Chapter One

Heather methodically checked a full perimeter of the small lake she'd found before putting down her gear ready to clean herself. She'd seen nothing except a couple of squirrels scurrying out of her sightline. Taking off her now getting worryingly light backpack she stretched herself out for what felt like the first time in days. Surviving on your own wasn't easy, she was learning.

Taking the knife from her makeshift sheaf she placed it carefully on the top of her backpack, removing the bow from where it now felt so natural on her back she tucked it through the straps of the backpack as well . Still feeling like she was too out in the open Heather paused before she started to remove her filthy clothing. If anyone was watching her she'd be none the wiser, she'd chosen this place after all because it felt secluded. After scouting her sightline she decided against the removal of her clothing, realising they could do with a wash as well.

Sitting down to remove her boots, she contemplated her chances of escape if one of the...undead were to invade her while she washed. Finally tugging the last lace from its eyelet she decided it was worth the risk. Grabbing the knife out of the duct tape sheaf she had made she headed to the water excited about her first wash since everything had turned.

Putting a toe slowly in the water to test it Heather realised that the water was pleasingly warm, it would have to be in this weather. More quickly now she pushed further into the lake, covering herself in the murky water felt amazing. Taking a quick look around first, she submerged her head and undid the messy braid her hair was currently in. This could be the best chance she could have for a while to get as clean as possible. Running her fingers through her long blonde hair she thought about cutting it all off. It sure would be easier but Heather didn't think she had it in her to do it. She scoffed at herself. Just two days ago she'd stabbed three of the 'formally alive' (one of the less harsh terms she'd come across) in the heads and she couldn't even face a little hair cut. One thing she would have to do was find some more clothing, food and water...her small supply had dwindled quickly. She removed her flannel shirt and scrubbed it as best she could to get the dirt out. Admiring her work she quickly worked on the rest of her clothing ensuring she got them and herself as clean as possible before leaving the lake dressed just in her now filthy underwear. She hung the articles of clothing on a nearby branch knowing that the sunshine would have them dry in no time.

Carefully laying the knife back on her pack she tugged on the only spare t-shirt she had left. Heather started to check the supplies she had, her outlook getting worse and worse while she did so. From how quickly she'd be eating and drinking what she had was only going to last her a few more days, a week if she really cut back. She thought back to when she had fled camp and scolded herself for not grabbing more. Sitting down in the grass Heather carefully re-packed all her belongings, knowing how crucial it was to have full access to the more necessary things in her pack. Relaxing only slightly she checked the cut on her leg, she got it when fleeing through the woods from a group of about five undead she was sure she couldn't tackle alone.

The cut wasn't deep, Heather sighed as she reached into the front zipper of her backpack and pulled out some antiseptic cream, this had turned out to be a god send and one of her most used items in the last

few months. Smearing it onto the cut she felt the sting as it got to work. Putting the cream carefully back into its place she stretched out on the bank waiting for her clothes to properly dry before she put them back on.

An hour had passed and Heather could feel herself being dragged into a heady sleep, knowing that could possibly be the worse decision she could make Heather pulled herself to a standing position and made her way over to her now dry clothes. Pulling on her not clean but certainly better than before jeans she heard a snap of twigs to her right. Heather carefully and quietly turned to inspect the location her brain said the noise had come from. Seeing nothing she grabbed the rest of her clothes and made her way over to the pack, chiding herself for leaving it and all of its contents there. Heather pulled on her boots not bothering to tie them all the way to the top but doing a rough but tight knot around her ankles so they wouldn't fall off. Another noise cracked through the silence as she was sliding her bow on to her back read for flight or fight depending on what she was about to face.

What she was about to face made itself clear as a man stumbled over the edge of the bank, Heather wasn't sure at first if the man she was seeing was alive or...well dead walking. As quietly as possible she made her way to the edge of the woods to try and hide herself. The man in question stumbled towards the waters edge and from her distance she saw him plummet to the ground into the water. This was odd behavior for a zombie Heather thought, they didn't seem to need much in the way of hydration, opting for human flesh instead.

Keeping her distance from what Heather now assumed was a human, she knew she couldn't be too careful. The man had started to do much the same as heather, cleaning himself in the water. On closer inspection Heather realised he was missing on of his hands, she winced at the thought of how the injury had come about. Deciding she was lucky he hadn't spotted her Heather turned on her heel, ready to make a quick get away from the area. Only make the same mistake the now soaking wet man had done. The crunch of branches underneath her boots vibrated around the lake and the mans head shot up. He wasn't as cautious as Heather, making his way right over to where he knew the sound had come from, he obviously had better hearing to as he was making his way to her location with speed.

