AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello my dolls! :)

I'm sorry this is late, but I changed the order of the chapters last minute. I was gonna do the CDC first, but after thinking about it and talking to my mum, I decided that this way flowed a little better. I hope you guys do too! So we're gonna have to wait for Daryl and Emmy to talk, sorry!

I loved writing about the brothers, they've just been begging to be written! :) I did it in third person, which was hard to do, but I think it turned out okay. Keep in mind that this is set between the 4-6 week mark. It's showing where Emmy's brothers were after the outbreak and leading up to where Emmy meets up with the camp.

My heart belongs to Slytherin Studios. Hazardous Hollz, Comidia Del Arte, melodytaylor85, Dalonega Noquisi and rosiepine! I want to seriously serenade you! :) I find elfgurl1404, Kikyohater220, core013 and Trillen17 extremely awesome for adding this to their alerts/favs! :)

VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH

This feature is rated T for obscene language and mild gore, but mostly language.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but Emily Louise, Zane, Travis, Missouri and Grady Sinclair, Monty, Macy, Ray and Bo. Things that are unfamiliar and original in plot also belong to me. Anything recognizable does not, but to its respective owners.

Always in a rush
Never stay on the phone long enough
Why am I so self-important?
Said I'd see you soon
But that was, oh, maybe a year ago
Didn't know time was of the essence

So many questions
But I'm talking to myself
I know that you can't hear me any more
Not anymore
So much to tell you
And most of all goodbye
But I know that you can't hear me any more

It's so loud inside my head
With words that I should have said
And as I drown in my regrets
I can't take back the words I never said
I never said
I can't take back the words I never said

Always talking shit
Took your advice and did the opposite
Just being young and stupid
I haven't been all that you could've hoped for
But if you'd held on a little longer
You'd have had more reasons to be proud

So many questions
But I'm talking to myself
I know that you can't hear me any more
Not anymore
So much to tell you
ThAnd most of all goodbye
But I know that you can't hear me any more

It's so loud inside my head
With words that I should have said
And as I drown in my regrets
I can't take back the words

The longer I stand here
The louder the silence
I know that you're gone but sometimes I swear that I hear
Your voice when the wind blows
So I talk to the shadows
Hoping you might be listening 'cos I want you to know

Words by Skylar Grey

Major Zane Sinclair walked down the overly stuffed halls of his post; Fort Benning. An overflow of civilians littered either side of the hall, making it narrower than it had been to begin with. The Army fatigues he wore caused them to skitter further against the sides. The soldiers hadn't been the kindest of hosts for the past month since the civilians had begun flooding in.

The first week had been complete chaos, and though there was a sense of order that had settled over Fort Benning now, it was still a circle of hell that many wished to escape. They had thought wrong when they had assumed that this place would be safe. Yes, they had shelter, food and medicine, but a whole new monster lurked in the shadows at night, taking what they wanted from those unprotected.

Lower ranking soldiers saluted him as he turned down the hall that led to his superiors' office. Today was a Monday, and as per the last four Mondays, Zane walked from the barracks where the single men and women slept, across tent littered grounds and into the another barracks where the higher ranking officers had once held offices, but now it mostly contained poverty stricken women and children who wished for the hell outside the gates and to his CO's office. Every week he went and requested leave from the base to find his brothers and little sister. Each time he was denied, his CO didn't want to give up his best soldier to a suicide mission. But he was a Sinclair and Sinclair's didn't give up.

The woman with the dark, pin straight hair pulled tautly into a bun that sat high on her head and the small eyes on a gaunt face sat at the small desk in front of the oak door. Her name was Cindy and she was General Cain's assistant. She had a stick shoved up her ass, even more so after the things outside the walls, but she never questioned Zane on what he was doing and she didn't frown in disappointment as he came back every week.

"Good morning, sir." She greeted with a tight lipped smile. Zane nodded his head back at her as she motioned him in. When he pushed in through the door, Cain was not surprised to see his best soldier come strolling through. It was 0900, and as per usual, Zane was on the dot.

"Sir." Zane greeted, giving the older man with the bald head and plump stomach a salute.

"What can I do for you today, Sinclair?" The General asked, knowing full and well what the young man wanted. But Cain refused to let him leave. There was a rule about this place; you can come in, but you can't come out. General Cain didn't plan on slackening when it came to that anytime soon.

