Title: Middle of Nowhere
Author: PlasticCandy
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Rating: Mature readers
Warnings: violence, language, possible sexual situations
Summary: The team reaches the CDC, but things never go as planned, do they? Another straggler joins the team.
Notes: A few things bugged me when they got to this part in the series, and I'm pretty sure I made it evident in the first chapter. Long chapter this time. Replies to reviews are at the bottom of the chapter.
Disclaimer: The Walking Dead and its characters don't belong to me. They belong to their rightful owners

Installment 2 - In which Amanda arrives home

Amanda is curled against the door of the truck, trying to keep her distance from Daryl while at the same time trying to keep the center of her back from touching anything. So far she's not having a lot of luck. Every bump they hit she feels deep in her bones, and she wonders if she hasn't broken anything.

She struggles to stay awake. On top of her injuries to her back, arms, and legs, she probably has a concussion, and she knows the first rule of Concussion 101: don't fall asleep.

It seems like forever until they stop, pulled over on the side of the road with the map spread out over the hood of the RV. Shane (Amanda cheers herself for remembering names) is pointing at something furiously, jabbing his finger against the map so hard she wonders why he hasn't broken it or at least jammed it. Rick is arguing with him in a way that Amanda will soon realize is how he always is: calm, rational. The older man, Dale, is standing between them, mediating.

Amanda approaches, gently tapping Dale's shoulder. When he turns, she motions towards the map, and he steps aside. She leans over the map, trying to determine where they are with nothing but trees surrounding them.

"Where the hell are we?"

Rick points at the map, giving her a general area. She searches for a few more minutes, then says, "What's the problem?"

"We don't have enough fuel to get to Fort Benning, and we can't decide where to stop for the night."

"We stop here." Shane jabs at the map again, and Amanda leans sideways to avoid his hand. "It's the only safe place-"

"Safe if you want to be in the middle of nowhere with no supplies." Amanda brushes his hand away and examines the map again, then looks at the sky towards the sun.

"We can go here." She jabs at a spot, just off I-85, that looks like its in the middle of nowhere.

"What's there?"

"My house."

She doesn't miss the glances that Shane and Rick exchange, and she sighs. "Okay, look. It's huge. Something like nine bedrooms, and quite a few bathrooms, too. It's a mansion, it's gated, it's walled, and it's safe. No trees on property, there's access to a lake and a stream, and it's perfectly convenient. Can we make it there?"

Rick and Shane lean over and examine where she's pointing. She can practically see the gears turning in their heads, and she steps back and allows them to do the mental calculations to see if they have enough fuel to get there.

"I think it's a good idea." Rick nods, tapping his chin. "Anything else around."

"Small little town here," she approaches and points at the map again, not far from where she'd pointed for her house. "We're talking, one road, two stop-lights, maybe a couple of stop signs. It's where my folks went for post and groceries."

"Seriously? They still have places like that?"

Glenn, that little Asian that had a massive hangover at breakfast this morning, seems to have gotten over said hangover, and he's peeking over Amanda's shoulder.

"Yes, City Boy. They have places like that." Amanda is feeling more relaxed, despite the pain she feels in her back. She makes a mental note to take a long shower if the plumbing still works at her house.

"Who's to say that it hasn't been overrun with looters? Or that someone's broken in-"

"My daddy wouldn't give up that house unless he was dead." Amanda doesn't want to think about this, but she says it anyway. "If that's the case, well, then it's my house and I want it back."

Rick sighs, glances at Shane. "Yes?"

"It's a big risk, Rick. The kids-"

"If we put the kids in the furthest vehicle, with T-Dog, Lori, and Carol, I think it'll be okay." Rick is begging for Shane to listen to him without being such a pain in the ass and arguing over every little detail.

"Look, if my daddy's still alive, there's food, shelter in it for all of you. Beds, too."

Shane looks like he's going to give in, then he sighs and crosses his arms. "Alright."

