Starting Over...

-KAYLA POV-

I looked back and forth between Daryl and this stranger, now known as Merle, wondering how the hell they could possibly know each other...

"Well, well...." Merle was the first to speak up, his voice raspy as he eyed Daryl up and down, "My baby brother's alive, after all."

Whoa.

Hold the phone.

I whirled around to face Daryl. His expression looked just as baffled as I felt.

"'Baby bother'...?" I repeated softly, as if to clarify with Daryl that this was true.

He glanced at me and nodded, his misty blue eyes intense and piercing... And I suddenly realized why Merle's eyes had looked so familier to me at first... They were just like Daryl's.

They really were brothers...

"C'mon now, aren'tcha gonna give ol' Merle a hug?" Daryl's newly found brother asked him, that same grin forming again under his graying scruff.

Daryl glanced over in my direction again before slowly crossing in front of me and into Merle's brotherly embrace. His stiff body language screamed uncertainty, but after a few seconds he seemed to relax.

"Long time no see, eh, baby brother?" Merle croaked at him, slapping him on the shoulder. "Can't believe yer still kickin'."

"I thought you were dead, man..." Daryl muttered in a husky growl, as if he didn't want me to hear him speak.

Honestly, I was only halfway paying attention to what they were talking about. I was more or less still dealing with the amazement of stumbling upon Merle this way... I mean, what were the chances?

"So, this yer woman?" Merle asked, obviously referring to me, looking me up and down, "Boy, you like 'em young now, huh? Can't say I blame ya, hoo-ee look at the ass on- YOW!"

Daryl had brought his hand swiftly upward, smacking Merle upside the back of his head with the heel of his palm and cut off his crude comments.

He certainly was different than his younger sibling... Loud and outspoken, where as Daryl was reserved and kept to himself, mostly. I could see they shared the same short temper, though.

"Man, shut up...!" Daryl growled through clenched teeth, "She ain't my girl. Just a member'a my group... Still, don't be gettin' any ideas in yer head about 'er, you old perv."

My cheeks burned beet red as I stared at the older Dixon in a mix of disgust, embarassment, and shock. Me, Daryl's "woman"? Seriously...? I don't think so. Not in a million years... But for some reason, the thought was making me blush...

"Yer group, huh." Merle growled, rubbing the back of his head and scowling darkly at Daryl, "You still rollin' with the son've a bitch cop who did this to me?"

Merle held up his bayonette hand, and it glinted in a trail of sunlight peeking down through the top of the revine. My eyes widened as I pictured Rick in his Sheriff's uniform.

Rick... cut off Merle's hand...? When the hell did this happen?!

"You cut off yer own damn hand, Merle." Daryl snapped, sounding like he had said that a few times before.

I guess that answered my question.

My eyes passed back and forth between the two bickering brothers, listening to an argument from one side and then a rebuttle from the other.

"Those assholes chained my god damn hand to a pipe, left me fer the geeks!" Merle snarled, the veins on his neck popping out a bit.

"I told ya before, man, we went back for ya!" Daryl countered, raising his voice and pointing a finger at Merle's chest, "You were already gone!"

"'Cause you bastards were takin' yer sweet ol' time," Merle barked, sneering at his kid brother, "Any longer an' my hand would'a been gnawed off by those fuckin' flesh munchers!"

The way things were flowing so smoothly, I could tell Daryl and Merle had fought this battle before. Their responses and comebacks seemed memorized and rehersed, almost.

"Hey," I said, placing my pistol back in its hulster and raising my hands up to try and break their banter.

I waved my hands around a little, trying to get their attention, but the two grown men kept snipping and snarling at each other like hungry pitbulls ready to go for the throat.

"HEY!" I raised my voice. That got their attention.

Both Dixon brothers halted their words and turned to look at me, the scowling expressions still glued to their faces. Standing so close together like they were, I really could see how similar their body types, expressions, and features were.

I didn't know how I couldn't have noticed it right away.

