Hello everyone, thanks again for reading.

Before we continue on with this chapter, I have a sort of shout out for ya'll:

If you guys haven't read "Accident or Grand Design" and its sequel "Home" yet, you need to. It's written by this amazing, nice, pleasant lady, ChooseJoy. Her writing is so good, when you go back to watch the show, you miss her OC. Everything in her story is real and believable and engaging. She's pretty much got the gist of all the Walking Dead characters and their actions. I urge ya'll to check it out. It's great.

Also, I changed the length of Charlie's knife; it's no longer six inches but now 12 inches, which is about the size of Merle's blade on his swiss-army hand. But.. I didn't actually go back and change it in the writing... If I have a lot of time later I will do that.

And now, onto the story.


Back at the hospital, Rick was organizing the group.

"Listen up, ya'll. We've been running low on supplies. Food, at least. And some of us look like we could do with some new shoes and clothes." He looked around at Carl's worn tennis shoes, one of the soles peeling off, and his tattered shirt; Glenn's holey pants and shoes with the missing ties; Maggie's ripped tank top; Beth and Carol's frayed sweatshirts and jeans.

"On our way here, we passed by that strip mall," Rick continued.

"But we already cleared that place out," Glenn interjected.

"Not all of it," Rick reminded him. "Remember, we hid the stuff we couldn't fit into the car in the back of the hair salon. That street had so many supplies we couldn't bring them all."

"What if someone took them already?" Carl asked.

"We hid them too well," Maggie replied. "And we spread them out; remember, Glenn and I hid some under that loose floorboard in the cafe. Just in case."

Rick nodded in agreement. "We need to make a run. Preferably by tonight; Judith's baby formula is almost out." They all looked at the sleeping baby in Carol's arms. "I think we put the extra baby stuff in the cafe as well."

"I'll go," said Michonne, who was leaning against a wall.

"Me too," Glenn said, and after a glance to Maggie she said she'd also go.

"That's all we need," Rick said. "You guys take the Hyundai. It has the most gas. And while you're there, see if you can get more. Bring the jugs with you."

The three nodded and went around the room, grabbing empty bags and the two empty gas holders, as well as their siphoning hose. They left quickly, waving at the group.

"Carl," Rick said, and Carl got up, adjusting his gun holster and checking his knife sheath, before putting on the sheriff's hat and leaving to go take watch.

Carol and Beth went over to sit next to Hershel, who was waking up from his nap, Carol still holding Judith. Rick went outside to take watch next to Carl. He sat down next to him in one of the couple of chairs they had brought outside from the cafeteria. They sat there quietly, watching the field and forest.

"Dad?" Carl asked eventually.

"Yes, son?'

"When The Governor attacked the prison the first time, why were you outside?"

Rick was silent, not knowing what to say. He debated telling his son- who put down his wife, who was there for her last breaths, who didn't know that Lori's body had been eaten- he debated telling him about his hallucinations. He looked around at the distant trees, staring as if he could almost see her glowing silhouette again.

"I don't know son," he said eventually, "I don't know."


The Governor strode through his camp impatiently. He walked up to the small hunting cabin his team had set up around, banging the door open and marching into the one-room hut. Martinez and Shumpert were hunched over a map on a table, debating quietly where to go for their next supply run. They both snapped up at the sound of the door, and straightened when they saw The Governor.

"Boys, we got ourselves a little complication," The Governor said. Both men stood to attention, Martinez warily eyeing The Governor's gun held in his hand.

"Follow me," The Governor said, turning to walk back out the door and down the wooden steps. He led the two through the small, temporary camp they had set up around the hunting cabin. Large trucks formed the perimeter, four armed men walking around on top of them, the underneath spaces blocked off with heavy metal grates. There was a handful of tents situated around the camp, the largest of which belonging to their leader.

The Governor led them around to the back of the cabin, where there was a small shed. A man stood guard outside, a shotgun held across his chest. The man nodded as the three passed through the now-unlocked door. Inside the small metal shed were a few gallons of gas, some spare tools, and a pole that supported the roof. Tied to the base of the post was a man. He was hunched over, and when The Governor pulled him up, Martinez and Shumpert could see that he was bruised and bloody. With the little light filtering in from the holes in the ceiling, they could also see that he was a black man, with a scruffy beard and a torn flannel shirt. The man glared up at them.

The Governor crouched down in front of the man. "These are my friends. We just want to help you. If you help us, maybe we can help you."

The man on the floor spat at The Governor. "Like hell. If you want to help me so bad, untie me and let me be on my way."

