Chapter 1: Atlanta

~Clary~

Don't make me out to be the hero, 'cause I ain't one. I'll warn you ahead of time. I'm not the hero. I'm far from it. I'm anything and everything, except a hero. I'm just a redneck with a crossbow. No, I'm more than a redneck with a crossbow. I'm a survivor. A survivor of this hell on earth. I'll do just about anything to stay alive, including putting the infected down. And I mean the bitten or the scratched, anyone infected with the virus. It's not the virus that kills you. It's the symptoms. The high fever. You'll get to where you're hotter than a furnace, to where you're burning up, to where you're begging for death. And then, you get your wish. You die. But you don't stay dead long. No, you come back. You come back as one of them. The undead. Or, as we call them, walkers.

Daryl, my older brother, keeps his hand around my wrist, keeping me close to him as we run from the things. They look like people, but there is no way in hell they are. "Daryl! Clary! You okay?" Jess, our uncle, calls as we approached.

We stop short seeing Will, our father, lying on the ground, his stomach torn open. His inside are on the outside. Even though I know that there's nothing we can do, I can't let the bastard die. "Dad," Daryl says, thinking the same thing. "Dad no." He looks at Jess. "We can, we could—"

"Daryl," Jess says. "He's too busted up. Nothing can be done now except ease his suffering."

Daryl looks over at me when he realizes what it means, standing. "Don't watch, Clars."

I'm frozen in shock, only able to watch, as Daryl cocks his gun. He aims it at Will's head, but he can't pull the trigger. Jess takes the gun from him, shaking his head at his unwillingness to kill the man that caused the both of us so much pain. Daryl puts his arms around me, blocking my view. I can hear it, though. "Sorry, brother," Jess says.

He fires.

We learned pretty quick that the way to kill them was the brain. That's all it took. Destroy the brain. Easier said than done, in all honesty.

As we drive away, I look at Jess, who sits beside me. I nudge Daryl's arm, and he glances over, looking towards Jess. "You're hurt," he says, seeing the mark on his arm.

"I'm fine," Jess says. "One of those assholes bit me. Can you believe it? Crazy son of a bitch."

"You sure?" Daryl inquires, and he glares at the two of us, silently telling him to shut the hell up. I flinch away, having seen that look on my father before. Daryl looks down at me, and he glares at Jess when he sees me flinching away from him. About an hour later, we pull over to see what we have in the way of supplies. We decide to split up, each looking for supplies. "Hey, be careful," Daryl says as we break off. "It's nearly dark. If you can't see more than twenty feet in front of you, come back."

I give him a nod, and we split up. I find mostly food, and come back when I fill a bag. I set it in Daryl's truck bed, and see Jess on his way over. I hear growling, and look around for the undead, what I've come to call walkers, but I see none. Maybe I'm hearing things. I turn just as Jess arrives, only to find that he's the walker I heard. I can't help but let out a scream as he lunges for me. I fall on my back, trying to hold Jess off. Not Jess, a walker, I remind myself. I scream for my brother, struggling against the walker. "Help me, Daryl!"

Jess is pulled off of me, and I see Daryl drive a knife into his brain. I push myself up, shaking. "You okay?" Daryl inquires, kneeling next to me.

I nod, too terrified to speak.

"You bit?" he asks. "Scratched? Hurt?"

I shake my head. Daryl pulls me to my feet, then pulls his knife out of Jess' head. "C'mon," he says. "Let's go."

We climb into the truck, just the two of us, traveling north. Thanks to Jess, we learn not to get bit. That was how you got infected. Jess was bit when he was killing what I can only describe as the undead. They're the walking dead. Walkers.

Daryl pulls over after driving for about an hour. I glance at the time on the clock. It says it's 9:30 PM. "Get some sleep," Daryl says, shutting the truck off. "I'll take first watch."

I curl up beside him, and he says, "Angels are watching over you, Clary."

I smile softly at that. I called him my guardian angel once, partly because of his angel winged vest and mostly because he always seems to be there, saving me just in time. Ever since, he says that to me if I go to sleep before him. I close my eyes, but only get about three hours of sleep in all. My mind is replaying today's events, racing with possible scenarios. I can't help but wonder what this is, what's causing this... this plague. I can't help but wonder what would've happened to me if Daryl wasn't there to save my life, or if he had been the one that had gotten bit.

