I had decided a total of an hour ago that this was taking entirely way too long. If wasn't for the many treks through the woods from the hunting trips with the Dixon brothers I'm sure I'd be complaining of aching feet and a stich in my side by now, but now I was accustomed to it. As it was, Daryl and I had corralled to the head of our little group as the others were being too slow for our liking. Daryl tromped along the path just as moody as ever and I kept in time at his side. Glenn, being the one closest to our level of stamina, was several paces behind us with Rick not far behind and T-Dog bringing up the rear with panted breaths and uneven shuffles.

We had slowed down from our jog to walk for a while, no thanks to the others who were having trouble keeping up. I had noticed Daryl roll his eyes in annoyance, but nonetheless slowed down to a fast walk when Rick asked him to wait up for them. I had slowed my steps beside him, not even bothering to hide my own twisted expression of distaste. Although I understood, I felt rushed with the need to return to camp before all hell broke loose. Again.

Not long after we left the edge of Atlanta did darkness fall farther which was another reason why Daryl, and subsequently me, had taken the lead. The fading light provided minimal visual power, but to anyone that wasn't Daryl it was still getting harder to see. I'm pretty sure that if we kept walking like we were, we'd make it back to camp by the time darkness fell completely and I thought that would be taking too long. That is if we didn't get lost, but we kept on, trusting in the redneck's undeniable skill.

"Hey, Dexter, keep up. Startin' to lag behind," I heard Daryl suddenly call back to me. In my thinking I had apparently become slower and now walked between Glenn and Daryl. Somehow my eyes had even drifted down to stare at his rather well sculptured backside while in my own little world. The man didn't turn back to me fully to address me, but he did turn his head slightly over his shoulder in order to be heard regardless of the dead silence surrounding us.

Grumbling in annoyance I gave in and quickened my pace, which had now turned into a stomp, to place myself once again at Daryl's side. As his legs were much longer than mine, his steps seemed much more leisurely and I secretly cursed my short limbs and the hurried steps I had to use to stay with him. My face contorted into a scowl that would have rivaled the redneck's and it caused the scrape on my face to sting a little as my glasses brushed against it, making my scowl deepen.

"Do you even remember what my real name is?" I snapped irritably. I'm sure I looked like a child throwing a temper tantrum, but I didn't care. It wasn't far from the truth really, only my pride and minor amount of maturity stopped me from snapping at him more harshly.

"I dunno. Mindy 'r somthin'," he shrugged and I gave an offensive grunt.

To be honest I was probably more moody than I should have been, but I blame my temper on my German heritage. Quick to anger and slow to sedate; even with alcohol. Give me some whiskey or rum and I'll drink the night away until I forget how to stand and suddenly think a pillow is my personal blow-up doll.

"It's Max," I grumbled after a few moments of my quiet seething. Honestly, it was three fucking letters. How hard was it to forget?

"Oh yeah," I heard him mumble, not sounding interested in the slightest. In the corner of my vision I could see him adjust the strap of his crossbow on his shoulder. "Is it short for somethin' or were ya just a butch kid?"

I snorted and rolled my eyes, almost tripping in the process as a rather large rock stuck out from the ground. "Why the sudden interest? You never gave a shit before."

"Still don't," he replied. "But I'm bored." I saw his head turn over his shoulder again to look at the three men farther behind us. "And these sorry fucks ain't any entertainin'."

"Yippy for me," I muttered sarcastically.

There was a pause where we were silent and again he was the one to break it. "So, you gonna tell me or what?"

I gave a long sigh, exaggerating the annoying effort that the task was. "It's short for 'Marigold Amelia Xenathora'. Hence 'Max'." Instantly Daryl's strides came to a halt as did the others' and I was the only one left walking. I went a few steps more before also stopping and turning to see their confused faces. Daryl's was the most comical and I couldn't stop myself from bursting into laughter, my hand being the only thing to mask the volume of it.

"Jesus, guys, I'm kidding," I laughed out with a shake of my head after my initial fit of giggles had passed. Each man either rolled their eyes or shook their head with small smiles as they continued walking to catch up with me. Daryl was at my side once again as we began to ascend the hill. "It's actually Maxine." Daryl gave me another look, one that curled the corner of his lip up. "I know; fucking ugly right? That's why I like being called Max."

"I prefer callin' ya Dexter."

"And I prefer calling you Robin Hood."

"I ain't no tight-wearin' fag," he bit out.

"Never said you were, but you're the one with the crossbow and arrows and shit," I shrugged and smiled when I saw the sneer on his face out of the corner of my eye, my lenses just able to allow me to see it clearly.

"So?"

