Chapter 1

"I've finished reading your bedtime story, and it's time to head to bed," I say as I get up from the bed and set the book down on the nightstand.

"Awwww, I don't want to go to bed yet…" the dark-curly haired girl pouts while crossing her arms and laying down.

"Elena," I say sternly while tilting my head a bit. "You have school tomorrow, and I don't want you to be tired. You need your energy – tu energía."

"But mom…" Elena mutters as she pulls the magenta blankets to her face.

"Que? Estas bien?" I ask as I lean toward her to touch her forehead.

"I'm just…scared…" she whimpers as tears form in her eyes.

"Scared of what, honey?" I ask in concern as I sit beside her and place my hand on her cheek.

"I had a bad dream last night…" she replies while rubbing her eye. "A monster was trying to take me away into the darkness…I was all alone…Tenia mucho miedo…"

"I'll sleep with you tonight, that way you're not scared," I say as I pull the sheets over my legs and lay down beside her.

I reach for the lamp on the nightstand to my right and switch the light off. The room is illuminated with the light of the full moon pouring in from the bedroom window. I turn on my side as Elena cuddles into my chest.

"I don't want you feeling lonely and scared," I say softly as I caress Elena's hair.

"I've been afraid since daddy died…"

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid that I'd lose you, too…" she responds as I feel her hand clutch my shirt. "You'd go away a lot for your job…. I'm afraid you're going to have to leave again and not come back…I don't want to be left alone…"

"I left my job to be with you after your father died…I didn't want you to feel lonely every time I left when I was called for duty…"

I stare into the dimly lit room.

"I don't want to be lonely, mommy," Elena whispers, interrupting my thoughts.

I feel some tears form in my eyes, but I fight them back.

"You won't be, baby. Whenever you feel lonely, just remember that I'll be here…No matter what, always know that I'll be here and in your heart."

"And I'll always be here for you, mom…and I'll always be in your heart."

"Siempre en mi corazon," I whisper as I embrace Elena in my arms. "Okay?"

"Siempre."

I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling. The dim light finds its way through the ragged, stained curtains. There's absolute silence in the room other than my soft breathing. I continue to lay there, inhaling and exhaling. After a few moments, I finally decide to get up. I begin to sit up quickly but jerk back down from the sudden pain on my left side. I forgot about the incident last night with some hostile survivors. It was part of the reason I slept longer than usual.

I turn my head to my right and reach for the bottle of pain killers and a bottle of water on the floor. It's a single mattress I'm laying on with no bedframe. It's a bit torn on the sides and has some dirt stains; not the best mattress to sleep on, but it's enough to let me sleep comfortably. I pop two pills in my mouth and sit up slightly to sip some water. I sigh with my eyes closed and lay back down on the mattress, brushing some of my dark curls off my face.

'That was a close call last night,' I think to myself. 'Had it not been for my military experience, I probably wouldn't have survived that attack…'

I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling again. I attempt to move my side a bit but grit my teeth as I still feel some pain.

'A few of them managed to escape...I took care of some of their buddies, though…Biters might have gotten to their bodies and feasted on them by now.'

I take a deep breath and sit up. The piercing pain shoots through my side, but I continue to ignore it. I manage to stand on my feet and slowly move toward a wooden chair in front of a metal picnic table. Carefully, I plop myself down on the chair. I look at my side and see that some blood has leaked through my dark blue tank top. Upon lifting my shirt up, I see that blood has dripped out through the bandaged cloth. I reach for the medical kit resting on the table and open it, taking out some clean cloths and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. I peel the bloody bandaged cloth off the 3-inch long stitched wound and wipe it clean with a cloth. I then soak another cloth with hydrogen peroxide and apply it over the wound. Grunting from the bit of pain, I continue to wipe. I reach for some thick medical tape, cut it, and grab a large piece of cloth. I place the clean cloth over my stitched wound and secure it on my skin with the thick medical tape.

"Son of a bitch got me good," I mutter in annoyance.

I sigh heavily before getting up and moving toward a tall, burgundy dresser. It's one thing having to worry about those damn things. But there are hostile survivors that you have to watch out for, too. They kill people for whatever supplies they need. Shit, some kill just for the hell of it. There aren't a lot of humans who survive out there, but a good amount of those who do aren't human – many have lost their human qualities. I don't blame them. Who wouldn't lose their humanity after all this shit?

