Tree branches billow past, reaching out like arms with claws at the end, grabbing at him with sharp points, grasping at his shirt and ripping it.

He has forgotten to try and muffle his movements as he sprints through the forest - as he flees for his life. No – it's more than that. He's more than forgotten – he's not even trying anymore. It's against everything he's ever done in his entire life. He is a hunter; he is the unseen; he is the wind that rustles the leaves but leaves no trail.

He is not this bumbling idiot crashing through the forest, boots cracking every twig in its wake, shirt snagging every branch along the way. You could hear him from a mile away.

No, this is not Daryl Dixon.

This is a man running for his life.

An entire hoard of walkers is surging toward him from behind. They move like a wave in slow motion, like a room that's flooding sluggishly. Growing; expanding; inching forward with one ultimate goal in sight. Move, and conquer. Except, this wave has a more sinister drive. Among the thoughtless instincts lay an insidious intention: Feed. And Daryl Dixon is the entrée.

He feels, in this moment, very much like the carrot dangling from the end of a stick that's held in front of the donkey. He can only keep moving, because if that donkey gets ahold of the carrot…

Let's take a step back. How did he get in this position? How did the infamous Daryl Dixon find himself in such a compromising situation? Well, for starters, Judith needed formula. And Daryl just had to volunteer.

He's gone soft. Ever since that little girl went and got herself lost in the woods, he's become softer than feather fletching. Admittedly, Sophia's situation struck a chord deep within the man. He knows what it feels like to be lost in the woods. He knows how terrifying that is, even without the demonic undead chasing after you. There was really only ever one option for him. It was as simple as breathing: he knew he'd have to try as hard as he could to find her.

Well, that's how it had started. And it hadn't gone unnoticed by the group. Daryl could see it in T-Dog's eyes when he brought Sophia's doll back to him. He could read it from the tray of food that Carol had brought to him when he was injured. He even saw it in the way that little Carl stood a little straighter when he came near, as if being in the presence of some kind of hero.

He had never been anyone's hero before.

And so, after Laurie died, and the baby's cries echoed through the walls of the prison, something became apparent to those who weren't blinded by grief. It had actually been Daryl whom had addressed the elephant in the room.

And he had stated it so eloquently. As Beth cradled the small infant in her arms, Daryl had approached the crowd gathered around her and simply stated this: "Lil' Ass Kicker ain't got teeth."

Oh, how everyone had gawked at him. Beth had started to make an amused comment along the lines of yes; Judith had no teeth, and prepared to launch into a drawn-out explanation of human infants and their quirks. Like how to work a diaper, the fact that the head should be cradled, and their notoriously short sleeping periods.

But Daryl barreled right over her and elaborated his comment. He meant that she had no teeth, and would therefore need formula. And now that she brought it up, diapers, too. Beth had turned an alarming shade of red, and the group had started discussing who would be going to scavenge for the formula.

In the end, Maggie had insisted to come along. Everyone else was needed to stay behind for one reason or another, and truth be told Daryl didn't mind Maggie. He found that she had a good head on her shoulders and kept Glenn in line. When had he stopped calling Glenn Chinaman?... Never mind that.

Daryl had a pretty good idea why Maggie was so persistent about going with him, but they hadn't felt the need to justify their actions to each other.

Finding a place with formula had proved a daunting task. There were several stores that Daryl had suggested, all of which Maggie refuted. More often than not she admitted it was because she had already scoped these places out beforehand, upon Laurie's request.

They struck gold with an elementary school that doubled as a daycare center. Actually, Daryl had very nearly blown past the place on his motorcycle, but Maggie tapped his shoulder and nodded to the deteriorating sign.

At first, there had been a few walkers that the pair had needed to pick off, but overall it was surprisingly barren, given the size of the place. So they delved deeper, all the while keeping their eyes open for a nursery. They located it quickly enough, and in no time at all they left with their bag nearly spilling over with disposable bottles and formula.

That's when the successful trip took an ominous turn. Daryl had located a side exit while Maggie stuffed the bag with their finds, and together, they decided to do one final sweep of the nursery before taking the shortcut.

Oh, how foolish they had been.

