Chapter 1:

Remington Whitaker is at the edge of the woods, her belt around her legs to keep her firmly on the branch as she slept lightly. The noise of the bugs and the birds was something that she got used to, and they wouldn't wake her anymore. The way they hadn't for the past two months. At least that's how long she thinks it had been—there's no way of really knowing, she was too confused, and frantic the first few weeks, she hadn't kept track of the days. Now it was impossible to know exactly how long it had been.

But she figures somewhere around two months—two months since she had a real home, and a bed to sleep in, and things like food and water at her fingertips. Two months since she had last seen or spoken to anyone familiar. Family, friends, a distant acquaintance…anything—anyone. It had been two months since Remy felt safe, which is something that's non-existent now—safety, that is, there was no longer a safe place to hide, a safe place to put your things down and relax. Safe didn't exist; finding even somewhere that wasn't fatally dangerous was extremely rare.

Finding somewhere that wasn't dangerous and had access to supplies was impossible. Anywhere near the city was risky, and even if a place was found that could be considered livable, supplies in the city were dwindling down to almost nothing. That's why everyone that's left alive is constantly forced to be on the move. Once looters came in, group after group, and took what they needed, there wasn't much left for anyone else. So to stay alive, it was necessary to move onto a different place that wasn't any safer than the last, just to try and get ahead of anyone else that might pop up and attempt to kill you for a stray can of vegetables.

And all that just to repeat the process over again when there was nothing else to steal. Temporary home after temporary home, nothing was permanent. Not anymore.

Remy jumps awake, the nightmare shaking her to the core. She wobbles on the branch and sticks the heels of her heavy boots into the branch to steady herself, she stays put, mostly because of the belt. She sighs, and looks into the sun directly above her head—noon. She had slept later than she thought, or had even meant to, but the nightmare always did the trick of waking her up.

Remy reaches up and grabs her bag, bow, and arrows from the branch above her head. She reaches forward and pulls on the loose strings in her boots, tying them tightly. She pulls the backpack on her shoulders, puts the sheath of arrows over her neck, the strap under one arm so it stayed on her back, and secures the bow the same way, before she un-notches the belt around her legs and climbs down the tree.

Remy slides her belt back through the loops of her jeans as she walks, sliding her backpack in front of her to dig through to the bottom, looking for a leftover protein bar, to no avail. She had run out of food, again. She sighs, and pulls out a water bottle, to find only enough water at the bottom for maybe one sip. One sip of warm water wasn't going to do her any good in the afternoon Georgia sun, Remy puts the near empty bottle back in the bag and looks to her right, toward the city.

Remy stops at the edge of the city, bow and arrows still securely attached to her body, shotgun slung on her back, pistol secured to her thigh. The moans of the dead meet her ears, as they wander aimlessly through the city streets. Remy takes alleys, and back roads to the center of the city where the noise gets louder. Remy now knew from experience that the empty alleys were the best way to go unnoticed by the geeks of the overrun city blocks.

Remy jumps the fence into an alley, and jogs quietly down to the ladder she had found a few weeks ago, and was used to using now. She slows, and backs up around the corner again when she sees the man standing by the ladder, stumbling along. Maybe the alleys weren't empty anymore… Remy takes out her knife and runs up behind the dead man, no noise coming from the worn out leather boots she wore. She stabs it in the back of the head, and it falls to the ground, dead for the second time. Remy conceals her knife again after wiping the blood on her jeans and climbs the ladder, entering the building through a window, where she can hear rummaging through the thin wall instantly.

Remy crouches down and trades the knife for her bow, sliding it off her shoulder, and pulling an arrow from the quiver. She attaches the arrow and slowly moves forward, keeping the wood floors from creaking under her boots. Remy holds the bow in front of her and moves toward the doorway, not knowing what to expect on the other side, not knowing how many dead would face her when she turned the corner. The shuffling in the room suddenly falls silent. Remy stops walking for a moment, and stands at the edge of the doorway, listening for the corpse's whereabouts in the room. She had never run into one of them inside the building, and it couldn't have been a good sign that she was running into them now. She would have to change locations again.

She tightens her grip on the bow and turns the corner, holding it up and pulling the draw back at the same time. Remy comes face to face with a different arrow, tightly secured in a crossbow, tightly secured in the hands of a man who didn't look like he was ready to eat her alive.

Remy holds her arrow up to his face still, because sometimes, the living could be just as dangerous as the walking dead. Her hazel eyes lock onto his blue ones. "You gonna put that down, or are you gonna pull the trigger?"

His eyes narrow. "Depends on what you do with that bow."

Remy looks at the three other men in the room. The four of them could easily overpower her, take her weapons, and leave her for dead. Or worse. One man in a police uniform catches her eye. "Hey, you that cop that rode in here on that horse yesterday?"

He stares at her for a moment, taking in how put together and disheveled she looks at the same time. How there was a fire blazing in her eyes, that seemed tame enough to not do anything irrational—like shoot a living person who hadn't made any move to hurt her. "Yeah."

