Day 3: Distance or Death
Duluth, Georgia, United States of America
8:45am, June 29th, 2010
Although sleep came quick last night, it did not come easily. The backseat of the Sprinter required me to bend in an awkward angle to not fall off of the seat, leaving my legs aching in now that morning came. I hated feeling that crick in my knees.
I opened the big sliding door to see the bright sun shining down upon through the large glass windows, heating the air up. It seemed I was sleeping in later and later each and every day. Over in the back corner, Merle's back was faced towards me, his left hand resting on the wall above his head. I heard an unpleasant trickling coming from his direction.
"Real classy, Merle, we got a lady with us," I said to him.
"I don't wanna hear nothin' from you, boy," he spat, zipping his fly up and turning around. "You know you wouldn't be here with us if Daryl hadn't happened to be up in those mountains when the world went to shit."
"Is that right?" I challenged, taking a brave step closer to him. "You really think that I'd have let you rot in a cell like an animal? That I would just leave Daryl out alone in this world?!"
"I got my damn self out of that cell!" he shouted back. "I didn't no help from no one!"
"Sure didn't look like it with what you were doin' on the roof!"
"Wait, he was on the roof?" Mia's voice interjected.
Shit.
"If you wasn't with Daryl, you would have left me behind, same as you did dad and Uncle Jess!" he replied.
There was a tense pause.
"Merle, Daryl didn't tell you?" I asked him, lowering my voice.
"Tell me what now?!" he didn't bother to match my pitch.
"Eaters got a hold of both of 'em," I said.
"Oh," a look of sorrow overcame his face. "Okay. I hope it was slow and painful for dad."
"It was until I… put him out of his misery," I confessed.
He put a comforting hand on my shoulder. This is how it was for Merle. The guy cared about other people, Daryl and I especially, but didn't have the first clue how to go about living and interacting in a healthy or collaborative way. You had a yelling match with him, he tried to bring you down, then he empathized with you.
"I woulda let 'em bleed out," he said.
"Wait a minute!" Mia interjected again. "What was he doing on the roof? Roof of the police station?"
"Yes, the roof of the station," I admitted, earning me a warning glare from Merle. "He was trying to stop the sniper. We helped him out."
"Oh," Mia replied. "Did you…"
"Doesn't matter," I said. "He's not going to hurt anyone else anymore. Your friends will be safe."
"Some friends they are, leavin' you behind," Daryl's voice came around the corner. "I got up early this mornin' syphoned some gas. Wasn't much else to scavenge here other than car parts and some employee snacks."
"Good," I said. "We'll take the Sprinter. It's big enough for everyone to have their own space and to carry plenty of supplies."
"Alright," Daryl replied.
My eyes wandered past Daryl to see all of the gas cannisters he had filled up, and it was certainly enough to last us awhile.
"They keep these things on full tank, I guess," I said to no one in particular. "Let's go ahead, pack this thing up and get the show on the road."
"Now hold on a minute," Merle interjected. "Maybe we don't go? Maybe we stayed holed up here. It's quiet, there's not a lot of those abominations runnin' around."
"That's not the worst idea," Daryl said.
"We can always come back though," I replied. "We've seen how it was out there- Blue Ridge, Lawrenceville, even Cherry Log was fucked. I say we should check out Atlanta. That doesn't mean we stay long term- some of us at least," I looked over to Mia. "But we may be able to take a breather there while we figure out what's going on. We don't even know yet where this whole thing is going, if this is the end, if the government will have a better grip on it in a month."
"Doubtful," Merle chuckled.
I knew he was right. The government had a hell of a time handling even small epidemics such as the Spanish flu in the 1920's, so there was little chance that they'd be able to get any grip on this. But that was ninety years ago.
"I have to say," Mia began. "Lawrenceville was well-protected too, but we all saw what happened to it. Too many people crowd in one place, one eater gets in, and then everything goes to shit from there. Atlanta, it might not be safe or sustainable."
"Where else do we go then?" I shot my hands up in the air. "Look around us. Maybe Duluth is quiet, but if it's so close to Atlanta, it won't stay that way. We can't go back towards Blue Ridge. There's no where left. Atlanta has to be our best bet. Sure, there might be overcrowding, but how many people do you think really made it there? With all of the government and military in Georgia, maybe even the whole southeast dedicated to protectin' the city, we might have a shot at survival. And no offense, but I don't want your blood or Blake's on our hands."
"You can't look at it that way," Mia countered. "There can't be a separation between you three and Blake and myself. We're together now, we're looking out for each other no matter what happens. I can take care of myself. I'm sure Blake can too. I'll have your backs, you guys have mine, and my blood won't be your responsibility."
Mia's words provided me with a different perspective. I contemplated them for a moment. We'd only met her yesterday, but surviving together brought people closer, even people who logically shouldn't get along like Daryl and Blake. I had seen that the two gained a level of respect for each other. As well, even though Merle was originally creepy towards Mia, she was out of options on who to stick with. Somebody was better than nobody.
