Walking Dead Fanfiction

Summary: Tara's family dies sooner than season 4. She left her apartment to escape the constant reminder and along the way she runs into Rick – who has just woken up from his coma.

This version of The Walking Dead finds Tara at the center of the story and a main character right from the beginning. Because she couldn't protect her family and she witnesses the awful event, she's a bit OOC. She's slightly hardened and depressed. Her presence changes some things in their world along the way, but ultimately she becomes a beloved member of Rick's group.

Tara is still a little clumsy, but also has bad luck. Bad things will usually happen to her.

She is 23 years old at the beginning instead of her age in the series, which I assume is late twenties to mid-thirties.

Chapter One: Days Gone Bye

There was no point. Maybe there would be if she wasn't alone, but her family is gone and Tara didn't know if living was worth anything anymore.

She took a deep breath, sitting on the side of the road in a random neighborhood, and raised her gun to her temple. She didn't know what was in the afterlife, or if there was even something after. She wasn't sure if there's a God or Heaven and Hell. But whatever was next… had to be better than this.

"Wait!"

Tara didn't think twice to point her gun away from herself and at the sudden appearance of an ill-looking man who nearly tripped while getting off his bike.

"Wait," He held his hands up weakly. "Please, don't shoot,"

"Who are you?" She kept her eyes narrowed at him.

"My name is Rick Grimes,"

"Okay, Rick Grimes. Were you bit?"

"I – I don't know what's going on," He looked around and Tara acknowledged he looked confused. And pale. And she spotted a bandage on his stomach through the opening of his hospital gown.

"Were. You. Bit," She demanded, warily getting to her feet.

"Bit by what?"

Now Tara was confused. "Have you been living under a rock? It's the end of the fucking world. We're living in an apocalyptic shitstorm filled with the walking dead. So were you bit by a fucking zombie," Tara's voice tightened, daring the man to play dumb one more time.

"I – I just woke up. In the hospital," He breathed heavily. "I was – was in a coma,"

She scoffed. "Well that sucks," She lowered her gun. "So what's that bandage for then? What happened?"

"I – uhm," Rick shook his head, brain trying to catch up with what this younger woman said. "I was shot. I'm a – I'm a sheriff's deputy – did you say zombie?"

"Dude," Tara took to sitting on the ground again and leaned forward, her elbow resting on her thigh and holding up her head. "People died and rose again. As zombies. Dead ones. Flesh eaters. Walking dead. Whatever you wanna call them,"

Tara watched his eyes widen in disbelief. "No. That – That's impossible,"

"Haven't you seen all the dead people?"

Rick, breathing heavier, looked around in shock. No, he didn't see any wandering dead people. But his neighborhood looked deserted and he did see a mutilated woman when he found the bike. He was too shocked and worried about his family to even question it. Shaking his head once his eyes landed back on his house, he began stumbling across the street. "Carl! Lori!"

"Shush!" Tara quickly got to her feet and followed to shut the man up before he alerted every dead pe`rson on the street.

"Lori!" Rick burst into his home in a panic. "Carl!"

"Rick, don't be so loud!" Tara hissed at the man, following him inside.

"My – My wife and son,"

"I'm sorry," Tara said, already assuming the worst. "They're probably not here. The entire street is deserted, apart from the dead ones,"

"No," Rick shook his head. "The photos are gone," He said, pointing at the empty walls and hurrying up the stairs. He came back down a few minutes later. "Some clothes are gone. Only enough to travel with,"

"So they left. Doesn't mean they survived,"

He turned on her. "Yes, they did!" Tara jumped a little at his anger and he sighed. "I'm – I'm sorry, but they did. I have to believe that,"

"Okay, but where would they go?"

"I don't know,"

Tara watched Rick's face twist into a pitiful look of desperation before he fell to his knees and sobbed into his hands. Tara didn't know what to do at this point and looked around awkwardly. This was what she probably looked like days ago, when she lost her own family. How embarrassing…

"Wake up! Wake up!" He slammed his hand against his head.

"Okay okay," Tara stopped the broken deputy, kneeling beside him. He looked up at her. "Maybe they are alive. But they're not here and I don't think they're coming back,"

He nodded. "I have to find them,"

Tara bit her lip, looking around in thought before deciding. "Then let's go,"

Rick stared at her. "You're coming with me? We just met,"

"I don't have anything else going on," Tara shrugged and stood back up. "Unless you'd rather me not go with you,"

"No. No," Rick nodded. "I'd love the help, thank you,"

She nodded. "Yeah, whatever. Now get up, Deputy,"

He stood weakly and Tara finally called him out on his appearance.

