The Dixon Chronicles

"Then"

(Daryl's POV)

"Shit."

Tonight we would be home free. After traveling from our cabin in the creek and losing Jess and Merle, we made it to Firesign Stadium.

"Walkers! Daryl run!" Harrison yelled.

All this way the stadium that we thought was safe was nothing but another wet dream. I grab my Horton, knapsack, and guts and run through dozens of biters to get to the evacuation pads. It was me Harrison, Blake, Noah, and Mia, but so far I was only with Blake and Mia.

"Damn! I'm on my last mag!" the deputy announced.

I toss Blake my trusty hunting knife.

"Here now go! I'll cover you! You too Mia!" I yell.

Mia barked back "Hell no Hillbilly we stay together!"

As much as I hated the company I guess it was best, but then again that makes us a larger meal.

After running through tent after tent we stumble upon the walker infested grounds of the stadium where less than a dozen choppers littered the starry sky.

"Damn. Where's our ride!?" Blake questioned.

Crap. We're low on ammo and there's a herd of walkers all over the stadium. I start scanning through the horde until I found a slim opening off to the side of the walker parade where tents create a path to a chopper.

"Go there!" I point "I gotchur backs!"

"Good luck Dixon!" Blake shouts.

Back against a tent I check the corner to find about 7 walkers in my way to the helipad with handgun at the ready. I point, I aim. *CLICK*

"Shit." I mutter while tossing the empty Glock.

I peek at the walkers once more. I look down to find a soldier chewed up and spat out. Next to him to my luck a M4A1 assault rifle.

"Poor bastard." I say as I check the magazine for bullets.

"Huh, all full up." I chuckle.

Adrenaline is rushing in my veins and a hint of fear as well.

3..2..1..

I turn the corner and hustle down the path while mowing down walkers left and right.

"Help me!" a man yelled.

I run to the distress call to find Noah getting his throat ripped out by a walker while two more were gnawing at his leg and stomach.

I dash to the horror and kicked Leg-Eater upside the head while capping Stomach and Neck.

Noah lays there in a pool of his own blood. If it were me which it wasn't, I would've been screaming, but couldn't because my jugular would be gone. Poor Noah choking on his own blood.

I aim my rifle at his forehead while he tries mouthing a word. He is attempting to say "please".

"Sorry brother."

*BANG*

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(Harrison's POV)

My hands are covered in dirt and hints of blood. Noah's blood. I could've saved him if I just played attention to our surroundings, then again it's probably his fault for not watching his back. All I remember was him getting bit near his collarbone and his blood spewing out towards my hands which were shielding my face. His last words? "Help me!"