Rick had been in Alexandria precisely two weeks when he began planning his departure.

The transition from life on the outside to life in Alexandria had been difficult to make, Rick still slow to trust anything and anyone in their newfound oasis. Even when their group had dispersed among the two houses and began sleeping in actual beds, they had not been able to relax for long. As they had all suspected, the Alexandrians were too sheltered for their own good. They hadn't seen what it was like on the outside, nor did they understand what had happened to the world. Deanna talked about the future, about the civilised society she wanted them to help her build, but Rick doubted she had been outside the walls since the day they were erected. Until she spent some more time outside, and began to understand the way in which the world worked, her dreams of civilisation were a fool's errand.

On the outside, Rick trusted her leadership. On the inside, he was biding his time.

But despite this, Rick had given Alexandria the seal of approval, encouraging his group to settle in and make themselves at home. They had all been given jobs to do, responsibilities they would be accountable for in order to pull their weight. Each of them had accepted their roles wholeheartedly, knowing that it was a necessary part of fitting in. Slowly, they settled in. Deanna's party, despite the frustration of actually having to attend and make small talk, had helped. Nevertheless, there was a distinct divide between the two groups, the Alexandrian's and those now affectionately known as the Grimes'.

A simple conversation was all they needed to remind them of the differences, of how sheltered these people were. It was difficult not to hold it against them, to not hate them for it. But behind their facade of lovely houses and nice meals, Rick knew that Jessie Anderson had been right when they talked the night of the party. These people had suffered loss too…still, it was difficult not to see the divide.

Daryl was a force unto himself. Coming and going as he pleased, Aaron was the only Alexandrian he spared more than a grunt of acknowledgement for. As Rick expected, Daryl spent more time outside the walls of Alexandria than inside. He preferred to hunt and keep an eye on the outside, rather than sit idle in a fancy house he would never really call his own. It was clear that Daryl was more comfortable outside, where he had already proven himself useful and necessary time and time again. Inside the walls he felt redundant, unnecessary. When he wasn't hunting, he tried to occupy himself looking after Judith, never complaining about her dirty diapers or incessant cries from cutting new teeth.

Carl too had struggled to settle in. Rick watched his son conflict with his new routine every day, grappling as he tried to find the balance between staying strong and allowing himself to actually live. Though he obediently went to school along with Ron, Mikey and Enid, he did so only to appease Rick. Just like Daryl, Carl was struggling to find his place in Alexandria. At fourteen, he was torn between being a boy and being a man, still figuring out how much of each he wanted to be.

The first day that their group had dispersed among the two houses, Rick had simply passed Carol his pack and asked her to delegate he, Carl and Judith where ever best suited. His only stipulation was that Judith be with him, wanting her close at night the way she always had been. When he had returned to the main house that afternoon, he had been surprised to find his few belongings in the master bedroom, Judith already napping in her portable crib. What surprised him most, however, was his son's hat on the other side of the king sized bed.

"Apparently we're sharing," Carl commented as he walked past the door. "I'm going to play pool at Mikey's…I'll be back by sundown."

It made sense on the surface that he and Carl share, especially with Daryl, Carol and Michonne occupying the other three bedrooms. However when Rick had asked Carol about it later, she quietly explained that Carl had requested they share. Rick didn't object to his son's request, knowing where it stemmed from. After living together on the road for so long, the idea of sleeping in a room alone must have felt foreign to Carl…it certainly felt that way to Rick.

The first night of Judith sleeping in a crib and not in his arms had been strange enough. Then in the master bedroom, Judith's crib against the wall was just too far away. When night fell Rick moved her crib right beside his bed, wanting to have her within arms reach. Spending so many weeks on the road, lacking a proper routine and internal clock, Judith tended to rouse in the middle of the night, alone and frightened in her crib. It hadn't taken long for Rick to develop the habit of bringing her into his arms at night, settling her into the bed between he and Carl. She wasn't used to sleeping alone, having not done so for quite some time. Rick preferred having his children sleeping close by, their synchronised breathing bringing him comfort in the darkness. Though he wouldn't mention it aloud, letting Carl pretend he was just going with he flow, Rick suspected he requested their arrangement for the same reason Rick hadn't protested it.

Overall, Rick had to admit things were going well, although there was one small exception. Barely a day inside the walls, Glenn had unintentionally started a power struggle between himself and Aidan Monroe, both men refusing to budge from their argument. Their first foray outside as a supply run group had not gone well, Aidan and Nicholas quickly making their negligence and poor attitude frighteningly obvious. It was clear to everyone who was right and who was wrong. Deanna had thanked Glenn for knocking her son on his ass…approval came in no clearer form than that.

But still the power struggle existed, Tara and Noah backing Glenn while Nicholas backed Aidan. It was two weeks of tense glares and loud venting behind closed doors before Rick finally put his foot down. For the sake of peace, Rick had told Glenn in no uncertain terms that he needed to make amends with Aidan, no matter who was right or wrong.

"All you have to do, is turn up with this," Rick told him, handing Glenn a bottle of Jim Beam. "It's a universal apology, without the apology."

"Olivia gave you this?" Glenn asked in awe, taking the bottle while Daryl eyed it reverently from the other side of the living room. "Why?"

"I asked her nicely."

"As if," Glenn quipped. "She won't give booze to anyone. You flirted."

Shifting his weight uncomfortably, Rick looked around to make sure Carl wasn't in ear shot. "It was like shooting fish in a barrel. Now get Tara and Noah, and go get trashed with Aidan."