"What's the point of fighting?" I asked when I was sure I had their attention, "Are you guys happy to see each other or not? Because if you are, hooray! let's visit, it's a family reunion. But if not, Daryl and I have to find a way out of this revine." I paused as the guys glanced at each other, then quickly added, "...Well, I mean we have to find a way out either way, but you know what I'm saying."

There was a pause as each of them seemed to think my question over. Finally, Merle turned to Daryl, holding his arms out.

"Yer call, Dare Bear." He said with a shrug, sounding almost like he was taunting Daryl with the childish nickname, "You happy to see yer ol' flesh an' blood, er what?"

Daryl seemed to think about this for a second, glancing at me for some kind of guidance. I blinked my eyes and shrugged my shoulders.

What did he expect me to say...? I didn't know anything about Merle, except that he was Daryl's brother... So, he couldn't be all that bad, right?

Finally, he sighed, giving into Merle. He agreed to let the past be the past, and try catching up with each other.

When Merle offered to take us on a supply run with him to a hidden little truck stop he'd been scoping out for a few days, not too far from there, Daryl was hesitant, so I let him make the call.

He sighed after a few moments of thought, turning and looking at me.

"Well, I guess our catch did kinda get taken right out from under us earlier..." Daryl mumbled, talking about the squirrels.

And it would suck to go back to the prison empty handed." I agreed with a small shrug, pressing for the option of going with Merle. I was always up for an adventure.

Finally, Daryl reluctantly agreed, and before I knew it, Merle was leading our way in an unexpected quest to a foreign land... Which was really just an old truck stop.

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

Getting to our destination was a bit of a treck, to say the least. Merle had led us through the cravas in the cluster of boulders, which trailed about half a mile underground before popping out from under a dried up riverbed.

From there, the three of us played follow the leader through the thick trees, hopping over fallen, rotted out logs and splashing through puddles left behind by the summer rain. There wasn't a walker in sight the entire way there, which amazed me.

"Here we are, kiddies." Merle announced after about forty-five minutes of hiking, as we emerged from the thick brush. We were now standing on the edge of the parking lot in front of the truck stop.

Weeds sprouted up from the cracks, splits and crumbled areas in the pavement, creating a sort of mosaic of green and gray, and even a little red... Blood.

The parking lot stretched a good fifty or sixty feet, the small group of buildings that made up the truck stop visible in the distance. Cars, vans, trucks and even a few busses crowded the area, parked in crazy, disorganized patterns.

All of them were faded and rusting away in the harsh elements, reduced to a sea of useless metal. The weeds and vines pushing upward from under the asphalt wrapped around the tires of most of the vehicles, busting through the brittle floorboards and beginning to sprout colonies inside the cabs. They covered the seats and wrapped around the steering wheels, snapping the dashboards in some places.

Daryl, Merle and I treaded lightly as we weaved our way through the maze, weapons drawn and ready to fire /strike if necessary. In the process of scanning the parking lot for walkers or threatening humans, I caught sight of a few dried up skeletons scattered about.

Some were still strapped into vehicles, and some were sprawled halfway out of the jarred doors and windows. It was strange to look at them, the only thing defining their gender or age being the size of the bones and the sun bleached clothes that still clung to them.

Merle suddenly stopped in front of me and whipped a pack of cigarettes out from his back pocket with his normal hand, somehow maneuvering a smoke into his lips, along with a lighter to spark it up. He offered Daryl a cigarette, and he silently accepted.

"You smoke, cupcake?" The older, more grizzly Dixon asked me, the freshly lit cigarette bobbing between his aged lips.

He held the rumpled pack out to me, shaking it a little and offering me to take one of the white nicotine filled sticks. I shook my head politely.

"No, thanks," I respectfully declined, "I've got my own."

Merle raised his eyebrows at me,  smirking as I quickly and fluidly drew my pack of L&M Menthols out of my back pocket, grabbed a cigarette, and puffed it into action with my Bic lighter. "And it's 'Kayla', not 'Cupcake'."