"I would like to make a formal request for a two week leave to enter the Hot Zone." Zane replied evenly, his back straight and his arms to his side as he stared across the wide desk at his CO. The Hot Zone he was referring to was a hundred miles away from here. It was Atlanta. Any city was considered a Hot Zone, but Atlanta had been the worst. They had lost a lot of soldiers to that city. General Cain was just glad that Sinclair hadn't been a part of that brigade.

Sighing, the General leaned back into his chair and steeple his hands together. "State your reasons, solider."

"I wish to go find my family, sir. My little sister was in Atlanta." Zane repeated for the fifth time.

"I'm going to have to turn you down again, Sinclair. A unit just got back from Atlanta; the city has been declared officially dead. There are no more survivors." Cain informed the young soldier.

Zane's shoulders remained tense as he stared at the General. The city couldn't be completely dead. Emmy had to be there somewhere, he kept telling himself. He'd been in denial for weeks. He regretted not going to get her himself. He could've, every soldier had had the chance to retrieve family and come back to the fort. But Zane had turned the option down, instead believing that his little sister could make it there by herself. He had been so very wrong and he regretted it every waking second. If she was dead out there, it was his fault. He was supposed to take care of her; he was the oldest. That was his job and he had failed not only her, but his parents too.

"Sir-"

"Sinclair, it's dead. It's been dead for a long time, but it's official now. The only things in that city are undead."

"I can't believe it until I see it with my own eyes." Zane returned defiantly, not caring that he was being insubordinate with his CO. He could earn himself a week's worth of time in the brig, but he didn't care. All he wanted was leave so he could get to Atlanta. If he just saw it with his own eyes, he'd believe it. If he could just see her dead or alive, just to know, he'd be alright. That's all he needed. It was driving him crazy not knowing. He didn't worry so much about his brothers; he figured they were all locked up tight still. Emmy was the only one floating in the wind.

"They have video. Go down to IT and watch it, Sinclair. I don't need you any more distracted than you already are. Get it out of your fucking system, understood?" Cain demanded coarsely, his eyes narrowed on the younger man. He found Zane to be a good soldier, he had been his CO for the last three years. He had watched him rise through the ranks quicker than any other soldier, it was impressive considering he had failed boot camp three times before earning his place.

"Yes, sir." Zane replied tersely.

"You're dismissed." Cain commanded, earning a quick salute from Zane before he exited the office as calmly as he could make himself. He was angry and confused. This wasn't how things were supposed to be. He walked by Cindy without a backwards glance and quickly made his way towards the basement of the building where IT was stationed.

The line for the elevator was short. It was that time of morning and it didn't leave Zane too surprised. The inside of it was sterile and a steel color. It wouldn't move up or down unless you swiped your card in front of the scanner. Zane swiped the car in front of the laser before pressing the button for the level F subbasement. The floors went all the way down to W down there and it always creeped the shit out of Zane. He tried to spend as much time up top as he could, the confined spaces made him queasy.

Level F was one big room with fifty high tech computers and a larger screen that covered the entire back wall. It's where ops over in Iraq had once been handled, but now it was mostly used to keep tabs on everything going on outside of these walls. There had been quite a few close calls that they had only been aware of because of this floor. The nerds that worked the computers were held in a new respect after the first one. Sometimes they were held in higher regards than the actual soldiers.

The big cheese of the nerds was a man named Lionel Busch. He was tall, lanky and clumsier than a bull in a china shop. He had a squeaky voice and a lisp that was hard to understand when he was angry. Lionel didn't like any of the soldiers, he found them demeaning and he had this complex that made him hard to deal with on the best of days. Zane didn't deal with him too often; he wasn't among the soldiers that got to go out on missions, but when they did deal with each other, Lionel acted like he was holier than though. Zane didn't like Lionel very much, but had decided on the ride down to Level F, that he was going to have to be civil. If just this once.

"Hey, Busch!" Zane called out with a lazy smirk. The man in questioned stood at the front of the room with a tablet in their arms. Going off of the video that was on screen, Zane assumed that they were just diving into whatever footage the latest unit that had gone into Atlanta had dragged back. Exactly what he wanted to see, so Zane was feeling particularly lucky, if only for a moment.

The tall man snapped his head around at the sound of his name, his dark eyes narrowed in on Zane as Lionel saw the army fatigues that didn't belong in his floor. "What do you want?"