I pull out a black, long sleeve shirt from the top drawer of the dresser. I take my bloody tank top off and put the clean shirt on.

'I'll have to set some more traps up around the town later,' I think to myself as I head over to the bathroom with the bloody tank top in my hand. 'Those bastards from last night set off quite a number of them. I have to make sure the town has traps that I can use in case anything goes down at any time.'

I turn the faucet on and toss the bloody tank top in the porcelain sink. I reach for the bottle of soap on the counter and squirt some drops on to the now wet tank top. I begin to rinse the shirt where the blood stain is and watch as the white bubbles mix with the blood that is now running down the drain.

'Well, the good thing about the encounter with those goons I managed to kill last night is that I got to take their weapons and ammunition and other supplies…a lot of it is very useful. I just hope the rest don't come back…'

As soon as I see that all of the blood has washed out of the shirt, I rinse the rest of the bubbles out. I turn the faucet off and begin to squeeze the shirt to get rid of the water. After seeing that no more water drips, I walk toward the shower and hang the tank top on the shower curtain's rod. I head toward the mattress and slowly lay myself down on it, wincing a bit from pain.

'I'll rest a little longer until the pain killers kick in so that I can head around town to scout the area and set up more traps….'

I rest my arm across my stomach and stare up at the ceiling. The dark, beige paint has chipped off over time. There are some cracks along the edges with some stains.

'I'm going to have to move on from this place soon…I need a new setting…a change…'

My eye feel a bit heavy, so I close them. Drowsiness is beginning to take over.

'I hope to see you again in my dreams, Elena…'

The sound of gun shots causes me to shoot my eyes open. I sit up quickly and get on my feet to walk to the window. I stand close against the wall and carefully peer through the ragged and stained curtains. I glance around the street in front of the house and see no one. More shots are fired. I can now tell they're being fired some streets away, so I'm not able to see who the shots are coming from.

"Shit," I hiss as I dart toward a large green cabinet. "It might be those assholes from last night."

I grab my bulletproof vest and quickly put it on. I reach for my gun and blade holsters and strap them on my thighs. Shots continue to be fired. I reach for my pistol and stick it in the holster, and then grab an assault rifle with a strap, putting it over my shoulder. I move quickly toward the chair where my black combat boots are sitting and slip them on. With that, I lunge toward the bedroom door and head down the stairs. I take the back door of the house, not wanting to be seen if anyone is near the front. Because I created a perimeter through this small town, I know it like the back of my hand. I run swiftly through fences where the boards can easily be moved to the side to get through. Shots continue to be fired.

'Sounds like survivors are shooting at one another besides the biters,' I think to myself as I sprint down an alleyway. 'Hopefully, at least one group of the survivors is friendly.'

I reach the street where the gun fight is taking place. I crouch and move swiftly behind some cars. One biter that's missing its legs attempts to reach for me from under a car, but I quickly grab my 5-inch combat knife and jam it into its skull. I scan around the area and see two men crouched behind a silver minivan a street down. They're shooting in the opposite direction from where I'm at, so the other shooters must be on the other street across. I place my blade back in its holster and grab my pistol. I move stealthily past some cars with my pistol ready in my hand. Wanting to get a glimpse of who the other shooters are, I make my way toward the back entrance of one of the stores on the street that's in the middle of where the gun fight is. I quietly open the back door of a grocery shop and make my way toward one of the windows. I crouch beside it against the wall and peer through the dirty glass window. The other men who are shooting are just some 15 feet away from the store I'm in, hiding behind their two pickup trucks. There are about 5 of them.

'Those are the men from last night,' I think to myself. 'Sons of bitches probably came back looking for me but ran into these other guys…new victims, I suppose.'

I scan the area where they are in order to spot any trap I may have set up. Just above them on the street light, I see one of my flash grenades taped on it. I spot one of my homemade bombs under an abandoned vehicle that is parked a few feet in front of the men.

'I'll use the flash grenade as a distractor. That'll give me the chance to head behind the close car in front of this shop to shield myself after I gun down at least one of the men. If it gets too crazy, I'll shoot the homemade bomb to hopefully take down at least one of them and give me a chance to run for safety.'

