A/N: Howdy, hey, my fine folks! This is not an update for Lil'bit, but I can assure you that I am also working on that (I've just hit a lull in inspiration so it's taking a bit to get back into). This is something I wrote ages ago, but I'm re-writing it and making it not so terrible (first draft came out years before I could string a sentence together coherently). Also, I am always a slut for TWD. I'm super behind in the show, but I've been craving the beginning again. Hopefully some of my usual crowd also enjoys TWD! I know y'all might miss Aj, but she'll be back soon!

Episode #01:

Strangers

"No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it." –Terry Pratchett

"Hey!" The world felt hazy. Thoughts formed slowly and a slow burning pain spread all throughout my body. "Hey, you need to get up!" A voice called out to me. Male. Quiet. Muffled. It sounded like I was underwater, and the voice was speaking from above. "Can you hear me?"

My eyes fluttered open and morning light greeted me along with a clear blue sky. A face hovered over mine. Square in shape with a freshly shaven jawline. His mouth was pulled tight in concentration and his eyes were blue. A shade nearly the same as the sky. Dark hair was hidden under a wide brimmed hat. A sheriff hat. "I'm going to help you sit up. It might hurt."

Warm hands gripped under my shoulders and slowly pushed me into a seated position. A small cry of pain slipped from my lips as apologies spewed from his. I was facing a car now. A red two door, though one was missing entirely. The car was flipped over and my lower half was stretched across the roof. Jeans, ripped and bloodied, clothed my legs. One foot, my left, was covered in a dark brown boot while the other only had a black ankle sock.

What had happened?

The same hands quickly hooked under my arms and pulled me out of the destroyed vehicle. I barely managed to hold back the hiss of pain that built up in my chest. It took every bit of my concentration to do so and my sole thoughts surrounded the aches and pains that I could feel as the stranger dragged me away from the crash.

What the hell was going on?

There were scratches all along my arms and hands. All minor, but they were prominent enough that the stinging pain clouded my thoughts. The plain, dark blue t-shirt I wore was covered in splotches of dark red like a demented Rorschach test. Suddenly, my attention was yanked away from the odd, random shapes of blood as the man forced me to an upright position.

"Watch the glass." He said as he helped me limp over to where a police car was parked across the empty road. Carefully, I kept my dizzy gaze down and tried to place my shoeless foot away from the shards of glass and bits of twisted metal that littered the road. He sat me down sideways in the passenger seat softly. My legs involuntarily stretched out and a groan of relief bubbled out from my lips at the comfort the seat gave.

The scene before me looked like something out of a movie scene and my foggy mind made it feel like I wasn't even really there. It was an out of body experience. There was a totaled car, debris scattered across the road, and dark blood splattered against the gray asphalt. The put together man, still standing off to the side, stood out from the chaotic scene, yet at the same time somehow managed to fit in.

He wore a police uniform. It consisted of a tan, short sleeve button up with brown pocket flaps and a gold star on his chest. He wore brown pants with a holster around his waist carrying a large handgun.

He was an officer. He was supposed to be here.

The guy took his hat off and squatted down, "How are you feeling? Is your head alright?"

My thoughts continued to swirl around in my head in a haphazard manner. I couldn't focus on a single one alone, and anytime I tried it seemed to float away from my grasp.

My wandering gaze caught sight of a reflection in the front windshield and my focus snapped immediately to the many wounds that stood out like a beacon. A bloody gash above the left eye was the worst injury. Blood had dried around the area and clumped up in the dark blonde eyebrow below it. A bit further down a dark bruise highlighted the left cheekbone. To wrap it all up was a discolored, busted bottom lip. The injuries needed treatment. They needed care.

Who's face did the injuries belong to?

Was that-… Was that me?

My vision began to fade in and out as confusion overtook my mind. I looked at the windshield again, trying to find clarity, but my eyes focused on something beyond the strange reflection.

A human hand.

It was discolored and there was a piece of bone that stuck out of the wrist. I sucked in a sharp breath and suddenly I was no longer an observer to the world around me. I was here, in the moment, and I was scared as hell.

"There's a h-hand." The words fell out of my mouth in disbelief and shock. What did I do? What the hell had happened? "Did I-? My car…I-I-… Did I hit someone? I can't- I can't remember."

