Survival Instinct
Chapter 2: Atlanta Fell
Tristan glared at him, as he slammed on the brakes and she lurched forward. He sent her a small smile in apology, before leaning out of the window to shout at his older brother. She chuckled at their antics, as the brother sent them his middle finger in reply as he climbed off his bike. He approached the truck, his eyes darting around.
"Let's hole up there for the night," he told them, as he stood on Daryl's side of the truck. He pointed at the house behind him, with a nod. Daryl grunted in response, and got out, grabbing his crossbow from the truck bed.
"We'll clear it out, then come back for ya," Daryl said, looking at Tristan, before following his brother to the house.
She sighed, rolling her eyes. They had been on the road for a few days now, and most areas they came across were wrecked. Completely destroyed by the world collapsing around them. But the Dixon brothers hadn't allowed her to assist them in anyway. If they raided a place, it was both of them. If they were clearing a place out for the night, it was both of them. Basically, anything dangerous - the brothers were doing it. Instead, they had her sort out food. Basically, they had been slung back a few centuries. Why hadn't she received the memo?
The truck door opened, and Daryl's face popped in as he grabbed his backpack. Their eyes met, and he gave her one nod before going to the truck bed. Tristan followed, getting out and grabbing her backpack. She slung it over her shoulder and then grabbed the food bag before following the brother inside. Merle was in the process of locking all the windows and doors, and Daryl was moving around him to get the curtains set up. The dead were attracted to light, sound and smell. Which didn't work well in their favor, honestly. Tristan set down the two bags and started going through their inventory for food.
"We have enough to get us through maybe three more days," she informed the men, looking up at them. "If Merle stops helping himself, maybe four."
"We will go on another run soon," Daryl nodded, putting his crossbow on the coffee table. All the windows were covered, and a lantern was turned on in the corner giving the room a yellow glow.
Tristan huffed, nodding before handing over the 'meal' to them. Granola bar, beef jerky and a piece of fruit. Daryl had an apple, Merle a banana and Tristan an orange.
"I'll take first watch tonight, lil brother," Merle informed, sitting on the couch near the big window as he tucked into his meal. He had chosen to ignore Tristan's earlier comment about him helping himself.
And that was the last of the conversation for the night. Each of them ate their meals, and Merle sat on watch. Daryl got the sleeping bags sorted, so Merle was closest to the front door, with himself next to the coffee table. Tristan was going to be set up against the wall, where the TV once stood. They had moved that into the kitchen, as they weren't going to be using that area and the living room was small anyway. Tristan had packed away all the food and had removed her weapons from their holsters and sheaths. She had tucked a knife beneath her pillow, and every night she fell asleep with her hand resting on the weapon, and would wake up every morning with her hand in the same place. It wasn't long before they all settled in for the night.
It was days after they found the house, and they were currently holed up in an old motel. The brothers were currently outside, at Daryl's truck, organizing the route to Atlanta. Tristan was sat on the bed, fiddling with her machete as she gently rocked her legs while she waited. The brothers were still hell-bent on protecting her, and not allowing her to help with anything except food. They had stopped at a house, and a small group of dead had appeared overnight. Merle had cursed like a sailor when Daryl woke him up, and they had spent ages working up a route to get back to their vehicles. The Dixon's had cleared a path, for Tristan to run to the truck with the two bags she could carry. Daryl had the third, and Merle was carrying the last two.
From where she was sat, Tristan heard a growl come from the open doorway. The young female whipped around, moving to stand as she came face to face with an undead. Her eyes went wide, as she raised the machete at the advancing monster. It's arms reached out to grab her, it's jaw hanging open, ready to taste her flesh. Tristan let out a small grunt as she swung the machete into the creature's neck, with her free hand pushing back on it's chest. She swung again and the head rolled off it's shoulders and onto the floor, the body falling in a heap at her feet. Her outfit and skin was splattered with blood, as she drove her smaller knife into the skull of the dead and grabbed the last remaining bag, before going out to meet the brothers with a slightly pissed off look.
"What happened?" the younger brother asked, his eyes wide as he took in her appearance.
"Next time you vow to protect me or some bullshit, make sure ya do. I was almost dead meat," she huffed, grabbing a dirty rag and cleaning up her machete and knife.
"Looks like ya can do it yourself, Tris," Merle smirked, patting her on the back.
"Now can I help clear out shit? Or am I still just a tiny princess?" She cocked an eyebrow, sliding the knife into her thigh holster and dropped the machete into the back of the truck, along with the bag.
"Shit, girlie. You can help out as much as you want," Merle promised, while Daryl moved to close up the map and put it away in the truck.
"Atlanta still the go-to?" Tristan asked, looking between the brothers as she pulled her brunette hair into a tight ponytail.