"Alright, then," I replied. "We stay together then. You and Blake are one of us. Atlanta or not."
"I trust you, Joel," Daryl spoke up. "We check out Atlanta then. Gotta wake up this lazy ass cop though. Always the last one sleepin' in."
Daryl walked off and Merle let out an antagonistic chuckle as Mia walked away. I didn't want to hear his thoughts, but I couldn't get away fast enough.
"A couple of nights on the road, and now my brothers are all buddy-buddy with a cop and got a pair of tits under your wing," he said. "I mean, I could partly expect that from you, but what have you done to Daryl?"
"We've kept each other alive, that's what we've done," I held strong eye contact with him, letting him know that I wasn't his little brother that he could just push around anymore. "And you Merle, you can keep yourself alive, I know that much, but I don't trust you for a minute with keepin' anyone else alive."
"I would do anythin' to protect you and Daryl!" he shouted.
I had clearly struck a nerve. I was tired of arguing with a forty-one-year-old man, so I walked off to find the bathroom and relieve myself. Once I was finished, I returned to the Sprinter where it seemed that everyone had finished loading up supplies. Blake was sitting in the passenger's seat, resting his head against the window, obviously still groggy. Daryl climbed up into the first row of seats, with Mia already in the very back where I'd slept the night before.
Merle opened up the large garage door and I drove the Sprinter out, parking right in front of the main entry doors to wait for Merle who was closing the doors. He was really serious about keeping the place safe for a potential return. I was just glad he was able to show that he could think ahead. The effects of dope and the sun exposure from yesterday were wearing off.
As soon as we could see Merle returning from the double doors, Daryl swung them open and let him in. He sat down in the middle row of seats, and I drove off towards Atlanta.
"Did, uh," Merle broke the silence. "Did Dad say anythin' when he died?"
Daryl shook his head, and I could see him looking at me through the rearview mirror. He didn't know that I'd told Merle yet, I suppose.
"He couldn't really say anythin'," I said. "Like I said, he was torn apart, no way of recovery."
"Merle needs meds," Daryl said. "He don't look too good after everythin'."
"We're forty-five minutes from Atlanta," I said.
"Think about whatever customs they got goin' on there though," Daryl pointed out. "Think it'll be faster to go on and loot a pharmacy or someone's medicine cabinet."
"What are you sayin', that I should turn around? Go back into Duluth?"
"Nah," he said. "We take the next exit. No point in turnin' around and wastin' the gas."
Nobody else said anything, so I thought it best to do what Daryl said. After a few minutes of driving, I pulled off into the next town, Berkely Lake.
"I heard some of the hospital's are up and running still," Mia offered. "Berkely Lake was supposedly one of the towns that has a lot of health care still up and running."
"I ain't goin' to no hospital," Merle spat. "Where all the sick ones are goin' in all this? That's just askin' to die."
"Thank you, Mia, but Merle's right," I said. "That's a risk. We'll scavenge somewhere here that's quieter."
"Anywhere's a good place to start," Daryl said. "Pull off to these houses here. If we split up, we can find more faster."
I did as Daryl said and pulled into a nice neighborhood. No eaters were in sight, so I'd guess that we were safe, and there was no reasonable sign of any living people still in the area. Daryl pulled open the side door, letting the three backseat riders get out, and Blake and I stepped out of the passenger and driver seat, respectively.
"I'm gonna take off by myself," I told them.
"You sure?" Daryl asked.
"Need my space," I said. "Besides, you saw that I did just fine by myself back at Buck's cabin, remember?"
"I told you that I trust you," he said. "Merle and I'll start here."
"That leaves me and you," Blake said to Mia.
"I'm more than okay with that," came her reply.
I knew that she particularly didn't want to spend time with Merle. Which I didn't either. If I didn't go by myself, I'd be expected to be with Daryl and Merle, and I didn't want to be responsible for the latter. As for Blake and Mia, we were still developing a respect for each other, but they were still strangers. I wouldn't trust them with my life over the trust I had for myself.
Before entering any houses, I spotted a sign that said,
Cherokee Hills Lumber Mill
Next Left
Underneath the sign was written in bright red letters,
Survivors Camp
Join Us if you'll help the community
They had likely searched a lot of these houses already if they were still standing. If anywhere had meds, it had to be there. I took it upon myself to travel by foot towards the left spoken of on the sign. It may not have seemed like the smart move but bringing Merle around a group of people when needing their help would be even dumber.
The lumber mill was right around the corner, really, and I was disappointed by what I'd saw when I arrived. A cabin stood tall as entry way, the rest of mill surrounded by strong fencing. In dirt parking lot outside were a group of pickup and logging trucks, bodies littering the area. It looked as though they'd been overrun too. Mia was right. Nothing really lasted wherever people congregated.