"So that makes you Robin Hood and me your sidekick, Little John."

"You're fuckin' weird."

"Don't hate the playa, hate the game, bro."

"I think we could go a little faster," Rick suddenly cut in as he quickened his pace to a jog, dispelling any farther argument that could have occurred between me and the redneck. Both Rick and Glenn passed by us, the Asian throwing me a small smirk as he caught up with the officer. I stayed by Daryl, surprise surprise, and settled ourselves in the middle easily. T-Dog's heavy breathing could be heard to my left and I had the incredible urge to throw an inhaler at the larger man.

Not long after we started jogging had darkness fallen completely, the moon becoming our only source of light. And it wasn't much longer after that we began to hear the screams from where we knew the Quarry was just around another curve, followed almost immediately by gunshots. The five of us stopped, staring at the area that had a small orange glow coming from it before Rick mumbled a muttered curse and we were off again at full sprint to the camp.

I pulled my machete and revolver from their respective places on my person, my heart throbbing loudly in my chest not only due to the exercise, but the anxiety I felt upon hearing the shouts of terror. To me it felt like we couldn't move fast enough to get to camp; the shots continued to be fired, screams were cut short and then drowned out my more. I had no doubt that a horde had found them and it caused a knot of sickness to form in my stomach.

"Everybody stick together!" Rick shouted as we leapt through the trees. The edges of camp could barely be seen from the fire's glow, the light itself flickering from one body to the next, dead and alive, passing across it.

It seemed like forever before we finally burst from the treeline and into the camp. Immediately more shots echoed around the area mingling with the screams of fear and shouts of agonizing pain. I made sure to stay close to Daryl, the redneck being the one I trusted most, and he didn't complain as I did so, especially not after I jammed my machete into the head of a Walker that was sneaking up on his side. A nod of gratitude was passed my way and I nodded in return before cocking back the hammer of my revolver and shooting a Walker approaching me from the right square in the forehead.

It continued like this for the next several minutes, but gradually the cracking of gunfire ceased and all that was left was the sobbing and heavy panting of those still alive. Having being separated from Daryl near the end, I made my way back to him while stepping over bodies and keeping my eyes on them to make sure none of them sprang back up and nibbled my ankles. When I reached Daryl's side, his eyes were scanning the area wildly, his shotgun held tightly in his hands.

I narrowly missed getting the butt end of the damn thing in my stomach as I came up next to him and swore when I had to take a quick step back to avoid getting hit. "Damn, Robin Hood! Calm your tits, it's just me," I exclaimed, my hands coming up in surrender as the redneck swung around to face me. In my right hand my empty revolver sat useless in my grip and in my left my bloody machete.

As Daryl's frantic expression calmed somewhat I could hear Rick calling out for his family as were a bunch of other people. Some, like Andrea, were hunched over their fallen loved ones crying their hearts out. It made me glad to know that Daryl was alright as I always knew he'd be.

"Thought we lost ya for a moment there, Dexter," he teased finally as he stepped forward to give me a lazily light slug of his fist to my shoulder. I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped me and I should have felt guilty for it considering how much death and destruction that had just occurred, but I ignored it.

"Can't get rid of me that easily," I chuckled and returned the gesture that for him was as close as a friendly hug I would get. However the gentle moment that had passed was suddenly shattered when Andrea's cries of anguish began to echo around us, calling her sister's name.

Looking over I watched as the blonde woman hunched over her fallen sibling, tears running down her pale cheeks and bloodied hands gripping and shaking at Amy's lifeless body as if it would somehow bring her back. Tears of my own welled in my eyes at the sight. I might not have liked Andrea that much, but Amy was a sweetheart and my chest ached for them. I could only imagine my reaction being identical if I had witnessed my own bother or sister's deaths, but I was stuck in Georgia and unable to look for them to see if they were even still alive. As it was, I'd probably cry like that if it was Daryl in Amy's place.

I couldn't watch anymore; the scene was all too depressing. Tearing my eyes away from Andrea and tuning out her screams I looked over to the little group that had gathered in front of the RV to see who all had survived. Morales and his family, Rick and his, Dale, Jim, Shane, Jacquie, T-Dog, Glenn, Carol and her little girl, Daryl and myself. Looking farther passed them I scanned the dead that were mingled with the Walkers. Aside from Amy there was Evelyn, a nice old lady that had taught me how to properly wash clothing, Ben, her husband, Sandy and Greg, two siblings that had been fairly decent to talk to, and many others that I hadn't even bothered to learn the names of. Now I wish I had. Or maybe not; seeing them pass would be a lot harder to take that way.

