite out of his right triceps, to which I quickly raised my revolver and took it out, glad my uncle wasn't going to end up like my father.
I scanned the area, on the lookout for more of them as I reloaded my revolver, spotting Daryl coming out of the brush on the other side of the creek, jumping down into it.
"Thank God," I breathed, glad to see my brother alive and well.
He'd seemed untouched, that usual glower on his face.
"Ah, Dix, nah, no, man," Jess cried out as he put his hands on his knees, looking down at Will with distress.
He knew it was over for him.
"Help me," Will managed to get out at last, a crack in his southern accent.
He was a horrible person, but even this got to me. I couldn't watch him suffer. It was eating at me.
"Daryl," Jess said to my brother as he approached, not noticing what had gone down yet. "You okay?"
"Dad," as Daryl approached the scene, his usual stoic face turned into horror and sadness. "Oh, Dad, no. We can, we could-"
"Daryl!" Jess interrupted, his voice growing harsher. "He's too busted up. Nothing can be down now but ease his suffering."
That, I had to agree with. It felt weird that it was finally that time that my dad would leave this earth. A man of great evil, taken out on an unexpected day. I didn't think he had long left with the way he lived, but I never thought it would be like this. I didn't show my cognitive dissonance to Daryl and Jess, keeping my gaze as focused as I could on the perimeter, so no more of them would get the jump on us. I was, however, completely aware of the words exchanged between the men and what was going on, more than I was aware of what was going on in the surrounding woods.
Daryl knew our uncle was right. He stood up for where he kneeled before our father, and cocked his beretta, holding it towards Will's face. It took less than a moment though for him to lower it along with his own head to the floor.
I knew that was his look of self-blame. He tried again, but it was about the same reaction in the same amount of time.
Jess gave Daryl and disappointed and angry look, for what, I don't know, emotions were just high for everyone at this point. He reached for Daryl's gun, but I stepped in as quickly as I could, taking hold of it before Jess could lay a finger on it.
Daryl backed up, not able to bare what was about to happen, shaking his head hopelessly and letting out a cry. Jess gave a tough but remorseful look to my dad, though my father's eyes were on me, more eye contact than I had ever made with my father. He looked weak, terrified, in pain.
I said nothing to him, but knew he knew what I was feeling in that moment through my eyes as I pulled the trigger, the few parts of his body that could still move going limp, his blood splattering up onto my face and arms.
I could see that he knew in that moment he meant nothing to me. He was nothing more than unnecessary villian from my childhood. A terrorizer. An antagonizer. I had shot him out of contempt, but partially mercy. Not because I cared about him but because he was still a human being.
I stared in shock for a minute, the blood oozing out of the back of his bullet wound, dying the once light brown sand around him a thick red.
"Come on, boy, we gotta go!" Jess urged, grabbing my arm, and pulling me towards Daryl.
As he did so, I leaned down and yanked my rifle back from the grip of my father's corpse. Using the strap, I slung it around my back.
I could see the grief on Daryl's face, though the man was doing his best to hold it together. He wasn't always rational in general, but especially not when something had gotten to him. I knew he was likely to go straight into the anger stage of grief, as he had with our mother when we were kids. In fact, I don't think he ever left that stage. He was different before she died.
My brother shook himself out of it, almost imperceptibly, but his face maintained an anger and a level of tension that one who didn't know him might not be able to detect.
Jess, Daryl, and I rushed back towards Buck's cabin down the creek. I could see more of the cannibals approaching in my peripheral, but they weren't yet close enough to cause any significant worry.
We successfully made it back to the cabin, Jess locking the door firmly behind him, and Daryl stomped off into the back room, slamming the door behind him. I sat down at the old wooden table in one of the cheap, white lawn chairs that adorned it, resting my elbows on the table, putting my head in my hands. My face and hair were drenched in sweat from the Georgian heat and adrenaline that encompassed me.
"What the hell is goin' on?" Jess leaned against the table, placing his two calloused hands upon it to do so. "Your dad... I can't believe he's gone."
I almost forgot about that amidst the spinning of my head.
"All we can do now is figure out how to get out of here," I looked up and said to my uncle, knowing I needed to keep a level head.
At this point, I was also reminded of the gnarly bite mark on Jess's forearm. Jaundice had begun to surround it and Jess must have been so jacked up on pure adrenaline to not notice that blood was spilling from it.
"Best bet is the truck, but that's out of gas," he speculated. "Think I saw some cans around here that we can use. Only problem is the cannibals must have caught up to us by now. Think they'll know we're in here?"
"I don't know," I shook my head. "Something about them... they don't seem so smart."
"Noticed that too," Jess confirmed. "Also don't smell or look so great."
"You need to wrap that arm up," I told him. "Doesn't look so good, not going to lie. I can find the gas."
We heard the sound of glass breaking in the other room, and I got up to check on my brother, but Jess grabbed my arm, holding me back.
"Give him his space," he advised. "Probably just took out another mirror. You know how sensitive that boy is. Temper probably just got the best of him."
Daryl stalked wordlessly out of the bathroom, knife in hand, and Jess beckoned to him.
"Daryl, c'mere," he called. "We got to work up a plan. Come on."
He made his way over to us, nodding and looking at Jess, awaiting his next words.
"The truck's out of fuel," I added. "Buck got gas layin' around all over though."
"Have you ever seen anything like that?" Daryl asked, reverting the subject back quickly.
It was only fair to let him voice what he was processing, what we were all processing. What I wasn't trying to process. I didn't know what was going on. A cannibal cult? Were they sick though? On drugs? I knew they didn't seem to be all there. It had to have been some combination of all three.
"If you told me about it, I'd call you a liar," Jess answered, his healthy hand holding his wounded arm.
I started to notice how sickly he was beginning to look, his sunken eyes displaying the darkest bags I had ever seen, the rest of his skin taking on an eerie pale white. The blood that covered him did nothing to help his appearance. Even for a gun-toting, backwoods, country boy like my uncle, Jess, I had never seen anyone look so disheveled.
"Listen!" Daryl alerted us. "There's more of 'em comin'."