Grabbing her knife from its sheaf she made a quick judgment of her chances, they weren't great. She could see he had spotted her and was making his way right towards her, shouting something incomprehensible as he did. Holding her knife in front of her she backed away from the now approaching man as he made his way up the bank towards her, leaving a damp trail as he did.

"Now now Sugar, we don't need t' pull weapons on 'ch other do we?" His accent licked at southern. He wasn't too much taller than Heather, she put him in his late forties, early fifties. He smiled at her, making himself look even more dangerous. She glanced down at the stump where his hand used to be, seeing it wasn't that old of an injury she winced, which his faced clearly registered.

"Hurt real bad...wouldn't want t' see the other guy though" his eyes roamed her body, taking in everything he could. From her hastily done doc martins to the bow on her back. He could tell just from the way she stood she had no real idea how to use it and that it was a new addition to her attire. "Look

Sugar, I ain't here t' make friends, now you be a nice lil' lady and give me whatcha got in your pack and we can leave it at 'at...how's that sound?"

Despite herself Heather laughed, she hadn't expected to be robbed, especially for what meager supplies she had left.

"You can't be serious?" she laughed "I hardly have enough for me to survive for the rest of the week, I'm not about to give it up and I doubt it would really be worth your time" Her confidence was feigned and she was sure he'd hear it in her voice. The way it wavered as she tried to look him in the eye. His face had lit up the moment she started talking.

"Well how's 'bout that...you long way from home ain'tcha?" Her accent had tipped him off, "Well England I'm Merle Dixon and why don't you let me decide what's worth my time eh?" Heather glared at him, he was toying with the knife in his waist band with his only hand. This man looked dangerous and the way he looked at Heather made her feel like prey.

Knowing he wasn't about to get a response from her he continued "What's your name huh? You out here all on your own?"

Still no response he tried again "Look I ain't about to try 'n get all pally witcha...I just thought you'd have a little more sense than to try and fight wit me...unless you like it rough"

Heather couldn't believe her ears, he was actually coming on to her, after he'd clearly tried to take her last remaining supplies. As far as Heather could see the man in front of her had nothing, no pack, the only weapon she could see was the knife in his waist band, though she was sure he couldn't survive with just that.

"I think I'm in the better position here actually," she was sure his smirk was down to the fact they both knew she was lying "Why don't you go back to your nice relaxing bath?"

He chuckled, Heather was even more terrified than she was letting on.

"You any good wit the bow?" He knew she wasn't just wanted to get her to talk.

"I'm pretty sure I could hit you from here." This elicited another laugh from the man.

"Hell sugar I could hit me from here," he said raising his stump for emphasis. Despite herself, Heather laughed. The man took this as a cue to carry on.

"Now lets say we both let go o' the knives a talk 'bout this nicely"

"Nothing to talk about, I'm not giving up my food."

"How 'bout you share a bit wit old Merle?"

"Not enough to share, how've you survived this long without any food anyway?"

"I ain't 'bout t' give you survival tips...don' even know your name Sugar"

"Heather," she blurted out "Its Heather not Sugar."

"Well...Heather" Her name wrapped around his mouth like poison, she was sure she'd just made a fatal mistake. "As I said I'm Merle, nice ta' meetcha," His eyes roamed her body again "How's a pretty thing like you survived so long anyways? 'Specially seeing as you ain't in your natural habitat."

"I'm not about to give survival tips" she threw back in his face making him smirk.

"I reckon we'd make a good team me 'n you English" he smiled "I like 'em fiesty. I've got food, plenty, I just thought you'd have summit better t' offer."

Internally Heather groaned, this was not something she wanted to get involved with but the idea of food made her salivate. The camp had meager offerings, trail mix and water was what she'd survived on.

"You haven't got a pack...where's your food?" The question hung between them as Merle turned and chuckled, he'd obviously discounted her completely as a threat not even bothering to look behind him as she lowered her knife in disbelief. She watched him as he went back to washing himself nonchalantly in the lake.

"C'mon English I'll show ya." He exited the lake with much more grace than he'd entered it, obviously reinvigorated by their encounter.

