Disclaimer: The title of this work belongs directly to The Walking Dead's Robert Kirkman as does the characters created from both the comic and television show The Walking Dead. I only own this story idea and the characters that I create within this work of fiction.

Author's Note: This is a Caryl story, but will contain other characters as well. The last thing, I should do right now is start another story, but another fan fiction writer suggested using writing to heal. Right now, I am having some health issues so this will hopefully be that distraction. For those waiting on updates, I apologize as I have hit writers block with my existing stories. I will be finishing them I just need to get my mojo back! This story will be M for dialogue, violence, and smut.

We Are The Walking Dead

Chapter 1

The sound of his boots against the steel floor resonated throughout the freight car as he paced its length. His muttering low enough that words were indistinguishable.

"This is bad." It was a statement that left no room for question that came from the back of the car.

"What do we do?" Her brown eyes widened as they focused on Abraham.

Abraham looked down at Rosita and over to Eugene who made the last statement devoid of emotion. They were looking to him for an answer. They were his charges. He wasn't sure he had one.

"Fuck." Sasha slid down cold steel wall to the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. "We are so fucked."

Bob shook his head as he dropped down beside Sasha. His chest tightened at the look of despair on her face.

Maggie looked to Glenn as her fingers tightened around his.

Tara eyes held a worried look as she watched Rick.

Michonne squeezed Carl's shoulder before stepping forward toward Rick, her eyes shooting toward Daryl's.

Daryl looked to Rick.

"Rick?" Michonne asked, hesitantly.

Everyone turned as Rick's steps stopped mid-stride along with the mutterings. He looked up his face drawn and taunt.

"We need a plan."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sun was bearing down on both of them for most of the day. Tyresse wiped at the sweat gathering at his brow. She insisted on carrying Judith yet she was a good clip ahead of him when the brick building came into view. Tyresse stumbled over his own feet on the track as the letters glittered against the brick in the afternoon sun. Terminus.

Carol turned around. She smiled, briefly. "Almost there."

Tyresse nodded and returned her smile as he shielded his eyes with his hand against the departing afternoon sun.

It was probably her first genuine smile in days. She waited for Tyresse to catch up to her on the tracks. She watched as he slowly jogged forward. She hated the stillness of standing there. It was harder when they were not moving; it gave time for thinking and remembering something she couldn't afford to do anymore. She would never feel right with this man. Not after Karen. His sorrowful forgiveness had settled into her soul. Another dark notch to go with the rest, soon there would be no room for anything else. She was exhausted, suppressing every thing, every memory stuffed deep down. It was suffocating her. She was drowning in it.

"Don't think ya wanna go that way."

The voice broke her reverie, Carol's eyes narrowed as she looked to the left and right, her hand tightened on the handle of the gun on her hip.

"Your not that good, sweetheart."

Carol looked up at the man sitting at the base of the tree. A rifle sat with ease on his knee. He was easily in his sixties with shoulder length grey and white hair. His smile was crooked, but welcoming. His big brown eyes crinkled at the corners, lines that came from the sun, age, and laughter.

"Darling, I am not a foe." His voice was tinged with a thick southern accent. He was from

"How do I know that?" Carol asked, every muscle on high alert.

He smiled again. "Ya don't know for sure. Guess ya follow your gut." He dropped the rifle to his side.

"Who are you?" Carol asked her hand still hovering over her gun as Tyresse caught up to her.

"Carol?" Tyresse stopped his eyes following hers gaze up the hill.

"Sam." The man answered as he reached into his pocket of leather vest, pulling out a worn pack of Lucky Strikes. He extended them as an offering.

Tyresse looked at him. "Are you from Terminus?"

Sam shook his head.

"Are you going there? Are you alone?" Tyresse asked, confusion and fear etched in his voice his face a road weary reflection of his voice.

Sam lit the cigarette, taking a slow drag. "Not alone. Not going there and I suggest you don't either."

Tyresse looked at Carol.

"We are tracking two of our own. Been tracking them for about twenty-four hours."

"You have a group?" Tyresse asked.

"We have a group. Just three of us out here though," Sam stood up, stretching his lanky six foot frame

Carol and Tyresse exchanged looks with each other

"Take it, ya haven't had the best experiences out here?" Sam's brown eyes focused on them.

"Does anyone?" Tyresse asked. He wanted to believe this man, God, how he needed to believe this man.

Carol was fairly certain that there was no one left to trust. "You were tracking your own people?"

Sam nodded. "Yep. JD and Brooke. Ya know not much changes at the end of world. Teenagers still do stupid shit."

Tyresse nodded. "I have a sister."

Sam smiled, one eyebrow arched, crooked smile in place "She's younger I take it."

Tyresse nodded. His own hand had dropped from his gun handle. He was tired, too. It was exhausting this unending distrust of others.

Carol's guard was still up when Sam's friends stepped into view. A man and a woman, standing with Terminus in the background, they were the warriors of that Carol was certain.

"Bought time ya'll got back," Sam grinned at them over Carol and Tyresse's shoulder.

A/N: Please let me know if you feel this is worth continuing. Thank you very much for reading.