Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or any of the characters associated with the franchise.

I find the map and draw a straight line,

Over rivers, farms, and state lines

The distance from 'here' to where you'd be

It's only finger-lengths that I see.

- Snow Patrol. Set Fire to the Third Bar.

-TWD-

If Cal was truly honest with herself she wished that she'd started out with a better plan. A plan that was 100% fool proof with how to deal with the end of the world.

See every one thinks that they're prepared for the end. You watch all those horror films and read all those books and you think that you can survive, that you'd be prepared to deal with the crap that gets thrown your way. The truth is, no one ever is. No one actually plans for this kind of shit to happen but Cal wishes that she had. Or at the very least had a plan that was a little more solid than just getting away.

At first that had been a good plan for that plan had ultimately led her away from Atlanta and away from the dead but it was also that very same plan that had lead her onto the I-85. The I-85 however had turned out to be nothing more than a graveyard full of cars and biters. Biters who were hell bent on making her their next meal. So, like most of her plans, she'd adapted, turned tail and legged it out of there. Leading her to where she was right now; that being a sweaty, doubled over mess who was desperately trying to catch her breath from out running another biter. All the while trying not to pass out from sheer exhaustion in the process.

See, that was a much better plan. She wheezes out a laugh at that little voice in her head.

She glances up, breathing deeply. Glad that she had finally stopped wheezing. Notices what appears to be a faint trail of smoke drifting skywards from some place high in the hills surrounding her. She shields her eyes and tries to get a better view of where the smoke is coming from but can't quite can an exact fix. It could be a camp, she thinks and then snorts out loud. Could be a camp? It's not like biters had suddenly learnt how to start fires.

She pulls out her water bottle, taking a small sip. It's not enough to quench her thirst but she has to ration her water the best she can. Tries to think of the best thing to do. A camp. A camp meant people, shelter and more importantly food and water. She knows she's running low on provisions. The food would last a couple of days at best, her water however. She needs to think wiping the sweat from her brow. The sun is already fierce and it's barely even midday.

She could ask if they had anything going spare and if there wasn't, maybe a spot to bunk down for the night without having to worry about dangers lurking in the dark. She knows she's tired, no she's worn out. Tiredness led to mistakes. She pauses undecided whether she should check the camp out or keep on going.

Yeah but Cal remember, a camp doesn't mean safety. You don't know what kinda people these are. You know what happened in Atlanta. She frowns at that wayward thought.

Since Atlanta, ever since that fateful decision of hers to go to the 'safe zone' and the cluster fuck that's had turned out to be. Cal had begun doubting herself and her decisions. Questioning every little thought that entered her head.

This camp could be a good thing though she reasons with herself. If she can stay, even if it were just for the night, she could clear her head before moving on. A good night sleep can make all the difference. She's made her decision but erring on the side of caution decides to scout on ahead and check it out from the cover of the trees. If she didn't like what she saw, she could always turn around and carry on and no one would be the wiser she had ever been there.

The smoke is coming from a remote spot tucked so far out of sight far and away from the main road that it's strategic in it's position. Setting up a camp this far back had been well thought out. Up high with a clear sight to the main road and surrounding areas, well covered with trees and near water if her ears weren't playing tricks on her. As she makes her approach she's certain that if it hadn't been for the smoke. Well she would have never have known that the camp had been there at all.

She can hear talking up ahead. Her hand is resting loosely over her knife as she follows the sound but not before tripping over wires and cans hidden in the brush that make such a goddamn awful racket. She automatically stops and cringes. Pauses, listening out for the sounds of the undead. The chatter that she can hear also abruptly stops and with that she takes a nervous breath before she stumbles out of the woods; sweaty and slightly disorientated.

At first she's not quite sure where to look, for there are people, cars every which way she turns.

A peculiar old RV is parked in the centre of camp; a good vantage point, she notes for it has a clear sight of the entirety of the camp. On top of the RV; an even more peculiar old man perched under a parasol if the Fisherman's hat and loud Hawaiian shirt is anything to go by. He's one of the first that she notices as he's watching her with those binoculars of his; watching as she trips over her own two feet. She's not sure who's more surprised him or her.