"General sent me down here to watch the footage that just got brought in." Zane replied easily, walking further into the foreign territory. The techs at the computers were eyeing him suspiciously as he walked past them. He wanted to pull rank, but he knew that it'd only increase their dislike of him. He was a soldier which made him an animal. Just because a lot of the soldiers had been the shining example of why humanity was fucked, didn't mean he was in that group too.

Lionel snorted and turned back around to face the screen. "Typical. We haven't finished going over it. Come back later."

"I don't care. I'm just looking for confirmation." Zane replied, coming to stop a few feet behind the rude man.

"Fine. Don't get bitchy when you see a soldier you may know." Lionel snapped as he pressed down onto the screen of the tablet which caused the stilled image on the screen to jump back to life. Looking up at it Zane tried to determine which part of Atlanta they were in. He knew where the CDC was, where Emmy had worked and where she had lived, but other than that he never had had the misfortune of going into Atlanta.

The video had obviously been taken by a helmet cam. It was shaky and gave a perspective from about six or so feet off the ground. At every noise it jarred as the soldier had turned his head quickly to react to the noise. From what he understood it had been a three man mission. He caught site of two other pairs of boots aside from the ones that the man that had been filming had worn. They were right in the middle of the carnage. There were charred busses and cars, the craters from the bombs they had dropped on Atlanta the very same night he had talked to Emmy. His heart clenched as the soldier glanced up to a building that had been hit by a bomb. It was missing an entire floor, nothing but black remnants were left for the eye to see. What if Emmy's apartment building had been destroyed the same way?

The further they moved into the city, the worse devastation Zane saw flashing across the screen. He couldn't believe that Emmy could survive there. His fellow soldiers hadn't even, so how was Emmy? Sure, she was good at shooting and knew how to take care of herself, but the situation she was dropped into was nothing she was used to. Nothing any of us were used to.

"Are you looking for something particular?" Lionel asked with a leer in the soldier's direction. His face was scrunched up in an ugly look and his beady eyes remained narrowed on anything he happened to glance at.

"My sister. I'm just trying to figure out if she could still be there."

"Oh," Lionel sighed. "You're that guy."

Zane's eyes flashed to him in a dangerous way, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I've just heard about you." Lionel shrugged trying to focus back on the images flying across the screen. From the noises coming over the speakers in the room, this was the part of the team's mission where they had accidently come across a group of Walkers. They were screaming and shooting and the combination of the noises made it hard to focus.

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Zane looked back to the screen. He didn't like the idea of being the head of base gossip. He supposed it was to be expected that nothing happened around the Fort other than the rare soldier or civilian killing themselves, but the idea still didn't sit well with him. His business was his own.

"She's dead you know though, right? No one survived out there." Lionel commented stiffly. It felt weird to actually being talking to a solider in a semi civil way, but he felt bad for him. Lionel had to own up to his family being dead a long time ago, so he understood where Zane was coming from in a sense, but he found it stupid to keep the torch going when it was obvious the outcome.

Zane glanced over at him again, more weary this time. That's what everyone kept telling him. There weren't too many survivors outside these walls and it was a waste of time to be thinking that there was. That's what his CO had said the second week. But was it really wrong to not want to give up hope? It was keeping him moving, keeping him living. If there was a chance that his family was still out there somewhere, on their way to Fort Benning, then he needed to stay alive.

"But what if they did?" Zane asked. "What if we're the ones killing them by thinking they're not alive?"

"They didn't." Lionel replied, stressing the word.

But Zane didn't believe any of that. He just couldn't. Even if it was just a shred of hope, Zane had to keep it. What was the point of living if you didn't have hope? Hope was the root of every breath and every step someone took. Zane didn't think he could survive if he gave that up, it wasn't his fault that no one else understood that. He just had to keep trying. He had to find them, he had to find Emmy. They had to be alive. They had to.

Lieutenant Colonel Grady Sinclair of the US Air Force was not amused. Today was another day at the end the row of very bad days. Scott Air Force Base was nearing its death. The Airmen that had been bitten but not killed were starting to break through the barricade Grady and some of the other men had made. Everyone that was left behind was getting nervous about the idea of them getting out and as the seconds ticked on, that nervousness was only increasing.