These thoughts flood my mind while I'm awake, and creep into my dreams, becoming nightmares. I know at one point I start whimpering in my sleep, dreaming about a walker-Daryl coming after me, and me not able to kill it because it was him. My brother shakes me awake, asking me what's wrong. In response, I crawl into his lap, lying with my head on his chest. I shake, terrified of Daryl becoming one of them. He immediately puts his arms around me, attempting to comfort me. But what really comforts me is the beating of his heart, the familiar drumming in his chest. I close my eyes, listening to the thumping that tells me the person that matters most to me in this world is still here.

"It's okay," Daryl whispers, kissing my forehead. "Shh, Clary, shh. It'll be okay. I know it's hard. I know. We'll make it."

I want to open my mouth to speak, but I can't. I find myself unable to speak. I can't say the words that I know would result in a beating from my father to the man that would never, ever hurt me.

I'm scared.

We were about an hour outside of our hometown, Bronwood, when I spoke for the first time since Jess attacked me. "Sam," I whisper.

"What?" Daryl inquires, looking over at me.

"Sam," I say again. "We have to get Sam."

"Clary, he won't be there. And if he is, he's dead."

"Daryl! We have to get him! What if he's alive?"

Daryl stops the truck, looking at me. "He can't be there. The chances of him being in Bronwood are slim, and him still being alive are even smaller."

"Please, Daryl," I beg. "If it were me, you wouldn't stop until I was by your side."

"I know what you're doin', Clary. Don't you dare put me in that spot."

"Daryl, Sammy's my family. My blood. You go back for your blood. That's what we do."

He sighs. "We go back, we check. If we don't find him, we leave. And we go for Merle, and then to Atlanta."

We're quiet the rest of the way to Bronwood, and Daryl stops his truck down the road from the Widmore residence. We look at each other, then climb out. Daryl tosses me my crossbow, and we walk silently to the front door. The door is locked, but I pick up the key from under the rock and unlock it. Daryl enters first, his crossbow raised, and I follow, closing the door after us so no walkers can surprise us from behind.

We stand silently, listening. We use our skills picked up from hunting, and wait. In the kitchen, floorboards creak softly. Someone's sneaking around, trying not to be heard. I start towards the kitchen, Daryl following me closely. As I round the corner, I lower my crossbow, smiling. Sam stands across the table, holding a knife. His black hair is messy, not in its usual "Dan and Phil" style, and his blue eyes are wide. "Hey, Sam," I say.

He lowers his knife seeing us, sitting it on the counter behind him. "Clary? Daryl?"

I set my crossbow on the table, hugging him. Daryl stands back, proven wrong. Sam's here and he's still alive. I rest my head on his shoulder, and feel as though I could melt into him. He wraps his arms around me, resting his head on mine. "Oh my god, Clary," Sam whispers, kissing my forehead. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"I was so scared you were dead, Sammy," I say, looking up at him with tears in my eyes. "But I couldn't accept it. I knew you had to be alive. I knew it."

"My mom's dead," he tells us mournfully. "They got her a day ago. I haven't seen Seb in two weeks."

"I'm sorry, Sammy," I tell him. His father died when he was a young child, his mother left to raise both him and his older brother, Sebastian. His mother was the only parent he knew.

"Here, before I forget," Sam says, reaching into his pocket. "I have something for you."

He pulls out a necklace, and I see a silver ring on it. It's his ring, the one that he always wears. Sam puts it around my neck, saying, "Hold onto it for me, will you? In case something happens to me. Please, promise me, Clary. You won't ever leave your family."

"Hey, don't talk like that," I tell him, making him look at me. "We'll be fine."

"Either way, thanks for the memories."

"We are alive," I say. "And we're gonna stay that way."

"We're gonna die. It's just a matter of time."

"Sam!" I exclaim. "Stop! I didn't come back just for you to say things like that. We're gonna get out of here. Alive."

"Yeah, about that," Daryl says, turning away from the window. "It's gonna be a bit harder than that."

Sam and I look at each other, then go over to the window. Outside, walkers make their way forward, drawn by the sound of Sam's Doberman, Duke, barking. "Oh, shit," I say. "We're gonna have to run for it." I stand back, taking my crossbow. "Y'all ready?"

"Let's do it," Daryl says, putting his crossbow on his shoulder, ready to fire. I take Sam's hand, and he grabs his knife. "Sugar, we're goin' down swinging," he says with a smirk.

"I'll be your number one with a bullet," I reply as he kisses my cheek. We start out the door, running for Daryl's truck. "C'mon, Sam."

As we run, I hear growling get a little too close to us, and push Sam ahead of me. I swing my crossbow onto my shoulder, firing at the walker and killing it. I rejoin Sam, taking his hand again. "Clary, watch out!" Sam cries.

