How to Survive || Daryl Dixon x Reader

Chapter 1

The beginning of The End came without warning. People had talked about something like this happening—a catastrophic event that would push mankind to extinction, like the dinosaurs. Of course, something like nuclear warfare or a devastating meteor were what people expected, something quick that would immediately wipe out the entire world's population. What we got was completely different and much worse.

"What are you thinking about?"

A man's voice jolted you from your thoughts. Wallace, a childhood friend who was long overdue for a shave, a haircut, and a shower, peered over at you from his sleeping bag. His older brother Julian sat cross-legged next to him, slicing open a can of dog food with his pocket knife. You paused for a moment before flashing him a smile. "Wishing we could have found food meant for people," you retorted.

Julian looked up from the can for a moment, shaking his head at you. "What, you don't like my cooking?"

You rolled your eyes and joined them by the lantern. "I don't think you can consider it cooking. All you do is open cans," you responded, accepting a considerable portion of the slop on a piece of cardboard. Scooping it up with your fingers, you brought the dog food to your mouth and let out a sigh. "It actually doesn't taste that bad when you're hungry."

"Or maybe it's because it was prepared by a true chef," Julian quipped. You and Wallace laughed, making eye contact for a moment too long before you felt awkward and dropped your stare. You had dated him in high school for a brief time before The End happened, and it was relatively awkward and short-lived. Though you realized quickly you had no romantic attraction towards him, he always had some feelings for you. When you became the only female in his life, the feelings suddenly had no distraction... unfortunately for you both.

"I'm gonna step outside," you said, standing up and shoving your knife in the pocket of your coat.

"I'll come with you," Wallace offered, beginning to get up. You shot him a look and Julian grabbed his arm. He sat back down.

You closed the door behind you and looked towards the house nearby with a heavy sigh. There were four, maybe five Monsters inside the house and your small group had only recently had your guns taken by another group and therefore had no safe way of clearing them out. Instead, you took refuge in the late family's tool shed, a small but sturdy structure about ten by ten feet. After pushing all the tools and the lawn mower out, it provided a relatively roomy space for your group to sleep comfortably for the time being.

You begin walking the path that wound around the house to the backyard, kicking rocks. The air was frigid and your thin, ragged coat did little to protect you from the sharp wind. You shuddered and wrapped your arms around yourself as you walked. As you make it into the backyard, you see the family had a two-car garage, something you didn't notice before. "Please have weapons, guns, food... a working car? With heat?" you muttered. Stepping onto the concrete driveway, you tried the door on the side. Of course. Locked. "Well, here goes nothing," you said, wrapping your fingers around the ice-cold handle of the garage door and attempting to lift it at least high enough for you to crawl under easily. Even with a significant amount of effort, it only lifted a good foot or two off the ground and then wouldn't budge. You bent down and peer under the door into the dark manage to make out what appears to be a car. You rapped on the door a couple times to awake anything that might possibly be hiding inside. Nothing.

"Sweet," you whispered to yourself. You wiggled underneath the door and looked around once again. The garage reeked of your typical garage smells—gasoline, spray paint, rust—but nothing appeared to be out of the norm. Deciding it was all clear, you stepped towards a table that was pushed against the back wall. It appeared to be crafted by someone with little to no woodworking experience, probably a member of the household; a large piece of plywood rested on two folding sawhorses. It did its job well, however, holding up a large toolbox, a drill set, and various other clutter. You sifted through the mess, finding nothing of use.

You then made your way to the car. You were unsure of the exact model, but judging by the logo on the front and the chipped red exterior, it appeared to be an older Mercury model, possibly made in the late 90s. The windows were all rolled down halfway for whatever reason, but the doors were locked. You peered inside the car and to your relief there were still no Monsters in sight. You reached your arm in and unlocked the car, climbing in. As you sat in the driver's seat, you noticed two things: the keys in the ignition and the horrible smell. You reached to turn the keys but found them already turned to the "on" position. It was then that your heart sunk and you took one last look in the back seat. It was then that you noticed the struggling corpse, buckled down with the seatbelts. You let out a gasp and reached for your knife but found nothing except a considerably large hole in the pocket as the Monster managed to pull against the seatbelts and lunge towards you.

You could have jumped out of the car.

You could have shut the car door, closed the garage, and escaped.

You didn't do anything like that. Like a deer in the headlights, you froze. And then you screamed.