Daryl grunted with a nod, as he threw his crossbow into the back of the truck and climbed into the drivers side. Tristan sent a look to Merle, who was sitting on his bike before moving to get into the truck.
It wasn't till they were driving down a back-road that Daryl finally spoke to Tristan, and it was her turn to grunt in response. Except she was just doing it to annoy him, and wind him up.
"Sorry ya had to kill one," he muttered, glancing at her as he drove. She grunted, looking out of the side window. "Didn't want ya to get hurt." Another grunt. "Care about ya, Tris. Ya like ma only friend now." A snort this time.
"Antony Small was not a friend, Daryl," she looked at him, chuckling softly. "I was always your only friend."
Daryl reached out to poke her stomach, causing her to squirm back up against the door, "Tony was a friend-"
"No," she laughed, shaking her head as she grabbed his hand. "Tony used you for your brother." A shrug followed her statement, and Daryl sent her a confused look. "Your brother sold the hard stuff, quite cheaply too, to his close friends. He thought if he got close to you, he could get close to Merle."
Daryl appeared to muse over this thought for a moment, before letting out a small grunt, "Doesn't change the fact that you had to take on a dead thing by ya self."
Tristan rolled her eyes, "Rather sooner than later."
"Rather never," Daryl curled his lip, shaking his head. "Lost ya innocence now."
"I've spent most of my time with you and Merle, I had no innocence, Dixon."
The younger Dixon snorted, and concentrated on the road once more.
It was getting dark, when they came across a camp near the highway to Atlanta. Merle threw up a signal as he pulled up to the camp, and Daryl parked up next to him.
"Get ya gun, and stay behind us," Daryl told her, before climbing out of the truck.
Tristan followed, and grabbed her gun from her bag before moving to stand behind the brothers. Merle had an assault rifle, and Daryl was armed with his trusty crossbow. Their presence had been noticed by a male with dark hair, and judging by the way he stood, he was law enforcement - of some sort.
"Who are ya and what do ya want?" the male asked, armed with a shotgun himself.
"Heading to Atlanta, wondering why you's are camping out here," Merle replied, attempting to look behind the guy at the camp.
"Atlanta fell," a female said, as she appeared beside the male with a young boy clinging to her leg.
Tristan's shoulders slumped, and she moved to stand slightly behind Daryl with her free hand gently resting on his back so he knew she was there.
"Ain't that a shame. You's know of any place to stay 'round here for the night?"
"No, sorry-"
"Shane, you can't be serious? It's dangerous out there, in the dark."
"We don't know these people."
"Strength in numbers," the female informed the male, Shane.
"Nah, man. We'll get out of your hair, it's fine," Daryl said, reaching out to grab Merle's arm and pull him back.
"You are free to stay if you wish, we have the room," the female spoke to the brothers.
"Merle-" Daryl began to speak, but was cut off by his older brother.
"We'd love ta. I'm Merle, this here is my li'l brother Daryl, and behind him is his gal Tristan."
Tristan went over to Merle, hitting him on the shoulder and sent him a glare. Since they had been introduced, Merle had always called her Daryl's girl. And she knew it was just to wind her up though, but she loved the opportunity to hit him.
"I'm Lori, this is my son Carl, and our friend Shane." The female introduced, smiling softly at the antics of Merle and Tristan.
"How many people are here?" Tristan asked curiously, her soft green eyes meeting Lori's.
"Quite a few. People are coming in from all over the state, see us camping out here, like you guys did and they decide to ask why. Once they hear that Atlanta has fallen, they usually stick around for the night and then never leave."
"How many young'uns?" Merle asked, his eyes trained on the young boy wrapped around Lori's leg. Carl.
"There's a fair few," Shane replied, taking a protective stance in front of Lori. "Will that be a problem?"
"Nah, no problem," Daryl grunted, before going back to his truck and grabbing the bags. Tristan followed him, taking the strap of her bag as she looked at the younger Dixon. "What do ya think?"
"Think it might be good for short-term," Tristan nodded, chewing her lip as her gaze moved to Merle, who was chatting to someone else in the group. Two blonde girls. "But I think Merle may end up screwing us over here."
"Got that right," Daryl huffed, pulling the bag over his shoulder and grabbing another. "You're the friendly one, you go meet everyone tomorrow. Get ya views. Report back. I'll go hunting for some grub, doubt they want to share."
Tristan nodded, shouldering her bag and sliding her gun into it's holster as she watched Merle with the two blondes. The older one pulled an ugly face, before pulling the younger one away from him as they headed to a tent.
"Making friends, Merle?" Tristan called out, laughing softly.
"Always, Tris," he replied as he made his way over and grabbed the large tent. "Guessing you's will want to share a bed-" He was cut off by Tristan beating his arm with a scowl on her face. "I'm joking, I'm joking. Calm down, girlie."