"Well, now, we can't do that," The Governor said with a little laugh. "When our people found you, you tried to kill us. We can't have you hurtin' my men, now can we?" The Governor shook his head sadly. "But, we can sure use your help and your skills around here. My people were recently attacked, and we need to do all we can to fortify ourselves in case of retaliation."

The man looked up at The Governor. "Gimme one good reason."

The Governor sighed and stood up, pacing around the dirt floor. Martinez and Shumpert drew back out of his way. "When we found you, you had a pretty nice little set up, didn't you? Kept yourself safe. With your methods, we could easily keep many people safe, couldn't we? Now, we found you on a roof, shooting your head off at us, and you gravely injured three of my men. In case you hadn't noticed, I can't really afford to spare any men right now."

The Governor crouched down in front of the man again. "But, with your strategies, I can stock up on muscle, and keep everyone safe. But even with more men, I'm going to need weapons and ammunition..."

The man met The Governor's one good eye. "...What are you saying?"

The Governor stared down at the man. "I'm saying, you all by yourself up there on that roof, shooting anything that moves, you must've had some back up bullets stored somewhere. In fact," The Governor leaned closer to his prisoner, "I think you had a whole stash. But you seem to have some wicked skills when it comes to booby traps, my friend," the man sneered at the term, "so I think you have that stash well protected. And now you see my problem, and how you can help."

The man looked up at The Governor. "And I'm going to tell you how to get to that stash because..."

The Governor leaned forward and a wicked gleam lit his only eye, "Because if you don't," he hissed through his teeth, "I will make the rest of your living life hell on earth. And if you die before telling me how to get in there, I will push your shambling corpse through your sick maze and let it take all the traps on by itself. I will not rest until those weapons are mine." He sat back on his heels and said in his normal, calm tone, "so either way, I win. But I suggest you take the easy route, and just tell me how to get into your little lair without severe consequences. That route involves less pain on your end and is much easier for us all." He stood up. "I'll give you time to think. I'll be back in an hour for your answer. And you best pray you have the strength to swallow your pride and tell me straight up how to navigate through your traps."

"I'll tell you straight up to go fuck yourself," the man hissed back.

The Governor laughed and signaled to Martinez and Shumpert. "I like you. I hope you choose the easy path. We can always use men like you. See you in an hour, Morgan."

And with that The Governor walked back out the shed, Martinez and Shumpert flanking him, Morgan cursing after him.


When Glenn, Maggie, and Michonne returned to the hospital, everyone was ecstatic with their findings. Once again, they had food and plenty of water, and this time, they had new clothes and shoes as well. Not only were they new, unripped, and hole-less, but they were clean. Carol and Beth laughed weakly as they inhaled their new shirts, and Carl quickly exchanged his old, ratty sneakers for the new, whole ones Maggie had brought back in his size. Everyone was overjoyed with their finds, and everyone vowed to take extra-special care of their new garments. Though, of course, they all knew that they would get torn, dirty, and ruined very quickly in this new world.

"I didn't think you guys would manage to find everything in one run," Rick said after pulling on his new, clean undershirt.

"Well, there was the small clothes store," Glenn replied. "That street was untouched. It was a gold mine!"

Maggie nodded in agreement. "It was exactly the same as we left it- completely undisturbed. I can't believe no one's been through there. We got as much stuff as we could fit into the Hyundai. We'll be good for a month. At least."

Michonne nodded as well. She had found a newer, less worn pair of combat boots in her size. She had also found another paper mache cat, which she had already put discreetly next to her old one beside her bed. She couldn't help but agree with the others; this run had been the most satisfying in a long time. They would be stocked for weeks, which was a rare thing in this new world. In fact, it was just as rare as finding an intact strip mall. Michonne was just slightly discomforted by this fact; it was almost too rare. She kept her suspicions to herself; after all, who would waste the supplies on stocking up a street so they could thrive?

Charlie and Daryl hadn't returned yet, though it was well past dark outside. Michonne was on watch, and as Rick lay in his hospital bed, he couldn't help but let his thoughts stray to the newcomer. Who was she? Where had she come from? Who had she lost? He wasn't worried that they weren't back yet; Daryl almost never took one-day hunting trips. Rick just hoped they were still out because they had found some big game, and not for any troubling reasons. He rolled over, hoping that they would return soon. He needed to discuss fortifying the hospital with Daryl, just in case The Governor somehow found them. He knew good things rarely lasted long in this world, and he knew their time was running out before something disastrous had its chance to happen.

When he finally drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but dream of Lori.


Well. Hope that tides you over till the next update.

At first, this was going to be the eighth chapter, but I got stuck on the other one, so now this is the seventh. But don't worry; I'll have the next one out soon.

Oh, and I really encourage you guys to check out that story!

-the shadow-light