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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒. We ate a small breakfast, mostly what we didn't finish the night before between our beans and peaches. I tried not to watch as the man bent over, cautious of his gun shot wound, to tie his shoes. I was worried he would end up being a liability but the fact that he was a sheriff's deputy made me feel better.

He knew how to use a gun. Properly.

There weren't a lot of people in this world that knew how to handle one properly and the fact that I'd found myself with the one guy who was trained how was a nice bout of luck for me. And I wasn't a lucky person.

I learned, later that night, that his name was Rick Grimes. The name rolled off my tongue smoothly, like a secret or like a little treat just for myself. I also learned, unfortunately for me, that he had a wife. He had someone worried about him. 

Or, he had someone thinking he was dead. 

Has she moved on yet? Has she forgotten all about her super hero husband for someone else? Someone who protects her and her son from the undead with their bloody teeth and gory hands?

Morgan opened the front door as I adjusted my shirt and fixed my gun in my waistband. Rick walked out with him, still slightly confused as he asked us, "Are you sure they're dead? I have to ask, at least one more time."

"They're dead," Morgan told him before tapping the side of his head. "Except for one part in the brain."

"That's why we aim for the head," I said, swinging my little knife through the air like the blade from Psycho. "Always go for the brain."

The man was carrying a baseball bat, the handle gripped tightly. Even as he slowly walked out, he didn't seem confident. I wouldn't either if I had a nasty gun shot wound in my side but even then, I'd be looking better then he did right now with the suspicious fearful look spread across his face. I looked down at a walker leaning against the fencing outside the house, it was moaning loudly enough to get all of our attention. It looked at us before slowly rising it its feet. Rick, who was sporting a face mask, went after the walker with a little more pep in his step than I expected. He slammed the bat into the walkers head repeatedly until it fell. 

Rick fell to his knees seconds after, dropping the bat to the side as he heaved in deep breaths. I came up beside him, staring down at the walker before raising my knife and sending it down into the nearly cracked skull just for good measure. You could never be so sure with them. I'd seen Scream when I was younger, I knew what happened if you didn't check to see if they were dead first before walking away. I pulled the blade free, hearing a sickening pop before wiping the blood off on the grass to avoid the sticky goo crusting against the metal.

"You okay there?" I asked with a small chuckle, glancing down at the man. 

Rick's face was painted with sweat and he squinted up at me, shielding his eyes from the sun as he said, "I need a moment."

I nodded, giving him the time to catch his breath. "You said last night you don't live far from here?"

He nodded. 

"Want to check it out?"

He looked at me and nodded, instantly. It seemed just that one little statement was enough to get him going again. I would've been hesitant because what if we found bodies? What if we found his wife and child in one of the bedrooms? Would he be okay with seeing that? Seeing what he lost?

Would you?

He soon stood, a little more life in his step now with the destination in mind. He led us down the street and when we finally approached the home, I was surprised to know I recognized it, just slightly. I never knew who lived here and Conner never mowed their lawn, but it was funny, how close we all were to each other all this time.

Could we have run the same paths in the morning? Had we all gone to the same grocery store and stood in the check out line behind one another? 

I watched the man tear up the front steps, mindful of his wound as he kept a hand pressed against his side. Once he got to the door, he let out a small gasp as the door opened. It was unlocked. Never a good sign. 

He tore the mask from his face and entered the home with terrifying speed. By the time Morgan and I had entered, a little more cautiously than he did, he was panting inside the kitchen with a bewildered smile on his face.

"They're alive," he told us, breathing hard. "My wife and son. At least they were when they left."

"How can you know?" I asked, frowning at the mess across the floor and the overturned chairs. "By the look of this place–"

Rick grinned. "I found empty drawers in the bedroom, they packed some clothes. Not a lot, but enough to travel."

"Anybody could have walked in here and stolen some clothes, right?" Morgan said to him before giving me a long look because I'd understand better than Rick.

"See the framed photos on the walls?" Rick asked.

I looked around, seeing none. He was right. The walls were bare save for small nails left where pictures might've once been hanging. It was funny, seeing how different our homes were. Where were my family photos before all of this? Where were the smiling faces?

"Neither do I. Some random thief take those too?" he asked. "Do you think?" He walked over to a small cupboard, opening it. "My photo albums, family pictures, all gone."