"Are you sick, or something? Maybe we should just wait until you're better,"

"No, I'm fine," Rick ignored her concern and stumbled outside where he fell to his knees in his yard.

"Shit," Tara sighed and wearily headed toward him. She stepped outside just as she noticed a young boy come out of nowhere and whack him in the head. "Rick!"

"Daddy! Daddy!" The dark skinned boy was startled by the woman and backed up, tripping over Rick, who was now lying on his back in a daze.

"Duane!" His dad ran up the street, shooting a walker on his way before aiming the gun at Tara who drew her own weapon just as fast.

"Daddy, I got one," The boy told him, running to his side for protection.

"Carl," Rick groaned.

"Son, you know they don't talk," The man said, eyes glancing down at the pale man and his bandaged wound.

"He's not dead," Tara called over to him, walking cautiously closer. "Just a little sick, I think,"

"What kind of wound?"

"Gunshot,"

"Are you bit?"

"No,"

Satisfied that both pairs of strangers weren't a threat, Tara and the man lowered their guns.

The man put his gun away and nodded to Rick. "Help me with him. Maybe I can help,"

She nodded and put her own gun away. "Thank you,"

He walked over to her while she to him. "Morgan Jones,"

"Tara Chambler," They shook hands.

"This is my son, Duane,"

She nodded to the boy. "Nice to meet you Duane,"

The boy nodded back. "You too,"

Now introduced, the adults carefully drag the unconscious man to Morgan's home. Morgan gets him settled in the guest room and cleans up his wound while Duane led Tara to the living room where it appeared him and his father slept.

"I'm sorry I hit your friend,"

Tara shrugs nonchalantly. "You thought he was a dead one,"

"Dad and I call them walkers,"

"Okay then. You thought he was a walker,"

"You his girlfriend?"

Tara gagged playfully. "Gross, no," Duane laughs. "I just met him, like… Thirty minutes ago,"

"Really?"

"Yep,"

"So how'd you find each other? Where's your family?"

"Duane," The two of them looked up to Morgan, who stood just inside the hall watching them. "Sorry. We haven't seen any other survivors for a while now. I think he forgot that we should assume the worst and leave it at that," He walked up to his son and sat on the ground next to him.

"I get that. Just don't let Rick hear you say it," Tara said.

"Rick. That's his name?"

"Yeah. Rick Grimes. He just found out his family fled their home when Duane whacked him in the head,"

Duane lowered his head in embarrassment, but Tara gave him a playful smirk so he'd know she was just teasing and he smiled back.

"He thinks they're alive?"

"His wife packed some photos, I guess. And some clothes,"

Morgan chuckled. "My wife was the same way. I packed survival gear, she…" He shook his head with a fond smile.

Tara's smile was much smaller as she remembered her dad, sister, a niece. Only the good memories. She just needed to remember the good times, if only for a minute.

"Are you gonna help him?" Duane spoke up. "Find his family?"

Tara nodded. "I have nothing else to do. Why not be useful?" She sighed. "If I can help someone then maybe I can get some hope back, you know?"

Morgan smiled at the prospect of what she just said.

"How is Rick, by the way?"

"He had a fever, but I cleaned up his wound and replaced the bandage. Maybe some rest will make him feel a little better,"

"Thank you,"

"Glad I could help, but I'm still not sure if he can be trusted. I mean, you seem like a nice enough person, but I think I heard you say you just met him,"

"Yeah," She nodded.

"What do you know about him?"

"Just that he was looking for his family and had been in a coma,"

"A coma?"

"He said he just woke up from one and had no idea what was going on. He didn't even know about the walkers,"

"So he might not have told you he was bit,"

She thought about it, then shrugged. "I guess not,"

Morgan shook his head and stood up. "Duane, why don't you go get a board game or something," He looked to Tara. "You mind keeping him company? I'd feel more comfortable waiting for your friend to wake up to be sure he wasn't bit or something,"

"We got scrabble," Duane noted, not looking that thrilled.

Tara smiled. "I love that game,"

The hours ticked by and the sun went down. Downstairs, Tara entertained Duane with his board games and comics while upstairs, Morgan sat beside the stranger tied up in his guest bed. Baseball bat in hand. Just in case.

