Author's note-

I have began to introduce some new characters in this chapter. Some mild violence suggested but very infrequent throughout.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story.

Enjoy :D

Carl and Eileen eventually found a lone outhouse which they crept into. Carl took down the two elderly walkers as they entered and dragged them outside before closing the door and tying it closed with some spare rope that Eileen helpfully had in her mysterious bag of necessities. As it happens, Carl was yet to discover the rest of the contents of the bag and why she so desperately needed to go back and get it.

"It's small," she stated, almost disappointed.

He laughed. "What? Upset you couldn't clear out a convenient mansion or something?" S

he replied with a dark glare. "Yeah. Something like that."

"Well. It'll be getting dark soon. I hadn't realised that we'd been out looking all day. I haven't really eaten or drunk since I had some many tinned food a couple of hours ago. Oh, and some more of that water you gave me."

"I have more in my bag."

Nodding thankfully, he traveled over to where her bag was dumped in the corner to retried some before he was nudged over onto the floor by her. "What-"

"You can't just go into my bag!"

"You said-"

"Yeah. Sorry. My bag is private. Besides, I'm doing you a favor, so you can't just help yourself to my possessions." She picked up the bag slowly, taking out a half drunk bottle of water and throwing it onto the floor before him.

What is her problem? I mean, sure, there's privacy and then there's just plain spite. She didn't have to shove me in the ribs and chuck some water at me. C'mon man. Whatever you do, do not say anything. You'll just start another fight and the way things are going, I could really do with keeping whatever level of trust we both share. To be fair, I have made her trudge around all day in search of people she's never met before. But she agreed to do it, so I hardly think I deserve to be treated this way! It's like treading on egg shells around her...Just hold your tongue... "Thanks," he mumbled, rubbing his slightly aching ribs.

She didn't respond and instead found some books about fishing and bird watching. Ten or so minutes of silence later, she rolled half an apple, the other half that she had not eaten, to Carl who slumped against the wall scratching a plan of the next few days out.

"Eat it. And if you're not going to, pass it back, please," she offered a weak smile, distracted by the glorious information beheld in the text before herself.

He crunched on it for some time before reaching the core. He made to throw it to the side, but she caught him doing so in her peripheral vision and snatched it away from him.

"They'll be useful," she whispered and she picked the seeds from the center and gave it back to him. "You can eat the rest now." Eileen grabbed her bag and undid an empty, old Vaseline pot and placed the four seeds in. They landed upon a collection of other seeds with a slightly tuneful shake.

Still a little taken aback by her abrupt snatching, he smiled slowly. "Halves?"

"...okay..." He ripped off the stalk and they ate all the remains between themselves. It was a symbolic and rather uneventful first meal, but the silent exchange of somewhat satisfied looks was enough to stop them from quarreling for a while.

As the sun began to fall nearby, something that which they noticed through the closed blinds of the outhouse, Eileen grasped her bag and pulled out her pants.

"Carl...do you mind turning round for a sec, please?" she asked awkwardly.

He gave a dumb, vacant look. "Why?"

A look of raised eyebrows alerted him that she wanted to get changed and he quickly obliged turning himself to face the small cabinet filled with little picture frames. Each one was filled brilliantly, with vibrant images of what could only be the same two old men fishing together; exchanging alcoholic beverages; and kissing. The two of them must have been gay. As a young man growing up the in the apocalypse, Carl doubted he'd ever get time to comprehend love or deep affection, let alone experience it himself.

All that he knew of it was that was Glenn and Maggie and the suspicious circumstances of his own parent's relationship. He knew that love was a test of great courage and time. You would have be willing to make sacrifices, and as much as he understood this from wanting to protect family, he had never been quite prepared to do this for a romantic cause. The same way that Glenn was protective over Maggie when they went on runs.

As for his parents, well, that was difficult. A few months ago, Rick had taken the fatherly liberty of explaining how things went down. Obviously, the 'talk' was delivered in small discrete bits over the last few years, so Carl was able to piece together what he thought happened. Rick, his brave father, loved his beautiful, yet betraying mother, Lori. They got together one day and had him. Though as time went on, their relationship began to deteriorate. He knew that much from hearing their countless arguments, in which his father would be rendered silent in the hope that he would not upset his mother. Carl remembered the day when his father was shot: how they had looked each other in the eye before his mother insinuated that Rick did not care about the rest of the family.

He had gone to school that day confused and quiet, unenthusiastic about the games his friends wanted to play. Unenthusiastic for the lessons, which resulted in several telling-offs. And to top it off, he got the news from his mother that his father had been shot at work, leaving him to ball his eyes out. When this happened, he was very much preparing himself for the worst. And for a short bit of time, the worst came: the apocalypse began and his father never returned.

In the meantime, Shane took care of him and Lori. Which was fine at the time, until Carl was able to figure out that he may have been up to things with his Mother, a thought that made him feel uncomfortable, and worse, may have caused the birth of a sister which may or may not even be fully his. It angered him to his very core and made his mother's love for his true father questionable. She moved on pretty quickly.