Rick gathers everyone, and Amanda wanders away while he explains where they're going and what they're doing. Someone has to keep watch, she thinks, clamboring onto the roof of the RV. She stretches out, enjoying the heat of the sun on her back, enjoying the greenhouse effect her jacket seems to be doing. It's relaxing for her, and she struggles to stay awake in the warm Georgia sun.

There's nothing coming for miles, either down the road or from the woods, and she sits up and kneels to get a better perspective and to be able to move quicker if she needs to. She doesn't have her weapons, in particular her sniper rifle, so the prone position does her no good anyway, she reasons.

When it looks like the group below are breaking up, the children heading off with Lori and Carol towards the van behind the RV, Amanda jumps down.

"You're going to need me in the front with you," she says. "The turn-off for the house is kind of hard to miss."

Rick nods, and Glenn moves to the back of the RV to let Amanda sit up front.

"How are you feeling?"

Amanda starts, then turns. Dale smiles at her, that kindly smile that Amanda remembers seeing on her grandparents before they passed years ago.

"Sore." She glances at the side of the RV, looking for any dents she might have left when she collided with it. There's a dent, but it's hardly noticible, although she does notice a smear of dried blood that she isn't sure is hers. "Your RV packs a punch."

Dale, to his credit, laughs. "How was the ride with Daryl?"

Amanda blinks at the cautious tone his voice takes, and she watches him look around. "Very quiet," she says, then turns to climb into the RV's cab. She takes the map from Glenn and studies it, then sighs and sets it aside. She knows these roads, these highways. She grew up here.

She hears engines revving behind her, and she glances in the rear-view mirror. Rick pulls away from the side of the road, and she watches as the caravan follows, one vehicle at a time, until they're moving at a fairly good pace.

Evening is coming quickly, and she's a little worried they won't make it before nightfall, but she points at the exit at long last and Rick turns off the freeway. She points which way to turn, then tells him to slow once they're on a narrow two-lane road.

"Turn's up ahead. You're going to miss it if you don't slow down."

Rick slows carefully, then Amanda points to his left.

"There, see it? That dirt road."

"That takes us through the woods."

"Fifty feet," she scoffs, though she knows it's a gamble. She gets on the radio. "Roll your windows up, gang."

She follows her own advice, closing herself in and leaning forward in her seat. She's praying the gates are open, or at least unlocked, because she doesn't have her keys with her.

Rick makes the turn, and she unbuckles her seatbelt, ready to jump out as soon as he slows a little more, to open the gate.

"Amanda-"

"There! Stop the RV." She's out and running, and Glenn jumps into the seat she vacates and slams the door behind her. The gate is, fortunately, unlocked, although the chain has been wound through it several times. She struggles for a minute, finally untangling the mess and pushing the gates open.

She waves them all through, then closes the gate behind them.

"Who's there?"

The familiar voice calling down from the house sends a flood of relief through her, and she's running now, her boots digging into the soft ground and propelling her forward even faster.

"Daddy!" She's yelling now, flying past the vehicles and the people getting out of them. She narrowly avoids crashing into Glenn, but then she's beyond them all and flying towards the house, stumbling each time she hits a rock or a hole in the dirt, but she picks herself up and continues up the hill.

She can see him, barely, illuminated from behind by the glow of the fire from the house.

"Amanda?"

Then she's right in front of him, skidding to a stop and out of breath. She puts her hands on her knees, takes deep breaths.

"Amanda, what the hell is going on?" He peers behind her, looking for something. "Who are all these people? And where's your sister?"

"Daddy," she says, and she climbs the stairs, one at a time, comes to a stop next to him. "Angie didn't make it."

"What?"

"Angie's dead, Dad. For a month."

It takes him a minute to register this, but he turns to her finally. "And that lousy son-in-law of mine?"

"Dead. He, uh... The CDC blew up. He stayed behind."

Her father takes a deep breath, lets it out. She knows he doesn't show emotion, goes behind closed doors to cry and mourn, and she knows that's exactly what he'll do now.

"Daddy, could we talk for a minute, please?"

"More bad news?"

"No, I just... These people? They need a place to stay."

"Amanda-"

"No, listen. They'll pull their own weight. Help out. Please."