Eight hours later in the middle of the night, while Rick was awake with Judith, he had heard Glenn's return home. With Judith grumbling unhappily, Rick bounced her and rubbed her back as he paced the kitchen. He knew his little girl well…she either needed to puke or poop, she was just taking her damn time about it. Well rehearsed in the sick child scenario, Rick had everything ready. Cloths, a bucket, spare diapers…being unprepared was not an option. Just like her brother, Judith had proven herself to be adept at projectile vomiting. Feeling her unhappy tummy rumbling with gas, he patted her back as she started burping, large tears rolling down her flushed cheeks.

Hearing a commotion outside, Rick had wandered over to the french doors and looked out onto the street. Seeing torchlight approaching, he draped a jacket around Judith and then stepped outside to see what it was. Smiling in amusement, he watched as Reg escorted three drunks home safely, Noah and Tara arm in arm as they staggered up the the gutter towards the second house. Glenn seemed only marginally better off, managing to walk on his own and help the others up the front steps. Shaking his head at them, Rick raised his hand to Reg in thanks, and then went back inside.

A few minutes later as he was helping Judith sip some soda water, he heard unsteady footsteps on the front steps announcing Glenn's arrival. He let himself in, their group seeing no difference in who each house belonged to, and he greeted Rick with an unsteady nod of the head.

"Hey," Glenn sighed, sinking into a stool at the island bench.

"Hey." Pouring him some soda water too, Rick passed it over to him. "Can I trust you with a glass, or would you like Judith's sippy cup?"

"Ha ha…"

"Something on your mind?"

Glenn groaned, taking a small sip and then groaning again. With his elbows on the bench, he rested his forehead in his hands. "Rick….I did something bad…something really bad…Maggie's gonna kill me."

"What did you do?" he asked in concern, worried. "You didn't make out with Aidan, did you?"

"No…oh God, I think she'd prefer that."

"Go on then."

Sighing, Glenn raised his head, frowning as he noticed Judith. "What's wrong with her?"

"Sick…Come on, tell me what you did."

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," he began, trailing off with a drunk laugh.

"Glenn."

"Alright. You told me to make nice with Aidan. So I made nice with Aidan."

Rick looked at him expectantly. "What do you want? A pat on the back? Gold star?"

Pausing for a moment, Glenn grimaced and gave a low burp. "Aidan's talking about doing a supply run…I may have volunteered."

"Well, you are a supply runner."

"Yes…but this supply run is…what's the word I'm looking for?" he asked, looking at Judith. "Extended."

"How extended?" Rick asked suspiciously.

"A couple weeks."

Rick's stomach clenched at this, not liking it already. His first thought was to say no, to tell Glenn he wasn't doing it as though he were a teenager asking to go to the movies. He had to remind himself, and the others too, that being the leader of his group didn't mean he was their boss. They were grown adults, and could do as they pleased…but there was the unspoken understanding that if Rick asked them to do something, or to not do something, they would. The moment Glenn said a couple of weeks, Rick immediately wanted to tell him not to go, to withdraw his offer.

"Okay…where?"

This was when Glenn got coy. The amount of alcohol Rick could smell on him made lying more difficult, and he predictably looked away as he answered. "Just, you know…south."

"South where?"

"…Georgia."

Rick narrowed his eyes, coming to the conclusion himself. "To West Georgia Correctional Facility?" he asked angrily.

It was then that Judith puked.

Though he claimed parenthood had prepared him for all sorts of bodily fluids, Rick was forced to admit he couldn't handle the chain reaction that followed. Already cringing at Judith's puke through his hair and down his shirt, Rick drew the line as Glenn began puking too, Judith echoing him by filling her diaper with a loud, squelching poop. Covered in vomit and calling out to Carol for help, Rick's heart was somewhere in the bottom of his queasy stomach. He knew Glenn…even worse, he knew enough about Aidan. The idea was in their heads now…a supply run back to the prison would be in the works, and there was little Rick could do to stop it.

He and a bleary eyed Carol had made quick work of cleaning up the mess, finally settling a very apologetic Glenn onto the couch to sleep it off. Handing Judith off to Carol for a few minutes, Rick took a hasty shower and tried to think over what Glenn had told him, trying to understand the reasoning behind such an absurd suggestion. The prison was almost a thousand miles away. They had almost died trying to make it to Alexandria, and now Glenn wanted to repeat the journey there and back? Praying to God it was just a drunken idea they would all laugh about tomorrow, Rick redressed and returned to Carol, who was curled up on one of the arm chairs with Judith asleep in her arms.

It was the middle of the night, and the idea was probably nothing more than a drunken idea, but Rick found himself relaying it to Carol, needing to hear what she had to say. As Glenn snored on the couch, Carol listened with the quiet wisdom they had come to expect from her, agreeing with him in all the right places.

"I've heard talk about this," Carol said softly, stroking Judith's hair. Seeing that he was surprised, she gave him an apologetic smile. "I told you I'm invisible. Maggie was watching Judith while she worked with Deanna…I came to pick her up and heard Aidan and Nicholas talking it over."

"What were they saying?"

"That there're plenty of towns they've checked out. North Carolina is practically untouched, it fell in less than two days. They want more weapons, more food…equipment."

"And there's none of that left in Washington?"

"I'd say there's plenty left…but if they have the means…"

"They don't have the means. They have Aidan, Nicholas and Glenn."

"If Glenn goes, Tara and Noah will too."

"And they'll get themselves killed."

"Perhaps…maybe you should go with them. Make a proper go of this."

"No," he shook his head. "It's suicide. We're safe here…going back out there, we'd be risking everything."

"There's a lot to gain."

