Daughter of a Dixon ✔️

01: The Beginning

When I woke up that morning, I already knew something was very, very wrong.

I wasn't even fully awake yet when I heard the frantic bits of conversation from my uncle and dad. Their footsteps were echoing across our wooden floors; it sounded like they were running from room-to-room. 

When I had fully woken up, I was quick to jolt from the couch where I slept, looking around with wide eyes. I didn't know what was going on, and I was frightened of the possibilities. I hopped off the couch after a moment, looking around warily.

Suddenly, my dad and Uncle Merle ran into the room with bags slung over their shoulders. I furrowed my eyebrows at their panicked expressions as they ran around the house, gathering random items and shoving them into their duffel bags.

When Dad eventually noticed that I was awake, he rushed over and slammed a small, but still heavy, duffel bag in my arms. "Go to the truck, we'll be comin' right behind ya."

"Why, what's hap-..."

"Go now, Sidney!"

The tone in his voice told me that it wasn't the time for questions, and so I obediently did as I was instructed. I slung the duffel bag over my shoulders and made a beeline for Uncle Merle's truck. I didn't know what was happening, maybe some natural disaster, or maybe some people were after us (it wouldn't be the first time), but I knew whatever it was, was serious. I don't think I had ever seen my dad look so worried before then.

Moments after I had gotten in the back seat of the truck, the passenger's side was thrown open by Dad. He hopped inside, panting, as he slung his duffel bag in the back seat. Uncle Merle then got in the driver's seat, and threw his duffel bag into Dad's lap.

He started the truck in a frenzy, and took off like a madman down the road. It was strange, the road was almost abandoned; there were no cars, no people, and almost no life whatsoever. To me, nothing seemed wrong, but I knew that couldn't be true just based on the way Uncle Merle and Dad were acting.

We drove for awhile before Dad spoke, not being able to keep quiet any longer. Usually, he was the one driving and in control of where we going. Sadly, most of the time Uncle Merle was too "out of it," as Dad always called it, to do anything.

"Where we headin', Merle?" Dad asked after a few minutes into the drive. He folded out a map in his lap, shoving Uncle Merle's duffel bag onto the floorboard of the truck.

"Wanna try for the city?" Uncle Merle asked, not taking his eyes off the road for one second. That was the most focused I had ever seen him when it came to driving; he was usually carefree and reckless, when he did drive, that was.

"... Maybe that ain't the best idea, Merle," Dad advised slowly, pointing to something out of the front window.

I followed his finger, as did Uncle Merle, and my face fell when I saw what he was pointing at.

Growing closer to us by the second was the great city of Atlanta, although something was very wrong about it. Instead of the bustling, rushing cars that normally occupied the freeway, there was a line of still, abandoned cars that must've stretched for miles. As I looked further into the city, I saw that the buildings didn't look right, either. Instead of their normal gray, and sometimes light blue, color, every building in the city was stained a shade of pitch black.