Surviving Together: A Daryl Dixon Self Insert Fanfic

Chapter 1: Invisible String

When I moved to Georgia, I didn't expect to be living in Hell. I moved under the impression that I could reinvent myself amongst the peach trees and the southern hospitality. Instead I'm cowering in my van with my dogs, listening to the sound of the end of the world- the sound of the walking dead.

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I shouldn't have made so much noise. I thought we were safe out in the woods, but each day that goes by is a harsh reminder that nowhere is safe- nowhere. I'm out of breath from running, but my two dogs and I managed to make it to the van without being eaten alive. The only thing is, now the van is surrounded by the dead. The dogs, a five year old husky and his German shepherd little brother, are perfectly still and I try to mimic their silence. The windows are shrouded by curtains that I'm glad I hung yesterday. Maybe if we're quiet, they'll go away? I'm at least hoping that's the case. I'm still trying to learn the rules for these freaks.

Hours pass as I lie low, but the dead persist, their relentless scratching becoming almost rhythmic. Amidst the chorus of frogs and rustling leaves, their dreadful moans are all I can focus on. After a while, the scratching seems to lessen, but there's still at least 5 of them surrounding the van. I'm too tired to care anymore- I'm not going anywhere soon and neither are they, so I finally close my eyes to attempt at least a nap. The peace is fleeting, lasting all of 3 minutes before I can't take it anymore. I fling my eyes open. I guess we'll be here all night.

I sit for what feels like several more hours, thinking about what to do if these freaks aren't gone by morning. I'm about to start forming Plan F, when I feel the dogs start to perk up. I wouldn't pay much attention, if it weren't for their ears frantically swiveling like little satellites. They hear something, and it's not anything dead.

I sit up as much as I can, and try to peek through the corner of the window. About 30 feet away I see two figures hiding behind a couple trees. I watch as they stealthily bob and weave closer- one with a gun, the other with a crossbow. This could either be really bad, or my saving grace. The dogs get restless as the gun shots start to sound. They're being so good, so quiet, but I can feel the anxiety rising up in them.

More gunshots and a few arrows later, the dead are all...well...dead. I quietly grab a rifle I keep under the passenger seat, anticipating the worst. I can hear them now that the freaks aren't making noise. Those figures turn out to be two men- great. I prop the gun against my shoulder and listen as they start to argue.

"Who the hell cares? Let's move on." the shorter one with the crossbow says. "That damn van has somethin' in it. Why else would they be around it like that?" the second man bites back. I freeze. I did not like his tone- this is not going to be good. "The sons a'bitches are stupid. There's nothin' in there." the first man hurls back. I can't make out what the taller one replies, but whatever it was, it irritates his friend. The shorter one stomps over to the truck and I tense with fear and anticipation. Mumbling curses the whole way, he reaches the van and the dogs get into position, waiting for my command. The man puts his hand on the door handle and I place my finger firmly on the trigger. I take a deep breath in and the man rips the door open.

We both freeze, crossbow and rifle pointed at each other. He looks a little surprised, so I'm not sure he really expected to see anything, or anyone, in here- much less two big dogs. The dogs don't growl, which is unusual for them, but their bodies are still stiff with anticipation in case I give the signal to attack.

The man and I just look at each other. I can't read his expression, but he's not making any other move towards me, so I don't make any towards him. An unexpected stillness settles between us. The longer this goes on, the more I'm able to take him in and, quite frankly, he's gorgeous. Not like, Hemsworth brother gorgeous, but like, random stranger you cross paths with at a gas station gorgeous. Hot enough that it momentarily erases the danger I felt before. His eyes, a piercing blue, betray no malice. Men usually trigger some sort of fight or flight response from me, but not this one. I have no idea what makes me feel this way, but he seems...safe? He keeps staring deep into my eyes and I'm ensnared. Silently, he puts one finger to his lips, signaling for me to stay quiet. His steely blue eyes look me and the dogs up and down and he slowly lowers his crossbow. The way he's looking at me is so soft, so gentle. I can't tell what he's thinking, but against my better judgment, I lower my rifle. He looks so deep into my eyes I forget where I am, until, that is, I hear his friend yell "You find anything? What's in there?". I wait for the man to sell me out, but he doesn't. "Nah. Nothin' in here. Just a few empty beer cans" he calls out in the raspiest voice I've ever heard. I swear I even see him smirk a little as he closes the door and joins his friend. I watch out the window in disbelief as he fades into the night. After they're gone, it takes me until almost daybreak to settle back down. My mind races, and I can't stop thinking about it.