What is a surprise is to see a camp this size, one that was clearly well organised with a number of people milling about. She hadn't seen this many people since Atlanta.

She shakes her head to dislodge that train of thought. Looks around to gather her bearings as people begin to make their way over to her. There's warm pleasant smiles all around with a brief hint of weariness. She's under scrutiny. That much is for certain.

She glances down at her somewhat dishevelled state and chuckles. What a sight she was, hell if Grams could see her now she'd give her a clip around her ear and tell her to go wash up... disgrace that she was. "Hell, if I'da known I'd be in company I'da changed my shirt or somethin'." She coughs, her voice comes out scratchy from lack of use. Uses her best smile, hooks her thumbs in the front of her jean pockets and tries to not to let her nervousness show. She's sure she hears someone chuckle but can't quite pin point where it's at.

She's sweating and this time it has nothing to do with the heat.

She finds herself becoming momentarily distracted by the laughter of kids as they run past playing tag. It's been a while since she's seen one. Kids that is. Kids that were genuinely happy and healthy and alive. Never mind the four who are smiling and laughing and playing like kids should.

She watches them for a moment, lost in thought as she imagines another little girl with brown hair in messy pigtails, large beaming gap toothed smile, giggling as she chases after them. She turns back to the group and asks if they're taking people in.

"Just for a little while." She says, until she's rested and then she can be on her way. She has no tent, no other provisions than those she carried in her rucksack. A scraggy blanket that she'd scavenged along with her hunting knife and now empty water bottle. A few cans and packets of food and a change of clothes that were in desperate need of a wash and her diminished medical kit.

"You a doctor?" A question from one of the men in the group, she thinks it comes from the man holding the shot gun but isn't sure so she just nods her head.

"That's right." Doesn't miss the looks of relief on some of the faces within the group. Opens up her rucksack to pass out the food, has to quash down the small voice of hers telling her not to for she had fought for that food had almost lost an arm to get it. Passes over a can of peaches and beans, some chicken noodle soup and a shit load of beef jerky that's so tough she's surprised that she has any teeth left after eating it. Her hands still and her breath catches in her throat when she glances at the last remaining item at the bottom of her bag.

The almost mocking stare of the glassy button eyed bear peering back up at her.

She zips her bag up quickly; if the others notice her behaviour they don't say anything, after all everyone has a story to tell. "It's not much." She says handing the tins and packets over to the older grey haired woman who takes them from her with a shy hesitant smile.

"But it ain't nothin' either." The other brunette woman had replied in kind. Whether to the food or her being a doctor she isn't quite sure.

The older gentleman offers her the floor of his RV apologising all the while. It's fit to bursting as is but Cal doesn't complain. She's been on her own for a while now; camping outside with no one to talk to, no one to watch her back. She finds it strange to surrounded by so many people once again. For the time being though she counts her blessings, grateful to think that soon she'll have a roof over her head and the possibility of a warm meal in her belly.

Her stomach growls at the thought.

"The floor will be jus' fine. Thank you...?" She trails off sheepishly realising that she doesn't know his name.

"Dale Horvath." He offers her his hand to shake. Firm solid grip. He smiles, a smile that reminds her of her Papaw.

"Callie Olsen. You can call me Cal."

Getting settled in the RV she catches sight of her reflection in the glass of the window. Takes a while to recognise herself. Large, weary eyes, her matted hair is piled on top of her head in what a few weeks ago have been considered a fashionably messy bun. A few weeks ago. She pauses momentarily. A few weeks? Was that all it was? It had felt so much longer. Then again she thinks running for your life would do that to you.

Her features are drawn; the familiar 'v' creasing her brow, cheeks are hollowed, gaunt. She looks and feels tired. Far more tired than doing her residency had ever left her feeling. That kind of tired that you can feel deep in your bones. That kind of tired makes you ache. Her teeth tug on skin of her bottom lip whilst she ponders her current situation. This was a good thing right? Safety in numbers. She wants to feel at ease, she wants to feel safe but she isn't there just yet. She remembers feeling safe before and look how that had turned out.