With my plan now set, I crouch and swiftly move toward the front door of the shop. I lean against the wall beside it and aim my gun through the broken glass of the door. I mark my shot on the flash grenade and shoot. The sudden explosion causes the men's attention to shift toward the direction it's coming from, and I take this window of opportunity. I kick the shop door open and quickly aim at one of the men, taking him down with a headshot. The other men turn their attention to me now, and I run behind the car in front of the shop for cover. Just as I crouch down, bullets begin to bombard the car I'm hiding behind.

'These pricks have quick-firing guns,' I think to myself as I crouch for cover.

"Well, boys, it looks like the bitch from last night found us!" one of the men yells out. "Thanks for making it easier for us by showing up, sweetheart. Now, we can finish what we started last night!"

"Let her have it, boys!" another man yells.

With that, bullets start to spray toward my direction, hitting the car I'm hiding behind, covering it with bullet holes.

'I won't be able to stick myself out from the side of the car to get a good shot of the bomb,' I think to myself. 'The only other way is to get a shot from under this car.'

I quickly lay on my stomach on the pavement and peer between the two left tires of the car I'm under. The car which the homemade bomb is under is in clear view, just some 15 feet away. I take aim of it and fire. The abandoned car explodes, causing the force of the explosion to send some of the men to fall for cover. The explosion also causes one of their pickup trucks to topple over on its side. I see the men down on the ground, and I immediately crawl from under the car and run to the other side of the wide street, moving closer to where the men are. One tries to shoot at me, but I have the quicker trigger finger and shoot him straight in the heart. He plops on his back, lifeless. The other three men are also on the ground, still dazed from the explosion. They all slowly crawl to reach their guns on the ground near them, but I grab the guns and throw them in the back of the upstanding pickup truck. I walk over to one of the men. He rolls to his side, leaving his stomach exposed for me to kick. I kick him hard and feel his ribs shatter through my combat boots. When he rolls on his back, I gaze at his face. It was this son of a bitch who stabbed me last night.

"Did you sleep well last night with that wound?" he smartly remarks with a bloody smirk.

I clench my fists and kick him in the stomach again. The man coughs for air and spits some blood out on to the pavement. He begins to chuckle.

"You know…it's really a small world we live in…" he begins to say through grunts. "I know who you are."

I gaze at him. From behind me, I see one of the other men trying to lunge at me. I quickly elbow him in the face, making him fall to the ground. I aim my pistol at him and shoot him in the head. The other man also attempts to lunge at me, but I quickly dodge him and shoot him in the chest. He collapses to the ground. I turn my attention back to the other man who's still chuckling.

"Your husband…he was a detective…wasn't he?" the man says before spitting more blood out on to the pavement.

My eyes open wide in surprise.

"Detective John Foster…the son of a bitch who tried to take me in…I still remember the look on his lifeless face after I shot him."

I freeze up. I feel a lump form in my throat.

"Jason Williams…" I mutter.

"Yeah, you remember me, right?" the man continues. "I remember seeing you in court at your husband's case hearing. What are the odds of meeting up at this time, here?"

I feel tears form in my eyes, but I fight them back.

"When I encountered you last night, I recognized you…Still attractive since the last time I saw you," Jason remarked with a grin. "But I then remembered your husband's face…he also left a daughter, didn't he?"

At that moment, I pull my gun out and aim at his head.

"Hold it!" I hear a man's voice say from behind me and then moves toward my right. "Lower your weapon."

I notice that the tall, slender man is pointing a gun at me. He was one of the men who was hiding behind the cars on the other end of the street. The other man who was with him appears on my left, pointing a crossbow at me. I return my gaze to Jason who's on the ground.

"Why'd you do it?" I gaze at Jason with stern eyes.

"Why?" Jason continues as he slowly reaches for his back pocket. "Because I could. For sport. For fun."

My jaw clenches as anger boils through my veins.

"Say hi to John for me," Jason says as he pulls out his pistol.

My reflexes react, and I shoot him, right through the forehead. I feel my hand shaking as I continue to hold the gun out in front of me. A moment of silence takes place as I stare at Jason's lifeless body, blood pouring on to the pavement from the bullet hole on his head.

"Lower your weapon," the tall, slender man on my right orders me to do in a calm voice, still pointing his gun at me.

After a few seconds of silence, I finally lower my weapon. I shut my eyes, trying to control my breathing and anger.

