The Last Dixon

ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ

(A/N: I'm aware that Merle's truck is a two-seater and only has the front two seats, but for the sake of the story, no it doesn't❤️)

For as long as Ellie could remember, she hated being alone. Her brother had a tendency to never let her be alone when she was little, so she always just assumed that her hate for it came from him. He liked to act as if he was fine when he was alone but... she saw it. Underneath the brooding, headstrong, and sometimes scary exterior, he was just like her. 

Ellie was allowing her mind to obsess over how Daryl was almost forced to be alone. If Merle hadn't shown up when he did, she was sure that she'd be in a shallow grave right beside her father, leaving her brother alone with her other older, annoying, selfish, asshole of a brother. She loved Merle, she really did, but that didn't mean she didn't have her opinions about him.

"We'll stop up here. See if we can find somethin'." Merle spoke up over the sound of the old engine and wind whipping through the open windows of the truck. Daryl simply nodded his head while, Ellie—the youngest of the Dixons—was letting the wind flow through her brown hair absentmindedly as she watched the trees pass by, creating more and more distance between them and their old home. Although it wasn't really a place she would've liked to call home, that's what it was for the most part.

They heard Atlanta was going to have a safe place for people to go to, where the infected couldn't get them. At first, the news described them as incidents and riots. The simple thought almost made Ellie laugh at their stupidity. Riots causing people to rise from the dead and eat human flesh? There must've been something seriously wrong for them to be that angry to rise from the dead. The broadcast stations stopped broadcasting after a few days, instead, there was a voice recording telling them to stand by but eventually, that went out too. Although hope seemed lost, the Dixons decided to check it out anyway.

Merle looked through the rear-view mirror to see Ellie staring tiredly out the window. He understood how exhausting all of this was. How mentally tiring it all was. Before he got there, Daryl and Ellie witnessed the disembowelment of their own father. While he wasn't winning any "Father Of The Year" awards, he was still their dad, and it was still a damn disturbing sight.

The old 1973 Ford F-250 had carried them a few hours before the gas began to get low. The smell of the gas almost comforted Ellie, and the sound of its loud engine was like music to her ears. Merle never understood why his siblings were so quiet, while he was one of the most outspoken people the world has ever seen. Granted Ellie was their half-sibling, but they'd never look at her that way. She had Dixon blood running through her veins, and she was raised by Dixons, therefore she lived a Dixon, so she'll die a Dixon. Daryl, though, understood. He understood that the loudmouth gene just wasn't passed on to Ellie and himself. Not only that but Merle spoke enough for the three of them.

As the siblings approached the small-town gas station, they saw cars surrounding the place, and a sign with big bold letters reading "NO GAS".

"I'll siphon up some fuel," Daryl said as he opened up the old door. Ellie opened her own, wincing when it squeaked in protest. The dead ones tend to come at any sound or scent indicating anything alive was nearby. She made sure her Bowie knife was safely strapped around her thigh before slamming the door of the truck shut.

"I'll check the stores, they oughtta have somethin' useful," Ellie spoke out to her brothers. They knew she was capable of handling herself, but that didn't stop the worry. These things didn't care what you were or who you were. If you had a pulse, you were food. They also didn't get tired like normal people, they were relentless and ruthless. Ellie couldn't just sit back and let her brothers do everything, she couldn't let their father be right about her.