"They'd been workin' their way towards us since we ran," I inputted.
"We got to go!" Jess reminded us.
"The only thing we gotta do is kill every last one of 'em," Daryl countered, revenge obviously heavy on his mind.
"Look at Uncle Jess, Daryl, he needs to get to a hospital," I stood up assertively.
"Daryl, I know you're upset, but just listen, that sounds like a whole lot of 'em," Jess reasoned, but I knew how self-destructive and quick to act on impulse and anger my brother was. "We need to go. Now. Gather up as much as you can, and y'all meet me at the truck."
"Let's go then," Daryl agreed.
As temperamental as he was, he'd put first his family. I knew he didn't want to lose anymore of us.
"Alright boys, remember what we learned about them. Head trauma- attack the brain. Remember. Only thing we know that kills 'em," Jess advised. "And y'all be quiet sneaking out the back door. Don't let 'em see you."
Jess drew his revolver, ready to fight, and Daryl immediately began picking up the MREs and sports drink bottles lying around the cabin. I wasn't so concerned with any provisions or carrying around anything that might slow me down, so I immediately went towards the back door, crouching down getting ready to open it.
"Joel," Daryl called from behind me.
I turned around and my reflexes acted fast, quickly catching the box of rifle bullets he tossed towards me, pocketing it quickly. As the bullets in the small cardboard box rattled around, I could tell there wasn't much firepower in there.
Daryl took position behind me, crouching down as well as I opened the door slowly, trying to avoid the rusty squeaking inevitable from such an old shack. The backdoor led out into a small partially fenced in area, the kind of fence that you could easily gaze through the wooden rods. Through them, I could spot a shirtless cannibal chewing on God knows what or who. Looking back at Daryl, I received a nod as he raised his crossbow.
"What I got's quieter," he whispered, making an extremely fair point.
He stood up slightly to position himself for a better shot and took the monster down, stalking up to his body to pull his arrow back out. He held the bolt up and observed it in the sunlight, scowling and the blood and brains that hugged it then wiped the grime against his jeans. I knew he'd be safe with his skills and physical capabilities. He hadn't done the drugs that the rest of the men in our family had, so his mind was still sharp, his body still relatively young. What happened to my father wasn't going to happen to him.
"Think it's best if we split up, grab these gas cans quicker, get out of here faster," I suggested.
"You can handle yourself?" The concern in his voice was evident.
"If I can't, I can't," I shrugged. "But I'll be fine. Wouldn't want to split up if I didn't know that to be true for the both of us."
"Alright then," Daryl agreed, knowing he had some trust in the abilities of both of us. "Don't want you firin' either of those though and bringin' more of 'em down on us."
He pulled a hammer from his belt and handed it to me. I had to admit, I wished he had another crossbow to give to me, or that I had taken up the skill rather than firearms at this moment. Something about having to get close to these things was giving me a sick feeling in my stomach.
Daryl and I exchanged one last perfunctory nod, then I followed a path down behind the shack as he ventured the other way around the house. The path descended and I could see one unsuspecting cannibal in the way of it, its back faced towards me. This one was a woman, and I could tell she was not detecting my movements whatsoever, so I continued to stay low while advancing on her. I switched the hammer around in my hand and placed a quick grip with my left hand on her shoulder, using my dominant right hand to drive the claw into the back of her skull. It was only a moment that she had to thrash around before going limp. The claw seemed to have done the trick. Up ahead, I spotted two wooden sheds and could see a gas can in the further one. The only potential challenge being the gnarling sounds coming from the closer one. I knew I'd have to be careful. With that in mind, I sneaked around the corner of the first shed to see another cannibal chewing on what was left of something that was once alive. Getting ready to perform another sneak attack, I got in position right behind the freak when
BAM! BAM!
Fuck. That got the thing's attention, and it turned around to face me. Familiar dark sunken eyes stared into mine, a haunting lifelessness about them that sent a chill down my spine. I was extremely good at staying calm under pressure, and I didn't scare easily when it came to life-or-death situations, but this was something else. This couldn't be real. I wouldn't let my uncertainty overpower my will to survive though, so I again flipped the hammer around in my hand back to the face and swung a powerful blunt hit to the thing. This knocked it back a bit but was evidently not enough force to deliver a killing blow, so I again repeated this action, blood splattering on my face. It still wasn't dead, and this was giving me a sick feeling in my stomach, a repulsive blend of anxiety, adrenaline, and even some dissociation at the raw brutality. I'd never been so up close in personal with such brutal and gory violence, let alone been the perpetrator. I let out a guttural growl as I swung the last robust hit to the same wound I'd been working on, sending the thing to the ground for good. My head was spinning in a way it never had before, something different brewing up in my gut and working its way up through my esophagus. Whatever was in my stomach, considering that I hadn't eaten that morning, forced its way out of my mouth and onto the dirt floor of the shed. I hated that taste. I'd have rather took a swig of gasoline. The gasoline- that's right. I had a mission, and no time to think about the unpleasantries of my current circumstances. Maybe I could have kept the contents of my stomach inside if only those gunshots hadn't gone off. There was something worse about facing the thing and having to use sheer brutality to take it down. The gunshots though! Daryl wouldn't have fired. I knew it had to be Jess. I'd just go grab this gas can as quickly as I could and go check up on him.