His dad shot Shane. Then, at the prison, he shot his mom. Rick had informed him that before that happened, they had briefly considered a divorce, despite their situation not allowing for this change of the legality of their marriage. Still, his father, a respectable man, pledged to care for the baby, and tried his best to forgive the woman he still loved, but could never look at the same again.

Why did any of this have to happen to anyone? He cried in his mind. He let his head fall onto his knees as he seethed to himself.

Rustling behind him concluded and was succeeded by silence.

"Can I turn back round now?"

"Sure," she replied. She had kept on the top half of her clothes and exchanged the leggings, now crumpled to her left, for her candle-carrying pants.

"I guess you're prepared for adventure now, right?" he joked.

"Yup."

Is she always this dull or is she just trying her best to be?

"Are your group nice?" she blurted, instantly regretting her inquiry.

"Why'd you think I want to look for them?"

She shrugged. "...people change."

He studied her for a short moment before divulging. "They're nice, yes. Some of them haven't been. We dealt with them."

"How so?"

"Like you said," he paused. Rapid flashbacks of grueling terrors and villains stormed through his brain causing his brain to quake in his skull. So much blood and gore had passed but none more fragile then the friends he'd lost to those murderers. "People change, and they come and go for different reasons. But as far as we are aware, everyone with us is good. We've been this way for the last couple of years. We lost a preacher man not long ago. He was weak, but kind. It was sad, but inevitable."

"Did you know him well?"

He thought about it. Of course, he had saved Judith, Michonne and himself a long time ago. He was charitable, and while Dale was no longer about to act as the moral compass for the group, Father Gabriel offered cherished paraphrases of the Bible for hope. He was a comforting man and an excellent carer for Judith. And then, there was the event of the church in which he let all those people die. He was a changed man, but he never became a fighter. Perhaps this made him one of the truest people Carl had met. "I suppose so. He did some things he regretted, like all of us, but he was a good man. He was a good member of the group. He's about the only man of faith we've met, who stayed true to his beliefs of no violence."

"...which I assumed caused his death." Eileen was straight forward about her deduction. She knew she had grazed his soul right then, and her apologetic look got her forgiveness. Idiot! You're not some recluse! You know how to talk to people! The least you could have done was apologize for his loss, not make his old friend look like a fool.

"Precisely. We gave him a funeral with all we could find. Tears were shed, but none of us could escape the fact the we all saw it coming."

It was a shock at all that she listened, but she did so ever so well. He saw in her eyes, honestly and real empathy. Her genuine care about his life was the first real sign of friendship that had bloomed since their first encounter. It was a break from the arguing and stubbornness. She slowly nodded. "That sucks...losing someone close, that is. Anyway...got enough ammo?"

The change of topic was on the harsh side, but a relief at the same time. He checked the gun. "A little bit."

"I've still got two guns."

He grinned. "That's very generous,"

"Hey!" she chuckled lightly. "I never said I would give you one." His face drooped at the news. It was difficult to tell whether she was mocking him or being genuine at that stage. She was a difficult person to deal with. Her constant temperament changes were hard to keep up with. "I'm joking."

"Oh,"

She continued. "I'll make a deal with you. I rarely have to use these guns. I have probably used them more in the last day or so trying to save you than I have in the last month. So yeah, I've got loads of ammo. The point I am trying to make is...that I make good decisions. I'm not trying to come across as snobby, and I know it's your dad we're trying to locate. I propose that in exchange for letting me make a large fraction of the decisions we make-in terms of basic survival techniques, etc- you can get my gun. So long as you promise to follow me. If you do so, then you won't have to use up all my ammo-"

"Hang on," he held his hands up, unsure. "Why do you get to make them kinds of decisions?"

"Because, my apologies, but in the time I have known you, we have encountered a plethora of those rotters, and you have put yourself in unnecessary danger a couple of times. I would prefer it if I could make decisions on how I survive, since as much as I sort of want to help you... I don't trust my life with you."

"Rude," he scoffed. "I saved your life back there, ya know..."

"Yeah. You don't know me well, moron, and I don't want to tell you my whole back story, but I've been doing this kind of thing for two years now, so I would like to think I have a pretty good idea of how to loot, and play hide and seek with whatever nature has to offer. I wouldn't like to see myself dying of something like starvation, thirst, or freezing to death."

He leaned back. "Two years?" He was skeptical.

"Don't ask questions, please...like my bag, until I know you better, some things are going to be private."

Eileen felt incredibly selfish and rude, holding back such information when he had so trustingly told her of a death which had dented the paradigm of his group. She had no doubts that he had a much more grimmer past than what he had told her, but she felt compelled to tell him something and yet she could not do it. She just wasn't ready.

"Gotcha," he mumbled, pulling his hat over his eyes in relaxation.

Okay, tomorrow, I gotta search harder to find Dad. His thoughts became a foggy mist of far-fetched ideas and schemes in order to get his dad back.

"If what you say about your group is true, then I expect it won't take us long to find them. It's likely they're looking for you." She said gravely.

