AN: Hello! Welcome to my new Walking Dead story. This has been floating around in my mind for just about ever now and I really want wanted to give our Daryl Dixon some love. This will be an eventual Daryl/OC, shouldn't be that long though, before we get to some loving. I don't know, we will see. I hope you enjoy. I own nothing but Eliza, Josie and whatever characters you don't know.

I am also reediting this story. There isn't going to be many changes. Just a few. Really it's just hopefully going to be better written.

Enjoy!

Chapter One

Eliza thought that being bit was the way she was going to die. Over the past few months, everyone else seemed to have perished that way. Everyone around her had quickly fallen to the epidemic; succumbing to the virus. They became groaning, stumbling, mindless creatures. They no longer seemed human at all. It was something straight out a movie. How could she outrun the inescapable? The horrible end of turning out like them. The putrid smelling, decaying walking dead.

They were around every turn. They were waiting, lurking, stumbling around, looking for their next meal. Looking for the warm flesh of a human, a species that was becoming less and less frequent to come by. Eliza had seen the bastards sink their rotten teeth into at the skin of a fellow survivor and tear out chunks of muscle and tissue. They did not care if they got an arm or leg, nor did these infected only want the brains like zombies portrayed by Hollywood. They just wanted to eat and eat and eat. Nothing but the bones remained, once the dead were done feasting.

But here she was, lying propped up against a tree, waiting to be eaten. It was not like she wanted to just roll over and wait for the dead to stumble upon her. She just could not run anymore. The pain was too much. This was where she was going to die. Not because some dead bastard took a bite out of her but because her own damn feet. She was going to die of blood loss all because she tripped over a stupid rock. A large gash trailed up her thigh, her jeans split open as blood still pooled outside her body. There was another wound on her side, the red blood staining her dirty white shirt. Her skin was sickly pale from the blood lost. Her frail body struggled to breathe. She was surprised none of the dead had found her as she continued to fade in and out of consciousness.

She was going to die. Eliza knew it and she hated the fact. Not because she would be leaving a beautiful world, her only chance at life, but because she would be leaving her child. Her precious baby girl would be left alone in this horribly, ugly, apocalyptic world with no one to guide her to safety. Eliza turned her gaze upward into the tree she was slumped against. She saw the outline of the barely four year old girl sitting among the branches. Eliza had told her not to come down until someone who was not bit came across her. Eliza felt more pain about leaving the young girl; it was all she could do to fight the oncoming death until someone found them and could take her daughter with them to safety.

When Otis stumbled upon Eliza, he thought for sure she was dead. From where he stood, her breathing was too shallow for him to see. If it was not for the dirt on her skin, she would have been as pale as a corpse. Her leg and side were coated in blood, probably meaning she was bit. She showed no signs of life.

Otis walked softly toward her, gun ready in his arms in case she had already turned into a walker; every precaution had to be taken these days. Snap! Otis' breath caught in his throat. The large snapping sound sounded through the clearing. Otis cursed his luck; he had stepped on a branch. He had not wanted to make any noise to alert the dying woman to his presence if in fact she was already turned.

Up in the tree though, the sound startled the little girl. The girl was instantly awake, looking for the cause of the noise. Peering down through the leaves, she saw an older man in giant overalls. He had a gun in his hand and was shifting slowly toward her mother. She leaned down to get a closer look at the man when her hand slip causing her to cry out in surprise as she almost fell from the tree.

Otis looked up at the cry, finding her startling blue eyes through the green foliage. She was young, completely dirty from head to toe. Her blonde curls were in knots all over her head. She looked scared at being discovered. "Shh, I ain't gonna hurt ya. I promise ya that," he said softly to her. "I'm Otis. Is this your big sister?"

The little girl shook her head frantically, her knotted hair flying around her face. "Momma!"

Otis wasn't sure if the young girl was answering him or calling for the older girl. The woman looked too young to be a mother. Eliza's green eyes opened then, waking at the sound of her daughter's distressed voice. Her head was in a fog. Finding her daughter in the tree, she followed her gaze to Otis. Shock registered on her face as she scrambled for her knife, but she could not seem to find it. Her moves were clumsy and slow. She couldn't see right, much less processes the situation well.

"Please don't hurt us!" Eliza begged, her voice a wispy southern drawl.

"I'm not gonna. Are ya bit?" Otis asked, referring to the spots where blood seeped out of her.

"No, no. Not bit," she told him. "Just fell."

"Then I'm here to help," he told her. "I live on a farm nearby. The owner can stitch ya up and give you and your daughter a place to stay."

Eliza nodded and slipped back into the darkness, unable to stay awake any longer. Otis cursed while shouldering his gun. He reached up to help the young girl out of the tree. He scooped up her mother being careful not to touch any of her wounds.

Otis turned to the little girl who looked unsure of what to do. "Can ya walk?" She nodded. "Well come on then, young one. I bet my wife has some sweet tea and food goin'. I betcha you're starvin'."

She young girl smiled at the thought of food and walked toward the giant man. She grabbed a handful of his jeans to make sure she wouldn't lose her way or get separated from him. They started off toward the farm, Otis taking it slow so the little girl could keep up with him.

"Can ya tell me your name, sweetheart?" he asked her.

"Josephine," she said brightly, her blue eyes twinkling up at him.

"Well Josephine, I'm Otis."