He sighs, nods, and wraps an arm around her shoulder. "Let me go make introductions and bring them in. You go find your mother and see about getting the beds set up."

Amanda grins, wraps her arms around him and kisses his cheek. "Thanks, Daddy."

Her mother is inside, sitting in a comfy-looking chair with a blanket over her legs. She smiles as Amanda enters, and as Amanda comes in she tosses the blanket aside and wraps Amanda in her arms.

"Hey, Mama."

Amanda's mother is short, with blonde curly hair and bright blue eyes. Amanda takes a step back to look at her, and is pleased to see that her mother looks clean. She looks down, comparing her rather dirty clothes with her mother's pristine ones, and blushes.

"How are you, dear? Come sit."

"Can't, Mama." She shakes her head. "We need to get all the beds and cots ready we can."

"Why, dear? What's going on?"

Amanda makes quick work of explaining, and her mother jumps into action. They spend the next few minutes pulling linens out of the closets, and setting them on beds. When the campers come in, dragging duffle bags and whatever they have left over after the CDC went nuclear, Amanda points them to rooms. She tries her best to keep families together, and brings in cots for the kids.

"The plumbing works, but it's all cold water," her mother explains when someone asks about a shower. "This house was built on a well system, and it hasn't failed us yet. But you can pump water in and heat it over the fire. Take a nice hot bath."

Amanda groans at the thought. Then another thought occurs to her, and she sighs, sits on the nearest couch and ignores her mother's dirty look. "Mama, do you have any of my clothes here? I, uh... Mine were lost in the fire at the CDC."

"What fire, hon?" Her mother turns and heads up to the attic, and Amanda grins. "There was a fire? Did your sister make it out okay?"

The attic is warm despite the cool chill in the night air, and Amanda can't breathe. She helps her mom dig through boxes, looks for her old clothes, and tries to come up with a suitable answer.

"Angie died, mom. A month ago. She was bit, she turned."

"Turned?" Her mother gives her an incredulous look. "You make it sound like she's a vampire now or something. It's silly."

Amanda blushes. "She didn't make it. Neither did Edwin."

Her mother sighs, and Amanda can see the tears falling. There's a lot of heartache in the house now, and Amanda is almost sorry she came home.

"We were worried about you. Both of you. The car won't start anymore. It's out of gas and we couldn't get anymore and get to you."

"Trust me, Mom, you're way safer here." Amanda holds up a box in success. "I think these'll work."

"But Amanda, your sister-"

"Gave her body to science before the end. She did what she wanted. You should be proud." Amanda can't hide the bitterness in her voice, but her mother doesn't seem to notice; or if she does, she doesn't care.

"I'm always proud of both of you." Her mother leads the way downstairs.

Amanda is alone again, but she enjoys hearing the bustling halls. The third floor is open, and she can hear people calling back and forth, looking for soap or anything that would be useful in taking a bath. Downstairs, she can see the first pots of water on the fire, and she sighs, sits on her box to think.

"Help you?"

Amanda looks up. Daryl is staring down at her, with what she thinks is an amused expression on his face.

"No, I just... I'm good." She offers a smile, a weak one, but a smile, and picks up her box. "Just thinking."

He shrugs, and she pauses, hefts the box to her hip. "You want me to have them bring some water up for you? The tubs are pretty nice."

There's a pause, and Amanda wonders if he's going to answer her. "Yeah, that's be good."

She nods, heads downstairs to ask the ladies to put on another pot of water for the tubs, and sets her box on the counter in the kitchen. She's trying to find an empty room to sleep in, since she's given her actual room to Carol and Sophia. Some of them had doubled up, since there were definitely more people than were rooms, and she didn't think that anyone had any extra room to spare.

Amanda resigns herself to sleeping in the attic.

"You alright?"

Amanda looks around, smiles at Andrea. "Yeah, I'm okay. Figuring out where to sleep tonight is all." She sighs, sinks into a chair at the dining table. "Can I ask you a favor?"

Andrea sits.

"I need someone to look at my back. I hit the RV pretty hard in the explosion, and I'm pretty sure I'm banged up."