"What? Stuff…things?"

"We left a lot behind at the prison…aside from our supplies and weapons, there're all our personal things. Photo's of Lori," she concluded, gesturing down at Judith.

Rick glared at her. "Don't say that to Carl…he's upset enough about leaving behind her photograph as it is."

Carol just nodded. "There's something else there too, Rick."

"What's that, huh? What could possibly make it worth going over a thousand miles and risking our lives, just for some supplies we can get here?"

"Some of our people might have gone back to the prison. The Woodbury folk…Morgan."

Rick faltered at this, and it was clear by Carol's expression that she knew how close to home she had hit. Morgan, the man who had saved Rick from being eaten by Walkers the day he awoke from a coma…he could still be there, hiding out in King County. He pondered this for a moment, selfishness overriding every argument he had just made. A few minutes passed in silence, Rick not approving of the route his heart was taking him down. Not the slightest bit reassured, he took Judith into his arms and kissed her cheek as she roused.

"You weren't meant to convince me," he told Carol sternly, heading for the stairs.

"Sorry, Sunshine."

He had been in Alexandria precisely two weeks when he began planning his departure. The next morning Aidan and Nicholas answered the questions Rick put to them, even with sore heads and queasy stomaches. They explained every detail of the idea they had been planning for months. The only reason they hadn't put it into place was a shortage of people power. As a last ditch effort to nip this whole idea in the bud, Rick had turned to Deanna, hoping she would put her foot down and refuse to let her youngest son enact such a stupid plan. But she didn't, and was surprisingly in favour of it. Increasingly uncomfortable with it all, Rick requested a few days to think it over, having depended on Deanna to be the voice of reason and veto the whole idea.

The decision couldn't be made on his own. He wasn't that leader any more, and so he put the idea to the rest of the group. Letting Glenn take the lead, they had gathered in the main house and began discussions, seeking everyone's opinions. All in all it only took twenty minutes of discussion. It came as no surprise that Daryl's interest was aroused by their supply run, that he was the first to volunteer, and the only one to do so with enthusiasm. Working quickly and with ease, the group divided itself into two, ensuring that the strongest members went on the supply run, while still leaving appropriate strengths behind to continue protecting Alexandria. Finally the question of Rick's position came into question. Hoping he didn't come to regret this, he agreed that he too would go. If he was going to allow his group to put themselves in danger, he was going to be right there with them.

With the hardest decisions made, Rick had returned to consult with Deanna. There was no time to be diplomatic, and so Rick laid out his conditions.

"Abraham and Aaron are in charge of logistics…Aaron knows the roads and towns, where we can get gas. I am in charge overall," Rick told Deanna, Aidan and Nicholas, the four of them awkwardly standing in her living room. "Those are my conditions. Take them, or leave them."

"What about us?" Aidan asked, not hiding his annoyance. "What are we in charge of?"

"Nothing. You're guests."

Their reaction, though not unexpected, didn't further Rick's faith in them.

"It was our idea," Nicholas argued angrily. "It's our supply run."

"This isn't middle school. It doesn't matter whose idea it was," Rick told them. "If you want to go and do this on your own, I wish you luck. But if you want people power from my group, you'll be doing it my way."

"Seriously? That's it?"

"That's it."

Deanna intervened before they could argue any more, her skilled diplomacy keeping the peace. "I think Rick makes a very fair proposition. They're his people, so it's his call."

That conversation had been two weeks ago. Since then, their preparations had been almost non-stop, planning meetings running into the night. By the time their departure came, every member of the group knew exactly where they were going, exactly what towns they were passing through, where they would find gas, and what alternate routes they could take if they were taken by surprise.

They had departed three days ago, and were presently somewhere in South Carolina, not too far from the Georgia border. The leather steering wheel felt infallible under Rick's calloused hands, the vehicle a natural extension of himself. He felt peaceful behind the wheel, content to be in his preferred position, the driver's seat. Glancing at his son in the rear vision mirror, Rick was amused to see him fast asleep, his mouth gaping and his head lolled against the window. He had insisted on keeping Michonne company while on watch duty last night, still trying to prove himself useful on this supply run.

When the announcement had been made that Carl would accompany them on the run, most Alexandrian's had outright questioned Rick's sanity, not understanding why he would take his child out of a safe home and put him in danger. Rick hadn't bothered explaining himself, not to anyone outside of his group anyway. He hadn't come to the decision lightly, and frankly it went against everything he thought he knew as a parent. When discussion of the supply run had begun, Rick had carefully scrutinised Carl's reaction, knowing what he would see in his expression.

Excitement and desire crossed his face first, quickly followed by a sad realisation that he wouldn't possibly be allowed to go. Subsequent to that had been a resolute determination, a flicker of strong will and a plan coming to mind. Carl had played it smart, feigning disinterest even as Rick knew he was sitting at the top of the staircase eavesdropping on their conversations. From that day onward, Carl had been on the best behaviour of his entire life. Though he was generally well behaved in the first place, not one instruction was disobeyed, and not one hint of teenage rebellion surfaced. He even stopped scaling the walls and sneaking outside, a dangerous habit that Rick was well aware of.

Three days before their planned departure, when Carl's good behaviour had everyone who knew him well questioning his health, he finally cracked. Dropping the sandwich he was partway through eating, Carl had blurted out his request, startling everyone present.

"Dad, I want to go with you!" he practically shouted. "To the prison. I want to go….Please."

Having not expected him to hold out that long, Rick was secretly proud of how long he had lasted. "No."