Grady had wanted to kill them straight off, but their now dead CO had disagreed, ordering him and twelve other men to barricade them into a section of the Air Base. It had been a bad idea to start with, but now it was really fucking stupid. Out of all the things to die by, Grady wasn't too fond of this idea. He was either killing them or leaving. Those were his two options and if the Airman that had taken their CO's position didn't like it, well tough fucking luck.

Grady, along with the CO and the thirty other men still haunting the halls of the base were in the mess hall. They were having a meeting. Discussing the very thing that Grady was pissed about. He was remaining silent for the moment being; trying to gauge how everyone else felt. It was obvious that they were displeased by the circumstances, but he'd found the men he had flown with had little to no back bone in this hell.

"What's your vote, Sinclair?" Hoffman snapped in Grady's direction. Hoffman was a short and gaunt man, the combination made him scary at times which he used to his advantage to get the remaining men to do what he wanted. He reminded Grady of the principal from the high school in Dallas. The only difference here was that Grady wasn't below shooting him in the face; he'd been rather weary of the man that was probably dead and walking in Dallas.

"I vote we get the fuck out of here." Grady answered coarsely.

Hoffman scoffed and narrowed his beady eyes on Grady, "We can't abandon our post." A meek chorus of agreements followed his statement. If any of them had had their way, they would've been gone five weeks ago.

"This is a 'abandon ship or abandon hope' sorta deal, sir. I don't know about you, but I've lost enough of my hope, so I'm going with the abandon ship option." Grady said loudly, demanding the attention of his fellow Airmen. He had his bag packed back in his quarters and was ready to go, all he needed was to know that no one else was interested in abandoning ship and then he'd hit the road. There had to be somewhere better than here. There had to be.

Rations were getting low and the generators were dying. They couldn't survive here any longer, if only Hoffman would realize it. It wasn't abandoning your post if you couldn't survive there.

"And you're what, going to lead these men to the promise land?" Hoffman laughed bitterly, glancing around to the so far quiet Airmen. Hoffman's smirk widened as they continued to stare between the two men. They'd been battling for the title of head cheese since their Lieutenant General had gotten bit. He was among the fifty or so that was locked in what had once been the warehouse for the birds.

"If they want me, then yeah! I ain't gonna just take over leadership without a fucking concession!" Grady shouted, his temper flaring out bitterly.

"Alright," Hoffman laughed, "Let's see who will follow you, Sinclair. Raise of hands if you want to go out there with dumb fuck Sinclair!" He shouted, glancing around at the men. They all glanced between each other before a small group of four finally raised their hands in the air. They had been the group Grady had always flown with before, so they trusted him. They were also among the group that wanted to get the fuck out of dodge. The rest of them however, we're siding with Hoffman.

"I think we'll be leaving then." Grady smirked.

"You can't fucking leave!" Hoffman screamed, waving his narrow finger in Grady's face.

"Consider us AWOL, sir."

"You think you're gonna last out there? Huh? You're not! You just signed your death warrant!" Hoffman shouted in outrage after them as they filed out of the room. Grady merely waved his hand over his shoulder at the man. He felt calmer now knowing he was leaving this piece of shit behind.

"You sure this is the best idea, Grady?" Second Lieutenant Smith asked with raised eyebrows as they entered the barracks that they all shared.

Grady left the man in silence until he reached his cot. He was deep in thought; trying to remember the quickest way to Georgia. They would want to avoid towns; which was going to end up being impossible, but he was still trying to humor the idea. Finally, Grady looked over to his fellow Airman with a somber look, "It's the best idea we have."

"What if it's worse out there?" Smith persisted with pursed lips. Grady found it annoying that the man was suddenly doubting him when not even ten minutes ago he had been directly on Grady's side. He figured that it was just a side effect of being trapped within the fences of the base for so long, but the more real the thought that he was actually getting out of here became, the more annoyed and less empathetic Grady became towards the thought.

"We have fifty of those fuckers locked in the fighter bay, I don't think it can be any worse out there, Smith." Grady snapped impatiently. He didn't need the doubt; he finally had grown a pair to leave this shit hole and here Smith was being a bitch about it. If anything, Grady decided he'd use Smith as a distraction to get away.

"Grady's right, man." Sanchez interrupted with his low and gravelly voice. Sanchez had been friends with Grady since flight school, he always had Grady's back and Grady always had his. They were a team. Sanchez was the only one that really knew why Grady was trying to get to Fort Benning; not only for the idea of better safety and conditions but also because he had made the promise to his baby sister and brothers. He needed to get to Fort Benning where hopefully his family was.