A particularly ugly, lone eater stumbled out from between the trucks, reaching for me as it walked. Merle still had the hammer, so my weapon choices were cut a bit short. Using the butt of my rifle, I slammed him hard against the face, knocking him over before using my boot to finish the job with several forceful stomps.
The area was surrounded by giant severed logs, and I could see stacks of already processed wood under a covered area. At the beginning of the stacks, I saw something that caught my eye lying on the ground.
I walked up and observed the weapon, taking it in my hands. It was an old fashioned Swedish ag M/42. This would be a lot more efficient than the rifle I was carrying around now. Assuming that it was in good condition. It was physically lighter and would shoot a lot more bullets per minute, if I was ever in a tight situation. I slung my bolt action over my shoulder, pulling the strap tight. This rifle would be my next preferred weapon.
"Attention! We've got goons near the stacks. Try and get a light on them," a voice called out as if over an intercom. So, I was wrong, there were still people surviving here. It looked like things weren't going so well though. The stacks were where I was. The question was, do I reveal myself or try hiding? I opted to hide because I didn't want to be mistaken for a 'goon.' I had to say, I liked that a lot better than eaters, or biters, or abominations like Merle called them. "Dammit people! We've got to keep a sharper watch! Travis, get a group out there to check the west fences. There's a hole out there somewhere. Watch for stragglers, only takes one to ruin your day."
That was when the gunshots started going off, left and right. What were they thinking? They were going to draw in a hell of a lot more of them at this rate. Did they not know how to fight face to face? Or were there just a lot more eaters than I originally thought.
I had to get out of the open. Last thing I wanted was to be in the line of fire. I quickly dashed forwards into the dark area where all of the wood stacks were. Though I realized quickly that this was a bad idea. The interior of the area echoed with groans, and I still was without a flashlight. Daryl had the only one.
Before I ran into any eaters, I dashed back out, making it for the cabin I had seen earlier. I got to the cabin safely enough, but I was disappointed by what I found inside. The place was infested with the dead. I saw supplies laying on the kitchen counter- guns, ammo, food. This I would have to come back for. Maybe I could get the others, and we could help them secure their camp in exchange for some of these supplies?
This wasn't something to ponder now, though. The dead infesting the cabin had turned their attention back to me, so I quickly rushed back out of the door, slamming it behind me. There were maybe four or five of them in the cabin, so I didn't trust that the door would hold. I would have to put some distance between it and myself.
I ran over to the left side of the cabin to find spotlights shining down and searching the area from high walls. Several eater bodies littered the ground, and more ones still walking were approaching. It looked like they weren't a group for close combat. Some of the bodies and eaters that I'd seen I had to assume were fallen members of their group.
Looking over to the far-right side, I could see that there was a breach in the fencing, so I made a run for it, successfully making it through amongst the gunfire. I had chosen to avoid being caught in the spotlight, as I'm sure they would have been able to see that I wasn't one of them- the dead that is.
"Mallory!" the intercom voice came through again. That was probably what was attracting so many of them, on top of the gunfire. "Goons have broken through! Get over here and help! We've called for military assistance, but there's only one recon chopper in the area. They won't get here in time…"
Inside of the fencing was a large display of military-grade tents, undoubtedly where the survivors at this camp were calling home. My mind tried to figure out the back story of this place. The camp had to be filled with the mill workers and their families, but it seemed the military may have been helping keep them up and running, and they were likely taking in other survivors in the area.
Some of the tents formed somewhat of a circle with a campfire set up in the middle. The campfire was still ongoing, but there were eaters feasting on who had presumably been sitting around the fire just moments before. That breach had to have just happened. I couldn't afford for any of them to see me, there were so many. The campfire casted shadows of more of them wandering around, so I wasn't so sure of how many of them I was truly dealing with. I needed a moment to catch my breath, so I pulled up one of the tent flaps and entered.
It was dark and musty inside, and an eater feasting on a fallen camp member turned its rotting face towards me. Without hesitation, I slammed the butt of the semi-auto into its face, taking it down. I held it down by stepping on its throat and slammed the rifle down into it again. I'd really need to find a bladed weapon soon. This blunt force was wearing me down.
I couldn't stay here in this tent, it wasn't secure. I would have to be careful though. This place was on its way out, but it had to have an infirmary, meds, anything. I lied myself flat on the ground and lifted up the bottom of the tent. Outside, were the feet of the dead shuffling by my face, oblivious to my presence. Not far from me, I spotted a tall brick building, two separate entry doors with small staircases leading up to them. The chain link fencing stopped on either side of the building, so it looked as though they had used the structure as part of their protection. This would be the only way out.
I cautiously made a step out of the tent, crouching down low and making sure my steps were as quiet as possible. If I made for it at the right window of time, there would be no problem in me getting to the building undetected and unharmed, so I decided on patience, watching the eaters stumble by me. When the time was right, I made a run for it, heading for the first door.