I surveyed the area from the first shed and noticed no more cannibals around, so I proceeded to the second shed, still moving cautiously, and staying aware of my surroundings. Once in the second shed, I went ahead and grabbed the red fuel cannister, noticing that there was barely anything in it. Shit. This wouldn't do. Maybe it would but circling back around could cost one of us our lives. All we had to do was make it back to my homestead, but who knows what was waiting for us there. The path proceeded further away from the house, so I continued to follow it, gas can in hand. Another male cannibal was ahead of me, this one wearing a black and orange vest. His ears must have been sharper because he'd heard me immediately. I set the gas cannister down and held the hammer tight in my hands. The man advanced on me, his eyes locked onto mine but seemingly staring through me. The stench of him had hit me as well. It was a stench I'd been unfortunate enough to encounter before, and one that everyone who had knew they'd never forget. Death. These cannibals- the emptiness in their eyes, the foul smell, the jaundice. Maybe the smell was from their meals, but it was like they weren't alive at all. I had no time to contemplate this, so I began to take my swings at the half-dead, half-alive man until he was done. I then picked up the gas cannister and continued up the path which veered into a semi-steep walkway. This one led up to a carport made of the same wood of the sheds behind me. I could see another living dead humanoid ahead much to my disdain. The adrenaline kept me going, but the physical exertion required to take down a human body, being or not, was excessive and bound to take a toll. All I wanted now was to get far away from these things. I repeated the same actions I'd been executing until this one was unmoving as well, spotting another cannister next to a run-down vehicle in the carport, picking that up as well. It wasn't easy carrying both of these cannisters around, but I was managing. I'd thought to try to take the truck, but its wheels were absent, so I continued down the path. One more cannister should be able to do it. If my place wasn't safe, we'd have to get off the mountain all together. At the top of the path was a clearing filled with junk, but I spotted a box of rifle ammo and picked that up, taking cover behind what I thought may have been an overturned refrigerator. I took a look around, noticing a generous handful of the living dead around the clearing. I could see that the path circled back around to the cabin just ahead. Over behind a run-down blue sedan was another gas cannister. This would be the last one that I needed to collect for now. I needed to get it and get out as fast as possible, but I didn't want the cannibals to detect me whatsoever.
At my feet, I noticed several empty glass beer bottles which gave me an idea. Jess had pointed out their attraction to anything that makes sound, and I think we had all noticed their lack of reasoning. If I could create a sound far enough away from me, I should be able to grab that last gas can without detection.
I took a beer bottle in my hand and chucked it as far as I could without revealing my position to the right. A few seconds after, I heard the breaking of glass and peaked up to see all of the freaks stumbling in that direction. Now was my chance. I stealthily made my way over to the last cannister, grabbing it then sneaking around the sedan.
Once I made my way back to the cabin, I could see that Daryl was in the bed of the truck, using his hunting knife to stab the creatures that surrounded him, craving his flesh.
Jess's upper body extended out of the driver's side, firing more bullets into the freaks advancing upon them. I quickly ran to the truck with the fuel cannisters.
"Joel!" Daryl shouted. "The hell took you so long?"
"I see that I'm the only one who actually got the gas we needed!" I spit back. "You best cover my ass while I get the show on the road!"
I set the gas cannisters down, opening the gas lid and aligning the first cannister's neck into it, pouring as fast as I could after I'd unscrewed the seal. I was getting nervous as the creatures approached me but trying to trust in Daryl- and Jess even- to cover me.
First can done! I tossed the thing out of the way as quickly as I could and grabbed the second, starting to put its contents into the tank.
"Daryl!" I called as one of the cannibals got too close for comfort to me. "Come on now! I can't fight them off and do this at the same time!"
Daryl's attention was turned to me as he whooshed his crossbow around, taking aim and taking the thing down. With moves like a cat, he jumped over the side of the truck, pulled his knife out and began taking the freaks down, one after another, pulling his bolt back out of the dead in between kills.
"Save the cans!" Jess barked. "Might need 'em to fill up later!"
This time, I threw this empty can into the truck bed and finally grabbed the last one. Daryl had apparently heard Jess's request because he grabbed the can I had discarded earlier and threw it into the truck as well as he climbed back up.
"Let's go!" he called to me, extending his hand to help me up. "Start this shit up, Jess!"
As I finished emptying the last can, I accepted Daryl's help, slamming the gas door shut and allowing Daryl to pull me and the last empty gas tank up.
We had done it. Made it out. Well, not all of us. If I had to be honest, out of the other two that came with them, I was glad it was these two that I made it out with. I did have a space in my heart for Jess. He wasn't such a bad guy like my father. Tough and sometimes kind. And Daryl. Well, I always wanted him around.
The truck ride allowed us a moment to catch our breaths. Daryl and I sat low on our asses, breathing heavily, saying nothing but exchanging glances every once in a while. The entirety of the experience was uncomfortable. My body had overheated, and I knew I was dehydrated, which Daryl caught onto when he saw me eyeing the Gatorade bottles he'd brought which he wheeled over to me. I gratefully took it, drinking the whole thing faster than I'd ever drank anything- even tequila after a heart break.
Compared to the hunting grounds by Buck's cabin, the ride was quiet. I saw no signs of the monsters- that was until we pulled up to my homestead.
"Joel, it's gone," Daryl told me.
There must have been a hundred of them. The animals had to have been what drew them in.
"I gotta see if any of them are worth rescuing, my dog, my horse! The barn's secure!" I pleaded.
"Ain't worth your life," Daryl argued, hitting the window in the back of the truck to signal Jess to drive off who had pulled over just out of range of the apartments. "Ain't lettin' my little brother get killed.
Jess complied, and I had no choice but to as well. I was sure Moose was in the house, and my horse, goat, and cow were in the barn. I knew the poultry coop was done for though. God help me. Maybe if I could get the cops up here or somebody, I could get it back.
"What do we do now?" I asked Daryl, slumping back down into the truck, defeated.
"Guess we got to tell somebody," he reckoned.
"Who's going to believe us?" I challenged.
"No one at first," he scoffed. "But they'll have to when they see the bodies. Probably gonna detain us 'til they realize we're not crazy. Don't see that goin' well, but I can't think of another option. There's only one thing to consider, at least accordin' to what Jess thinks."
"What does he think?" I asked, looking over to my uncle and back to Daryl.
"There ain't nothin' to go back to," Daryl said solemnly. "We go get Merle and we figure this shit out."
Figure this shit out? I had no idea what was going on, what there was to figure out.
Jess pulled the truck over on the side of the road. It was quiet here, middle of nowhere, no one around.
"What we stop for?" Daryl growled.
I hopped over the side as Jess got out of the truck. Daryl perched himself upon the side of the bed, lighting a cigarette.
"We gotta think about what we're gonna do," Jess stated.
"I think we ought to find medical care for you," I gestured towards his infected arm. "Can't lie, that don't look right."
