Author's note: Hey, guys! For anyone new to my writing, this is the sequel to Dixon Daughter, and I highly recommend you go read that so you can better understand what's going on in this one. To anyone who has read Dixon Daughter... welcome back! Hope you like this one, too. So... get into it! Enjoy :D

Start of the outbreak

Evelyn rolled over in her sleep, which ended up waking her up. She groaned in pain and opened her eyes, curling up slightly. Anne darted an apologetic look at her, then looked back at the road ahead of her. The only reason this had happened was because of her. Evie had been sticking up for her, that was all. She didn't deserve this.

"You alright, Evie?"

"What do you think?" The child challenged. She still hadn't forgiven her mom for what had happened, believed that she shouldn't have married the guy in the first place. But no one could have known that this is what would happen.

"Look, baby –"

"Don't call me that. I'm not a child anymore."

"You're nine, honey. I'm sorry, but you're still a child. I just want to say –"

"I don't care. Pay attention to the road. Wouldn't want to crash." Evelyn muttered. For a nine year old kid she could honestly seem like a spoilt teenage brat with an attitude problem. Anne hoped that if they found Daryl he'd manage to persuade her to change, to make her open up. A small smile tweaked at her lips. That would be the day. He was probably about as bad as Evie was, if not worse. Anne slammed on the brakes and Evelyn yelped in surprise and pain.

"Shit!" Anne hissed. Evelyn grabbed her crutches and made her way to the front of the camper van, a worried look in her eye.

"What's going on?" She asked. Anne shook her head.

"I'm not too sure. Stay here." She said, standing up and opening the door, walking out onto the now completely backed up road. Traffic jam. Of all the times...

"Mom!" Evelyn called out. Anne turned around and ran back to the camper van. Evelyn had sounded scared. There was a crash and then nothing.

"Evie? Evie!" Anne called out. Evelyn stumbled out of the camper van, her crutches and clothes covered in blood. She looked terrified, tears streaming down her face. Possibly from pain, considering it wasn't just her leg that was broken, but one of her arms was fractured. Anne pulled the girl into a hug, looking down at her.

"Are you alright? What happened?" Evelyn didn't reply, just buried her face deeper into Anne's jacket, "It's OK, you're OK." Anne crooned, then pushed her away gently and headed into the camper van. There was a body on the floor, its head a messy pulp. Anne couldn't help it. She screamed.

Now

Evelyn

She walked through the abandoned streets, keeping an eye out for walkers and other people. It was getting dark and the wind was picking up slightly. She pulled the tattered remains of her shirt tighter around her, wanting to maintain what little warmth she could. She headed into the closest house, pulling out her gun and checking every room to make sure the house was completely empty. She then checked for a back door, ensuring she had at least one other escape route, then made her way up the stairs so she would have a better vantage point. She dumped her bag on the floor, pulling out a small pack of nuts of some description, counting her luck that she had no nut allergies, that she was only allergic to nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs. Well, that she knew of. But not being allergic to nuts right now was the main blessing. She hadn't managed to find any food recently. She sighed and sat down on the windowsill and looked out over the abandoned town, keeping an eye out. She didn't know how long she could keep this up for. She had been running for more than a year now. She looked up at the darkening sky, watching as the clouds rolled in.

"It's gonna get cold tonight." She said, looking around before remembering she was alone. She shook her head, rubbing the back of her neck with her right arm, the scar on it clear even in the gloom. She missed her friends, hoped that they were safe, that they had gotten out. Hoped that they were somewhere warm.

"I know you can't hear me, but still... I hope you're in better condition than I am," She murmured as she looked back out the window, settling down for a long cold night, "Hope you have some form of shelter."

The group

Daryl sat looking into the fire, watching the patterns it made with its flickering tendrils that reached for the sky. His crossbow was beside him, though he only had a couple of arrows left. He had lost a few by now, some he just couldn't retrieve because they were in the middle of a walker herd, others had gotten broken, and some he simply, somehow, managed to lose. Carol moved and sat next to him as he chucked another log on the fire.

"You alright?" She asked. He grunted in answer. He knew what she was talking about, but he didn't want to talk about it. It was a pitty that she did.

"I know what it's like, you know. To lose a kid."

"Rambo ain't lost."