He did briefly wonder if he was right to trust Tara. They just met, but she seemed harmless enough. Her eyes weren't cold and her demeaner was as normal as one can get in an apocalypse. Morgan would be lying if he said Tara being a woman didn't play a factor in his trust.

Soon enough, Rick began to stir and opened his eyes. Morgan leaned forward. "Finally awake,"

Rick grunted in response, still feeling a little dazed.

"Got that bandage changed. It was pretty rank,"

Rick swallow and breathed as he got his bearings. He nodded a little. "Thank you,"

"Your friend, Tara. She told me that wound is from a gunshot?"

Rick look up to where his hands are tied to the bed. He squinted a little in thought, remembering the woman he met. He laughs a little. "So that's her name? Tara?" He looks at him.

"Yeah,"

"I was too distracted to ask…"

"She said you were in a coma,"

"I was,"

"Do you know about the walkers? The dead that woke up?"

Rick sighed, closing his eyes. He couldn't believe what he was told happened. "She told me about them,"

"So… Were you bit or anything else? Scratched maybe?"

"No. I got shot, just as far as I know,"

Morgan reaches out to him, but Rick flinches back.

"Hey, just let me," Morgan told the man. He touches Rick's forehead with the back of his hand. "Feels cool enough. Fever would've killed you by now,"

"I don't think I have one,"

"Be hard to miss," Morgan's expression turns cold and he takes out a switchblade and holds it in front of Rick's face. "Take a moment, look how sharp it is," Rick leans his head away from the knife. "You try anything, I will kill you with it and don't you think I won't,"

Morgan cuts the bungee cords he used to tie Rick to the bed. He closes the knife and pockets it.

He stands up and heads for the door to go back to his son and Tara. "Come on out when you're able,"

Downstairs, Morgan is at the dining room table with Duane, serving a meal to Tara who accepted the food gratefully. They hear footsteps and looked to the entryway to see Rick coming in. He has a blanket over his bare shoulders and hospital shorts and is looking around.

"This place – Fred and Cindy Drakes'?"

"Never met 'em," Morgan says, setting up the plates for the four of them.

"I've been here. This is their place,"

"It was empty when we got here,"

Rick walks to the window to look outside, but before he can pull the curtain back Morgan stops him.

"Don't do that. They'll see the light. There's more of them out there than usual," He sighs. "I never should've fired that gun today. Sound draws them. Now they're all over the street. Stupid – using a gun. But it all happened so fast, I didn't think,"

Morgan picks up a large tin can with towels and sets it on the table. He picks up a sterno can and blows it out. Rick walks away from the window and to the table. Morgan sits down in the seat across from Tara.

"That man today. The one you shot…"

Morgan shrugs. "Man?"

"It weren't no man,"

Morgan glares at his son. "What the hell was that out of your mouth just now?"

Duane sighed. "It wasn't a man,"

Rick nods and takes a seat across from Duane. "So. That was a – a walker?"

Morgan spoons food onto Rick's plate. Hungry, he spoons a mouthful but is stopped by Duane before he can eat.

"Daddy, blessing,"

Rick freezes and Morgan nods in agreement. "Yeah,"

Morgan looks at Rick. Duane takes his father's hand and Morgan puts his hand on one of Rick's. Duane reaches out for Tara's and she takes it. Rick hesitates. Duane looks at him expectantly and Tara hold out her other hand. Rick, with disbelief, puts down the spoon and takes Tara's hand. They bow their heads.

"Lord, we thank thee for this food, thy blessings." Morgan opens his eyes and looks at Rick. "And we ask you to watch over us in these crazy days. Amen,"

Duane is the only one to repeat. "Amen,"

Tara, Rick and Duane eat.

"Hey, mister, you even know what's going on?"

Rick nods, but it's hesitant. "I know what Tara told me," He glances to her and sees that she's eating with her eyes drooping. "I woke up today in the hospital, came home. That's when I saw her and she let me know about the dead. I saw a lot of that out on the loading dock, piled in trucks. But none that were still kicking…" He eats another spoon full.

"The walkers, like the one I shot today, he'd have ripped into you, tried to eat you, taken some flesh at least,"

"They're out there now? In the street?" They can hear them growling outside.

