Sorry for the long wait. It's reeeeeeeeeallllly hard to concentrate on getting words into the computer whilst under the influence of cold meds. This scene isn't done, but I can't write any longer, so I'll put the rest in the next chapter.

I Don't own any of this. If I did, I'd be able to afford that sinus drain thing I've been wanting...


Glenn kicked the door once for good measure then stalked back toward the bench. He looked at it for a moment, then made as if to sit on it.

"What the hell, man?!" Carl yelled at him. Having grown up with walking corpses being normal, Carl had a skewed vision of what was scary. This place, however, was downright spooky and that was really getting to him.

"What?" Daryl shrugged. "Let tha man sit. Bitch ain't usin it no more."

Glenn took a long look at the bench then decided to sit on the grass beside it. Daryl scoffed at him then walked further into the garden room. Glenn had his feet planted so that his knees were in the air by his shoulders and his head down between them.

"What now?" Glenn asked from between his knees.

"Well, it looks like we're gonna have to go forward." Carl loved to state the obvious and watch Daryl fight to keep from strangling him. "At least there's two doors this time." He pointed to the exits set into two walls on the other side of the garden. The one directly opposite the door they had entered was a solid double swinging door; the one on the adjoining wall was also a double door but made of glass that had been spray painted over and chained around the handles.

Glenn hoisted himself out of the grass and strolled over to the glass doors. He put his face to the painted glass and cupped a hand around his eye socket to shade out the light so he could, possibly, see into the next room. He straightened again and tried to rub some of the paint off with his thumb then shrugged.

"I can't see anything..." he reported.

Daryl walked over to the other door and pushed it open a crack. He pulled his head back to look at his companions then cocked it toward the double-hung door. "I think we got something here..." He told them and poked his head into the next room.

Carl and Glenn came up behind him to take a peek. Just beyond the door was an industrial kitchen. There was food in kitchens... right?

Daryl pushed the door open further and aimed his crossbow to the right side of the room while Glenn covered the left side. There was nothing moving, but they had learned that there didn't always have to be something moving for a thing to be dangerous.

The kitchen had been scrubbed bare a long time ago then left to gather dust. The lights were on but many of them were blown out or flickering with that annoying buzz sound that fluorescent lights tend to give off when they get old.

The counters were mostly metal, with the odd butcher block set in. It looked to have been a really nice place in its day. They started to search the mostly bare cupboards and shelves for anything vaguely edible. They put their scroungings onto one scratched steel counter, making a pitiful pile of corroded cans and vacuüm sealed packages.

The sound of the old refrigerator kicking on with a fit of thudding protest made all three of them jump in their skin. Carl looked to the other two and then back at the fridge. Usually they left fridges alone due to the lack of things like electrical power. There was never anything nice in a fridge or freezer.

Glenn pulled out a folding nap sack and started stuffing things from the pile carefully into the light bag as Carl advanced on the growling refrigerator.

"You really wanna do that?" Daryl asked him with a half smile. "After ten years the mold has prob'ly grown mold. There might be armies of lil mold creatures in there."

"I dunno..." Carl shrugged as he put his hand on the fridge handle. "I think someone actually lives here."

"Awe, man!" Daryl always started his arguments like that, "Ain't nobody livin here! You think someone's just gonna let us waltz right inna their kitchen?"

"Dude!" Carl still had his hand on the appliance. "Nobody let us walk in. It's like we were being herded."

"Right," Daryl cocked an eyebrow and scrunched his face. "An you still wanna take what's in their icebox?"

"I'm gonna take a look..."

"Hold yer nose. Ain't no tellin what's in'ere." Daryl's accent always got thicker when he thought people were ignoring his good advice. He placed his hands, palms down on the metal counter top behind him and hoisted himself up to sit with crossed his arms.

Carl held his breath and yanked the fridge open. There was nothing. Well... not exactly nothing. There was a jar of green olives that looked fresh, a half jar of jam that had something growing in it, some stiff slices of individually wrapped yellow cheese and a giant serving platter complete with smooth metal bowled top.

The thing smelled faintly of rot but not enough to put them off the contents. Carl snatched up the meager offerings and tossed them to Glenn then eyed the serving platter.

"Well," Glenn jerked his chin forward to indicate the platter. "What are you waiting for?"

"Somethin'a jump out at him..." Daryl offered with a smirk.

"Yeah..." Carl grunted and reached for the shiney lid.

He grasped the handle on the top tightly and lifted it off with a smooth motion. His mind couldn't quite take in the gruesome sight, but his body was already reacting, backing him away from the rotting severed head.

"Oh! Gross!" Carl's voice broke a bit into a squeak as the door to the fridge bumped his back. He realized what had happened and started to chuckle.

"Man!" Glenn picked up a random spoon and poked at the head. "Who would do that?" He poked it once more for good measure then tossed the spoon into the fridge and turned back to stuff the last of the goods into the bag.

"You missed somthin." Daryl helpfully pointed into the fridge.

"We are not taking the head." Carl used his best 'Deputy Rick' voice.

"Naw, not the dead head..." Daryl chuckled at his own wit, "Under it. At the back."

Glenn turned back to the fridge and bent down to get a better view. "Huh..." He grunted and reached his arm in, between the shelves.

His arm was into the refrigerator up to his shoulder when the eyes on the severed head opened and the jaw started snapping at him. Glen threw himself back, knocking the fridge door out-of-the-way and landing on his ass.

"What the...?" Carl exclaimed at the racket Glenn was making.

"It moved!" Glenn pointed a shaky finger at the head.

"What?" Daryl hopped off the counter and strutted over to the fridge. "This?"

The thing rolled its eyes in his direction and opened its mouth as if it hoped to be able to get a good chomp from where it lay. Daryl picked up the spoon and jabbed the handle through the thing's eye socket.

"Ain't movin no more." Daryl said with an air of finality.


KK, off to read comics in bed for me!

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