For The Love Of Dixon (A Daryl Dixon Love Story) (WATTY AWARDS 2013)

Chapter 32

My bold and italics are back!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! Anyway thanks so much for all the comments much appreciated! Over 15,000 reads!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Y'all are awesome!! On to the chapter!!

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Sophia was now settled in her own room right across the hall from ours. I was sitting on my bed looking down at the scrapbook from my graduation party. I ran my hand slowly over my favorite photo of Daryl and me. I sighed and closed the book gently.

There was a lot I missed about us being together back in the day but there were a lot of things that I didn't miss. The fights were the worst. Sometimes Merle would sit back and just egg both of us on, Daryl more than me. Both of us then would yell at Merle but of course Daryl would stick up for him.

I sighed again and shook my head lightly. I don't know why I started thinking about this. Maybe taking care of Sophia was bringing back memories. Memories I didn't want to remember. I started thinking about a lot of different things while sitting in my room by myself.

People were up and walking around. Correction, dead people were up and walking around. They were eating anything with blood running through their veins and a heartbeat. I didn't believe it when I first heard about it. I thought it was just some small sickness going around.

The day though that Logan came busting down my door changed my mind completely. He started throwing bags at me and telling me to pack my shit. I asked him about Mom and Dad but he didn't answer and ran back down stairs. I quickly packed as many clothes as possible.

I threw my bags over my shoulders and ran down stairs. Logan was running around the kitchen like a mad man packing a bunch of canned foods and other food that didn't spoil. I placed my bags on the counter and helped him pack the rest of the food.

"Where are we gonna go?" I asked him breaking the silence. He slung the heavier bags over his shoulders while I threw my bags over my shoulders. Logan made sure all the doors and windows were locked before running into the garage and throwing our bags in the car.

Logan jumped in the driver's seat and I jumped into the passengers. He messed with the radio as he tried to find a working station. Finally a voice crackled in the speakers. "Please don't panic. Everyone stay calm. Make your way to Atlanta. Refugee centers are set up for everyone." Everything ended up being a lie. Atlanta was a bust.

While on our way there people were already turning around and telling everyone to get away from the city. The city was overrun, military were turning people away and military was shooting the living. Logan quickly reversed and started taking back roads, bad idea.

After about three hours of driving we never ran into another person, never found a gas station, or anything that was useful. I sighed and propped my feet up on the dashboard. "Do you even know where we are?" I asked him. Logan didn't say anything.

I smacked the dashboard a little. "Damn it, Logan. Say something," Logan growled. "Shut up," he said. I glared over at him. I couldn't believe he was talking to me like this. "Watch it! I am older than you," I said. Logan rolled his eyes and continued to drive.

There wasn't anywhere safe. There wasn't any refugee center. Atlanta was a bust. Military obviously wasn't helping any. Logan and I didn't have any weapons except for a couple knives. Mine being a small flimsy pocket knife that I knew would break easily.

The car started to slow. "Why are we stopping?" I asked Logan looking over at him. Logan's hand slammed on the steering wheel. "Damn it! We're out of gas!" he said hit the wheel against. I let out a aggravated sigh. "You've got to be kidding me."