Chapter One

Running. It felt like they'd been running for hours; days, even. They hadn't stopped running since they left the prison.

The prison. Everyone they loved, everything they'd built—gone. Just...gone. Daryl's chest constricted at the thought. He couldn't run anymore. He collapsed in a heap, overcome with grief. Beth had already succumbed to her own grief and exhaustion, so they lie there in the field, each consumed with their own thoughts.

Fuck. Beth. What was he supposed to do with her? For her? She'd just seen her father be decapitated right in front of her. In the ensuing chaos, she'd lost her sister. The poor girl would have to be traumatized by what they just went through. But Daryl had never been one for any sort of social interaction, never mind comforting a grieving teenager. He was in so much pain himself. How could he be there for her? God, he couldn't even think straight right now. He knew she wanted to look for the others, but although he'd never admit it, he was afraid. He was afraid that they wouldn't find anyone. He was afraid of what they would find. He didn't know if either of them could handle that right now. He couldn't even allow himself to think—to hope—that they would find anyone alive. Where had hope gotten them so far? On the run because of a madman, separated from their family—that's where.

They both heard the moans in the distance. He glanced at Beth to see if she was recovered enough to continue, and she looked like she was. Ah, youth, he thought. He could have stood a bit more time to catch his own breath, but there was no time. He had the fleeting thought that maybe he shouldn't have started smoking again, as he forced himself to keep up with Beth. His lungs were on fire. He cursed his stupidity—it was just one more wrong choice; one more failure of will. He'd gotten too complacent.

They ran until the sun went down, but they weren't able to get as far ahead of the herd as he would have liked. More walkers kept joining the herd from the forest surrounding the field. Luckily, they hadn't encountered any walkers in front of them—yet. Suddenly, just when he thought they would never find a place to hide, they broke out of the forest to find themselves on a road. There was a broken-down car right in front of them. He vaguely registered Beth trying to start the car as he scouted the area for walkers. They were all behind them, but it wouldn't be long until the herd also broke through the forest. He looked back at Beth; she shook her head. Shit. The car wouldn't start. The only other thing to do, then, was to hide in the trunk. He ushered her in and then climbed in himself, tying the trunk closed with a rope.

He put his finger to his lips as he looked at Beth, silently admonishing her to be quiet. She stared back at him with wide, terrified eyes, and nodded. She knew. She looked away, gazing fearfully out of the small space where the trunk was open to the night. The walkers had caught up to them, and were bumping against the car as they passed by. It was unnerving. He tapped her on the leg with the back of his hand to get her attention, and silently mouthed, "Sleep." He nodded down at a blanket that was left in the trunk. She could use it for a pillow. He didn't know much about what to do for her, but he could do the basics. He thought about Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. He'd read about that when he was her age, and as a survivalist, he'd taken a keen interest in the bottom tiers of the pyramid. She needed sleep, food and water, and shelter. Hell, so did he, but he was responsible for her at the moment. They had enough water to get them by until they could replenish their supply. Food was going to have to wait until the herd passed. This trunk was going to have to do for shelter, such as it was, for the time being. But he could make sure she at least tried to sleep. He knew they were both exhausted. She gave him a look like he was crazy, but slowly and silently shifted to lie down anyway, using the blanket as a pillow. As soon as she laid down, she was out like a light. He huffed out a quiet chuckle, and turned his attention back to keeping guard.