Morgan laughed. "All gone?" He sat down, smiling. "My wife, same thing. There I am packing survival gear, she's grabbing photo albums."

I frowned. My family's photo albums were still where they always were, save for just a few pictures missing from inside. Even then, the albums were lacking. We didn't have any family photographs on the walls, not like the ones I was picturing for Rick's family. 

We had one professionally done when I was a kid, long before Conner was born. It was hung up in the living room like some act to show people how happy we were, how perfect, how horrifically unsurprising we were. But that frame was still hanging with the photo still inside. It held fake smiles and plastic eyes, there was no truth in there.

Rick looked to me as if I would say 'me, too' but I held my tongue and his brows furrowed just slightly to show me he was concerned before it fluttered away. I didn't need him, this god amongst men, to know how broken my family had been while his was still moments away from being whole again. He was a cop, his concern would never be the type I was looking for.

But was I even looking for something besides another body to keep me warm? Someone to distract me from all of this? It was hard to picture myself telling someone of all the pain I'd gone through but then again, I'd never admitted it to anyone, not even myself. Even when I'd been with Him, he never knew the true extent. He knew of the bruises I sported that where bone and soul deep, but he didn't know the darkness that I had swallowed down in order to protect my family as if I owed them that. But I owed Conner. 

"I bet both your families are in Atlanta," said Duane with a confident nod.

"That's right," said Morgan, agreeing.

"Why there?" asked Rick and I smiled, he really was clueless.

"Refugee center," Morgan explained. "Huge one they say, right before the broadcast stopped. Military protection, food, shelter."

Conner could be there, but did I believe those refugee centers didn't fall just as the cities? Just as the suburbs and the country sides? Walkers didn't stop because of a little gate, they followed noise and the scent of blood. All those people rushing out there? No way in hell they didn't bring with them the infection or a dead body or two. 

I knew better than these men did. There was nothing left out there except hollow spaces leftover from tragedies.

"They told people to go there, said it'd be safest," he continued.

"Plus they got that disease place," added Duane.

"Center of Disease Control," Morgan told us. "Said they were working out how to solve this thing."

Yes, I didn't believe there was a chance this could be cured or fixed. What could one man in a white lab coat do to stop all of this if everything was already falling apart? I'd heard the last of the radio transmissions before they cut out. I'd seen the television broadcasts and I'd read the newspapers before they stopped coming and stopping printing all together. The dead spread through our cities and towns and homes quicker than anyone could've imagined and there wasn't anything to stop that spread unless we all found a place to hide and never came out.

Rick looked at the two men before turning and walking around the corner and grabbing something off the wall. A pair of keys. I couldn't stop my smile, knowing those keys weren't to this home but to something far more beneficial.

And I was right.

Before I knew it, we were unlocking the doors to the police station. When we entered, it was dark and smelled like something musty, like someone hadn't been inside to let the fresh air in for a long time. Rick held up a flashlight, shining it over empty desks and cluttered floors. They left in a hurry too, like everyone else.

We continued through, following Rick down the hall and towards the back where he opened a door and I really couldn't stop the smile. The bathroom was large and had rows of showers and I was already rushing forward to turn the knobs. There was no way I was leaving here without a shower.

Rick came up to the shower to my right, turning the knobs as I did and just like magic the water came down in perfect clear sheets.

Morgan sighed, shaking his head. "Gas lines been down for maybe a month."

"Cold or not, it's worth it," I said with a laugh.

Rick grinned and my eyes got wide.

"No way," I breathed as Rick's grin widened.

"Station guys are on a propane system," he explained, putting his hand under the water. His voice was giddy, more excited than I expected but, to be fair, the guy had been in a coma for a little over a month and hadn't showered properly either. "Pilot's still on."

We turned into giddy children once the steam began to rise and the water was pulsing with warmth. I could feel the fresh steam touch my skin, coating me in humidity so sweet I wanted to pour it down my throat and have it warm me all the way through. I stripped down so quickly I nearly tripped on the ends of my jeans as I scurried to the shower. 

