Jenna Jones slammed the door to her house shut, using each and every one of the six locks on the side to make sure it stayed closed. Calm down, Jenna, she thought to herself. Everything is okay. They can't get through the door now. Jenna leaned away from the door, trying her best not to shake. A hand came down on her shoulder, making her jump and let out a high pitched squeaked.

"Relax, Jenna," a thick southern voice whispered to her. She did as told, smiling a little at the man behind her. She quickly turned to face him.

"Daryl, you scared me." The man - Daryl - smirked at her, slinging his crossbow into his hands. "Hunting, are we?" Daryl simply nodded before stalking up to the second floor of the Georgian home they built, only three years ago. Who knew it would now be their safe haven - the place that they were nearly forced to stay every second of the day? But then again, who knew there would be hundreds of the undead walking about the streets, woods, fields and praries? Certainly not Jenna and Daryl.

They stopped in the upstairs corridor before opening up a latch in the ceiling that would lead to the attic. After a short decent to the attic, the two shut the trap door before making their way to the large circular window in the far wall. They looked out the window and Jenna stared in horror as a man dressed in a Union outfit ran around, shooting the undead in every place except for where they needed to be shot - one bullet to the brain would make them drop. Jenna and Daryl knew this. Most the people still in Georgia knew this. But, as Jenna had heard from family that was traveling up north, those things had yet to make their debut in the north. But it wouldn't be long, the southerners knew.

"Daryl," Jenna whispered. Her eyes were fixed on the man who had tripped and fallen over outside, the walkers now gripping his warm flesh, ready to feast. Daryl simply grunted before loading a bolt in his crossbow and aiming his crossbow at the poor man. They did their best to ignore the screams of their fellow human as he was devoured alive by what was once beloved people that nearly everyone in their little town knew (Jenna was fairly certain, in fact, that the female walker tearing at the man's stomach was Mrs. Creevey, an old widow who lived about half a mile away). Daryl pulled his crossbow to eye level and - as if pulling it up was just for show - shot, seemingly without aiming. The bolt shot through the air, speeding towards the poor man who screamed for his life. The bolt shot him through the eyes, and Jenna whispered a small prayer for the man as his body was devoured.

Jenna grabbed her own crossbow from a table set up in the middle of the room and grabbed several bolts to reload. Checking her weapon, she made her way back to Daryl, who was already shooting a bolt at every thing that should have stayed dead. Jenna stood beside him, pulled her weapon up and aimed for Mrs. Creevey. The image of that kind old widow popped into her head, but Jenna quickly shook it away. This was not the kind old lady that would ask her about her day and bring her fresh pies. No, this was a walker. Jenna squeezed the trigger, letting the bolt fly. It sunk in between Mrs. Creevey's eyes, killing her on impact.

150 YEARS LATER

Jenna Reedus walked around the corner of her old Georgian home. She could hear the sounds of gunshot in the distance, making her scurry onto the portch and through the door. She knew it was just hunters out in the woods (probably Mr. Maxwell and his boy). She locked the first, third and sixth locks, in case someone should try to break in (that way, should someone attempt to pick the locks to break in, they'd lock three locks either way). Jenna quietly walked to the attic. It was the safest place in the whole house. And, as everyone in her family knew, it was the safest place to hide from walkers. Had been since the Civil War. At least, that's what the journals said. She had remembered quite clearly how she had discovered the journals...

Jenna had always heard two things while growing up. One - Jenna Jones (the original Jenna in their family) was an amazing woman, who did an amazing thing back in the Civil War. And two - every few years, someone in the family was named Jenna in memory of this amazing ancestor, but none of the newer generation knew what she had done. But Jenna Reedus was determind to find the truth about Jenna Jones. And it came on a day that Jenna got a school asignment that she would learn the truth of her most famous incestor (even though her name had never once been marked in the history books).

Jenna had went home as per usual and asked her mother what she knew about the Civil War. She had to write a paper on the subject, and Jenna was bent on writing in her 'amazing' ancestor - how amazing could she be, really? And it was that answer that Jenna intended to find. Her mother had simply stated, "Check the old boxes in the attic. What was it... 'Family Journals' should have what you're looking for." And so Jenna did just that. Jenna had smiled widely at the treasure she found. The journal of the first Jenna - the journal that would tell her everything.