He pulls me away just in time, kicking a walker to the ground. He drives his knife into its head, then takes my hand again. We keep running, trying to get away from the walkers that never get tired, never have to rest. Suddenly, Sam screams in pain, and I turn to find a walker biting his arm. I try to pull him away, but the walker won't let go. Another joins it, pulling my only friend away from me. He tries to fight back, but he can't move his arm. I keep my grip on his hand, but he's slowly slipping away. More walkers stumble over, and Sam goes down under them, his screams filling the air. "Sammy!" I scream, and Daryl's arm snakes around my waist, pulling me back. "No, Sammy! Let me go, Daryl! Let me go!"

Daryl takes my crossbow, putting it over his shoulder and keeping his hold on me, practically dragging me away. I scream at him to let me go, and he finally takes my shoulders, making me look at him. "Clars, we can't do anything for him."

I know he's right, that the walkers already got Sammy, but that doesn't make his screams and cries for help any less painful. Daryl and I run from the place where Sam died, and I realize I should have listened to him. He didn't want to go back for Sammy, and my friend would still be alive if I listened to him. He really did go down swinging, I just didn't want it to be this soon.

The next day, we find Merle. We drive for a while, a day or two, then stop to refuel. We can't go too fast, because of the danger of the walkers. Of course, as we stop, nothing can go right. I make my way back towards the truck after looking for some batteries in a nearby convenience store, and I'm driven back by a group of the things. I see Daryl and Merle through them, but they don't see me. I can't make it to them, so I turn and run, heading north for Atlanta.

I run for a long time, losing track of how long and far I've been running. It's nearly dark by the time I stop, and look around where I am. I'm at a motel, one called the Travelier Motel, according to the sign. "Oh, shit," I say, seeing a walker.

I run over to a nearby ice machine, climbing inside to hide from it. I'm too tired to fight it at the current moment, and right now, hiding from them seems like the best option. I curl up into a ball inside the ice machine, my crossbow lying beside me. I make sure the door is closed again before allowing myself to drift off to sleep.

But, as usual, nothing can go right. I wake to a banging on the doors, and gasp in fear. I hold my crossbow, ready for a walker to open the door and attack me. But nothing happens. Then, I hear a voice from somewhere off to my left. "Hey, over here!"

What the hell? I think, wondering who the idiot is that's luring a walker away. It's a guy, I can tell by the voice. After a while, I decide that I can exit the ice machine, and see the walker lying dead a few feet to my left. Whoever the idiot was, he saved my life. I look up to the other rooms, and see a guy standing outside one of them. He looks to be arguing, maybe with someone inside. Then, I see walkers starting towards him. "Shit," I say.

I take off towards him, climbing the stairs two at a time. "Shit!" he exclaims, seeing the walkers.

A walker gets too close to him, so I fire at it. It goes down, and he looks at me. He's Korean, in his early twenties. He's got dark hair under a baseball cap, and dark eyes. He looks at the walker, then back at me as I lower my crossbow. I say, "C'mon, Short Round. I ain't got all day."

He's obviously in a daze. After all, I did just save his life. I sigh, taking his hand. I pull him along behind me, my crossbow on my back and knife in my hand. I stop at the ice machine, and open a door. "Get in," is all I say.

He climbs in, and I close the door once I'm in. "Glenn Rhee," he says quietly, so no walkers will hear him.

"Clary Dixon," I reply in the same quiet manner. Something touches me, and I flinch at the contact. "Easy," Glenn whispers, misinterpreting my flinch for a surprised jump. "Just me. Don't shoot."

I smile at that, surprising myself. It's the first time that I've smiled since I was reunited with Sam. I quickly stop, looking down. "Hey, little girl," I hear Glenn say.

"Name's Clary," I reiterate. "And I ain't a little girl."

"Not you," he replies. "I have a walkie."

I don't reply, just listen as he speaks into the walkie. "Hey, little girl. Hey there, this is Glenn, and, uh, I'm kinda in a jam here. Uh, little girl, if you're there, can you put your daddy on the phone, or the talkie, or whatever?"

Over the walkie, a man replies, "This is Lee. What's up?"

"So, I'm down at that motor inn, and, well, I'm stuck."

"Stuck?" Lee repeats.

"Yeah, I saw a chance to get some supplies for the group and a bunch of roaming ones got the jump on me. We're hiding over here but they won't leave."

"Hey, Glenn, we're gonna talk it over and send a group to come get you, alright?"

"Awesome. We'll sit tight till then."

"What do you mean, 'we?'"