I just hope that they are.

Inside a very large room was a large, mahogany desk. Lounging on the computer chair behind the said desk was a woman, with a stern black bob-cut hairstyle, and a formal looking jumpsuit. It was black. Surrounding her, hundreds of photos and files hanging from walls, of expressionless people staring back at her.

Beside the desk, was a convenient espresso machine. It was tasteless that anyone could relax themselves in such an eerie office like space, yet she made it seem possible. Her beady eyes were blackened, sharpened, capturing every inch of the information posted around her. She said there, biting her chipped nails evaluating the information beheld around her.

A loud bang on the door to the room withdrew her attention and she shouted for them to enter. A cruel, and somewhat sentimental smile graced her face when her son and daughter both strode into the room, carrying new files in their hands.

Her daughter sported tamed, cascading, cherry red hair, and was nineteen years of age. Despite the lack of physical inheritance from her mother, she had the same keen intellect and fierceness that drove their current existence in this dead man-eat-other living man world. Her eagerness to live up to her mother's expectations drove the compound structure of their loving relationship. It ensured that they worked well as a team.

Her brother on the other hand, had inherited all manners of physical appearance. Dark hair, sharp facial features; he was handsome in one the respect that he was almost chiseled from lavish stone. His eyes however, were green and fruitful, a contrast to the rest of his look. He was seventeen, soon to be eighteen, and was everything his sister was not: thoughtful, at times gentle, and generous.

"Mom," the girl peeped, pushing her hair behind her shoulder. "Brother dearest and I bring you more files,"

"Excellent, Jasmine. How has Luca been getting on in Admin?"

Jasmine grasped her younger brother's arm encouragingly, smiling brightly. "Very well, Mom. He is very speedy when it comes to alphabetizing articles and profiles. I believe that he has been lacking ever so recently though." A brief look of terror on the reluctant son's face alerted his older sibling that what she about to tell his mother, was something which he would prefer untold. "He has been listening to music while he does his work." In that moment, he felt large amounts of disgust at his sister's sickly desire to be an angel.

Horrific silence struck. His mother studied him. Let it not be said that cheerful Luca disobeyed his mother during work. He wanted like his sister, to make her happy and achieve what she was hoping to, but he always felt intimidated by his mother ever since she had grasped control of this unit she ran. His mother gave him a pointed look. While she was proud of her daughter's loyalty and commitment, she had to focus herself on reprimanding her son from distracting himself from their ultimate goal.

"You have one job, Luca. You are to sort through files. I trust that this is not difficult,"

"No, Mom," he bowed his head.

"Then why must you listen to music?" she remained calm. Frighteningly so.

He gulped bravely. "I used to like music before the dead came back. I still do...I just- just thought it would be fun."

She stood up from her desk slowly. "...fun?...fun?" He did nothing but prepare himself for the shrill cry of frustration that was to come. "Fun is not allowed! Not when you have only just started work. I understand that your sister is telling the truth of your excellent work, but we are running a tight and strict business here. You are my son, and I...love you. However, if your sister, another member of staff, or I catch you tapping into the limited power without permission to listen to music again, then you will be punished accordingly."

Her sister forcefully snatched the files from his hands and placed them carefully on their mother's desk, giving her a sweet smile. "Here you go, Mom."

"Thank you, sweetie. Now return to your jobs. And Luca, do not disobey rules again," She said this with firm finality. Something inherently perverse was within her motherly, reprimanding tone. It went undetected by Jasmine, but was picked up by her son.

He remembered sadly what happened to the last member of staff caught lunching in the planning room. Well, in actual fact, he remembered not knowing what happened to him after he was caught doing this. The last thing he saw of him, after he was caught, was his impassive straight-face photo clipped to sealed file which he gave to his mother.

He knew what was going on around here, just not in extreme detail. He had rarely encountered those attacking from the grave before the set up of his mother's unit. Luca remembered saving his sister with a knife, but that was along time ago, and he was grateful for what they had gathered together. He just wished it could be less strict.

After watching her beautiful children turn on their heels and respectfully exit the room, she grabbed the files. A middle-aged woman, not much older than herself, was clipped to the front of the first one. Her face was darkened from the wear and tear she had been through. They had been kind enough to house her and feed her, and she was a very wise lady.

Valerie Freund, housewife come apocalyptic business woman, flipped open the top file.

Name: Alyssa White

Age:47

Health when found: Minor starvation and small breathing struggles. All rectified on April 27th 2014.

Participation in research: Given drug on August 9th 2014. Behavior stayed relatively normal compared to life before drug. Some sleep talking occurred.

Death: October 7th 2014

After death observations: No changes to behavior. Memory patterns lost. Met the same criteria as the rest of the undead. Put down before turning.

Other notes: questionable daytime twitching witnessed before and on the day of her death.

Smiling to herself about the progress of her team, Valerie put down the pile of notes reading for closer reading later, and leaned over to make herself a nice, warm cup of coffee.

Thanks for reading :D