I have to say, thank you ARG613. Half asleep so I got a lil stumped by your review, but it's all good now. My sister posted the wrong chapter for me last time. This is the second chapter.

R&R please, flames and praise alike are welcomr.


She watched from the bedroll, her caretakers still unaware of her analytic eyes.

There was a woman standing just outside the open tent flap, her body tall and spindly, lanky. Her hair was wild on the crown of her head and her long fingers held onto her hips in a defiant stance. Her eyes were darting everywhere; to the flames of a fire just behind the man she was speaking to, to the strange woman on the bedroll, to the children playing somewhere she couldn't see. A tall man stared down at her, his lips quirked and pursed together. He had his hands on his hips as well, leaning towards the woman slightly.

After another moment of staring, he reached back and rubbed his neck, groaning as he took a step back.

"We can' take anymore people, Lori. An' what if she turns out to be a danger to the group?" He argued, holding a hand out to her.

She rolled her eyes. "The Dixons bring back plenty of food, we have extra tents, plenty of space and do you see her?" Lori gestured to the tent. "She's skin and bones. If we send her out there, she'll die. Shane, just let her stay until she gets back on her feet."

Shane sighed and looked towards the girl. His eyes widened slightly, spooked by the fact that her eyes were latched onto him with a strange intensity. He swallowed hard, looking back to Lori and then back to her. They were both eyeing him, waiting for his answer. Whatever answer he gave would sort this woman's future out in more than one way. But she was staring at him, staring at him with those large eyes. How could he say no now?

"Fine." He shook his head a little. "She can stay, but she's your responsibility. I'm not gonna bite my tongue if she messes up."

Lori glared, watching him give the stranger one more fleeting look before he turned his back and walked towards the R.V.; he was being completely irrational. Lori wiped at her forehead with the heel of her hand and turned to walk into the tent, glancing briefly at the young woman, who had her eyes closed again, truly trying to get some sleep, and then Lori crouched down, staring at her harshly.

She was so thin, her skin was straining to stick to those cheek bones that were jutting out under her eyes. The concern Shane showed may be for nothing, but of course Lori had to rationalize his paranoia because there was blood in the girls hair. It was black and flaking, but still there, and streaked across her shoulders, clearly red.

Lori ran a hand through her hair, looking up just as the young woman opened her eyes. When Lori noticed, she wasn't even fazed, she just stared at her impassively.

"So, is your name Minx, or is that even your bag," she asked slowly.

The girl just stared, her lips squeezed shut tightly; Lori frowned at the girls silence, wondering if perhaps she couldn't speak. Andrea's younger sister had been like that for some time, before she got confident and felt safer around the others in the group.

The girl didn't want to share anything, not with this stranger or any other. Silence had been a defense mechanism ever since she was a child and it still was.

Lori sighed and pushed herself up, slumping into Carl's bed, watching the stranger that was currently occupying her bed. They stared at each other for a long time, one set of eyes a dark brown, the other a brilliant gold. She was almost alien looking, with how tiny and thin she was, but with such big, golden eyes and dark hair.

"My name is Marcine," she whispered to Lori, voice hoarse from screaming and misuse.

Lori cocked her head to the right, her tired face glittering with something. "That's a strange name, why does it say Minx on your bag?"

Marcine closed her eyes, breathing in deeply through her nose before she looked to Lori again. "It was the name of. . .of a girl I knew."

Lori nodded slowly, a lump forming in her throat the way Marcine's eyes hollowed out. "Well." She cleared her throat slightly, leaning forward. "We agreed to keep you set up until you're healed. If you want to leave, no one will stop you, of course you are welcome to stay."

Marcine nodded the best she could laying on her side. "Thank you, I haven't ran into many kind people since the shit hit the fan."

Lori smiled and stood. "Well, we try our best." She crouched down beside Marcine and pulled a black plastic bag from under the bed. "I mean, the world just ended after all, no sense in being a horrible savage just yet."