"Little Miss Chimney over here," Merle teased, pointing his thumb in my direction as he peered at Daryl, "An' fiesty. Sure she ain't yer type? 'Cause she might be mine."

Merle cackled a raspy, smoke soaked laugh, nudging his brother in the ribs with an elbow.

Daryl just rolled his blue eyes as he exhaled smoke, clamping his cigarette between his lips and loading his crossbow as he prepared to creep around a rusty yellow van.

The windows were all smashed out, So Daryl peered to the other side through the open gap before pointing his bow around the corner. He nodded that it was clear, and we continued on.

The scenery was a mix of eerie and serene. The vehicles all looked distressed and broken, clearly painting a picture of panic and chaos months and months ago... But in the calm quiet of the world, amidst the jungle of lush, overgrown weeds, the scrap metal looked a lot like art.

As we finally got close to the cluster of three buildings that made up the truck stop, I noticed a single butterfly resting ontop of an old, faded green Jeep. As I passed by, the insect fluttered it's pale yellow wings and floated away.

For a second, I thought of Tina... and it brought a small smile to my face. In a way, the butterfly was a symbol of peace to me. Closure... That life goes on.

Finally, the brothers and I made it across the maze of broken down cars, now standing in the middle of three medium sized buildings on a forked sidewalk.

It, too, was the victim of the weeds, cracking and giving way so they could grow taller.

To the right of us was a rectangular building with a slanted roof, labeled RESTROOMS in chipped wooden letters. Green and black mildew covered the corners of the letters and had speckled down the walls over time, staining the grungy paint.

Either side of the hutch was open, one side for men and the other for women. I made a face, just imagining what it had to look like in there... I was so glad we didn't have to go inside.

To the left was a smaller, square building with a sign that said GIFT SHOP. I paused to stare at it for a second as the guys pressed forward to the biggest building, labeled GRAB 'N GO by a large, tilted billboard that seemed to be held up by a single withered nail.

"Hey, I'm gonna check out what's in here." I called out to the guys, my voice sounding abrupt in the still quiet of nature.

They each turned their upper bodies to look at me, and Daryl flashed his eyes over to the Gift Shop. His eyebrows scrunched as he seemed to study the safety and size of the building... I could tell he didn't exactly trust that I could hold my own with no back-up.

"Okay," Daryl finally agreed, "Just please, for the love'a god, watch what yer doin'. An' don't go no where else."

I rolled my eyes at Daryl before turning to walk towards the Gift Shop.

"Jeez, all right, Mr. Bossy," I replied back, "Relax."

With that, I dipped inside the dingy building, ducking under a few loose pieces of plywood nailed across the doorway. As the guys walked away, I could hear Daryl explaining to Merle that I was a "magnet for bad luck" and he didn't want to have to bring my head back to my over protective brother just because I was too curious for my own good... I just rolled my eyes again and brushed it off my shoulder. Typical grouchy Daryl.

I heard Merle laugh, and faintly call me something that sounded like "little firecracker".

Soon, their voices faded too much and I couldn't make out their exact words, so I tuned them out.

The inside of the Gift Shop was dark, dingy and damp. The walls and the floor were covered in dirt, leaves and water stains, giving the small space a strong, musty odor. I actually wasn't bothered too much by the smell... These days, there were way worse.

I listened to the hollow sound of my shoes scuffing on the floor as I strolled past shelves of old ripped up maps and magazines. A rack full of t-shirts looked like it had been thrown across the room, smashing into a glass case full of snowglobes and other knick-knacks. Shards of broken glass were scattered about, crunching under my shoes as I walked.

I found myself behind the check out counter, peering at all the merchandise that was once brand new and neatly organized. There was a row of teddy bears dressed in cute blue t-shirts that said "GA" on the front in yellow, all of them tipped over and askew.

The toys were covered in mold and dust, and some of them were even caked in bloody hand prints.