I would bathe as much as I could with water and rags but I hadn't had a proper shower for over a month. I'd stopped paying attention to whether or not I smelled because everything smelled. Every was filled with rot and it no longer mattered if my hair was washed of if I'd shaved my legs. The walkers wouldn't care. As I washed a though settled over me. While in college, we'd shower in the communal bathrooms and I remembered being terrified to be in there with someone else. The thought of someone seeing the history torn across my skin or even seeing me in a way that was so open and whole made my heart beat pick up and a dizziness settle over my eyes. But here, I wasn't self conscious with the fact that I was showering next to two grown men and Duane, I was too lost in the burning heat the water was cascading over my dirtied skin just as they were with their own bodies. 

We all had scars here, whether they were visible or not, we all bore something heavy.

I watched the water run down the drain a dull gray and cringed. I hadn't expected myself to be that dirty. Pulling my hair free from its ponytail, I turned my back to let the water wash away the month of sweat and grease keeping my hair plastered up and out of my face. The water tore through my hair and for the first time in a while, I saw my blonde peer through the dirt. I tilted my head back and let the water rush over my face as it cleansed my body and soul. The burning sensation was far better than the burn of something cold and I never wanted to leave. It was so easy to feel much more alive in something hot.

"Oh my lord!" Morgan cheered, laughing under the water as Duane sang out, "Hot water!"

"Oh that feels good, right?" Morgan laughed back and I shook my head with a laugh of my own.

I could hear Duane singing again, some little tune that brought bubbles of laughter out of me. He reminded me so much of Conner is scared me but seeing him like this, cheerful and carefree for the first time, brought my heart to a skipping beat.

It was rare to hear a child's laugh, especially now. Conner had been such a quiet boy growing up that it was hard to pin point memories and little moments where I saw genuine happiness across his face. He was just trying to get through the day, same as me. We lived and breathed on autopilot and as I heard the sighing giggles escape Duane, it made me jealous of the life they had together as a family. My heart even throbbed for Rick and what his son must've been like as a baby and then as a toddler and now.

Rick, to my left, was shaving his beard and I marveled at him, just for a fleeting moment. He was handsome without the scruff, even more so than I had once thought. He had a nice jaw, strong and powerful, and his skin was no longer pasty and worn out. He looked more alive here than he did when he finally had a proper meal in him. He was smiling to himself and I wondered if he was thinking of Carl and how much Duane reminded him of him, like I was with my brother. Did we have the same thoughts at a time like this? Were we more alike than we both thought?

Our families were lost and we had both miraculously found Morgan on the same day. It seemed the fates wanted us together more than anything.

After I turned the water off, very reluctantly I might add, I padded across the room to grab one of the fluffy towels. I wrapped myself up in its gentle warmth and sat down on one of the benches as Rick and Morgan did the same.

"Duane," said Rick, handing him clothes, "dressing room's back there."

"What do you say, Duane?" Morgan asked.

Duane turned around. "Thank you."

"Atlanta sounds like a good deal," Rick said as we gathered our own clothes once Duane had retreated into one of the dressing rooms. "Safe for anyone, people."

"That's where we were heading," Morgan explained. "Things got crazy, man you wouldn't believe the panic!"

"Streets swarmed," I murmured, thinking of my own time there towards the beginning. "Traffic from hell."

"My wife," Morgan said, looking down, "she couldn't travel. Not with her hurts. We had to find a place to stay low. And after she died, we just needed to hunker down. I guess we just froze in place."

"Trying to move on?" asked Rick.

"Hadn't walked up to it yet," Morgan told us, putting on a shirt.

I stood and turned my back to the men as I dressed. I silently thanked myself for taking some of my old clothes from my home with me. The thought of having to put on the dirty clothes I'd been sleeping in, day after day, was far too disgusting.

When I turned back around, I was surprised to find Rick standing in his police uniform. It fit him nicely, the brown gentle against his skin and it made me want to run my hands all over him. I grinned, walking over to him and smoothing out the collar as I said, "Well, hello, Mr. Deputy."

"Ma'am," he said with a curt nod and a soft accent, mirroring my own grin.

"Where can I find the gun locker," I murmured, patting his chest. It was the most I could do so I wouldn't get the burning urge to run my hands further. I looked up at him through my lashes, batting them as I added, "I'm in real need of some help, mister."

"Follow me, ma'am," he said, pretending to tip his hat to me with a flare of southern charm. He cleared his throat and looked past me and towards Morgan and said, "There's a chance they left a few behind."

We followed Rick once Duane was dressed, slithering down the halls and towards the lockers. We were surprised to find the door unlocked as we entered but the walls were half bare from where the larger guns must've been before the chaos broke out. It disappointed me only slightly there wasn't anything major but we were lucky enough to find something.