"Yeah. They get more active after dark sometimes. Maybe it's the cool air or hell, maybe it's just me firing that gun today. But we'll be fine as long as we stay quiet. Probably wander off by morning. But listen," He leans forward and points his spoon at him. "One thing I do know – don't you get bit," He returns to eating. "I saw your bandage and that's what we were afraid of. Bites kill you. The fever burns you out. But then after a while…you come back,"

Duane nods. "Seen it happen,"

The memory makes Duane sad. Morgan squeezes his arm and smiles at Duane. Tara, too, frowned at her own memories. Tara closed her eyes and felt herself falling asleep. When her head started falling she gasped and jerked back, shaking her head. The group stared at her for a moment.

"When was the last time you slept?" Morgan asked.

She shrugged. "I can't even remember," She returned to eating like nothing happened.

"Well, let's finish up and rest for the night,"

Leaning up against the wall by the dining room, Morgan sits on the sleeping pallet he and Duane share. Across the room, Rick lies on a bed made of couch cushions. He's still wrapped in his blanket. A few feet away on some heavy blankets, Tara was lying down, staring at the ceiling waiting to fall asleep. She could only guess that she has been awake for the last two days, or possibly more. It seemed like she only slept when she found a safe place to do so. But in the week since leaving her home, she rarely found a place.

The crickets chirped as she zoned out in an exhausted, half-asleep state while the others talked quietly. Just as it seemed she'd finally get to sleep, a car alarm went off and she jumped into seated position about ready to jump for her gun.

Duane jumped to, just as startled and clung to his dad.

"Hey. It's okay. Daddy's here. It's nothing. One of them must have bumped a car,"

"Are you sure?" Both Rick and Tara asked.

Morgan nods. "It happened once before. It went on for a few minutes. Get the light, Duane,"

Rick and Morgan get up while Duane turns down the lantern light. Rick turns down the second one and Tara gets to her feet as well.

Morgan goes to the bay window at the front of the house. It's been boarded up loosely then covered with blankets to keep in the light. He carefully pulls them apart and peers outside. He stands beside Rick while Tara decides they're safe for now and slides down the wall beside her bed of blankets, choosing to simply lean against the wall rather than try sleeping again. The street outside is crowded with clumsy, shuffling corpses. Several of them walk toward a late model sedan; its lights flash in time with the alarm that had startled Duane and Tara.

"It's the blue one, on the street. The same one as last time. I think we're okay," Morgan says.

Rick looks unsure. "That noise – won't it bring more of them?"

"Nothing we can do about it now. Just have to wait 'em out till morning,"

Duane had been looking around outside when he suddenly gasps. "She's here,"

Tara peers over at him to see the young boy's shaken demeaner.

"Don't look. Get away from the windows," Morgan nudges him away. "I said go. Go on," Reluctantly, Duane leaves the window and lies on the bed in a fit of sobs.

Morgan goes over to him, not just to comfort him, but to make sure his cries aren't heard by the walkers outside.

"Duane, Duane, quiet now. Come on, quiet now. Shh shh,"

Tara felt for the boy, she really did. She felt that she could try and help comfort him with her own losses. But soon enough, she was nodding off to sleep and eventually slid to the side – curling up in a ball among the blankets against the wall.

Tara, Rick, Morgan, and Duane came out of the Drake's house the next morning. All the walkers are gone except one lying against the picket fence.

Rick looks back at the group. "Are we sure they're dead? I have to ask at least one more time,"

Morgan nods. "They're dead, except for something in the brain. That's why it's got to be the head,"

Rick approaches the walker. It slowly gets up to attack, but Rick hits it in the head over and over with a baseball bat.

Rick stops, stumbling onto his knees and groaning in pain. He's still sore from his wound and collapses to the ground. He looks like he might get sick.

"Rick, you okay?" Tara goes over to him.

He nods. "I need a moment,"

They let Rick rest for a few moments before he stands up and leads them back toward his former home. Rick walks into his house with his new companions behind him.

"They're alive – my wife and son. At least they were when they left," Rick says, bat in hand and blood splattered on the shirt Morgan gave him.

"How can you know? By the look of this place–"

"I found empty drawers in the bedroom. They packed some clothes. Not a lot, but enough to travel," Rick said, not liking what Morgan was suggesting.

"You know anybody could've broken in here and stole them clothes, right?"