"But I'll do whatever you ask me to do, and I'll be on my absolute best behaviour, ever!" he bargained. "I'll wear the riot gear when you tell me to, and I'll stay in the car when you want, and I won't ever run off, and…"

This had been his plan all along, to let Carl come up with his own negotiations in such a way that he saw them as bargaining tools, not restrictions. Unwittingly, Carl imposed the rules upon himself, not realising that Rick had already spoken to the others about Carl coming with them, seeking their approval. Knowing his son the way he did, Rick knew he couldn't leave him behind. Carl needed closure, a chance to say goodbye to his last home so that he could settle into his new one. Aside from that, Rick couldn't bear the thought of leaving without him. Knowing that Carl snuck outside the walls from time to time was a major factor. Though he would be safe left behind with the others, Rick couldn't ask them to be responsible for a teenager who continually put himself in harm's way. If Rick left him behind, he couldn't supervise him. Despite the risks of taking his child back out onto the road, the risk of leaving behind didn't feel significantly lower.

"…and if you tell me to run and hide, I will, Dad," Carl promised sincerely, completely abandoning his food. "If you tell me to leave you, and to save myself…I will. I promise."

Pretending to consider his request, Rick spoke four words that he knew would leave Carl hanging desperately. "I'll think about it."

Pulling on his Constable's blazer and kissing Judith goodbye, Rick had departed to make his rounds of the walls, giving Carl stern instructions to not be late for school. He had let Carl agonise over the decision until the day before their departure, when the two of them discussed the conditions of his blessing. Presently they were three days into a two week journey, and so far Rick had not come to regret his decision.

So far.

Leaving Alexandria had been more difficult than any of them anticipated, their group willingly splitting in half for the first time since they had started out for Washington with Eugene. Following Rick and Carl outside the gates were Daryl, Glenn, Michonne, Abraham and Rosita, needing to take their absolute strongest members. Though Carol would have liked to go with them, such a desire conflicted with her newfound persona of sweet den mother. Left behind, Carol carried on her role by taking Judith under her care.

Gabriel and Eugene had not been invited, and though he knew she was more than capable of handling herself, Rick had not been confident to take Sasha. Even now, behind the safety of Alexandria's walls, Sasha was unravelling, not coping with the losses of Bob and Tyreese. She was better off left behind, spending her days in the watch tower inflicting revenge on Walkers that came too close. Despite her apparent instability, Rick was confident in Sasha's ability to keep an eye on the place, knowing that she had Tara, Noah and Maggie who were also capable. At Rick's request, they too had stayed behind, not because they weren't wanted on the supply run, but because they were needed elsewhere. It was still a difficult concept to wrap his head around, that he was separating his group and taking them away from each other, Maggie and Glenn in particular, but a necessary decision that fell to him alone.

Thinking of Judith, he remembered about how difficult it was to finally relinquish her to Carol. As much as taking Carl with him went against his instincts, so too did leaving Judith behind. He knew Carol could care for her more than adequately, but the possibilities of all the things that may happen scared him. He might be killed during this supply run…or he might return to find Alexandria overrun, his precious daughter gone once again. With their vehicles ready to depart, Rick lingered with Judith in his arms, his nose buried in her sweet smelling hair.

"The smell of an infant is essential to maintaining the bond between parent and child," Eugene commented to Carl, who was saying goodbye to Tara. "It stimulates the reward centre in the brain the same way addictive drugs and sexual intercourse does."

Rick raised his eyebrows at this, wondering why Eugene was trying to ruin this moment for them. "Thanks Eugene…Carl's never going to smell his sister the same again."

"I apologise. I see now the latter remark may have been inappropriate in the presence of a fourteen year old. On the same note, Carl…if we were to blindfold your dad, and line up you, Ron and M-"

"We'll miss you too, Eugene," Carl smiled, giving him a quick hug.

They had departed soon after that, Rick not wanting to give Eugene any more opportunities to put his foot in his mouth. Taking one last moment with Judith, Rick kissed her cheek and passed her over to Carol, wondering how much she would change in the two weeks he was gone. She had just cut her third tooth the previous day…how many would she have when he returned?

So far their trip had been smooth, knowing that the roads in the immediate area were free of blockages and various other hazards. Aaron was generally accustomed to the various highways they were taking that trip, knowing what was blocked and what towns would have abundant gas left in their stations. Their route and optional detours were planned in advance. Assuming they travelled only during the day when visibility was greatest, they ought to reach the prison tomorrow afternoon, their fourth day.

Allowing for two to three days there to strip the prison and check out King County, the four day return trip should round them out at about eleven days. Deanna knew not to expect them any earlier than that. Although there would be no use worrying about something they couldn't control, it was an unspoken understanding that if they were much longer than that time frame, there was cause for concern.

Deep in thought about how he was going to break Judith away from her new security blanket, the ratty brown shirt he had worn on the road, Rick didn't hear Aidan's voice coming across the handheld radio. A dim thought in the back of his mind was briefly aware of it, but didn't push him to actually acknowledge that something had been said. Even as Abraham and Aaron replied to him from the other cars, Rick still didn't pay attention.

"Rick?" Daryl said, nudging him. Sprawled out in the passenger seat, his muddy boots up on the dashboard, he looked awfully comfortable. "You hear 'em?"

"Hear what?"

"What Aidan said…there's a person."

"What person?" he said dimly, looking at Daryl in confusion. "Where?"

"On the fucki-" Daryl began, gesturing wildly to the road. "Right there!" he shouted.

