The Dixon Bloodline

Chapter One

I do NOT own The Walking Dead or any of its characters

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Through all of the struggles Dad and I faced together and all the mistakes he made along the lovely path of raising me, it's easy to say I love him to death, that can never change or be taken from me. The younger Dixon brother that I call my father went through massive amounts of struggle that he never would admit to me - before I came along, and after, though he struggled through it all just for me. I doubt Dad would ever tell me the full extent of what he went through, he didn't open up about much, but even at a young age, I was able to pick up on some things. I knew Grandpa - when he was alive - would beat my father, often lashing him on the back with a belt. Dad never once fought back against Grandpa when the hits were aimed at him, though it was clear Dad could overtake him if he wanted, I wish he had. Grandpa, however, did learn this lesson the hard way, when he lashed me with the belt a few times during my toddler era, I was only two - and when Dad found out, I was simply told - rather vaguely - that he lost it, and snapped at his father. Grandpa did everything in his power after that to act as if I never existed, up until the very day he keeled over.

Dad never told me much about my mother either, a sore subject it seemed for him. I asked once when I was younger and could see how fresh of a wound it was for my dad, even after all the time that had passed. Since then, I dropped the subject, happy to leave it where it was. I had my dad, he was all I needed. When Grandpa did eventually bite the dust, Dad's older brother - one he had barely mentioned, and seemed to have some rough patches with - showed back up in town with his bags. He soon moved into Grandpa's old room, and I was properly introduced to my Uncle Merle. Merle had supposedly left town to join one of the branches of the military. I was probably told at the time, but being younger, I didn't remember or lock onto what branch he had joined. I didn't mind having my Uncle back at first, having some good and fond memories with him, but soon his bad days tended to reign over the good ones. Thinking back on it now, it was most likely due to his crippling drug addiction, but again, I couldn't have known that due to my age.

Merle then began helping Dad out occasionally in raising me over the years, that was when he was sober enough to do so. Both took me out on separate different occasions to learn the skills of hunting, shooting, tracking, fishing, baiting, traps, foraging, climbing, some basic medical practices, and other survival skills. Basic things to get you through a few days of being lost in the woods, which could be a chance given our small shack in the woodlands. We often hunted and foraged for the main platters of our meals, and I tended to frequent those trips where anything could happen. I was soon gifted a compound bow, a quiver, and quite a few arrows to go with it as a present from my father for my seventh birthday. The compound bow was my mother's, information I learned from my uncle, as my father refused to talk about it. Supposedly my mother was on the archery team in high school and was considered quite a good shot, though when she dropped out she walked away from the sport entirely. The bow wasn't the only weapon I knew how to use, though it was my favorite silent weapon I could use at a distance. I also knew how to use my father's crossbow and had a hunting knife of my own.

When the dead began walking it was a whole panicked mess, and after struggling for a while we had run into a small group of survivors. Uncle Merle might have wanted to rob the group, but I think Dad wanted to keep me safe and the possibility of getting some normality with other kids and adults around was enough for him to refuse that option. We ended up joining them in setting up camp, the quarry being far away enough from the shambling dead for the moment at the least. Merle ended up heading into Atlanta with a few other members of the group, heading on a supply run to try and get some food and other resources from the bombed city. And with Merle gone, Dad told me to stay in camp while he headed off on a small hunting trip, leading to the present time and not the last few hectic years. I would have asked to go with him, though I knew Dad didn't tend to like large groups of strangers and was dealing with them for me. I didn't like the thought of him going out on his own with the possibility of him getting attacked, but Dad was able to take care of himself and my feelings or opinions wouldn't change his mind.