I looked through the holster's hanging up on small hooks and picked one out that would fit my gun. I shimmied the leather through my belt loops, fixing it into place and buckling it snugly to my hips. I slipped my gun into the holster and smiled, fixing my hand over the weapon and finding comfort with how close to was to me now. 

"A lot of it's gone missing," Rick muttered, picking up a gun and inspecting it with a critical eye.

"Daddy, can I learn to shoot?" Duane asked. "I'm old enough."

"Yeah, you're gonna learn, but I'm gonna teach you carefully. You have to respect the weapon," Morgan told his son, to which Rick smiled softly.

I nodded, looking over at the boy. "That's right. It's not a toy," I added, holding another gun in my hand, a rifle. "This is going to be one of the most dangerous things you've ever held in your hands."

"What's more dangerous?" he whispered.

"Other people."

Conner had learned against his will. John made a point of teaching us young as if we were his own personal soldiers. Trained to shoot, trained to be stealthy, trained to be put into war. But against what, I didn't know. He liked that we were moldable, that we were his to make.

We were just clay things ready to be taken into his rough hands, ready to perform whatever task he needed. We were just daddy's soldiers and nothing more in his eyes.

"You pull the trigger, you have to mean it," said Rick. "Always remember that Duane."

"Yes, sir," Duane answered.

I turned away from the men, loading my gun up with ammo. I threw Rick a box of ammo which he placed in a duffle bag. We all began to load guns into bags and ready them with ammo, even stuffing boxes of ammo into our own bags for safe keeping as if it were gold and it was. I continued to look around and chuckled to myself when I saw it amongst the loose ammo in one of the drawers. 

It was shiny, still a pretty gold. I picked up the badge and ran my thumb over the engravings. I smiled to myself, feeling like a little kid getting to hold something so precious, so full of meaning. Too bad whoever had it before was long gone. I hooked the badge to my holster, like a memento.

"Conserve your ammo," Rick told us as we walked out. Both he and Morgan had bags of guns over their shoulders and I pictured us with bags ready to go camping. This was this life was, just some grand camping trip. "It goes faster than you think," he added as he placed a sheriffs hat on his head, "especially at target practice."

"Duane," Morgan said, "take this to the car." He handed Duane the bag of guns and he quickly went to the car, loading it into the backseat. Morgan and Duane both had baseball caps on their heads and if this had been a normal day, I would've thought they were going out to a baseball game or to the park. We were normal, just for a few minutes.

"You sure you won't come along?" Rick asked Morgan, regarding the other man with steady eyes.

"We could all go together," I said, trying to urge him along. I didn't like leaving him and Duane behind but Rick and I had a right to go and find our families, no matter the danger or cost.

Morgan looked at me and shook his head, my heart dropping. "A few more days, by then Duane will know how to shoot and I won't be so rusty."

Rick nodded with a sigh, going to his car and taking a walkie talkie out. "You have one battery," he said. "I'll turn mine on a few minutes everyday at dawn. You get up there, that's how you find me."

"You think ahead," Morgan said, smiling.

"I can't afford not too," he answered. "Not anymore."

Morgan stared at Rick, searching his face before finally saying, "They might not seem like much, one at a time, but in a group? All riled up and hungry? You better watch your ass." He regarded me me with a softer look. "God, you best take care, you hear me? You sense trouble, you run."

"Of course," I said, nodding even though I knew what I was saying was a false promise. I would no longer run. I would no longer be a coward.

Cowards run and I stopped running a long time ago.

The two men shook hands, as I hugged Duane softly. The boy gripped me tightly, murmuring, "Tell Conner I say hi when you find him."

"Maybe, one day, you'll get to see each other again," I said in return and Duane smiled. 

After we pulled away, Morgan grabbed me by the shoulder and wrapped his arms around me even tighter than his son did. I gripped the back of his jacket tightly, keeping him close as he said, "You be safe, okay? And you better find Conner, get him away from that old man of yours." I nodded with a wet laugh as he added, "We'll see each other again."

"Soon, I hope," I mumbled, feeling emotion bubble up into my throat. "Take care of yourself, Mr. Jones."