Remy nods once. "I assumed you didn't make it. Good for you. Though I don't appreciate all those shots you let off."

An Asian man snaps out of a small daze, he couldn't take his eyes off her for a moment. The moment that she swung around the corner, aiming that bow like it was the last thing in the world. He didn't have to look far past the blood, sweat, and dirt to see how beautiful she was. And how beautifully tragic it was that he should meet a girl like her here. "You were here? In the city?"

Remy moves her gaze to the other man. "How else would I 'a saw him?"

He stutters for a moment. Remy recognizes the Asian man too. "You're the one that's always running in 'n outta here, grabbing supplies?"

He nods, swallowing a large lump in his throat. "How do you know?"

Remy shrugs. "Been livin in the woods right outside—always see you runnin into the buildings. Takin my food."

He thinks for a second. "You're the one that barricaded the alley, aren't you?"

"You're welcome." Remy mutters. She looks back to the man in front of her, her arm starting to ache from holding the drawl of her bow. She would ignore the pain if he decided to hold his crossbow up longer, because Remy would rather return the threat of death than just take it from someone else. "You gonna put that thing down or what?"

He stares down the arrow she has aimed at him. "Ladies first."

She sighs, and drops her bow, letting the draw go slowly. When there's no longer a crossbow aimed at her face she takes in a breath. "What are ya'll doin in the middle of the city? You know there's some dead people wanderin around outside that would jump at the chance to have you as a meal?"

"We could ask you the same thing." the cop replies.

Remy raises an eyebrow. "I asked you first."

"We're lookin for my brother," the one with the crossbow says, clearly losing his patience. Remy wants to laugh as the sentence begins its usual reiteration. Get back to the tree. Get back to the tree. "Seen him?"

"I've seen a lot of people," Remy replies vaguely. "Most of 'em don't make it very far."

"He would be hard to miss," he says. "Missin a hand."

Remy raises an eyebrow at the statement. "How'd he lose a hand?"

"Cut it off, handcuffed to the roof."

Remy scoffs. "So he's the idiot that was screamin his head off yesterday? Drew in damn near every walker within a mile."

"Nice of you to help him." crossbow snaps.

Remy rests her bored gaze on him. "I thought about it. Only thing I woulda done was get myself killed along with your brother, but obviously he didn't need help if he's willin to cut off his own hand."

Remy looks at the cop. "So I'm guessin' you handcuffed him? Bein the cop and all?"

He nods.

"Why didn't you let him out?" she inquires.

"I dropped the key," the other man speaks for the first time.

"Why didn't you pick it up?" Remy wonders plainly, and she sees crossbow roll his eyes, like he was wondering the same thing.

"It fell in a drain. The walkers were comin', I didn't have a choice." He says quietly.

Remy nods. "Well, sorry to say if he's stumbling around this city bleeding, and one armed—you probably ain't gonna find much left of him."

"He cauterized the wound," the crossbowed man speaks again. "So he ain't bleedin much."

Remy raises both eyebrows now. "He did it himself?"

Crossbow nods toward the stove on the other side of the room. Remy smirks. "Tough ass brother you got there. But that don't make it any better. If he cauterized the wound the pain could have sent him into shock. Which would also kill him and result in his insides being spilled on the pavement. But good luck finding him."

Remy walks into the hallway, and slides the arrow back into the quiver, and slings the bow back onto her shoulder. She begins rummaging around in the boxes littered around the hallway as she hears whispering coming from the kitchen.

"Hey!"

She looks back at the Asian man who's leading the other three, who are following after Remy.

"Can I help you?" she asks, opening another box.

"You got anywhere to stay?" he asks.

She glances back at him, and picks up another box. "What's it to you?"

He looks back at the other three. The cop steps forward. "It's just that I hate to leave you in the city alone. We have a camp set up not too far from here. It's safe."

Remy stands up straight, and stares at the wall in front of her for a second, thinking. She looks over at the man that appears to be their leader. "Didn't you leave crossbow's brother here? Handcuffed to a roof no less?"

"That was different."

She nods, and picks up another box. Still wary of the four men that were still much bigger than her, well, besides the lanky Asian, Remy decided it was best to test how skittish they were. "What makes you think I don't have a camp not far from here?"

"If you had camp set up around here, why would you bring all your stuff with you on a food run?" Asian man asks.

She smirks, and throws an empty box behind her. Get back to the tree. "Good thinkin. I don't have a good lie for that one."

"We have food and water, at camp." the cop presses, watching as she searches through boxes and continues to come up empty handed. "I get it, you don't trust us, and I know nothin I say is gonna make you believe that you can, but I was where you are just the other day. Rode in on the horse, remember?"

Remy stops and looks at the four of them, looking at them all in the eyes for the first time. They all looked at her with sincerity—except for crossbow, but Remy got the feeling that sincere wasn't a common trait displayed from him. The cop though, she could read him easily—still a leader, understanding—and she couldn't not trust him.

