All was relatively quiet. The only sounds came from their movements as they packed up camp. It was time to move on. Staying in any one place for too long was dangerous, and they had been at this location for three days. There had been very little activity over the past few days, which was a welcomed break, but they knew it wasn't safe to get too comfortable and over-confident when a certain area felt secure. A truly safe location was nearly impossible to find, and, in order to survive a world overrun by the dead, risks had to be taken every day.

Suddenly the pulsating trill of an alarm punctured through the quiet – only just audible. A year ago they probably would not have heard it from their distance, but now there were hardly any other sounds to drown it out. The unexpected noise was startling. It must have been months since they last heard such a commanding sound. Whoever – or whatever – had set it off was not doing themselves any favors. One of the many things learned through the trials of the past year was that the corpses gravitated toward noise. They could be drawn from miles away if the sound is loud enough.

Rachel turned her head in the direct of the alarm, peering through the line of trees as though she would be able to identify its source. Even the slightest noise caused her heard to turn, so this sudden explosion of sound was unsettling. After assessing its likely distance, she refocused on the supplies that she had been stuffing into a backpack. A young girl stood nearby, distracted from her own task of packing.

"What do you suppose is making that noise?" Sarah inquired, her eyes fearfully sweeping the yard.

"Could be any number of things, really," Rachel replied, glancing toward their other companion, Jesse, to gage his reaction. He was busy rolling up the tent that they all shared. "It could be a signal for bad weather conditions. It might also be from a prison. They have alarms like that, I think. It might even be a school. I really don't know."

"Well, whatever it is, it'd probably be best to avoid it," Jesse said, sliding the stakes into the pouch. "It'll be swarming in no time." Sarah gave an involuntary shudder and he changed the subject, directing his next question at Rachel. "The house is stripped of everything we can use, right?"

Nodding, Rachel affirmed that every useful item had been scavenged.

As a means for survival, the three of them – Rachel, Jesse, and Sarah – had been leading a nomadic existence. It wasn't easy and they struggled more often than not, but it had worked in their favor so far. The trio had been drawn together early on, during the chaos that ensued when the dead first began to walk. Rachel was on her way out of town with the hope of finding family, particularly her husband, when she met Jesse. Lost in thought about what was happening all around her, she nearly ran him over with her car. Jesse hardly seemed fazed by the near death experience, looking completely lost and frazzled. Rachel recognized him as the manager from the supermarket that she frequented and pulled over to offer him a ride. A week later, after neither of them found any relatives, they traveled south toward a rumored safe haven. In route, they found Sarah hiding in a house that they had chosen to scavenge for supplies. When her mother failed to return home from work after the uprising, Sarah simply stayed put, waiting. It took a lot of convincing but Rachel and Jesse finally convinced the teen to join them. The three of them had been looking out for one another ever since.

"You all packed up, Sarah?" Rachel asked, double-checking the security of all the items that they were taking with them. The girl nodded as she hoisted the pack onto her back, still watching the fence line for any unwanted activity. "Jesse, you ready?"

"As ready as I ever am," Jesse replied. His eyes followed a similar path as Sarah's, making sure they were clear enough to leave. He unlatched the gate and they began the hike toward a cluster of houses that had been scouted the day before.

The alarm provided a distant soundtrack as they trekked along the side of the road, mostly in silence. If there wasn't anything pressing to talk about, they kept the chatter to a minimum when they traveled. It was better to keep an ear to ground in case they encountered the dead, or even other survivors. Rachel took the lead as they walked while Jesse brought up the rear, calling out directions as needed.

With nothing better to do but walk and watch for the dead ones, Rachel's mind wandered. She reflected on her life, both past and present; many of the same thoughts constantly clouded her mind. How had she survived for so long while so many others died? Her own father would have counted her as dead after the first onslaught of walkers she dealt with. He was always playful when he teased her, but Rachel knew the truth: her father thought she was weak. She lived into that role – the brains, not the brawn – her siblings were much better suited for the latter. Yet here she was, surviving in a world that depended on the strength of both her mind and her body. Rachel knew she had her husband to thank for some of it. He was the outdoorsy type, always wandering into the woods and coming home with dirt up to his elbows. All his carrying on about hunting, camping, and wilderness survival had seemed incessant at times, but at least some of it had been redundant enough to stick with her.

Rachel gave her head a slight shake and refocused on being vigilant of her surroundings. She did not need her mind to travel down that rabbit hole right now – not when they were exposed and vulnerable on the road. Those memories were best saved for a time when the others weren't around to witness the wide range of emotions that pulled on every fiber of her being when she thought of her husband. Rachel inhaled deeply, trying to redirect her mind. It was something she forced herself to do when her thoughts turned dark against him.