He laughed, pulling back to look me in the eyes. He shook his head with his smile growing faint before looking past me and saying, "You're a good man, Rick. I hope you find your wife and son."

"See you Duane," Rick said, shaking Duane's hand. "Take care of your old man."

"Yes, sir," Duane said, smiling.

I watched as the pair began to walk away, heading towards their car when we all heard the rattle. Turning, I caught sight of a walker trudging over to the fence that separated us from him. Can I even call it a him? If they're all the same monster? 

Rick made a soft sound and I glanced over at him, seeing his face fall.

"You know him?" I asked, glancing back at the walker who wore the same uniform he did now.

Rick nodded, murmuring, "Leon Basset. Didn't think much of him, careless and dumb. But...I can't leave him like this."

"You know about hearing a shot?" Morgan asked with an arm around Duane.

"Let's not be here when they show up," Rick said, taking out his gun and walking to the fence.

"Let's go son," Morgan said, ushering Duane to the car. 

I gave the duo one last wave before looking back towards the fence as Rick approached the walker. He pressed his gun through the fence and against the man's skull as it moaned and tried to reach through the metal.

When the gun went off, no one flinched. 

The old cop car drove smoothly and I was pleasantly surprised to find that it had enough gas for us to get the hell away from the police station. We didn't leave right away, waiting to watch as Morgan drove off with Duane, both of them safely inside the vehicle and driving towards god knows where.

I expected them to go back to the neighborhood. It seemed like their safest bet for the time being, where I hoped Morgan found the strength to finally put down his wife. Leaving her out there, wandering around aimlessly, just didn't seem right and he knew it too.

As we drove off, Rick turned the sirens on just for a moment as if to say goodbye before he turned it off and we were driving off in silence. What else really was there to say? He'd just woken up in an undead world thinking things were going to be normal and his wife and son would be by his side. Instead, he was barricaded in his hospital room and left on his own.

"Do you think our families really are going to be in the city?" I asked, looking out the window and towards the passing fields.

"Where else could they be?" responded Rick. 

"Somewhere safer."

"Is the city not safe?"

"Just think about it," I murmured, glancing over at him. He had one hand on the wheel and the other resting against his head, elbow pressed to the window. "These things, these walkers, they're people and there's a lot of people in the city."

"How fast could this thing spread? Really?"

"Faster than you think."

"Morgan said you're looking for your family, too," he said, "but, you don't seem as hopeful as I am."

I glanced back to the fields. "It's because I'm not."

Rick pulled off the road, having explained to me very quickly that there was something he needed to do. I followed him out of the car and into a small park, the trees green and moving softly with a breeze. 

It felt almost like a normal day, if things weren't so quiet.

"Why aren't you optimistic?" asked Rick as we walked.

"Just easier not to be, I guess," I said with a shrug, not wanting to tell him the real truth behind it. John and Nancy had taken Conner and my best guess, the horrible, terrible guess, was that they were dead. That John killed them all and then himself as if that would make up for the horrors they had gone through or were about to go through.

I had no hope that I would find them anytime soon. They'd left a long time before I got home and there was a chance they could be states over by now or even dead in the houses down the street. There was no telling where they could be and I just couldn't afford to give myself any slip of hope because once I got my hopes up and I never found them, the come down would be fatal.

Rick placed his sheriffs hat back on his head as we ducked under low branches and I suddenly saw the reason of us being here. I slowed to a stop, allowing the man to continue forward and towards the slow crawling walker.

The walker had no legs, just bones trying to move and wriggle across the grass. Its hands gripped the green, pulling itself weakly along. Sometime ago, it was a woman. I pictured her with beautiful blonde hair and wide, pretty eyes. Sometime ago, it had been alive. Perhaps even a mother, someone's daughter.

Now it was only rot.

Rick bent down about a foot away, studying the creature before pulling his gun from his holster. He rubbed his mouth with his free hand before extending his arm with the gun and said, "I'm sorry this happened to you."

This time, the shot made my flinch. My heart jumping with the sound.

As he stood, I whispered, "Why'd you do that? It wouldn't have gotten us or anyone."

"I couldn't just leave her like that," he responded, turning and giving me a long look. 

Behind him, darkened blood oozed from the walkers shattered skull. 

"You can't save 'em all," I murmured before turning around and walking back the way we came in a comfortable silence.

The trees and the wind were our only sounds.