Looking around, Rick panicked as he saw a figure standing in the middle of the road ahead. In the back of his mind, the word person lingered, that being the only reason he didn't just run them over. Certainly it was safer to just hit them than to swerve and collide with a tree…but the knowledge dictated his actions on his behalf. Laying on the brakes, he swerved around the motionless figure and blessedly missed them, hitting the gravel on the side of the road. The tyres squealed loudly, dust kicking up behind them as he focused on maintaining the vehicle's trajectory, on making sure he didn't slam them all into a tree.

Coming up to meet the road again, he pulled the car back onto the centre line and brought it to a skidding stop, the occupants lurching in their seat belts. There were gasps and swearing as Glenn and Carl tried to orient themselves in the backseat, having awoken with a hell of a fright. Collecting his wits, Rick gripped the steering wheel and took a slow breath, unable to believe what had just happened, what he had managed to avoid. Glancing up into the rear view mirror, he observed the figure that still stood motionless, as if they hadn't just been almost hit by a car. Their stillness was the only indication that they were human, not a Walker.

Scrutinising their shape, Rick deduced that it was a woman, though it was difficult to determine what kind of state they were in. Unless his eyesight was beginning to fail him, the woman appeared completely filthy, covered head to toe in…in something. There was a brief moment when she lurched forward before freezing, as though trying to stop herself running towards them. The next thing she started moving, her movements slow and unsteady until she broke into a desperate run. Everyone in the car had turned back to look at her, watching as she drew closer. Letting the car idle, Rick glanced over at Daryl.

"Aidan said not to pick her up," he commented, his expression neutral.

"Aidan's not in charge," Rick commented, turning around to look at Glenn now. "We are."

Trying to gauge their thoughts, he looked between Daryl and Glenn, needing to know what they were thinking. Rick was no stranger to ignoring people who needed him, he had done so many times over. But that didn't mean he had to make a habit out of it. Looking at the stranger, who was alone and without hope, Rick felt torn…he didn't know what to do. His hand reached for the door handle and then stopped, part of him reluctant to help her. They were three days into a dangerous supply run. They didn't need complications.

"Dad," Carl interrupted the heavy silence. He looked at his father from the back seat, his eyes wide. "We can't leave her."

Pride for his son surged inside him, knowing how kindhearted he was. He never shied away from trying to help other people. He remembered the days before Terminus, when Carl so desperately wanted to save that man being swarmed by Walkers, recalling the disappointment in his eyes when he and Michonne had dragged him away. Then there was Gabriel, and the way Carl insisted on running to his screams without regard for his own safety. Even though it was dangerous, even though it could one day get him killed, didn't Rick want his son to be like that? Herschel's question of what he wanted his son's life to be lingered in his mind every day. Didn't he want his son to care about other people the way he did now?

"Stay in the car," he instructed him, coming to a decision. Sharing one last glance with Daryl and Glenn, who showed no hint of protest, Rick opened his door. He stepped out and looked back, drawing his gun by his side as he looked at the woman.

She skidded to a stop, her whole body lurching forward with the momentum. Seeing what he held in his hands she immediately tensed up, her shoulder's hunching in fear. There was a long moment where the two of them just stared at each other until she lurched backwards, taking a few steps away from him. Her fear of him was evident, and she was clearing wondering what her glimmer of hope had gotten her into.

"Don't be afraid," Rick said calmly, trying to put her at ease.

His words seemed to reassure her. Shoulders that had been tense and hunched relaxed a fraction, before a moment later she relaxed with a long, slow breath. He watched as she seemed to come to a realisation, perhaps her mind slowly catching up with reality. After three other cars had passed her, someone had stopped.

Wondering what would happen next, Rick prayed he hadn't made a bad call.

The woman had been laying on the forest floor for almost two days now, a trance like state rendering her immobile. Completely motionless, her wasted body gave little indication that it was in fact living, that the heart inside continued to beat. It was too difficult to do anything else, too cruel to continue pushing her body when she had nothing to reward it with.

These days, all she did was wander. A pair of legs and a heartbeat, she made her way through the woods as best she could, her thoughts rarely wavering deeper than the need for food and water, any amount of which she could scrounge up. She had passed through towns and holed up in farmhouses, eating anything she could chew, even a lone can of cat food on more than one occasion. Though meagre and degrading, it had sustained her…but that's all it was. Sustainment. Her body was alive, her heart still pounding and her legs still carrying her, but there was nothing left of her.

She no longer possessed much concept of time, not paying attention to when the sun rose and fell. All she knew was that she had wandered these woods for months now. She had stopped counting the days, each one of them filled with the same lonely despair. Not even the weather served to indicate the passing of time. Each day and night were as cold and bleak as the one before it.

Laying there in the dense undergrowth of the woods, she reminded herself that it hadn't always been like this. She hadn't always wandered the woods day after day, completely abandoned by human kind. Even after the outbreak that had seen the dead rise, she had friends…some of whom she might even have called family. But now, being in complete solitude, she didn't think of them. Her mind, protecting itself from the agonising grief she wasn't ready to feel, never let her stray into thoughts deeper than the need for food and water. Despite this, the facts remained, carefully examined on the rare occasion that she found her head clear enough.

She was alone…everyone was gone.

Before this, she used to think about her old life often, amused by how frivolous and silly her problems had been. But now she could hardly remember her life before the outbreak at all, feeling as though it had belonged to someone else. She supposed it had. The person she had once been….that person was gone, just like so many others. Except she wasn't. Not really. She had just changed, metamorphosing into someone else entirely. She didn't recognise the woman that she had grown into after the outbreak…nor the woman she was now.