Jesse called out in a hushed tone. "Take a right down the next road."

Glancing over her shoulder, Rachel gave him a nod. It was only then that she noticed the alarm had stopped. How long had it been? Not that it mattered much; the silence was welcomed. Anything out of the ordinary always put her on edge – ordinary being a relative term these days. Rachel looked down at her watch. They had been walking for almost a half-hour and according to Jesse, they should be coming up on the houses soon.

They had learned early on that the look of a place could be deceiving. A house that looked uninhabited could very easily be harboring a hoard of dead ones inside. With weapons at the ready, they checked the perimeter around the house and garage. All was clear on the outside.

"Hey, check it out," Jesse called, beckoning them to the garage window that had caught his attention. There was a car inside. His two companions grinned at him. A car was an excellent find; it would provide temporary relief from carrying their heavy bags. The only hoped that it had a sufficient amount of gas in the tank to make it worth their time.

After walking through the house to be certain that it was empty, they set to work, gathering up items that would be most useful. Just like in every house that they scavenged, Rachel could not help but wonder what happened to its occupants. It wasn't often that they came to house that looked relatively untouched and with the car still parked in the garage. The owners must have been on vacation when the world turned; it was the only logical explanation that she could come up with.

Sarah unearthed a set of car keys in one of the kitchen drawers, likely the spares. She took them out to Jesse who was collecting items from the garage. Rachel was going through the closets for any suitable clothes when she heard the car start up. It was such a joyous sound to hear. When they had picked through the entire house, they packed up the car as efficiently as possible.

"Three quarters of a tank," Jesse told them with a smile. "I also found a rifle with ammunition."

"I put the pistol that I found under the front seat," Rachel added. "The extra bullets are in the glove box."

"Good," Jesse replied. "So, if we're going to check out other houses, I think we should walk. There's no sense in wasting the gas we got."

The other two agreed and they spent the rest of the afternoon going from house to house, gathering supplies. Most of the houses that they went into were more picked over than the first, but they were able to find some useful items. When they were inside the fourth house, yet another unexpected sound found their ears through the silence. It was the roar of a motorcycle.

Rachel glanced over an open cupboard door, raising a brow at Jesse. Reading her expression, he tossed her the rifle as she stood. Sprinting to the front of the house, Rachel threw herself at one of the windows that looked out into the front yard. Her heart drummed as the engine grew louder, announcing its approach. She prayed for the biker to pass by without incident. The last thing they needed was trouble from other survivors. The motorcycle and its two riders flew down the street without so much as a turn of their heads.

It took Rachel a moment after the vehicle had passed to realize that she stopped breathing. Her nose was pressed against the window, watching with wide, disbelieving eyes as the bike road out of sight. She drew in a quick gulp of air to restart herself and her heart hummed violently against her chest. All immediate danger had passed them by, but still she stood at the window, stunned and uncertain of what she had seen. She knew that motorcycle – at least, she thought she did. Neither of the two riding looked like its owner. The driver looked a lot like…

No – no, it couldn't be. Rachel gave herself a little shake, trying to regroup. She pulled away from the window and went out onto the porch for some air. The cool, mid-afternoon breeze helped her to feel slightly more composed. Perhaps her mind was leaping to conclusion. It had been weeks since they had last encountered other survivors, and motorcycles reminded her so much of her family. It had to be a trick of her mind – desperation for just an ounce of hope in the midst of chaos. Rachel wanted to believe that her husband was still alive, but even finding Sarah's mom or Jesse's family would be enough at this point. She ran a hand through her hair as she stared down the empty road. The sound from the motorcycle's engine had completely died away. With the whole thing over and out of sight, it seemed absurd to jump to such conclusions about the familiarity of the passersby. Rachel drew in another deep breath and walked back into the house, her heart still racing.

"Is it gone?" Jesse asked. His eyes crinkled as he took note of the change in her demeanor.

Rachel nodded, shouldering the rifle. She moved toward her bag to finish organizing the new items, unable to further elaborate on what she saw – not that there was much to tell.

"Damn thing was loud too," Jesse added, shaking his head. "We should probably head back to the car soon. I think we've gathered all that will be useful. We should think about where to settle for the night."

There was a groan from the other room and then Sarah appeared in the doorway, looking mutinous. "Can't we just stay at that first house tonight? It's going to be dark soon."

Jesse shook his head, dismissing the teenager's concern. "Since we have the car we can head up the road a piece and see what's up further ahead. We can always circle back if needed."