"Now hand me the gun," the man says calmly as he continues.

I hand my pistol to him slowly.

"Now the rifle."

I take the rifle from across my shoulder and hand it to him.

"Who are you? What's your name?" he begins to ask.

"How about we talk at my place," I suggest in a calm manner. "It's not a good idea to chat out here where the biters can smell our aroma. We've made enough noise already, so quite a number of them will be heading this way."

The tall, slender man glances at his partner, then back at me. I gaze into his bright blue eyes as he studies mine.

"She's right," he finally says. "Our location may not be safe for questionin'. Take us to where you reside."

"It's a quick few minutes from here," I say pointing in the direction. "We can take some alleyways. I know where we won't run into those things."

"Lead the way," the other man with the crossbow says.

I glance around and head toward the shop I had been in. The two men follow close after me and we enter the shop. I lead them through the route I used to get to the gun fight, and we arrive in a few minutes as I said. I lead them through the metal gate of the house I reside. The gate is the only way into the property, and the rest is surrounded by a 7-foot brick wall, covered in vines. I allow them to go in before I lock the gate up. They follow me up the stairs of the back porch and into the two-floor house.

"Are you the only one livin' here?" the tall, blue-eyed man asks as he cautiously glances around.

"Yes, I'm the only one," I assure.

He and his friend examine the area. They look at the boarded up windows, the old but stable furniture, the worn out structure of the house.

"You can follow me to my room upstairs," I say as I walk up the staircase to the second floor, wincing a bit from the wound on my side which I had forgotten about.

Both follow me. I walk into my room and allow them to scope it out.

"Are you thirsty? Hungry?" I ask them as I walk over to the closet and grab a water bottle and granola bar.

The men look at one another before nodding at me. I toss each of them a bottle of water and a granola bar. I walk over to the chair near the metal picnic table, toss the bullet proof jacket on the mattress, and carefully sit down on the chair, putting a hand over my wound as I grunt in a bit of pain.

"My name's Michelle," I say after taking a bite of the granola bar.

"I'm Rick," the tall, blue-eyed man responds as after gulping down some water.

"Daryl," the other man answers as he munches on the granola bar.

"Pleasure to meet you both," I say after swallowing a piece of granola bar.

"Thank you, for, uh, givin' us a hand out there," Rick says as he opens the granola bar wrapper.

"No problem at all," I say before taking a sip of water. "I'm glad to know that you guys aren't hostiles."

"What do ya mean?" Daryl asks after finishing the granola bar and then gulping down some water.

"The men who were shooting at you…" I say as I glance at the floor, recalling Jason. "I had a violent encounter with them last night."

"How violent? What happened?" Rick asks with a curious look.

"There were more than those five men; there were about 10 in their group…But I managed to kill five of them off. They attacked me while I was out scouting the area."

"The man who you killed last," Rick says. "He mentioned someone named John…did you know him beforehand?"

I turn my gaze down to the floor and stay quiet for a moment.

"He and I have history…let's just leave it at that," I reply, taking a sip from my water bottle.

Rick studies me and knows there's something more to my answer, but decides not to ask further.

"How long have ya resided here?" Daryl breaks the silence.

"A little over half a year, I believe," I reply, feeling the pain from my side again but ignore it.

"Over 6 months? By yourself?" Rick asks in disbelief.

I nod as I hold a mouthful of water.

"What's the structure like in this house? Hot water? Electricity?" Rick continues to ask.

"Hot water has been out for about a month. I haven't added any fuel for the heater in the basement because I prefer to save the fuel for my truck. If I need hot water, I'll just heat up a pot of water over the fireplace. This place didn't have electricity when I arrived here. I've relied on candles, lanterns, and solar powered flash lights. As for the structure of the house, it's really old. As you can tell from the cracks on the walls and ceiling, this house has a lot of water damage going on. It won't last longer than a few more weeks, which is why I'm planning on leaving."

I take another gulp of water and place the empty bottle on the table. I glance over at the two men and study them.

"What about you guys; do you have a place you call home?" I ask as bite out of my granola bar.

Rick turn sto Daryl and they nod to one another.

"We stay at a prison, about 15 miles from here," Rick answers.

"A prison? Sounds secure," I say as bite the granola bar again.

"Since you helped us out…we can offer you a place there," Rick adds.

