Author's Notes: If anyone has read my other two fics, you know they were/are about my OC(s). While I have OC(s) in this fic, my intention is to keep the story more about the characters we love from the show. I also am starting it with an end in mind. This one is set in a AU picking up generally where season 1 left off and does not follow the show. Also, Ed is still alive for now. Like any geek, I've got my zombie survival plan. I thought it might be fun to play with some of the ideas from it while pitting our guys against the Governor.

I decided to break my introductory chapter into two parts. Mainly so I could post the first one and see if there as even any interest for me to continue. So please read and review! Let me know if I should bother with this or not.

Oh, and fear not Daryl fans, we will see much more of him in future chapters. Promise ;)

Italics = flashbacks.

And of course, I do not own the Walking Dead, I am just mercilessly in love with it.

Chapter 1: The Road to Hope (Part 1)

Dale fidgeted and adjusted the settings on the HAM Radio for the hundredth time. Any real hope of connecting with another living being had faded away, just like their dreams of salvation at the Center For Disease Control. It had been weeks since they had narrowly escaped with their lives, and in all that time they had seen no evidence that there was another living soul out there aside from themselves. Still, the old man wasn't ready to give up the fight.

"Why do you even bother with that thing?" Shane asked, swatting away a mosquito with the back of his grubby hand.

Shane's dark hair was slick with sweat. The sun had been beating down on them unforgivingly day after day. There was not a cloud in the sky and the temperature was at a record high. Or at least it would have been a record had anyone still been keeping track. Everyone had had enough of the heat wave and tempers were short.

Dale frowned from under his floppy fishing hat, looking deputy Walsh up and down. His mind wasn't made up about the man yet. There was just something about him that set Dale's nerves on edge.

"There have to be others like us still out there," Dale insisted with calculated reason. "You can't really believe we're the only group of survivors left?"

"Maybe we are. Maybe we're not," Shane shrugged. "What's it matter either way? Right now we've got to focus," he insisted. "On us here. Now. We got to focus on survival."

As far as Shane was concerned, it didn't matter whether there were other survivors out there or not. All that mattered was that Lori, Carl, and himself survived. Although it was complicated since her husband had shown up back at the quarry camp. Rick was alive and well, and Lori blamed Shane for telling her that he was dead. All Shane could do was wait and bide his time, hoping that some day she'd come around.

"Surviving?" Dale parroted back. "What about living? What about hope?"

"Screw hope," Shane fumed. "Man, we ain't got time for this hope and fantasizing bullshit," he vented his frustration. "Maybe instead of playing with your toys you should think about getting out there and looking for food, for water, for fuel like the rest of us."

"Someone needs to sit watch," Dale countered defensively. "Might as well keep an ear out. You never know when something might come through."

Shane shook his head. "Man, when you gonna get it. We haven't heard anything on that thing since the last emergency broadcast loop. It's been at least a month," Shane reminded him. "There isn't going to be any more transmissions. Get it through that thick skull of yours."

Shane turned his back to Dale and started to walk away. A crackling from the radio stopped him in his tracks.

"Hello to anyone else left out there!" A cheery voice called over the radio waves.

Glenn stood up. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed, his eyes as wide as saucers. "Is that for real?"

"It is another beautiful sunny day here on the west coast of BC. Things seem to be slowing down, we haven't seen as many of the infected up here as of late."

A wide grin was spreading across Dale's face as he stared in disbelief at the radio. The timing couldn't have been better. "Would it be wrong to say 'I told you so'?"

Shane was staring too, his jaw hanging open. There was no point in responding to Dale's question. It was all moot.

"Guys! Guys!" Glenn called out excitedly to the rest of the group. His skinny arms were waving wildly above his head. "Dale's got something on the radio. Other survivors!"

Everyone rushed in to listen.

"It's probably just another recording," Shane told them. The irritation in his voice was clearly evident. "Don't go getting your hopes up."

Carol wrung her hands. "It could be real, though couldn't it?"

"What'd the man jus' say," Ed snapped. Carol obediently shut her mouth and stood quietly as her husband chewed and spat on the ground.

"So if you're looking for a relatively safe place to spend your late summer vacation you should consider beautiful British Columbia! Enjoy a nice day on the beach or a leisurely stroll through our deserted streets. Just don't forget to bring your sunscreen and a shotgun...," the voice broke down into laughter and the transmission ended.

"Just some kids goofing around," Shane shrugged it off. Sure as hell seemed more likely than the alternative.

"How are they broadcasting down here all the way from BC?" Glenn asked suspiciously. Meanwhile Rick fiddled with the control, desperately trying to get them back. The small town deputy was having little success.