"We'll find some place good and safe tonight, Sarah. I've got this feeling," Rachel said, attempting to reassure the younger girl with a smile. Sarah did not look convinced as she slipped out of the room. Jesse shot a curious look her way and she shrugged. "Well, that motorcycle had to be going somewhere, didn't it?"

"What did you see out there?" he asked, not letting her off the hook that easily. "You looked a little shaken after."

Pursing her lips, Rachel shook her head and sighed. "Honestly, I don't know."

By the time they reached the car, the sun was beginning to set. All the while they walked; Rachel's mind was plagued with the image of that motorcycle. She picked it apart in her head, but was unable to decide if what she thought she saw was real or not. The uncertainty was torture.

"We're going to need to stop soon," Jesse said, glancing at Rachel in rearview mirror as they moved in the same direction as the motorcycle.

"Just a little bit further," Rachel replied, looking out a strip of shops that lined the road. "You said we could go back if we didn't find anything."

They continued for a few more miles. Rachel noticed a sign that read, West Central Prison – 1 mile. Jesse must have noticed it too, because he was looking at her again in the mirror with eyebrows raised.

"A prison!" Sarah said shrilly, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

"It's worth a look," Jesse breathed, shaking his head a little. Rachel agreed, but she also felt a little uncertain with the idea of what could be lurking in a prison.

Up ahead was a break in the trees. Rachel poked her head between the front seats to get a better look as they cleared the tree line. There was a tall fence, laced with loops of barbed wire at the top and a watch tower at the gate. Beyond the fence loomed the silhouette of the prison. Sweeping the length of the fence, the familiar shape of the dead was noticeable in the moonlight, tottering aimlessly in the grass.

"Look!" Sarah shouted, pointing straight ahead. The car's headlights shone on two figures standing inside the gate. They weren't moving and one had a gun at the ready, so they couldn't be reanimated dead.

As the car neared the gate, they got a better look at the two men in front of them. By his choice of clothes, one man appeared to be a prison inmate; the other, a civilian. Rachel felt a chill roll up her spine as the car came to a stop and Jesse threw it in park. He ordered Sarah to stay in the car while he and Rachel negotiated with the two men. The sound of the car had drawn the lurking dead toward it, so they had to be extra careful. Both of them exited the car with their hands in the air, but had their knives accessible if necessary. The younger of the two men, not the inmate, pointed the rifle at each of them as they neared.

"Don't come any closer," he called out.

"We ain't looking for trouble," Jesse replied, hands still up. "We just need a place to camp for a night or two. We don't need supplies. We got our own."

While the two men consulted with one another, Rachel scanned the area, keeping an eye on the corpses that were closing in. She readied herself to lunge for her knife if needed.

"Just get back in your car and get out of here," the unarmed man yelled. "This place belongs to us."

"You don't take house guests?" Rachel shot back, appalled by their lack of compassion. Her eyes widened as one of the corpses was inches from Jesse. There was a shriek from the direction of the car, which redirected Jesse's attention just in time to take down the attacker.

Now wielding her knife, Rachel fended off the dead one at a time by driving her knife into their skulls.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Sarah had abandoned the car to help them. Rachel cursed and worked her way back toward the girl. She could hear Sarah screaming at the two men to help them. It was obvious the teen was at her breaking point from terror and exhaustion. Sarah wasn't going to last very long in her hysteria. Rachel had to do something to make these men see reason. Putting down one more dead body in her path, she noticed a break in the wave. Rachel threw herself at the fence.

"Did a motorcycle come this way?" she asked frantically, throwing looks over her shoulder to be sure nothing was creeping up on her. The two men shared a glance that led her to believe she was on to something, but neither of them responded with an affirmation. Rachel glared at them for a half a second longer, furious that they couldn't be bothered to help. "Look, I saw one earlier today, headed in this direction. Did it come here? Does it belong to one of your people?"

When they held their silence, Rachel shook the fence in frustration, trying her hardest not to burst into tears. She could tell they were holding back the truth. Gritting her teeth, she forced one more question. It was an admission of who she thought was on that motorcycle. The words felt even more ridiculous than the thoughts in her head, but the three of them were desperate for a change of pace – and what if it was him on that bike this afternoon?

"Is Daryl Dixon in there?"

The gunman dropped his hold on the rifle momentarily. The inmate's eyes widened.

"Well?" she demanded and then stole another glance over her shoulder. Jesse and Sarah were still engaged with the dead on the other side of the car.

"What's it to you, lady?" the gunman asked, taking a few steps forward to get a better look at her.

Rachel blinked, stunned by his response. Did it mean Daryl was inside the prison? Was it Merle's motorcycle she had seen? She gripped the chain link, her legs suddenly unable to support the rest of her body. Forcing back the rush of emotion, she replied loudly,

"I'm his wife."