Status: First ever Walking Dead fic... Here we go...

Better Angels

Fatal

I've never been able to say that I've ever been close to death- my parents never let me get that close. Always slashing open walker heads when need be. I take care of a few on my own, but can't imagine a burden like that... Being responsible for so many people. So many possible deaths, it's easy to loose someone.

I followed everyone else in our small group. Which was, our immediate family. Younger brother, mom and dad. We were seperated from my older sister at the begininng of the outbreak, my mom is still devistated, I learned to feel nothing for her... Though during my life, she had become my favorite person in the world, my best friend and the only person I could trust... I learned to believe emotions tie us down, and that's the last thing I need. I am bleak and bitter about her and will most likely nod and say something small when asked, out of politness. Any other emotions towards my ex-best friend are dangerous and should be kept to myself.

It was early fall, we were trying to trap some fish in the creek in the nearby town. It wasn't safe to be so exposed... So far from home.

I had very little luck, my dad had caught a few small sunfish, but they were hardly anything at all.

I brushed my already numb fingertips across the cold surface of the stream. Do to them already being numb, I didn't feel a thing, just the faint movement and flow as the water worked around my hand. I watched the water glitter dimly, the sun wasn't out and there was heavy clouds hanging in the sky, there was traces of slushy snow on the river bank and it was already becoming bitterly cold.

I wasn't armed with much, trusted enough to go out on my own because I was the fastest. My mom gathered berries and my little brother was with my dad hunting with the one real weapon we had brought today.

My old handmade recurve bow, I had a thing for them before all this happened. I loved how wild it felt just to hold one and eventually made my own from fallen branches of the three large trees of my backyard. Yet... I wasn't trusted enough to shoot my weapon, It was the quietest of the weapons we had gathered, but not the only projectile-launching weapon in our possession.

I had a hunting knife, it belonged to my uncle, who fought in Vietnam years ago.

It was tucked safely away in my boot, ready... I hated knowing I'd have to use it, but whenever I had to, I could. I'd killed maybe six walkers tops since the outbreak. Always gaining a disapproving look from my parents when they find out.

I gazed into the water a little longer, until on instinct my hand flew to the hilt of the suddenly tiny knife, my breathing quickening, panicked. As I tried to control it, I heard rustling in the leafs behind me. I held my breath, but with my heart pounding out of my chest, I gasped for air.

I turned slowly, the knife in my hand, I stared with uncertainty back into the almost leafless bushes, my finger tightening with anticipation, anxiety overtook my senses, and I missed my oppertunity to strike when a walker dove from the bushes and threw itself at me. I screamed, shoved at it's face and plunged the knife into it's forehead, twisting it until blood spurted across my t-shirt. I groaned and shoved it's body off of me and stood up, peering down at the almost black stain across my shirt.

Fashion doesn't matter to me now. Never really did... But when you trash a decent shirt with walker blood, you can't help but feel a little bit of remorse because clothes are hard to come by these days, especially nice ones.

I looked around myself to be sure I was really alone and turned, picking up my hunting bag that hung from a solitary branch. I lifted the strap over my head and dropped it onto my shoulder, adjusting it slightly until it rested correctly. Then I began my hike, following the creek back to the small beach where we'd left the truck and were supposed to meet up.

Everyone else was there, and as predicted, my dad's attention went straight to the bloodstain.

"Are you hurt? Bit?" He asked as I leaned against the truck bed, tossing my almost empty hunting bag into it.

I shook my head "Just ran into some trouble, that's all."

He sighed a little in relief, but it was short lived.

"Human or dead?"

"Which do you think?" I asked sarcastically. Gesturing to the almost black splatter across my shirt.

His eyes narrowed a little at my remark and smart-ass tone, but he shook it off. Must of figured there were bigger problems than my attitude.

"So what'd you guys find?" I asked, my eyes darting between mom and dad. My brother stood there as well, on my dad's left side.

"Some berries, wild asperagus, and not much fish other than what you saw." Dad said, speaking with such authority, but I knew he was as scared as the rest of us. The questions all the same...

How much food? How much fuel? How long until the next herd of walkers pass through?

We were all worried. But hid it well, mostly for my brother's sake, I think. He was less than eight years old, but smart as a whip.

"What about you? What did you find?" They asked me. I just shrugged sadly.

"I couldn't find anything. I told you I sucked at trappin'."

"You just need practice." He chided, but I wasn't buying it.