I choked back a sob as absolutely nothing came to mind. I had no answers. The man stood back up, looking to the forest line, and my eyes couldn't help but follow him in response. I wanted to look away, to bury my face in my hands and disappear entirely, but my gaze drifted back to the hand like a moth to a flame. As if the person could feel both our gazes, the hand slowly pulled back into the bushes.

"They're alive." I didn't bother biting back a single bit of the relief I felt. The person was still alive, but they must have needed help. I tried to push myself up and out of the seat, but a hand clamped down on my shoulder and forced me back down, "Hey."

I glared up at the officer in front of me, but a low gurgling sound made me turn and look back at the bushes. The top of a head slowly appeared as the person struggled to push him or herself out of the bush. A groan echoed through the air as the woman, judging by her long hair and thin shoulders, flopped out onto the side of the road. Her head bobbed side to side unsteadily before she was finally able to look up.

Her face was discolored, there was a deep gash across the side of her head starting at her left temple, and her entire lower jaw was missing. She let out a gurgling groan and the tongue that hung down from the gaping wound bounced against her throat behind it. A scream erupted from my throat before I could even try and comprehend what was happening. The warm hand on my shoulder squeezed tightly and I was vaguely aware of him trying to silence me with soft shushes and calm words, but I shoved his hand away and ignored him.

"What the hell is that!?" I yelled, "What the fuck!?"

"Please." The man hissed in urgency, "You have to be quiet."

He wanted me to be quiet? Did he see what was happening? Did he see that- that thing across the road from us? It crawled forward and began to rise up off the ground only to stagger onto the asphalt road with jerky movements. I screamed again. It was coming.

It was coming.

"Damn it." The man mumbled under his breath as he stepped around the open car door toward the monster. What was he doing? Like watching a train wreck in action, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the scene. He glanced up and down the road with his hand hovering over his weapon. The thing took a few more steps, these faster than the last, and as it reached the front of my broken car the man pulled out his weapon and fired. I jumped at the loud blast and saw the creature's head snap backwards while the back of its skull simultaneously exploded outward in shards of bone and brain matter. It collapsed to the ground without even a twitch.

I threw myself out of the car, landing on my hands and knees, and immediately threw up onto the asphalt. All I could hear was the sound of me gasping for air. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. Hell, I could barely think. I couldn't bring myself to stand back up. If I looked back over at the body lying in the middle of the road, would it slowly rise again? That couldn't have been a human. It sure as hell was human in shape, but the way it moved, the serious wounds that didn't even seem to bother it, and the God-awful sounds it made... Humans didn't- couldn't do that. A human would've died in the bushes from those injuries. There was no more food for me to throw up, I could feel it, but my body continued to dry heave.

"I'm sorry." A hand settled on my lower back, lightly rubbing in a comforting circle, "I'm sorry you had to see that, but I need you to get up." I shook my head and continued to stare at the asphalt and what remained of my last eaten meal. That had to be a better sight than the mutilated body in the road. This fate had to be better than anything else that could happen today. "More could come from the sound." He said. I snapped my head to look up at him. There was distress and regret in his eyes.

"M-More?" I said, and it came out as a whisper. "There's more of them?"

He nodded once, "Let me help you." With a grunt, he carefully pulled me up off the ground and back into the seat I had been in seconds before. I focused my eyes on the car's dashboard so I wouldn't have to see the remains. "My name is Rick Grimes. I'm sorry again that you had to see that, but can you please tell me your name?"

My mouth fell open to answer, but no words seemed to form. I searched through the bouncing thoughts in my head only to find no information. There was absolutely nothing. There was no name sitting at the tip of my tongue. There was no memory of the accident. There was no memory of anything. All that was there was confusion and panic. With shaky hands, I reached up and pulled the passenger seat visor down. I was hoping to find recognition in the face that stared back at me now that I was able to focus and wasn't so distracted by the wounds, but the only thing in the mirror was a fearful stranger.

Unfamiliar gray green eyes were wide in shock and horror. The woman had an oval face with clear, sun kissed skin in the areas that weren't covered in dark purple bruises or dried blood. Light brown hair fell a to a few inches above her shoulders in a wavy, matted mess. My hand lifted to touch the woman's face. The woman was me, but it felt like I was seeing this face for the very first time.

