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Disclaimer: I do not, nor have, nor ever will own anything related to the label of The Walking Dead.


Chapter Two: Nightfall

Ryan's hideout was nothing to be truly impressed about, but it would provide some much needed shelter for the night. He had managed to hole up in a house that was perched on the end of the street, one that Casey could vaguely remember had been owned by an older married couple. The exterior paint was chipping in many places, and as they made their way up the front stairs, she could smelt a musky smell that had to be mold. The house was general; it was large, at least two levels, with lots of wide windows circling the upper level. That explained how he had been able to spy on her without having to leave his hideaway. He had barricaded the lower level windows with pieces of furniture that had once occupied the main space, and, from what he had explained, had set up a pile of blankets in the middle of the room for a makeshift bed.

He allowed her in first. Candles were strewn in patches along the wooden floors, most of them lit and flickering, and a small pile of cans and bottles remained half-hidden in the corner, a blanket carelessly thrown on top of them. As he had said, his mound of blankets was smack in the middle of the floor. She took another once over, and sauntered over to his rations. As she flung her pack on to the ground, she could hear him locking the dead bolt to the front door once again, and she heard the unfamiliar scratching of furniture being drug across hardwood. Casey began unzipping her grey-green backpack as he began talking once more, her hands emptying the small amounts of food that she had left in there.

"We should be safe in here for the night. I have been for the past three so ... Shouldn't be much different. There's not much activity at night, just a few walkers that creep along the windows," he explained.

Casey froze with two granola bars in her hands just so she could give him a strange look. "What did you just call them?"

"Uh, walkers. Y'know, cause they still walk and stuff, but they aren't very fast."

She nodded, taking the term and trying it on her own tongue. "Walkers. Huh. That's a good name for 'em."

Ryan gave her a smile, but she didn't return it; she just continued to count her supplies. The steak knife she had banished back to her belt loop and the meat cleaver that remained at the bottom of her bag were the only two weapons she had left in good condition-her other knife, a hunting knife given to her by Daryl on her fourteenth birthday, was smothered with zombie guts and she hadn't yet found a stream or water source to wash it off in. A can opener, half-broken from the last use. Three shirts-two tee's and a long sleeved-and a singular pair of spare pants, black sweats. Another bra, two pairs of underwear jammed, last minute, in a side pocket. A folded picture of her with her two brothers, Merle and Daryl, both of which were not smiling at the camera, but had their arms around her shoulders. Now, for the important stuff ... Two cans of peaches left, only three granola bars ... no water. It was starting to look grim.

"You ... never told me your name," Ryan said, walking over to his pile of discarded blankets. He placed his gun beside the only, half-stained pillow and flopped on to his nest of a bed. He must have noticed her eyeing up his stash, which was considerably bigger than hers, because he then quickly added on, "Oh, and you're welcome to anything you need."

Casey looked up at him, giving him a frown of disbelief. "You really are stupid, aren't you?" she asked, shifting to kneel in front of her bag. "If you were to give me everything I needed, I'd be pickin' you clean out. Hell, if I were smart, I'd pull my knife on you an' end it all. Take over your little ..." She motioned around the room. "... establishment."

"But you won't," Ryan finished.

"What?" She tossed her measly supply of food back into her bag, tucking it under the couple of shirts.

"You wouldn't do it," he repeated.

"And why do you think that?" She made sure to give him the nastiest smile she could manage without feeling bad. He had a baby face; it was soft and always alight with some sort of ... ease. She felt bad when she made him frown or look down towards the ground in shame. But in the same breath, she felt the need to make him back pedal; he was getting on her nerves with all his damn assumptions that just happened to be right.

"'Cause I'm the first person you've seen too," Ryan answered. When Casey's shoulders hitched with the breath that caught in her lungs, he continued. "See? I knew it. You've been alone since the start too, haven't you?"

"Lucky guess," Casey spat out, lips pursing to the side. But he was right; she wouldn't, or more, she couldn't, just pull her knife on him and end it all. A strange feeling in her gut just wouldn't ease up if she even thought about it for a split second. He had been so kind right off the bat, to invite her in and practically give her all of his supplies. And that face ... it was ... little boy-ish. He literally looked like he had the face of a little kid, so thin and innocent looking. And scar free; it made Casey a tad self-conscious of the teeny scar that ran vertically along the inner edge of her left eyebrow.

Casey blamed the Asian's innocent baby face for everything.

"And besides," he started, "I have a gun. I could out do you any day in a fight." He laughed, his head tipping back as the noise escaped his mouth.

"You could barely aim the damn thing," Casey retorted.

Ryan frowned, although it was a playful glare he sent her way. "Remind me next time not to send a bullet through a walker's brain to help you out."

"I didn't ask for your help, dumb ass!"

This only caused him to start laughing once again, and it took him a little longer to quell the chuckles. Once he did, his gaze turned sharper. He was getting serious again. "Well, let's just get through the night, alright? Until then, my home is yours. If you're hungry, go ahead and eat something," Ryan said.

He didn't even manage to get the words "go ahead" out past his chapped lips before Casey was grasping at the nearest, full water bottle from the pile and began fumbling with the lid. She resorted to prying it off with her teeth, even after Ryan reached out for it to help her, and she jammed the plastic mouth of the bottle into her mouth, tipping her head back. It wasn't cool-in fact, the water was disgustingly warm from sitting in the sun all day-but the moisture quenched the achy feeling that had tickled the back of her throat. Water dribbled down her chin and on to the front of her olive colored shirt, but she didn't care. She downed the rest of the bottle before she managed to take a startled, gasping breath.