Her mouth was dry and sticky, the last drop of moisture she had received coming from a heavy downpour of rain the previous night. Within arms reach was her bottle of murky water, ready and available for her to drink. But she made no motion to pick it up, to provide her body with what it needed. In that moment, a scene flashed before her eyes as clear as if she had been there herself.

Your body can endure almost anything. It's your mind that needs convincing.

It was a motivational slogan, painted onto the wall of her too-expensive health club. Remembering it with grim satisfaction, she finally understood it's application. Her body endured no matter what, refusing to give up, refusing to let her die, and she knew now why she had survived so long. Her mind had closed itself down, shutting out all emotion and existing in a state where very little conscious thought occupied her time. Soon after losing the last member of her group, when she had found herself completely alone, she had simply stopped feeling. If she were forced to comprehend the true reality of what she had gone through, of what she had lost, she would have died months ago.

She had known for quite some time how to protect herself from Biters, how to hide the scent of a living body…she had only ever done it once before. But finding herself completely alone, with only a few meagre supplies pillaged from an abandoned car, she had no choice. Needing to protect herself, she had plunged her hands into the first rotting corpse she could find, smearing the blood and gore over her body as she tried not to puke the only food she'd eaten in days.

Acting without thought, she had covered herself in rotting flesh, spreading the revolting mess over her skin and clothing, and then finally through the blonde hair others had once admired so greatly. Her transformation took only minutes, though getting used to it took days. It worked of course. So long as she moved slowly and didn't make much sound, the Biters walked straight past her, or even along side her on many occasions. It hadn't taken long for her to realise what she had done to herself, to see that she had become nothing better than the monsters she fled from.

It was then that she started to shut down, needing to protect herself from what she had become. She stopped seeing herself as a person, knowing that just like the Biters, she wandered without purpose, seeking only that which would sustain her body. The weight of reality was too great to bear, too great to face. Just as the poster as her gym claimed, it was her mind holding her back, not the physical limitations of her body. Being completely mindless allowed her to sustain herself, to become nothing more than a set of legs and a heart beat. She didn't think…she didn't feel…she didn't dream. She just walked. On and on she went, trudging through the woods as days and nights came to pass.

In her brief moments of clarity, there was one thought that kept her going, one possibility that gave her a slither of hope in the awful darkness she had come to know as life. She needed someone…a person…a human being. Anyone would do. Covering herself in rotting flesh, spending the days walking among Biters who could turn on her at any moment, she felt completely inhuman. How could she not? She hadn't seen a single person in months…not since that particular night she tried not to think about.

Finding another person became her one beacon of hope, her one motivation to keep going. Though her mind continued to glaze over, her moments of conscious thought were filled with the desire to reconnect, to find comfort and intimacy with another human being. But even as this beacon of hope shone for her, guiding her to keep going, darkness was never far away. She was never going to find another person…there was no one left for her. After all, she hadn't seen a single person in months…What if she was truly alone in this world? What if there was no one else out there?

This was the dark thought that had brought her sinking to the ground days ago. In a brief moment of lucidity, the enormous weight of her loneliness came crashing down on her. The possibility that she might never find another person became all too real. Unprepared to handle such thoughts, her knees buckled and she fell to the ground where she stood.

There were incremental stages of surrender.

That day, she succumbed to everything. The notion of getting back to her feet and carrying on was non-existent. What would be the point? Why was she struggling if there was no end goal? She had nothing left inside…had nothing left to offer. She wanted to just lay there on the forest floor and and let nature take it's course. Death would be a blessing. Even if she were torn apart by Biters, she would finally be finished with this world. Stuffing her filthy hands into her mouth, she had sobbed for what felt like hours, exhausting what energy she had left until she fell unconscious. Sleep didn't grace her anymore…there was only conscious and unconscious, and she knew which one she preferred.

When she had next roused, it was raining heavily. Her mind had already reverted back to the blank slate of indifference she needed to survive. No longer possessing conscious thought, she allowed her body to act for her. As big, fat droplets of water fell onto her face, she slumped over onto her back and opened her mouth, capturing the falling rain to relieve her dehydration. Though her mind had surrendered, her body was not letting her give up.

Time progressed, the sun rising for a second time as she lay there on the forest floor, completely motionless. To her distress, she felt the cloud around her shoulders lifting, her mind allowing her to start thinking again. The rain had stopped. She was dry. That much she was able to comprehend as she rolled back onto her side and curled up, putting her thin hand underneath her cheek. Her vacant eyes stared at the root of a bush a few feet away, taking in the various textures and colours she could see. Time progressed a little more, and just as she felt herself slipping into another daze, something roused her again.

Still staring at the root of the bush, she listened as a Biter came shuffling her way. No doubt aroused by the change in light, Biters were always particularly active in the first few hours after dawn. Nevertheless, she was indifferent to its presence. It had been a long time since she had been afraid of Biters. At the start of the outbreak, everyone's focus had been on protecting themselves from the dead ones, on finding somewhere safe to lie low. Feeling her heart clenching, she remembered that it wasn't Biters she was afraid of. As much as she longed for human contact, it was them she feared.

Laying there in surrender, she was actually disappointed that the Biter didn't pay her any attention. Caked in blood and gore, it wouldn't notice her unless she made a sudden movement to attract it's attention, to indicate that she was in fact, alive. In spite of her earlier desire to have Biters descend on her and tear her limb from limb, she stayed still and waited for it to pass. Except today, it didn't.

