Chapter 1
The farm was gone, and with it the security and feeling of home. They had been on the run for five weeks, stopping only long enough to grab supplies, and only as opportunities arose. The homes they had come across showed signs of abuse, neglect, and haste. On occasion, they found signs of the living, those—like them—running from location to location, trying to find somewhere safe. Rick and his group were not alone. There were others like them, doing what they had to in order to survive. Doing what they had to in order to keep each other safe: Keep their families safe, keep their children safe.
It would only be a matter of time before scavenging would not be enough: Heat, clothing, food, and a place safe enough to rest. Lori was beginning to show, and moving slower because of the baby. Glenn and Beth were both fighting an illness that concerned Hershel. Nasty chest colds that had the potential to turn to pneumonia.
They had all lost weight.
They were all exhausted.
They were all running on fumes.
Rick continued his hunt for a new home, a castle with guard towers and moats, a place to raise his family and grow old with those that fought beside him. He wanted more than just a place to rest his head, food to eat, a place to stop for more than a couple hours. He drove the lead car, with Carol, Carl and T-dog. Hershel, Maggie, Lori, Beth and Glenn had all climbed into the older suburban once the old pick-up blew a fuel line. Daryl continued to ride his bike, despite the growing cold and rainy conditions.
The Georgia weather had been kind, until the rain started 24 hours earlier, and with the rain came colder temperatures, and gusting winds. It was not cold enough to freeze—at least not yet—but it was just a matter of time before it would start. Winter was well on its way, and with it came shorter days, longer nights, cold and dreary mornings and sometimes ice and snow. Rick glanced at the rear view mirror and spotted Hershel behind him with his left hand on the steering wheel and Lori looking out the window toward the vastness of the land. Rick glanced toward Daryl, who continued to battle the weather on the back of that god-forsaken bike. The black rain slicker he had been using had started to fail, the seams had ripped, and the ties had broken off. Daryl would not leave the bike, not until he had to, and Rick had decided long ago not to push the issue. They had all lost enough, and more than likely, they would all lose a lot more before this was over.
Hershel sighed, and listened to Beth cough. She cleared her throat, tried to make herself comfortable on the back seat and continued to stare out the window toward the Georgia landscape. The branches of the chestnut, oak, and cypress trees swayed as the winds blew, and she glanced forward when the rain once again pelted the windshield.
"You doin' okay, Bethie?" Hershel asked, and glanced at the rear view mirror, watched her nod, and wrap the blanket around her shoulders. He looked toward Glenn who rested his head against Maggie's shoulder. His breathing was still ragged, but he had come through the worst of it. Antibiotics would not work—not on this—and what he did need: food, water, warm clothes, and a bed—they did not have. Hershel sighed, and tried to focus on what he could control rather than what he could not.
Lori turned in her seat and looked toward the three of them. They looked like refugees, recently escaped from a war zone. She reached for Hershel's arm as he gripped the steering wheel. "I'm sure Rick has a plan." She tried to sound reassuring, but the unease of her voice gave way to uncertainty.
Hershel nodded, leaned back and placed his elbow on the window-well of the door. "The engine," he said, taking a deep breath, "it's overheating again." He sighed tiredly and flashed his lights, then noticed Rick tap the brake lights in acknowledgement before he pulled off to the side of the road. Hershel followed, and listened to the gravel crunch beneath the tires. He cut the engine and looked toward Lori. "You stay here. I'm goin' to chat with Rick."
Lori nodded and smiled tightly. She looked toward Maggie, who was exhibiting symptoms of the flu that would eventually move to her lungs. She looked exhausted: Dark circles hung beneath her eyes, cheeks flushed, and despite her strength of character, Lori could tell she had been crying.
Exhaustion could do that: Bring the strongest of them to their knees, and cripple those who would otherwise be untouchable. Despite their strength and the desire to move on, they were all at risk—not just from succumbing to a cold or the flu—but from complete collapse.
Hershel raised the hood of the suburban, and then raised the collar of his jacket to keep the rain from dripping down the back of his neck. He turned when Rick stepped beside him, lean forward and carefully twisted the cap off the radiator. He sighed as the steam escaped and noted the low levels of water.
"We need to stop," Hershel said, and looked from Rick to the car at his back and then at Daryl who had turned his bike around.
"We can't—at least not yet," Rick said. He turned as Daryl set the kick and killed the engine. He pulled his leg over the seat and quickly unhooked his bow from the back of the bike.
Hershel took a deep breath and watched the rain continue to fall. "Glenn and Beth are sick and need time to heal, Maggie is coming down with this flu, Daryl is soaking wet and it's only a matter of time before he ends up sick—or worse, Carl is exhausted—"
"—We're all tired," Rick said, then watched Daryl walk past the suburban to watch for threats, "but we have to keep movin'—"
"—No," Hershel said. He winced against the rain. "I understand your determination to find a place, but unless it's just down the road, we're not going to be in any shape to get there unless we all stop—including you. Our bodies weren't meant to go this long an' this hard without food or sleep—" he looked at his watch, "78 hours, Rick, is too long. We're fortunate nothin' has happened—" he paused with a subtle shake of his head as Lori stepped out of the truck, the door squeaked as she closed it.
With her arms crossed over her chest to ward against the cold, she walked toward them, looked toward Rick who clenched his jaw and then looked away. "Maggie's sick—" she said, and looked toward Carl who continued to watch from the back seat of the car. She pursed her lips and forced a smile. Carl shrugged, and continued to watch.
"—Where're we supposed to go?" Rick clenched his jaw, and frowned. He looked toward the road before returning his gaze to Hershel. "There're walkers everywhere—I can't keep everyone safe battling them and us." He ran his fingers through his hair, sending droplets toward the ground. He was tired too, though he understood the need and urgency, he also understood the unpredictability this new life provided, and how quickly threats could change. He shifted his weight and placed both hands on his hips.
Hershel nodded, but maintained his stance. He scratched his chin, and felt the rain soak through his clothes. "I trust you, Rick, and I'm trusting you with the lives of my daughters—and I'm telling you, we can't go on like this—even if it's just for a day. We need time to rest."
"It doesn't have to be perfect," Lori said, and brushed her dampening hair from her face, "just someplace dry, someplace where we can collect ourselves—even for a little while." She turned and looked toward Daryl and then back toward her husband. "What happens when you get sick, or Daryl—I don't think he's had dry clothes since it started raining—at least we can—"
"—Don't you think I've thought of that," Rick snapped, frowning as he pulled his eyebrows together. He took a deep breath and paused long enough to look toward the car he had been driving and noticed Carl looking toward him. Rick exhaled and nodded. "Couple more hours," he looked at Hershel, "we'll find somethin'." He replaced the radiator cap, placed his hand on the hood and slammed it shut. For a moment, he held Lori's gaze, before nodding toward Daryl and turning to walk back to the car. He knew what they needed, and he knew they were all looking to him for answers he simply did not have.
Lori sighed and returned to the passenger seat of the suburban.
Hershel paused at their cold interaction. He clenched his jaw, took a deep breath, and looked up in time to watch Daryl cough and then spit before reattaching his bow to his bike. "You alright?" he asked.
Daryl nodded, swung his leg over the seat and quickly started the engine.