"Are you serious?" I ask in surprise. "I'd be so grateful. I can take all of my supplies that I have here to share with your group."

"I have to ask you three questions, first," Rick adds as he walks closer to where I am. "How many…walkers have you killed? Those things…"

"So many that I've lost count, really. I think that's pretty obvious."

"How many people have you killed? Those who haven't turned."

"I don't kill survivors unless I have to. Unless they're hostiles, I don't kill other survivors. I've helped quite a lot who have passed through here. Most have stayed for a while but then move on. That's another reason why I want to leave…I want a change, you know?"

Rick nods and glances at the floor in contemplation, placing his hands on his hips.

"Well, you've answered my third question," Rick says after rubbing his scruffy facial hair.

"Did I pass the test?" I ask a bit jokingly.

Rick looks into my brown eyes and nods with a small smile.

"Welcome to the club," Daryl says.

I laugh a bit at his remark, but my side wound begins to hurt a bit. I wince at the pain and place my hand over my side. Rick and Daryl take notice.

"Are you hurt?" Rick asks.

"Yeah, the son of a bitch who I shot last was the one who stabbed me last night," I say as I lean forward, trying to ignore the pain.

"We have someone who can take a look at your wound back at the prison," Rick offers.

"Well, how about we start loading my truck with all the supplies I have here? I'm sure you've been through a lot, so getting back to your place would be ideal," I suggest as I stand up.

"That sounds like a hell of a plan," Daryl comments. "What do ya need help packin'?"

"I have that closet full of food supplies. There are three large boxes of protein bars, canned food, and other stuff. The green cabinet there is full of weapons and ammunition," I say as I walk toward the cabinet, take a large brown bag and begin to place weapons and ammo inside of it.

Daryl begins to take the three boxes out of the closet and stacks them on top of one another. Rick is helping me fill up two large bags full of weapons and ammo.

"Where'd you get all this?" Rick asks in wonder as he examines all of the weapons.

"I was in the military before all of this went down," I reply as I stick a rifle inside a bag. "Before I left the town I lived in, I went to the military base and grabbed a hold of these. I also had some in my house beforehand…"

Rick and I finish packing up the weapons and ammo in the bags. I stand up straight and flinch a bit from the pain on my side.

"The pistol you have that you took from me," I say after wincing. "It's my favorite one; I'd be happy if you gave it back."

He gazes into my eyes. I gaze back into his blue eyes and can see that he's still a bit hesitant about trusting me. I honestly don't blame him. It's clear to me that he's a precautious man and knows what he's doing. But I can see hurt deep down in those bright, blue eyes of his. The type of hurt that I see in my own brown eyes every time I look at my reflection.

"I just saved you and your friend and offered to share my supplies with your group," I say, breaking the silence. "You can trust me."

I give him a warm, friendly smile. His eyes open up in surprise upon it. He looks as if he hasn't been given a smile like that in so long. Once he comes back to his senses, he grabs my pistol from his belt behind him and hands it to me, trying to smile a bit.

"Thanks! You can keep that rifle; I've got more as you have seen," I say with a bit of a chuckle as I place my pistol in the holster.

"What else do you have to pack?" Daryl asks, snapping Rick's gaze from me.

"Oh, uh, the medical supplies are in that large container under that picnic table," I reply as I walk over to my dresser and grab a large backpack that's sitting on top. "I'll just pack my clothes real quick and we can start to head downstairs with the supplies."

"Daryl and I will begin to take these things downstairs," Rick says as he carries a box of supplies with Daryl out of the room.

I stuff the few shirts, pants, and under garments that I have in the top drawer inside the dark brown backpack. On top of the dresser, I see my wallet. I open it and see the picture of an olive-skinned little girl with dark curly hair. She's wearing a rose-red dress with a red ribbon tied neatly around the top of her head. The forest-like backdrop fits well with her outfit and pose; she reminds me of Little Red Riding Hood.

'You loved picture days at school,' I think to myself as I gaze at her smiling, warm face.

"We've brought the three boxes of food supplies and the medical equipment downstairs, already," Rick says as he grabs a bag filled with weapons and ammo. "Is there anything else you need to get?"

I snap out of my thoughts and quickly close my wallet and stuff it into my bag.