Daryl and Maggie exited the nursery. He led her towards the side exit, head darting back and forth as he checked behind them down the long, dark corridor. An unspoken dread had settled on both of them, mostly because it was too easy. The whole thing had been way too easy, especially for Daryl, and he wasn't surprised to find a few stray walkers shoot out from the darkness behind them.

After that he felt a bit more satisfied. It seemed a bit more balanced now; peril had snuck up behind them, and that's what the norm is these days. So when Maggie took the lead through the side door, he didn't give it a second thought. What's the difference who leads the way out at this point? He's right behind her; he's got her back.

The doors of the side exit were large, windowless, and were equipped with bars to push instead of a handle. They were heavy-duty steel, and the sheer size of them should have clued them in on the fact that maybe the doors didn't lead outside. Maybe it had opened to another hallway, or a playground, or in this case – a cafeteria.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The doors swung open and right away, the smell hit them like a tidal wave. Death, plain and simple. It was enough to curl the hair on your arms, wilt any sort of vegetation. It reeked. The smell wasn't just an effect of death, it was enough to kill. And isn't that ironic?

Maggie had stumbled back, throwing her hands to her face so she could clamp them over her nose. Tears sprang to her eyes as the scent permeated the air, and even Daryl had turned away for a moment.

They had been caught off guard. Foolishly, they had assumed those few walkers that surprised them in the dark was all there was. Perhaps the prison had spoiled them. Perhaps the thought of returning back to feed the infant distracted them. Perhaps their lack of recent exposure to this world dulled their vigilance, but whatever the case, there was a massive crowd of walkers in that cafeteria. And they had just opened the cage door.

Long story short, Daryl was out of arrows, Maggie had been separated from him, and he found himself sprinting through the woods. The hoard of walkers had thinned, but there were still 50 or so stumbling after him. It was an unsettling mixture of children and adults. If he had had the time, Daryl would've mused that perhaps the elementary had been set up as a temporary-makeshift refugee center.

But he didn't have the time. All he knew was that he was out of ammo, out of breath, and out of luck.

He didn't know how long he'd been running, but he knew he was far enough along to make turning back for his motorcycle no longer an option. The forest was growing thicker with each twig that snapped under his feet.

He had lost his poncho somewhere along the way. His arms were covered with little scratches from tree branches. His mouth was so dry, his tongue felt like a lump of cotton. His lungs burned like you would not believe, and he had lost feeling in his thighs, which quivered like jello with every step.

But the herd was still giving chase.

And he was still alive.

So he ran.

And then, he tripped.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He tripped over a root, bit down on his tongue as his jaw collided with the Earth, and didn't stop there. He tumbled down a steep drop. His limbs were a jumble, legs over arms, shoulders touching knees, hands grabbing onto tufts of mud and dry leaves as he struggled to find purchase on the ravine.

He rolled to a stop at the end, and the ends of his fingers were tickled by something wet. Hot, liquid iron flooded his mouth. Disoriented, he groaned and tried to sit up. The world was spinning around him like a top. A bone in his ankle felt… wrong. Adrenaline hazed over the pain, so he didn't know if it was broken, but he knew that it probably wasn't meant to be sticking at that angle.

He huffed and tried to find some air. The wind had been knocked out of him, and he lay on the ground, gasping for breath like a fish out of water. He looked up at the sky, its serene azure a stark contrast to what was happening down here on Earth, and the trees were still spinning in his vision. Black dots joined the leaves and danced around in the wind, and he struggled to stay conscious.

Something tugged at his boot. He let out a strangled yowl, sounding vaguely like a wounded cat, and shot up from the ground. He almost fell back down, but by some miracle he managed to balance on one leg and kick his way back from the walker that grasped at his injured ankle. He growled low in his throat, desperately backing away.

He found that the liquid that had tickled his fingers belonged to a river. He was now scrambling into it, and the water splashed around him like a living thing. He paid it no mind, labeling it the lesser of two evils, as he sought refuge from the straggly walker. It found its feet and waded sloppily in the ankle-deep water after him.

The water had reached Daryl's chest as he crawled away, but he didn't dare stop. The water was up to the walker's calves, but it was standing and that gave it the distinct advantage, and it was too close for comfort to Daryl. He picked anything he could up from the bottom of the river. Rocks, twigs, and mossy leaves were slapped onto the walker's face. It stumbled for a moment when a particularly sticky handful of leaves latched onto its eyes.

