"Over here!" I call. I'm not exactly loud, but noisy enough to attract the attention of the three dozen or so Walkers ambling around the parking lot. "C'mon, I bet I taste delicious! Fresh, tasty meat right here! C'mon, come get me!"

I walk back leisurely, making sure I have their attention. The one on the far end is still preoccupied with the door; I have to get him. I glance behind me out of habit, even though I know that Carl is covering me.

Great, on top of everything else, I have trust issues.

"The one at the door still doesn't see us," I inform the boy "We have to run them around."

"Inside or outside?" he asks. He's taking the whole 'cover my back' thing pretty seriously if he won't even turn around.

"Outside," I reply "One of them's stuck on that bench by the sidewalk. You don't need to cut into the grass either, just skim the edge of the parking lot. You good?"

"I'm good."

I start moving a bit faster, making sure I can still feel Carl behind me as I do so. We get around to the edge of the parking lot and move around the miniature herd. I keep calling out until the one at the door finally notices me, at which point I say "Alright, he's got us."

"Where to?"

"Let's just head back around," I reply.

"Got it."

We start walking the other way and I keep a careful eye on the Walkers in the parking lot. It's almost funny that they're so determined to eat us. I mean really, after all that we've gone through, do these random little Walkers really think that they're the ones who are going to get us? Please.

We've been walking for about a minute when the doors of the storage building open and Glenn and Maggie run out, T-Dog and Daryl right behind them. A bolt flies through the head of the Walker nearest me and Carl, and I shoot Daryl a glance. He was watching me for a moment, but now he's focused on the Walkers again.

Glenn and Maggie take out a few with their hatchets, Daryl shoots one that gets too close, and T-Dog stands to the side with his gun ready in case things go downhill.

Another Walker gets close to me and Carl and I take my knife out of my belt. It gets within a few feet and I step forward, jam my knife into its head, and step back all in one fluid motion.

"Anything on your side?" I ask Carl.

"Still clear," he replies "Are they killing them?"

"Quite effectively," I quip.

We get across the edge of the parking lot and start moving towards the back doors. It doesn't take very long and no more Walkers get close enough to pose any danger, and then we're back inside the safety of the storage building.

Before Carl and I have even caught our breath, Rick is chaining the door back up. "Did I do good?" Carl asks breathlessly.

Rick finishes chaining the door and turns to look at us. He places a hand on Carl's shoulder and smiles. "Yeah, you did good."

Carl beams and then the three of us rush back to the front of the storage building. When we get there, the little team of Walker-killers is already back inside, and Carol is watching the entrance.

"Alright," calls Rick "Good job! Now let's get things packed up quickly!"

I give Carl a squeeze on the shoulder before I leave his side to start grabbing bags. We all head out to the parking lot and start packing up the vehicles with our remaining food and supplies, keeping a watch out for Walkers as we do so. I almost swear that one of the dead ones moves, but it's just the wind picking up its shirt.

Within twenty minutes or so we're all packed up and piling into the cars. It's almost strange that we can just pack up our whole life and leave like this, after spending over a month in this place.

"Where are we going?" Carl asks as we pile into the car.

"Housing development," I reply "Gonna see if any of them have food."

Carl nods.

Carol gets in next to us and Rick and Lori get into the front seats. Our little caravan starts up and we're leaving our temporary home behind. I watch it fade in the rearview mirror, and then berate myself for being so sentimental. Sentimentality isn't the best trait to have these days.

"What are you doing?" Carl asks as he wanders into the yard.

"Honeysuckle's bloomin,'" Beth replies with a grin, popping another flower off the vine and breaking the stem. She shoves the end into her mouth and grins.

"So?"

"So it tastes good!" I reply, breaking off another flower and handing it to him. He looks at me with a confused and expression and I frown. "Don't tell me you've never had honeysuckle before! What kind of Southern child are you?"

I pick another flower off and show Carl how to break the stem to get the sweetness out of it, and then suck on the end. "It tastes like honey and you suck it," I explain with a grin "Honeysuckle."

Carl follows my actions as Beth and I look on with laughter, and then he joins our grins and nods. "It's good," he says, looking more at Beth than at me. I roll my eyes but he doesn't notice. After a few seconds he turns to me and says "Oh yeah, Dad wanted me to come get you 'cause they're having a meeting."

"What about?" I ask, snapping one last flower off of the bush. Carl shrugs and turns back to Beth, who gives me a slightly exasperated look before I start heading back to the house.

Carl's crush on Beth is something that's entirely obvious to everyone and makes us all smile. Cute things make the world feel quite a bit less depressing.

I get one last whiff of the flowery springtime air before I head inside the house we're currently using. I can hear the talking already going on in the dining room when I get there. Rick looks up and says "We're talking about where to go for medical supplies."

Medical supplies. For Lori, obviously.

Lori isn't at this meeting. She's probably asleep upstairs, trying to ignore her ridiculously large baby belly. It's gotten to the point of looking a bit like a beach ball hidden beneath her shirt, but I know that it's just going to get even bigger.

I sit down next to Maggie as Hershel starts talking about the things we'll need when Lori delivers. Maybe what we need isn't exactly the problem here; the problem is how we're going to get those things.