Dale rubbed his chin trying to recall something he'd read in Popular Science years before. "I think they might be bouncing it off the space station," he said tentatively, "presuming it's still up there."

"I can't see why it wouldn't be," Rick commented slowly. "With everything going on down here it's probably the safest place to be." Behind his words his mind was working a mile a minute trying to process what had just happened.

"Can we do that?" Glenn asked with his eyes glued to Dale. Excitement was causing his pitch to rise. "If we could bounce our signal off the space station too, then we could talk to them, right?"

"I suppose it never hurts to try," Dale said with a nod.

Feet shuffled nervously across the pavement as everyone gathered together at the vehicles. They had been on the road for weeks. What had at first seemed like a good plan was now starting to show holes. It didn't help that there had been no further broadcasts from the community of survivors up in BC for eight days. Doubt and uncertainty was snaking its way into all their hearts.

Shortly after they'd decided to make the cross-continent trip to the western coast of Canada the group had reevaluated their selection of vehicles. To the greatest extent possible they had cut down on what they were taking to save on fuel. Petrol had become a much prized commodity in the new post apocalyptic market. Now north of the border they found it in even shorter supply.

What they were left with stood in front of them now. Dale's Winnebago, while a bit of a gas-guzzler was still an obvious choice. It had facilities, such as a toilet and kitchen, as well as the ability to house and transport multiple people. The station wagon also made the cut. It was better on fuel, and a good family vehicle. Daryl had refused to leave behind his brother's motorcycle, but had compromised and ditched the pickup truck. It could only carry two and no one wanted to ride with the redneck anyhow.

"Do we have everything we need?" Rick asked. His eyes flitted from person to person. There was so little of the initial enthusiasm for the trip left on their faces.

"Better hope so," Shane replied through gritted teeth. "We don't want to get caught in the middle of the Coquihalla and find out we don't have what we need."

There could not have been a truer statement. For the next 115 kilometers, roughly a little over 70 miles if they'd calculated correctly, they would be driving through the remote mountains as they made their way toward the town of Hope. There were no towns, no alternate routes, no nothing until they got there.

Shane had argued vehemently against taking the Coquihalla. He'd argued against the entire trip, to be exact. It was risky. Too risky. The areas they were traveling were remote and without much opportunity to salvage food or fuel. If they found themselves stuck, there was nowhere to retreat to. One shot. That's all they would get.

The lure of another group of survivors was too strong for some. Shane's warnings had fell on deaf ears as the rest of them had fantasized about this community that had formed to their north. There was strength in numbers, and hope in forming ties. They had to try. If there was another group of survivors out there they had to at least try. He had been outvoted, but that didn't mean Shane had to be happy about the decision.

Shane turned to Glenn, rubbing his hand through his messy hair. "Man, I dunno how we ended up so far off track," he said, his voice seething with contempt. Every chance he got Shane was finding something to gripe about.

Glenn looked around helplessly at the accusation. "How was I supposed to know they'd have no roads!" he said defensively.

"You had the map," Shane reminded him, glaring all the while.

"If you could even call that a map," Glenn muttered under his breath.

"Got something you want to say to me?" Shane spat. His voice was dripping with venom.

The young Korean man gulped. "Umm... Uh... Err...," Glenn stammered, becoming flustered. "Well maybe if I'd..." he trailed off at the sight of Shane's dark and menacing eyes.

"Chinaman's got a point," Daryl muttered.

Glenn turned to him eyes wide with surprise. Daryl Dixon was the last person he'd expected to stand up for him.

"Look!" Rick cut in. The authoritativeness of his voice brought silence among the group. "It doesn't matter how we ended up here," he cast a sympathetic and knowing glance at Glenn. "The fact of the matter is we're here now and we have to do the best with it that we can."

A few nods bobbed up and down among the others.

"To loop back the way we came and get back on track is nearly twice as far. We've all heard Shane's arguments against taking to Coquihalla to Hope, but I don't believe it is any less dangerous to go back. We all know what we went through to get here."

The trip to Meritt had been anything but pleasant. It seemed everywhere they stopped they were greeted by throngs of Walkers. Every time they found a little store or a gas station they thought they could loot for supplies they were pushed back. Always there were more Walkers than their little group could handle. Meritt had been the first place where they were actually able to gather some supplies.

"If anyone else doesn't want to do this, you need to speak up now," Rick paused and waited. There were a few quiet murmurs among the group, but no one besides Shane objected to the plan. "Okay, then let's get moving."

The Winnebago, being the biggest, clunkiest vehicle, took the lead. Dale would set the pace on the steep grades as they climbed to 1244 meters, some 4000 plus feet, into the Coquihalla pass through the Canadian Cascades. From a geographical perspective, this would be the most dangerous leg of their journey. They would be traveling through high mountain terrain where the weather could be formidable, and could change with a heart beat.