Daryl took that as his chance and pulled himself onto his feet, screaming a little when he put weight on his ankle. All he knew was that he needed distance between himself and that walker, and scrambling like a crying schoolgirl wasn't doin' it. His crossbow was lying on the bank, mud, leaves, and twigs caked onto it. He was nearly weaponless. For a moment he actually thought he was, and then he remembered the knife on his belt.

He tugged it free and when the walker was close enough, he stabbed it into its head. The walker fell with a mighty splash, and Daryl almost sagged down into the water with it in relief.

As it was, he swayed on his feet and nearly did fall in after it. But he managed to stay upright long enough to wade out of the river and back onto the bank.

His butt slapped the wet mud as he collapsed next to his crossbow. He was heaving shaky breaths as the adrenaline wore off, unable to think of anything but the pain in his ankle and his brush with death.

But Daryl Dixon is a hunter. He is resourceful, and he is strong, and he is selfless, and he is a survivor. He is quite possibly the luckiest bastard alive, and mused this to himself as he dragged his injured ankle closer to his hands.

He thought of how Merle cut off his hand on that roof to survive. Surviving is in his blood. It's been pounded into him from day one, and right now, while he's on his last leg, it's all he's got. And he's not about to stop.

Just as he leaned forward to yank up the leg of his pants and get a better look at his ankle, something latched onto his shoulder.

He screamed, swatting at the new pain. It was too much, he very nearly fainted right then and there, but his fists connected with flesh, and as soon as they did he realized his mistake.

In his haste to escape that other walker, he had forgotten about the hoard that chased him. Now, the few who had tumbled down after him had found their way to him. And they were converging on him, and he was buried under them.

He remembered one last thing before the blackness took him.

He was alone.

Brittany Mathers let out a scream of frustration. She slammed her buzzing controller down, kicking over her glass of cream soda in the process.

The screen of her TV flashed red, and the camera zoomed away from Daryl Dixon in a blurred, crimson-tinged haze. It flashed and taunted her for her failure, and she took a look at her soaked carpet before deciding it was time to take a break.

"Stupid game," She muttered under her breath as she stormed into the kitchen to grab a roll of paper towels. "Not as good as the comics, anyway."

As she began to blot up the cream soda from her carpet, The Walking Dead theme song blared from the speakers of her phone. She sighed and wobbled over to it on her knees. Her hand plunged into the seat of her gaming chair, digging around for her phone that had been buried in its cushions.

She let out an exasperated sigh as she finally yanked it free. She answered it, and before she had the chance to say anything, a familiar voice cackled out, "Save me."

Heaving an annoyed grunt, Brittany wobbled back over to the mess. She tore off another paper towel. "What?" She muttered into the phone.

She pressed the paper towel to the carpet and waited as it sucked up the mess.

"If I have to do any more of these taxes, I'm killing myself. My eyes are about to fall out as it is." Her best friend dramatically declared. In spite of herself, Brittany cracked a grin. "Save me." She added.

"What did you have in mind?"

"The new Walking Dead game is out at Best Buy. I've heard it's to die for." She let out an amused snort at her pun, and Brittany rolled her eyes. "Let's buy it, then hole ourselves up in your house for the rest of our lives."

Brittany bit her lip. "Oh, I might have heard something about that." Her eyes flickered to the screen that was still blinking at the scene of Daryl's death.

Amy, her best friend, paused. "You bitch."

Brittany bit back an amused snort. "What?"

"You've been holding out on me!"

"I've done nothing of the sort," She smirked.

"That's it! We're through," Amy continued dramatically. Sounds of something smacking a surface cackled over the speaker. "I can't take this anymore! You never share anything with me. This relationship has always been one-sided; my mother was right!"

Brittany crumpled up a paper towel and let out a laugh, the tension from before leaving her body.

"Admit it." Amy pressed. "You hate me."

"Oh, shut up. I've got cream soda and cookie dough ice cream."

"…What level are you on?"

Brittany scowled, looking back at the screen with her lip snarled up. "Three. I keep killing Daryl."