But she wants to be. Oh, how she wants to feel safe again.

She jumps at the unexpected call of her name; the thin rubbery skin on her lip tears and with it the familiar taste of copper fills her mouth. There's a small tentative hand on her shoulder as Amy appears suddenly at her side.

"Hey, you ok?" Cal looks down at Amy. It was such an odd question to ask. Wasn't it. Or was that just her? Was she ok? Were any of them ever going to be ok again?

She feigns a smile and shrugs out a reply. It not an answer, she knows that but Cal's not quite sure that she can give her one. She's thankful that Amy doesn't push back instead offering to show her around the camp, to help get her bearings. Cal smiles and nods at the suggestion even though she can already feel the beginnings of an encroaching headache at the thought of it.

She quickly grabs her bag from the table and follows dutifully behind the young blonde. All the while watching Amy, watches how she walks, talks and interacts with others. If Cal had to guess she'd put herself a good 10 years older than her. The blonde is a sweet kid though and some small part of her can't help but marvel at the optimism that she still has.

It is here that Cal learns that Amy has an older sister (12 years to be exact) called Andrea who is doing a run to Atlanta. So far they've been gone for four days. It's the longest that they've been away from the main group and it doesn't take a genius to tell that behind that bright smile of Amy's, the younger sibling is worried.

Cal has to give Amy credit though, she's trying so hard to not show how worried she actually is but the way she keeps glancing over her shoulder towards the gravel road leading up to the quarry speaks volumes. As though the blonde teenager is hoping by her sheer will power alone that Andrea and the others would somehow magically appear.

Cal doesn't mention this, it's not her place and in all honesty if the shoe were on the other foot she'd be worried too. She'd only just made it out of Atlanta alive and whole; why would anyone, voluntarily that is, want to go back in? She keeps those thoughts to herself. The kid, was already worried enough, wouldn't do anyone good voicing those concerns out loud.

So she changes topic asks her if Dale's her father and Amy smiles and laughs but it's tinged with sadness and silence. No Dale isn't her father she reads into her expression. She doesn't know if her father is even alive … Cal says no more.

Next there's Lori and Carl Grimes. Mother and son, the brunette who had thanked her for her meagre offering of food earlier. Their eyes are haunted; tight lipped, worn out smiles. They're friendly enough though, smile as they walk past. Lori who asks her if she's settling in alright.

Shane Walsh, 'I'm in charge' ex-cop, not the father. "Carl's Daddy didn't make it." Is what Amy whispers to her as they move further away from the trio.

Cal glances back at Lori. Lori who's watching Carl doing his sums, Shane who's watching Lori. Not the Daddy, no, but there's a story there.

As though feeling eyes on them Shane looks up. Their eyes lock for a brief moment; the guarded almost defiant look makes Cal break eye contact. Whatever ongoing drama there was, she would steer well clear.

Next the Morales, a small family of four Miranda, Eliza, Louis. One of them is missing though. Javier their Father is in Atlanta.

Then there's Carol and Ed Peletier and their daughter Sophia. She watches Ed warily as he stalks around his family. She knows his type, had seen it all before in her line of work. Carol skittish, eyes downcast and Sophia younger than her years. Ed doesn't shake her hand when she offers it and a small part deep down inside of her is thankful for that.

Jim. A nod, they shake hands. He's stringing cans together and she asks him what he's doing. "Walker traps. They err, they get huh caught in these. Alerts the camp." Ah, so that's what she'd tripped over earlier. Smart thinking.

Jacqui, Glenn, T-Dog – are also on the run to Atlanta. There's a few more people but she doesn't quite catch all their names. Cal's finding this all so surreal, to be surrounded by this many people again. It doesn't feel real. She pinches the webbing between her thumb and forefinger. The sharp pain a reminder that it is.

"Finally there's the Dixon brothers." Amy motions over the other side of the camp in a somewhat dismissive manner.

"The Dixon's?" The question slips from her mouth unchecked before she can stop herself. It's been a long time since she'd heard that name spoken aloud that was. Thinking about it though she really shouldn't be surprised that Daryl or Merle would still be alive. Where Daryl went Merle was sure to follow.

