Chapter 5

The tiny bell that had been hanging on the storefront door jingled as I walked through the entrance and into the quaint shop. There was a husky man standing behind the counter. "Excuse me." I said.

He shushed me by waving a hand in my direction, paying me little attention as his eyes stayed fixed on the television he had mounted on the wall. It was a news broadcast. The mousy girl on camera clung to her microphone nervously as she told the story with worried eyes and a shaky voice.

"Atlanta police have discovered victims who have been pronounced dead from what appears to be an animal attack that took place within our city limits. Victims were found with multiple bite marks to their neck, chest, and arm areas." The shop owner looked away momentarily so that our eyes locked and he gave me a knowing look. "One victim has been rushed to the hospital where they will undergo emergency surgery, while the other two victims were pronounced D.O.A."

There was stirring in the background of the broadcast. A woman screamed while others uttered shock-filled words under their breath. "It's alive!" Someone yelled. It was a partial question, and a partial plea.

"Turn that camera off!" Someone else shouted angrily. "We don't need a public panic!" Then there were gunshots. Lots of them. The camera kept rolling.

Then I saw it. It was the same bastard that had killed David. At least it looked the same. A lump caught in my throat as I saw it, one of those creatures for the first time in actual lighting. I had to remember how to breathe when I saw just how human-like it actually looked.

The shop owner covered his mouth with a shaking hand. "Holy shit." Our eyes met again before we both looked back to the television. The thing walked towards the cops, taking bullet after bullet to the chest and grabbing for any human flesh they could get their hands, and mouths, on. The second victim got up off the ground casually, the same way the first one had. Like they were still human and they had a right to be walking the streets of Atlanta. But they weren't human.

I jumped this time when I heard the bell ring on the shop door. My eyes darted to the front of the shop . A man walked in with his head held high, scoping out the place. Whether it was confidence or arrogance I wasn't sure.

The shop owner and I both watched as the man ran his fingers through his greasy hair and gave a disapproving chuckle, shaking his head.

"You've gotta be kiddin' me." The man smirked towards us. "The damn apocalypse is happenin' outside and y'all are sittin' 'round watchin' the news?" He turned back towards the door and grabbed the open sign that was hanging on the handle, flipping it over to 'closed' and locking the door. "Lock the damn door would ya? You want people beatin' down the place?"

"This could be good for business, ya know?" The man behind the counter said. His voice was still shaky, but he forced a smile anyway.

"You're money don't mean shit no more." He walked towards us, looking me up and down before giving me a smile. "What, you don' talk?" He flicked the bill of my hat, making me take a step back. "I would'a thought a college girl would know some proper English."

"What do you want Daryl?" The shop owner had finally composed himself enough so that he could speak without having a waver in his words.

"Guns." Daryl said seriously. With him having an identity I didn't feel so intimidated by him anymore. "Give me ever'thing you've got."

"You know you've gotta wait the ten days for your background check." The shop owner nodded towards Daryl who looked at me as if to see if I was buying how ridiculous the guy sounded. I shrugged in response.

"Look man." Daryl took another step towards the guy, who took a half-step back. "In ten days your shop will already be closed down, all these here Glocks and whatever other girly shit you've got in th' back will be gone. People will panic and break into two places." He held up two bony fingers for emphasis. "The bank, which won't do anybody no good when they're dead. And the gun shop, so that they have a chance of not gettin' dead."

"What are you sayin'?" The owner asked, eying us both and probably wondering if we were together and had planned this whole thing.

"I'm sayin' that you're gonna give me whatever guns and ammo I want." Daryl painted a sly, devilish grin on his face. "Or I'll kill ya." He reached for the belt of his pants, letting his hand linger there and leaving everyone else in the room curious but nervous. Neither of us dared to look, for the chance that he could have a gun waiting there for him.

"You don't have the balls Daryl Dixon." The owner gave him a smug grin. "With your criminal history, killin' me would lock you up for life."

"You think the cops are gon' be worried 'bout me when they've got god-damned dead people walkin' 'round their streets?" He chuckled. "Sorry old friend." In an instant Daryl lunged across the counter and knocked the owner out with one punch. He fell to the ground with a thud. I looked back to Daryl with fear and curiosity in my eyes. When our eyes met he had a grin that stretched from one ear to the other. Like knocking that guy out had given him pleasure. An adrenaline rush that he couldn't refuse. "What d'ya say blondie? Wanna go shoppin'?"