CHAPTER 1

"Never."

Andrea watched him as he walked away, his broad shoulders moving slightly with the confident swing of his arms. She couldn't quite figure the head of this small settlement out. Unlike Michonne, though, she wasn't eager to cut and run when-for the first time in months-she was able to walk openly down a street without watching her back for walkers.

"I don't trust him," Michonne said.

Turning, Andrea found her good friend standing behind her, watching the retreating back of the Governor. "He's different," she agreed, "but he's got all these people dependent on him."

Michonne shook her head twice. "We should all be armed. Only arming these few men isn't right."

Andrea shrugged, but nodded her agreement. "Maybe the others don't want to fight like we do. I'll talk to him tomorrow. Maybe get our weapons back. We could help watch the walls."

"We could leave."

"Do you really want to do that?" she said, tilting her head and shading her eyes from the setting sun.

The Governor reached the building at the far end of the street and turned to cast a glance their direction before he opened the door and entered.

"I do," Michonne replied, turning on her heel and walking over to the makeshift wall of tires to peer through at the forest beyond.

Andrea woke to the soft sound of pans clattering from a distance. Michonne was sitting in the rocking chair by the window, paging through one of the old books they found stashed in boxes in the closet of their shared room.

"Going down for breakfast?" she asked after her eyes adjusted to the morning sunlight filtering through the sheer, white curtains.

Michonne indicated her disapproval with one stern shake of her head.

Andrea sighed and sat up in bed. "At least try to make the best of the situation. He's given us food and shelter. We've spent the last few months on the run and on the verge of death."

When Michonne didn't reply, Andrea slipped her feet onto the floor and padded into the bathroom to wash her face and tame her hair. When she had dressed herself in an old blouse and a pair of jeans, she left her friend by the window and slipped down the steps. One of the Governor's men was standing watch down the hall at the top of the staircase and she gave him a curt nod as she passed. He didn't return it.

"Good morning," Andrea said as she entered the kitchen and sat down across from the man of the house.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" The Governor replied as he placed his fork on his plate and motioned for the woman at the stove to bring a plate of food for Andrea.

"I did. We appreciate your hospitality."

"It's nothing. We'll get you set up with your own place across the street. Two bedroom work okay for you and your friend?"

Andrea looked down at the plate of food the woman placed in front of her. Scrambled eggs and potatoes were piled in a heap in the middle of the plate. Three long slices of zucchini were laid along the side. "We're not sure if we're staying," she said, digging into the eggs.

He lifted his eyes from his plate and rested his steady gaze on Andrea. "Lots of out there?"

"We'd feel more comfortable with our weapons."

The Governor shifted in his seat. "You're safe here. I run a tight ship." After a short silence with only the sound of Andrea's fork scraping her plate, he continued, "But if you've made up your mind, we'll give you some provisions-food, water, a vehicle, your weapons. Wouldn't want to see you and your friend get hurt."

Andrea looked up to meet his eyes and saw a flicker of concern in their depths. "We can help your men patrol the walls if you give us our weapons back. You're asking us to trust you, but you need to trust us too. We want to survive just like everyone else here in Woodbury. And we know what it's like out there."

He leaned back in his chair and pushed his nearly empty plate away. The woman hovering over the stove was gone, leaving Andrea alone with him. After a long moment of silent contemplation, he laced his fingers together behind his head and watched her with eyes that she couldn't quite read. The fabric of his vest stretched over his chest and bunched up on his shoulders.

"You're a good shot, then?"

She shrugged. "I'm still alive, so I'm good enough."

The Governor's lips twitched as the corner of his mouth turned up in a slight smirk. It made Andrea smile when she caught his eye again. "I reckon you're just as good as any of my men out there."

He was playing with her, teasing her. "You want me to prove it, then give me my gun," she said.

"Finish your breakfast and then take a walk with me," he replied.

They were standing atop a wall along the east side of town. There were two men along the wall within site of them, but they were yards away, out of hearing distance. Beyond that, their attention was focused outward, scanning the low brush across the field.

The Governor had selected a large gun from his personal stash in his house before they left for the wall. Andrea was a good shot, but she wasn't familiar with anything beyond her revolver. His gun was intimidating and it was held comfortably in his right hand.

"Let's see what you got," the Governor said, offering the rifle to her. He presented the butt and grip of the gun to her. Andrea hesitated. "Go on," he urged.

Stealing herself, Andrea took the semi-automatic rifle in both her heads. Unlike the revolver that she had grown accustomed to, it felt awkward and bulky. Despite trying to play it cool, she knew he immediately saw that she didn't know how to handle the weapon.

A high, sharp whistle from their left, startled Andrea. When she looked in that direction, she saw the man stationed on the wall with his arm in the air. He dropped it down and pointed to the tree line. Just a few feet into the grubby clearing were two walkers spaced about four or five yards apart, slowly making their way toward the wall. She wondered if they could smell the people of Woodbury by the way they struggled to hurry across the ground toward the six-foot wall of tires and wood and metal.

The Governor lifted his arm and turned to face the man to their left and then the one to their right. "Think you can take them?" he asked, turning his gaze back to her and the rifle held so awkwardly in her hands.

"Sure," Andrea replied, lifting the rifle up to look down the sight. She was bluffing and it was pretty obvious he was aware of that.

Just a moment before she slid her finger over the trigger, she heard him say, "Brace the butt of the gun against your shoulder. The recoil is stronger than that Beretta you've been carrying around."

Andrea decided to suppress her pride and follow his instructions. She readjusted her grip on the rifle and did as he had told her.

"Lean into the shot, not backward. You'll fall off the wall as soon as you pull the trigger." He stepped around behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, pushing her upper body forward slightly.

"I know what I'm doing," she said even though she was allowing him to move her body into a better position.

The Governor smiled as he moved his hands down her arms and bent her arms to the proper angles His chest was brushing against her back and Andrea began to think about how attractive he was instead about the two zombies coming toward them and covering ground quickly.

"Doesn't that feel better?" he said in her ear. His soft breath rustled the stray hairs that had escaped her ponytail. "Always lean into the shot and be ready to absorb the recoil. Now take a breath, hold it, line up your sights, and pull the trigger real soft." His hands were on her bare arms and she could still feel his body pressing into hers from behind. It put her nerves on edge.

"I got it," she told him. Slowly, he pulled away and stepped up to stand beside her.

Andrea did as he instructed and held her breath right before she pulled the trigger. The bullet hit one of the walkers in the chest, making it stumble back a few feet.

"Shit," she muttered, aiming the rifle at the other walker. This time the round went through the neck of the walker and knocking it over.

The Governor sensed her frustration. "Take your time," he told her.

The third shot hit one of the walkers in the head. It crumpled into a motionless heap in the field as it's cohort continued on with half it's neck missing. Within a few seconds, she had taken it out and left both of them finally and completely dead in the deceptively serene field beyond the town's wall.

His hands closed over the barrel of the gun, gently taking it from her grasp. "Good job," he said, sliding the strap of the rifle over his shoulder.

"I've never shot a rifle before," Andrea admitted.

"I know," he replied. "You're a natural."

His compliment felt good. She looked at him and smiled. "Thanks." Shifting her weight from one foot to another, she said, "So, you think I can join the boys club? Maybe help patrol? Get my gun back?"

The corners of his mouth turned up in a smirk. "Maybe." He turned and took the steps down from the wall without watching to see if she'd follow.