I take the walkie from him. "Name's Clary. Ran into Glenn. We had to hide from the walkers."

We sit in silence for about fifteen minutes, and then I hear voices. A man, outside. I recognize it as Lee. "Glenn," I whisper. "They're here."

He opens the door, and says, "Guys. Thank god you're here."

"Jesus, Glenn," a girl says. Glenn climbs out, and gives me a hand to help me out, but I don't take it. I climb out on my own, and the girl stares at me. "Who the hell is that?"

Glenn and I climb over the wall, kneeling with them. "I'm Clary," I tell her.

"Carley," she replies.

"That wasn't so hard," Lee says.

"Can we get out of here before any of these things notice us?" Carley inquires.

"Not yet," Glenn says. "There's a survivor trapped up there."

"No way. We gotta go."

"Listen. I was out here looking for gas. And then, up there in the corner room, I heard crying coming from inside."

"Who is it?" Lee inquires.

"It's a girl. We talked and she got frightened. I was trying to get in and help her and she started yelling and saying I was bitten. I tried to convince her I wasn't and that's when all of these guys came out of the forest. That's when Clary showed up, saving my life. We ended up hiding in the ice machine."

"Lucky you," Carley replies. "You made a friend. Now, let's go!"

"We can't just leave her," Glenn says. I like him, he's loyal to people he doesn't even know, and wants to save whoever he can.

"Damn right we can't," Lee agrees.

"You guys are suicidal," Carley snaps. "Over a girl!"

"Majority rules," I say.

"I'm saving her, with or without you," Glenn says.

"You won't be alone," I assure him.

"Think about if it were you," Lee tells Carley.

"Fine!" she reluctantly agrees. "Let's go save Glenn's damsel in distress."

"Okay, this is the plan," Lee whispers as we gather around. "We don't know how hard it's going to be to get her out of that room."

"Yeah, it's boarded up," Glenn says.

"So we have to kill every one of them in here," Lee says.

Carley loads her gun, and I say quickly, "Quietly. Noise attracts these things. Now let's have a look around."

Lee leans around a wall, and comes back with a pillow. "Good luck smothering them to death," Carley snaps.

"That's not really what I have in mind," Lee replies. I peer over the wall, and see a walker on the other side of a car. I look over at the others, saying, "I saw one. Other side of that car."

"Be careful peeking around," Glenn warns. "If they get on our scent, we're toast."

"What do you see?" Carley inquires.

Lee looks out again, then says, "We can hide over by that RV if we keep our heads low."

So I follow Glenn and Lee over to the RV, Lee looking around the opposite side. "I'm not sure I could take them all on, even if I had a weapon."

"I think you're forgetting about something," I say, pulling my crossbow off my back. I lean around, putting my crossbow on my shoulder. I fire at the one closest to me, and it goes down. I reload, and make my way forward to the other one. I kill it, then hurry back over to the others, retrieving my arrows. "That was easy," I say, kneeling next to them.

We go back over to the wall, regrouping with Carley. I look at the walker by the car, the pillow in Lee's hands, and the gun in Carley's. "Get out your gun," I say. "Lee, pillow."

"But the noise!" Carley replies, as Lee hands me the pillow.

"Just follow me."

Carley and I hurry over to the walker, and I put the pillow in its face. Carley fires the gun, killing it, the pillow acting as a silencer. The three remaining walkers don't even react. Lee and Glenn follow us over, and I aim my crossbow at the walker down here. It goes silent, my bolt in its head. I look at Lee. "Might want to get that ax."

He nods and goes over to it, taking it from the case. We follow him upstairs, Glenn and Carley lagging behind. Lee kills one walker, while I kill the other. I gather my bolts, reloading my crossbow. Lee knocks on the door, calling, "Hello in there. We're here to help."

"Please, just go away!" comes a woman's reply.

"Let's go, guys," Carley says.

"No," I snap at her. "If we can help, we're helping. You go. You obviously don't care about the survival of others."

Lee keeps his attention on the woman inside, not noticing the standoff. "If you open up, we can take you somewhere safer," Lee says. "We've got a group in town."

"No no no!" she cries. "Please!"

"She's in trouble!" Glenn exclaims.

"Miss, we're coming in," Lee tells her. In one swing, he breaks the board on the door. He tries to open the door, but finds it's locked. He kicks the door, and the woman cries, "Stop! Just stop. I'm coming out."

She opens the door, and the first thing I see is the bite on her arm. "You're hurt," Lee says.

"We need to get you help," Glenn says.

"Glenn, she's bit," I say. "There's nothing we can do. You get bit, you get sick. You die, then you turn. It's too late for her."