"I'm tellin' you boys, look how gnarly these things were. How do y'all know there's anything to go back to? How do you know that these things ain't everywhere? There were so many of 'em. I don't see why this would only be an isolated event, logically."
"Logically, I don't see why this would have happened at all," I debated. "Did y'all notice what I noticed? Those things don't seem completely alive. And Uncle Jess, somethin' like that sinkin' its teeth into you; we can all see you're sportin' a nasty infection. That's what's logical here."
"I just don't want you to be disappointed, son," Jess spoke defeatedly.
"We don't know shit 'bout nothin'," Daryl interjected. "Can't make any assumptions goin' into Blue Ridge. Could be like Jess says, could be life as usual for those idiots. We got to be prepared either way. If it's life as usual, folks are gonna say we're crazy."
"That bite on his arm will beg to differ," I pointed out. "Just look at him. What's got you so convinced that the rest of the world's gone to shit?"
"Check this out," Jess pulled a gray flip-phone out of his pocket, opening it up and holding the screen out for me and Daryl to observe. "No service- still. Usually, it'd be up ten miles ago. Y'all may have seen that cell phone tower back aways. Somethin' sure as shit ain't right. We'll go into Blue Ridge, sure, but I say we ought to head for Lawrenceville for my nephew. He's stuck behind bars. That don't sit right with me amidst all of this. So, what do y'all say. Backroads will be safe and were clear on our way here."
"No," I disagreed. "Highways should be faster."
"You'd think," he said. "But with this goin' on, think about it son, everything could be all backed up."
"It's only Blue Ridge. Ain't nobody's ever on these highways anyway," Daryl agreed, supporting my position. "Plus, we can save the gas."
"Guess I can't argue with two against one," Jess caved, getting back into the truck.
"I'm gonna keep an eye on him," Daryl told me. "You're right in saying he don't look too good. I'll ride with him in the cab."
"Sounds good to me," I concurred, glad Daryl would look after him. "Maybe you should be behind the wheel."
I'm sure the air conditioning in the cab may have had something to do with it amidst this Georgia heat. Either way, I felt much more comfortable with Daryl in there with him considering the state he was in.
"I'll have him scoot over," Daryl agreed. "He looks like he needs his rest."
"That's an understatement," I scoffed, hopping back into the back of the truck. "Looks like he hasn't slept in a decade."
I could hear the unintelligible mumbles of Jess and Daryl exchanging words as I sat in the back of the cab, thinking more about the heat than anything. If I was honest, focusing on my discomfort was the best way to keep me from attempting to comprehend what was going on. It was a horror story, but also much too quick to assume anything.
The ride into town was bumpy and uncomfortable, so I was more than appeased when we were nearing the police station. Daryl halted to the local speed limit- well, almost, and I used this to observe my surroundings. Blue Ridge was always a quiet town but never this quiet. No one walked the streets, no cars passed us. The place wasn't far from being a ghost town. It didn't feel right. Jess was expecting chaos. Daryl was ready for anything. I was hoping to get help with my ranch, but it seemed both Jess and I were wrong.
We advanced further into the town and the evidence of what had played out changed. A giant semi-truck blocked the middle of the road. Cars, trucks, and road stops littered the rest of the street. Something about it looked entirely deliberate. A semi-truck may have been a smart way to block unwanted cannibals from entering the safer parts of town.
Daryl pulled the truck to a stop, and I knew if we wanted to reach the police station, we'd have to make it past the semi-truck which was impossible by vehicle.
"No drivin' through that," Daryl stated but almost complained. "We're on foot from here."
"Ah, boy, bet them psychos came here too," Jess stated, his earlier theory seeming to be correct.
"Yeah, maybe, town circled their wagons, you see?" Daryl observed. "Looks like a DMZ."
"If we can get the gas, we can go around, find another way through," I planned. "But your comment about the DMZ got me thinking. If anyone's still here, they're gonna be in the heart of town. Where the police station is. If we can find a way in there, we may be able to figure out what's goin' on."
"Well, if there's any gas, it'll be at Lucky's," Jess added, gesturing towards the semi.
Lucky's was the local gas station, and I knew it was past the semi as well, not far from the police department.
"Daryl and I will go check the place out then," I progressed. "Uncle Jess, you stay here at the truck. If everythin's gone, then there ain't no laws to protect our shit from thieves."
I was aware of the fact that sound would attract more of these things, but I held my rifle firmly in my hands, not willing to take any chances. I wouldn't be backed into a corner with no reasonable way to defend myself.
Amongst the shopping carts and abandoned cars in the street were a few bodies, three that I could spot. Jess had been completely right about this. The living dead had made their way through here and there wasn't much we were going to find here. There was still a small chance that people were still here, but I doubted that I'd be able to find anyone willing to help me get my animals back. Daryl may have been right in saying that there was no point in holding out hope. It was gone. But I wasn't completely ready to give it all up just yet.
We walked along the side of the semi, but the thing was solid and tall. There was no crevice to squeeze through. And the town's people had been clever enough to block the bottom off with plywood, other vehicles, and various debris.
"Our best bet's goin' through the pharmacy over there," Daryl pointed to a nearby business. "We can go out the back."
"And end up on the other side of the semi," I finished for him. "Sounds good to me."
We made our way into the pharmacy, but the place was pitch black.
"Power's out," Daryl observed.
Luckily, my redneck of a brother always had a flashlight on him, so he guided the way through, around the shelves. The place looked like a stampede of thieves had toppled it over and took every last resource from it. The shelves were knocked over, trash littered the floor, windows were smashed. No pill bottles, bandages or other provisions were in sight.
We didn't bother to speak to one another, just staying on high alert, knowing, and even expecting something to jump out at us any second now.
At the other end of the pharmacy, we observed a light shining under the door and advanced towards that.
As quietly as possible, I placed my right hand on the doorknob, turning it and happy to see that it wasn't locked. Once opened, I held my rifle up, ready for what was on the other side. One of the freaks was kneeled down in the alleyway, chewing upon what used to be a person. We were currently undetected, so I silently waved Daryl and pointed towards the freak before moving aside to let Daryl follow me out of the pharmacy.
