Chapter Three

It'd only been about ten, fifteen minutes since Dave had left with Daryl and the others on the supply run, but he was already thinking about his boys, and how he wanted to back at the prison. The feeling soon subsided when his subconscious told him that they'll be okay, and besides this was going to be good for him. To be out in the open, if you could ignore the hordes of walkers just walking around aimlessly, mindlessly searching for their next meal.

The surrounding areas still looked beautiful though, the vibrant green-leaved trees, the tranquillity of it all, except for the sound of Daryl's motorcycle, and the cars following behind them.

It called Dave to reminisce memories from the past; him and Rick on their day-offs, which were few, taking Carl out on a picnic of all things, watching him play in the kids area of the park while they lay together on the blanket, the food they'd either made or packed set beside them, talking about this and that, and just enjoying the day with each other.

He sure missed those days. Hell, everyone missed those days.

It took them most of the morning, but they eventually arrived at the "spot" Daryl had mentioned back at the prison, Dave seeing it as a small supermarket ironically named "The Big Spot" which had been fenced off, and had several tents with the red cross on them scattered within it, probably a safe zone at one point held by a small militia group or something to that effect.

As Daryl approached the chain-linked fence with Bob by his side, chatting amongst themselves while Dave helped make sure that everyone had everything they needed out of the cars before they all gathered around to join them.

"So they all just left?" Dave heard Bob ask Daryl before Sasha answered for him, "Just listen…" which they all did, and could hear the sound of music playing in the background somewhere within.

Michonne smirked, "You drew them out."

"We put up a boom-box three days ago, Glenn rewired it with two car batteries."

"Alright, let's make a sweep," Daryl suggested, heading through the hole first with his crossbow out in front of him, ready for any surprise walkers, "Make sure it's safe, and grab what you can. We can come back in a few days for more."

Everyone was on edge as they scoped the area out, checking for stray walkers and, doubtingly, any survivors that might be hiding out here. Tyrese, with his AK-47, looked inside of the zipped-up medical tents to find nothing, but walker corpses. He shook his head, and walked on.

Michonne, with her arm over her shoulder, her hand lightly gripping her prized katana she had holstered, ready for any surprise attacks, but thankfully she was met with none.

Dave, meanwhile, sauntered toward one of the other tents with "Rambo" held up to his chest, ready to take down anything that tried to make a grab for him. Inside the tent, even with it left zipped open, absolutely reeked of death, rotten flesh and the like, and he couldn't, but gag at the smell.

It has been a long time, he said to himself as he tried to take in some deep breaths, but with the smell, it was proving difficult, but he managed to regain some composure. He hadn't smelt something like that since Woodbury. The walkers that gathered outside the prison fence didn't count. They weren't up close and personal. The ones littering the ground were, and Dave let out a sharp sob as he saw one of the corpses was just a little girl, barely Carl's age, causing him to look away.

Come on Dave, get yourself together. You don't and you're going to end up just like her! His voice told him, but strangely, it sounded an awful lot like Rick's.

With Rambo still gripped in his hand, he began to search through the boxes, hoping against hope that he'll find some medicine of any kind. They were running low, and they needed all the luck they could find.

As luck would have it, he'd found some in the form of pill bottles, tablets, you name it, it was there. Little did he know, the corpse girl he was just thinking about, began to move. One eye was dangling from her eye socket while both her legs were broken, having to crawl to where Dave was standing. He was too immersed in finding the jackpot in medicine that he didn't notice her crawling along toward his foot.

All of a sudden, Dave got this weird feeling, like someone was watching him or worse, creeping up on him and, with Rambo held back up to his chest, he slowly turned around, not making any sudden movements or noises, seeing the dead girl about to grab his leg, her jaws wide open ready to take a chunk out of it.

Oh no you don't! Raising the knife, he sliced it vertically through the air, stabbing the blade right through the back of her head, silencing the walker for good. Crying over a dead little girl was one thing, but if it came alive and was trying to take a chunk out of you, that was a completely different matter.

Knowing that she wouldn't be coming back alive, he went round making sure that the other walkers were put down permanently before returning to gathering the meds.

It wasn't until Sasha had called to him that he realized that he'd been in there for quite some time. He'd been cataloguing them, making sure that the ones he took back with him were the ones they'd need the most. He'd leave the rest for next time, like Daryl had said, they'd be back in a few days anyway.

He packed the meds that he deemed important, and left the tent, heading cautiously toward the store, seeing Daryl, Michonne and Zack laughing about something one of them must've said, probably Zack. He'd been trying to guess what Daryl did before the world turned to shit and, as of yet, hadn't got it right yet.

Truth be told, Dave had been thinking to himself about it lately, but all that he'd come up with were either stereotypical or didn't suit him at all so he didn't bother to join in guessing unless it ended up insulting him or something.

It was at that moment that he saw the walkers approaching the window where Daryl and Zack had been sitting on its sill, and knew that it was time to flush them out of the store.

They took out the ones by the window in quick succession, Tyrese dragging them out and piling them up a ways from the automatic doors with the help of Bob and Zack.

"All right, we go in, stay in formation for the sweep. After that, you all know what you're supposed to look for. Any questions?" Sasha enquired, taking point.

Everyone shook their heads, heading into the store as quietly as possible while staying in formation, Dave hearing Tyrese say, "Was there ever a time that you weren't the boss of me?" to which Sasha responded, "You had a few years before I was born."

