Chapter One

The loose pavement from the old road crunched under the tires of the motorcycle, the engine roaring in his ears as he drove along the quiet back road. He wasn't exactly sure where he was going, but he had had no destination after leaving Atlanta. He had never been out of Georgia and after everything that went down with his brother, now was his chance. It had been three days since he left and had somehow found himself driving towards Louisiana. The more he told himself there was nothing there for him, the more he found himself drawn to it. He pulled over on the side of the road to rest and stretch his legs, pushing the kickstand out on his motorcycle and sliding the helmet off.

"Damn it's hot today." he muttered as he fished his nearly crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his old worn out jeans and patted himself down for a lighter. After grumbling and swearing when he realized his lighter was lost he tucked the cigarette behind his ear and looked around at his lonely surroundings. He hadn't passed anyone in miles since he left the run down gas station manned by an old black man by the name of Jacques. He was determined to keep the wanderer around long enough to tell him of his life story, and pull out a decrepit wallet full of faded and crumpled pictures of his family, most of them either moved or deceased. After managing a full tank of gas, and a new pack of (possibly stale) cigarettes he was on his way to a destination he wasn't sure about. A movement in the water caught his attention out of the corner of his eye and he turned to see an alligator watching him intently from the gnarled roots of the large cypress trees that were slowly taking over the swamp.

"What're you lookin' at, ugly?" he asked aloud as he pulled his bandana out of his pocket, wiping dust and sweat off of his face before shoving it back into his back pocket. He pulled the worn backpack off of his back and pulled out a water bottle, taking a sip of the warmed liquid before looking over his shoulder at the sound of an engine. He squinted his eyes against the glaring sun to see an old beat up truck making its way down the road.

"Great, more locals." he grumbled and hoped they'd keep on driving past. He slung the backpack back on just as the truck slowed next to him and he sighed.

"You okay? You look a bit lost." a female voice asked from the cab and he felt his head turning quickly to look at her before he realized what he was doing. A young girl, no bigger around than a his pinky, sat behind the wheel of the truck. Golden blonde locks were piled high on her head, a wide smile flashed perfect white teeth and dark sunglasses hid her eyes from him.

"Was just out drivin' around, goin' wherever I feel like headin'." he answered and heard her giggle.

"You best be careful out here, Cher. Way down here in the bayou, there ain't too many nice people. Loners have had a tendency to go missin' and end up swimmin' with big ugly down there." she said and nodded towards the alligator that had slowly made it's way closer to the biker, "You ain't too far from New Orleans if that's where ya headed."

"That so?"

"Sure thing. If ya want, you can follow me till ya get there. I know these backroads get confusin'. You ain't from around here, are ya?" She asked as she tilted her glasses down to get a good look at him, revealing large baby blues that stood out against smoky makeup on her porcelain face.

"Nah, I left Atlanta bout three days or so ago an' been on the road since." he answered and turned his attention back to Big Ugly to make sure he wasn't getting any closer. I will stab you if you come closer, you overgrown lizard.

"Three days to get here from Atlanta? Shoo, you musta been lost."

"I was jus' wanderin', wound up here. How long to New Orleans?"

"Bout twenty minutes. You gonna follow?" she asked as she pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. He nodded and she cranked the truck back up, "I'll make sure I don't go to fast so you can follow, but once we get into town, I gotta break off at Bourbon Street in the French Quarter." He nodded and slid his helmet back on, the motorcycle roaring to life and pulling back on to the road behind the old truck, flipping off Big Ugly and watching the gator slowly sink back under the surface of the water. He watched her stick her hand out the window of the truck as they made their way quickly towards the Big Easy, her fingers spread to feel the wind slip between them as they drove. She pulled up to a slow intersection and stuck her head out of the window, looking back at him with a smile. He pulled up next to her and watcher her puller her sunglasses back down.

"You be careful here, but have fun okay? Go on down to Madam Adelaide's for a drink sometime, ya hear? You'll be glad you did. See ya around!" she said and pulled away from him. He watched her take off and her truck slowly disappear into the busy streets.

"So this is what life is like outta Georgia?" he muttered and left the intersection, going with his gut feeling and turning to the right where the blonde's truck had gone. He looked around at the busy sidewalks full of people popping in and out of stores, restaurants, bars, and small businesses, mainly Psychic stores promising accurate readings and little Voodoo shops. In the distance he saw the rest of New Orleans in tall buildings and busy highways and had no desire to go past what he figured was the French Quarter the girl had told him about. He stopped and pulled into a parallel parking spot on a side road, hopping off of his bike and walking to on of the main roads. He looked up at the sign and felt a small smirk pull at the corner of his mouth.

"Bourbon Street." he muttered and looked down the direction he had watched the girl in the truck disappear. He tucked his helmet under his arm and started down the sidewalk, listening to the chatter of people as they passed him by. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, opening it up to see if he still had some cash tucked away. Luckily his older brother hadn't found his wallet before he was able to leave. He glanced up to read a few of the restaurant signs and finally ducked into one he could pronounce and didn't seem like it would be overpriced.

"Welcome! What can I get for ya?" a booming voice called from the counter, "We got some o' the best Po' boys 'round the Quarter."

"Uh, yeah, let's see." he said as he slid into a bar stool at the well polished wooden counter, "I'll take the Cajun Shrimp Po' Boy, and a sweet tea."