"Get over here," a male voice beckoned.
I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or somebody else. The door was jammed though, a desk pushed in front of it. When I tried the handle, it was locked as well.
At least there was another door.
Making a run for it, I made my way to the second door, but I had gotten reckless in my haste, alerting the attention of the dead. There were more of them than I could count, but the door was just up ahead. God, I hoped it was unlocked and clear. Running on pure adrenaline, I grabbed onto the railing and hoisted myself over, opening the door and slamming it behind me. Hopefully the gunshots would draw their attention elsewhere.
I found myself in a barely lit room, and a grumble from the other side let me know that I was not alone. The eater stumbled its ways out of the shadow, one foot dragging behind itself. All I could do was be grateful that it was only one. I took it out easy enough with the butt of my gun. I could see that I was in some sort of employee break room, a kitchenette on the far end and long tables filling out the tile floor room. In the kitchenette area was a ladder going upwards, but there was also a door leading into the next room, so I was given a few options of where to explore next.
I figured that the door might lead to the person who may or may not have been calling me, and it would be worth it to see if they needed help.
Going through the door, I found myself in a yard of sorts. It was fenced in by more chain link with no way over into the area. I guess the two doors weren't to an attached building.
The yard was more of a narrow pathway. I could see that it went around the corner in the opposite direction, so it was worth checking it for supplies. I followed the area down the back, surprised to see a woman scavenging the area for supplies.
"Ah, there has to be somethin' here," she said, her Georgian accent thick.
"Excuse me, ma'am," I spoke to her.
Maybe I would have been better off keeping to myself, but I had to admit that I had more of a soft spot for women. My mother had died when I was incredibly young, too young to remember. I had always been surrounded by men and they hadn't been good to me. Maybe that had worked in favor to the standing of women in my life.
She spun around; her face bright with caution. I was a picky man, but I noticed how good looking she was, her tight blonde ponytail working with her strong cheekbones and heart-shaped jaw. This wasn't a time to think about this though. I thought her a little older than me, maybe late twenties or early thirties.
"Don't go sneakin' up on me like that," she said. "Who are you?"
"My name's Joel Dixon," I said, relaxing my body posture a bit to see if she would relax as well. "I'm lookin' for meds for my brother. Got in here through a breach in the fence."
"Kennedy Owens," she introduced. That wasn't a name I'd often met other people with. It had reminded me of my mother, that being her surname. I didn't know much of that side of the family though. "I got separated from my aunt, and I'm hoping to stay alive long enough to find her. You got any food you could spare? I found some gas. You can have it…"
"I don't have anything on me, but back at my van," I explained.
"I'm not leavin' here 'til I find my aunt," she quickly rebutted.
"Fair enough," I said. "There's a kitchen right through that door. We could check it out if you want to come with. I've already killed the one eater in there."
She narrowed her gray eyes as if trying to read for an ulterior motive.
"Well enough," she said.
I began walking back towards the door, Kennedy right behind me. I knew it wasn't the time for any of this, but the backwoods accent didn't really do it for me. It was probably due to that being my own accent, the one I predominantly heard growing up. I liked things that were different, things that didn't remind me of my childhood. Her having my mother's maiden name as her first name made my attraction towards her turn into a fondness.
She and I approached the kitchenette area, and she began open the cabinet next to the fridge. To our surprise, the thing was fully stocked of boxed and canned foods.
"Looks like you're in luck," I said to her.
"I'm not the only one," she replied. "That's a lot of gas out there. I'm not in need of any of it. My aunt and I could really use this food."
"Of course," I replied. "We had an agreement. But if you guys would like to join me, my brothers and I have a small group. I know our one woman would probably be more than happy to not be the only one."
"Maybe," she replied, "but I won't be leavin' here 'til I find my aunt."
"We'll find her," I assured her. "The way I see it, you've got somebody to find, and I've got somethin' to find. We can stick together for now. I'll help y'all pack up the food in your vehicle if you'd like."
"Look, I can take care of myself," she told me. "But two sets of eyes are better than one, especially in these days. I'm fine with sticking together for now."
I was glad she agreed to tag along for the sake of her safety as well as mine. I led the way up the ladder, Kennedy right on my heels. Getting to the top, I found myself on a flat roof.
"Who's left?" the intercom voice boomed again. "Come on back. Anyone? Mallory? Report in!"
I was shocked to see a helicopter overhead, flying right over me, followed by a few gunshots.
"Get back!" this was a second voice that came in over a radio.
I was either very close to someone with a radio or somebody had dropped one.
I dashed to the other side of the roof, my instinct for the helicopter to see me, but it was too fast.
"Travis! You there? Travis?!" the same voice over the intercom called out.
Making my way to the other side of the roof, I found another ladder leading down. There was clearly no where else to go but in this direction, so I made my way down. I had almost forgotten about Kennedy amidst seeing the helicopter, but sure enough, I saw her making her way down the ladder shortly after me.