Rick gestures around with the baseball bat. "You see the framed photos on the walls? Neither do I. Some random thief take those too, you think?" He goes through a nearby dresser. "Our photo albums, family pictures – all gone,"

Morgan nods and takes a seat at the table. "Tara mentioned them,"

"They're in Atlanta, I bet," Duane spoke up.

Morgan nodded. "That's right,"

"What's in Atlanta?" Tara asks, also taking a seat.

"Refugee center. A huge one they said, before the broadcast stopped. Military protection, food, shelter. They told people to go there, said it'd be safest,"

"Plus they got that disease place," Duane says.

"The Center for Disease Control. Said they were working out how to solve this thing,"

Rick walks to the kitchen, opens a cupboard and takes keys from a hook. He goes back to the group, showing the keys. "Keys to the Sherriff's Department. We can see if they have any guns we can take,"

At the police station, Rick opens a door, flooding a darkened department kitchen with light. They enter cautiously. Rick leads the way with a flash light and out through another hallway. Finally, they reach the Sherriff's Department locker room where Rick tries the showers. The water comes out clean and strong.

"Gas lines have been down for maybe a month," Morgan tells.

Rick smiles. "The station's got its own propane system," He puts his hand in the water. and smiles wider. "Pilot's still on,"

Morgan and Duane exchange happy looks and Rick turns to Tara. "We also have a separate locker room for woman. Come on, I'll show you,"

Tara nods and follows him back to the hallway and into another locker room. The two of them are careful and check for walkers before deciding it's safe and Rick leaves Tara to shower.

Tara takes a moment to breathe, sitting on the bench with her thoughts. She knew that today, she could have been dead. She was so ready to end it before Rick came along. When she saw a broken man in need, she put all her focus on something good. Helping a husband and father get back to his family. Even if there's a possibility they're already dead. But really, Tara was relieved Rick stopped her. She was afraid of her own death. She didn't like the idea of not knowing what would happen next.

Tara sniffed, finding herself with tears sliding down her cheeks and chest tightening. She leaned forward and rested her head in her hands. She kept her crying quiet, but little sobs echoed around the room.

She was so deep in her own misery, that she didn't hear the growling…

In one of the shower stalls, a decaying female walker heard the sound of Tara's cries and seemingly woke up to eat. It crawled to it's feet and stumbled out and toward the crying woman.

Tara thought about her family's last moments and wondered if things could have been different.

On the other side of the room, a second walker pushed open a locker room closet door. The walker, a large man, rounded the lockers. How they missed two of them is bad luck and carelessness.

"Rawr!" Tara gasps and spins around onto her feet, stumbling back a little when the male walker lunges at her from behind and trips over the bench.

"Arawr!"

Tara screams when the second one appears beside her and grabs at her. She jumps away from her, but the attempt to get away from the both of them causes her to stumble onto her back and her gun that was stashed just inside the top of her jeans gets knocked out and slides across the tile.

"Arrr!" Both walkers clamber after her and the female one grabs at her.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Tara screams again and kicks her away, getting to her feet and tries to get to her gun, but the male walker manages to grab her ankle, still lying on the floor from his fall, and she trips to the ground. Her forehead smacks against the tile with a heavy thud.

The locker room door slams open. Rick and Morgan rush in wearing only boxers. Morgan smashes the male walker's head in with his bat and Rick does the same with the other, but with the grip of his gun.

"Tara, are you okay?" Rick went to her side.

She groaned, sluggishly twisting around to sit up. She rubbed her forehead where she could tell a bump was already forming. "I didn't see them coming…"

"We should have checked better,"

Tara nods in agreement. "Lesson learned,"

"So are you okay?" Morgan asks.

Tara knew he was really asking if she was bit or something. "Yeah, I'm good," She stands up. "Thanks. I just wanna shower and get out of here,"

After they showered, Rick lead them to a weapon cage.

"A lot of its gone missing," He says, taking a rifle down and checks it out.

Duane looks at all the guns. "Daddy, can I learn to shoot? I'm old enough,"

"Hell yes, you're gonna learn, but we've got to do it carefully, teach you to respect the weapon,"

"That's right," Rick agrees. It's not a toy. You pull the trigger, you have to mean it. Always remember that, Duane,"

"Yes, Sir,"

Tara checks out a Smith & Wesson gun and moves around Rick to grab it eagerly. Rick can't help but smile and shake his head at her look of amazement. As if it were Christmas.