"Thirsty?" he teased.

She managed a nod before gasping for another breath of air. Casey struggled to breath, trying to catch her breath as she looked at him, eyes locking. A deep blue color, something close to azure, met with his dark. Something flashed behind his eyes-triumph? Happiness?-before they returned to their glossy, half-lidded ease.

"Casey," she stated. She took another breath before she tried again. "Casey Dixon."

"It's nice to meet you, Casey," Ryan responded, shifting his weight so he could extend an offered hand in her direction.

Casey clasped his hand in hers, giving it a firm shake. "You too."

Silence fell upon the two as they sat, across from each other, watching as the shadows ebbed along the walls, shrinking and growing with the flickering lights that the candles gave off. After a few moments, Ryan reached under the decrepit pillow and yanked out a can open, waggling it in his hands with a pull of his wrist. Casey leaned back, grasping two cans off of the top of the pile, and passed them across the space between both of them. Ryan cracked open both cans after a minute or two of twisting his can opener around on the tops, and handed one back to her. Neither of them waited or even wondered about utensils; Casey used her index finger to fish the pears out of the can, and her thumb and middle finger to pinch the fruit until she could plop it into her awaiting mouth.

"Hey. Do you ... do you have anyone here? Y'know, anyone you wanna ... try to find?"

The sudden question almost made Casey choke on a piece of pear. She finished chewing with a large amount of gusto before she swallowed and turned to give him a glare with cold blue eyes. "What's it to you?"

Ryan's eyes shifted to the floor. He lowered his can so that it would sit in his lap, right between his thighs. "I was thinking of leaving town soon ... and I was wondering if there was anyone you wanted to try to check on before ... maybe we left together."

"Who said I was leavin' with you?!" Casey exploded, angry with the heat of the moment. Her somewhat flawed plan floated around in her head-she was going to live off the land, survive in the wild! There was no way some sissy, pretty boy like him would be able to survive in the woods for more than an hour, and there was no way she was going to live in the city. That was just asking for trouble! Not only that, but she still had another two days. Another two days to wait around for Daryl and Merle and then leave with them when they came. There was no way she was leaving family behind.

"Hey, it was just a suggestion!" Ryan rebuffed, throwing his hands up in the air in a mock surrender. "No need to jump down my throat. Besides, you gotta keep your voice down. Walkers."

She took a breath, trying to calm herself down. Casey plucked another pear out of the can and chomped down on it, hard. "Sorry," she mumbled. It took her a couple seconds of internal conflict, but she figured after she had yelled at him like that, she might as well throw him a bone so he could maybe at least understand a little. Or maybe he could at least try to understand where she was coming from. The words started out slow, but became more fluid as she went. "I ... my brothers. I was waitin' for my brothers. I was gonna wait for 'em to come back an' my plan was for all of us to leave together and live off the land ... Y'know, go all 'forest people.' It sounded like it would have been an easier route then tryin' to live in the city with all these dead bastards. Not to mention living in a city could get dangerous with other hostile groups. People go bat-shit crazy when things like this happen."

To her utter surprise, Ryan said nothing about how she had finally offered a piece of information about herself to him. No teasing, no taunting, nothing. As he chewed, he nodded, showing that he at least understood the words that were coming out of her mouth. "Where'd your brothers go?" he asked. "We could ... I mean, I could help you look for them."

"They went up north, on some sort of all boys huntin' trip ... hence why I'm not with 'em right now. We always go huntin', the three of us ... but this time it was different. I was hopin' they were gonna come back down here, maybe to grab some supplies or something ... but that hasn't happened yet," she finished, her voice falling to a softer register on the last five words.

Ryan's shadow-like eyes found hers, and Casey saw something in them she hadn't seen in anyone's eyes in a long time ... sympathy. As Ryan spoke, Casey felt herself, subconsciously, leaning forward. "My brother ... Glenn ... he used to live in Atlanta ... I haven't heard from him since this all started. I'm just ... I'm hoping he got out."

Casey's eyes closed, and she forced herself to take another breath. She wasn't going to offer him up false flickers of hope, just as he hadn't with her. She only took another long, lasting breath before she opened her eyes, making sure she caught Ryan's gaze.

"You help me, I help you?" Ryan mumbled, inky eyes unwavering.

That sent her mind wheeling. She had her plan, the plan that was going to keep her alive! Live with her brothers, all three of them taking refuge in a place they all knew well, the wilderness. They would catch jack rabbits and cook up venison on an open fire ... kill stray walkers with a flick of their wrists if they needed to. She didn't need the city, she didn't need anyone to help her get this plan rolling ... especially him. But, a feeling of abandonment washed over her suddenly when she made the mistake of continuing to look into Ryan's deep brown eyes. Daryl and Merle, if they were even still alive, were miles away, way up north. They wouldn't come back for her, it would be way too out of their way this early. They would have to find shelter, to establish themselves first before they would even step foot down here ... It was hopeless to think of anything different. She was stuck alone.

"Well?" Ryan whispered.

One, single nod. That was all he was gonna get.