I quickly spun around to see a black man in a baseball cap and a plaid orange button-down shirt.
"I ain't gonna shoot you," he assured me. "Not now."
Oh, how safe that last part made me feel.
He stood alone on the other side of the room, this room almost like a mirror to the last one. Again, there was a kitchenette on the other side, but this room was more well-lit and differently furnished with bookshelves aligning the walls.
"Why you plannin' on shootin' us at all?" I challenged him.
"You're the stranger then?" he asked, albeit angrily. "Was it worth it? All of… all of this? We had a good thing goin' here. Little way station, goons kept outside. I was able to protect these people. Why'd you do it?"
"What are you talkin' about?" I asked incredulously.
"The breach in this fence," he said. "That wasn't y'all?"
"Hell no," I replied, but realized, maybe it was Kennedy after all. I wasn't going to get her in trouble though. She seemed like she'd just wanted to find her aunt after all. "I know to hop one before I'd make way for a bunch of eaters."
He waved a hand dismissively.
"Means y'all still got someone in here to worry about," Kennedy replied calmly.
"Look," I began, "my brother is real sick. I thought you guys might have meds, that's the only reason I… we waltzed up in here."
"Meds?" he repeated. "Yeah, I suppose. Guess that ALL I got now. Is this enough to buy me a ticket out of here?"
"Absolutely," I replied. "You need a ride? I got you."
"Main gate is that way," he continued, pointing his handgun out towards a doorway. "It's still blocked, last I saw. You gotta cut through the sawmill to get out. It's gated too. I got the code key. I have more ammo stashed. I'll grab it, and I'll meet you at the gate. Hopefully."
"Don't go getting' yourself killed," I advised. "Hey, what's your name?"
"Mike," he said. "Mike Swenson. I was the foreman here."
"Got it, Mike Swenson. Joel Dixon, this is Kennedy Owens."
"You can take that med bag off the counter, I'll see you soon," he said and left out the door.
"It was nice meetin' you, Joel Dixon," Kennedy said. "But I gotta find my aunt. I'm afraid… I'm afraid she could have made the breach in the fence. Thank you for not accusing me of… anything. She has a screw loose, that's why I look out for her."
"I didn't even know you weren't part of their camp until he implied so," I admitted, grabbing the bag of meds off the counter. "It ain't none of my business, what's done can't be undone."
"Don't you want to circle back for the gas?" she asked.
"Keep it for yourself, I got plenty of gas, not enough time," I said, not having time to negotiate whether or not it was a good idea for her to stay by herself. "By the way, never meant that you couldn't take care of yourself by askin' you to tag along. Just thought I might need the backup."
"So it's you who can't take care of yourself?" she cracked a smile.
I smiled back.
"I'm headin' for Atlanta," I placed a hand on the handle of the door, the other gripping my revolver tightly. "Meet me there if y'all live."
I didn't give her a chance to reply, I simply just slipped out after Mike, but the man was not in site any longer.
This door led to an area much like the first backyard was, wooden stairs leading downwards towards an old rundown truck.
I jumped off the side of the stairs in order to avoid the truck. There was no use in being wary of the sound of gunshots when I was on my way out, so I held my revolver tight in my hands. I felt bad that they might bring trouble down upon Kennedy, but my guess was that her aunt was long gone whether by distance or death.
I followed along a chain link fence, an unsufferable metal screeching getting louder and louder as I continued on. Yeah, there was no way this had not attracted a whole lot of them. I was in for it. When I rounded the corner, I saw what was making the noise. A huge conveyer belt still ran, leading to an active lumber saw, plenty of eaters lurking about. One particular eater took notice of me, turning its head in my direction, but before it could take a foot forward, it was consumed by the sawblades, guts and pieces being thrown in every direction. That was when I noticed it. There were piles of guts all around the blades, and the surrounding dead were all stumbling towards the noise. Another walked right into the saw. It must have been the nastiest thing I had ever seen. I knew these things were lacking in cognition, but I didn't know that they were dumb enough to follow a sound to their death. There was no sense of self-preservation in these things. This idea spun several more. There was no such thing as an organism without a sense of a need to evolve, reproduce, and preserve their own life one way or another. These things didn't reproduce in the standard sense, but they did by infection. There was no evolution for them though, no true Darwinism driving them. They were simple to understand because they were nothing like anything else alive.
I rejoiced in the knowing of their lack of intelligence. We had a fighting chance against these things. I could use the factors of noise and their brainless meandering to our advantage. Me and my brothers would live. I knew that much.
I took a step cautiously onto the conveyer belt. It moved slowly. It would have had to in order to keep lumber from piling up too fast and wood chips being thrown everywhere. Off to the side of the belt was a space that I could walk around the blades, big logs queued up all around for the slaughter. I could use them as cover in order to not be noticed by the dead. Making my way around them, I passed through the conveyor belt again then to the other side.