"I-I-I don't know." I stammered and shook my head. A lump formed in my throat and the tears I had managed to bite back in the face of a monster came flooding out. I looked back to Officer Rick Grimes, "I-I don't know who I am. I don't know who I am!"

It felt like the air had been knocked out of my lungs. Panic welled up in my chest as I hyperventilated and shook. Hot tears dripped down my cheek. Why was this happening? What was going on?

Why couldn't I remember anything?

"Hey, hey, hey." Officer Grimes said in a firm, calm voice. He lightly tugged my chin in his direction, so I was facing him. I kept my gaze on his own, "Everything is going to be ok, alright? I know it doesn't seem like it, but you're going to be ok." He nodded, "It seems like you hit your head pretty hard in the accident. I'm sure everything will come back to you."

I took a shuddering breath and bobbed my head pathetically. There was a headache lingering behind my eyebrows. He was right. He had to be right. I just needed to heal. My memories would come back to me. I forced myself to suck in another slow, deep breath and hastily wiped away the hot tears that leaked down my face. The sharp panic slowly ebbed away to a lingering, but manageable, dread.

Officer Rick Grimes had a calming presence. His words and smooth, southern voice kept me from truly becoming hysterical. Maybe it was the uniform or the look of honor in his eyes, maybe it was even the way he held himself, but in that single moment it felt like I could trust him. It's not like I had many other options.

"Come on." He motioned for me to pull my legs in and I did. He then leaned over my lap and grabbed a brown jacket that was sitting in the driver's seat. The sleeve had a decorated sheriff deputy patch that matched his shirt. He offered me a small, firm smile before laying the jacket over my shoulders reassuringly before turning and jogging back in the direction of the wreckage. I was too scared to actually watch him go though.

Instead, I buried my face into my hands. Nothing was coming to me. Not a single thing. I didn't know where, when, or who I was. For the life of me, I couldn't remember the crash itself or where I had been going when it happened. All these frantic questions filled my mind alongside the scariest of them all.

What the hell was that thing that had sprung out from the bushes?

I lifted my head at the sound of approaching footsteps and quickly rubbed away the leftover tears. Rick had a medium sized book bag around one of his shoulders. His eyes glanced over the area in caution again before he came over and offered the bag. "I found this in your car."

Gratefully, I wrapped my arms around the bag and Rick stepped back to shut the car door. He jogged around to the other side of the car and got in. There was movement in the forest line, I could see it out of the corner of my eye, but I refused to look closer at it. Rather, I narrowed my eyes at a single point on my bag as Rick started the car and began to drive away. Only a minute or so had passed before I found the nerve to speak up.

"Do you know what that thing was?" I licked my lower lip, forgetting I had a wound there and flinched when I accidentally brushed across it. My head was resting against the back of the seat and I stared at him, "The thing in the bushes. The thing you-… you shot."

"You don't know?" Rick replied with a quick glance.

"I don't know anything." I replied with a crack in my voice. With a pause, I took a moment to collect myself again, "I-I can't remember a single thing. Nothing."

He nodded with a look of sympathy on his face, "I only woke up recently. I was...I was in a coma. Woke up in the ruins of the hospital not knowing anything myself." Rick paused in thought before letting out a sigh, "This is going to be difficult to hear." He glanced over again, "They aren't people anymore. It was the first thing I checked before doing anything else. They aren't sick. They're dead and they…they try and eat any living thing that moves, and if you're bitten by them… you'll get sick and die only to come back as one of them."

"But...how? How could someone that died come back and…" It didn't make any sort of logical sense. "How is that even possible?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Rick said bluntly. He cleared his throat and spared me another glance. This one was apologetic, "I'm sorry you had to hear it this way."

I shook my head, "I doubt there's a good way to ever hear news like that."

Rick nodded and focused his gaze on the road ahead. There was another pause of silence before he spoke up again, "I'm heading to Atlanta to find my family. My wife and son. I don't know where you were heading, but if I had to guess you might've been on your way to Atlanta too."

"What makes you say that?"

"Atlanta's supposed to have a refugee camp there. You're welcome to join me if you want."

I answered his offer with a question of my own, "Were you there when I-… when the car-?"