"I was always better with the crossbow." Amy sniffed.

Brittany huffed, frowning. "No, you can't use it – you know what. I'm not saying anything else. You'll see, just get over here."

"No. I want my own copy. They're also selling t-shirts. I've had my eye on that Glenn one." Brittany could hear her smirk through the phone. "Love me some Pizza Boy…Meet me at Best Buy."

Brittany dramatically groaned, as if it was some huge inconvenience. "Alright, I suppose." She conceded.

Half an hour later, Brittany and Amy were standing outside the Best Buy. They were both gawking at the sheer mass of people inside.

"I don't understand." Amy said. She ran a hand through her bright red hair. "I thought you said you'd already been here to buy it?"

Brittany shook her head, her eyes never leaving the giant line that spilled out to the parking lot. "I did."

"So what's all this?! You could have mentioned it!" She gestured wildly to the line, and Brittany tore her eyes away for the first time since stepping foot in the parking lot to look at her friend.

"I don't know," She honestly admitted. "It was crowded, but… not like this. And I was at the midnight release."

Amy's head whipped around, her eyes throwing accusatory daggers through Brittany's skull.

Brittany winced. "Ah," She guiltily started, but Amy interrupted.

"You what?"

"I'm sorry, okay! But you were on your date."

"No I wasn't! The guy was a total sleaze; I was home by eight." Amy let out her own wince, and Brittany's eyebrows shot up.

"News to me! See, we're all guilty here."

"Alright, alright." Amy conceded. "Let's just get in line."

"This conversation isn't over," Brittany waggled her finger in Amy's face. She was dying to hear more about the supposed-disaster-date, but dropped the subject for the moment.

Amy rolled her eyes and they stepped into line.

After an hour of standing in line, they finally reached the front doors. Amy was excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet, pushing on Brittany's shoulder as she tried to see over the crowd of people.

"We're almost there, we're almost there, we're almost thereeee!" She sang, clapping her hands together.

"You know, I do have the game at home…" Brittany tried for the sixth time.

"Up-up-up!" Amy's hand shot up in a silencing motion. Brittany's mouth clenched shut. "I don't want to hear it, traitor. I am well aware that you already have the game."

The line moved forward, far enough that they were allowed in the store, and neither were prepared for what they saw when they stepped in.

The right half of Best Buy had basically been turned into a Walking-Dead-fan heaven. "Zombies" who looked like they had just stepped off the set were dotted throughout the Walking Dead section, stationed at various locations. They almost seemed like party balloons, if one was being honest, and it didn't stop there.

There were several tables set up. The tables had obviously once been neatly stacked, but in customers' scramble to pick out the best stuff, it had all been mixed together and disheveled. Stacks of the basic DVDs of seasons one through three were all mixed together, a few had even fallen to the floor. It looked like a mountain of plastic squares.

Past the initial few tables, which had been filled with the same DVDs, the crowd grew thicker.

Brittany and Amy floated forward in a daze. "Special Edition, Deluxe Edition, Limited Edition – I missed this?" Amy said slowly in awe.

Brittany raised her eyebrow. "Me, too." She said dryly.

"Brittany, there!" Amy cried, shoving past Brittany and nearly climbing over her in her haste to reach the bin next to Brittany.

Brittany let out an indignant ow, and harrumphed as she rubbed her shoulder where Amy had clipped her. "Geeze. Could've just asked."

Amy paid her no mind as she pawed through the massive pile of games. A few moments passed, and she had actually worked up a sweat. Brittany grew bored and started to curiously peer around. Before she could really look at anything, Amy let out a small, "Whoa," And grew very still.

Brittany looked back and interestedly stood on her tiptoes to catch a glimpse of what Amy was gawking at.

Sitting in front of her, perched on the top of the pile she had dug through, was the new game that Brittany had bought, complete with a Game of the Year addition, and also the Survival Instinct. It was the Holy-Grail of all game packs, and they were staring at it right in front of them.

"Whoa." Brittany breathed, echoing Amy's earlier comment.

"Yeah."

Amy picked it up carefully, cradling it to her chest like a newborn infant. Brittany smirked at her and congratulated her best friend, although she was admittedly a teensy bit jealous. Just a little though.