"Please, just go away," she begs, then, she looks at the gun in Carley's hand. "You have a gun."

"So?" Carley inquires.

"Can I borrow it?"

"What do you mean, 'borrow?'"

"Give it to me. I can end this and then there's no problem."

"Whoa!" Lee exclaims, realizing what she means.

"Please," she begs. "I don't want to be one of them. They're… they're satanic."

Lee still refuses to give her the gun. She then turns to me. "You've seen people turn. I can tell. You know what'll happen. Please, I don't want to be one of them. Help me end it. Please, I beg you."

"Lee," I say. "Take Glenn and Carley away. I'll be down in a minute."

"Clary," Glenn says. "What're you gonna do?"

"Go!" I bark, looking at them. "I'm doing what needs to be done.

"You're just a kid," Lee argues. "I'll stay. I'll do it."

"You don't have the balls," I snap, and Lee glares at me. I pull out my own gun, a Beretta 92FS. "Go," I tell them, making sure a round is in the chamber. "Y'all don't need to see this."

"There's no changing her mind," Carley says. "She's putting a woman out of her misery. Let her."

With that, she turns and walks away. Lee follows hesitantly, and Glenn remains looking at me. "Go, Short Round," I tell him. "I'll see you in a minute."

He turns and walks away without another word, while I look at the woman. "Thank you," she breathes as I aim my Beretta. "Bless you, child."

Her body drops as the gunshot echoes through the motel.

Either I have terrible luck, or I'm cursed. Not long after we made it back to the rest of Lee's group, holed up in a pharmacy, the walkers come. They're attracted by an alarm ringing in another part of the store, where Lee and a girl named Lilly are gathering medicine for Lilly's father, Larry. "Oh, shit," I say as I hear the ringing.

Everyone scrambles to gather their gear, and I kneel in front of a little girl named Clementine. "Hey, you stay by me, okay?" I say, and she nods. "If we have to run, you stay with me. I'll keep you safe."

I look up as Lee comes over, and he tells her the same thing. Meanwhile, Kenny, another survivor, barks orders to everyone. "Oh, shit," I reiterate, seeing the dead start to push on the door. "The door! Now!"

Glenn, another survivor named Doug, Carley, and I push back against the door, struggling to keep it closed. Lilly calls for Glenn's help in another part of the store, and Lee takes his place. Both Carley and Doug try to say their goodbyes, but Lee isn't having it. "We will make it through this!" he barks.

The walkers push harder, and break in through a window. Carley picks off the two that try to climb in, and I yell, "Clem!"

She comes running, and I say, "I need you to look for something strong to put between the handles. Go!"

Clementine runs off, and Doug runs to another window. Carley picks off more walkers, ones that manage to get into the store. "Clem!" Lee yells. "Find anything?"

"Not yet!" she replies. "Wait!"

Clementine appears a moment later, carrying a cane. I take it, and shove it through the door handles. That's when we see that both Carley and Doug are in trouble, and we can't save one without losing the other. It's Carley that Lee chooses to save, tossing her more ammo. The walkers pull Doug out the window, and Kenny comes back, yelling that it's time to go. Clementine turns and runs toward them, but a walker grabs her ankles, and she goes down, letting out a scream. I put an arrow through its brain, and Lee picks her up. I run after them, retrieving my arrow. We flee the store, leaving it infested with walkers.

We drive to the Travelier Motel, knowing that we can hole up in there, a few days at least. Glenn and I stand by his car, listening to the broadcast. He and Lee are the only ones I can trust in this group, aside from Clementine. "Hey, Glenn," Lee says, walking over.

"One minute," Glenn replies, listening to the radio. It states that Atlanta is in a Stage Nine Catastrophe. "I think I need to go."

"To Atlanta?" Lee inquires.

"Yeah," Glenn says with a nod. "I got friends there, and I just can't stay here knowing they could be trapped in that city."

"Sounds like nobody knows what's happening there," Lee replies. "When we left a few days ago it could've gone either way."

"I gotta take my chances," Glenn says.

"And you won't be goin' alone," I say, and the two look at me. "If you're goin' to Atlanta, there's no way in hell you're goin' without me. I gotta find my brothers, and that's where we were heading."

"You gotta do what you gotta do," Lee says after a moment.

"And this is what we gotta do," I agree.

"You guys be safe," Glenn tells him.

"You, too," Lee says. I climb in the passenger seat of Glenn's car, throwing my crossbow in the backseat. Glenn climbs in beside me, and we drive away from the rest of them. We drive in silence for a while, then Glenn asks, "Are you okay?"