"So Tara, how did you learn to shoot?" He asks her.

"Police Academy," She says casually.

"You're a police officer?"

She sighs. "No. I didn't get to graduate before all this crap started,"

Morgan grabs a weapon bag and puts it on the table. "Here. Load up,"

Rick picks up a Remington rifle with a scope. He checks out the sight before he hands it to Morgan. "You take that one. Nothing fancy, the scope's accurate," Morgan looks intently at Rick and checks the weapon. Duane loads ammo and Rick checks out a shot gun.

Once they finished packing up weapons and ammo, Rick, his hands full, kicks open the outside door and walks up a flight of steps to ground level. Morgan and Duane walk with him. They are similarly burdened. Tara follows behind with a backpack filled with a separate stash for her and Rick.

"Conserve your ammo. It goes faster than you think, especially at target practice," Rick tells Morgan and Duane.

Morgan nods. "Duane?"

"Uh-huh?"

He gives Duane a bag. "Take this to the car,"

"Okay,"

"Are you sure you won't come along?" Rick asks.

"We can help each other out," Tara says.

"A few more days. By then Duane will know how to shoot and I won't be so rusty,"

Rick opens the car door; Morgan looks around to check on Duane. Rick grabs a walkie-talkie. It clicks on in a static noise.

"You've got one battery. I'll turn mine on a few minutes every day at dawn. You get up there, that's how you'll find me,"

Morgan smiles and accepts it. "You think ahead,"

"Can't afford not to. Not anymore,"

"Listen, one thing," Morgan looks at the two intently. "They may not seem like much one at a time, but in a group, all riled up and hungry – Man you watch your asses,"

"You too," He and Rick clasp hands.

"You're a good man, Rick. I hope you find your wife and son,"

He and Tara clasp hands next. "Stay alive," Tara says. "I hope to see you and Duane soon,"

"We hope so too,"

"Be seeing you, Duane," Rick nods to the boy and they shake hands. "Take care of your old man,"

"Yes sir,"

"Nice meeting you little man," Tara smiles and holds out a fist. Duane smiles and fist bumps her.

As they are about to leave Morgan looks over Rick's shoulder. Seeing his demeanor change Rick turns around. A walker, in a sheriff's uniform, approaches from the street, a restraint chain hangs from his left hand.

"Leon Basset?" Rick recognizes the man. Morgan pulls Duane close. "I didn't think much of him. Careless and dumb, but I can't leave him like this.

The walker growls. It's stopped by a chain link gate topped with razor wire.

"You know they'll hear the shot,"

"Let's not be here when they show up,"

Morgan ushers his son away and to the car while Rick and Tara stay behind. Rick looks to his new companion. "Here. Start the car so we can leave in a hurry," He holds out a set of keys.

Tara takes them with a small smile. "Can I drive?"

"Do you know how?"

Tara scoffs. "Do I know how…" She rolls her eyes and heads to the car.

Once in the Deputy's car, Tara watches in the rearview mirror as Rick says his goodbyes to the dead cop he once knew, then shoots him in the forehead.

"Wait, pull over here,"

Tara does as she's told. "Why?"

Rick gets out and walks onto the grass. Tara watches him examine an area. He puts on his hat and looks deeper into the park. Rick walks across green grass and through shady trees. The clover studded lawns are empty. He keeps searching, then Tara loses sight of him.

Rick has walked further into the trees. He is walking along in the green of the trees. The walker he was searching for has left a darkened trail across the grass as it's worked its way through the trees. Rick kneels beside it.

In the park the half walker in the grass senses Rick, turns and reaches weakly up toward him, growling.

Rick looks on in sympathy. "I'm sorry this happened to you,"

He takes out his gun, braces himself and shoots her through the head. He tears up, visibly shaken. Rick walks away from the now silent corpse and back to Tara.

She notices when he sits back in the passenger seat that he's slightly distraught. "You okay?"

He nods. "Yeah. Let's just head to Atlanta,"

Tara drives the patrol car out and onto a paved country road past houses and fields. Beside her, Rick has a radio that crackles alive.

"Broadcasting on Emergency Channel. Will be approaching Atlanta on highway 85. Anybody reads, please respond," Rick speaks into it then waits a few moments before trying again. "Hello. Hello. Can anybody hear my voice? Anybody out there? Anybody hears me, please respond. Hello, can you hear my voice?" He waits again. "Hello. Hello. Can anybody hear my voice?"

