Author's Note: There's going to be some sort of OOC-ness scattered about the story, just because of the alternate universe situation. Hopefully it's still believable.


Stepping nimbly, Arthur continued after the blood trail. He still didn't understand how a deer with two arrows in its chest could run this far without keeling over. It had left a thick path of blood, though, so surely it would be dead when he got to it.

"Help!"

He froze, his shoe crunching onto wet grass. Was that Belle? There wasn't exactly anyone else out here, so it must have been. Of course, there were always the voices.

That had sounded an awful lot like Belle, though. And if she was screaming for help, he couldn't dare take any chances.

Not bothering to find a clear path, he pelted headlong through the trees until the footpath finally came underfoot. Belle was nowhere to be found. Arthur was entirely sure he had gone in the right direction.

The realization of both of these things resulted in him running wildly around the trees shouting her name, but this soon proved to be a terrible searching strategy. Breathing in gasps he couldn't slow down, he returned to approximately the last place he had seen her. A more detailed inspection uncovered an entirely different blood trail. It was only drips and trickles at long intervals, so there wasn't much to follow, but it took all of his rational mind not to go sprinting in the first promising direction. If he was going to find her, he couldn't waste any time running nowhere.

He had left her all alone despite having hurt her, and now she could have been in real, honest danger because of him.

Struggling not to hyperventilate, he dropped to the ground, scrutinizing whatever hints could lead her way.


"So, what's the haul this time?"

Still squatting, Ludwig tossed the last of the backpack's contents on the floor. "Decent amount of jerky—and a few odds and ends—but the rifle still works, and there're a ton of bullets with it."

"Nice." His brother eyed the collection spread over the tile. "I'm guessing you're going to keep the gun?"

With a shrug, the younger man piled the sheets of jerky more neatly. "I wouldn't want a revolt on my hands. And if someone else got a hold of this, he'd actually be able to overpower me."

"So what, you're just going to keep it on you and not shoot anything?"

"I never said that." Ludwig slid a hand over the rifle. "I'd have to figure out how best to fire it, though, and there's not much to shoot that would be worth the effort."

" 'Kay." Gilbert's gaze slid to the other person in the room. "Hope you're not planning to keep all of the booty for yourself, though." He grinned, adjusting his sunglasses to get a better look at her.

Leaning towards the girl, Ludwig rested his arms on his knees. "I probably shouldn't. It could easily take a couple of years more before another girl comes through, and some of the single guys could get really pissed off in the meantime." He looked sideways at Gilbert. "Possibly one in particular?"

"Who, me?" Gilbert whipped off his sunglasses so his brother could see just how wide his eyes were. Ludwig rolled his own and looked back at Belle.

She wasn't exactly gorgeous, but she had a full chest and was quite a bit better than nothing. Hopefully she'd be all right with some usage, but it really didn't matter in the end. He wouldn't use unnecessary force, at least, and he could afford to make her a privileged member of the group otherwise. He already had supplies for everyone for forty-three weeks and two days, so he could factor her in with substantial rations without too much of a risk. There were still houses to raid around Austin, anyway, and sending a group there wasn't a lot of trouble.

So she was certainly a blessing, plain face or not.

"Keep an eye on her," Ludwig said, getting up and throwing the duffel bag over his shoulder. "I'm going to run the medical supplies to Marino's place."

"Yessir," Gilbert replied, planting his rear on the edge of the bed frame and squinting dutifully at Belle's face. She didn't seem to mind.

At the moment she was more concerned about whatever was crushing her brain. On some level, she did wonder what those voices had been saying, but she had enough problems already.


Belle's trail was gone.

It didn't end in a great pool of blood and her corpse, so that was a good thing. On the other hand, Arthur wasn't exactly an expert on tracking people. Whatever heavy shoe prints had been on the soil every once in a while were definitely gone—now the dried mud had given way to concrete and asphalt. He had good reason to think there wouldn't be many footprints and broken branches here.

After a moment, he looked up, just in case Belle was nearby but hadn't seen him. After another moment, he realized he was back in the neighborhood they'd passed earlier. But Belle certainly didn't seem like one to backtrack. She probably didn't end up here by her own choice, then.

Swallowing, he slowly stepped farther into the neighborhood. Now that he thought about it, the houses had seemed awfully tidy for places abandoned to the zombies. So—there were more people here. People strong enough to subdue Belle and take her away.