"Good choice." the overweight man said as he pulled a pen out from behind his ear and a notepad out of his apron, "You passin' through, son?"

"Yeah, jus' wanderin' and wound up here." the biker answered as the man went to the kitchen window and clipped his ticket to a line.

"Name's Marcus and I'm the owner of this busy lil' diner." he said and outstretched a rough, calloused hand from many years of hard labor.

"Daryl Dixon." the biker answered and saw the man's bright green eyes light up.

"Georgia, right?" Marcus asked as grabbed a plastic glass with the Pepsi logo on the side, filling it with chipped ice and walking over to a few pitchers of tea by the drink station behind the counter. He grabbed up a nearly empty pitcher to fill Daryl's glass and set it down in front of him with an unopened straw.

"You can tell?" he asked before taking a sip and welcoming the sweet, ice cold liquid as it soothed his throat. So much better than water out of my backpack.

"I hear your accent around here a lot. Lotta visitors come in from Georgia, seein' as it ain't too far from here." Daryl smirked and nodded, running his fingers through his shaggy brown hair that was almost plastered to his head from his helmet.

"Born and raised right outside of Atlanta." Daryl answered and heard the bell above the diner door jingle, Marcus throwing his hand up in a wave at the customers who were leaving with full stomachs and smiles on their faces.

"I've been to Atlanta only a handful of times, and I didn't mind it. But here, New Orleans, this my home." His accent was a thick Cajun accent and Daryl sometimes couldn't pick up on certain words and had to rely on context clues to figure out what the man was saying, "I wouldn't trade livin' here for the world." At that moment they heard a bell from the kitchen window and Marcus turned around, grabbing a plate with an overstuffed sandwich and a small bag of potato chips, setting it down in front of Daryl who felt his stomach growl hard at the smell. He picked up the sandwich, his mouth practically drooling and took a large bite.

"Good, eh?" Marcus asked with a smile and Daryl nodded as he chewed his mouthful before taking another bite without a word, "Made the recipe for the fried shrimp batter myself and it's been a hit."

"I can see why. Do you know anythin' 'bout Madam Adelaide's?"

"Oh yeah! That's a popular bar! Adelaide's, well, she sure is somethin'! A woman after my own heart, ya hear! You goin' tonight?"

"I might. A girl told me about it today, pretty little blonde."

"That mus' be Miz Greene. She been there for a few years now. Pretty lil' blonde indeed with a heart of gold. You should go, they got live music in there every night, good prices on drinks, and you ain't gonna be bored when you there. I might be headin' there after I close up tonight if I can get outta here in time."

"Guess I'll see you there." Daryl said with a smirk and popped his bag of chips open.

Music filled the busy street and Daryl looked around at all of the restaurants, bars, and music clubs slammed with people. He kept reading the brightly lit signs, finally seeing the building he was looking for. 'Madam Adelaide's' was burned into a large piece of old wood, decorated with what looked like hand painted flowers along the rough edges. He pushed himself inside, looking up at the front of the club where a jazz band was in full swing. He managed to find his way to the bar through the tight throng of people drinking, dancing, conversing and laughing amongst each other. An older dark skinned woman was behind the bar, her well endowed chest nearly hanging out of her bright magenta shirt, a mess of gold and jewels around her neck. Her hair, in long dreads decorated with wooden and glass beads, was gathered in a high ponytail and revealed large gold hoops in her ears, the other piercings in them decorated in tiny jewels. She smiled a bright, dazzling white smile and laughed at something on of the customers said, her laugh deep and warm.

"There you are, Cher! I was hopin' you'd show up!" He turned to see the blonde from the old truck coming up from the back room, a box of shot glasses in her hands and a smile from ear to ear. Her hair had been removed from atop her head and lay in large soft waves down her back, her eyes still outlined in the dark smoky makeup. Her white shirt hung off of her shoulders and showed warm, softly tanned skin that glowed under the soft lighting of the bar, a single silver chain around her neck. The pendant dipped low and hid behind the hem of the shirt and he was curious to see what it was.

"I heard some good things about this place from a sandwich shop down the road, figured I'd come take a look!" he answered over the music and chatter.

"First one's on me!" she said and walked to the other side of the bar, Daryl watching her hips swing in her low-rise faded blue jeans as she fetched a frosty mug from a small freezer tucked away in the corner, "You got a chance to wander around the Quarter yet?"

"Yeah a bit, pretty busy!"

"I love it here! But you gotta be careful, remember?"

"Ah, I ain't worried about nobody hurtin' me!" he answered and she giggled before setting the mug in front of him. He grabbed it and took a large swig from it, welcoming it quicker than he had the tea.

"It ain't jus' the people you gotta worry 'bout, Cher!" she said as she leaned over the counter towards him with a little smirk on her small painted lips, her large blue eyes narrowing a bit, "There's spirits out here that wander, good an' bad. You'll get really hurt if ya ain't careful. So as long as you're here make sure you mind what you get yourself into. Some of the things that have happened 'round the bayou are dark, real dark, and they still happenin'."

"Like what?" he asked and she stood straight, flipping her hair over her shoulder and propping a hand on her small hip.

"You'll see an' hear soon enough. But do enjoy yourself, I'd like to see you back in here." she said with a smile and a wink before a customer got her attention, a young college boy who she flashed a smile at when he asked for another beer. Daryl smirked, bringing his glass back up to his lips as he looked around.