The blow he took to his face came as a surprise. Rick winced in pain falling back in to the dry grass. Who could have hit him?

"Mom," a boy shouted over him, "Mom!" He sounded so much like Carl. Could it be?

"Carl? Carl. I found you," he moaned.

"Mom I got him. I'm going to finish it," the boy gripped his shovel harder. Rick veered his eyes towards the women he called 'mom' with a pistol targeted at the figure that had been shuffling towards him. With no hesitation she fired. Her dark eyes fell on him. "Did he say something? I thought I heard him say something."

The dark haired boy shrugged. "He called me Carl," The women made her way towards the scene standing over the stranger with authority.

"You know they don't talk," she assured, but her brows frowned in doubt. "What's the bandage for?" her tone ordered. It was sharp, testing. This woman meant business

Rick attempted to sit up just as sharp as she pointed the gun towards him. He hesitated.

"W-what?" his eyes began to water from the blazing sun

"What kind of wound?" she cried. "You answer me. What's your wound?" Rick squinted looking down at his side. "You tell me…" she cocked the gun. "or I will kill you,"

Was she serious? She was really going to kill him? What was the world coming to? He opened his mouth to reply, to defend himself, although something held him back. His words felt like weights on his tongue. Rick's vision began spinning now, to see two figures fading. His eyes rolled back, soon to be completely unresponsive.

His eyes shoot open to the sound of footsteps nearing towards him. Rick's hands had been restrained with bungee cords tied to the bedpost. He laid there useless and pissed. Rick glared around the room trying his best to control his breathing.

The dark haired boy he'd seen before was standing at the entrance of the room with a bat close at hand. His lips were pressed tightly together frowning towards him

Snap!

Rick turned his focus on the 'I will kill you' woman removing bloody gloves from her hands. She then placed them in a basin with soap and water.

"Got that bandage changed now." Her voice sounded a little more relaxed. " What was the wound?"

Rick cleared his throat. "Gunshot," he murmured. She turned to look in his blue fix searching for a lie.

"Gunshot?" she repeated.

Rick nodded. "What else? Anything?"

"Gunshot's not enough?" What was his issue? She just got through saving his life and now he wanted to get smart with her.

She stalked towards his bed side with her mouth pinched. Something made her feel good about the way she had tied him up. All those boy scout meetings with her son weren't for nothing.

"Look, I ask and you answer. That's common courtesy, right?" she asked. She waited for him to nod then leaned closely to his face. "Did you get bit?" Rick heard a shocking sound of empathy straining in her strict tone.

"Bit?"

"Bit, chewed, maybe scratched– Anything like that?" she tested.

"No, I got shot. Just shot as far as I know." He concurred, collecting his thoughts. The women reached out to feel his forehead but Rick filched back.

"Hey, just let me," she hummed. This time again, Rick let her cool contact graze his forehead.

"Feels cool enough. Fever would have killed you by now."

"I don't think I have one," She studied Rick's tired face.

"It would be hard to miss,"

All of the sudden she snatched a switchblade from her back pocket. Rick grunted feverishly. This lady was nuts. One second she seemed likable, the next chaotic. "Take a moment, look how sharp it is," she sneered moving the blade to his face. Rick ripped his eyes away. "You try anything, I will kill you with it and don't you think I won't."

She quickly turned the tables by snipping the cords that held Rick with a huff. "Come on out when you're ready," Rick watched her with bloodshot eyes. His chest tightened making it harder for him to breath. He was terrified. "Come on," she spoke to the boy.

Where was Carl? Where was Lori? He had to find his family.

It took him at least an hour to gather his thoughts together. Now, he was just tired of hearing himself think. What was the point when he didn't have any answers? So, he pulled the blanket from the bed, wrapping it around himself, and made his way downstairs. His eyes adjusted to the complete darkness between the stairs and the second floor. He made his way down stumbling a few times. On the ground floor now, he walked towards the only lit room.

The woman who had saved and threatened his life was lingering over the dining room table eyeing the boy who was serving began to get the feeling of familiarity. He searched around the room for answers then noticed the fine dishes in a cupboard beside him. "This place – Fred and Cindy Drakes'?"

"Never met them." The women curled a dark strand behind her ear.

"I've been here. This is their place" he confirmed catching a glance of a family photo.

"It was empty when we got here," Rick griped the blanket tightly around his shoulders making his way towards the window. Before he could get a peek, she stopped him.

"Don't do that." he snatched his hand away from the curtain. "They'll see the light. There's more of them out there than usual. I never should have fired that gun today. Sound draws them. Now they're all over the street." She put her palm to her forehead. "But it all happened so fast, I didn't think," Rick moved away from the window and to the table.

He watched her as she lifted a large tin can and set it on the table.

"You shot that man today." She shrugged settling herself in a seat.

"Man?"

"It wasn't a man," the boy said suddenly. Rick eyed him closely. Was he losing his mind?

"You shot him in the street out front – a man."

"You need glasses. It was a walker. Come on. Sit down before you fall down." She ordered" "Here,"

She started spooning food on to a plate for him. Rick felt his stomach grumble at the sight of it.

"Mom, let's give blessing," the boy said, finally sitting down across from his mother and next to Rick.

"Yeah," she said fixing a dirty look on Rick who had already took a few bites.

He took his mother's hand while she placed a hold on Rick's. The boy reached out to grasp Rick's other hand. Rick, with mistrust takes his offered hand anyway.

"Lord, we thank thee for this food, thy blessings." (she opens her eyes and looks at Rick) "And we ask you to watch over us in these crazy days. Amen."

"Amen," Rick and the boy dug in but the woman just sat there with a lingering stare.

"Do you even know what's going on?"

"I woke up today in the hospital, came home, that's all I know." He said pausing to speak then resumed back eating.

"But you know about the dead people, right?" she went on.

"Yeah, I saw a lot of that out on the loading dock, piled in trucks." His wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"No, not the ones they put down." He fidgeted in his seat. He suddenly became uncomfortable. "The ones they didn't– the walkers, like the one I shot today. Because he would have have ripped into you, tried to eat you, taken some flesh at least." She finally picked up her fork. "Well, I guess if this is the first you're hearing it, I know how it must sound."

Rick shot a look at the window. "They're out there now? In the street?"

"Yeah." She picked through her food. "They get more active after dark sometimes. Maybe it's the cool air or hell, maybe it's just me firing that gun today. But we'll be fine as long as we stay quiet. Probably wander off by morning. But listen, one thing I do know – don't you get bit. I saw your bandage and that's what we were afraid of. Bites kill you. The fever burns you out. But then after a while…you come back."

"I've seen it happen," the boy added with a sad look.

The woman stretched her hand across the table to squeeze his arm.

"Come on," she whispered picking up her uneaten dish.