I mosied to the cash register, which of course had been popped open and drained, probably when this whole mess first started... It was pretty ironic, really. Money was the most important thing not too long ago. It made the world go round.

Now, it didn't mean shit. The best use I could think of for it these days would be using it to fuel a camp fire.

The store was pretty tiny, and I could tell just by a few quick glances that there was really nothing useful there.

But as I made my way around another turned over rack of t-shirts, my shoe crunched against something hard and flat underneath the fabric of a lime green long sleave. I could feel the sensation of glass cracking underneath the rubber soles of my shoes.

I made a face, kicking the fabric away from the object, revealing that it was a picture frame. It was facing the floor, and I let curiosity get the best of me as I crouched down and gingerly lifted it from the broken glass, careful not to cut myself or get any shards stuck in my fingers.

I flipped the brass frame over in my hands, peering at the photo behind the splintered glass. It was a picture of a man with a blonde beard sitting next to a little girl on a park bench, obviously a father and daughter. The long, straight pigtails hanging down in front of the girl's skinny shoulders matched her father's beard, and her smile was missing three teeth; one ontop and two on bottom.

The father had his big, burly arm wrapped around the little girl's midsection, pulling her in close to him and looking like he was making her giggle. His smile was soft and gentle, and both pairs of green eyes twinkled in an identical, joyful way.

I felt a solumn feeling wash over me as I studied the photo. It must have belonged to whoever had worked in the gift shop... Maybe the man's wife, or the little girl's brother or sister...

It was always strange looking at photos of people I didn't know. It didn't happen often, photographs were pretty scarce now adays... But in times like these, they fascinated me.

Sometimes it felt like the people in them were fictional, it was hard to imagine them actually existing... There was always that lingering thought, what if those people had survived, just like we did?

But, I knew that was pretty unlikely.

"Hey, cupcake!"

Merle's voice shouting from the doorway started me, causing me to flinch and lose my grip on the picture frame. It clattered loudly to the floor as I whirled around, meeting those Dixon blue eyes from about 10 feet away.

"We need yer help." Merle told me once my eyes landed on his, "Git out here."

With that being said, he disappeared from the door frame, his heavy footsteps tromping away.

I blinked a few times, a little confused. They actually needed my help?

As I approached the boarded up doorway and ducked through, I could hear Daryl's voice squawking a few yards away in front of the Grab 'N Go.

"Man, this ain't a good idea!" He snapped at Merle, who stood next to him, studying the main entrance. It was blocked off with something heavy... When I got closer, I could clearly see it was a pile of old vending machines.

"Relax, baby brother," Merle tried to hush Daryl in a mellow tone, that michievious grin curving on his lips. "Cupcake over there's a tough gal. She can handle 'erself, cantcha, darlin'?"

I knew Merle wasn't trying to come across as a flirtatious, kind of perverted old man, but he didn't really have to... His little nicknames for me got under my skin.

"It's Kayla." I persistantly reminded him.

"Sorry, sugar, I'm bad with names." He replied back, trying to sound innocent but flashing me a wink at the same time.

I did my best to ignore it and instead asked what they needed me to do. I glanced over at Daryl, who didn't look very happy... His arms were crossed over his chest, his brows were furrowed and his lips were squeezed into a tight scowl.

"See that little nook right up'ere?" Merle asked me, pointing to a gap between the vending machines in the top right corner, "Me an' Miss Pissy Pants here are gonna boost ya up, yer gonna crawl through an' unlock the back door from the inside."

I nodded. That plan sounded easy enough.

"Watch yer back fer geeks," Daryl added in a grumble, "Already took out five of 'em just wanderin' around the building."

"Aye, aye." I said with a pretend salute.

The guys each got into a stance with their knees bent and their palms out flat, waiting to boost me up to the gap. I placed a hand on each of their shoulders, placing my feet in their hands, and just like that, I was there.

"Careful, Kayla..." Daryl's husky voice warned me as I crawled through the space, into a dark, unknown room...

-TO BE CONTINUED-