The car ride was mostly silent. We needed to get as close to the city as we could before our gas ran out and by the sound of the strange rumbling and groaning within the vehicle, I would say it was sooner rather than later that we'd have to stop. Even Rick knew, having been driving the car a bit slower than the pace we'd been traveling by to conserve as much of the gas as he could. 

I rested a hand out the window, feeling the breeze blow through my hair and I hoped what we were doing was the right choice. 

"We're gonna have to get more gas soon," Rick said, speaking up for the first time in a while and as if he were reading my mind.

I looked over and nodded. "We'll stop at one of those farms we keep passing." I sat up a little more in my seat, resting my elbow against the door to gnaw on my nails, a nervous dirty habit of mine. "How old is your kid, Rick?"

"Twelve."

I smiled softly. "My brother, Conner, he's fourteen."

"How long has it been since you've seen him?" 

I winced, pulling my finger from my mouth and seeing a small dot of blood rise from where I had torn at a hangnail. I ignored his question and murmured, "If they're not in the city, we need to get in and get out fast."

"You really don't think it's safe?"

"Would you?"

He sighed and I looked at him, noticing the way his jaw was set in worry. 

"It's better that we go in together than alone," I said, hoping to ease his worry. "We have twice as much firepower now."

He shook his head softly, reaching up to rub his mouth. "I didn't think this would be the world I was wakin' too. I thought..." He shrugged. "I thought everything would be the way it always was."

"Good things never last, Rick," I sighed, turning my attention back to the window and leaning forward to point out the window. "Look! We should stop there, we're about out of gas anyway."

And I was right, as he pulled into the long driveway, the car spluttered. He parked and I got out first, holding my knife in one hand as I waited for him to follow. He took a small picture off of the mirror before getting out, the gun bag in his hands. 

I fixed the strap on my backpack and even strapped it across my chest. There was no way in hell I was going to have this thing torn off of me. I knew it would be dangerous because if a walker latched on I'd be a goner but I didn't want my valuables and the last objects of my life vanishing in a pack.

"You ready?" I asked, looking back at Rick who was fixing the hat on his head.

He nodded, taking one last look at the patrol car before following me up the last bit of distance towards the house.

"Do you think anyone will be home?" I asked as we got closer and I noticed how deserted it truly looked. Everything was dirty and rusting, like no one had occupied this land for some time now. 

Rick approached cautiously, cupping a hand near his face and saying loudly, "Hello? Police officer out here!"

I slipped my knife into my waistband, better to make a cautious approach then one making me appear to be a knife wielding maniac. "We're just here to ask for some gas!" I called out as Rick set the gun back down and headed towards the front porch. 

I followed him up as he went to the door. As he knocked and said, "Anybody home?" I walked around to one of the windows, hoping to peer in. I walked towards the farthest one, noticing the grime against the glass as I looked in. 

It didn't take me long to see the bodies and it sure as hell didn't take me long to notice the brown blood and the flies. I looked away from the window and caught Rick's long gaze and I shook my head. "They're dead." I glanced back at the window. "They took the easy way out of this."

He moved past me to take a look and his face fell. 

"We could get inside, if you wanted," I murmured, noticing the way his eyes cast to the ground. This type of horror and reality hadn't hit him the way it had me. He hadn't seen this level of fear before. "Or I could, see if there's any rations or–?"

He shook his head, bowing his head for a silent moment then looked up. "Let's check the car in the yard first."

I nodded, following him. I let him look around inside, fumbling with the wires for a quick start but after a few moments of trying he shook his head and stood. I glanced around as he wiped his hands off on his pants and I stopped, noticing the fenced in yard beyond the house and I smiled.

"Looks like it's your lucky day, cowboy," I cooed, motioning with my head for him to follow my gaze and he matched my grin.

"How good are you at wrangling a horse?"

I laughed, scoffing out, "Why, how good are you?"

He continued to grin as he grabbed the gun bag and we walked cautiously over towards the horse pen. The animal trotted in a small circle as we approached, its tail flicking. Rick handed off the bag to me as he picked up some old reins that hung from the fence and jumped into the pen. 

"Easy now, easy," he muttered as he moved slowly. "I'm not going to hurt you, it's more like a proposal."