None of us are thrilled about the prospect of going to a hospital; most of them will probably be overrun. That leaves pharmacies, doctor's offices, clinics, things like that. But those kinds of places have likely been picked clean of anything useful. We need to go to a hospital, as dangerous as it is.

"There could be food in a hospital," I pipe up when we touch the subject. "My mom worked in the ER, she always ordered out at lunch because she hated the food. It was probably packed full of preservatives, which means…"

"If it's still there it'll be good," Rick finishes with a nod.

"Yeah," I shrug, biting my lip.

From then on, the decision's pretty much made already, but we have to go over every possible choice before we make up our minds. I guess that's democracy for you.

I remember all of those months ago; when Rick decided that this isn't a democracy anymore. So far that isn't really showing. He makes executive decisions sometimes, but these meetings still happen. Maybe he really did just… snap. I guess that's okay if it doesn't happen again…

We decide on the hospital. And since the run itself is so dangerous, we decide that Rick, Daryl, T-Dog, Glenn, and Maggie will be going. All of the best fighters.

"What'll we do if a herd comes?" asks Carol "Or another group?"

"I'm sure that you, Dawson, and Carl can hold down the fort," Rick replies "But if a herd comes… we'll figure out a location to meet at."

This sounds like it's going to be a fun few days.

We work out a few more details before the meeting disperses. None of us are particularly happy about tomorrow.

Watching half the group leave is heart-wrenching. I keep imagining them running down the halls of some dark, Walker-infested hospital. I imagine them taking a wrong turn and getting cornered, and I imagine them all being slowly eaten alive.

But I know that last bit won't happen. We made a pact a long time ago that we would put each other down if it came to that, but a practical knowledge of something never helps your fears. It's why people who were afraid of heights couldn't climb rock walls even if they were harnessed in; your instincts take over.

And right now, my instincts are making me worried.

"They'll be alright," says Carol, squeezing my hand "You know they will."

"Surviving isn't all about skill," I reply quietly "It's a bit of luck, too. And you never know when your luck will run out."

"You can't think like that," she says "You have to focus on what you can do, and right now you can't do anything for them. So let's focus on what we need to do here, okay?"

I turn to look at Carol. She's giving me a very serious look, clearly telling me to stop my worrying and get on with the chores we have to do.

I do the chores, but I don't stop worrying.

My thoughts stray to Daryl more often than not, which irritates my brain but sets my stomach aflutter. What with the imminent danger, the butterflies are pretty restless today, but for the first time it's for reasons I don't hate.

Still, I promised myself that I need to stop thinking about Daryl.

That leads me to think about Maggie, who I also promised myself I'd have a conversation with… but I never did. I was too embarrassed and maybe a bit too stubborn to talk to her about my problems, and now I really want to.

And if she doesn't come back, I never will.

I should really stop thinking; it never gets me anywhere good.

"Your move," says Carl, removing me from my unproductive thoughts.

"Right," I mutter, examining the chess board. What piece did he just move? The knight? No, it was in the same place last time. No… I think he moved that pawn… Wait… I should ask. But I really don't want to ask, because then he'll know that I wasn't paying attention.

I take a much longer time than usual to move my piece, owing to the fact that I don't know what move Carl made.

And on his next turn he takes my queen.

It's the third day since the group split up, and my anxiety levels are rapidly increasing.

I think about the time that Beth and I got lost and how I managed to remain calm that time. How did I remain calm that time? Maybe it was because I had to take care of Beth or maybe it was because we were the ones separated that time.

Once again, I try to focus on something else, but to no avail. At one point I try to think about Lucy, but that gets me pretty much the same anxiety level as thinking about the rest of the group.

In my mind, I make up a world where I'm with my group and we're all safe, where we don't have to worry about anything. Even the old world wasn't perfect. Even in the old world you could leave home perfectly normal and never come back. I just never really noticed.

I guess things haven't really changed that much. People are still killing each other.

There's just a lot more now.

With those happy thoughts, I return to my stimulating activity of staring out the window, waiting for a car to return.

It'll be Daryl's motorcycle first, though. He'll be right in front of Maggie and Glenn's little green car that always gets used for runs. That car will hold the rest of the group.

But I'll hear the motorcycle first. And Daryl.

Flutter.

Shut up.

I've told myself about a hundred times in the past month or two that I desperately need to talk to Maggie, but I can't seem to follow my own advice. Instead, I sit around stewing in my teenage hormones and running back over the last conversation we had, which I suppose is a better activity than worrying.

No, it's not.

I really miss the Internet.

Then I hear the engine and my heart leaps. I straighten up and look out the window, and here comes the motorcycle and the green car along the road, and after less than a minute they're all parked and getting out and they all seem to be perfectly fine and they're carrying supplies and oh thank God—

I rush out the door and hug the first person in my path, which is Daryl. I back away almost as soon as I realize what I'm doing and run to Maggie next. "I was so worried about you guys!" I say as I step back.

"No big deal," says Glenn, his voice dripping with sarcasm "Not like I had to crawl through a mile of vents or anything."

"Ya got us outta there," Daryl shrugs. Everyone else laughs, and I imagine Glenn climbing through the vents of a dark, Walker-infested hospital.

Now that the group is alive here in front of me, the visual isn't quite so nerve-wracking.

I grab a rather heavy box and help them get all of our new supplies into the house, much happier than I was before.