"I guess so," I reply. "As okay as someone can get. Why?"

"I mean, you just killed a person, Clary. Excuse me for being worried about you."

"I put her out of her misery, Glenn. That's what that was. Mercy killing. Not murder," I say, but his words still ring in my ears. Excuse me for being worried about you. He cares about my well being, even though we just met barely three hours beforehand. That's more than anyone, except for Daryl and Sam, has ever done for me. Before, no one cared about this redneck, but Glenn's something else. I know that I can trust him. And I've only trusted a handful of people my entire life.

We make it to Atlanta the next morning, or at least we should. The interstate leading in is blocked with traffic, helicopters and fighter jets flying overhead. I grab Glenn's hand when I see the first explosion in the distance, the first bomb falling on Atlanta. He looks at me in surprise, and I release his hand. "Sorry," I mutter.

"It's okay," Glenn replies softly, taking my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. We climb out of his car, walking forward. We don't go far, meeting two families, or at least I assume it's two families. Two men, one fat and the other buff, two women, both thin and frail, and two kids. The boy looks to be my age, the girl about twelve.

Glenn walks up to the dark haired, buff man, while I linger behind. I can feel the boy watching me, and look over at him. I immediately notice he has dark hair and blue eyes, and think of Sam. I look down, then look up at Glenn, who's deep in conversation with the dark haired man. I hear footsteps beside me, and reach for my crossbow as I turn. I stop when I realize it's the boy that's my age, and look away from him. I flinch when he rests his hand on my shoulder, stepping back. "You okay?" he inquires.

"World's goin' to shit," I reply. "Ain't nobody okay."

"I'm Carl," he says. "Carl Grimes."

"Clary Dixon." I turn and run up to Glenn, and hear the dark haired man say, "We're thinking of setting up camp with the Peletiers. There's a quarry not far from here."

"Sounds like a good a place as any," I say. Glenn nods his agreement, then looks at the man and the woman with long hair. "Oh, Clary, this is Shane Walsh and Lori Grimes. The family back there is the Peletiers, Ed, Carol, and their daughter, Sophia. The boy is—"

"Carl," I say. "I know." I turn to Shane. "So, where's this quarry?"

It takes us about a day for us to set up the camp, and the first night, we all sleep around the main fire. Well, most of us do. The Peletiers—Carol, Sophia, and Ed—sleep away from the fire. I notice that Carol and Sophia pale when they see Ed coming close to them, and the way they flinch if he so much as moves his hand. If I had to guess, in what I've seen of him today, he hits them. They're abused. And the way that I know, is, well, I'm just like them.

I can't sleep, continuously tossing and turning. When I do sleep, it brings nightmares. At one point, I wake up, gasping, after having one of Glenn dying. I haven't even known the guy for two days, and I've already grown close to him. Close enough to know that I will do anything to keep him alive, like he's my brother. The way that my family's ending up, I don't think that it's a good thing.

I look around, watching to see if anyone saw me as I woke up. If anyone saw me in a state of weakness. Everyone is asleep, but I need to get away from them for a bit. I stand, walking over to the edge of the cliff. I look down at the quarry below, the moon's light glinting off its blue surface. I sit down on the edge, my legs dangling off the side.

"Daryl," I whisper, as if he's listening. "Daryl, if you're out there, if you're alive… please. Come find me. I can't do this without you. I need you here next to me. If I'm gonna survive this, then you need to be here with me. 'Cause I can't survive without you. I need my angel."

I look down, closing my eyes as an unwelcome tear leaks down from them. I silently curse myself. I can't bring myself to cry when I lose my best friend, but I'm crying because I was seperated from my brother? What the hell is wrong with me?

I wipe my eyes, standing. I go back over to the group, lying down closer to Glenn than I had been before. I look over at him, falling asleep still facing him.

Two weeks pass by at camp, and there is still no sign of Daryl, or Merle. Most nights, I spend an hour or more sitting on the cliff, alone. It's my spot, the place where I go when I need to be alone. For some reason, it calms me.

Two weeks after the first night, I wake up, hearing a voice outside my tent. I immediately notice that the voice is frantic, but I don't process what he's saying. I crawl out of my sleeping bag, unzipping my tent. I run a hand through my hair, so it at least looks somewhat decent when I stomp their ass. The first good night's sleep I have, and some asshole ruins it. I'm not in the mood for the emotional shit.

I rub my eyes, trying to wake up a little, and I see Glenn running around the camp. What the hell is he doing?