Marcine chuckled at her words and clumsily pushed herself up into a seated position, listening rather than watching Lori search through the bag. She rotated her arms a few times, finding the muscles sore and tired, her neck and spine cracking as she moved around. Marcine didn't realize how long it had been since she had actually slept; her sore muscles and aching bones felt like they were in shock from actually being able to rest.

How had she managed to stay alive? Survival instincts must have been going on over-drive.

She looked to Lori when the woman made a small noise and saw her holding a can of peaches. She tossed it into the air and then caught it, twisting the top off before she handed it to Marcine.

"Here." Lori rummaged around for a plastic fork that had settled in the bottom of the bag. "You need to eat something."

Marcine smiled slightly and took the fork offered to her. "Thank you," she whispered, sliding the first slice into her mouth.

"No problem, want me to go tell your saviors that you're awake?"

Marcine noted the concern in Lori's voice, pausing in her eating. "You don't seem to want to, but I would like to know who we're talking about that is making you so nervous."

Lori looked out of the tent, wringing her shaking hands, bouncing on her heels slightly. "I don't want to go near them, they're not exactly good people."

"And who said I was a good person? You're talking to me." Marcine pointed at her with her fork, sliding another peach into her mouth. "Now come on, who we talkin' bout, what makes them so bad?"

Lori sighed and settled herself on the floor of the tent, knees pointed up. "The Dixons. . .they're rednecks, I guess. I mean, them being mountain boys doesn't mean that makes them bad guys, but it's just. . .a vibe, ya know?"

Marcine snorted. "You make it sound like they're murders."

Silence filled the tent and Marcine looked to meet Lori's eyes. She had this look of fear, her hands still wringing like she was trying to start a fire between them. She was shaking her head softly and then reached back to scratch at the back of her neck. There was something wrong with this picture, something so scared in her posture that it made Marcine. . .curious.

Eventually, Lori sighed and reached back, ruffling her hair as she shrugged. "I guess you're right, it's just. . ." she trailed off for a moment, watching something outside of the tent. "They're two brothers, one older, one younger. Merle, the oldest, is still on heavy drugs even now and the younger, Daryl, he just. . .he doesn't seem right, ya know? You used to see those men, on the streets, with the stare like a jungle cat?"

Marcine frowned, but felt a little more energized by the sugar in the peaches. "Sounds exactly like those strangers our mothers told us to stay away from."

The look in Lori's eyes said she felt the exact same way.

Marcine figured Lori was a house wife, one that went to little league games or ballet classes and hoped their child would become some super star but didn't push them too hard. She seemed like she didn't know how to handle those rough mean outside the tent, the type of woman that would grab onto her husband's arm when she saw a black guy coming towards them on the street.

Lori sighed and pulled herself up to her feet, dusting off the back of her jeans. "Well, I have laundry to finish. I just wanted to make sure Shane didn't pester you, he has a habit of being annoying."

Marcine chuckled and tried to stand on shaky, twig-like legs but they almost gave out from under her and she swayed, Lori managing to catch her by her elbow before she could hit the floor of the tent. "Thanks," Marcine muttered, pulling her arm back towards her chest.

She didn't mean to sound rude, Marcine just wasn't that big on human contact, never had been even before people had become savages. She would revert back to herself when she got to feeling better, when she got back to feeling like herself.

She didn't think she could stay here long, she didn't like the feeling she got. All the feelings she got. Like she had to watch her step. Like there were so many eyes just waiting for her to fuck up.

But she also didn't like the feeling of normalcy.

Of course, it would be nice, to have things back to how they were, but here, people were spotless. They laughed and played, she saw kids doing schoolwork for God's sake. It was like they were on a camping trip, and everything would be fine over the weekend. They needed reality, if this went on too long. . .the reality would just crash down and crush them all.

Marcine stood in the same spot for quite some time, until everyone stopped peeking at her, waiting. She noticed two tents way off, almost invisible behind the bushes, but there was a fire leaking smoke up into the air between the leaves. They were far across the dust from the cluster of tents, so perhaps that was where her saviors were camping?