"You don't know where she is. Anything could have happened to her." Carol pointed out. Daryl looked at her, unimpressed. He knew she was just trying to comfort him or something like that, explain how he was feeling, but he knew all this. These had been the thoughts he had been thinking for slightly over a year. Judith was curled up in Carl's arms, almost asleep. It was quite late and they had done a fair bit of walking since they were kicked out of the last camp they had set up. Some bastard set fire to it while they slept. Rick was already asleep by the side of the barn they were sheltering in. It was falling down, its roof collapsed in places, but they had managed to find a seemingly stable enough area to set up camp for a night. Enid was resting her head on Carl's shoulder. It seemed like over the past year they'd gotten even closer, if that was possible. Half the time it seemed like they were essentially inseparable.

"She could have been bit, could be dead."

"She's smart, she knows how to look out for herself."

"Yeah, but shit happens."

"What do you want me to do? Just assume she's dead?"

"No, I want you to look for her." Carol said, perfectly calmly. Daryl looked at her like she was nuts. He knew she had lost her own kid, who would be around Rambo's age, a bit older. The girls she had pretty much adopted would also have been similar ages. He knew she had suffered when they had died.

"She doesn't want to be found." Daryl said. Carol shrugged.

"How do you know?"

"Because she said as much."

"When? In the journal? Things might have changed."

"If she wants to be found she'll find us," Daryl said, standing up and grabbing his crossbow, "I'm gonna take watch. You better get some sleep." And he left the barn, going and sitting outside. He just needed time to think. The wind was picking up and rain was starting to come down in buckets. He hoped that Rambo was alright, hoped that she had found somewhere out of the rain. Who knew where she was at the moment, she mightn't even still be in the same state as them. He watched the rain falling, just thinking. He seemed to be doing a lot of that recently. Mostly he thought about Rambo, about where she could be. He hardly ever thought of her as Evelyn now, she just didn't seem like the name was right for her. He had forgiven her for what happened ages ago, though he wasn't so sure if Rick did. She had, after all, put everyone in danger, and the gun shot wound still gave him pain on nights like this. Daryl thought that Rick forgot on occasion that the only reason he was still alive was that Rambo had risked her own life and donated blood so that he could survive. Yes, she had mucked up, but she had also risked more than her fair share to keep them safe. Hell, she was already losing a lot of blood when the transfer started. If he wasn't already dead, Daryl would have killed the prick who did that to her. He looked up at the sky for a second, then shook his head. Chances were that Rambo didn't even think of them anymore. She had always found it easier on her own, even when she was just a kid. Or that's what she had said. She was a rather solitary person. Was she even still alive? He had to believe that she was. His daughter being dead wasn't an option.

Evelyn

There was a crash from downstairs and she frowned, carefully getting off the windowsill and crossing over to the door. Was she found, or was it a walker? Might be just another traveller seeking shelter from the storm. She held her gun at her side, ready to fire, her machete in its sheath, ready in case things turned bad. There were footsteps on the stairs, then the heavy sound of someone tripping, the quiet sound of someone cursing. It was quiet, but she suspected that it was a guy, judging by the voice. She rested her hand on the handle of the door, readying herself to open it. It opened outwards, and the hall wasn't very wide. The footsteps resumed, and soon they were right outside the door. She opened it, sending the boy falling backwards, clutching at his nose. She looked at him coldly as the blood poured out.

"Shiiiiiiiiiiit, that hurt! Wha – "

"Shut up. I don't fancy anyone hearing where we are." She hissed. The boy looked at her in confusion, propping himself up on his elbow, still covering his nose with the other. He didn't look like much of a threat. From what she could see of him in the gloom, he had pale blond hair and reasonably fair skin, even though it was slightly sun damaged. He didn't appear to have any weapons on him. She lowered her gun and put it back in its holster, holding out a hand to help him up. He looked at her for a moment, then took her hand in his bloodied one. She pulled a face. She did kinda deserve that.

"Who are you?" He asked in hushed tones.

"I'm Rambo. You?"

"Dillan. Rambo is a weird name, for a girl." The newbie said. Rambo rolled here eyes.