This was when they noticed me. Some of them hadn't quite wandered to their deaths yet, and they stood stalking in my way. It was only three, and I moved and thought quick. I raised the revolver and took them out one by one, headshot after headshot. I leaped over their corpses as they fell and booked it for another breach I spotted in the fence, a panel seeming to have fallen straight down.
Sure enough, there was Mike waiting for me in the seat of his truck. I hopped in the passengers, and he began to speed off.
"Where's your friend?" he asked. "She… didn't make it?"
"I just met her," I admitted. "She was looking for someone. Seemed to have thought her aunt might have been there."
He was silent before he spoke again.
"You didn't tell me that. You were covering for her?"
"It wasn't her. She told me herself. After the fact though. She said she wasn't sure whether or not it was her aunt. But look, what can you do now, Mike? The damage is done. I'm sure you've lost a lot of good people today, but you're alive."
"Where are we goin'?" it felt like he was intentionally changing the subject.
"My brothers and my group are right around the corner," I told him. "There- stop- there's my Sprinter."
Through the truck window, I saw Daryl and Blake gaze up, alert for who may be approaching, then relieved to see me. Daryl gave me a confused grimace at me being accompanied by another man. And I knew that this might be a rocky situation, considering Mike's race and Merle's attitude.
"Thanks to this man, you've got your meds," I quickly attempted to defuse the situation before it even got fused, getting out of Mike's truck.
Merle had a grin on his face as he walked towards me, extending his arm weakly for the plastic baggy of meds. I tossed the bag passed him though and into the arms of Daryl, earning me a frown from my oldest brother. I knew better than to give him a bag full of drugs.
"Gimme that here," he snatched the bag out of Daryl's hands.
Well, there goes that.
"Y'all find anything?" I asked everyone.
"Some food," Daryl grunted.
"Gas, batteries, bandages," Mia added. "It's all loaded up already."
"Good," I said. "No need to waste anymore time."
"We ought to siphon the gas out of that truck first," Daryl waved his hand towards Mike's truck.
Mike answered with a disappointed look.
"He ain't comin' with us, is he?" Merle asked. "Look, I'm sincerely grateful for your kindness, but I don't know that this would be the best… dynamic?"
"What are you talkin' about?" Mike challenged.
"Merle, there's plenty of room in the Sprinter," I quickly jammed in before Merle said something worse.
It was a relief that he was being somewhat subtle.
"I'm more than happy to have people join us," Mia added.
"I am as well," Blake agreed.
"More the merrier," Daryl shrugged.
"The more people we got, the faster we get shit done," I said to Merle. "All hands on deck."
"Fine," he huffed. "You people have it your way. But he ain't sittin' in my row."
The older man slammed open the side door and got in, slamming it shut.
"Don't mind him, he's just not well right now. Sun exposure and all the pressure of everything going on," I half-lied to Mike.
Daryl had already begun syphoning the gas from Mike's tank into an already half-full gas tank, and I ushered the other three into the back of the van. I didn't know if the eaters at the lumbermill would make their way over here, but I wasn't going to sit around to find out.
I kept an eye out as Daryl finished the syphoning, getting back into the driver's seat as soon as he was done and driving off once he was situated inside.
"Mike, I'm sure you've heard the stories about Atlanta," I broke the ice, looking in the rearview back at the man who was sitting in the row with Mia.
"Just stories far as I'm concerned," Merle added.
"I didn't have another destination in mind," Mike admitted. "Where is there to go? Might as well give Atlanta a shot."
"Good as it gets for now," I agreed.
We drove for a while when the walkie radio came on, weakly but audibly.
"…Lumber Sawmill Camp has been compromised. We got there too late."
"We'll keep eyes sharp, Control. If we spot invaders, we'll deal with them…"
"Come on man!" Merle shouted. "We got to get off the road!"
"We ain't got nothin' to do with that," I replied to him.
"They don't care about that," he argued. "They're still after my head, man. And anyway, we can't lead them back to my club."
His comments earned him a distrusting look from the three non-Dixon passengers.
"Man, shut the hell up!" Daryl put in. "They got better things to worry about, bro."
"Who said we're goin' to your club," I replied.
"I did!" he shouted. "You ought to have some respect for your big brother. I kept y'all alive, didn't I?"
"You ran off all the time!" Daryl shouted. "This ain't the time. Calm down, man, and take your pills."
"Shh!" Merle suddenly shouted. "You hear that? Chopper! Yes sir, right there. They spot us? They're sniffin' us out."
Sure enough, the sound of a helicopter zooming by ahead sounded through the open windows.
"Could be the help," Daryl shrugged.
"Will you stop, Merle?!" I yelled, getting tired of his paranoia. "They're headin' to Atlanta. Same as us. Daryl already told you. Bigger fish to fry and all that shit."
