If I may say so, I'm incredibly proud of myself for all these consistent updates. It's pretty unusual for me, actually. So, I realized I had never established any sort of timeline for this story. It picks up after the season 2 finale. So as cool as the prison is, they won't be going there - at least not for now. I may decide to use it later, depending on where the story goes. You're starting to see who's still a part of the group, and the next chapter will lay it all out, group-wise. I feel like I had more to say, but I can't think of it now. In that case, please sit back and enjoy the fourth installment.

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Addison staggered from house to house, searching in vain for something – anything – to eat. The hungry rumbling in her belly had stopped days ago, replaced by just a dead hollowness. The pack that she had lost to a Roamer during the attack on the rest stop had contained all the food. That had been… five days ago? A week? It was so hard to count the days anymore. The sun came up and went down and every day was the same: a struggle to survive. Addison wasn't too sure she could even do that for much longer. She imagined she could feel her body wasting away from the inside.

Before she could stop the train of thought, she supposed that this might be what it felt like to be a Roamer. A fever raging inside until you became an empty shell, feeling nothing but constant, ravenous hunger. Death by starvation, she mused, would be preferable.

Except, Addison realized with a heavy heart, she wouldn't stay dead. No matter how she died, she would come back. The first time she had seen it, Addison nearly let off a round into her own head right then and there.

A group of four guys, in their late twenties maybe, were looting the houses in the neighborhood she had taken refuge in. She knew there were other survivors in the area, but these men were new.

A barrage of gunfire abruptly shattered the silence. Addison chanced a peek over the window sill of the house she'd been staying in. A group of Roamers were shuffling down the street toward the men. The men took no notice of where they were aiming; their automatic weapons, no doubt stolen from an overrun military post, sprayed bullets through Roamers and windows alike.

Two houses down, a large picture window burst into thousands of shards. Addison heard a woman scream and then saw her flee the house. The men paid no attention, continuing to cover the area in a shower of bullets. Addison watched as the woman stopped in her tracks halfway across the yard. She appeared to be shivering, but then the front of her pale yellow shirt began to turn red. She pitched backward, tumbling over a ceramic birdbath, and was still.

It took several more minutes until the men looked satisfied with the carnage in front of them. The Roamers had piled on top of each other as they were brought down. Nothing in the pile moved. The men clapped each other on the back, congratulating a job well done. Then they climbed into their dark blue F-150 and gunned it up and over the mass of corpses. The tires flung bloody bits into the air, creating a gory rain as it splattered back to the ground.

Clearly, the place was no longer safe. More Roamers would be drawn by the intense gunfire. Addison gathered her meager belongings and left through the front door. Walking down the sidewalk, she couldn't help but pause as she came up to the woman who'd been gunned down. The formerly yellow shirt was riddled with holes. Her blood had not so much blossomed out into the shirt as simply drenched it. Addison's gaze slowly moved up to the woman's face. Had she not seen the body, Addison could have believed the woman was merely sleeping. She crouched down next to the body, brushing a lock of brown curly hair out of the woman's face.

Nothing could have prepared her for what happened.

The dead woman's eyes shot open and Addison screamed. A clammy hand grabbed her arm, pulling her closer to the woman's gnashing teeth. Addison reached with her free hand and lifted a broken chunk of the birdbath. Raising it high above her head, Addison brought it down with a revolting wet thud onto the woman's head. She felt the grip loosen on her arm and tugged herself free, shaking with the surging rush of adrenaline that disappeared as quickly as it had come.

There was no escape in death, unless it was a head shot. Addison wasn't sure that she could actually go through with opting out. There was a whole other level to death when it became a suicide. Starvation, eaten alive, shot by another trigger-happy survivor – those were all ways to go without control. Suicide? Nothing more personal than killing yourself. Besides, even if Addison could do it, she didn't have a gun anymore and she sure as hell wouldn't have the strength to plunge her knife into her own skull.

'Better dead dead than Roamer,' said a voice in the back of her head.

Addison clenched her fists. 'There was nothing we could have done; we were overwhelmed,' she snapped back at the voice.

'You had a chance. You could have done it and ended it all before it even happened.'

'He was my brother!'

'And now he's a monster. Coward.'

Addison felt her nose begin to tingle, the way it always did right before she cried. She furiously wiped at her eyes before any tears could spill over. Taking a moment to compose herself, Addison leaned against a tree in a front yard. She thumped the back of her head softly against the rough bark, wondering if it would be best to just sit down and let the inevitable happen.

