"I spy with my little eye something that is green!"

"A tree"

"Okay, I spy with my little eye something that's brown!"

"Tree"

"Hmmm, I spy with m-"

"It's probably a tree." A small gasp sounded from the little boy sitting on my shoulders.

"Are you a mind reader?" The excitement was very clear in his voice. I sigh.

"No Rocket, we're in the woods. There's nothing but trees to spy with your eyes." I explain.

"Oh!" Came his reply.

Silence follows afterwards, the only sound being the crunching of my footsteps and the rustling of the map. It's at least mid-afternoon judging from the blaring sun and the unfamiliar Georgian heat. Being here for only two months the weather was still something that I'm finding hard to adjust too, among other things.

This has been our lives for the past seven months. Moving from town to town trying to find shelter or scavenge for food. Attempting to avoid dangerous people. It's an endless cycle. The feeling of exhaustion and terror has become something that is as common as breathing for me. It's always present and looming.

I should probably introduce myself, my name is Arcadia Vance and the little boy on my shoulders who is currently humming to himself is my little brother, Rocket Vance. We've been on our own ever since the camp we were at got attacked.

That's the other thing whether you're aware or not there's a virus that causes people to burn out from its symptoms and come back as the undead. The only thing on their dead agenda seems to be eating anyone who is still alive. And with this hellish nightmare entering into its second year, there isn't that many living humans roaming about. Those who are left are...survivors. That should mean something good but over the years that word has become haunted. Because the ones who were alive have to remember what they've done to stay that way and not all of it is pretty. I'm no exception. The guilt starts to brew in my stomach as the dark memories try push their way into my head.

The familiar sting of the deep cut on my left forearm brings me back, reminding me it's still there. Three days ago I had been clearing out a department store while Rocket was at our former camp (a single storied house), the store was huge. My only task was to look for food and get out. But unfortunately I had a run in with another survivor. I hadn't even seen the man but he had seen me. He was more frightened of me then I was of him, out of fear his knife came out and sliced my arm. The man ran off right after that.

I had wrapped the cut as well as I could, but without any disinfectants the risk of it getting an infection was high. Over the few days the thing has become angry looking with red streaks of veins coming out of it. My arm would occasionally throb but today its worse and since I woke up I can feel my skin become warmer than it should be.

The dizzy feeling comes back bringing along the ache of my arm. I take a deep breath and then release it, trying to focus on other things like the map right in front of me. We've been walking for at least four hours, since first light. Rocket only lasted for about three of them before he practically climbed my leg. We left behind our crappy makeshift camp in some small abandoned coffee shop. The shop had been wiped clean so I gave the last can of beans to Rocket, telling him that I'd find something to eat later. I didn't. Mixing starvation with an infected cut isn't great but I have been through worse. And there's no way in hell I'm letting a little infection slow me down.

Finally I force my vision to focus on the map that I had picked up in some tourist shop when we first arrived. My eyes scan over it attempting to spot something that could be helpful, I see a department store only about two miles away. The place could have food and hopefully a still intact pharmacy.

"Hey bud, do you want to man the map?" Rocket replies with an excited yes, I lift the map above my head and he grabs it resting it on my cranium. I've been trying to teach him how to read a map. He's gotten better over the few weeks. Except for the time a week ago when he had gotten us hopelessly lost but it worked out because we had stumbled upon an old restaurant that still had some food in it. (four cans of beans and some very stale gram crackers to be exact)

I keep walking, Rocket giving me occasion directions. The peaceful silence returns along with a few birds chirping. Its rare moments like this when things are tranquil that I allow my mind to wander. To pretend just for a second that the world hasn't gone to hell and everything is fine. That we're just on a camping trip and at any moment we'd come back to our camp site. Where everyone we love would be waiting for us with open arms.

"Hey Arcade?" his little voice asks breaking my train of thoughts.

"What is it, little man?"

"Do you think they're happy up there?" I crash back to reality hard.

"Of course they're happy Rock." I pat his leg as I hear a little huff come from him.

"Even without us." he mumbles. I try to ignore the misery. No one is waiting for us because we're alone and it's been that way for a long time. Our parents were murdered after the Turn. Murdered by the people who attacked our camp, the same people we've been on the run from. It still troubles Rocket, everything that happened. He tends to wonder how they are up in heaven.

"They're happy because they can watch over us, I'm sure they miss us as much as we miss them. But they're happy most of all because we're alive and we have each other. They're happy because we're still here."