Perhaps he'd investigate the place a bit more stealthily.


Around noon, Belle opened her eyes. The sun glared at her with a vengeance, and her brain refused to stop pounding itself against her skull, but she pushed herself to start putting pieces together.

As she waited for the sun's cyan afterimage to fade from her vision, she took inventory. Her clothes didn't seem particularly torn up, but there were no straps over her shoulders. Cold seeped into her back from the ground, and a dull ache gnawed at her limbs until she rearranged them into a more natural position.

"Whoa!"

She blinked a few times to see an extremely pale man looking down at her through his sunglasses.

"Hey, Ludwig!" he called, turning over his shoulder. "She's awake!"

Tensing up, Belle tried to locate herself. Hanging above her was a rough, white ceiling with blurry, russet water spots. A bit off to her right, where the pale man had been sitting, lay an ornate wooden bed frame missing a mattress. To its side was a caved-in bed stand, the dotted wallpaper behind it mottled and trying to come off the wall bump by bump.

Nothing was near her, so she slowly turned her head to the other side. Just beyond the window's light, a large figure rose to its feet. She immediately linked it to the memory of the man who had taken her rifle, and her breath caught a bit.

He stepped closer, further matching the blur she'd registered earlier. Light blonde hair, which now proved to be slicked back, and a large frame with more than enough muscle to prevent him from fitting any definition of lanky. His clothes were a dull green, his eyes a peculiarly pale blue.

More worrying were the straps crossing his chest that quite clearly belonged to her rifle scabbard and duffel bag. Given his physical prowess, the only reason this incited more fear was because she did not have them.

His hands were empty, though, and his face was severe but not angry. She decided to carefully sit up. Her midsection ached and her head whirled, but she managed to sit upright without any objection from the man.

"Hello," he started brusquely, his voice sonorous. "My name is Ludwig. I am the leader of the survivors of this neighborhood." He gestured to the pale man. "This is my brother, Gilbert. You could call him my second-in-command." Lowering his arm, he leaned forward a bit. "And you are?"

She took in a deep breath as quietly as she could. "Belle."

"All right, Belle, nice to meet you." Ludwig paused to begin popping his knuckles one by one. "Now, I am going to explain the situation to you, and you will not interrupt me."

He glanced at Gilbert, who stepped in front of the window. There went one easy escape. While he wasn't as big as his brother, he certainly wasn't skinny. She would have to fight him to get past, and by then Ludwig would be able to step in. And she already knew from experience how that would turn out.

The younger brother cleared his throat, and she looked back towards him.

"While I'm mainly in charge of this group because of my strength, I also do my best to keep everyone provided for, safe, satiated. That's not as simple as getting food, though. One difficult problem is that some of us men are single, and the others understandably refuse to share."

Belle's back got quite a bit colder.

"So I'm very grateful an attractive young lady like you has come along. Don't misunderstand me—I won't allow anyone under my control to be cruel to you. Just realize you are now part of this group and must contribute in the best way you can. We will provide food, safety, and possibly some rarer commodities since I realize I'm asking a lot of you."

Belle exhaled. "What if I don't want to be part of this group?"

At once his forehead reddened. "You will not interrupt me!"

Cringing—that would have been loud if she didn't have a headache—she shut her mouth and swallowed. He was still standing right by the door, and his brother hadn't moved. Nothing else she had seen in the room seemed remotely similar to an exit.

"As I was saying—" Ludwig gave her a hard look—"you will be safe from the infected, any hostile passersby, and hunger. Plenty of us will also be willing to watch over you to ensure you do not leave. In fact, a meeting to determine the interested parties is assembling outside."

Saying this, he took a step forward, glancing past Gilbert. A short distance down the street, among neat rows of folding chairs, some of the villagers stood in clusters, chatting with each other. Chatting about who'd be the first to get a night with her, she guessed. The thought sent bile trickling up her throat.

"All right, get up," Ludwig said, turning back to her and holding out a hand. "This is all about you, so you have no excuse not to be present."

She got to her feet without touching him. The headache made her a bit unsteady, though, and Ludwig took the opportunity to seize her elbow with an icy hand. She growled subconsciously but went along as he led her out of the house. At the door were two serious-looking men in dirt-colored shirts—standing guard, she guessed. They bowed a bit to Ludwig as he exited and then followed him to the meeting, their eyes on Belle all the while.