Oblivious, the Biter bumped into the back of her ankle and tripped over. It landed heavily beside her, snarling and thrashing around as it tried to orient itself. Looking at it blankly, she observed the sunken features and bulging eyes. It wasn't all that old…a fresh one. In a moment that was bad luck and nothing more, the Biter looked straight at her, it's dead eyes flickering with interest. Though she saw the exact moment that it realised what she was, she was slow to act. It had already reached out for her, its hand clumsily smacking her cheek before she plunged her knife through the eye.

Laying there, she stared into the vacant eyes of death and relished the feel of the dead hand on her face. She remembered a time long ago, when in a life that didn't belong to her anymore, she would wake beside the man she expected to spend the rest of her life with. His hand had caressed her cheek just like the Biter's did, and she allowed herself to find comfort in this. Reaching up, she cradled the dead hand as though it actually belonged to her ex-husband, stroking the fingers tenderly. For the first time in months, she smiled.

Her moment of comfort was quickly broken, a small white maggot wriggling out of the ocular cavity she had just pierced. She watched it's progress down the Biter's face and onto the ground beside her, still wriggling and squirming. Looking back to the Biter now, she desperately tried to recapture the feeling she had only moments ago, needing that comforting thought of another person. But just like a pleasant dream that ended too soon, the comfort was gone.

For the first time in a while, she felt a flicker of will to live. The comfort she had found just then…she wanted that. She wanted it desperately, so much in fact that she found the strength to do something about it. Moving tentatively, she got to her feet after almost two days on the ground. Her body felt strange and foreign, as though her feeble limbs had never truly been hers. The tall, curvaceous shape she had once been proud of was gone these days, no longer attracting the attention and smiles of men everywhere. These days, her feeble body only attracted the attention of Biters and the type of men who didn't want to take her on a date. Struggling to her feet, she slowly stood up and looked down at herself, still unable to comprehend the metamorphosis that had occurred.

She didn't let herself think about it for too long. Taking her pathetically small knife back from the Biter, she made sure to smear some of the blood across the front of her neck. It had rained as she laid there on the ground, possibly diluting her only protection. Without thinking, she reached down and stuck her hands into the Biter's open chest, generously coating them in gore before anointing herself with it. She worked quickly, smearing blood across her collar bones and the sleeves of her thin sweater, finally working the last of it through her hair again.

Satisfied, she wiped her hands on the front of her jeans as best she could and then picked up her bottle of dirty water. Letting her mind drift back to nothingness, she slowly set off again, trudging through the undergrowth at a slow pace that let her blend in further with the Biters. Long ago she had lost the desire to run, to exert herself the way she used to back when she was human, not the monster she was now. Central Park…she jogged through Central Park on the weekends…with her friends. Clinging to that memory, she reminded herself that she had once existed as more than what she was now, that beneath the exterior she wore to protect herself, she had once been a person. She couldn't often remember that person…but for a few moments she might.

Another memory occurred to her, one of a phone call she hadn't returned. She used to think about that phone call often, but rarely since she had been on her own. Letting the memories flood back, she remembered her assistant looking into her office, informing her that her mother was on line three. By the time she had finished her conference call she was on, her mother was gone. Too busy, she hadn't called her back. Thinking about this again, she frowned as she tried to remember her mother's name. The mere concept of her mother was strange to think about, but the idea that she had a name was even stranger. The memories too painful to dwell on, she let her mind wander back to nothingness.

The morning dew left the leaves dripping wet, and she took frequent advantage of this. Her hands too filthy with Biter guts, she awkwardly sucked any amount of moisture she could get straight off the leaves, constantly looking at the trunks of each tree. Sometimes, if there had been rain, she would find a small trickle of water from which she could drink. Today though she continued to go thirsty, conserving the dirty water in her bottle for a time when she was even more desperate. God knew she had seen worse times that the present. Only a week ago she had been so dehydrated she couldn't even cry, her mouth dry and sticky as she sobbed in despair. She had depended solely on the morning dew until she came across a deep puddle on the ground, and she had finally been able to refill the almost empty water bottle she carried with her.

Shuffling through the undergrowth, she looked down at her filthy hands. She started picking at the dried blood on the back of her left hand, peeling it off and exposing the skin underneath. Trying to find connection to the person she used to be, she scratched out the letter C, wondering if she would ever have reason to use her name again. Looking at it as she walked, she admired the shape of the letter, having never appreciated the beauty of the simple curve that started her name.

Not letting her thoughts run much deeper than that, she lowered her hands and focused on where she was going, flinching each time the blisters on her left foot accidentally touched something rough on the ground. Large and painful, she wished she could drain the fluid…but she had nothing clean to wrap the open wounds with, and nothing clean to actually pierce the skin. Though she had only a basic understanding of how the Biter's infection truly worked, she knew it could be transmitted through broken skin. If she had an open wound, her filthy hands were more of a threat to herself than the Biters.

Not paying enough attention, her thoughts always wandering off or going completely blank, she was surprised to find herself on the side of a road. Slowly coming to a stop, she looked at it blankly, feeling completely detached from what it meant to her. It had been weeks since she had seen a road. Growing desperate in her search for water, she had headed into the woods for a short while, only to find herself disoriented when night fell faster than she expected it to. She had been lost then, wandering around the woods without purpose, without progress.
Stepping onto the road, she moved to the centre and looked at the white dotted lines. These lines had kept her steady for so long, guiding her down the road like a child following their parent. Without thinking, she planted her feet on either side of the white dotted line and looked down at it, her mind peaceful. She felt a strange emotion, one that took her a while to remember the name of.

Relief.