He nodded in understanding and raised his crossbow at the freak, taking it down with one bolt before going to retrieve it. The alley around us was littered with trash and dumped furniture, a wooden fence separating us from whatever might have been on the other side.
"Hey! Come on up here and talk a minute!" a male voice called out, just loud enough for us to hear, startling me enough to look in every direction trying to pinpoint the source. "Use the ladder. Near the dumpster. Hey y'all, up here!"
I needed answers and this was the first sign of life we'd had in what seemed like forever, so I made a quick pace to the silver ladder once I had spotted it leaning against the brick building. I climbed up towards the top, Daryl waiting at the bottom to follow me up.
This wasn't one of those fire escape ladders bolted into the building, but the ladder every Joe has in his shed for climbing up on his roof to clean out the gutters. Heights weren't my favorite thing, and the unsteadiness of it was making me unsteady. I appreciated when Daryl made the effort to hold the ladder still.
The top of the ladder greeted me with a familiar face.
"Dixon?" he asked.
The man looked like he was planning on being here for a while, a tarp set up to keep the weather off of him, and a barrel burning a fire, a few lawn chairs sat around.
"Blake," I greeted.
"Nice setup," Daryl commented as he reached the top of the ladder.
"Of course you would've made it," he let out a desperate laugh. "You were always a tough son of a bitch. I haven't seen you in years."
"There's reason for that," I grunted. "Nothing personal."
"Of course," he agreed. "Of course not."
"Jimmy Blake," he turned towards Daryl and introduced himself. "Last standing officer of the Blue Ridge Sheriff's Office."
"Good for you," Daryl quipped.
"Last standing officer?" I inquired, trying to take the tension out of the interaction. "What the hell's going on here?"
"They evacuated the town to Atlanta," he answered. "Supposed to be some kind of safe zone. I... didn't make it."
"There's psychos all over this place too," Daryl said. "Atlanta's safe?"
"The biters?" Jimmy seemed confused at the use of the word psychos for them. "Yeah. they're everywhere, man. Well, supposedly Atlanta has some good defenses up. Where have y'all been?"
"I live further up the mountains," I answered.
"I was up there huntin'," Daryl added. "Didn't know nothin' about 'em 'til they tore up our camp. Still don't."
"Uh-huh," Jimmy took the information in. "Let me bring y'all up to speed. More of them have been comin' all day. Started a few days ago. Just little shock cases here and there. We were dismissing it as drugs until we saw more and more of it. No way little old ladies are doing bath salts. This morning was the tipping point. It's just been multiplying. We help each other survive or we don't. That's it. Normal rules suspended for the foreseeable future. That applies to good guys and to, uh, hunters. Ten-four?"
Blake was as much a dick as any other cop, but Daryl's snide remark kind of asked for it.
"Yeah, I get it, but who's 'we'?" Daryl inquired.
"The kid holed up in the gas station, and the deputy in the cell block," Blake answered. "He's interesting. I want to do one last radio check before bugging out though."
"Well, then do it," Daryl urged.
"Batteries went dead two days back. Can't find fresh ones. If you can, I'm happy to supply a little bird's eye coverage. I'm a hell of a shot," Blake proposed.
"Are you kiddin' me?" I interjected. "You think firin' shots out here is a good idea? Tryin' bring 'em all down on us? Why don't you get yourself off this roof and find 'em yourself? I mean, I'm perfectly willin' to help, but why would I if you're going to sit yourself up on this roof, no risk for you? Ain't you supposed to be servin' and protectin'?"
"I told you, Dixon, we're in a lawless land now," Blake retorted. "Help me or don't. Firing these shots is at no risk to you. Biters can't get up here, there's not so many out here, and they'll be able to hear the source of the gun more than the body it hits."
"Batteries, okay, I'll keep an eye out," Daryl told the officer. "I need gas though."
"I think it's long gone, but the kid would know better than me... We'll talk when you've finished the nickel tour."
Daryl and I turned to leave, my brother taking lead when going down the ladder, me following after him.
"You know I only agreed to find the batteries as a bargaining chip," Daryl muttered to me.
"He said he ain't got no gas," I reminded him.
"Gotta have somethin' useful. He might be lyin' though."
"Fair point. I say we help these people out though. Get them out of town if they'd like. It might be safer to travel in numbers."
"Don't need some sheriff tellin' me what to do."
"Nobody's got shit to tell us, Daryl. Look at that idiot. Drunk on power one day, pissin' his pants to climb down a ladder the next. It's people like me and you that are takin' over."
"I don't need to take nothin' over."
"I'm talkin' about havin' a survival instinct, Daryl. Not runnin' an empire. Who knows how long this will last. If we're lucky it will."
"What are you talkin' about?" Daryl spat.
"You heard Blake. It's a lawless land. Nobody's puttin' anyone behind bars anymore. No laws, no restrictions."
"Everythin' comes full circle."
"You're right," I agreed. "I'm makin' the most of it while it lasts."
"How optimistic of you."
"Maybe that's another survival mechanism."
Daryl said nothing and continued to lead the way through the alleyway. Veering right, Daryl picked up a small box of pistol ammo off of a dead corpse before going back left where we had originally come from. This time, we entered through a different door where we found ourselves in Blue Ridge General, what was more or less a small grocery store that sold nonperishables. Every item on every shelf was gone. What Blake had referred to as a biter had its back facing the doorway, its figure illuminated by the sunlight shining through. Daryl looked at me and nodded. I stayed quiet as he unsheathed his knife and grabbed the thing, stabbing the blade through it. My heart skipped a beat when a second biter rounded the corner and took hold of Daryl. I could tell the man was not expecting it by the nearly terrified look on Daryl's ever-stoic face.
Rushing up, I pulled the thing off of him, throwing it to the ground before taking the butt of my rifle to its head repeatedly until its movement ceased. As the day progressed, I found myself drenched in more and more blood. I couldn't remember what of it was my father's anymore. I turned around to see Daryl pulling his knife out of the one he had killed and driving it up the chin of another.
"Thanks," Daryl grunted, nodding towards me.
