Just Hold On - Daryl Dixon (TWD)

1.

*Lucia's POV*

"Stay inside. Do not approach anyone who looks infected. Whatever this is, we don't understand it yet, but it is not to be messed with. Do not get bit or scratched. That is how... - whatever this thing is - that is how it spreads. The bite will kill you. The only way to stop you from turning into one of those things is a headshot. ALWAYS the head. Nothing else will kill them. They just keep coming. They won't stop.... They just keep coming. They... just kept coming..." The news reporter trailed off into a whisper and got a distant look in his eye as he pulled a gun out from behind him. Terrified whispers could be heard from the camera crew as they tried to get him to put the gun away.

In a small voice, the news reporter started to speak once more. Barely audible, but it was enough. "They killed my family. I ran ahead to get the car started but my wife and daughter got grabbed from behind. I watched as it killed my wife and my baby girl. I'm so sorry my angels. Daddy will be with you soon."

The man held the Ruger LCP .380 in his hand and with a final "I'm so sorry," he put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Blood and brain matter splattered across the window behind the man as the bullet shot through his head. The thick red substance dripped down the window as screams from the crew came over the TV.

I gasped as I took in what had just happened. When reports just started coming in about this virus, I overlooked it. It wasn't in the States so why did I need to worry myself with problems that don't concern me? But my younger sister Lillian, a pathologist at the CDC told me I should be more concerned. After a week of her hounding me with facts and statistics, I started to believe that maybe I should worry. Now I definitely am.

I ran around my small city apartment trying to grab all that I needed. I packed my hiking backpack with a couple pairs of jeans, leggings,shirts, and undergarments. One jacket will have to do for now since I need to pack light in order to make room for food and water. I also grabbed a couple of steak knives from the kitchen as I no longer have my gun. Stuffing in as many cans of food as I could, as well as a few water bottles, I was finally ready to go. I ran down the 12 flights of stairs to get to the parking garage where my 2007 Chevrolet Malibu could be found. As I was getting closer, the louder the screams of my panicked neighbors got.

Bursting into the parking garage, I took in the sights before me. People were running and screaming while trying to get into their cars. There were bodies scattered across the cold cement floor laying in pools of blood. A constant sound of low, gravely moans could be heard amongst all of the chaos.

I was pulled out of my thoughts as I felt a hand grab onto my shoulder and drag me to the ground.

I turned to look at who had grabbed me, but as I gazed back, I watched as my older neighbor, John was violently stabbing one of those things in the head.

John is a nice guy. He has been my neighbor for the last 6 years. Him and his wife Kathleen treated Lillian and I as their own children. They never had kids and I don't think they ever wanted them, but Lillian and I were the exceptions.

He was a veteran who served in the Vietnam war. In 1965 when John turned 18 he joined the marines and by 1966, he began serving overseas. Now he had short grey hair and he was no longer as fit as the old pictures of him showed. He had a bit of a beer belly now. He met Kathleen in 1977 after he was in a car accident. She was a nurse here in Atlanta at Grady Memorial Hospital. They got close while he was recovering and the moment he had been released, he asked her on a date. They said it was love at first sight and all they ever wanted was each other.

"Are you okay?" The usually calm elderly man asked in a very panicked voice.

"I'm fine. Where is Kathleen? Are you guys okay?"