Grady nodded his head in the Sanchez's direction in gratitude before turning his attention back to Smith with a pair of narrowed eyes. "If you don't like it, be a bitch and stay here. The choice is yours."

"Thought you had already sided with us." Sanchez added in distaste.

"I just don't kno-"

"Well you better figure it out. We're leaving." Grady interrupted, brushing past the smaller man in annoyance. Sanchez and the other two – Rutter and Conley – right behind them with their overstuffed packs thrown over their shoulders.

"Don't worry, man, Em's gonna be just fine." Sanchez commented lightly to Grady on their way out through the gates. Grady merely nodded his head; he hoped for that much, but after everything that happened since the last time the five of them talked, he wasn't too sure anymore.

Master Sergeant Travis Sinclair of the US Marine Corps was having another rough day. He wasn't too surprised by it, after the last month or so he had had he had anticipated it even. The high school they had gotten trapped in was a piece of shit. The men that he had gone into the small rural town with were trigger happy and had used up most of their ammo on the first day.

The civilian's they had somehow gotten stuck with, and Travis really did mean stuck, were little bitches and bastards that wouldn't stop fucking complaining. They thought it was their God given purpose to complain to Travis 24/7. He was living in the same fucked up circumstances so it was wasted breathe, but they didn't seem to understand this concept. It made it worse that the CO they had gone into the town with was dead and walking around somewhere outside, which delegated the mundane task of listening to them to Travis.

The agony of their complaining had slightly lessened once the water had stopped flowing through the pipes. It had been about the second week, and after much complaining on this by a lawyer and his friend's part with nothing being done they had convinced ten or so of the fifty civilians to leave with them to find somewhere safer. Travis hadn't even tried to talk them out of it. Less mouths to feed, he had thought to himself.

After that it was like a virus, slowly they began to dwindle. They honestly thought it was safer away from the Marines than it was close by. Travis and his men were all but happy to let them think that.

By the one month mark of being stuck in the shitty school, there were fifteen civilians and twelve Marines. They were at the bottom of their supplies and Travis regrettably sent out half of his team to find some. They never came back.

Now, one week later, Travis was at his breaking point. He didn't know what to do. The ratio of civilians to Marines was now disportionate and both sides of the equation were getting antsy over it. Travis was close to opting out like some of his fellow Marines had back at Camp Lejeune. The nagging thought of his brothers and little sister constantly sat at the back of his head, being the only thing restraining him from putting that gun in his mouth and pulling the trigger.

He had half a mind to just take what little ammo and men he had left and get them to Fort Benning. If anywhere was going to be safe that was where it was. As far as he knew Camp Lejeune was dead. He wished it wasn't considering how close it was, but Fort Benning was just an extra fifty miles in the other direction and the longer they stayed here the better it was sounding.

"Who's up for a road trip?" Travis asked glancing at each of the Marines.

"Sir?" Corporal Mitchel asked wearily from the other side of the table with a raised eyebrow in Travis' direction. Corporal Mitchel had dirty blonde hair and dirty brown eyes. Everyone was tired. Everyone was just as lost and confused as Travis was at this point. The only difference was that Travis couldn't be so open about it.

"Fort Benning. Far as I know, it'd be the safest place to move on to." Travis replied calmly, making a special point to make contact with the five of them. It was just the Marines tonight in the mess hall of the high school and tonight was the night that Travis was going to be proposing the idea of Fort Benning. He'd mentioned it in passing to one or two of them over the past month, but tonight he was going to give them the option to follow him there.

"Could we even make it that far?" Private Edsigna asked quietly, he was the youngest of them with thick glasses on his nose and dark hair slicked back over his head, his skin was a shade of olive and when he got anxious he started muttering to himself in Spanish. He had just gotten out of training when the world went to shit. Travis felt bad for him most of the time and tried to keep an eye on him. He had never had a little brother before and he liked the thought of it sometimes when he was missing Emmy.

"If we dumped the dead weight, then fuck yeah!" Corporal Lancing whooped. He didn't talk all the much and was a little on the short side. The only thing that was obvious about him was the fact that he had a clear dislike for the civilians. He blamed losing six of his fellow Marines on them and didn't let it go unknown.