I just nodded, walking off to look around the exterior forest some for more food sources. I'll tell ya, they are scarce enough in the winter anyways, nevermind having to fight off the animals and other survivors for them.

I returned with a small handful of black berries. Added them to the pile while Mom took inventory. I stared off into space, there was really no spot for me in a group as pivotal as this one. But since they are my family and offer me protection, I can't leave them. I shudder at the the thought of doing that, anyways. I have a terrible fear of being alone...

I climbed into the backseat when I no longer wished to look back at the river flowing relentlessly. It used to be my favorite place to go as a kid, but now it was littered with walker bodies, it was more like a brutal war ground.

I closed my eyes and rested my head against the foggy glass. Just going to rest my eyes for a few minutes...

I woke to my name being called, I jerked upright and wiped at the drool on my face. So attractive... I thought to myself. Looking out the window, I realized we were stopped. But we weren't at home. So I was instantly confused.

"We're just checking it out." My mom assured me, seeing the panic in my eyes ease as I sighed and took a deep breath and hopped out. Making sure I had my knife, I followed my Dad towards a big barn. I didn't like it, how it looked. But I felt that way about pretty much everything anyways.

He pounded at the padlock on the doors while I kept watch. When that didn't work, he told me to stay put while he walked around the barn to look for another way in. I began to protest but he silenced me instantly. I just nodded and got a firmer grip on my knife.

I honestly didn't like our numbers. Even though they were an even four, it wasn't a safe number. We needed more people in our group, and I think Dad realizes that now. Four can only last so long before someone gets left behind for the greater good or sacrifices themselves to the beasts. I know we need more people, but finding trustable people is a completely different thing.

I was still trying to yawn off the exhaustion blurring my vison. I always took too many watches and never enough naps. I was offered many oppertunities to sleep, but never took them.

I rubbed my eyes, considering leaning against the barn and just closing my eyes. That's when I heard the groaning and instantly became more aware, I looked around myself, suddenly feeling the impact of something hitting my forearm, I looked and it was my Dad. His breathing shit as he tried to get me to run. The truck was so far away, we wouldn't make it if we didn't move.

I tried to run as fast as him, I was fast. Fastest in the group, but my eyes blurring and demensions smearing made it difficult to see straight as I forced my legs to move. There was a fence that we must clear before we are home free. Dad jumped it, and my boot got caught in barbed wire and I tripped, the air knocked out of me as I landed with a thud. My ears rang and I almost didn't hear my Dad's panicked yells for me to get up.

I was all bound in razor wire, it dug into my skin. All over my body on my arms and legs, across my exposed shoulders and burned as I tugged on it to pull it free, it wouldn't let go. I looked up into my Dad's eyes, horrified.

"GO!" I yelled "Just go, go home!"

"No. I'm not leaving you." He plead with me, but he saw the determined glint in my eye. I wasn't going with them.

"Go..." I coughed, knowing my next lines would be cliche and over-spoken. "I'll hold them off!" I called, fighting the wire. But he wouldn't comply, instead he hopped the fence again and crouched, helping me untangle the wire that I was becoming more and more bound in.

I looked up to see the herd getting closer, fifteen yards away and moving fast. I was scared to die, but it wasn't the andrenaline in my veins that made me determined that I could do it to save my family. I glared at them, and looked back at my dad. I'd at least like to die knowing they'd lived.

I pulled him into a crushing hug, the wire digging into my skin more. I held him for a moment before quickly whispering "I love you, I'm so sorry."

I pushed him away from me and shot him a look "Get the hell out of here!" I shrieked hopelessly as he stood there staring at me, finding it difficult to leave me behind.

I nodded once more in encouragment and he turned slowly, before pulling my bow and arrows off his back and tossing them towards me with a weak smile that threatened tears about to spill, he took off over the fence, disappearing over the grassy hill that divided us.

Never before had I felt so alone.

I grabbed the bow, and loaded it with clumsy fingers, I aimed, and waited for them to get close enough to shoot. I had seven arrows, seven chances to lower the population.

I watched them move across the field quickly, there were too goddamned many of them.

Survive...

I dug my fingers into the soil in anxiety before grabbing at the wire, it sliced away at my hands as I tore at it, yanking it away from my body.

The first walker came way too quickly, it was dressed in dark neutral colors, and instead of biting me or attacking, it knelt at my feet and grabbed the wire there. I could hear it's breathing. It's breathing. It wasn't a walker, but a human.

I didn't recognize him, and that terrified me. He was frickin huge...