"Sure, no problem. You want to do this now?"

"Yeah. Just in case there's any blood or anything, we can get it cleaned up and bandaged and I'll be on my way so you guys can sleep."

"Do you not sleep? I noticed you were awake this morning-"

"I fell asleep at the computer." Amanda digs through her box and comes up sucessfully with a new t-shirt. "I don't sleep normal hours. We were underground far too long for that." She sets the shirt aside and digs for some pants.

"What does being underground have to do with anything?"

"It's really complicated, but basically the sight of light outside, the sun rising and falling, keeps your body on a circadian rhythm of about 24 hours. Without it, our bodies lose track of time, forget to tell us we're tired. Some say that our bodies fall to a rhythm based on 25-hour days instead of 24, but I don't believe that."

Amanda gives up on her search for a pair of pants and turns to her. "Ready?"

Andrea nods and follows Amanda to the nearest bathroom. The door is open, so she slips inside, then thinks about it and digs around for a candle.

"Mom keeps candles everywhere with matches and lighters and everything. Power goes out a lot around here."

She comes up successful with a candle that smells suspiciously like fake strawberry, and lights it.

Andrea shuts the door and helps Amanda tug the jacket off her shoulders. Amanda examines it, trying to determine whether it's going to need any patching, or if she can get by on a jacket that has a few holes. She's grateful that it's a heavy-duty material, and she silently thanks the military for it.

Her shirt is next, and then her bra, and she turns her back to Andrea.

"How bad is it?"

"A couple of cuts and scrapes, but it looks like mostly brusing." She runs her hands over Amanda's ribs. "Hurt?"

"Not terribly."

"That's good, right?"

"Yeah. Means less potential for broken bones, which is always good."

Andrea looks her over, trying to see the bruising through the tattoos that decorate Amanda's back.

"You're pretty banged up, but you'll be okay in a few days."

Amanda nods, thanks her, and slides her bra back on, followed by the fresh t-shirt. It feels good against her skin, better than the cotton long sleeve she's been wearing for the past few days.

The house quiets down when everyone's asleep, and Amanda decides that she can't stand it. She heads up to the attic and opens a window, climbs out to the roof. Someone's there, standing at the edge of the house overlooking the huge back yard.

"Hey," she says, and he turns.

"Hey yourself."

Amanda approaches the edge of the roof and is careful not to look down. "I, uh, I didn't get a chance to thank you for pulling me out back at the CDC."

Daryl shrugs. "No problem."

"Can't sleep?"

"No. You?"

"Shouldn't be sleeping."

"'Cause of your head?"

She nods. "Yeah."

She is tired suddenly, so tired, and she sits at the edge of the roof, hoping the shingles don't decide at that moment that they no longer enjoy being tarred to the roof.

"Why can't you sleep?"

Daryl shrugs, sits next to her but not too close. "Just can't is all."

The night air is cool against her skin, and she shivers. Below, she can hear the crickets chirping in the grass, but all too soon that stops, too, leaving her in uncomfortable silence with Daryl.

After a while, he gets up and goes inside without a word, and Amanda waits for the sun to rise before she heads inside and down to the kitchen to dig up some food.

Review comments from chapter 1:

Fioras - thanks!

ErisandDysomia - I know. I was bothered by a couple of things in that episode; one was that Jenner was spouting off anatomy that he didn't know (the adrenal glands in particular), and the second was that exit scene. The frag grenade, the firing of the shotgun inside without ear protection and no one even says "ow"... I used a bit of artistic license and had Amanda type in a second code to override the computers. I only wish it were really that simple. lol

constantlylost - I'm glad you like my character's name! :)

TayaHearts - The writing style I'm using is new for me. It's not my normal one. Thanks for sticking around even though you don't like reading present tense. :)

Question for my readers:

Would it be easier for me to refer to Amanda as "Mandy" or something similar in the future? I know some people have difficulty with names that start with the same letter.

And if you're reading for the Daryl interaction, don't worry, it's coming. Next chapter or two, I promise.