Unexpected Love | Daryl Dixon Fanfic

Chapter 4 - The Big City

The sound of loud banging startled me awake. It was now light outside. I could now properly see the carnage of the evacuation. Buildings were reduced to rubble, blood was splattered across the road and trailed across the cars to my left. I soon turned my attention to the culprit making the noise. I could now hear the groans coming from outside. One singular body was bashing into the left side of the car.

Thankfully, this car came with me from the UK and was right hand drive, so I was able to slip out of the driver's door and creep round the back with my pistol. Within no time at all, the body was now lifeless, as it was supposed to be, with a bullet in the brain. I'd concluded at the hospital that the only way to kill these things was with a head shot. 

After doing a quick check around me, seeing no imminent threat, I opened the trunk of the car.

I removed my duffel bag and suitcase, then lifted the compartment to the spare wheel. This car was my pride and joy, I had modified it in a way that it would be fun for me but also useful for work. A huge smile spread across my face as instead of setting my eyes on a space saver, it housed multiple boxes of assorted bullets, four throwing knifes, eight grenades, two spare Glock 17's, my trusty M4A1 assault rifle and a broken down L115A3 long range sniper rifle.

Pulling the M4A1 out of its compartment, I attached the shoulder strap. I checked the magazine was full and readied it for combat, slinging it over my shoulder. I grabbed the throwing knives, carefully sheathing them into the correct places in my thigh holsters. Placing everything back in the car, I shut the trunk. It was around midday now. It was fair to say I must've needed my beauty sleep.

Psyching myself for what was to come, I reached into the glovebox, rolled myself a cigarette and sat on the hood of the car. I went for my lighter but sighed when I remembered I'd lost it. "What does it take to get a sexy redneck around here?" I mumbled.

I wandered around the side of the car. I had my fingers, toes and legs crossed, hoping and praying that this guy I had just killed was a smoker in a past life. Rummaging through the pockets, I was relieved to pull out a silver Zippo lighter. Sparking my rollup, I took a few deep drags. I had never smoked in the car, but in this moment, I thought fuck it! With my cigarette in between my lips, I stalked around to the door, swung it open and jumped in. Rolling down the windows and starting the engine, I set off towards the city streets.

I drove slow and steady, making sure to make as little noise as possible which was nearly impossible with my loud exhaust. About 15 minutes from the center of the city, I could see a white box van speeding towards me. It didn't slow or stop, just hurtled past me at speed. My first thought was it could be my brother and I squeezed the brakes. I turned to look out the back window to see if it would come to a halt, but it only gained speed. If that was Rick he would recognize the car, right?

I was at odds with myself again. Do I follow the truck or keep on going? If somebody was fleeing from this city like that, it doesn't scream 'good time' to me. In my experience, that translates as 'quick death'.

I rubbed my eyes harshly before carrying on. This might be the stupidest thing I'd ever done, which only adds to a long list, but I'd do anything for my family. Plus, I wasn't exactly easy to kill. I was in my element, this is the kind of thing I had been trained for.

The remaining buildings were now towering above me. It was an ominous feeling. Atlanta was usually a bustling city, filled with people and noise. Now there was nothing, just silence. As I rounded a corner, I could see four figures standing in the middle of the road. As I approached, I could see that they weren't dead men walking, instead they were alive. Alive, breathing and clad with various weapons. Great.

I stopped the car a way away, opened the door slowly and poked my M4A1 between the car and the door. Staring into the scope, my breath hitched when I noticed one of the men running towards me. He was dressed in his full sheriff's uniform, not forgetting the hat, dropping a heavy duffel to the floor with tears streaming down his face. Before my brain could process it, my legs were pumping. "Oh my god!" I shouted.