He pulled pliers from his coat and clipped at the wire as quickly as his could, muscles straining to provide enough strength to break the wires.

We finally tore it all off and it burned terribly, I tried to climb the fence but was out of energy. I took deep breaths, but my lungs just ached. I leaned over the fence, trying to get my bearings.

"C'mon, dammit. All dat goddamned work 'nd you give up!" The man yelled, he wore a black bandana across it nose, but his brooding blue eyes glared at me. I glared back and took the biggest breath my lungs could hold and launching myself over the fence, stumbling a little as I pulled the quiver over my head and drew a arrow from it and began shooting. Keeping the heat off the man who fought on the otherside of the fence.

I took down six and he got the other seven, gathered the shot arrows and handed me back mine when he quickly climbed the fence, they were bloodied, though I had little doubt in my mind that any of it was his.

I tossed them into the quiver quickly and loaded a new one, he grabbed my arm sharply and pulled me through the remainder of the field, we reached the top of the hill, my Dad's truck gone and a cloud of dust was all that remained.

I couldn't help the little bit of disappointment that washed over me even though it had been my decision, my death wish.

"Ya' git used to it." He muttered, we walked through the last of the tall grass to where a black motorcycle was secluded. He hopped on and growled impatiently when I didn't move to get on immediatley.

"Well, what the hell you doin'? Getting on or stayin' ere?" He demanded, glancing back at me.

"I don't even fuckin' know you!" I yelled, turning away and looking back down at the farm.

"So, you don't want to live then? Suicidal?" He mocked, his tawny eyes narrowing.

"No, I just don't want t-"

That was whn the first walker emerged from the treeline twelve feet away, shuffling forward, another followed it, their heads snapping our direction, I really didn't have any other choices.

"You'll never be able ta fight em' all yerself." He called after me, breaking my concentration.

I battled back and forth in my head, before hopping on the bike, wrapping my arms around his torso as the idling engine roared and we tore off down the road, a cloud of dirt and grass flung back at the walkers, I ducked my head down when we drove under low branches.

What the hell did I just do?...

I felt pretty damn stupid for doing it, the only phrase that had been running through my head was kill or be killed. Not Survive or be saved.

I just lost my family, and out of my father's compassion for me, he gave me the weapon that could have been light and day between survival and death for them.

On top of that I almost became walker chow, got kidnapped by a rude stranger and was now being taken God knows where. I sent out my prayers to my family that they would be okay without me there. I bit my lip and looked ahead, I'd be lying if I didn't say I loved the motorcycle.

Before the apocalypse, I had one, still do at the house, I rode it often with my friends Ida-Gene and Josh. They were brother and sister. We'd ride on the unmarked roads so we wouldn't get caught... I also haven't seen them since the outbreak.

As the asphalt began to thin into a dirt road, I reminded myself why I was headed here anyways, but with some stranger that all I knew about him was that he was rude, brute and didn't talk for shit.

I was concerned, however. Where we were going, I didn't even know the man... Yet, I willingly hopped on the back of his damned motorcycle like no big deal, it was a very big deal actually.

I began mentally scolding myself for doing it, shoulda shot him square in the forehead as he approached. What if he was a murderer? A rapist, theif? But then again... Couldn't be much worse than the rest of the world is.

I looked down, he wore a black leather jacket, and on the back was a duel set of stitched on angel wings. The fabric fraying, tearing in places and had small blood splatter stains on it. It was stained with dirt and age, could use a little re-stitching, but I wasn't about to offer it.

I looked down at that patch for the majority of the ride, finding some kind of comfort in it, but call me stupid for thinking he was probably a nice guy just because he had angel wings on his jacket.

We pulled off onto an unmarked dirt road that went south, it ended in the middle of a thick stand of trees around a little white farmhouse. It was descreet, and no one would know it was here. My stomach started doing nervous flips as he cut the engine and we hopped down pushing the bike towards a shanty shed at the back of the house.

He lifted the door with one hand and pushed the bike in, knocking down the kickstand, he marched past me without a word and headed towards the farmhouse.

"Ya' comin'?" He called over his shoulder, pausing his march long enough to glance back at me.

I merely nodded and quickened my pace to catch up with him. He jogged up the farmhouse steps and held open the door as I ducked inside.

The room smelt musty, not a huge surprise but also not the most appealing smell.

It was decently clean inside though, which was the surprise. Had he been here prior and cleaned up?