"Are you sure that works?" Tara asks.

"Yes. Well, as long as someone else has one…" He speaks again. "Can you hear my voice? If anybody reads please respond,"

Rick continues to talk over the radio, repeating again and again where they are headed and if anyone is out there.

"Uh-oh," Tara sighs as the car slows down to a complete stop some miles later. "We're out of gas,"

"I have a gas can in the truck," Rick says. "We'll walk from here. Maybe we'll find something helpful,"

Tara nods and gets out of the car. Rick pulls down his visor to look at his photo of him, his wife, and their son attached to the inside. He takes the photo down and puts it in his uniform pocket.

Tara opens the trunk and Rick helps gather their things. They abandon the car, walking down the highway with their ammo bags and a gas can. They're silent, for the most part. But after a while, Rick finally talks.

"So, how's your head?"

Tara shrugs. "The bump hurts, but I'm cool,"

"Thanks again for volunteering to come with me. It's probably safer to travel together anyway,"

"I'm sure you didn't need me. It's not like I was busy or anything,"

"Tara. When we first met… Were you about to–"

"No. Rick," Tara's voice tightened, and Rick suddenly felt a coldness between them.

"Okay," He decided now wasn't the best time to confront her almost suicide. She was probably lost in this apocalypse and thought it was best at the time.

They finally stop in the driveway of a farm house and head closer. "Hello? Police officer out here. Can I borrow some gas?" He calls out, nearing the front porch.

Tara scoffs. "Dude. This world is shit. Whoever is in there is probably dead," She takes a few steps closer and calls out a little louder than Rick. "Hey! Anybody alive in there?"

Rick leaves his bags in the driveway and walks toward the house where he puts the gas can down, too. Rick walks up the front steps to the door. "Hello?" He knocks on the door. "Hello? Anybody home?"

He peers in through the door window but doesn't see anyone. He walks down the porch and looks into another window and finally the living room window. Flies are buzzing around inside the house. Rick, horrified, sees a man on the couch, gunshot to his head, a shotgun dropped nearby. On the floor is a woman, also shot dead. On the wall above the couch is a message written in blood. It reads… God forgive us. Rick recoils, shaken. He goes back into the yard and sits down under a tree and spits.

Tara follows and stands in front of him. "Well?"

"Dead," Looking up he sees a pickup truck. He stands and Tara follows him to search the truck. They don't find the keys inside and Rick starts walking back to the house.

Tara stops in her tracks and smiles. In a short distance, she spots a beautiful, light brown horse. It neighs, alerting Rick.

Ricks laughs. "Well look at that," He goes searching around the truck and finds a lead, goes through the field gate and approaches the horse. It neighs.

"Easy now. Easy," He calms the animal down. "I'm not gonna hurt you, nothing like that. More like a proposal," He smiles. "Atlanta's just down the road a ways. It's safe there – food, shelter, people," He's gently petting his neck. "Other horses too, I bet. How's that sound?"

Tara smiles at how Rick is communicating with the horse.

He puts the rope around his neck. "There we go. Good boy. Good boy. Good boy. Now come with me. Come on. Come on. Good boy,"

With the lead around its neck the horse lets Rick take him to the barn to be saddled. Tara chooses to stay put. Minutes later, Rick is up on horseback. He rides up to Tara and she hesitates. Rick holds out his hand.

"Coming?"

She crosses her arms. "I don't know. I've never ridden a horse before,"

"It'll be okay," She still hesitates. "Are you afraid of heights?"

She sighs. "More like afraid of falling," She grabs his hand and puts her foot in the holder. "I'm a bit clumsy…"

He pulls her up and behind him. She wraps her arms around his torso and he can feel her tense up.

"Just hang on tight and you won't fall off,"

"Okay," She tightens her hold.

Rick makes the horse go forward. "Just go easy, okay?" He says to it. "I haven't done this for years,"

Horse takes off at a run. "Whoa, whoa whoa whoa!" Tara gasps and tightens her hold even more.

The horse neighs and begins to run.

"Easy now. Easy boy, easy. Easy. Easy. Easy. Eas – Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa,"

Rick walks the horse into the town across a bridge and over paved streets lined with skyscrapers. As Rick, Tara, and the horse go deeper into Atlanta the streets become littered with trash, wrecked cars, abandoned cars, and even a helicopter left in the middle of the street. They ride past a crashed bus. A few walkers sitting in the bus are roused and begin to follow them, growling.

