–Day Fifty-Nine–

Rick was the first of them to fall. After the attack on the prison, the mega herd, and when they ran out of gas, he couldn't go on, Daryl tried his best, but in the end, it was his own choice. He died protecting them. They couldn't fit everyone into the car, and Rick knew he had to protect his family. Everyone cried.

–Two Weeks Later–

Tyreese got real sick. It wasn't the swine flu, it was something else. It happened so quick, Sasha barely had time to the pull the trigger. It brought more walkers down on them, and they had to book. It was horrible. They couldn't even say goodbye, not like with Rick. The tears were hard to stop, especially for Sasha, who was comforted by Beth and Michonne. How do you cope when the shit hits the fan and the only person you have left is gone?

Carl looked over at Lizzie, and Lizzie swallowed hard, turning away as to not let him see her cry.

–One Week Later–

They found their bodies by the road, half chewed on. No one heard a thing, Maggie got sick, and Beth fell to her knees, crying. There was so much blood. Carol comforted Maggie, and Daryl just got so pissed. He was so angry with everything. Lizzie kept Mika close to her, Carl was close behind, and they were all numbed at the sight of Hershel and Glenn. They were fending off walkers from the car by the look of it. They didn't even use their guns, so no one knew.

By the decomposition, Hershel went down first then Glenn. He was probably trying to protect them. It made Maggie cry even harder, rocking herself as she kept from watching Daryl make sure they didn't come back, and Carl just heaved a long breath before the hot tears rolled down his cheeks. These were the men that saved him and his father. Without them, they would probably be dead. How can this be happening?

–One Month Later–

Michonne found the body. She had taken her own life. She couldn't bear it anymore. How could she? After watching walkers tear apart Mika, Michonne was surprised she'd held on this long. It was so hard for her, after the others, she just shut down. You can only keep going for so long. She must have met her last limit.

Daryl waited in the car with Beth, Carl and Lizzie held one of Judith's hands in theirs, and Carol told them to stay back. She and Michonne gently covered the body. She needed her brother. Once he was gone, the days were numbers. Poor Sasha. She was so strong...but this... No one had expected this. If anyone were to kill his or herself, they all suspected it would be Beth. She'd tried before... God, this was horrible.

–Two Months Later–

They were safe. They had food, water, and a place to stay. Carol and Beth took care of the girls, Carl and Daryl kept watch constantly, Michonne and Maggie managed the food. Everything was going well, and that's when you know the bottom's going to fall out. It always did. It was expected, but it wasn't. It was like when someone in the hospital dies from a terminal illness. You expect it, but it's such a surprise. That's how this was. They never should've risked it. It was so stupid. So stupid.

Maggie and Beth were curled up together on the bed when it happened. Daryl had gone hunting for some meat, but they were so hungry, they found their own food. It was a mistake; no one would take them, not matter how hungry they were. Beth couldn't stop herself. She ate every single one of the mushrooms Maggie had found. She didn't know what they would do, but she didn't live along enough to find out. She turned in her sleep and attacked Maggie. Defenseless and unsuspecting it, Maggie was bitten. It been a bit lower... But it wasn't. Of course it wasn't.

She was ready though. She said her goodbyes, Michonne was the one to do it, and they were upset, Carl mourned the loss of his first crush and a sister by fate, not blood. Lizzie just stared at the bodies until Carol turned her and led them out of the room. They packed up and left. They decided to try for the coast, like Michonne had suggested years ago. There had to be something.

–Eight Months Later–

Carol, Daryl, Michonne, Lizzie, Carl and Judith found no boats or anything to get them across to where they needed to be. They turned back and thought of returning to Hershel's farm, to see if maybe the walkers had cleared out. It was familiar and the house was secure. It wasn't a good idea, so hell, it might work.

The farm wasn't overrun anymore, so they stayed there. Carl and Michonne were on watch, Lizzie and Judith slept on the couch beside them as Carol and Daryl roamed the house. They were talking about what to do, where to go, Carl assumed. Michonne wouldn't talk about it. She kept herself guarded most days. She was the perfect solider. Carl wanted to be like her, so he studied her expressions, her body language—everything. He wanted to be strong too. He didn't want to die or let this world beat him. He couldn't. He owed it to his mother and his father. Shit, he owed it everyone who had died.

Daryl and Carol rejoined them, Michonne glanced at them, and Carl noticed an exchange of glances, but he didn't know what it was. Were they doing something? Searching the house? Making out? He didn't know. [Just like Wayne, the talk never happened.]

They all sat together in silence, Lizzie stared at the back of the couch, Judith cuddle closer to Lizzie, and they all let out a deep, soundlessly sight of sorrow and they moved on.

–One Year Later–

They were caught in the thick of it, Daryl and Michonne tended to the walkers, Carol lifted Judith into the truck as Carl hotwired the truck. Lizzie shot walkers from the back, Carol dealt with the ones that got close to the kids, and Daryl saw a way through. He took it, grabbing Michonne by her cape. He climbed into the back, hauling Michonne in as Carl sped off.

They got halfway to Macon before the car ran out of gas, and they had a repeat of Georgia—the streets were full of walkers. They had to run. Daryl grabbed Judy, and he shouted to Carl. He grabbed Lizzie's sleeve, and she grasped his hand, running after to keep up to them. Carol stopped and turned; Daryl turned his head and saw why she had stopped.

Michonne drew her sword, and she looked at the walkers that came at her. She tugged up her hood and reached into her pocket, pulling out a grenade. She didn't say anything, but Carol didn't like it. She started to grab Michonne but Daryl grabbed her first. He shook his head, and as much as he wanted to haul her ass down this road, she had made her choice. They caught up with Lizzie and Carl as Michonne stepped toward them and hacked away at them, tugging off the clip.

–Four Months–

Carl, Lizzie, Judith, Carol, and Daryl found out about a camp that was a good 124 miles away. It was safe, and it had food and shelter. The only problem was...they had a plus one on the way. Daryl and Carl protected the women from bandits and the walkers, and they made a straight shot to the fort. They had supplies now, so they would be fine. They would make it. Carol wasn't due for a good two months, and they could make it. They had to.

–One And A Half Months Later–

The baby came early—surprise, surprise. Lizzie had helped to deliver their little girl, Carl had been reading while they were on the road, and they used ferns to stop the bleeding. They made the last mile.

–Thirteen Years Later–

Carol and Daryl died peacefully in their sleep the night before the fort fell, Lizzie, Carl, Judith and Sara left as the only survivors. He took them out into the country, far, far away with the few supplies they had. They found a house, burned the bodies inside, and they made a fence of wood, metal, and cars. They planted crops and raised a some cows and chickens and fish.

Carl and Lizzie had two little boys—Michael and Daryl Grimes—before they died five years later of exposure.

–Nineteen Years Later—

Sara and Daryl buried the body of Michael Grimes who died in his sleep, chocked to death on his own saliva. Just as they were heading inside, a helicopter flew overhead, and they were taken to the last sanctuary, where they lived full lives and married two different people and had two kids each. The world was slowly, but surely recovering.