"Come on," Brittany said, tugging at the sleeve of her best friend. She had been meaning to get a season three DVD. She had already gotten the first two, because those were her favorite, but it was really time to complete the package.

"Sure," Amy said, New-Game-Bliss clouding her face. Brittany pressed her lips together and led the way.

As they approached, something caught her eye. Brittany came to a stop and her jaw fell to the floor. Then, quick as lightening, she dropped her friend's sleeve and bolted towards the shelf.

She came to a stop and gawked at the DVD case on the shelf. "Ames, would you look at this!?" She cried, snatching up the box. It was a Limited Edition Season 3 DVD box – but unlike any other she had seen. It was a miniature replica of the Governor's tank of walker heads, complete with water and lights. She picked up the example display and turned it over in her fingers, gaping at how the DVD was housed.

"That's it." Brittany declared, still in awe. Amy had her eyebrows raised, her game pack clutched to her chest as she leaned closer in interest. "I have to have it."

"It'll look sweet next to your Screwdriver Zombie." Amy mused quietly to herself. "Damn." She whispered. "I might be a little bit jealous right now."

Brittany smirked. "I told you the Screwdriver Zombie would pay off."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You've still got a little drool on your chin from when you saw my game pack."

Brittany scoffed, and subtly wiped at her chin when she thought Amy wasn't looking. Finally, she picked up the glorious Limited Edition Season 3 DVD, and now that they were both satisfied, they took the moment to stroll through the rest of the displays.

Fifteen minutes later, Brittany had two new boxes in her arms and Amy had four more t-shirts in hers.

"We should probably go, before I see anything else that I need to buy." Amy grinned, and Brittany laughed back.

"Yeah, this was probably a mistake. I'm walking out of her at least 150 dollars lighter. I don't think my wallet can take –" she broke off, because at that exact moment, the crowd that had been gathered around something in the deepest part of the store had parted in just such a way as to allow Brittany to see what all the fuss was about.

She fumbled to keep ahold of her boxes. In her haste, she nearly knocked the game pack from Amy's hands.

"Hey!" Amy started, and Brittany lurched closer to her friend.

"Amy, look – look right now," She hissed furiously, smacking her best friend in the ribs with one of her boxes. Amy bit back her comment and followed her friend's gaze, and then they were both gaping. "Oh my – Amy, what's happening?"

Amy's mouth opened and closed like a fish. "I – I don't – I mean, it's not… that can't be." Both girls paused, looking at each other. "Right? It can't be."

They looked back, going quiet. A laugh filtered out from the crowd, and was soon echoed by others. "But it is." They said quietly, inching forward. The crowd parted again, and they caught another glimpse.

It was like a switch was flipped then. Both girls scrambled forward, and Brittany almost dropped her boxes at least three times. Together they pushed through the crowd, until at last they stumbled forward.

There, sitting at the table, was Robert Kirkman.

He was signing a guy's comic book, grinning and laughing at something he said. They seemed engrossed in the conversation.

"I can't believe this," Amy said, and Brittany never tore her eyes away from the scene.

"I know." Brittany breathed. "Hey," She frowned. "I don't recognize that comic."

Amy perked up, standing on her tiptoes to try and catch a glimpse.

"It's there, too," Brittany supplied, gesturing to the stacks of comic books next to him.

Amy squinted at it and tilted her head. "Huh. Maybe a closer look…" They stumbled forward, dodging limbs and people, until they reached the stack. She plucked one up and held it up for Brittany to see, too.

"This is too weird." Brittany said. "It's a Special Edition. But set earlier… like, first volume early. That doesn't make any sense."

Amy raised her eyebrow and shook her head. "Yeah, I don't know. I have both Compendium Editions, Brit, and this is a completely different design. Do you think he wrote a new … version? Or revised it?"

"He released an earlier version of it." Chirped a girl with a bouncy pony-tail and glasses that glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights. Her nose was too small for her face, vaguely casting the impression of Cindy-Lou-Who, and her teeth were too big for her mouth. "Apparently, he had an alternate version all along and just now decided to release it. Like, he's been holding out on us. Ugh!"

