If anyone had told Caterina Miller that she would be fighting for her life outside the Iraq war, she would have just assumed that they were being ridiculous and moved on. Not even in her wildest dreams would she have believed that, one day, she would be fending off the walking dead. Sure, she enjoyed the occasional zombie movie, but she never believed that the dead would actually start rising from their graves outside of a Hollywood set.

Then there was the outbreak.

Now she was on her own, wandering from town to town, looking for supplies to keep herself alive. She originally was with a group of about five others. They were camped outside of Winder, Georgia in an abandoned farmhouse. It had been a good set up. There was a pure water source, plenty of food, decent shelter…

But then the walkers came, and they were overrun.

Walkers—that was what her group had come to call those who had succumbed to the disease. It seemed to make everyone a bit more comfortable rather than calling them "zombies." Caterina felt that it was an appropriate name. After the disease burned you out, your body would rise and return to walk the Earth once more. She'd seen it happen quite a few times. It was a horrible way to go, right up there next to being ripped apart by walkers.

It was several weeks after the epidemic started before she met another survivor. She had been resting on the roof of an abandoned 1968 Chevrolet Chevelle, reading The Raven for what had to be the sixteenth time over a span of one month. Edgar Allan Poe was one of her favorite authors of all time, the other being Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Caterina had always had a thing for mysteries, ever since she was little. She grew up wanting to be in law enforcement, but instead she ended up in the U.S. Military. Who knew?

"Hello?"

Her head snapped up at the voice.

A man was approaching her from up the road. He looked to be in his mid- to late-thirties. He was of average build and height with perfectly cropped chestnut hair and a slight 5 o'clock shadow. She couldn't quite see his eyes but, from where she sat, they appeared blue-gray. He wore a Sheriff's deputy uniform, complete with patrol hat.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," the man apologized, raising his hands to show that he meant no harm. "I was just wonderin' if you needed a ride somewhere."

Caterina didn't answer. Instead, she closed her book and tucked it away in the pocket of her army cargo pants, all the while keeping her eyes trained on the man. She wasn't comforted at all by the fact that he was wearing a police uniform. She knew to be cautious of people, even those who seemed harmless. After all, looks could be deceiving.

"My name's Rick," the man offered. "Rick Grimes. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"I know," she retorted confidently.

Caterina grabbed the Barnett Jackal crossbow next to her. She found it on her excavation through an Academy Sports and Outdoors. So far, it was her favorite weapon. It was silent, so she didn't have to worry about making much noise and drawing any walkers to her. Also, the scope was accurate. The first time she tried it out, she managed to take down a walker from two hundred yards.

She stood up and leaped down from the roof.

"Where did you come from?" she asked as she took a few steps closer to the man.

"Up the road a ways," he replied. "I'm headin' up to Atlanta to look for my family."

Caterina nodded in acknowledgment and shifted anxiously on her feet. It had been a while since she had interacted with another living human. She didn't quite know what to do. But she couldn't blame that entirely on the world having gone to shit. She had never really been the sociable type. That was one of the reasons why she ended up in the army instead of in law enforcement, she supposed.

"Anyone else with you?" Rick inquired.

"No," she answered, "not for a while now."

He nodded. "Well, if you have nowhere else to go, you're welcome to ride with me up to Atlanta."

Caterina hesitated. After everything she'd seen so far, she wasn't too keen on joining up with another survivor. You could never tell who was trustworthy and who would just as easily kill you for your equipment as they would kill a walker. Not to mention that she'd been avoiding the larger cities ever since the start of this apocalypse. It stood to reason that the places with larger populations would have the most walkers.

But, then again, this Rick character didn't seem to pose much of a threat. And the CDC was in Atlanta. If there was even a fraction of the government left, they would be protecting the CDC at all costs.

"All right," she finally agreed. "Just let me grab my pack."

Rick nodded again and watched as she disappeared behind the Chevelle. She reappeared a few seconds later with a military pack hanging off one shoulder. She followed him down the road to where a patrol car was parked. He went to the driver's side and stood outside of the car, waiting for her to get in before sliding in himself.

"How long has it been since you ate?" Caterina asked once they were on the move.

"A couple days, I guess. Why?"

She brought her pack up into her lap and started rummaging through one of the side pockets. After a moment, she pulled out a bag of Jack Link's organic beef jerky. She tore open the bag before holding it out to him, so he wouldn't have to take both hands off the wheel.

Rick glanced over and laughed in delight. "Where did you get these?" he asked as he fished a cut out of the bag.

"I managed to amass a decent amount of food rummaging through abandoned cars and supermarkets," Caterina explained. "Some of the first things I grabbed were foods high in protein. I figured, if I was going to be fighting, I would need it."

"Well, thank you for sharin' what food you have, Miss…" He trailed off, realizing that he didn't know her name.

"Miller. Caterina Miller. You can just call me Cat."

"Thank you, Cat."

There was an extended silence between them. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but it did set Caterina on edge. She didn't know too much about the guy. All she really knew was that he appeared to be a Sheriff's Deputy, and that he was on his way to Atlanta to find his family, whom he had somehow gotten separated from.

"What's your family like?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"My family?" Rick reiterated, surprised at her sudden inquiry. "Well, they're…they're wonderful. That's the only way I know to describe 'em. My wife, Lori, she…" He trailed off again. Caterina looked over at him and saw the pained look on his face. She surmised that not knowing the fate of his family was taking a toll.

"I'm sure your family is just fine," Caterina assured him.

"I sure hope so," he said, his voice thick with emotion. He cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly in his seat, obviously not very comfortable with being seen in a vulnerable moment by someone that he'd only just met. "What about you?" he asked, trying to shit the attention away from himself. "Where's your family?"

Caterina hesitated, not sure if she should tell him or just change the subject. She never was one to talk about stuff like that. She'd been reserved for as long as she could remember. It was hard for her to talk to her own brother about a lot of things most of the time. Whenever he wanted to know something, he often had to drag it out of her.

She sighed and leaned back so that her head was pressed against the headrest.

"I haven't seen them in a little over a year," she relented after a long moment, deciding that it would be hypocritical to just brush him off when he'd just responded so openly about his own family—still, that didn't mean she had to tell him everything. "I've been out of the country. I got back just a couple of days before all of this happened." She made a vague gesture out of the window.

"That must've been horrible," Rick acknowledged.

Caterina shrugged. "I'm used to carnage."