'Ain't nobody can kill Merle Dixon lil girl. 'Cept ol' Merle himself.' He'd once proclaimed blowing smoke rings into her face. High as a kite and laughing as always.

Trust her that to run into him at the end of the world. She must have been an awful person in a previous life to have this much shitty luck.

"Yeah, Merle, Daryl and Jed." At that final name Cal stops walking, turns so suddenly that Amy, not paying attention stumbles into her. The sun is in Cal's eyes blinding her and there's that god awful lump in her throat that makes it difficult to swallow. Her skin feels clammy; her gut clenching painfully.

"Jed?" She asks as Amy nods slowly, the blonde confused at the sudden interest. Cal doesn't care though she just needs to know that Jed. That this Jed and her Jed are one and the same. They have to be. They just have to. She doesn't believe in coincidences.

"6'4, my age, muscular build, brown hair, green eyes?" For a moment she think's she's in a dream and has to fight off the urge to pinch herself again.

"Yeah that's right. You know him or something?"

"Or somethin'." She sees the questioning look on the younger girls face. Cal pinches the bridge of her nose. "His name's Olsen not Dixon. He's my brother."

She finds that's she's been left to her own devices for the time being and with it she begins wondering around the camp, thinking. Thinks about her brother and how he'd be when they see each other. She can't quite picture a happy reunion but the thought is nice whilst it lasts.

Once upon a time they had been close. They were fraternal twins so that close bond well it was to be expected. A long time ago Cal didn't think that their bond would ever be broken, but after what had happened with Cash.

In their formative teenage years; they had grown apart like siblings were prone to do. Cal had thrown herself into her studies and Jed had followed Cash's footsteps and started to follow Merle round like a lost sheep. Cal had never quite seen the attraction. Where Merle went Jed would follow like he was Merle's goddamn personal shadow. She'd asked her Mama once before she'd gotten sick, before her Daddy had gotten mean, why? Why did Jed like Merle? Why didn't Jed talk to her no more? Her Mama said it was because Merle reminded Jed of Cash but back then she couldn't see it. Or maybe she had refused to see it.

Cash was Cash plain and simple. He was their eldest brother and growing up he had been their whole world. Cash was kind and good and decent. He was everything Merle wasn't.

Cal breaks from her train of thought seemingly having found herself stopping just short of the Dixon's camp. It's set a fair ways away from the others of this rag tag group, nothing unusual about it and when she comes to think about it, it's not that much as a surprise. The Dixons never did like to get too acquainted with other people.

From what she's been able to gather the camp had been at the quarry for around two weeks now and the Dixon's plus Jed have been here for a week if not more.

Cal's surprised. Surprised that Merle hasn't robbed them blind yet. She had to bite her thumbnail to avoid saying that aloud though.

She could see from Shane's earlier expression that he didn't like them; not one iota. Daryl was on a hunt. Merle and Jed with the group in Atlanta. Doesn't like her either from the way he's keeping an eye on her right now. He's sat up top the RV, eyes tracking her every movement, shot gun propped at his side. She's not sure what he thinks she's going to do but his attitude towards her was now slightly more frosty than it had been at their first introductions. Thinking about it, his attitude had pretty much changed when he'd been informed as to how she was related to Jed. She can only assume that they'd had a run in at some point.

She wanders idly down to the waters edge, places her unzipped rucksack to the left of her. She pulls out the teddy hidden at the bottom of her bag. Runs a finger over the face, feels the matted fur and the threadbare patches. The nose has long since gone and the stitching of where his mouth used to be had long since unravelled.

He really is a sorry looking thing. He should have been thrown away a long time ago. But she can't. She made a promise to Lottie that she would always look after him.

She swallows down the sadness when she thinks about Lottie. Her loud sigh disturbs the quiet. There's a peacefulness here she thinks glancing across the water with the small tattered bear still held firmly in her hand.

Peaceful.

That is until the sound of a car alarm echoing around the hills breaks her from her train of thought and sends people running.