Amy and Brittany frowned at each other, processing the news. "Wha-but… that doesn't make sense."

"Well, I don't know all the details, but apparently this one didn't make the cut. Like, he had a version that he was collaborating on with the other writers, and then his own version, too. When it was made into a show, it was just easier to go with the one we all know and love. He never even had his own published. This is the first time it's seen the light of day." The girl clicked her tongue. "Of course, he would wait until season four to release it… I can hardly wait to get home and read it. Look!"

She jumped forward, shoving her way between the friends. They looked at each other, disgruntled, but pressed their lips together anyway. She held up one of the alternate-comics; apparently she had already purchased it and torn the plastic off. She flipped it open to a random page, where a girl could be seen leaning casually against a wall next to Daryl Dixon, standing outside a guard tower at the prison. She held a gun in her hand and they seemed to be discussing something.

"This is a whole new character and everything! She was there the entire time; it's like a big section of the show was missing. A whole chapter that no one knew about… until now." She chattered on, flipping through the pages too quickly for any real impression to be given of the new character.

Amy and Brittany exchanged alarmed glances.

"Wow," The girl suddenly breathed. She looked up at Brittany with a frown. "She sort of looks like you…"

Brittany blinked and took a closer look. Sure enough, the girl had a similar build and height, and even mirrored her same unruly blonde curls.

"Scratch that." The girl shook her head. "She looks a lot like you. Yeah, those are definitely your man shoulders. And your thunder thighs." She paused, and then looked up excitedly at Brittany, who was vaguely offended. "You should totally meet Robert! It'll totally freak him out!"

"Totally," Amy quipped, earning a sneer from the girl. But Brittany paid no mind; she was too busy gawking at her doppelganger in the comic.

"Weird," She breathed, reaching forward to touch the comic.

"Hey!" The girl with the bouncy ponytail whined. "Watch the merch," She sneered, snatching her comic out from under Brittany's shaking hand.

Brittany shook her head, blinking.

Jeeze, talk about an overreaction. And she wasn't sure whether that thought was referring to herself, or the teenager.

Amy shot her a quizzical look, but before any more could be said between the friends, the ponytailed-adolescent latched onto Brittany's wrist and tugged her forward.

"Excuse me, coming through, move!" She yapped, shoving people aside and dragging Brittany along roughly.

Brittany resisted the urge to yank her hand from the ostentatious teenager and smack her, opting to instead pass her boxes into the waiting arms of Amy.

"Mr. Kirkman!" The teenaged child hollered, standing on her tiptoes and waving her hand to get his attention. She bobbed on her heels to be seen over the heads of other fans. "Mr. Kirkman, it's me! Melody!"

Ah, so the snarky bitch has a name. Brittany rolled her eyes and shot Amy a look, but before she could surreptitiously comment about Melody's vain disposition, she found herself being tugged forward for the zillionth time that night.

Brittany winced as Melody literally shoved a child to the floor and raced to fill his spot. She whirled around on her heels, frantically waving for Brittany to join her and barely pausing long enough to see her do it before waving her hands like a maniac again.

"Mr. Kirkman! Mr. Kirkman, look who I found!" Melody hollered at an unnecessary volume. She frowned and glanced at Brittany. "I don't think he can hear me, hold on, I'm gonna try to get closer."

Brittany cringed, as Melody was basically already on top of the table that the comic book author was signing at, and he was undoubtedly ignoring her.

She leaned across the table, reaching over other fan's arms and tapping on Mr. Kirkman's shoulder.

"Mister Kirkman." She bellowed. "I'm back, it's me, Melody Keller! Remember? You told me that you'd name a character after me!"

Robert Kirkman winced, sliding a comic back across to a sympathetic fan and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and turned to look directly at Melody.

"Yes, Melody." He said, both his face and his voice tight. "I remember. What is it now?"

Brittany grimaced at his clear annoyance, simultaneously sympathetic for the comic book author, and also the teenager.

"I've totally found the perfect person to star as your new character. Look!" She beamed, smug and gesturing to Brittany like a trophy.