"Rick, Shane, Glenn, Merle!" He yelled when he shut the door and I jumped at his loud voice. Quickly recovering when a man walked into the room with blondish hair in a buzz cut, blue eyes and all muscle.

His eyes narrowed as they darted over my face.

"Who the hell is this?" The man demanded, scrutionizing my face for emotion that had burned cold.

The one who brought me here shrugged, tossing his crossbow onto the couch.

"I fail to know that info myself."

Both men gawked at me. "Well, who the hell are ya'?" The one with the angel winged vest finally demanded after my silence overstayed it's welcome.

"Aries..." I said. My voice weak and hardly above a whisper. I cleared my throat quickly "Aries Collins."

"Daryl, that's my brother, Merle." He said after staring at my face a moment past his welcome when I'd spoke my name. I nodded limply.

"Nice to meet you." I said.

They say that people from Colorado are fast talkers and hard to understand. Mostly I'd disgress this, but as my words came in a rush, I felt my cheeks light up in embarrassment. Merle studied my face carefully, as though it'd help him figure out what the hell I'd said better.

I nodded once, confirming my words that I'd spoken well over a few minutes ago. Then more people joined us in the living room. Three men, Daryl introduced them each. A Koren man's name was Glenn, he smiled, which was a nice little bit of sunshine. Another just grunted, he had a buzz cut similar to Merle's. His name was Shane. The last he introduced was a man who had a scruffy beard and dark curly hair, his name was Rick. He smiled, seemed friendly enough, but had an authoritive aura about him. Which made me grateful someone knew what the hell was going on.

"This is Aries. Saved er' from some walkers." Daryl said, hardly glancing my way as he cleaned blood and dirt from his arrows with a bandana.

They all nodded, Rick, sensing my discomfort at being alone with a bunch of men, took the oppertunity to chat.

"Aries, just so you know, we're not all guys." He said as I looked around the room nervously, shooting him a confused look at how he worded it.

He shook his head and laughed "No, no I didn't mean it like that. We're not gay..." he paused to laugh nervously and shook his head to rid himself of the embarrasment. "but we're not gonna rape ya' either, we've got some girls with us as well, back at camp."

I found myself giggling at his comment instead of feeling awkward. "So this house isn't your camp?" I asked.

He shook his head "No, we've been holed up here last couple days, walkers left and right. But we've been on a supply run as well, so the whole trip hasn't been a waste."

I nodded, his words sinking in.

"Ok, I think it's time we made out move."

I looked up, Shane was looking out the from windows, gripping a handgun. His eyes scanning the treeline for threats.

"Hardly." Daryl grumbled "We can stay a lil' bit longer, we've got time,"

Shane glared at the back of his head "You just don't wanna go back because you have no one who misses you." He sneered.

Daryl stopped scrubbing his arrow and glared at the floorboards. "And you do?" He shot back. Shane shut up, it made me curious what their little scobble was about. But I decided against asking and being nosy.

We stayed at the farmhouse that night, Shane paced the windows so many times I could swear that I saw a trail forming in the floorboards.

"Would ya' stop yer goddamned fidgiting?" Daryl asked a little while later, directing his glare at Shane, who paused long enough to glare back.

"Would you stop being a goddamned redneck if I did?" Shane demanded childishly. Daryl just rolled his eyes instead of getting offended. I watched them while Glenn took inventory of what supplies they had gathered. I wasn't trusted. Everyone in the group made that outstandingly clear. Rick wouldn't trust me to carry around my bow, so he confiscated it for time being. Saying some bullshit about me needing to prove myself first.

I carved small designs into the floorboards with my knife while I sat crosslegged beside Glenn, if he had any annoyance towards the sound of the blade's constant impact againt the wood, he didn't show it.

The sun finally set and we sat in most darkness, except for the small lantern Glenn counted by, everyone stood on guard around the room like statues, except for Shane. Who still paced relentlessly.

I'll admit, he was kinda annoying me too.

"Aries, I dunno what kind of group you come from, but ere' y'aint obligated to staying up all night. Git some rest, we head out tomorrow morning." Daryl said, breaking the silence and hardly making eye-contact with me. I nodded slowly. I wasn't really tired now, more restless than anything and ready to argue him on it, but the others backed him up and agreed. So I laid on my back looking up at the ceiling just to please them, but was really trying to fight off my sagging lids.

"You know what?"...

"What?"

"This song sucks..."

I laughed and shoved her arm playfully.

"Don't... Don't hate on the song, it's like hating the baby of a bad relationship. It didn't get a choice on being created, if anything, blame the artist for having their legs spread." I laughed.

