The end of the world came faster than anyone could have anticipated. Within days, martial law was in place. But nothing could undo what had been unleashed upon the world. Call it Armageddon, call it the End of Days - or just really bad luck.

Daryl didn't care what folks called it.

All he cared about was staying alive - him and the precious few he actually cared about.

As soon as he realised things wouldn't get better, he knew he had to get his younger half-sibling out of juvie. With Dad gone, he convinced Merle to get on their bikes and get on the road. Heading to the juvenile detention centre, they had to cross the entire county - dodging the walking dead, roving gangs and the raw, rabid chaos of a world ending around them.

But as they pulled up to the centre, Daryl saw that their troubles weren't over yet. The place looked like a mess outside - but there was still a chance there were survivors inside. All those locked, reinforced doors had to count for something. They kept wayward youths in - maybe they could keep hell out.

On his motorbike beside him, Merle whistled through his teeth, grimacing at the sight of the building. He acted casual, like he didn't care about his youngest sibling - but Daryl saw how the corners of his eyes creased in worry.

"Ya really think they're alive in there, little brother?" Merle spoke. "Not gonna lie. It don't look good."

Daryl scoffed, kicking the kickstand of his bike down. He clambered off the bike and pulled his crossbow free. He'd use every crossbow bolt he had if it meant getting to you. He knew if you were still alive, you'd been waiting for him. Sure as the sunrise, you always knew your brothers would find a way. Even if they were no-good troublemakers, they didn't mess around when it came to family. And you were all the family they had left in this messed up world.

Ready to head into whatever waited inside, he replied.

"They're alive. They're a Dixon. We didn't come all this way for nothin'. C'mon."