Robert closed his eyes and sighed, murmuring to himself and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Melody." He said tiredly, and Brittany had half a mind to sink back into the crowd. Alas, the death grip that Melody's pointy little talons had in her arm would never allow that. "We've been through this. The comic is never going to be adapted for film; I've released it as a personal favor, so we won't need any actresses – be it you or –" He cut off abruptly, his mouth hanging open in an unfinished sentence. He had been gesturing to Melody, but upon moving to point at Brittany, came up short. He gaped at Brittany and his face paled faster than she'd ever seen before.

"Oh, that's alright. The character is too dry anyway; I'd never be able to bring her to life. I don't think anyone could, actually, and I want my debut to be poignant and memorable. Not to mention her hair… it looks like wet popcorn," She broke off, turning to Brittany with wide eyes. "Oh, not that yours looks like wet popcorn! It's more like… a mop. Very Hermione."

Brittany squinted at her, but her attention was diverted by a hand on her arm.

"You… Look just like…" Mr. Kirkman was gaping up at Brittany like a child starring into a candy shop window, his mouth open and his eyes glazed over. "This is so bizarre. Peter!" He suddenly screamed, whirling around in his seat and gesturing madly at a man who appeared extremely stressed out. He interrupted Peter apparently chewing out a zombie for breaking proper-character, and Peter shifted his fire-filled gaze to Mr. Kirkman.

Brittany winced. If looks could kill… "What!" Peter seethed at him, but Mr. Kirkman didn't even blink.

"Come get a picture of me and…" He turned back to look at Brittany.

"Oh, uh, Brittany. Brittany Mathers." She supplied quickly, picking at the hem of her shirt nervously.

"Me and Ms. Mathers!"

Peter gaped at him for a moment, apparently disbelieving. "Take it yourself." He snapped.

Mr. Kirkman raised his eyebrows. "Trust me, you're going to want to see this yourself."

Dozens of pictures and an hour long conversation later, Brittany stumbled towards the exit of the Best Buy with Amy stuck close to her side.

"Can you believe it? I can't believe it! He was all, this changes everything, and I've got to blow this picture up for my office, and – oh god, is it me, or was he starstruck to see you?" Amy gushed, her hands fluttering around her face like two butterflies on crack.

"Brittany?" Amy said, looking at Brittany in mild awe tinged with envy for the millionth time that night. She snapped her fingers in front of her best friend's face, and Brittany blinked, turning her glassy eyes to her friend.

She blinked. "Is this real?" She murmured.

Amy smirked. "What, you mean the writer of Walking Dead fangirling over you? Or the fact that he followed you on Twitter and posted a picture with you on Instagram? And then another of you holding a comic strip featuring your twin next to your face?"

Brittany blinked again. "That actually happened?"

Amy giggled "Yeah!"

The girls stepped through the sliding glass doors, but before anything else could be said between the two, the alarms wailed in their ears.

The store had thinned considerably since they first entered, but what customers remained paused from snapping pictures of Robert and peered curiously at the pair of friends.

"Mam, your bag please?" Said a burly man, who looked like three of Brittany smushed together.

She gulped and read the bold white print across his black t-shirt. Security…

Her eye started twitching. "Okay…" She said quietly, handing her bag over without a fuss because she knew he wouldn't find anything. Amy did the same to a thinner guard nearby while he searched her bag.

He pulled out a box and held it up to her face. "Mam, care to explain?"

"What?" Brittany snapped, finally coming out of her starstruck bliss. She blinked rapidly, focusing in on the box in his hands.

"What the –" She started to reach for the box, but the large man stepped back and put a hand up in warning.

"Mam," He pressed harder, his voice raising in volume. "I'm asking you to cooperate. Now you can tell me how this got into your bag," He waggled the box that contained a rather pricey looking camera in his hand. "Or you can resist me – either way, the cops are getting called, and you're not leaving this building until that happens. So it's in your interest to cooperate with me."

"But I never even went anywhere near the cameras!"

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "This box says otherwise. Did you try to steal from this establishment?"

"No!" She exclaimed, frantic now. "I don't even know how I got that!"

He calmly nodded, patronizingly gesturing for her to follow him. "This way, mam."

"No, you don't understand!" She reiterated. "I wouldn't steal! I was in the Walking Dead part, over ther –" She broke off, spotting a young girl with wire rim glasses and teeth too big for her mouth.