"No." Rick managed to understand what I was trying to ask despite the fact that I couldn't get it out entirely, "I saw the wreckage from a distance. You're lucky you weren't attacked. All that blood, they could've come running."

I moved my gaze and attention back to the bag sitting on my lap. After taking a moment to steel myself, I opened a smaller top pocket to see a pen, seventy cents in change, a crumpled-up receipt, and a decorative wallet. I grabbed the wallet first and quickly pulled it open to investigate. There was $400 in cash, but no credit or debit cards. Another receipt, but this one wasn't crumpled up. It came from a gas station located in Dallas, Texas. Finally, I pulled out my driver's license.

"My name is Victoria Smith." I read aloud. There was no recognition in the name, but it felt familiar on my tongue. As if I've said it many times before, "I was born on April 26, 1984 and according to this I'm from Alabama."

"Alabama?"

"Yeah, a 25-year-old from Alabama…" My words trailed away as I thought back to my other findings, "…but I don't think that's where I was coming from. I have a receipt that puts me in Texas. When did this...thing, start?"

Rick twisted his lips, "Maybe a month ago? Can't be sure."

I was silent for a moment as I mulled this new information over in my head along with everything else I had learned. Where had I been when all this started, and had I actually been heading towards Atlanta? It made no sense. If I was from Alabama and I had a receipt from Texas, then why the hell was I in Georgia of all places? Did I have family here I was looking for? Friends?

The pain began to settle and grow more pronounced as I relaxed into the seat. Soreness washed over my muscles and my head was throbbing something fierce. None of the physical pain held a flame to the mental pain I felt though. Seeing my name hadn't sparked my memory like I had hoped it would. In fact, it just filled me with more questions.

The only question I had a remote idea on how to answer was the question of what to do next. At this point, it seemed like there was no way I was going to suddenly remember where I was coming from. I wasn't going to bet all my marbles on that. Officer Grimes said Atlanta had a refugee camp so maybe I had been heading there. Hopefully, that refugee camp had some answers for me. If I was really lucky then it might have someone who would recognize me. Plus, the last thing I wanted to do was travel alone right now.

"Officer Grimes", I spoke up, "I do want to go to Atlanta with you."
"Good." He nodded with a small smile, "I wasn't exactly comfortable with letting someone as injured as you are wander around alone anyways." He let out a soft chuckle, "And you can just call me Rick."

"Thank you. For earlier I mean."

"No problem."

The ride became silent again as I turned my head and looked out the window. My eyelids grew heavy as I watched the landscape blur by. A lingering thought at the back of my mind was telling me that I shouldn't fall asleep because I could be concussed. There were a few seconds where I felt anger towards the thought. I could remember a concussion fact, but not anything else about myself? That was a bunch of bullshit as far as I was concerned. It didn't last long though because I was fading into unconsciousness fast. Rick picked up the radio on the front panel and began to speak into it.

"Can you hear my voice? If anybody reads, please respond." He paused and I let my eyes close, "Broadcasting on emergency channel. Will be approaching Atlanta on 85. If anybody can hear, please respond."

"Victoria? Victoria?" A squeezing motion on my shoulder startled me awake. My eyes snapped open as I looked to my side. Rick was pulling his hand away from me, "Are you alright?"

I gave him an affirmative grunt before sitting up and stretching my back. The soreness was still there along with a few sharp pains, but I expected no less. My head still hurt, but it wasn't as bad as it had been before.

"The car ran out of gas. I was gonna walk ahead and try to find some more." Rick explained.

I glanced around to see the police car was stopped in the middle of the road with Georgia forests on either side. I looked back to him, "Can I come along?"

"Yeah, grab your bag just in case we don't come back." Rick motioned toward my book bag, which now sat on the floorboard.

With a sigh I unzipped the larger portion of my book bag and dug around to see if there were a miraculous extra pair of shoes. Fortunately, or unfortunately, there was a pair of flip-flops pressed to the side of the bag from all the other crap I had. It wasn't an ideal choice of footwear in the apocalypse, but it was better than being barefoot. Ignoring the urge to look closer at all the belongings in my bag, I pulled the sock off my right foot and slipped on the brown, leather flip-flop. As ridiculous as it looked, I decided to keep the boot on my other foot. There was no heel on the boot so both shoes were level, and I figured having good protection on at least one foot was better than none, right?

