That Redneck (Daryl Dixon love story from The walking dead/TWD)

Chapter 1- Together We Fight

Adrenaline.

That's what pumped through my vein's as I ran from those rotting corpses.

I ran through an old warehouse, storage boxes stacked upon one another in a organized fashion, the high windows dirty from lack of cleaning.

The walls were ugly and brown, made of a steel like fiber and the floor a hard concrete that was very slippery.

I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, ignoring the horrible pain from my chest and the taste of blood in my mouth.

The groans and moans from behind pushed my legs to go faster, trying to avoid whatever fate awaited me from behind.

I ducked down and turned right, towards the exit. I looked down in my hands to make sure I still held the thing that would save my best-friends life.

Sure enough the tiny glass bottle reassured me that this wasn't for nothing.

A new jolt of energy burst through me as I squeezed the tiny bottle. I was almost there just a little longer.

The doors came into view and I was almost in the home stretch. I looked behind me to see the corpses slowing down.

That was odd, they always chased their meal until it was devoured and filled their stomachs.

I pushed my legs faster, I would reach the door anytime now. Sure enough the door swung open as I ran through.

"CLEAR!" I screamed and ducked behind an old storage box. Gun shots rang out as I caught my breath.

The plan had worked, even though I almost died in the process. Most of the corpses were dead now, only a few kept standing.

I quickly unsheathed my two black ninjato swords. I easily disposed of the corpses and I sheathed my weapons.

"That was clumsy, I think you're losing your touch." Jason my adopted brother yelled from on top of the storage boxes.

I rolled my eyes and started to climb the huge boxes. When I got to the top Jason stood their with a frown on his face, his arms crossed.

"Where's Taylor? I need to get this to her." I held out the little glass bottle.

Jason eyes the bottle curiously. "Is that her insulin?"

I nodded and Jason turned around. "TAYLOR!" He screamed.

Taylor popped out of no where and tackled me. "Whoa! I risk my life for you and this is the thanks I get?" I giggled.

She quickly got off and held out her hands greedily. "Gimme!" She yelled childish.

I rolled my eyes and tossed her the bottle. She stared at it with hatred. She hated being diabetic, always has. Now it was just another way for her to die.

"Thanks" she mumbled and took her bag off of her shoulders. She quickly took out a needle and filled it.

I had to look away. I could kill walking dead people but I couldn't take or even look at needles.

Jason came over and slapped my back. "You're such a pussy." He joked.

I shoved him and frowned. "We can't stay up on these storage boxes forever, we need to find a camp or something." I whined, bringing the nagging topic up again for the third time today.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Not this again." He murmured. "I told you if we find a camp there will be more people to take care of, more mouthes to feed."

I scowled at him. "Have you ever asked Taylor what she thinks? Or have you even taken my idea into consideration."

He rolled his eyes at me than turned quickly looking down at Taylor. "I just want what's best for my little sis, isn't that right Tay?" He said innocently.

She stood up quietly. "I think Mariah's right Jay, with more people it would be easier to kill more of those freaks." She interjected, pointed below to the pile of bodies.

Jason scowled at us and walked over to his collection of knives. I rolled my eyes and turned towards Taylor.

"Your brothers such a downer." I complained as she smiled and put her arm over my shoulders.

"He's kept us alive this long, the least we could do is try and behave." She pleaded before she removed her arm and bent down.

She picked up her hand-crafted bow and arrows, she quickly strung it on her back and turned back towards me.

"We should stock up on insulin then, try and convince Jason." She Said.

I nodded, "I'll do the convincing you go find insulin."

She nodded and disappeared into the infested part of the warehouse. We've been living in this old warehouse for maybe a few weeks, since the infection broke out.

Thankfully my parents were war veterans. Taylor and Jason's parents died in combat. They grew up with me, like my siblings. My father trained us all in different styles of combat. I never truly knew why, but I always assumed it wad because he was paranoid. He had trained Taylor in archery, Jason in knife throwing, and me in dual sword wielding. I've been training since I could hold a knife, my "siblings" have been training with me ever since my father adopted them.

Jason snapped me out of my memories by throwing a t-shirt at me. "Where'd Taylor go?" He quickly asked me, narrowing his eyes.

I pointed to the warehouse's double doors and he shook his head. "Come on Mariah, you know she shouldn't go out on her own."

I snorted at him. "You really need to put more faith in your little sister. She could whip your ass in under a minute."

He let out a chuckle and shook his head. "She's diabetic-"

I interrupted him. "She's fine, she just had her dose. Stop acting like a parent and act like her brother!" I scolded.

He shook his head and turned around before he began to rummage through his bag and let out a sigh.

"What?" I said coldly, not really caring about his problems. Jason always managed to find some flaw in all of our plans, or our skills. I suppose it was just the way he was made.

He sighed again. "You're right. We need to leave. We're running out of food."

I smiled a triumphed grin and he didn't meet my eyes. "We'll leave tomorrow and find a new place to loot."

I nodded and turned to my own bag. I had one small hand gun, half a pack of amo, one blanket, a half-full water bottle, and one knife.

I eyed the knife and took it out of my bag. This was the knife my father gave me, his most prized possession. He gave it to me for my twentieth birthday. He had always been an awful gift giver, so when we really began to get skilled in fighting, he began to give us weapons rather than useless clutter that would never be used.

I dug through my bag, my brow furrowed as I searched for my little piece of reassurance. I should have my mothers amulet in here, but I didn't see it.

Where was it?