"Check your fuel," Glenn murmured under his breath from the passenger's seat.

"What was that?" Dale asked, turning towards the young man.

Glenn looked up surprised. "Oh the sign. It read: check your fuel."

"Not like we have the luxury of just stopping in at a gas station anyways."

Glenn gulped. The ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach was shared by all. Either they made it to Hope on what they had, or they all died on that highway. It was one hell of a gamble.

The incline was steady as soon as they were out of Merritt. The Coquihalla highway stretched out in front of them, always reaching upward as they plodded along. The Winnebago struggled with the constant uphill grade.

"What goes up, must come down," Dale said quietly to himself.

"Hmm?" Rick walked to the front, kneeling down between Dale and Glenn's seats.

"Oh, just thinking to myself. Once we reach the top, all this climbing we're doing, we're going to have to go back down. It's going to be hell on the brakes and I can't remember the last time I had them checked," Dale admitted bashfully from under his hat. A tiny hint of red tinged his cheeks.

"Thanks for mentioning that now," Glenn groaned, staring out the window to the pine covered hills.

Rick let out a deep sigh. This was his idea. He'd got them all into this mess. "I'm sure it will be fine. People used to drive this route every day," he said, trying to be reassuring.

"That's right," Dale agreed, however the two of them exchanged a worried glance. This wasn't exactly 'every day'. Things had changed since then.

"Hello. Can anybody hear us?" Dale called persistently over the HAM radio.

Shane stood back and scoffed while Rick and the others waited expectantly. It was a long shot, trying to use the international space station to boost their signal, but it was possible. So far they'd been at it an hour with no success.

"I'm telling you, it ain't gonna work," Shane grumbled, unhappy with how much time was being wasted over a couple of kids playing a prank.

"Anybody? Anybody at all?" Dale asked desperately.

"Hello? Hello!" A voice came back. "Yes we hear you."

"Just fucking perfect," Shane muttered.

Rick hastily took the receiver from Dale. "Hello! My name is Rick. Rick Grimes. Are you the same people who were broadcasting earlier from BC?"

Silence. The group waited with baited breath for a response.

"Indeed we are!" came the cheery voice, finally.

The survivors let out a collective sigh of relief.

"You say you're on the western coast of British Columbia?" Rick had asked.

"That's right."

"We're down in Georgia," he told them.

"Well, I'll be damned," the voice spoke. "Howdy neighbors. How are things down there?"

"I'll be honest," Rick answered. "They're not good."

"Georgia..." the voice mused over the radio waves. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the Center for Disease Control down your way? How are they managing with a cure, any word?"

"It is," Rick said before thinking. "Or rather it was."

There was a long silence. Finally the voice returned, although it was less cheery than before. "It was... What is that supposed to mean?"

Rick sadly relayed the story of what had happened when they had arrived at the CDC.

"I see..."

"Ask him about the Walkers up there," Glenn prodded Rick.

"Maybe there aren't as many as there are down here," Lori said hopefully.

Rick held a finger to his lips to quiet the hushed voices circulating around their makeshift camp at the side of the road. Once everyone had settled he spoke into the radio. "How is the Walker situation up there?"

"The what?"

"Walkers," Rick repeated.

"You mean the dead people walking around? Is that what you call them down in Georgia?"

"Yes. That's what I mean."

"Well, we got them up here too," the voice told them. "From what you tell me, according to this Dr. Jenner guy, there isn't anywhere that didn't get hit."

Lori cast a sharp look at her husband, urging him to hurry up in case they lost the signal.

"Yeah, but how bad is it up there?"

There was a pause before the voice came back. "I guess that depends on how you define bad."

Rick placed the receiver down for a moment and let out a small, frustrated sigh. When he looked up Shane was shaking his head.

"How many of them things are there? How many do you typically encounter?" Rick picked the receiver back up and tried being more specific.

"Oh, not too many anymore," the voice said casually. "Still run into the odd one here and there but The Governor's done a great job getting things cleaned up around here."

"Governor?" Glenn repeated with disbelief.

"Oh my God," Lori mouthed. "Governor, does that mean they have government?"

"Jesus Rick!" Shane shouted. "You can't just take the word of some random guy you hear on the radio," he warned. "Think for a second, don't you think if they still had government up in Canada that Jenner would have known about it and said something?"

"You guys have a Governor?" Rick asked into the radio.

"Well, not exactly," the voice admitted. "He just likes to call himself that, but he takes good care of our little community."

To be continued...

Well! Let me know what you think! Should I continue with this?