Looking over at Daryl I was relieved yet again that he was there. If it wasn't for him I wouldn't even be alive, I don't know what I would do if he was suddenly gone. Who would I hunt with? Who would I tease? Who would I call Robin Hood?

I had the incredible urge to hug him, but stopped myself at the last second knowing that I'd be rejected and sneered at.

No one slept that night which wasn't surprising in the least. Not only would nightmares plague our every moment of rest, but the paranoia of the gun shots and screams attracting more Walkers was on everybody's minds. Except for Andrea maybe. She hadn't moved from her spot next to Amy's body and after a while of nothing but her crying and begging for her sister to come back she had become as silent as the dead girl she stared at.

The rest of us huddled around the fire, some holding their loved ones' closer and whoever else simply stared between the fire and the dead still littering the campsite. Surprisingly none came back from the dead as was expected and by the time dawn came most of us were already at work making sure it wouldn't happen later on.

Daryl had taken up a pick axe, volunteering without having to be asked to take care of the messy job, while Glenn and T-Dog donned working gloves to carry the bodies either to a pile for the ones to be buried or over to the fire that Shane had built. I tried my best to stay out of the way, but when I got bored I put my machete to good use and joined Daryl in releasing my frustrations on the heads of fallen group members and Walkers alike.

After only a few minutes I was sweating like a pig, the hot Georgia sun already causing me to soak through my shirt and my wild hair to plaster to my face. My glasses constantly slipped down my nose and it took everything I had not to groan in frustration, which was why I was suddenly happy for a break after about a half hour into my work. I felt a tap on my shoulder after bashing in another skull, the dark blood caking my once neon green sneakers and making me grimace. Turning to whoever it was, I found Daryl standing behind me holding out that disgusting red cloth of his in one hand while the other held his pick axe over his shoulder. Regardless of the fact I knew how gross that thing was I accepted it with a grateful nod and wiped at my face as I followed him to where a group had formed around the regular campfire.

"Y'all can't be serious," Daryl drawled as we stopped beside where Carol was seated. They were staring at Andrea still hunched on the ground. "Gonna let that girl hamstring us?" Sometimes I hated Daryl's lack of tact, but still, he was decent enough to keep his voice low so Andrea couldn't hear. "That girl's a time bomb."

Rick slowly approached, his hand rubbing the bridge of his nose with a deep frown. "What do you suggest?"

Daryl took a few steps away from me to look at Rick like it was the most obvious answer in the world. His shoulders lifted into a shrug, the pick axe moving with them. I could just imagine the 'you're a dumbshit' look on his face. "Take the shot," he told him. His hand then lifted to mime a gun at his temple. "Clean in the brain. From here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."

"No," Lori interrupted and all eyes turned to her. "For god sakes let her be."

No one disputed the woman's words and I watched as Daryl rolled his eyes in annoyance before turning and stomping off back to work with his trademark scowl. Sighing, I put my machete back in its sheath and crossed my arms over my chest while biting my lip. "He's got a point, you know," I pointed out softly. Across the pit Shane shook his head with a sigh of his own.

"I know he does, but what are we supposed to do? Rick almost got his head blown off goin' over there," he said, his hands coming to rest on his hips.

"So what? We just sit here and wait for her to turn? Do you think Andrea should see that?" I hissed, my arm shooting out to gesture my hand over to the woman as my eyes narrowed on the ex-cop. "Do you really think her last memory of her sister should be as a Walker?"

"We know what you're getting at, Max, but this is her choice. Andrea has a gun. She'll take care of it when the time comes," Rick reasoned sternly from my left. Rolling my eyes in much the same way Daryl had I allowed my shoulders to slump as my lip curled up in annoyance.

"Fine. Whatever."

I began to stomp away just as Daryl had done, but I stopped short in my tracks when I heard Glenn shout. "We don't burn them!"

Looking up and over to the Asian man I found him trying to glare through his sadness at Daryl and Morales who had previously been dragging a body over to the burning pile of Walkers at the edge of the cliff. His lip was quivering with barely suppressed tears, but he stood his ground. "We burry them." When neither of the other men gave a reply he swallowed and regained his composure. "Understand?"

Daryl and Morales stared at the smaller man for a few seconds then bent to pick up the dead weight once again with grunts of effort. I heard Glenn say something else while pointing to the line of people on the other side of the RV that had been lost during the attack. Sighing again, I began to walk away back to a few bodies still left to have their heads bashed in, but stopped again when another shout, this time from Daryl, was heard.

"Y'all left my brother for dead!" he roared. Looking up at him I saw the deep scowl on his face, but it was laced with sadness. Immediately I changed directions and quickened my pace to catch up with him as he continued to stomp away, picking up his pick axe as he passed it. I wanted to stop him before he said anything too stupid.