I rolled my eyes and climbed into the pen after him with both hands raised. The horse bucked and neighed but it didn't run as I walked up towards it. I had a small experience with horses, especially when I was younger. It was just another one of my father's tests to prove how adept his children were. I learned to ride, although I hated it, and I learned how to be kind to animals even though he never was. 

The horse stared at me as I slowly raised my hand and laid it against its head. Its fur was thin and smooth and I wondered if the big thing was curious as to where his owners went. How long had he been stuck out here?

Rick came up next to me, so much slower than he had been moving seconds before. 

"See," I murmured, petting the animal gently, "he just needed some love." I reached out and took Rick's hand in mine and slowly brought it up to the horse's face where mine was. I ignored how warm Rick's skin was against mine as he came up beside me and I could now feel the warmth coming off of him. Even in the Atlanta heat, I could still feel him like there was some force pushing his very being into mine. 

He ran his hand down the horse before pulling back. He got the reins around the horse as I petted him, keeping him calm. "Go on and get the saddle," I said, motioning my head towards where the saddle hung on the fence behind us. 

Rick nodded and jogged back. I was tempted to rest my face against the animal's but held back. I was just thankful to see another living thing out here besides us. You never knew what would survive and what wouldn't and I felt a sense of gratitude that this animal had somehow survived.

How a simple creature could live but a human couldn't. Running my hand down the animal's mane, it made me think of Conner. Everything always did. Conner riding his first horse, his little hands clutching the reins as I sat behind him, guiding the beast. He never knew what it all meant when he was young, all those lessons and teachings John spat. He didn't understand even when John would raise his scarred hand and send it across our faces. Conner never understood and I was scared he never would, especially now.

He was too trusting.

"You ready?" asked Rick from behind me and I turned, nodding. He carried the saddle up and slung it over the back of the horse and while he worked getting it attached, I continued to ease the animal with gentle pets. When Rick was done, he grinned, patting the side of the naive creature and muttered, "Good boy."

"You want to get on first or me?" I asked with a grin. 

"Why? You want the reins?" he asked with such a knowing spark in his eyes it made me hope he never did find his wife, as horrible as that sounded. What would become of us if we were out here alone just a little longer with no hope? 

"Come on, cowboy, I know you want them."

He nodded with a small smile. He took his foot in the saddle and slung his leg over with ease. I jogged over the the fence, opening the gate as Rick got his balance. When I walked back over, he lowered his hand.

I grabbed onto his outstretched hand and hauled myself on behind him, fastening my hands around his stomach to keep myself from falling backwards. He was so much warmer against me like this that I wanted to rest my cheek against his back and close my eyes but I stopped myself from having that comfort. We couldn't have such nice things like that here. 

He adjusted the reins and then his hat as the horse began to trot. "Let's go easy," Rick said to the animal with a worried wobble to his voice. "I haven't done this in years."

The horse neighed and in one great movement it began to gallop through the field. Rick laughed, bellowing out, "Wow there!" 

The horse didn't listen but Rick got his footing and we were racing through the tall grass and towards the road. After we got comfortable, I readjusted the backpack on my bag and Rick fixed the gun bag in his lap. If the horse reared up, our belongings would be smashed or gone so I tightened the straps on my bag and hoped to god nothing happened.

As we continued on, I found that everything we passed was horrifically deserted. As if straight from an apocalyptic movie, the roads were barren save for a the cars pushed up against each other along the barriers. There was trash thrown about, old suitcases and belongings of people who must've dropped what they were carrying to make a quick escape.

I was surprised not to see any bodies, though. I almost expected it, well, I always expected it. Since the beginning, there were always bodies. Either just bones or pieces of limbs of even just the broken body of a corpse too gone to reanimate or were properly killed. 

We trotted under an overpass and I glanced behind us and for a moment, I thought I saw someone watching as we went. If it truly was anything, I knew whatever was watching us was dead. Everything was always dead.

Not everyone can survive this.

I could see the city more and more as we went down the highway. It looked almost normal but the closer we got we could see the true destruction. I had heard the city had been bombed, that the army or military or whoever had gone in and tried to stop what was happening but failed. The tops of buildings were gone or caved in with open and jutting holes of wires and glass. I remembered coming to the city when I was younger. 

We used to have family here, grandparents, I think. I was young, it was hard to distinguish between the random faces I saw for only passing moments. John never liked his family growing up but I remember a funeral before Conner was born. It was for someone old and John kept his hand on mine the entire service and when it was over, I remembered him looking pleased.