A groan came from behind Remy. She spun around as the walker rounded the corner and reached out toward her. She kicked it in the stomach, sending it backwards. Remy grabbed her knife from her belt and shoved the walker against the wall. She sent her knife through its eye, and twisted it, making sure to be thorough.

She pulls the knife from its skull and lets the walker drop to the dirty floor.

"And we could definitely use some of that too," the cop nods toward the walker.

"I appreciate the offer." Remy declines, sliding the knife back into her belt. Get back to the tree. "It's for your benefit that I don't come back with you. I don't exactly play well with others."

"Well Daryl doesn't either, it's no big deal!" The Asian man exclaims. Crossbow glares at him.

Remy nods, giving him a slight smirk. "Good to know."

"Look, she don't wanna come with us, can we go look for Merle now?" crossbow half demands.

Remy scoffs, picking up a box of unopened protein bars. "I'd listen to him. Might wanna get outta here soon, though. They do most of their walkin at night. Kinda makes it harder to get away from 'em."

Remy disappears into the room the walker came from and left the building through a window, and down a ladder. She put the box in her backpack, and went back to the end of the alley. Remy jumped the fence and ran back into the woods, shotgun in hand.

"What's to stop my people from unloading on you right here and now, and I take what's mine?"

Remy rolls her eyes and leans her back against the brick wall, the face off going on just on the other side. In the time it had taken her to get to Guillermo's, the cops group had found it as well.

"You could do that—or not."

Remy doesn't know what the cop had up his sleeve, but she was hoping it was something good.

Guillermo calls out what appears to be a signal and Remy manages to see this time what the other side had to bring to the table. The Asian kid was on top of the building—his arms behind his back, two men holding him up. Remy rolls her eyes—having heard enough.

She turns the corner and strolls forward. "Guillermo, you over-dramatic son of a bitch."

Everyone turns to Remy, and she nods once to the cop and crossbow.

Guillermo wants to sigh at the sight of Remy. Now was not the time.

Remy stops between the two groups, and looks up at the Asian kid, and then back to Miguel. She looks at Guillermo. "All of this for a kid with a pot leaf tattooed on his neck? Really?"

"Hey! That's my cousin puta!"

Remy smirks at Felipe. "What did I tell you about calling me a bitch Felipe? You want another arrow to the foot? Trust me, this time I won't do you any favors and miss the important veins."

"Girl, I cannot stress how much now is not the time for your bullshit." Guillermo glances at her. "I'm in the middle of something."

Felipe glares at her and Remy looks to Guillermo. "Right, sorry to break up the party, but I think I'll be cashing in that favor now."

Guillermo nods toward the building behind him. "Wait inside."

Remy looks around once more, and sees the last man from the mall on a roof across the small opening. She taps her bow against her thigh thoughtfully and then goes into the building, making sure to knock her shoulder into Felipe as she walks by. "Cabrone." she mutters, earning a glare from Filipe.

Remy walks through the dark entrance and slings her bow over her shoulder, sliding her light backpack off her shoulders. Remy drops it onto a table and pulls out the box of protein bars, leaving them for Guillermo's group grudgingly. Remy needed them—but she needed something else even more. Something only Guillermo had.

The three men return only moments later, and Remy whistles nonchalantly.

Guillermo stops in front of her. "Whatchu want?"

Remy looks over to him. "How's your day going?"

"Don't play games with me right now Remy." he demands. "We're running out of drugs, okay? I can't keep owing you 'favors'. Tell me what you want and how much of it so I can get you out of here."

Remy smirks.

Remy doesn't know how long it is, but Felipe's the first one to make an appearance, only because one of the men needed his medicine. The cop and crossbow and the man from the roof follow Guillermo in, along with his grandmother. Remy stands beside Glenn, and sees the cop eying him.

"What the hell is this?" he demands.

"Asthma attack, couldn't get his breath all of a sudden." Glenn informs them.

"Thought you were gettin eaten by dogs man." the dark skinned man snaps, and Remy can't help but laugh. The four men look at her.

"Guillermo gave you the old 'picked em up at Satan's yard sale' speech didn't he?" Remy turns and points to the three Chihuahuas laying in the dog bed a few feet away.

The cop looks to Guillermo. "Can I have a word with you?"

The cop and Guillermo move to the side and Remy slaps Glenn on the shoulder. "Right, well have fun."

Remy starts to walk away but Glenn grabs her arm to stop her. Remy spins around and glares down at Glenn's hand on her wrist. He let's go quickly and Remy meets his eyes when he apologizes. "Thank you." he says quietly.

"What're you thankin her for?" crossbow demands.

Glenn looks over. "She came here because Guillermo owed her a favor. She asked him to let me go instead."

Remy sighs lightly as she feels the eyes on her. Remy's head pounds, but she ignores it as she walks out of the room, and across the terrace outside, and back through the garage to go back toward the city. She didn't need to be thanked—she didn't want to be thanked, and Remy didn't want to be part of a group. She didn't need people to take care of—people to care about, because Remy had been there before, and she didn't ever need to be there again.