'It's only fair,' the voice piped up. She didn't argue with it. It was obvious that the area had been picked clean. What food had been there was eaten, taken, or spoiled. Addison ached all over, and just the prospect of continuing on made her head spin.

So she sat down.

Addison had no idea how long she was out for. The survivor in her, though greatly diminished at this point, woke her. Someone was walking down the street behind her. Addison clenched the handle of her knife, but didn't pull it all the way out yet. The fat trunk of the maple she was leaning against hid her from view. She reluctantly got to her feet, careful to stay hidden. It didn't sound like a Roamer, whoever it was. The steps were even and strong, as if they had a purpose. Addison sighed and risked a look around the tree.

The man's sharp eyes caught her movement immediately. "Hey!" he said in a harsh whisper as she tried to slip behind the tree again. His steps quickened, getting closer. Addison pushed her knife back into its sheath; she had seen the man's shotgun. Although she didn't get the best look, Addison was fairly sure it wasn't Asshole. "What are the odds," said the man, his voice practically right beside her.

Addison flinched and looked up at him. Then she shook her head, rolling her eyes. "All right, is this some kind of joke? There's an entire hell-filled world out there, yet we always seem to be occupying the same tiny part of it."

The man, who was now from both the town and the rest stop, smiled. "Maybe it's a sign?"

Addison snorted. "Sure, maybe. If you believe in that sort of thing. I'd call it an incredibly weird series of chance encounters." She leaned against the tree again, feeling spent as the adrenaline from the man's arrival went away.

"You don't look so good," he observed.

"Pretty sure we've all looked better," Addison muttered at the ground.

The man studied her. Finally, he asked, "How long has it been since you've eaten?" Addison merely shrugged in response. The man sighed. "Join us."

Addison rolled her head to the side so she could look at him again. "Like I said before, I don't want to be in a group."

"You'll die out here on your own." His blue eyes searched her face. She simply shrugged again. The man ran a hand through his dark hair. "You saved my boy. The least I can do is give you some food and a safe place to rest, if only for a little while." Addison sighed but said nothing. "After that, you'll be free to stay or go. But please let me repay my debt to you."

Addison considered his plea, chewing on her thumbnail. Her survival instincts won out. "Fine." The man gave her another smile, taking a gentle hold of her elbow to help support her back out of the neighborhood.

"Our camp's just outside this suburb," he told her. "I'm Rick, by the way. I can't thank you enough for saving Carl at that rest stop. He's got an unfortunate habit of not listening when we tell him to stay in the car."

Addison nodded. "I saw. It was no problem," she added, brushing off his gratitude. "I'm sure that Asian guy could have handled it if I hadn't beaten him to it."

"Glenn, yes," Rick said. "But it was you." He took her across a front lawn and through another backyard, cutting to the right of the neighborhood. He glanced down at her. "So, you have a name I can use to introduce you?"

"It's Addison."

"Glad to meet you, Addison."

The two walked in silence until they reached the limit of the suburb. Addison saw a thin trail of smoke rise up between a small circle of vehicles. Rick guided her around a green hatchback and into the center of camp. The group was already gathered around the smoldering coals, chatting quietly as they ate their dinner. When Rick and Addison approached, they fell silent one by one.

Rick cleared his throat to address the group. "The neighborhood's pretty well cleaned out, so we won't stay here past tomorrow. However –" Rick put a hand on Addison's shoulder, "—I did find Addison, and some of you may remember her from previous encounters during the past few weeks. She needs food and a safe place to rest, which is the least we can do after she saved one of our own. After that, I've left it up to her whether or not she wants to join us. Please help her with anything she needs, because we are in her debt."

The group nodded their acceptance of Rick's instructions, all except one. Addison had been trying to avoid looking in his direction, but she let herself have a glance. There was a dark scowl on Asshole's face.

"Bullshit," he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. "She ran away; she don't deserve our help." Addison tried to ignore the sting of his angry words.

"Daryl," a middle-aged woman with close-cropped graying hair said softly, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. Ass– Daryl – jerked his arm away, standing up. With one last glare at Addison, he stalked off behind a white and red truck and disappeared.

Addison heard Rick sigh tiredly beside her, "He… takes some getting used to."

She gave a short, humorless laugh. "I've noticed."

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So Addison's a part of the group now. We're that much closer! Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and most importantly reviewed! I'm 100% serious when I say that getting those reviews helps me to write faster. So drop me one? :) Love.