Marcine looked around as she walked, heading for the tents to say her thanks. The closer she got, she realized that there was only one tent, really. The other was more of a sheet strung between two hefty sticks stuck in the ground. Someone liked to live upon the lap of luxury and the other didn't give a shit.

That made her want to laugh, sort of, because they were both so starkly different just upon appearance.

She looked around again and then bent at the waist slightly, tucking her loose hair back to see into one of the tents. The sheet was empty but there was a sleeping bag and a black bag inside the tent. Someone had been here recently, with the cigarette still smoking inside the ashtray beside the sleeping bag.

She jumped and screamed when she felt thick fingers wrap around her hip bones.

She twisted around, falling onto the black dirt and looking towards the other side of camp. There were a few men jumping up, coming to her aid like she was being attacked. She swallowed and looked back up at the man that had grabbed her and whimpers, pushing herself back in the dirt to put as much distance between themselves as possible.

He was leering down at her, one hand running over his beer gut and the other curling and uncurling from a fist at his side. He was wearing tan pants that had holes and blood stains in a few areas; Marcine wondered if it was Walker or human blood. He was old, that much was obvious from the lack of gray hair and the wrinkles at the edge of his eyes, the slight sag in his neck. He wore a vest and a black shirt underneath, his farmers tan on full view.

This was Merle.

It just had to be.

"Well well well," he leered, teeth abused. "Look who woke up while we was gone."

Marcine whimpered again. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean t-"

"Back off Merle." A gruff voice came from behind the older man. "Moron."

Merle looked annoyed when the younger man, assumed to be Daryl, pushed past him, sharp and icy eyes flashing over Marcine before sending a glare to the men that were waiting, wanting to jump in but not really knowing what to do. He looked back down at Marcine, who was staring up at him with wide, fearful, eyes. His hair was short and a dark brown, close to blonde at the edges, but the faint stubble on his chin was dark with blonde patches.

She watched his tongue snake out and slide over his bottom lip, making her eyes blur for a moment.

"Get yer ass up an' go on," he growled, jerking his chin at her. "Don' feel like dealin with these jackasses right now," he grunted, nudging Marcine's leg out of the way so he could get into his tent.

A wide hand grabbed onto her elbow and jerked her to her feet. She looked up with slightly traumatized eyes at Shane, who was leveling a glare at Merle. But Merle only leered back, tongue sticking out slightly from the corner of his mouth. Marcine quivered when Shane began to drag her back to the other side of the grounds, eyes still locked with Merle's as he grinned after her.

He made her sick with that look, the one that told her he wouldn't leave it like this.

She found her feet at some point and pulled herself out of Shane's grip, walking behind him for a moment before she collapsed halfway back to camp. She braced her hands flat against the ground, a few tears slipping out into the dirt as she shook, still in fear of that man behind her. If that's what you wanted to call him, he seemed more like the devil and Daryl. . .she didn't know what to think about him, so she didn't give him a second thought.

She lifted her hands up and looked at her shaking palms, breathing out slowly between her teeth. That had rattled her, he had just scared her so bad. . .

She saw two pairs of shoes enter the edges of her vision and looked up through clouded eyes to the two women above her. One was a kind eyed young blonde and the other was a woman that appeared older than she probably was, her worn face and gray hair making her seem sort of alien-like. They smiled at her and offered her their hands, which she took gratefully and let them usher her to a log they had rolled up to one of the low burning fires. The men were scattered, but the majority of them were near the R.V.; only the women huddled around her, like they were a football team.

Any other time, Marcine would have chuckled at the thought, but right now she just wanted to curl up and hide.

"Why the hell did you go over there," one of the two blondes asked, worry lines around her mouth and eyes.

"Andrea." The younger blonde scolded.

Andrea looked offended. "What? I was just wondering, jeez." She threw her hands in the air a little and slumped down onto one of the logs.

The young blonde sighed and turned back to Marcine with her kind smile. "Sorry about Andrea, she's rude. My names Amy."

"Carol," the gray haired woman muttered.

"My name's Jacqui sweetheart." A pleasant black woman introduced herself, her image sharp.