"Done packing my personal items," I say as I head to the bathroom to grab the tank top that's hanging up to dry. "The only other important things to get are the gallons of fuel. They're in the cabinets in the kitchen," I add as I put my backpack on.

I grab the other bag of weapons and ammunition and hurl it over my shoulder, causing me to wince from the sudden pain on my side. Rick reacts immediately and lunges forward to lift the bag from me.

"Let me help you," he offers as he takes the bag and hurls it over his other shoulder.

"Thanks," I say with a sheepish smile. "I keep forgetting about this damn wound. I always end up forgetting about my wounds because I'm so used to getting them."

Rick stares at me in awe. I ignore his stare and walk out of the room and down the stair case.

"You have most of your supplies packed and ready to go," Daryl says as he rubs his nose.

"Yeah, as I said before, I was planning on moving on soon," I say as I head into the kitchen to the left. "You guys came in the nick of time."

"It's gonna be a pain in the ass, though, carryin' all this stuff," Daryl comments as he glances over at the stalked boxes of supplies.

"My pickup truck is in the garage," I respond as I walk toward the back door with two large containers of fuel in my hands. "It can just take about two or three quick trips between the three of us and we'll be ready to go. Though space in my truck is going to be a bit tight."

"We have an SUV parked just a few streets down," Rick says as he carries a large box of supplies. "You can drive us there."

"Sounds like plan!" I say as I open the back door and walk down the porch stairs.

Rick and Daryl follow behind me, both carrying a box of supplies. I lead them to the worn out garage through the side door. Light seeping in from the high stained glass windows illuminate the garage. In the middle, my black, heavy duty Chevy pickup truck is parked. In the back, there are some smaller boxes of supplies and a few more containers of fuel. I place the large containers of fuel in the back of the pickup truck. Daryl places the box of supplies on the ground and jumps on to the flatbed and motions for Rick to hand him the boxes of supplies. I head out of the garage and back into the house to get a bag of ammunition to carry to the truck. I grit my teeth after feeling some pain but ignore it. Rick and Daryl are already coming in and ready to pick up another load.

"Did you manage to scavenge any other supplies from the shops and houses around here?" I ask as I walk out the door and down the steps with both the men behind me.

"We found some things in some of the houses," Rick answers as he carries the third box of supplies toward the garage. "But most of these houses are empty."

"Yeah, I figured," I say as I place the bag of ammunition on the ground next to the truck.

Daryl jumps on top of flatbed of the pickup again and motions for Rick to hand him the supplies.

"This is a hell of a truck ya got here," Daryl comments as he places boxes on to the flatbed.

"Yeah, I took it from some whack jobs who attacked me some months ago," I say as I open the door to the driver's seat of the truck.

"That's a habit you have, huh? Runnin' into crazy people and gettin' into some deep shit," Daryl jokingly says.

"Apparently so," I reply with a chuckle as I toss my backpack on the seat. "But I know how to hold my own."

"I'm sure ya do," Daryl replies as he moves the boxes of supplies around the flatbed of the truck.

Rick exits the garage and walks back to the house to fetch more supplies. Daryl and I follow after him. Rick tosses the strap of the long bag full of ammunition over his shoulder. That was the last item we gathered to carry to the truck.

"Is that everythin'?" Rick asks as he glances around. "Is there anythin' else you wannna get?"

"Uhh, I don't believe I have anything else," I say glancing around in thought.

"Alright, then, let's go," Daryl says enthusiastically as he shifts the strap of his crossbow a bit and walks out the backdoor.

Rick and I follow after him and head to the garage. I walk toward the open door of the driver's seat as Daryl leaps on top of the flatbed once again.

"I call the back," he says as he sits down and leans his back against the cab of the truck.

I laugh a bit as I climbed into the driver's seat after taking the keys out of my pocket. Rick tosses the bag of ammunition on to the flatbed of the truck and walks over to the garage door. He pulls on the chain to the right, causing the garage door to go up with every pull. I stick the key into the ignition and the engine comes to life. As soon as the garage door is fully open, Rick walks to the passenger door of the truck and climbs in. I drive out of the garage, looking left and right, and head down the alleyway.

"Which street did you say your SUV is on?" I ask Rick as I glance around the area.

"Just through that alleyway and into the next street," he replies as he points.

We drive past some biters that are halted by some of the traps I set out. One has been pushed into a long sharp stick that pierced right through its torso in the front. Another lays motionless on the ground, its brains and skull splattered on the pavement by a large rock that fell from above.