Looking around, I could see now that there were a lot of them. We had made it to the other side of the semi, but the inside of the town was just as riddled with unused vehicles.
"Blake's help might be needed then," I corrected myself. "If we can find the right equipment, I'm sure we can syphon a lot from these cars if it comes down to it."
"Let's hope it doesn't," Daryl replied. "That'll take all day. We got company." He used his head to gesture where two more biters were making their way towards us slowly.
This time, he pulled his crossbow up again and I slung the rifle around my shoulder taking out the hammer he had given me. I waited for him to take a perfect shot at the closer of the two, then I stomped up to the second one, swinging at it until it was dead.
"Make it for that truck over there," Daryl told me, pointing towards a tanker. "Climb the ladder in the back. I'll be right behind you. Need a vantage point and somewhere to catch our breath. Can't waste our time killin' all these things."
I nodded in agreement. Looking out both ways before dashing, I could see that the street was littered with the biters. There was one particularly close on my left, so I wasted no more time. I held my rifle in place behind me and ran as fast and swiftly as I could to the tanker, finding my way up the small and short ladder. I surveyed the area, noticing that the biters hadn't really noticed us, and the gas station was just a few feet on the other side of this tanker. Checking back on my brother, I could see that he was nearly to the bottom of the ladder, so I extended my hand when he made his way to it which he accepted.
"Good thing the gas ain't so far," I pointed towards the gas station.
Daryl tromped ahead of me and jumped down the cab of the truck, heading for the gas station, so I followed suit.
"Psst! Hey!" We heard a male voice call out to us, prompting the both of us to walk towards the front door. "Over here, guys." I tried for the knob. It was locked. "Don't open that! I'm inside the station."
"Got that," I said sarcastically.
"Somethin' you want, huh?" Daryl faced the young man through a space in the window that hadn't been boarded up. "I ain't standin' out here playin' bait all day."
He was a young white guy in his twenties or maybe early thirties in a black baseball cap and white t-shirt. His scruffy facial hair fit the rest of his Georgian hillbilly appearance. His body language showed his fear which was greater than Blake's. He crouched low, glancing all around to check for biters.
"You got a car?" The man cut Daryl off. "You need gas, right? I can get you gas. I'm Warren."
"Joel," I introduced. "This is my brother, Daryl."
Now we're talking. I wasn't going to let Daryl's abrasiveness get in the way of this guy helping us.
"It's a truck," Daryl corrected. "What happened here?"
"The eaters happened," Warren answered as if it was the most obvious thing. "Me and my dad holed up here with Uncle Lester. The town held 'em off okay... until we lost all the cops. All but Blake."
"Uncle Lester?" Daryl repeated. "Lucky Les?"
"Yeah, the same. He and Dad went out to see who was left. I don't think they're coming back... but Uncle Lester has the key to the generator cage."
"And the pumps won't run without those generators, I presume," I replied.
"Right. You guys get the keys and crank the ginny; I use my codes to turn on the pumps, and we get out of here. Win-win."
Daryl scoffed. "You're comin' with now?"
"Daryl," I said. "We talked about this. And he's helpin' us. We don't get out of here without his gas. We don't know where Les dropped the key."
"Yeah, I'm not stayin' here, buddy," Warren agreed. "We got a deal?"
"Yes, we do," I answered before Daryl could. "Tell us where your uncle might have dropped the key."
Warren offered me a nervous chuckle.
"That's the thing," Daryl began before Warren could answer. "He don't know. Do you?"
"Look, all they told me was that they were lookin' for who was left. They could've started and ended up anywhere."
Daryl shook his head and walked off.
"We'll be back," I told Warren, following after my older brother.
A shot went off in the distance, taking out a biter advancing on us. It startled me at first, then I remembered the deal Blake had struck with us.
Daryl took out a second one with his crossbow, the frustration evident in the way he quickly shot the thing in the face.
"Stay quiet," he ordered. "There's still a hell of 'em around."
"Should we split up? Might make findin' these keys faster.
"Nah," Daryl disagreed. "Last thing I need to do is go lookin' for you lost somewhere after I've found 'em."
"Maybe Blake has the right idea with those radios."
"Won't be an issue if you just stay here with me."
This was his way of masking those protective older brother tendencies. He led the way off to the right where we found a small grassy walkway along a brick wall. There were a few biters which Daryl easily took down with his crossbow. I found it was easier to let Daryl do all of the work as his weapon was most quiet and efficient.
We made our way past an overturned truck to face a larger number of biters, about six of them. This I wouldn't have Daryl do on his own, so I drew the hammer back out. I let Daryl take the first down with his crossbow. While he retrieved his bolt, I took on the second with my hammer. We repeated this rotation until the area was clear, and we found ourselves at the entrance of what I remembered to be a trailer park near the end of the brick wall.
"Should've holed up here. Walls could've kept the town a lot safer," I observed.
"See why they didn't," Daryl gestured ahead where there was a number of biters, too many for us to take on. "Bet you this is where Les and his brother bit the bullet. They would've checked the trailer park for folks first."
"Maybe they didn't. Maybe they're still alive, stuck somewhere."
"Wishful thinkin'."
"We should sneak in. See if we remain undetected."
"Let's do it," Daryl agreed. "You go on ahead first. I'll stay a bit behind you. If any of 'em notice us, leave it to me. You keep goin'. Gotta find them keys."
"Alright. Just don't get killed."
I crouched back down low, maneuvering my way around the trailers and cars. I'd been to this trailer park before. It was almost as trashy as the one the Dixons and Collins called their home. It was off the beaten path, some of the homes I don't believe even had proper running water and electricity. I could see a small Sedan ahead which blocked off the center of the park. It looked like something I could push aside easy enough, so I walked up and placed my hands on the rear, beginning to push. The thing budged but not enough. Daryl joined me and we pushed the light-blue vehicle out of the way.
"Daryl!"
He took out the biter advancing on him swiftly, lying it down in the grass as quiet and gentle as he could to not alert the other ones present.
The center of the trailer park had been blocked off similarly to the way the rest of the town did. Trailers, cars, and another semi secured the perimeter, but not too effectively, as bodies littered the area. In the grass we spotted a familiar red jacket, a spade emblem in place of the pocket.