Marcine smiled gently. "My name is Marcine."

"So what were you doing over there anyway," Amy asked, leaning forward a little to poke at the fire in front of her.

Marcine tucked a long strand of black behind her left ear. "I went to thank them," she muttered. "Guess that was a bad idea."

"Well yeah, they're not people anyone needs around really. Shane keeps them around because none of us know jack about surviving." Jacqui paused to scratch at her throat. "They're hunters., they bring in a lot of food when they go out. Well, Daryl does, Merle is basically useless."

Marcine stared at the embers of the fire, bright eyes lost in her thoughts. She should have listened to Lori's weak warning, they weren't good people. She should have just ignored it, but she couldn't help but be polite, especially considering she knows she could have died if they hadn't found her when they did.

It was just the right thing to do, to thank them , even these days and Marcine needed to be on everyone's good side if she was going to stay here for more than a minute. And she meant everyone's goodside. Even those assholes. Now, Marcine was slightly terrified of this camp, because of Merle. Those two, meaning Merle mostly, were dangerous. Maybe not the way she was thinking, but Merle had scared her enough that her mind could convince her they were capable of anything.

And he didn't even really do anything.

"Well it doesn't matter to me," Marcine muttered, straightening her back. "I'm leaving soon."

The woman looked to her in concern. "Why?" Andrea asked, still looking like she was sulking.

Marcine shrugged, looking over her shoulder to the men. Shane and a heavy black man were hunched over a map that was laid out across a Jeep's hood. A young Asian man came up to them, looking so young and curious. There was an old man and one in a jumpsuit working on the engine to the R.V. – Marcine made a mental note to try and help them with that, she knew a few things about cars and the like.

She licked her lips and then looked to the brothers, that were now huddled around their fire. Daryl appeared to be scolding Merle, but he just laughed and waved him off, pulling something out of a large plastic baggie at his feet.

She swallowed and turned back to the women, noting the air of concern. The way they looked at her made her feel like a child that didn't know how to do anything.

"I just. . .I don't want to be a burden," she muttered, lying.

Amy and Jacqui laughed. "Oh honey, trust us, you won't be a bother." Jacqui pat Marcine's knee. "We have plenty of food and supplies. You're fine, stay. You need it."

Marcine looked down at herself, noting the way her clothes were sagging and sighed, wrapping her arms around herself.


"Yer an idiot," Daryl muttered to his brother, placing an open can of beans on their tiny fire.

Merle laughed and struck his lighter, placing the end of a glass pipe between his lips. In ten seconds flat his pupils dilated to the point where there was none of that crisp green color left, only black. He blinked a few times, swaying in his seat before he shook his head. The pipe slipped from his fingers and dropped back into the bag while Merle rolled his head around on his shoulders.

"She a fine piece of ass," Merle muttered, lost in a drug haze as he saw her at the other camp.

Daryl kept his head down, eyes flashing towards her where she sat in the gaggle of women. She looked lost, like a child on their first day of school. She was nothing but a skeleton to him, a shadow of a former life. But he could see it, the strange potential coiled in her arms and legs. She was like a snake waiting to strike, all tight muscle and fear.

Daryl snorted lowly to himself and nudged the can around.

"Stay away from 'er, Merle.' He warned. "Don' need ya getting us kicked outta here."

Merle looked back to his brother, hating how he was such like a whipped dog at the moment. "Oh please lil brother." he leaned forward onto his knees, earning a glare from under Daryl's brow. "Know you would like to have 'er over here, bent back over th' way she were."

Daryl growled. "I said shut up," he quipped.

And Merle finally did as he told while Daryl pushed around beans. He swallowed slowly and looked up then, catching her eyes. She was staring at him with a plain look on her face. No hatred, no sneer, no fear. She was zoned out, probably not even really looking at him. He rubbed at his bottom lip, eyes sparking over her image.

She would do. . .she would do just fine.


R&R please! Isn't much different from the other chapter in The Divide, but I fixed so many mistakes and added a lot of stuff, so here ya go.