Heather balked, no idea of what to do. He was giving her a free ticket out of there. She knew she should take it and run. But surviving, if you could call it that so far on her own had been almost impossible. She'd been close to giving up and if he was walking away from her without thought, was he really that dangerous. She once again scolded herself, she shouldn't be so trusting, her past encounters when at camp had just made it so easy to like the people around her. Heather was about to turn in the other direction, ready to part ways when he called over his shoulder.

"So you comin' or what English, got some coffee brewin' in 'ta van."

That was all she needed to hear, her body responded so positively to the idea of a creature comfort she had long though lost that she almost ran towards the man around the lake while he casually strolled up the bank. Coming up towards him she slowed down, ensuring to keep her eyes on his back at all times. They neared the crest of the hill and Heather saw a white van parked haphazardly quite close, she marveled that she hadn't heard it when she was relaxing next to the lake, once again surprised at her own stupidity.

"Can you drive that thing one handed?" Heather asked sarcastically.

"You'd be surprised what I can do with one hand." He raised his eyebrows almost seductively and Heather had to hold back a choke, she was completely taken aback by his confidence.

"So...how you been survin' so long on your own so far from home?"

"I was at a camp, a summer camp. I came over from England for it as a sort of break from work. They were teaching kiddy survival I guess...archery, knot tying, how to build a fire. I thought it was all quite sweet until our camp got invaded. A few of us managed to get away...I'm the only one left." Heather hadn't realised how much she missed human contact, even just his small question had opened a flood gate of information she wanted to get off her chest. "I wish I had listened more I can hardly tie my laces properly."

He looked down at her hastily tied boot laces and chuckled.

"What about you? That injury looks pretty fresh."

"Ain't notin' I can't handle English, had to cut it off to escape, managed to do pretty well I think."

She glanced again at the stump his hand used to be and winced, it looked red and sore and pretty swollen. They made the rest of the way to the van in silence, Heather too scared to speak and he seemed happy to just carry on walking. Before he opened the door to the van he turned to her properly and held out his hand stopping her.

"Now you must think I'm pretty trustin' lettin' you back here this easy...I gotta ask you some questions first English."

Heather gulped, she knew it wasn't as good as it seemed and thought back to her chance of escape.

"You said you were the only survior? So you's ain't wit a group?"

"No...no it's just me."

"How's long it been 'just me'" he searched her eyes with his and she turned away

"A few weeks, only 5 of us managed to escape the attack, me, three other camp leaders and one of the kids. Daniel, the kid was attacked along with Tracy on the first night. Me, Craig and Sarah managed to keep going until Sarah got bit on a supply run, Craig didn't make it past that...he...he didn't make it."

He studied her once again, weighing up his options. He seemed pretty unimpressed by anything she was saying, he looked her up and down once again and turned to open the van. Heather was growing more suspicious. He didn't seem to need her (she very much needed someone else to survive...weather Merle Dixon was the answer to that she wasn't so sure). He'd managed to travel on his own one handed and from the looks of him, well fed.

"Sorry but...what's in this for you exactly? I'm barely hanging on...you look, as far as apocalypses, go pretty comfortable." Her mouth was running away from her again, her time alone had taken its toll.

"There's where you're wrong English, s'pretty hard survivin' single handedly on you's own" He paused to reach into the van where his words came true...the smell of coffee hit her nose as he poured some through a dirty rag into two mugs. "Takin' watch, supplies, Jesus even just been on your own...plus

you're the best look piece a meat I've seen in a long time, and I'm talkin' pre-apocalypse there English." He smirked at her handing her the cup of coffee.

Looking into the mug she could still see ground coffee floating to the surface, but the smell was enough to drive her mad. She took one gulp and let the liquid run down her throat, it could possibly be the best cup of coffee she'd ever tasted, or the worst but it was much better than the warm water Heather was used to .

"Now I ain't sayin' I needs ya, just sayin' you sure could come in useful."

"I have a choice?" She was cautious, so far he'd only hinted at being dangerous...she'd been the one to hold a knife out to him. His had remained securely tucked in his waist band the whole time.

He chuckled "You think ya' can do better on your own?" He was right of course, she hadn't been doing well, she had hardly slept these last few weeks, having to strap herself into trees using her belt, most of her day spent running or hiding. Was putting herself at the mercy of this man any different to surviving on her own? But was it worth it, she had no idea who this man was, what he wanted, what he was capable of. Heather could think of one thing that would giver her her answer; time.

"You got any sugar in there?"

A smile spread across his face.