"There's Lucky Les," Daryl said. "Hope he's still got that ginny key on him."
Daryl walked up to search the body when Les's eyes suddenly shot open, grabbing on to Daryl's arms, snapping at him ferociously.
"What the hell!" Daryl cried, struggling with the presumed corpse. "He was dead!"
I quickly rushed over to Daryl, stomping on Les's face, forcing him to let go of my brother.
"Back up!" Daryl growled at me.
He unsheathed his knife and took out all of his anger on Les's face, stabbing him several times over.
"Let's go," I pulled Daryl off of him. "Can't forget about the other biters."
I reached into Les's jeans pocket and pulled out a key ring. I went ahead and grabbed some rifle bullets that were littered around Les and grabbed a green Gatorade, throwing it to Daryl who opened it and took a huge swig. He tossed it back to me where I killed the rest of it.
"Can't lay around here," Daryl snapped back into it, gesturing towards a biter coming towards us from where we had entered.
Daryl raised his crossbow and took out the offender. As he went to pull the bolt out of its head, I saw a worried look overcome his features.
"More of 'em?" I inquired.
"Too many," Daryl answered. "We don't got no choice. Make a run for it!"
I began to jog and escalated that into a run, catching up to Daryl who was whizzing past a few of the living dead. One had gotten too close, but Daryl quickly kicked it, causing it to stumble back and have a domino effect on many of the others. This allowed us to get out much easier and head back towards the gas station.
"Hey! You got it?" Warren asked through the glass.
"You bet your ass we did," I replied. "Hurry up now, the biters are on us!"
Gunshots had begun to go off in the background. I knew it was Blake covering us.
"Okay, you guys have to open the ginny cage," Warren instructed, gesturing to his left. "Uh, are my dad and Uncle Lester behind you?"
I shook my head.
"Just get the pumps on, okay, Warren?" Daryl urged, more empathy than usual in his tone.
He knew what it was like to lose family after all.
"Oh, okay," Warren looked defeated. "It's all ready. Open the cage and hit the primer."
I wasn't going to wait around for anymore permission. I rushed over to the cage and fumbled with the key ring until I found the right one, opening the cage.
I heard Warren calling out asking about where our car was, but we didn't have time for this. It was Daryl and my ass on the line while Blake and Warren stayed hidden.
Within the cage were a bunch of buttons and circuitry, but I was familiar enough with generators to assume that pulling the big lever should turn it on. I was right. The gas station lit up, and the humming of the coolers and other equipment inside filled the air. This was the only noise in the town though, and it was bound to attract a bunch of biters. We had to move quick, or we wouldn't make it.
Daryl was already on the fueling when I got back out to the front of the gas station, and I could see the dead approaching quick. He was filling up a gas cannister as quickly as he could. I took out my rifle, lining the scope up with the nearest biter, taking it out with a headshot before unloading the shell and loading another bullet into it.
"It's full!" Daryl told me.
"Warren, time to go!" I called to the man. "We ain't waitin' on you!"
Warren rushed out of the gas station, and I grabbed onto his shirt collar, pushing him forward. Daryl was already leading the way and climbing up the ladder in the back of the semi that had originally blocked our way.
"Make a run for the semi!" I commanded to Warren. "I got your back. You're gonna be okay."
The guy was a nervous wreck. I couldn't blame him, but I knew he would need to keep it together or he might not make it out of this town.
I kept my rifle close, ready to fire a shot if need be. Warren was tripping all over himself, and I kept having to urge and push him along until he made it to the ladder and began to climb up.
"We got a problem," Daryl stated.
"Daryl, not right now!" I called. "Help him up! The biters are on us!"
Daryl reluctantly held a hand down and pulled Warren up, me right on his tails. I then knew what Daryl was talking about. There was an entire army, so to speak, of biters on the other side of the truck. They were surely moving down from the mountains. It seemed there were a lot of them up there.
"Oh, God, oh fuck, what do we do?" Warren cried.
"First thing's first, you need to calm the hell down, boy!" Daryl yelled.
"My brother's right," I said to Warren, putting a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "Freaking out is going to get you killed. You don't want that. They can't climb ladders from what I can see. That's why Blake is safe. As long as we're up here, we're alive."
"We can't stay up here forever though," Daryl remarked. "So quit pissin' yourself. All we can do is make a run for it."
Daryl didn't wait for anyone to protest and jumped down the cab of the truck, making his way through the cars towards the truck. Gunshots went off and I could see that Blake and Jess had their handguns drawn, taking out the dead behind Daryl.
"You heard him!" I said to Warren. "Go now or you ain't gonna make it! I'll be behind you."
I gave the man a shove forward towards the cab and he gave into my persuasion, copying Daryl's movements and making his way frantically towards the truck. I slung the rifle over my shoulder, drawing out my revolver and following right after Warren. He had several close calls with biters, but my great aim had been there to ensure his safety.
"Get over here!" Jess called to me.
"I'm workin' on it!" I shouted, jumping over a road stop and into the back of the truck.
Daryl was quickly filling the gas tank, Jess taking position in the driver's seat again. Blake took a seat next to him, and I pulled Warren up into the bed. Once Daryl was finished, Jess started the truck. Daryl then joined Warren and I in the back, and Jess swerved around the outer roads of town, taking the long way out of dodge.
The back window of the cab slid open.
"Where's the batteries?" Blake asked.
"Didn't have time for them," I shook my head.
"Dammit," Blake swore.
"Batteries for what?" Warren quizzed.
"Kessler in the cell block," Blake answered. "I wanted to know if he was okay."
"He's alive," Warren told him. "My radio was still in order. I told him we were gettin' out of here, but he refused to leave."
"Dumb son of a bitch," Blake shook his head. "His problem now."
"Better than being our problem," Daryl remarked.
"People are a resource right now," I countered. "Blake's good with long distance firearms. We need that."
"I know a lot about medicine and healthcare," Warren interjected. "I'm a pharmacist... well, I was, I suppose. I'm the first in my family to go to college."