Jenna sat alone in the attic, ignoring the dusty old crossbows that sat on the table in the middle, tens of bolts on both the table and the box under it. (Jenna had noticed the first time she came in that the bolts on the table went around the two cross bows to form a heart, though she was unsure as to why. And still, she would not move the bolts or crossbows, which were covered in dust.) Jenna sat and read the journal, like she had done every day since her mom had told her about it. This particular one - the one that was a faded blue, with faded black ink that read 'JENNA JONES - READ AND DIE' - was her favorite. It took place during the civil war. And it was amazing. Just like Jenna Jones.

Dear Journal,

You would not believe what happened! The Unions and Confederates were fighting by our house today (again!) and they actually did something great. They worked together to kill walkers. The undead fell by their hands, uniting them for those briefest of moments. It shows that we are still human. No matter what. I wish they could see that. We've let people stay here - both sides, really - and given them food, water, and a place to sleep and wash. And they repay us by slaughtering people in our front yard. How lovely. But they worked together... To save each other, even if it was just for a moment. You could see it in their eyes - they knew they were just humans, fighting for what was better for humanity. And even now, I believe I have seen the turns of this war. We are housing people less and less as the days pass. But the walkers... They are everywhere. Daryl and I kill as many as we can. Especially when we notice that they are men who fought in the war. We feel it is a service to them. They save us from death, we save them from being undead. But I've been working. Working hard. I believe I have done something that could change fate. I have found a cure. These walkers that are going around? I know how to stop it. I've managed to send word to the government, thanks to a messanger that had stayed by our house. We got news just a week later. We've sent the antidote, but I managed to keep some of it. They've replicated it. And now, everyone is saved. I hope. I do not trust this government. They could not even prevent a war amongst their people! I don't care if it was true that the slaves were becoming walkers. That is no need to feud. Work together, honestly. I don't care if it is human to argue - it is also human to protect. Protect each other, and argue only against what is wrong.

- Jenna Jones

Jenna had found that one entry more amazing than any others. And it was then that she realized what had happened (despite reading it many times as a child, she never truly let it sink in until that day... And she was shocked at her own late discovery). She remembered what one of her teachers had said, "Out of 620,000 deaths, over 400,000 were from diseases." So... These 'diseases' had been, in reality, walkers. The walking dead. It was real. It had to have been. Her ancestor sent the cure to the government. They cured who they could and killed the rest. The bodies were burned or buried in massive piles, she was sure. And lastly, they tried to hide it from the rest of the world. It was mainly in the south. But by the end of the war - what with all the death - people had died. And they had came back to life. And, as fate would have it, her ancestor had saved all of them lives... And never been given credit where credit was due.

Jenna had left the house that night and walked two miles to the old church that sat abandoned. Not much went on their on a Tuesday night. But she did not attend for what was inside, but rather what was buried in the back. She found the poorly kept gravestone engraved 'JENNA JONES, A WOMAN UNLIKE ANY OTHER' and sat down. Right next to her grave was another, sporting a name she remembered from the journal. Daryl Dixon. She read the stone aloud.

"Daryl Dixon - Perhaps the only man in the world who could put up with Jenna Jones, his beloved wife. Never seen without a crossbow in hand." Jenna's eyes widened, wondering if the crossbows on the table had been his. But why two...?

Jenna leaned forward and wiped some dirt off of Jenna's grave stone and smiled. There had been another engraving under her name. She quickly read it, too:

Crossbow in hand,

She made a good friend.

She found the cure,

And made the world pure.

Rest in peace, child of God,

As we mourn and sob.

You're with your God and love,

So fly free, graceful as the clumbsiest dove.

Tears filled the eyes of Jenna Reedus as she hugged the tomb stone. The two crossbows had been done in name of Jenna Jones and Daryl Dixon - to show a love unlike others. The stone stated that she found the cure - she had saved the world. She was mourned - people had loved her. And, as she read the last two lines again, Jenna smiled a watery smile.

"Good-bye, Jenna Jones. You were the braviest woman I never knew."