Melody. She was pressing a hand over her mouth and stage-stifling a giggle, waggling a finger at her as her companion took pictures of Melody being escorted away by security.

She narrowed her eyes at the girl, and Amy suddenly lunged for her. "Why you little," The thinner security guard latched onto Amy before she could attack Melody. "Let me go!" She screamed. "I'm gonna wring her little chicken neck! I'll snap it in two!"

Brittany gasped, frowning at Amy's overreaction. Amy was notorious for having a temper, but even Brittany could admit that she was taking it too far with the death threats. Especially since they're on thin ice.

The two girls were dragged through the store to a back room, and were deposited there while the security guards left to call someone.

"Everything is awesome," Amy sang, clicking her pen on the desk. Brittany had her head in her hands, her fingers tangled in her unruly blonde curls. "Everything is cool when you're part of a team –"

"Amy!" Brittany finally snapped, raising her head and glaring daggers at her friend. "Would you shut up?"

"Okay, fine." She said, putting her hands up in a surrendering fashion. "Jeeze…" She looked around, clicking her pen a few more times. Before Brittany could snatch it away, she stopped and turned to face her. "What do you think is taking so long?"

Brittany sighed, sitting back and sinking into her chair. "I don't know, Ames." She rubbed her eyes. "All I know is that I didn't steal that camera."

Amy scoffed, "It had to have been that little shit Meredith."

" – Melody."

"Whatever. Did you see the way she was snickering? Ugh, if I had gotten my hands on her…"

"Amy," Brittany began delicately. "Don't you think… I mean, that was just a little bit –"

"What?" She said, staring uncomprehendingly at her friend.

"…Ah, I just mean that maybe your reaction was a little… Drastic."

"Drastic?" Amy raised her eyebrows. "What are you saying?"

"I'm just saying that we could've handled the situation better, is all." Brittany said defensively, crossing her arms.

Amy frowned, nudging her head forward in disbelief. "I was sticking up for you."

"No, I know!" Brittany waved her hands around dismissively. "It was just a little… too much."

Amy scrunched her nose up. "Unbelieveable. You know, ever since Brad dumped you, you've been –"

"Don't bring him into this!"

"I'm just saying! You act like he was the godamn messiah! He was a total piece of shit, Brittany."

"Amy, shut up!"

"No! I've been waiting to say this for a long time; hell, everyone has! He treated you like crap –"

"I don't wanna hear it!"

"Well maybe you need to!"

"This isn't about that!"

"It's always about him!"

"What –"

Suddenly, it seemed as if the whole earth was set off its rocker. The ground shook violently, and the cups of water that had been brought to them a few hours ago teetered slightly, the liquid dancing unsteadily.

The overhead lamps swayed dangerously. Argument completely forgotten, Brittany jumped to action and tugged her friend off of her chair. She knocked her to the ground just as one of the light fixtures tumbled down to the ground, spearing through the flimsy plastic chair she had just been seated in.

"Jesus Christ!" Amy hissed, kicking away from her chair. The two friends scrambled to stand up. "What is this?!" She turned to her friend, latching onto her arm so hard that her knuckles turned white. "Is this an earthquake?"

"We need to get to cover!" She gasped, and they struggled to stay on their feet as they fought for their balance on the quaking cement.

To Brittany, it felt like the room they were in was a snow globe, and some giant hand was shaking up the papers and anything that wasn't nailed down inside it. Papers littered the floor, the table that they had been seated at moments before was knocked over. More light fixtures crashed to the ground, and they shielded their faces as glass sprayed up from the impact.

It was happening so fast, they hadn't even had time to run for cover in the midst of it all.

If anything, the shaking grew more violent. Brittany began scanning the room for sanctuary, and spotted it in the form of a sad looking table with a coffee pot on the top. She held her hand out to say something, but fell short when she saw the very ground beneath them splitting into two... before she could say anything, her friend's hand collided with her shoulder.

"Brittany, look out!" She screamed, and Brittany felt white hot pain lace crackle behind her eyelids… and then, blackness…

So this is an idea I've been playing around with. It will be an AU, in which an OC is dropped into the Walking Dead Universe. What do you guys think? Should I continue?