I tossed the other flip-flop back into my bag, pulled it onto my shoulders, and then climbed out of the car. Rick was still in the vehicle, but his door was open now. He pulled a picture from his overhead visor and stared at it in longing for a moment before tucking it into his shirt pocket. He glanced over at me and I quickly averted my gaze. I walked toward the front of the police cruiser and Rick met me there a few seconds later with his own black duffel bag in one hand, a red gas can in the other, and on his back was a larger bag that was filled with various guns.

"Need me to carry one?" I reached out my hand with the offer.

Rick gave me another firm smile and handed me the gas can, "Thanks."

I gave him a quick nod and the two of us began walking down the side of the road in silence. I still wore his jacket despite the Georgia heat. There was something about the thick jacket that comforted me. It was like my own personal, metaphorical shield, separating me from the ugly world.

"I'm sorry that I haven't been very social. Just had a lot on my mind." Rick used his free hand to readjust his wide-brimmed hat.

"It's fine. My head is pounding so I don't think I'd be up for any deep conversations anyways." I answered truthfully with a forced smile. Rick chuckled in response and it grew quiet again. I quickly cleared my throat, "Can you tell me more about those...the dead?"

"Wish I could, but I honestly don't know much more myself. I know the only thing that puts them down permanently is to go for their heads and that they're attracted to sound. The guy who helped me called them walkers." Rick answered with a sigh. He sounded disappointed that he had no more information on the matter.

"You said you were heading to Atlanta to find your wife and son, right? How do you know they'll be there? At the refugee camp?"

"I don't." Rick replied frankly, he paused before continuing in his deep southern tinged tone, "But it's the first place to start looking. That same guy told me about that camp. He mentioned the CDC was working on a cure. I figured that'd be the first place they tried to go."

"That's why you think I was heading to Atlanta too? To find family?" I asked. Rick nodded and I pondered on the thought. It'd be great, hell it'd be fantastic, if I could find some sort of family member in Atlanta. It didn't even have to be a family member, just someone who recognized me would do. Maybe they could shed some light on my murky past. A bitter chuckle left me, "Too bad I can't remember who my family is."

Rick must have noticed how downcast and beaten I felt because he gave me a reassuring nod, "Hey. We'll figure this out. Don't worry."

It gave me comfort that he said 'we' rather than 'you'. It made me feel a little less alone. Like I had an ally in this mess of a world and there was nothing more reassuring than that.

"That's an interesting choice of footwear." Rick spoke up and I could tell from his tone that he was trying to shift my focus away from the more depressing topic of my lack of memories.

I chuckled and glanced down at my ridiculous feet, "Yeah, well, beggars can't be choosers, right?"

"That's true."

"Who knows? Maybe I'll start an apocalyptic trend." Rick let out a soft chuckle and bobbed his head slightly. There was another pause in the conversation as I contemplated asking him what I wanted to know. He was a stranger to me, and it seemed rude to pry so much, but damn was I curious. I shrugged my shoulders a bit, cringing as pain flashed across the back of my right shoulder, "So…Can I ask how you ended up in a coma?" He glanced over at me and I quickly added, "You don't have to say if you don't want too. I get it."

Rick shook his head and gave me a reassuring smile, "No, it's fine. Hardly a secret."

As the two of us continued down the abandoned street, Rick explained how he was shot on the job working with his partner. The last thing he remembered was pain and panic, and then suddenly he was waking up in an empty, desolate hospital. Rick had stumbled through the abandoned hospital into the streets of his dead town only to almost wind up dying himself. A father and son took him in and helped him get on his feet. He had returned the favor by taking them to the sheriff's department and getting them a few weapons. That's where the rather large bag of guns and ammo on his back had come from.

Essentially, Rick had woken up in the middle of the apocalypse with no idea what the hell was happening.

It was a situation I found I could relate to.

Rick and I both stopped as we came to a small farmhouse off the side of the road with a large field taking up the space behind it. The house was white with a tan roof, but the paint on the house was peeling and all that could be heard was the buzzing of a few bugs and the wind chime playing its eerie melody. We stopped in the front lawn and Rick dropped his bags to look around. I set the gas can and my own bag beside his as he began to walk closer to the home.