We leaned against splintery wooden posts that cut our propery away from the neighbors. The sky cloudy... It was really pretty, actually.

We were messing around, just hanging out like we would any other day, beneath the clouds, sweet peacefulness... Her car parked a couple yards away, all windows rolled down and doors wide open, music of the radio spilling from the speakers. We sang along to the lame choruses of pop songs like fifth graders. What point was there in growing up? What positive aftertaste it there? The best things in life are experiances during childhood. Anything beyond that is what our great-grandpa would call "Shitcreek..."

We just laughed...

Then I got woken by someone's annoying voice...


"Aries, git the hell up."

I felt someone's boot nudge my side and my eyes opened, I felt so exhausted that I might as well not have slept at all.

Daryl hovered above me, I couldn't make out his face at first due to the hazy light filling the living room and slipping through the shattered blinds.

I hardly yawned and hopped to my feet, searching around my resting place, looking for my weapons, hunting bag, my regular necessities... Then I remembered that my hunting bag was in the bed of my Dad's truck and my bow sat among the pile of other weapons in the corner.

"We're leaving in five." Daryl called, walking off, looking like a big-shit with his fancy crossbow across his shoulder, I guess he was one of the privledged ones to get to carry around such a hard to come by weapon.

I shook my head and checked my boot to be sure that I at least had my knife- to find the seath empty.

I looked around myself, panicked.

"Lookin' for this?"

I spun around and Merle stood there, flicking his index fingertip againt the blade of my knife.

"Morning Merle." I said.

He shrugged. "Nice knife. Shame I can't give it back to ya."

I narrowed my eyes at him "Why can't you?"

"'Cause when I joined the group, Rick didn't go lettin' me have weapons for a week, neither should you. Just unfair, don't you think?" He taunted.

I sighed "Please?"

"No cando lil lady, bosses orders." He grinned evilly.

"Merle, whatter you doin' to er'?" Daryl appeared out of thin air, standing right behind Merle.

"Jus inforcing group laws." He said smugly.

Daryl snagged the knife from his hands "Girl needs some way ta survive how's she s'posed to when you goin take all er' weapons?" Daryl demanded.

"Leave the work to the boys." Merle joked.

"Perv..." Daryl muttered, shoving his shoulder to get him moving, after Merle had walked off into the kitchen, Daryl approached me and handed by the knife simply.

"Don't let im' buffalo ya." He said simply.

I nodded slowly and took back the knife, gazing upon my tattered reflection in the scratched blade, I wondered how I even used to look.

Daryl left the room and left me to my thoughts.

It was late, almost my curfew. I was out, on a ride with Ida-Gene and Josh, my two best friends. We three each owned a bike, not just any bike, a motorcycle. We had spent the entire previous summer saving for the ones my uncle had and was selling. When we had saved enough, we were so happy, riding them was like a dream.

Mine was red, black and chrome. I rode alongside Josh on the pavment seven miles from my house, every other road was dirt for miles.

We were headed for no particular location, usually though, we'd turn before we hit the Breaks. It was this twisty road the went through some mountains, they call it that because you're stomping the brakes the whole way through.

There was no traffic, it was great... I was over fifteen miles from home, the air nice and warm...

Josh was eighteen, his sister Ida was seventeen. I was thirteen. Hardly old enough. But I road on their Dad's bike once and that's all it took to get me hooked on the idea of speed and wind in your hair and your crowded thoughts gone because you were too concerned worrying about your well-being to care about stressing out on everyone else.

It was just the kind of therapy I needed.

I decided to tell Josh and Ida I was ditching, I tossed a glance over my shoulder before changing lanes, quickly realizing that they were nowhere to be seen. I growled curse words under my breath and got off onto the shoulder. The sun was setting and a dim light guided me down the empty roads, I felt nervous, it was dark, empty roads stretching for miles, shrouded by a few trees. I slowed down to fifteen miles an hour, cruising along waiting to see a familar face when something lept from the trees along the road and I hit it.

Panicking, I stopped, engine idiling and adrenaline pumping.

Move you idiot... I thought to myself.

Move, move move...

I squinted at it, it scrambled to it's feet and snarled at me, it's breath smelled of death and made my stomach recoil and I resisted the urge to puke.

It was human, I could tell that much, but blood spurted from it's open wounds and half it's face gone. I knew it could be a prank, but it felt pretty damn real... I stared back in horror at the beast as it lunged at me, I acted on instinct and stomped on the gas, tires squealing as I ground it's foot into the asphalt and I tore off, my breath heavy and panicked, it took all my self control to keep my eyes on the road and to resist glancing over my shoulder repeatedly.

