Ole Merle knew what he wanted. When the world went to hell he was hunting down one of his stashes to fuck himself stupid. He was more than halfway there and wanted to take it that one step further. With his mind conjuring up images that would prove horrifically true later in the end days. Grinning madly, he was finally to his hidey hole.
Only thing he found was his father in the derelict cabin outside of their shit town. Crushed under the weight of a large weapons safe the younger Dixon men kept, the old man was already dead. The cause of said death rather obvious by all of the weight of the safe and the pills scattered around him and stained in his blood. Growls could be heard from the undead old man as he reached for his son's leg.
Ole Merle just stood there and laughed. "I knew'd ya die sooner or later, fucker."
Laughter still rumbling in his chest, Merle stumbled further into what could barely be called a cabin, taking a moment to deliberately step on his undead father's hand. Laughing harder when the bones crunched. Yet the undead body kept reaching for him.
Merle knew the world's gone to shit. He didn't care. As long as he had his stash and his brother, all was right in his world. Stepping out from the cabin he stumbled into the yard behind it. Leaning against a broken down truck, he ripped open a bag and grabbed the man kindest to him, good 'ol Jack Daniels.