"Hello?" Rick called out loudly, "Police officer and a friend out here." He took a few steps toward the front porch staircase and I stayed where I was, "Can we borrow some gas?" Rick waited a few seconds before glancing back at me with a shrug. He cautiously and quietly walked onto the porch then peeked through the door's window, "Hello?"

I nervously glanced around before looking back over to him. Rick knocked on the door a few times and called out again, "Hello? Anybody home?"

An uneasy feeling settled in my gut making me squirm in place. My eyes darted around the empty area one more time. What if one of those walkers was around here? I cleared my throat, "Can you see anybody through the window? Rick?"

Rick moved to the left and glanced through the first window before moving onto the second one. His shoulders tensed and he lingered there for a few seconds before turning on his heel and quickly rushing off the porch. Rick's face was white as a sheet and it looked like he was going to be ill.

"What's wrong?" I took a few steps forward. The curious side of me wanted to take a look for myself, but Rick held out his arm and stopped me before I even got close to the steps.

"Don't." He shook his head firmly. Whatever he had seen hadn't sat well with him, "Just don't look. Trust me."

Rick brushed past me and took a seat on a stone bench off to the side. I glanced once more at the house. If Rick said I shouldn't look, I was going to take his word for it. I could barely handle what happened on the road and he had handled that like a champ. I turned back around to see Rick had pulled his hat off. He ran a hand through his damp, wavy hair. A sigh escaped his lips and I watched as the troubled look on his face grew.

Hesitantly, I sat beside him. There were no words that came to mind for me to say. The guy had comforted me so easily before, but now I didn't have the slightest idea of how to do the same for him. It wasn't like I knew him well enough to say what he wanted to hear. I pressed my lips together and set my hand on his shoulder in an attempt to be comforting. He glanced over at me and I offered him a small, reassuring smile. I didn't know what to say, but maybe it would help him to know that he wasn't doing this alone right now. It sure as hell helped me. Rick nodded and sat up straight.

"We need to keep moving. I'm gonna check the truck." Rick stood and crossed the small space to a small pickup truck that sat off to the side of the house.

Rick held his hat while he opened the truck door and began to search for keys. I remained seated and watched him as his search turned up nothing. He shut the door with a frown and was on his way back to me when a sudden sound made both of us jump in surprise.

"Was that a...?" My voice trailed off as we both walked around the house to the source. Standing in a closed off area was a large light tan horse. Splotches of light gray were scattered along his back and a stripe of white went down his nose.

"A horse." Rick confirmed with a chuckle as a smile slipped onto his face. He turned in my direction and held his hat out, "Hold this?"

I nodded and took the hat from him with a skeptical look. What exactly did he have planned? Rick found some rope and opened the gate door. The horse jumped back in surprise letting out a cry that I couldn't help but flinch at. However, Rick didn't look as spooked as I was by the animal. I had no idea why, but horses were apparently not one of my favorite animals.

"Easy now. Easy. Not gonna hurt you. Nothing like that." Rick took slow and steady steps. His voice was calm and reassuring, "More like a proposal."

I leaned against the fence and watched with interest at his movements. He stepped closer to the horse, sure in every step that he took, "Atlanta's just down the road a ways. It's safe there- food, shelter, people. Other horses too, I bet." A soft chuckle escaped my lips and Rick glanced back in acknowledgement before returning his attention back to the mostly calm horse. He slowly wrapped the rope around the horse's neck and rubbed his hand against the horse's white stripe, "There we go, good boy. Good boy."

"Thought you were a cop, not the horse whisperer." I joked. Rick led the horse forward with a smile and I nervously took a step back. He didn't seem to notice or at least he acted like he didn't.

"I'm gonna see if I can find a saddle for him. Can you grab our bags?"

"Yeah, sure." I replied before tossing him his hat like a frisbee, which he caught with ease, and then heading back toward the front of the house. The bags were still sitting there alongside the red gas can. I bent over to grab them and flinched as my head spun. It had become easy to ignore the growing pain, but this was a sudden reminder that I was not at 100%. In fact, I was far from it. My eyes darted to my own bag and I reached forward to open it up. There had been something in here I spotted earlier that looked like it could've been a med-kit.