She hadn't felt relief for a long time. Pondering it, she stood stock still and kept looking down at the line, letting her mind wander again. Still thinking about that phone call she hadn't returned, she tried again to remember her mother's name…but it had been too long. As it had been for weeks now, her mind was too empty. She didn't quite know how long she stood there, but by the time she was next aware of herself, the sun had risen high, warming the back of her neck even as the cool breeze chilled her. Still looking at the white line between her sneakers, she took note of her shadow…it was mid morning.

Raising her head, she let the warmth of the sun caress her cheeks, remembering how much she used to love the outdoors. Though she loved her career…whatever it was, it kept her cooped up in a fancy office building. In her old life, fresh air and sunshine had been her crux, something she looked forward to. Thinking back to Central Park, and the jogging club she had frequented, she tried to remember how it felt…to be outside and not hate it the way she did now. It must have been different back then…it must have been beautiful.

A distant rumbling broke her from her thoughts, making her lower her face. The sloping rode broke into a crest, and there was no doubt in her mind that the distant rumbling on the other side was in fact, a car. As this dimly registered, she found herself moving backwards, her body acting automatically to move her out of harm's way. Relocating to the side of the road, where gravel met the asphalt, she raised her eyes up the slope of the road to watch the top of the crest, waiting.

A short while later a car emerged over the crest, it's engine echoing in the silence as it came flying towards her. With detachment, she watched as the grey minivan swerved a little, the driver clearly startled to see someone standing on the side of the road. Seconds later it passed her, quickly growing smaller with each moment. She laughed bitterly. Only a short while ago she had longed for the company of another person, needing human contact more than she needed water, and yet she found herself immobile. She should be running after them, waving her arms and using her voice for the first time in months…but she didn't. Still stuck in the trance like state that had occupied her for so long, she simply watched as it soared by.

It didn't matter anyway. What would she say to them if they did stop? Did her voice even work anymore?

Moments later a second car emerged over the top of the crest. A red sedan hurtled towards her now, and though it didn't swerve in surprise, it seemed to slow down a little as it passed her. Only mildly interested, her gaze followed as it passed her, hoping to catch the glimpse of a face. If she couldn't have human contact, then she would make do with just someone to look at, a face to memorise and cling to in her darkest moments. But just like always, she was robbed of this opportunity, the red sedan passing her and then speeding up again.

Just as she was about to sink down to the ground, another vehicle emerged, this one larger than the first two. A removal van with a business name "Two Men and a Truck" on the side, came soaring past her too. Just like the others, it was gone before she could catch a glimpse of the driver, before she could find the mental strength to raise her arms in a wave, to make her legs move and start chasing them down.

In utter disbelief, she finally was able to move. Watching as the removal truck disappeared around the bend, her feet slowly shuffled her back to the middle of the road where she stood and waited. She wondered if one of them would come back for her…if they were the type of people who would help her, or take advantage of her. She had come to know both types of people, the latter with startling familiarity.

Thinking back to the various people who had taken advantage of her over the last eighteen months, a small part of her didn't care who the people in the cars were. Letting her mind wander again, she imagined a scenario in which the three cars did some back for her. It didn't matter who they were, or what they wanted, she would go with them. She would do what ever they asked. She would get down on her knees for them. She would take off her clothes for them…anything.

Just as the thought occurred to her, she found herself spinning around, her instincts rousing her again. She didn't hear the fourth car until the last minute, the engine of this one quieter and less obtrusive on the silence that was her only friend. By the time she spun around it was almost too late. The large silver car was closing in on her, and in a moment that startled her more than anything had in weeks, she welcomed it to hit her. It would be quick, she told herself…she could finally stop.

But in a sick twist of fate, the car swerved and missed her, robbing her of a quick and painless death. Standing motionless, she turned on the spot and watched as the large car hit the gravel on the side of the road, dust blooming in an enormous cloud until the squealing tyres finally met the asphalt again. The driver slammed on the brakes and brought the car skidding to a stop, the rear brake lights shining like rubies.

There was a long moment in which nothing happened. Watching the car that sat motionless on the road ahead of her, she slowly came around to the idea that it had stopped. The cloudy fog that hovered around her head began to lift, making her feel as though she had literally just been placed back into the world again, like she was back in control. She could almost think now, could take decisive actions. A second later something inside her snapped…remembering what she wanted, that what she most desperately needed was human contact, she lurched forward hesitantly.

Taking the greatest leap of faith in her life, she began to run. It had been so long her legs almost didn't remember how to move with such speed, and she stumbled a few steps before she broke into a proper stride. The car sat idle, its red brake lights taunting her about how close it was. A long moment passed, her legs taking her closer and closer until something finally happened. The driver's side door opened, a tall figure stepping out and looking back at her.

Close enough to see the large silver gun the figure drew, she skidded to a stop, her whole body lurching forward with the momentum. Her mouth dropped and she looked at the gun in fear, wondering if they were going to kill her. It would be a cruel twist of fate, that her hopes be raised right before death welcomed her into his arms. There was a long moment, the man and the woman staring at each other. Panicking, she took a few steps back.

"Don't be afraid."

His voice was deep and smooth, his words flowing through her like a warm melody. Stopping, she looked at him reverently, waiting for him to speak again, for the few simple words he had spoken warmed her heart. He was real…he was an actual person. In the brief moment that they looked at each other, she could feel his eyes roving over her body, not to measure what he could take from her, but to assess her condition.

Recognising this as concern, she nearly fell over in disbelief, barely able to comprehend what it meant. This man was looking at her…truly looking at her. In that moment, she felt the burden lift from her shoulders, her mind bursting open like a flower that had waited all spring to finally bloom. She was waking up now…purely because someone was looking at her.

All it took for her to feel human, was for someone to look at her like one.