I drove straight home, giving up my search for Ida-Gene and Josh. I saw several more of those things while I pushed the gas pedal farther and farther.

My mind raced for logical explanations, I quickly came to terms that there were none. None that I knew of and how to fix it. What if it isn't fixable? That was my main concern. I invisoned those post-apocalyptic cities in those movies I'd watch every Saturday night on Chiller, I was such a zombie buff. Yet... Everything about these zombies went against everything I knew from those movies.

I had never been so scared in my life, but I wasn't just scared for myself, but for my family. What if they had no idea? No idea what these things were and how to protect themselves? That's what scared me the most and made me fly straight home.

I had droplets of blood staining my Bring Me the Horizon tee, and the smell of rancid death hung all over me like an aura, a perfume, clinging to me and constantly I had to ignore the urge to veer off the road and puke. The smell was putrid, I later learned the smell to be the perfume of the walkers, and Ida-Gene and Josh? Well... I never saw them again.


"Oi, little miss day-dream, help pack."

I snapped away from my thoughts and looked up to see Daryl walk by carrying a box of canned goods to one of the two cars parked outside the farmhouse, just below the faded white steps.

I recovered quickly and offered Glenn my assistance, he smiled gratfully.

"Some people are just lazy." He said, shooting a glare at Merle's back as he leaned against the wall picking dry blood and dirt out from under his fingernails.

"Yeah." I laughed quietly, permitting myself a smile as I scooped up a box in my arms.

We finished packing fairly quickly, Rick did a quick look over to make sure we hadn't forgotten anything and we headed out to the cars.

Glenn drove one car, the entire car held all the supplies and the one seat was the one he sat in, he directed me to the next car, which Rick and Shane were in, I got into the backseat, not in the mood to be conversational and take the seat between them, I looked out the window and saw Daryl and Merle arguing over who drives the chopper and who takes passenger.

"It's my damn bike!" Merle fumed. Clenching and unclenching his fists, looking a lot like a child about to throw a tantrum.

Daryl rolled his eyes and tossed the keys at his brothers face, stalking off towards our car.

"Where the hell you goin'?" Merle called after him.

"Not with you, that's fuckin' for sure." Daryl called back.

Merle glared after him in frustration, but proceeded to mount his bike and start it's noisey engine. The sound of the bike's idling engine sent a wave of nostalgia my way and I recalled how it felt to ride on a open stretch of road.

I still have my bike, locked away inside my dad's garage. He said we'd never be able to find enough gas to keep the thing running, but that doesn't mean I let it turn to rust and scrap metal in the corner under a sheet, either. I would still sneak out there after I finished my chores and clean it up, wipe it down until I could see my own reflection in the scratched crimson paint.

I kept my eyes down as the opposite door flew open and slammed behind the steaming man, that's the last thing he needed, was me watching him.

"What're you lookin' at?" Daryl demanded. I looked up on instinct, to see his eyes burning holes into the rearview mirror, where Rick met his gaze.

"Nothin'." Rick said, his voice cracking. Not with sadness, but the way your voice cracks when you're trying to hold back laughter.

"Stop yer damn gigglin' fuckin' princess." Daryl sneered, glaring out the window.

The Shane started to chuckle, and then T-dog, the look Daryl shot them each was the death glare with an added ten volts. They shut up quickly.

I looked out my window, Merle pulled up alongside us, I hadn't seen him leave on a perimeter run. But he was back.

"Border's clean." He announced boredly.

Rick nodded "Good, lets get this show on the road."

Glenn took off first, then us, then Merle followed behind us. I noticed Daryl fidgiting uncomfortably with his brother being in back, but his face was a blank slate for caring at all.

Must be a thing that runs in his family... not to have any emotion.

"Aries." Rick called, I looked up and met his eyes in the mirror, he had a big grin across his face.

"When we get back to camp, you get to meet the girls. And Maggie, I think you'll like her."

I nodded, having no idea who he was talking about but was trying to be polite.

"And Rick's gotta son, his name's Carl." Shane said, turning around in his seat.

I looked at Rick's face again, his skin tanned and scarred, either it'd seen too much sun or too much life.

I looked out the side window as the bleak country scene slipped away and my thoughts once again went out to my family.
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I know... It's terrible right now XD It gets better once the characters become better known.