Near the top, under a folded-up shirt, was a small black box. I pulled it out and popped it open. A sigh of relief escaped me as my suspicions were confirmed. Inside were the typical small first aid materials, which included some gauze, Band-Aids, Neosporin, and pills that looked like Ibuprofen. There were also some tools for stitching up a wound. What really caught my eye though was a white envelope that had been folded and held inside the kit.

Curiously, I opened it up to find two pictures. The first was of me and a girl about my own age. Her hair was long and dark brown, almost black, and she had a lightly tanned complexion with a wide smile and pretty brown eyes. The two of us were smiling brightly while wearing scrubs with tags that read 'volunteer'.

The second was of us again, but now there was a guy there too with curly blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a thick build. The three of us were standing in front of a large building. There were multiple signs in the back of the picture, but all I could make out was, 'University of Alabama in Birmingham'.

It was a medical school. I knew that. I was there. I…graduated?

There were flickers of bits of memories in my mind. Tests and books, late nights walking through a hospital, sicknesses and diseases, and a sense of pride mingled with frustration, grief, and exhaustion. The funny thing was that in every flicker I saw there were no faces. I couldn't remember any faces of the people beside me. None, but one that is, and that was the face of the woman in the picture.

"What is that?"

I whipped around to see Rick walk up with the horse. Said horse now had a saddle and reigns. My focus turned back to Rick as I stood up with the pictures in hand, "I, um, I found some pictures while looking for medicine."

He glanced at the pictures with a questioning gaze. I gave him a smile and offered them to him to look at. As Rick glanced at both pictures, I grabbed two pills from the kit and dry swallowed them. He handed them back to me after a moment, "UAB. That's a medical school isn't it?"

"Yeah. I think I was a...", I paused as the flickers washed over me again, "Marie was going into General Surgery and I was going to work in Emergency Medicine."

"You remember?" He asked with wide eyes.

"Yes? No." I shook my head with a frustrating sigh, "It's weird. It's like I can remember some things, but not others."

Rick nodded, "Hey, this is progress. It's only been a few hours since your crash. Give it time." I glanced down at the pictures one more time and he spoke up again, "Maybe you were trying to meet up with her?"

There was something about his words that just didn't feel right. Another bit of memory drifted though my mind and I shook my head in response, "She's dead." It wasn't a solid memory, but I could remember black. Black jackets, black dresses, and a black coffin. The air was hot and dry. People cried. She had died tragically. She had died too soon. "I think that's why I was in Texas. Her funeral."

Rick reached forward and set a hand on my elbow, pulling my attention back to reality, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry about your friend."

I nodded and gave him a smile of thanks, but it was a half-hearted effort. I wished I could remember more than her name and that she had died. She had been important to me. I knew it, but there was no pang of pain at remembering her loss. There was just discomfort and disappointment of not knowing more. I flipped over the picture of the two of us to see scribbled handwriting that could have been my own, 'Marie & Tori'. Quickly, I tucked both pictures back into my bag along with the med-kit.

Rick got onto the horse's back with ease and reached out as I passed him both his duffel bags. He set them firmly in front of him so they wouldn't fall off and then held out his hand to help me up. I slipped my book bag back on over Rick's jacket and hesitantly glanced from his hand to the horse.

"What's wrong?"

"It's stupid, but I…I don't think I like horses." I replied with a grimace. "I don't want to say I'm scared, but… uh… I'm pretty sure I'm scared."

Rick chuckled, "Don't worry. I got you."

I sucked in a deep breath and took his hand. I had trusted him up to this point, why not a little more? He helped me get settled onto the horse and everything seemed all right so far. It felt a tad bit awkward sitting so close to someone I didn't know very well, but all things considered that was the least of my problems.

"Go easy, ok. I haven't done this for years, and Victoria's nervous too." Rick murmured to the horse and my eyes narrowed at the 'haven't done this in years' portion of his sentence. Before I could complain, he pulled on the reigns and the horse suddenly galloped forward into the field. A yelp erupted from my throat and all thoughts of awkwardness were thrown aside as I wrapped my arms around Rick's waist and clung tightly to him in hopes that I wouldn't fall off and bust my already broken head open.