"You have a lot of traps set up around this area," Rick observes.

"After having gone through all the ambushes and attacks," I say as I turn past the alley on to the street which Rick instructed me to drive to. "I figured I'd lay some traps around for security. I know the area like the back of my hand and the traps in it. In case shit went down, I knew where to go to detonate traps or distractions, both for biters and hostiles."

"Is that what helped you out with those men last night?"

"Yep. Without those traps, I could have been in worse shape than this wound on my side."

Rick nods as he gazes out the window.

"There's our SUV," he says as he points to the right side of the street.

I pull up next to the light, metallic green Hyundai. Daryl jumps off the flatbed and heads to the SUV as Rick climbs out of the truck and closes the door behind him. I observe them talking to each other.

'They're probably deciding on who's going to ride with me,' I think to myself as I pretend not to pay attention to them and fiddle with the car keys in the ignition.

Rick opens the passenger door and climbs in.

"Daryl will be leadin' the way," he says as he closes the door.

I nod as I watch Daryl drive the SUV past us and follow after him. There's a moment of silence in the pickup truck as we drive down the street and onto the highway. I rest my left elbow on the door as I keep my right hand on the steering wheel.

"Did you think I was going to drive off somewhere else?" I ask, breaking the silence.

Rick is surprised and sighs as he glances from left to right, shifting a bit in his seat.

"I'm sorry, I just still need to make sure I can trust you," Rick finally answers. "Please don't take it personal. We've gone through so many traumatic experiences due to trust issues…"

"Rick, I understand," I interrupt him. "I know exactly what you mean."

He looks over at me, but I don't meet his gaze and keep my eyes on the road with a serious face.

"I've gone through a lot of traumatic experiences due to trust before when I was in a group," I continue. "There are some people who you just can't trust. And when you make the mistake of doing so…you pay the price for it."

"You were in a group before?"

"Many, actually," I respond as I glance over at a biter who is hobbling down the road. "Too many where people ended up being killed by people we trusted. From our very own group! You'd think we'd only have to worry about hostiles and those things. But we weren't even safe amongst each other."

Rick stares at me in sorrow as he empathizes with me, remembering all that his group has been through.

"I was hesitating about joining your group, to be honest," I admit, interrupting his thoughts. "But I saw in your eyes that you were desperate…you have people who you care about. I couldn't resist sharing my supplies and helping you and your group – it's just in my nature to help those in need and to put others before myself."

Rick is astonished at my words and feels guilty for not being able to trust me. He rubs his chin and looks down in thought.

"You have kids, don't you?" I abruptly ask.

He glances over at me in surprise. I smile a bit and see that I'm right, judging by his reaction.

"I can tell. Your vibe and demeanor is that of a father's…I can see it in your eyes."

Rick continues to study me with his pensive blue eyes. I turn to him with a small smile and then turn my attention back on the road.

"Am I right?" I ask to break the silence.

Rick glances out the window as he places his hand on his jaw and rubs the scruff that runs along his jawline.

"You're right," he finally responds. "I have two kids: a boy and a girl. You'll meet'em when we arrive at the prison."

I smile to myself at the thought. But then my gaze changes into a serious one, my eyes full sorrow.

"You lost your wife…didn't you?"

I sense him tense up in his seat. He takes a look at his wedding ring. It was one of the first things I noticed about him. It made me remember my won wedding ring, which I no longer have.

"I did lose her…" Rick says, interrupting my thoughts.

Judging by the tension coming from him, I can tell he doesn't want to stay on the subject.

"I'm sorry…" I apologize, feeling a bit of shame. "I just met you, and here I am, getting into your personal business…"

"It's all right," he interrupts me. "You're just tryin' to get to know me…it's natural to do so when you're just joinin' a new group and meetin' new people."

I nod and don't respond, still feeling a bit bad for asking him that question. I place my left arm along the door again and cup my chin in my left hand, keeping my right hand on the steering wheel. Rick stares out the window, ignoring a legless corpse of a biter on the side of the road.

'He has a lot of pain in him…' I think to myself. 'I think he can sense mine as well.'

With that, we are silent. We continue to drive behind Daryl, past hundreds of trees of the woods around us, to the new place I'm going to call home. A new change.