"Believe what you'd like," Merle said. "But I'm tellin' you, we should pull off and rustle up a new ride."
"We ain't givin' up the Sprinter," I spoke firmly.
"Man, I ought to get out of this car!" he yelled. "I don't need any of this! Y'all are gonna get me caught!"
"You listen here, redneck asshole," it was Blake's turn to talk again. "We're done with your bullshit. Do as your little brother says and pop those meds, somethin' to knock you out preferably."
"Watch whose brother you wanna call a redneck asshole," Daryl warned.
"You listen here, copper!" Merle shouted over Daryl. "You ain't got no say in this world no more, you would just as easily keep me in a cage as anyone else!"
"You're damn right!" Blake agreed.
"The hell you wanna say to me?!" Merle began to stand up from his seat, but I had to put an end to this as quickly as I could.
I slammed my foot down on the pedal as hard as I could, taking the van faster than I knew that it could go down the highway. Merle flew back in his seat, struggling to hold on to himself in order to not topple over himself.
After Merle stumbled for a while, I stopped the van abruptly. At this point, my oldest brother was flown on the floor, and I looked back at him in rage.
"You done now?!"
To my surprise, Merle bubbled up with laughter.
"My baby brother!" he chortled between laughs. "That was the funniest shit you've ever done! Do it again!"
Daryl spat out a chuckle, and I smiled. I wasn't happy now, but the situation was comical. The acceleration had made me feel a sense of exhilaration. This new world, it was a freer one. No laws to tell us how fast we can and cannot drive. There was no speed limit. Maybe it was boyish to think, but I found speeding to be fun.
"Buckle in this time, then," I said to him, but to everyone as well.
Merle managed to get up on his two feet, and plop back down into his seat. He didn't fasten his seat belt, but he held on tightly to his armrest. Once I saw that he and everyone else was as secure as they chose to be. I went ahead and hit the gas again. Hard. We went speeding down the highway, swerving around the abandoned cars and debris at a dangerous pace. The sound of Merle's laughter roared throughout the truck, and eventually Daryl even chimed in.
It was this. This is what reminded me of boyhood. This is why I stayed so attached to brothers who weren't the same as me and didn't always treat me all that great. When you have to grow up fast, there are parts of you that don't grow up at all. I loved how much of our boyhood we still retained. I don't think I ever had as much fun with anyone as I could with my brothers.
"Wait!" Mike's voice barked over all the laughter. I chose to ignore it at first thought, but his insistence persisted. "Stop the car! There's someone up there."
With that last sentence, I slammed the breaks, running straight into an eater who tumbled over the top of the truck. Merle's eyes followed the sound as it went over the truck much like a playful kitten.
In front of us was a moving van, on top a man in a white shirt wearing a tie looked around himself hopelessly. There was a good eight or nine eaters surrounding him.
"Let's take care of this, then!" I said.
Blake grabbed his rifle and jumped out of the passenger seat. Daryl hopped up and opened the side door, hopping out with his crossbow. Mia and Mike followed him with their weapons readied.
"Come on, now, Joel!" Merle said. "We don't need to go pick up some curry nigger!"
I didn't pay any mind to Merle's slur, just hopped out of the driver's seat and ran after Daryl and the others, beginning to take the dead out with the semiauto rifle. We would be in and out, so I didn't care much if the dead were drawn in.
The five of us took down the group of eaters, no thanks to Merle.
"Thank you! Thank you!" the man shouted from the top of the van.
"We got to get out of here before more show up, my friend!" I said to him, offering him a hand.
It was a long jump, but the man took it and jumped down, landing hard but still on his feet.
"Thank again," he said. "Those things- they just came out of nowhere. Name's Ahmad. My group was hit by an eater attack when I was out collecting supplies. I'm all that's left."
"Joel Dixon," I muttered quickly. "We ain't got time for introductions though, let's get in the van!"
"Believe me, I'll pull my weight," Ahmad promised.
We all rushed back into the van, Daryl taking his time though. There weren't any around, so he felt comfortable enough.
"Always gotta play the hero, don't you?" Merle challenged me as I climbed into the driver's seat.
"Shut up, Merle, it cost us nothin'," I retorted.
"What about them bullets, huh?" he challenged. "Lucky everyone's walkin' away unharmed."
"Could've been safer if you jumped in to help, big brother."
"Or I could've been bit. You never know."
It was always the same thing with him. I turned the van on and continued driving off. And frankly, it would have been a lot different if it was a busty blonde rather than a middle eastern dude.
"There's a lot of them coming from Atlanta," Ahmad warned.
"You sayin' it's lost?" Daryl asked.
"I don't think so," Ahmad speculated. "I think they're doing something with the helicopters to try and draw them where they want them to go."
"So they're pullin' them this way, away from the city," I concluded.
"That's my guess," Ahmad replied. "If you don't mind, I have a suggestion."
"We do mind," Merle snapped.
