"Hello. What's your name?"

I looked between them, waiting to decide if there was any point in answering. I'd seen them coming from down the street, but I knew they'd seen me as well.

After maybe three days without eating, I didn't have the strength to outrun people. Not alive people anyway. So I stood there and waited for them to approach me. I didn't know what else to do.

When I was quiet for too long, the man on the left spoke again.

"My name is Aaron," he said, then gestured to his friend, "This is Daryl."

I have a theory. It takes two minutes or less to know if someone is good or bad. If they're bad, you'll probably find out much quicker than that.

Anyway that's my theory. And I still wasn't sure about these two, which was actually a good sign, all things considered.

The man named Aaron wore a red flannel jacket and he wore a large backpack, the kind that people take on camping trips. Or used to, before camping was all people did.

That's not what stood out about him, though. He looked clean. Cleaner than anyone I'd seen in a long time. Cleaner than the second man, Daryl.

He had shaggy hair hanging in his eyes, a leather vest over this dirty shirt, string tying his ragged pants close around his ankles, and a crossbow pointed at my chest. If he'd been alone, I probably would have run. Or tried to.

For a few seconds I'd thought maybe he was one of the bad people. The 'W' people. When they got closer I could tell he wasn't, mostly because I was still standing.

"Are you alone?" the first man tried again patiently.

I kept my grip on my pistol. I didn't bother pointing it at them. There were no bullets left. They didn't know that, but I knew I didn't have it in me to bluff far enough for it to make a difference, so I settled for holding it at my side.

"No," I said reflexively and then corrected myself, "...I mean, well, I wasn't."

"I'm sorry," Aaron said, sincerity in his voice.

I looked at him carefully. He held a rifle but didn't aim it at me. I noticed his blue eyes and how open his face seemed. He almost didn't look like he belonged in this world, like something ripped out of a storybook memory of the past.

"I have good news," he said, smiling cautiously, "We have a camp. It's a community and it's safe, behind fifteen foot walls. Nothing alive or dead gets through that wall without our say-so. There's only one resource more important than security, and that's people. It's my job to find people and potentially recruit them."

He paused and waited for the news to sink in.

"Really?" I asked.

I had no idea what else to say and by this point I was nearly certain that they weren't bad.

"Before we go any further, though, we're going to need to ask you a few questions. Just to get to know you, see if you might be a good fit for our community. What do you say?"

I decided to trust my instincts. And if I was wrong, there wasn't much I could do about it anyway. I stuck my gun in the front of my pants and held out my empty hands.

Satisfied that I wasn't a threat, Daryl finally lowered his crossbow. He still hadn't said a single word.

I took a deep breath and let it out.

"Ask me anything," I said with a shrug.

Whatever was going to happen next, it couldn't be worse than what was behind me.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Daryl spoke for the first time.

"Walkers," I repeated.

I usually call them dead people. Dead walkers. That's a good name, I suppose.

"You mean, like, total?" I asked, suddenly nervous that there might be a wrong answer.

"Uh, yeah," Aaron said, exchanging a look with Daryl, "Just give an estimate."

"I don't know. A lot. Not many lately though, since I lost my crowbar and my knife. These days, mostly I run. Or hide," I answered as best I could.

My answer must have been acceptable because Daryl asked the next question, "How many people have you killed?"

My voice caught in my throat. I looked between Aaron and Daryl. It was hard to read their expressions, but I could sense that it was very important to tell the truth. I'm not much of a liar anyway.

"One," I managed.

They didn't react.

"Why?"

I blinked. If you'd asked me that morning, I would have sworn that I didn't have a single tear left in me, not after what happened. But all of a sudden I felt my eyes growing wet.

"She...was...dying..." my voice came out almost too quiet to hear, but I got it out.

I didn't want to talk about this anymore. I didn't want to talk at all anymore. I looked at the ground. There was a hole in my left sneaker now, too. Why hadn't I noticed that before?

"Alright," Aaron spoke again.

I looked up at him and there was something about his expression that was inexplicably comforting.

"Is there anything you'd like to ask us?" he said.

I looked around us at the broken down cars, the cracked pavement, and the lonely forest beyond.

"I don't want to be here anymore," I said, hesitated, then asked, "Can I come with you?"

"Yes," Aaron said with a gentle smile.

He glanced at Daryl, who gave a curt nod of agreement.

They had vehicles parked a little ways down the road, past some fallen trees. Daryl led the way, crossbow at the ready for any dead people who might show up. I followed behind, doing my best to keep pace with Aaron despite my tired legs.

"My name is Nylah, by the way," I said.

"It's nice to meet you, Nylah," Aaron replied.

He smiled and shook my hand. And just like that, my life changed course again. It was about time something good happened to me!

..................................

TBC!