He stays silent as we keep moving, coming to a clearing from the trees and onto a long road. A few more moments pass before I hear soft sniffling coming from above me. I abruptly stop reaching up to remove the small boy from my shoulders. The map falls to the ground as I cradle him to my chest and he cries. Strangled sobs escape his lips as he holds onto me for dear life. I allow him to cry, gently stroking his brown hair until he finally calms down. Slowly I put him down, I kneel down as well so we're at eye level. He wipes his eyes, little hiccups coming from his mouth.

"Hey" I softly say and his light brown eyes come up to meet my dark ones.

"It's okay, we'll see them again someday and they will be so excited and so proud of us. But for now we have to keep going because it's what they would want. You still got me Rock. I won't let anything happen to you, I won't ever let them take us back. I'm always going to be here for you no matter what happens." I smile at him as I wipe the away the remainder of tears on his cheeks.

"You promise?" he asks, his voice is so small and he looks at me with such hope that my chest hurts. I nod my head. "I promise."

A smile cracks across his face, removing any sort of sadness, my smile widens as I stand back up. I smell them before I hear them. You'd think being around that smell for two years that I would become numb to it. But no the smell of decaying flesh is something I'll never get used to.

Two of them stumble out of the woods across the road from us, two more following after them. The growls are low as they blindly trip over themselves. But of course they spot us a little ways up the road and their groans get louder in the presence of fresh meat.

I act quickly picking Rocket up and rushing over to the nearest tree. There's a branch low enough for him to reach but is high enough away from any lurking bitters. I hoist him up and he grabs onto the branch and lift's himself up by hooking his right leg around it then swinging the rest of his body up so his back rest against the trunk. I take my backpack off and hand it to him, no words need to be exchanged because of the countless times that we've done this. But he still gives me that worried look and I give him a reassuring smile before I head back to the road.

The bitters have made it halfway to where we were, reaching out to try to grab onto their next meal. I unclip the holster on my right thigh and take out the 1911 Colt, checking the magazine. Only three bullets, I let out an annoyed huff, putting it back deciding to save them as a last resort. I reach behind me and unsheathe the hunting knife that I keep strapped to my belt.

The first one is a women, or what used to be a women. Her stringy blonde hair has become patchy, making part of her skull visible. The once white night gown is drenched in blood and grim. She nears me, snapping her rotting teeth. I extend my left arm grabbing onto her disgusting hair and sink the knife into her eye. She goes limp instantly and I pull out the weapon with a gross squelch sound. I let go and her body drops to the floor.

After her is a large man whose stomach had been cut open with his now black looking guts spilling out almost dragging on the ground. I lift my leg and kick at his left shin. The sickening snap follows and he topples foreword. Putting my right foot on his hand I plunge the knife into the back of his head and his growls die. The two others follow after him and I take them out quickly.

I lean over with my hands on my knees, taking a second to catch my breath and stop the black spots that are beginning to invade my vision. When I'm sure that I'm not going to pass out I bend down retrieving my knife out of the last bitters skull. Turning around I start back to where Rocket is hiding, wiping the dark blood onto my already dirty jeans. Just as I'm about to call out to him I hear a loud rumbling.

I turn around spotting a large grey truck and what looks to be a motorcycle making its way down the road right to me. I put my knife back and take out my gun instead.

"Stay where you are." I say loud enough for Rocket to hear. The vehicles come to a halt about a few yards in front of me.

I raise my gun and the man on the motorcycle acts quickly, in one graceful movement he unmounts from his ride and takes off the crossbow that was strapped to his back pointing it at me. I glare at him and his green eyes glare right back at me. Before I can tell him to put his weapon the hell down, the doors to the truck open and out steps two people. A woman who looks to be only in her 20's with short brown hair and emerald green eyes and along with a man who seems to be around her age, sprouting hair as black as mine and dark eyes.

I look at them then back at the crossbow guy, this isn't good. If they start something I'm fucked.

You know your, shoot first ask questions later, strategy has never worked for us in the past. Maybe aiming a gun at strangers isn't the best way to introduce yourself.

I frown at the voice, my conscience over the years had turned into an unfriendly one.

And whose fault is that?

I ignore it like usual but during my internal turmoil I didn't even notice the man and women had taken a few steps towards me making the grip on my gun tighten and causing them to stop.