"Hear the man out," I said.
"We got to hole up somewhere for the night, keep quiet and let them pass," Ahmad explained.
I was glad he didn't attempt to engage with Merle.
"Isn't that a risk?" Mia asked.
"Everythin's a risk these days," I said. "We'll pull of next exit and see if we can find anywhere secure. We're makin' it to Atlanta tomorrow though. Should've been there by now."
I nervously gripped the steering wheel.
"Looks like we ain't gettin' any further anyway," Blake commented.
Ahead, we were faced with another roadblock, cars in the way all over the place.
"Why would someone block the road off?" Mia asked.
"I don't have an answer for you," I replied. "Either protectin' us or protectin' themselves is my only guess."
"What are we supposed to do?" Mike inputted. "There ain't no exit nearby? Just turn around?"
"There ain't no turnin' around either!" I argued. "We're gettin' out and clearin' the thing! It'll just be a few cars out of the way, no?"
I had my sights set on a destination, and we were getting there. Stops along the way were fine, but there was no turning around.
"Joel, I'm sorry, but I don't think that's happening," Ahmad interjected.
He pointed his chubby finger forward, and I squinted to see what his attention was on. Ahead was the herd he was talking about earlier. Hundreds of them squeezing through the spaces between the cars.
"Shit, Joel!" Mike shouted. "What are you waitin' for, turn around! This is lost!"
This sucked. I knew I didn't have a choice though. I began to back out of the space and make the turn.
"Hold on, baby brother," Merle said. "We're all out of luck today."
"What are you talkin' about, Merle, we ain't gettin' by. I ain't gonna die today, nobody is."
"Joel, he's right! Look," Daryl defended him.
I turned around in my seat to see what they were talking about. From behind us as well, another horde was approaching.
"Shit," I cursed, rolling up my window. "Everybody get down!"
I turned the engine off, and ducked in my seat.
"Ain't the windows tinted?" Merle whispered.
"Shh!" Mia cut him off. "I don't know how good their hearing or- or sense of smell is too."
Merle had a point, as much as Mia did as well. I could hear the shuffling of feet and groaning outside of the vehicle, but I wanted to see for myself. I knew the front windows weren't tinted, but the back was, so I crawled my way between the two front seats before kneeling up in the back. Merle, Daryl, and Mia were lying flat in the seats while Ahmad and Mike found their way to the floor. I then glanced through the tinted window.
Things were not looking good.
The two hordes had met each other in the middle, and now were trying to figure out which way they would go next somehow, lingering all around us. I didn't understand it. Why did they all congregate and share a common direction? For mindless creatures, there was some strong system in place of how they operated. Maybe the noises of one eater would attract the next and so on and so forth. That's the only thing that would have made sense.
I had never seen them up so close without being in danger. It seemed that they weren't sensing me at all. I could see how hauntingly lifeless they truly were, how hollow the eyes were. Their yellow teeth snarling in every direction, trying to search for prey.
My biggest fear was that they could detect us by smell, but the van had already been through the mill, so maybe the scent of what was inside would be covered. We were all covered in eater blood anyway.
I didn't know when this would all blow over, so I sunk back down to the floor. I didn't want to risk them seeing me through the clear glass of the windshield window anyway.
Hours and hours had gone by, the sun getting lower in the sky and the van getting dimmer and dimmer. I didn't know if they would ever pass, but something had to draw them away eventually. We just had to keep waiting and keep quiet. Fighting our way out or driving through was not an option here.
I looked around at my companions. Merle had evidently taken something from the med bag and was dozing off, awake but not fully there. Daryl sat with open eyes. I didn't expect him to get anymore relaxed through all of this. I couldn't see Blake from here, but Mia and Mike had fallen asleep. I would need my energy too, and I knew Daryl would stay up and let me know if anything needed my attention. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift off.
Words: 8,282
I'm still somewhat following the survival instinct story line, but some of the things that occurred in the game that should have unfolded in this chapter just wouldn't have made sense with the way I'm writing, so they've been cut out. For example, why would Merle's bicycle gang be this close to Atlanta instead of closer to Blue Ridge? Obviously, the main difference between Survival Instinct and this story other than the presence of Joel is that I'm using real Georgian geography and city names, but the idea of that didn't make too much sense in the game anyway. Daryl is implied to be from Sedalia, given that he knows who Lucky Les is and he was out hunting near there. And in the show, they talk about how much he and Merle were always with each other pre-apocalypse, so wouldn't Merle have lived there too? They take a while to even get to the club where the gang is at, much closer to the end of the game. I'm honestly getting a bit tired going off of the game so much, so I can't wait to reach the end of it, so my writing can be a bit more original until the start of the show. As mentioned earlier, I'm sure the story will break off of the show really quick, I just want to stay true to Rick's introduction. Events though may not happen in the same order which will greatly affect the story line. I can't wait to start introducing Shane, Glenn, etc.