"See," I said to Daryl. "He knows shit we don't."
"Merle's enough of a pharmacist," Daryl replied.
I laughed and Blake gave a disapproving look, closing the back window.
"Y'all from here?" Warren asked.
"Yeah," I grunted.
"I thought I'd seen y'all around before. I suppose y'all know my family if you know Uncle Lester. The Bedfords. We're a close-knit bunch. Uncle Lester was always the one I was closest to. He sponsored me throughout college. I figured since I have asthma I'd want to know more about medicine, help other people."
"Bad time to have asthma," Daryl replied.
"I'm sure I have enough puffs left to make it to Atlanta," Warren replied.
I exchanged a look with Daryl. We'd have to part ways with these people at some point. Maybe Atlanta was an eventual destination for us, but right now, Merle was the priority.
We drove for a while until I noticed that the sun was starting to set in the sky. I knew I wasn't the only one completely tired and worn out, but I simply doubted that I was the only one who wanted to stop.
I banged on the back of the window until Blake slid it open.
"Gettin' dark, Jess," I said.
"And?" he replied.
"We need sleep. Ain't gonna last without it."
"We need to find Merle is what we need to do. Poor bastard is probably still locked in a cage."
"How do you know this Merle is even alive?" Blake challenged.
"He's alive," Daryl snapped. "And don't be askin' me no dumb ass questions again. Y'all wanted to join us so bad, you ain't gonna say shit about how we go about our shit. Or you can get goin' now."
"I'm going to have to agree with my brother on this one, but if we don't get rest, we're not going to be any good at keeping ourselves alive."
"I'll pull over at the next house we come by," Jess agreed then closed the back window before he would have to listen to Daryl's opposition to this plan.
Daryl scoffed.
"We get our rest, then we're gone," I said to him. "No waitin' around for anyone or anythin'."
"Y'all got 8 hours," he caved.
"We were gonna need it sooner or later. Might as well get it out of the way."
We drove a little while longer until Jess pulled into a farmhouse in the mountains.
"Been a while since I've been on a farm," Warren commented, jumping out of the vehicle.
"Not so fast, Doc," I said. "Daryl, Blake, and I will search the place. You and Jess watch the car. If you have any capability, I need you to have a look at Jess's wound."
"I mean I can try, but I'm no doctor. Just a pharmacist."
"You've been promoted," I told him. "You're the best we've got for now." I then turned to Blake. "We don't want to be firing any shots here. We could wake up with a whole horde of them outside then we're done. Use the butt of your rifle if you don't have a knife."
"Butt of my .338 Lapua will do," he said, smugly flaunting his gun knowledge.
Daryl scoffed at him. I did so internally.
The farmhouse was in nice condition. It was a big white house with a few sheds and things surrounding it. There were no vehicles that I could see anywhere, so I assumed the owners were long gone. I couldn't spot too many biters around, so it was safe to say this could be a good place to set up camp for the night.
"I'll take out these two," Daryl volunteered.
He raised his crossbow and took out the first one as Blake and I proceeded to the house.
The front door had been left open and a biter stood in the way.
"Your turn," I looked to Blake and gestured towards the biter.
I wanted to see what he could do up close; if he was willing to get his hands dirty.
Blake held the back of his rifle up and slammed it into the back of the biter's head, knocking the thing down before lifting the gun up and driving it into the skull repeatedly.
He wasn't as calm as Daryl or me about it, but he could hold his own. The house looked like it had been mostly cleaned out, like the original tenants took what they could and left in a hurry. It lacked personality, like a house in a magazine, but most of that could have been due to what the owners took when they left or if anyone else had come by and cleaned it out. To the right of the front entrance was a dining room where I spotted a few rifle bullets lying on the ground, picking them up and pocketing them.
We then proceeded through the next door into the kitchen where I began opening all of the cupboards, but they were all empty. A few more rounds, this time for a shotgun laid on the floor as if dropped in a hurry to escape. Blake and I raised our guns in alert to the sound of the backdoor opening to see Daryl entering.
"Jeez," he said.
"Find anything?" I asked, lowering my weapon.
"A flair, enough fuel," he answered. "You?"
"Some loose bullets. This place was cleaned out. Whoever was here took just about everything."
"Well, we ain't done yet," Daryl replied. "Let's search the rest of the house then call it a night."
We did just that, but my suspicions were correct. Whoever had been here took about everything of use like they had been planning on leaving for a few days then finally left in a hurry. If I were to guess, they had loaded up for Atlanta then suddenly got overrun. I was happy enough to have a warm bed to sleep in and get the day off of me.
The five of us men stood around the dining table, rationing the little bit we had of food, mostly what Blake had been able to bring, along with all of the Gatorade bottles we'd collected.
"I have to ask," Warren began, chewing on a piece of beef jerky. "What did y'all find when you found those keys?"
"I don't know about your dad," I sighed. "Les was gone when we found him. He was one of them."
"One of them?" Jess challenged.
"A biter," Daryl nodded.
"Somethin' about it's contagious," Blake agreed. "All those biters, people we knew. We just don't know how it happens, what determines it."
"That's the thing," I began. "Have y'all seen them up close? I don't think they're alive. Those things they're gone. And they don't smell good either."
"I think you're onto somethin'," Blake agreed.
I didn't want to think any more about this, so I took what was left of my rations upstairs and went to sleep.
Words: 15, 860
Please, please, please give me the most honest feedback possible. Spelling and grammatical mistakes? Badly written characters? Plot holes? I'm using fanfiction as a way to improve my original writing, so I need feedback desperately. This will eventually have a surprise romance. I have who it will be with in mind, but I am completely open to suggestion. This story will start by following the story line of Survival Instinct, the Daryl Dixon prequel video game and go into the main Walking Dead story line, however it will not be just another character insert story. Joel's decisions and influence will cause the story to break off at some point or different points. I have nothing planned; I am simply allowing the story to write itself. Characters may be introduced differently and at different times than in the show, some will outlive their deaths, some will have a different trajectory when it comes to character development. Updates will be based upon comments/reviews, follows, and likes, so keep them coming if you'd like to see more!
