The Dixon Brothers: The Beginning of the End

The Dixon Brothers: Beginning of the End (Part 1)

The Dixon Brothers: Beginning of the End (Part 1)

A Walking Dead FanFiction

Mountains of Georgia

Warlock County

Coyote Run Hollow

The orange-red sun had just begun to clear the mountains, indicating it would be another scorching hot day. Buffeted by the mountains and hills the woods stayed cool for the moment. A morning fog lingered in pockets along the ground and a lone figure ghosted among the honeysuckle and oak trees, blending to the fog.

Keen eyes picked out the hint of brown fur among the concealing underbrush. An orange fletch- tipped arrow flew and the rabbit died without even a squeal of pain to shatter the morning air.

Three rabbits, not too bad a haul and it'd be lunch at least. Daryl Dixon walked over to the kill leaned down to pick up the rabbit, the animal still warm to the touch. He fastened it to the rough-hewn rope slung over his shoulder and then made his way back to the Dixon house.

Set in a clearing and set against low hills, the hunting shack had belonged to a cousin on his mother's side of the family. It was older, built during the mid 1930's with old tin mechanic and alcohol signs from the period decorating the interior. With a large room flanked by two smaller rooms the shack served the purpose and that was enough for the brothers.

Merle kept a collection of newspaper and magazine clippings on policemen and women that had been hurt or killed in the line of duty, tacking them up with nails on what he called the Wall of Shame. Most were yellowed and had been there for several years, but Daryl noticed one of the clippings was new.

He yanked the page in question from the clapboard and skimmed the article...Kings County...deputy sheriffs called to a high speed chase...shot...remained in a coma...Daryl snorted and shook his head in disgust.

"Got hisself shot up. Dumb bastard shouldn't have walked out in the open."

He let the page fall to the floor where it landed among an assortment of beer cans, jerky wrappers and other trash.

The Dixon brothers had raided a liquor depot late last night, making off with bottles of bourbon rattling around in the back of Daryl's truck; it was the good stuff, not that cheap shit. They'd both been drunk at the time - though Merle was always bragging he could hold his liquor better than "Darlina" - and Daryl had a hazy recall that his brother had lifted a paper from the store along with the booze.

Big Brother wanted to use some of the haul to sweet talk Abe 'Mac' McQuinn, the county meth dealer that he worked for as a dealer. Merle wanted a larger area to work and a better cut of the profits. He'd driven off early that morning, leaving Daryl at the house.

The brothers had kept a good twelve plus bottles for themselves, of course. Daryl grabbed the bottle that he'd been pulling on last night and ripped the cork out with his teeth, spitting it out and across the room. Taking a long swig, he strutted back out on the porch to gut the rabbits.

= = = =

Daryl had started on a second bottle and lounged in a lawn chair on the rickety porch as the rabbits cooked on a spit in the clearing in the scrub grass in front of the porch.