The city, though, was always a fun place. It had fancy restaurants, shopping centers, and places for you to get lost in. It was strange seeing it as it was now, just empty buildings haunted by what it used to be. 

The further we got into the city, the more troubled I became. I tightened my grip around Rick and whispered, "Something isn't right."

"How much farther until we reach a safe place do you think?" he asked, slowing the horses step.

"You mean a place to rest?" I said, furrowing my brows. "There's nowhere safe to go, Rick. Look at this place."

The streets were destroyed. There were cars flipped over, smashed together and against buildings and street lamps. There was trash everywhere, old newspapers plastered to the cement and there were bodies. I could smell rot, I could smell the old and new blood. 

From above us, I heard the rumble of something in the skies but I couldn't take my eyes off the streets. There was a rustle behind us and I turned fast, my hand going to my holster. Another rustle and the sound of shoes scrapping the ground and I sucked in a breath. Walkers rounded one of the street corners and I dug a hand into Rick's side.

"Holy shit," whispered Rick as I kept my eyes glued on the hundreds of walkers slowly walking towards us. "There's a goddamn tank."

"Rick–"

The horse bucked and I yelped, feeling myself fall backwards. I lost my grip on Rick and hit the cement. I didn't let the fall deter me and I rolled to my side to avoid the squealing animal as Rick tumbled down a minute later. I had my knife out before my gun because I knew better. Sound only attracted more and as I got a quick look around myself, I noticed that there were at least a couple hundred of the monsters crawling and limping their way towards us.

Rick stumbled to his feet and reached for the gun bag but the walkers were closing in. I swung my knife at the nearest walker as Rick fired his gun. The blade dug into the walkers skull and I tried to pull it back out but Rick was pulling my backpack and I was stumbling behind him through the street.

I tried to pull out of his grip to at least get back to the horse but Rick's grip was stronger than I expected. I watched in horror as the walkers closed in on the bucking, crying animal. It was seconds later that I watched it fall and blood begin to pool in the street.

I yanked myself away from Rick, spinning around to fire a round at the closing in monsters before I turned and began to make a break for the tank. Rick followed my lead and we began to climb, kicking at walkers hands and heads as we tried to get away. I wanted to be optimistic but I knew this was the end. There was no way in hell we were going to survive getting away from a pack of three hundred or so. 

Rick pulled the tank door open and grabbed at my arm, pulling me inside. He slammed the door shut and we fell inside, my breath caught in my throat like it was thick with smoke. We crawled away from the door just in case and Rick stopped, jumping in his spot as we both realized we were not so quite alone.

The dead man wasn't so dead as he stirred, opening and closing its dead mouth. Before I could stop Rick from pulling out his gun, he had the thing pressed against the walker's head and was pulling the trigger.

Ringing filled my head like knives scrapping at my brain. I pressed both hands to my ears trying to ease the sound as I winced, clenching my jaw. The pain was bright, like there were white lights dancing across my vision. 

"You...idiot..." I hissed as I opened my eyes slowly, my lashes wet with tears. 

Rick rubbed his ears as I moved slowly, peering out one of the tank's windows. We were completely surrounded like I thought. There were so many walkers, they looked almost like bugs swarming. 

I could get a good look at the walkers closest to us as they began to try and climb over one another, desperate to reach the tank. What horrified most about them was that it wasn't just men and women I was seeing trying to reach us but children. The dead don't discriminate and they don't care if you're young, we're all food. Just flesh to devour.

"What are we going to do, Rick?" I whispered, breathless at the sight. "We lost the guns and I lost my good knife, we're screwed." The knife I had in my bag was dull and would work but it wouldn't get me far.

I glanced back and watched Rick shrug with a helpless look before he closed his eyes and sighed deeply. There was no way for us to reach the guns now and as I checked my gun to see how many rounds I had left, there was a crackle. 

It filled the tank with static and I spun around fast as Rick's eyes opened. The CB radio in the tank blinked and spluttered before a voice rang out and chills swept over me.

"Hey, you in the tank. Dumbasses cozy in there?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE––eeeeeee my baby glenn finally coming in <333 i miss him every single day you guys, i miss him so much

hope you guys like it so far!! let me know what you think of sam!!! esp sam/rick rn!!!

vote/comment and i'll propose to you