My intention is to hit every episode and give Glenn's perspective. To accomplish this, I had to set up everything in this chapter at the camp, blindly. I made up names for the other campers. Consider this chapter's events happening during the "Days Gone Bye", 1st episode of the series. Later in here, Glenn makes mistakes because he can't see to write so it's intentional; I totally didn't get sidetracked watching the episodes while writing this.

EDIT: (Thanks to the reviewer, MJ, for telling me Morales' kids' names. Miranda is his wife, but there was another dark-skinned woman in the camp and that's who I named Olivia, just to clear up any confusion.)


I can't remember how I hitched a ride with Dale and the RV squad. My head spun like a bottle rocket for days and I saw through a thin film of fog for a majority of it.

I don't get it. I don't get any of this.

Was this the Rapture? Biological warfare? I read online that several terrorist groups from different nations in the Middle East, South America, and some lonely island in the Atlantic, or maybe the Phillipines, were naturally ticked at the rest of the world, fussing like toddlers over toys, screaming and throwing fists on the floor, and they threatened to dump bacteria on us. I hate politics. And caterpillars. My uncle took me fishing at a lake when I was ten, and a swarm of those squishy bugs jumped off the trees and attacked me. I swear! He keeps correcting me at family gatherings saying that it was a couple of caterpillars, but that's not how I see it. They crawled in my ears and I lost my hearing for two days. Best thing about it was not hearing my mom grump about the house and then she only fed me soup like my hearing would magically return because I gurgled soup.

Yeah... caterpillars in my ears. Almost as dumb as the dead coming back to life, right? My mother's soup would be tasty right about now instead of the bland, muddy liquid I'm eating for lunch. It was my own concoction since bothering people about food isn't my specialty. I hate drive thrus and the cashiers call me 'ma'am' through the speaker. Yeah, okay, so I always go inside to prove how manly I am. I guess that's what I'm trying to prove now as I sit on top of an RV under this red and white umbrella, all buck style looking over my territory. It's too hot up here, but my soup has gone cold and I like hot soup, even in the summer. That sucker will boil in this Georgia heat.

Dale, the old guy, just asked me to fetch water for the laundry tomorrow and said he would keep an eye on my soup because the kids here enjoy pulling pranks on the only Asian guy. Running errands is definitely my gold cup, and my 'thang', if you will. The women of the camp pinch my cheeks and say I'm the son they never had and that I'm the most handsome Oriental they've ever seen. Well, they don't exactly say that last part but I can see it on their faces, especially Olivia, the Hispanic chick with a bum leg whose grandmother took on the geeks and saved Olivia's life. That's what I call this walking dead phenomenon because assigning titles and cool phrases isn't my thing either.

The impatient old guy tapped me on the head with the butt of his rifle. I'll be back later, more than likely at dark and writing this by the fire while everybody sits moody and on their hands. I can't blame them.


I forgot to journal when I came back. Sorry. One of the nice kids, Eliza, needed help with her math work, and it was the prime opportunity to ask for another sleeping bag. She has Care Bears on the extra bag, but that doesn't bother me. I think her brother, Louis, pissed in my last one because a storm scared him one night and he went in the first tent he saw, which was mine oh joy of joys, and fell asleep. I forgave him but I still needed a dry bag and I have this fear of getting diseases. I mean, he's a kid, I know; I still don't know where he's been.

Geez, I can barely see to write with this campfire light so forgive any mstakes. I'm learnng everybodys names: there's Laurie, or it can be spilled Lori maybe, her kid Carl; Dale, of course, Shane, who is a cop and our unoffical leader, two country boys named Merle and Daryl Dixon that ask me all kinds of quetions about living in China and I say that the rice is good even though I was born and raised in America and there are other Asian countries other than China. Why bother explaining anything; Andrea and her younger sister Amy and they're really nice and more of the cultured ones here; then I think there's another country guy named Jim Bob and a pretty black lady, Jacky, or Jackie? T-Dog is a big black man, and he's really cool. I don't quite feel like an outsder with him here and not just because he's a minority too. He's quiet, like me except when you tick him off and Merle does a good job at that. When I get mad, I post on Facebook and play a video game. Here, I can't do either so I take it out on bugs. I hate confrontations.

Okay, I can see a little better now; I can count on Ed, a stubborn disgruntled guy, to defy everyone's orders and make the fire go higher. He doesn't like me; he doesn't like anyone, and I can tell he doesn't care for Carol, his wife, and barely for their daughter, Sophia. Sweet little Sophia. She stays with her mom mostly, but I make faces at her and get her to smile. She reminds me of my younger sister, except with less back-hands. Much less. Morales is a Hispanic guy and has his wife, Miranda, and two kids here, the ones I wrote about earlier: Eliza and Louis. When those kids and Carl get together, they're one sneaky tiny army. I'm cool with it because it keeps me on my toes and helps me forget that things are downright shitty. If memory serves me right, the rest of the group: Olivia, another husband and wife, an old guy who can't eat beans and gasses everyone when he does, and Tank, who is obsessed with hunting bears but is afraid of the geeks and birds.

We have an interesting dynamic here. Everybody can be uptight and loud, and I get that, but I have to leave sometimes. Recently I've been volunteering to scope Atlanta's streets and pick up supplies. It's kinda fun and a little lonely without all the jabbering from the crew and hearing only moans and shuffling from the geeks on the street. I've given some of them names because they're always around the same places everytime I go back: Cheetah, Dumbo, Charging Charlie, Frank Rabonwitz, and Lucille Ball. Of course I'm at a great distance and I can't look at them directly in the faces because of all the blood and guts. Blegh! Is that how you would spell it? Bleugh? Yuck!

Shane and Dale informed me just now that I'm going with Morales, Andrea, Jackie, and T-Dog into Atlanta tomorrow. I'm not sure about this? And now Merle is screaming that he wants to go, too. Thankfully, Daryl is out in the woods or it would be hell on earth on the trip there and back. I'd rather see Charging Charlie again. You never know who you'll meet in the big city.