It made Dave smile, siblings joking amongst each other, made him think of his, especially Matthew his twin brother, remembering the strong connection he had with him, what all twins experience with their other half. He smiled at the memories of him and Matt growing up, the trouble they used to get into, the fights, and the laughs. He wished that he was okay, that the rest of his family were okay, and that they'll one day see each other.

Meanwhile, back at the prison, Rick had set off into the woods to check on their snares, both his gun and his knife in their respected holsters. The council wanted him to be safe, and if that was what they wanted, then have it they shall.

A few minutes later, he'd come across the first snared animal. It had been eaten by the walkers, like a cloud of locusts eating everything in sight, the animal was left bare, just bone accompanied by flies.

Shit!

There was nothing he could do, but soldier on to the next snare, and pray that the walkers hadn't eaten through that.

Trekking through the dense forest, boots crunching on fallen branches, hands prying away branches that threaten to scratch as he passed by, thinking about whether it was a good idea checking the snares on his own or having someone accompany him.

Too late now, he thought, and he suddenly stopped in his tracks at what he saw a couple of yards in front of him. A wild pig, a large one too, was currently lying on its side, not moving, but Rick could still hear it snorting from where he was standing. It seemed to be entrapped, but not by any of their snares. Was someone else hunting in these woods besides them?

He was just about to approach it when someone came from the side of the pig, and knelt down beside it. Rick quickly hid behind a large tree, peering around it to get a better look at them. By the way it walked, it was most certainly a walker.

From what he could gather, it was surely a woman; large dark hair that fell past her shoulders, a somewhat petite form whether from the lack of food, Rick didn't know, and was wearing drab clothes that suggested had not been washed in quite some time.

Knowing now that the food would be tarnished, Rick decided to head back to camp, and plant some more snares another time.

Just as he was about to walk away, a branch cracked underneath his foot, and he jerked to a halt, hoping that the walker didn't hear the noise as it devoured the pig. However, what happened next threw Rick for six. It talked!

"Wait. Please. Please? Please, help me," the woman pleaded, and Rick knew straight the way that this was no walker, but a survivor, just like him and the others out here.

"I know you don't know me, I get that, but can you please help me get this to my husband? We haven't eaten in days." She just had to add that last part, as though she knew he wouldn't help her. He would've, probably, but he what made him hesitate was the question on anyone's mind who was in a similar situation.

How can you trust someone you don't even know? For all Rick knew, she was luring back to her camp where the rest of the group would jump him, take all of his stuff, kick the living shit out of him and leave him for the walkers. You just don't know.

She also had to say the word husband, making him think of Dave. He'd only been gone a few hours and he was missing him like crazy. He just hated the fact that he wouldn't be able to find out if he was okay or not until he got back from the supply run. His heart dropped at the mere thought of him turning up injured or worse, dead or bitten.

He shook his head, as though it would help get rid of the thought, before his attention was back on the dishevelled woman, pleading with her sad, puppy dog chocolate brown eyes that looked almost black to Rick.

He approached her slowly, rummaging into his sachet whilst looking from left to right, making sure that no-one was going to get the drop on him if it was a trap or any stumbling walkers for that matter.

He grabbed the sandwich wrapped in tin foil, and handed it to her, "Here." When she didn't make a grab for it, he took a step forward, urging her to take it, "Go ahead."

The woman reached out, her dainty hand outstretched as she eventually took the wrapped-up food, and responded in a voice so soft, Rick wouldn't've heard it if he wasn't listening, "Thank you."

As Rick studied her, he could see that she was probably about Dave's age, if not slightly older, and she had this air about her that Rick couldn't quite put his finger on it, the faraway look in her eyes only sealed his opinion of her.

After a moment of silence, she pocketed the food in what appeared to be her husband's coat, and asked again in a soft voice, "Do you have a camp around here?"

Rick took a second to decide whether it was or wasn't a good idea to tell her before deciding on the former, with a little hesitation, "Yeah," he answered simply, leaning from one leg to the other, his eyes still watching the surrounding area for any surprises.

"Could we possibly come back with you?" She stopped to look at the ground again before letting a deep sigh, "We've been doing... very badly on our own."

"I'd have to meet him. I need to ask him some questions, both of you."

"What questions?"

"Just three. When we get there."

The woman only nodded.

"Have you got a gun on you?" She slowly shook her head at his question. "Can I make sure?" He asked, she nodding her head again.

Rick reached out and touched up both her arms to check if she hadn't concealed anything in her sleeves before patting up her back and sides, not needing to do her legs as she was wearing a long beige-coloured skirt which Rick figured was once white, but was now caked in what appeared to be mud? Dried blood? Quite frankly he didn't want to know.

"Ha," he uttered under his breath when he fished out a knife out of the holster which was wrapped around her slight waist, which had a small blade with jagged edges, but could still do a lot of damage.

"Look, I don't know you, so I'm just gonna tell you this. You try anything – anything - you're gonna be the one who loses," he added, his voice stern, to the point, wanting to intimidate the unkempt woman just enough so she knew that he meant business.

She whispered again, "I don't have anything else to lose."

Rick stood upright, head shaking right to left as he said, "No, you do." He then passed her back her knife, "Go ahead." He urged her, she again reaching out to take it before holstering it.

He gestured her to lead the way, following shortly behind, wiping away the sweat that had formed on his forehead from that intense moment. No-one had ever made him feel that tense since…his encounter with the Governor…