"Daryl," I called, but he ignored me.

"Y'all had this comin'!"

"Daryl!" I barked, coming up to his side and promptly smacking him in the arm with a glare. The redneck turned to me, stopping as he did so to harden his scowl on me. "Maybe you should try putting that filter in place, huh? Think before you talk, stupid."

"You takin' their side now? Thought ya said Merle's yer friend," He snapped, his face coming intimidatingly close to mine. I knew he was trying to scare me, but that stopped working after the first few days I set up shop with him and his brother. We began to walk again after I raised my eyebrow at him, letting him know I was unaffected by his stare, and began to circle around to the other side of camp again where most of the bodies still lay.

"I'm not taking any sides, Daryl. I'm just trying to stop you from getting a bullet in the ass for your stupidity. If you keep running that mouth of yours off you'll be as good as a Walker tuna fish casserole."

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

"It means you're an idiot."

It seemed these people had a knack for dispelling arguments between me and Daryl before it became a full out rage-fest, because Daryl's next words were cut off by Jacqui's cries. "A Walker got him! A Walker bit Jim!"

Immediately my grip went back to the handle of my machete and both Daryl and I spun around to come back over to the RV where the others were starting to close in on a terrified looking Jim. The poor man was shuffling around, his face drawn back like he was ready to cry. It was then that I noticed the blood on the front of his shirt.

"Show it to us," Daryl ordered as he came up closer. As the rest of us made a circle around the tall gangly man, I could see him starting to panic. His eyes grew wild with the more shouts and demands that were thrown his way and he spun around to take up a shovel from behind him and held it in front of him like a weapon. However it didn't do him much good as the fever he was probably experiencing was making him weak and the moment T-Dog came up behind him to pin his arms to his side, he dropped the tool back to the ground.

I stayed back, watching as Daryl rushed forward and pulled up the man's shirt, revealing the clearly defined bite mark on the left side of his abdomen. All the while he struggled weakly, his voice coming out in desperate whispers as he repeated two words like a mantra: "I'm ok."

Obviously he was not 'ok'. I couldn't stop myself from frowning sadly at the tall man as T-Dog released him to stand on his own, Daryl too stepping back to my side. I actually really liked Jim, he was a friendly guy, and now he was bit and in a matter of hours he'd be one of them and we'd have to kill him. His wound would fester, the fever would take him and we'd be the only thing left on his mind for a tasty meal. Forget fish and squirrels for this guy. I felt the acid taste of bile in the back of my throat at the thought, but swallowed it back.

Jim continued to chant, his eyebrows drawing together over his nose in desperation while the rest of the members left in the camp stared at him with either sadness or anger. The anger wasn't completely directed at Jim I don't think, even though he really should have told us sooner, but at the Walkers. Somehow this plague virtually destroyed everything and even now it continued to tear everything apart. Bit by bit. Person by person.

Clearly no one knew what to do, we all just stared at him as he swayed on his feet and continued to mumble nonsensically. It was only after a few minutes of dead silence from the rest of us that Rick finally stepped forward, slowly, to approach the panicking man. His hand was held up and his tone was low and gentle like he was talking to a wild animal and it seemed to work as Jim's heaving shoulders slowly calmed, but his expression was still distraught.

"Jim, buddy, why don't you go sit in the shade for a bit?" the Sherriff suggested kindly. The closer he got to Jim, the more the man seemed to calm down. "Let you cool off for a while, how's that sound?" The lanky man paused before nodding his head vigorously, the action reminding me of a child after they had just finished crying their eyes out and had suddenly been offered candy.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice choking a bit with the effort.

"Ok," Rick said softly and even offered the man a kind smile. By now he was close enough to touch him and took advantage of it by patting him reassuringly on the shoulder and nodded gently towards the overturned crate used as a stool behind the RV. Jim obliged and stumbled over to the seat, his hand cradling his bleeding wound as Daryl and T-Dog parted farther apart to allow him through.

Rick eyed everyone that had closed in on the circle and it was obvious he wanted a discussion on what was to be done. Giving Jim a glance I forced myself to smile at the man when I caught his eye before joining the others a good ten feet away, wiggling myself between Daryl and Carol, the woman flinching away ever so slightly when my arm brushed hers.

As much as I liked Jim and didn't want to see him die by our hands, I wanted to see him as a Walker even less. I knew what had to be done, and so did Daryl probably, but was everyone else on the same page as us? Could they kill a man that was still breathing and destined to die in a few hours? Was it cruelty or mercy?

Where was the Advil when you needed it?