The ride wasn't too terrible. When the horse eventually slowed down to a walk it was almost enjoyable. Almost. I kept my arms loosely around Rick just in case the horse decided to surprise us and pick up speed again. As it stepped onto the main road to Atlanta we fell into a quiet shock. The road in was empty and bare while the road out was filled with destroyed and gutted cars lined bumper to bumper as far as the eye could see.

"That's really eerie." I murmured and unintentionally tightened my arms around him. Rick lightly kicked the horse making it hurry down the empty road a little bit faster. Unfortunately, the city itself wasn't any better. Streets were abandoned and silent as trash and debris floated down the road, carried by the warm breeze. The horse slowly trotted down the road past abandoned cars and a large bus. I glanced inside to see people actually sitting in the seats. Suddenly, one person began to turn their rotted head to look at me. The bloody bite mark at its throat and its missing eye reminded me that these things were no longer people. The people they had been died and now they were left a rotting monster eager to create more walking corpses. I cringed and clutched onto Rick's shirt, burying my face into his back, as the horse began to panic.

"It's alright." Rick brushed the horse with his hand trying to calm the animal down, "Nothing we can't outrun. You alright, Victoria?"

"Y-Yeah." I said and took a shaky breath. As much as I wanted to hide away forever, I couldn't afford to. This was the world now. I needed to adapt. I needed to be strong. If not for myself then for the guy I had my arms wrapped around. The last thing I needed was to let my fear put him in danger. "I'm ok, Rick."

I forced myself to lift my head. A groan made me glance back to see one of the walkers, as Rick called them, followed behind the horse at a slow, shambling pace. Its skin was ashy and its eyes were a cloudy yellow and red. "I'm doing ok."

The horse continued down the street when Rick stopped him in front of a large military tank sitting in the middle of the road. Lying on the cannon was a dead body being eaten by black crows that cawed loudly. It shook me to my core to see such a big city so dead. This was the type of thing that happened in movies and books. It wasn't ever supposed to be a reality, was it?

Rick turned the horse around when a new sound greeted my ears. It was a steady thumping noise high in the air.

"That sounds like a helicopter." I thought aloud. Rick scanned the skies desperately and I snapped my head up to do the same.

"Over there!" He motioned toward the reflection of a helicopter flying past a tall skyscraper. He snapped the reigns and sent the horse down the street chasing after it. The horse turned the corner and my stomach dropped.

Hundreds of walkers shuffled along the street aimlessly. At the sound of the panicked horse though, they all snapped their attention toward Rick and I. Fear welled up in me as the horse threw its two front legs up into the air. Rick turned the horse and sent it back down the street where we had come from.

The horse slid to a stop at the sight of more walkers. They were everywhere now. The horse threw its legs up again in panic, but this time I lost my grip and fell off the horse onto my back. A sharp pain radiated through my body as I tried to catch the air that had been knocked out of me.

"Rick!" I screamed as some of the walkers turned their full attention to me.

"Victoria, run!" He yelled, "I'll find you! I promise!"

Walkers rushed toward the horse. I wanted to help, but what the hell was I even capable of doing right now? Rick motioned me away with another yell of his own. The groan of a walker right behind me made me sprint forward past the mass and down the street. I glanced back to see six walkers following at a startling speed. Adrenaline dumped into my veins as fear and panic flooded my mind. I willed myself to run faster. Turning the corner and trying to avoid the fallen debris caused me to lose my one flip flop and I suddenly wished I had looked around the farmhouse for any kind of shoe that wouldn't have done this to me. A panicked cry left my throat as I sprinted on without even trying to grab the lost shoe. I ignored any pain I felt from my bare foot hitting the rough terrain and just kept going. Gunshots could be heard but I didn't stop. There had to be somewhere to go, there had to be a way out. My thoughts shot back to Rick, the kind stranger that helped me off the side of the road, the officer who had taken me under his wing. What would become of him? I wanted to help him, but as I glanced back I realized there was now a pack of about fifteen stumbling after me. There was nothing I could do to help Rick right now, and really I wondered if there was anything I could do to help me. I couldn't run forever, but damn it, I would sure as hell try. I bit back waves of pain and nausea as death itself chased me down the quiet streets of Atlanta.