"If you think that Rambo is my real name, you're dumber than you look." She hissed as she pulled a handkerchief out of her pack, handing it over to him after wiping her hand on it. She then went and closed the door behind him, still wondering if she should trust him. She didn't know him, though he seemed perfectly harmless. Felix had seemed like a perfectly harmless person, and yet he would have happily slit someone's throat while they slept. She still felt the loss of her old friend quite keenly, it was a burden weighing on her every day. No one who knew him except her knew he was dead. She had never told anyone about his death, not that it mattered. Carl had been about the only other person who knew both her and Felix. Dillan was looking around the room, holding the handkerchief to his nose and trying to stop the bleeding.

"You here on your own?"

"Yep, just me."

"How long have you been on your own?"

"A while."

"You're not very chatty are you?"

"Nope, and I wish you'd shut the hell up. I'd rather not be torn to shreds by walkers because of some guy I just met who refused to shut up."

"Well, that was just said." Rambo turned and looked at him with cold eyes, contemplating the many ways she could kill him if worst came to the worst. Why had she trusted him in the first place? Maybe she was more lonely than she realised. Dillan watched her as she set up a bed roll and sleeping bag. It was a thin sleeping bag, but warm enough. It added another layer at any rate. Dillan, meanwhile, had a nice leather jacket and hoody. Evelyn was mildly jealous. Maybe she could kill him for the jacket and hoody? She shook her head slightly, smiling at how petty she was being.

"What?" Dillan asked.

"Nothing. You got the time?"

"Ah... no. My watch died a couple of days ago."

"What about the day?"

"Um... July 23rd."

"You kidding me?" Rambo looked around at Dillan with an amused look on her face. He shrugged.

"Weird of me to keep track, I know, but I need something to stay the same. Keeping track of the date was my way of preventing insanity." He explained. Rambo smiled slightly and shook her head, looking back at her makeshift bed.

"These days, you're lucky if you don't show one sign of insanity I suppose. Being sane these days is completely different to being sane back before the world went to shit."

"I guess so," There was silence, "So how long have you been in here for?"

"I only got here tonight. Leaving again in the morning."

"Then shouldn't we be getting some rest?"

"We?"

"Look, I'm on my own and I have been going a bit loopy. I don't think I can survive a lot longer on my own."

"You managed this long."

"My mom died recently. I was travelling with her." He drew in the dust with his foot and Rambo stopped moving. She knew what it was like to lose her mom. It had been painful. She looked back around at him and nodded.

"OK then. You can travel with me for a bit, though I don't see how it'll be a hell of a lot safer than if you travel on your own. It ain't just walkers trying to kill me."

"Walkers?"

"Undead freaks, walkers, whatever you want to call them." Rambo shrugged carelessly. Dillan snorted, looking rather amused.

"Yep, OK. So who else is trying to kill you?"

"Group I used to be with. I kinda killed two of their leaders. It's a long story, one that I don't really want to talk about."

"Then can I tell you about me?"

"Not like I can stop you, unfortunately." Rambo muttered. Dillan smiled. He had a nice smile, crooked, kinda awkward looking, but all the same, it was nice. And it was genuine. It made for a nice change, having someone genuine around. All the other people she had been with, aside from the group in Alexandria, had seemed false for a while. Everyone except this guy, apparently. He sat down opposite her.

"Dillan Jay McIntyre. That's my full name. Mom named me after my dad. He died before I was born, building accident. She looked after me as best she could, never remarried. I had an older sister. Marie. She was the nicest person I knew, I could tell her anything. She watched me while Mom was out working. When everything went down she was out with friends. I haven't seen her since. Mom and I managed to get out after looking for her. Got caught in a traffic jam then went the rest of the way on foot."

"Where are you from?"

"Outer reaches of Atlanta. Man, Mom and I ran. We just ran and ran. Ended up with a group of people who looked after us. We travelled together for a while, until recently when we got separated. Herd of moaners walked through."

"Moaners? That what you call the undead freaks? Or walkers?" Evelyn asked as Dillan went slightly pink, "There are a lot of different names for these things, aren't there? I've heard them called biters, walkers... skin eaters, lurchers. It's interesting what people come up with. So what happened to her? Your mom?"

"She got bit. Told me to keep running. Then I came here. So there you go. My life in a nutshell."

"Sounds fun."

"Yeah... what about you? Where are your folks?"

"I lost them." Rambo looked at her hands. This wasn't something she wanted to talk about. Dillan looked away awkwardly, thinking about what she had just said.

"Looks like we have something in common, then." He said after a moment. Rambo shrugged.

"Perhaps."