"It's alright," the women say's cautiously, "we're not gonna hurt you." her southern accent is very noticeable. I glower at her tone, it's like she's talking to a feral animal.

"You know I would believe that if Rambo over there didn't have that pointed at my head." my eyes slide back over to the man.

"Best lower your gun then." his voice is gruff and even more southern than the woman's.

"Best lower your fucking weapon before I shoot it out of your hands." I hiss back my glare hardening causing his too as well. I'm ready to start shooting if I have to when suddenly the other man steps in.

"Daryl put it down, she's just a kid." The man's heating gaze shifts to the dark haired one and it's like they're having a conversation with their eyes because after a few moments 'Daryl' finally lowers his crossbow.

This is the part where you put yours down too. You don't have enough bullets Vance and you're not in shape to fight either. Don't be stupid and put it away before you do something you regret.

Begrudgingly I holster my weapon, if these people didn't want to fight then what did they want from me. I wipe a bead of sweat off my forehead, I feel hot. The ache in my arm has come back and all I want to do is scratch at the wound. The other man sighs turning back to me a small smile on his face.

"Hey my name is Glenn and this Maggie," he says gesturing to the women. "What's your name?" I stare at him for a few moments trying to figure him out.

He didn't look like he could be dangerous or that he could be working for him but then again looks are deceiving. However his smile was genuine and nothing about him screamed murder. But overall these people didn't seem as though they were going to kidnap us and feed us to bitters, well maybe the Daryl guy but then again he was just being careful. However I still wasn't going to let my guard down, first sign of something not being okay and it's done. I look Glenn in the eye as I straighten out my stance.

"Arcadia" I reply curtly. He nods then looks down at the pile of dead bitters.

"Is it just you out here?" Glenn asks, I hesitate but nod my head.

"You're lyin." Hisses Daryl, bringing his crossbow back up. I snap my gaze to him, glaring again. Before I can defend myself I hear a yell.

"No!" then suddenly there's a little body in front of me. Rocket stands there with his arms stretched out trying to shield me. The others startle, staring at him and Daryl lowers his crossbow.

"Please don't hurt her!" He begs. I grab his arm and throw him behind me.

"I told you stay put." I scold looking over my shoulder at him. He looks up at me with big brown watering eyes.

"But they were gonna hurt you." He explains grabbing onto my right leg. I turn back to the strangers, none of them have made a move yet.

"Look if you're going to hurt anyone let it be me. Just let him go." I say surrendering because I'm beginning to see there's no way out of this without Rocket getting hurt and there was no way in hell that I would let that happen.

"Woah we're not hurting anyone." Glenn clarifies putting his hands out. "We have a camp, it has food, shelter and protection. You two can come back with us." I hold his gaze for a few moments.

"How many do you got at this camp of yours?" I inquire.

"About 40." My eyes widen a bit, 40 survivors!? With that many people the place must be strong and have a system to keep it going. It must have walls that keeps it safe. For a second the flicker of hope ignites in my chest. Maybe it could be different this time, maybe we could actually stay there. Maybe…

You think walls will keep you safe? You do know that no matter what they'll find you. They will slaughter all and any people who shelter you. And that's 40 people whose blood will be on your hands. Again it'll be your fault. Is that really what you want?

I swallow the lump in my throat as the hope dies out, I shake my head. Declining the offer like so many times before.

"No, we're doing fine on our own." A slight disappoint comes across Glenn and Maggie's face. Knowing that they're no longer a threat, I turn around and take the backpack off Rockets shoulder and swing it over mine. Then I grab his hand and start down the road. Not looking back because I know if I do I'll take the offer. I spot the map a few feet away and lean down to pick it up but that very moment the black spots comes back and this time there's no escaping it.

I don't know I'm on the ground until I'm staring at the blue sky. My arm aches so badly all I want to do is tear it off. Someone's shouting and my skin feels like it's on fire. The black dots begin to dance in my vision making the blue sky dimmer and dimmer until it looks like the night sky.

Hello there! Yes this story is still alive and yes so am I. As of late I have decided to rewrite it. I know now exactly how I want this story to go and I've actually planned it out instead of just going in blind.

So I have written the first few chapters which I will publish weekly and hopefully stick to it. But I do want to finish this story because I have so many great ideas that I want to share with you all. Plus you guys, that season premiere messed me up. Everything went south so fast!

But please stick around this story will get better I promise. See you guys next week!