The horse whinnies at the walkers and Rick urges him to a canter. "Steady," He tells him.

"There's just a few. Nothing we can't outrun. Okay whoa whoa whoa,"

Far enough away from the walkers Rick slows the horse and turns down a different street. He walks past a tank, overturned vehicles and an abandoned roadblock. Crows are scavenging on a soldier's remains up on the tank. As Rick walks the horse past the tank they hear a helicopter. They look up and around, searching for it. Rick sees the helicopter reflected in the windows of a skyscraper.

"Hyah!"

The horse, urged to a run, neighs and takes off. Rick runs the horse down the street with his eyes up in the air on the craft. He turns the corner where the street is full of walkers and Tara gasps.

She speaks quietly to Rick. "This doesn't look good,"

The walkers catch sight of the duo and begin toward them, growling.

The horse rears in disgust and, unprepared, Tara's grip loosens and she falls back with a quiet shriek. She slams into the ground.

"Tara!"

Fear and adrenalin coursing through her veins, Tara ignores the pain from her fall and grabs Rick's outstretched hand to pull her back on as fast as possible. She holds onto him tighter and Rick turns the horse around, running him back the way they came with the walkers following after. Rick approaches the tank which is now surrounded by more walkers.

"Oh shit. Oh God," He's panicking now and Tara is breathing heavier, freaking out with him.

Every way is blocked by walkers who are now close enough they start tearing into the horse. "Rick!"

Tara feels herself wanting to scream, but she holds it in. Last thing they needed was more walkers running at them. Rick tries to keep his seat and find a way out but the walkers' attack sends the horse into a panic.

"Oh God,"

"Shit!"

Rick loses his own grip on the horse's reins, making him slide back on the horse and pushing Tara off. They slam into the ground, dropping their gear and Rick landing on Tara. She cries out in pain. Most of the walkers are too busy with the horse to notice so Rick grips Tara's arm and kicks away the one walker closest to them.

"Run!" He urges her, forcing her on her feet. They look up and see another crowd of walkers in front of him.

"Shoot,"

"Shit shit shit,"

They run until Rick pushes Tara to crawl under the tank and follows after her, but walkers follow them from all sides and Tara finally screams in horror.

"Oh God. Oh God," Rick pulls out his gun and shoots at the nearest walkers until he has only one bullet left. Tara pulls out her own gun and does the same.

"Rick!" Tara and Rick scramble as close as they can together and as far away from the walkers as they could.

"Tara, I'm sorry. I think this is it!" He puts the gun to his own temple and closes his eyes tight. "Lori, Carl, I'm sorry,"

"Wait!" Tara stops him and suddenly climbs up into the tank through an open hatch, Rick takes Tara's hand and she helps pull him in. She quickly closes it behind them. Rick crawls as far away from the hatch as he can till he's up against the side while Tara sits opposite of him on the other side of the hatch.

They're both panting.

Rick is now sitting beside a dead soldier and a grenade on a shelf.

"Oh… God," Rick shakes his head in revulsion.

Rick reaches for the soldier's gun, a Beretta 92, which rouses the walker. He turns snarling at Rick.

Reacting in fear, Rick shoots the walker in the head. The gunshot echoes, temporarily deafening Rick and Tara. Tara, however, can suddenly feel exhaustion take over and the ringing in her ears makes her fall back unconscious.

"Tara?" He continues to gasp in shock at the ringing in his ears. "Tara, you okay?" He shakes himself out of his daze and sees the top hatch is open. He goes and looks out.

He sees all the walkers hanging around and his bag of guns and his hat on the ground. The ringing fades from his ears. Walkers notice him and start climbing the tank. Rick goes back down, closing the hatch behind him. The walkers can be heard through the tank. Rick checks the gun clip and looks around before crawling over to Tara.

He shakes her a little, but she only moans and rolls to her side. He's relieved to see she's not dead. He cautiously checks the rest of her body to make sure she wasn't bitten before sitting back down and letting her rest.

He had no idea what they were going to do. At this point, there was probably no hope for them.

Then suddenly, he hears a radio cackling.

"Hey, you. Dumb asses. Yeah, you two in the tank. Are you cozy in there?"

Rick stares at the radio, unable to believe it.