He wears only pajama bottoms, and his hair is messy. It's obvious that he just woke up. The thing that catches me off guard, though, is the look in his eyes. Glenn's scared. It's then that I realize that it's my name that he's calling in a whisper, not wanting to wake anyone. "Glenn," I say, and he turns to me. "What the hell are you doing? I was sleepin'."

Glenn suddenly wraps me in a hug, and I flinch at first. Then, I realize that he's not going to hurt me. But I still don't hug him back. I'm slightly uncomfortable, him being this close without a shirt. "Oh my god, Clary," he whispers, his voice shaking a little. "You're here."

"Where the hell else would I be?" I shoot back, as he pulls away. Then, when I see the way he's looking at me, I realize what he means. "Oh. I'm still here, Short Round. I'm not gone yet."

If it had been anyone else that hugged me, I would've stomped their ass. But Glenn, he's different. I trust him enough to hug me, and I don't trust anyone enough to hug me. I gently take his hand, leading him to my spot on the cliff. We sit down next to each other, and he asks, "What is this place?"

"It's where I go when I need to think, or be alone," I tell him. "It calms me, in a way." He nods, keeping his eyes cast down, and I ask, "Hey, you okay?"

Glenn looks over at me, then, like a little kid, he says quietly, "I had a nightmare."

"I get 'em, too," I say softly, taking his hand. "What was it about?"

"You," Glenn replies. I cock my head to the side, silently questioning what he means. "I had a dream that you were attacked by the geeks. You know, them. And that you… died. It took place here, at camp. I was so scared it was real, Clary. I had to find you."

He rests his forehead on my shoulder, and I let him. I rub his back, his skin smooth and unmarked, unlike mine. "The first night here," I admit, "I had a nightmare that you were dead."

Glenn shakes, close to crying. "Hey," I say. "Look at me. Look at me, Glenn." He pulls back hesitantly, looking at me. "I'm right here. I ain't goin' nowhere. And I won't go down without a fight."

"Come with me tomorrow," Glenn says suddenly. "On the run."

"I would," I tell him. "But I need to hunt. We need fresh meat."

Glenn nods, and we stand. "Go back to bed, Glenn," I tell him. "I'm still kickin' ass and takin' names. Don't worry 'bout me."

We start back to our tents, and Glenn suddenly wraps me in another hug. I smile slightly, hugging him back. "I'll be here when the morning comes 'round," I tell him. "And if you need me, you know where to find me. I'll always be there for you."

We're getting ready to part when Glenn asks, "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" I ask. "You mean hunt?"

"No," he says, shaking his head. "I mean, this. Surviving. You lost your brothers, and I want to think that I'm all you have, but, I mean, we just met. You're so brave, all the time. I've never seen you scared. You never falter, never break."

I look at him for a moment, silent. "It's all a facade."

I turn and walk into my tent, leaving him standing in the clearing, alone. About two hours later, while it's still dark out, I'm up again. This time, I'm getting ready to hunt. I lace up my boots, sitting alone in my tent meant for three. I look around it, suddenly feeling very alone. "God, Daryl," I whisper. "Where the hell are you?"

When I get no reply, I stand, sneaking out of camp with my crossbow on my back. I shoot a few squirrels early in the morning, stringing them on a cord and throwing it over my shoulder. A little after noon, I stop next a creek, washing the squirrel blood off my hands. I look at my reflection in the creek, and I find a dirt-covered, dangerous-looking, survivor staring back at me. Is that all that I am now? A survivor that'll do anything to survive? Including killing?

I swipe my hand in the water, ripples blurring my reflection. I stand and walk off, back towards camp, hoping to find something more on the way back. When I'm not far from camp, I hear voices up ahead, and start forward. One's loud and obviously abusive, the other soft and quiet. I stop just inside the treeline, watching. A large, fat, pigheaded man stands over a frail woman that I recognize to be a woman named Carol. She's Sophia's mother. I see the young blonde girl cowering with her mother, both of them in the man's shadow. Ed, I remember his name being. Ed yells something that I don't quite catch, but I do catch him calling her a bitch.

My hand curls into a fist at his comment, and I snap when I see him slap her. Carol falls to the ground with the force of it, and Sophia remains standing, bravely facing Ed on her own. Ed starts to walk over to Sophia, raising his hand. "Oh hell no," I say.

I step out of the clearing, and pick up a small rock. It's not that big, about the size of a golf ball. I throw it at Ed, hitting him in the arm. "Hey, asshole!"

He turns to me as I start forward, and staggers back when I punch him in the face. "You little bitch," he hisses, gently touching his nose. "You'll pay for that."

Before I can react, he backhands me. I stumble to the side a step or two, but I don't fall. I've had practice before with things like this. I kick Ed in his balls, slightly surprised that he has any, and he falls to his knees. I punch him in the face, and he falls on his back. I kneel over him, punching him, ignoring my bloody knuckles. I put my knife at his neck, growling, "If you ever, ever, fucking touch them again, I will fucking kill you. I will not stop next time. You hear me? I'll beat you to death, Ed. I'll beat you to death."

"Who the hell are you?" he says, and I'm surprised he can still speak.

"I'm Clary fucking Dixon, you son of a bitch. And I'm your worst nightmare."

I remove my knife from his neck, punching him again for good measure. I stand, going over to Carol and Sophia, helping Carol to her feet. She sobs, staring at her husband. I lead them away, and Sophia looks up at me. "What did you just do?"

"If he ever touches either of you," I say, my voice cold, "you come straight to me. Don't hesitate. 'Cause I won't. I'll kill the bastard, if it's the last thing I ever do."

"But what did you do?" Sophia asks.

I reply, "I fixed what needed fixin'."

After the hunting incident with Ed, Sophia starts spending more time with me, and soon, so does Carl. A week passes, no sign of my brothers. I begin to worry that they didn't make it out, and begin to wonder what the hell I'm going to do.

Carl and I sit next to each other at the fire one evening, about three weeks after me and my brothers were separated, and I mess with the holes in my jeans. Anything to keep my mind off Glenn. "Worried about Glenn?" Carl inquires, as if he can read my mind.

"He's never been gone this long," I reply, a little too quickly with a little too much emotion. Don't show them, I silently tell myself. Don't let them see your weakness. Glenn's gonna be okay. Just because he's not back yet doesn't mean anything. He wouldn't leave you.

Most of the time, when Glenn goes on a run in the city, he's back before dark. Now, it's nearly midnight, and he's still gone. "I'm sure he's fine," Carl says.

I happen to glance over Carl's shoulder as I open my mouth to reply, but no sound comes out. "Clary?" Carl inquires, looking at me, concern in his voice.

"Daryl," I manage, seeing them. My two brothers stand with Shane, my eyes landing on the younger one. I scramble to my feet, calling, "Daryl!"

The dark haired one with a crossbow turns, and I smile seeing him. His eyes go wide seeing me across the camp, and calls, "Clary?"

"Daryl!" I exclaim, not even bothering to restrain myself as I go sprinting across camp. I pretty much launch myself into his arms, and Daryl wraps his arms around me, picking me up. I bury my face in his shoulder, my arms wrapped around his neck and legs around his waist. He hugs me back tightly, whispering, "I thought I lost you, Clars. I was so scared you were dead."

I'm close to crying in my brother's arms, refusing to let go of him. "Daryl," I whimper, his name all that I'm able to say. "Daryl."

"I'm right here," he replies. "I'm right here, Clars. And I ain't goin' nowhere." Over my shoulder, he says, "Thank you."

"No problem," I hear Glenn reply, and I look at him, still hanging on to Daryl. "This was you?" I ask. "You brought them here?"

He nods, and I let go of Daryl, hugging him. "Thank you, Glenn," I say. "Thank you so much."

"It's not a big deal," Glenn tells me, pulling back. "I'd do anything for my friends."

I smile at that, turning to look at Merle. I'm even happy to see him, surprisingly. "Hey, Merle."

He nods once, not one for showing any emotion, even when reunited with family. Daryl takes my hand, and we sit next to each other at the fire. I lean into him, my back pressing into his chest. I can feel his heart beating, his chest rising and falling with each breath. I take his hand, threading my fingers through his. With his free hand, he brushes my hair over my shoulder in a constant pattern. After a while, he stops, dropping his hand. Daryl puts his arm around me, almost protectively, gently pulling me closer to him. I yawn, resting my head on his shoulder. Daryl kisses my forehead, whispering, "Sleep now, Clars. I'm here. Angels are watching over you."

"I love you, Daryl," I whisper in reply, letting myself relax for the first time in a while. I fall asleep, safe in my brother's arms, before he can reply.

And that's the story of how I got to Atlanta. How I found in a brother in a Korean I dubbed Short Round. And, even though I didn't know it at the time, the story of how a kid named Carl became a part of me. It's also the story of how I came to be who I am. I guess you could say it's my origin story, 'cause every hero's got one, right?

Though, the thing is, I'm not sure if I really am the hero.

I'll let you be the judge of that.