"Are we gonna do that?" Edsigna asked with wide eyes, glancing between Travis and Lancing.

"Yes." Travis replied curtly. It was going against everything he was ever taught in his life, but he couldn't just sit here and rot away. He knew the civilians wouldn't trust going out there with a bunch of Marines. They had shown how they felt about that idea time and time again, which left Travis with this. Taking his men and leaving.

"Sir, can we do that?" Another Marine asked, she was the only female in the unit; that alone made her the toughest bitch within a hundred miles in Travis' opinion. It was hard holding your own among a bunch of asshole Marines. Her name was Mackenzie and she had this scarlet hair that made her stand out that much more, she had an attitude and a way with words too. If all that wasn't enough to make her a thorn in Travis' side, the fact that they had been dating under the radar before the dead started walking was. She was constantly doubting him. So between her and the civilian's he was ready to mass murder on the best of days.

"We are. I'm not risking my life for them any longer." Travis snapped at her irritably. "Pack your shit; we leave in the morning."

"We're not even gonna tell them?" Mitchel asked him carefully.

"No. I'm not going to listen to them bitch at me any longer. Don't like it; stay behind." Travis stated with a sense of finality that landed heavily on the chests of his fellow Marines. Shoving his seat away from the table – eliciting a horrible squeal from its legs – he withdrew himself from their company in a huff.

This is what they needed to do. It wasn't his fucking fault that the civilians they had been landed with were complete idiots. It wasn't his job to lead them. He'd already done more than his share of being their damn herder. If they had had their way they'd been dead a long time ago and maybe he should've let them. It was less effort to just let them go screaming outside. Kept the locals fed and the population up, he thought sardonically.

It wasn't like he could make them do anything they didn't want to, no matter how hard he tried. Had a months' worth of failure to show you that much. He just wanted out of this place. It was killing him slowly and surely. He'd rather die and be one of them than keep suffocating his this damn school.

His only concern was his team and getting to Fort Benning where his family was. He didn't let the word hopefully enter his mind; he knew they had to be there and that's all there was to it.

Dallas was dead. There was no way to sugar coat it, because every corner you turned there was something waiting to rip your face off. The moans from the dead carried down to the full halls of the Dallas CDC.

Missouri was among a group of soldiers, Doctors, officers and civilians that walked those halls. He had gotten in at the very last minute the day of the outbreak. He couldn't say that he didn't like it there, because it was safe and that's all he could really ask for. But he really didn't like it there. It was locked up tight and he hated being twenty floors underneath the city. He figured the room of those things that the head Doctor kept to run tests on wasn't helping his level of calm either.

Missouri was among three that knew about that room. He wasn't happy to be included on that list. It sat wrong with him to be keeping them like that. The best they could do for them was kill them. He had stated this fact on more than one occasion, but the head Doctor disagreed; live samples were the only way he was going to find a cure for it. Missouri doubted they'd ever find a cure, but there wasn't much he could do. He was a guest there.

They hadn't made contact with anyone for one week. It was making Doctor Yan – the spicy oriental that was the head of the CDC – a little nervous. The fact that the gas for the generators was getting just a little too low wasn't helping anyone too much either. A countdown had already started. It was just a matter of days until they ran out. Only a matter of days until everyone within those walls died. Doctor Yan had disclosed that little jewel to everyone once the timer had popped up. Let's just say he was still sporting a busted lip and shiner from one of the soldiers.

Doctor Yan wasn't at complete fault though. He was giving everyone the option to leave the morning before the doors locked for good. Missouri had decided on taking that option. He figured Fort Benning had waited long enough. He wasn't looking forward to the lecture Zane was sure enough to give him for taking so long. Emmy was gonna rip him a new one too, he was sure. She hated to wait.

He got so pissed off at himself sometimes. He regretted not keeping Emmy in Dallas with him. He shouldn't have ran her off to Atlanta. He would've known she was safe if she had stayed. There would've been a degree less of worry for everyone if that had been the case. But no, they had all thought they knew best and sent her away. She was closer to everyone else so they saw no error in it, but now, now Missouri hated himself for folding at his brothers' whims.

He hadn't gotten too close to anyone that had gotten locked up in the CDC with him. He didn't see the need. Sure, they'd been locked in there together for quite a while, but Missouri never planned on staying that long and he'd never really been one for friends. He was the more reserved one out of the triplets. He figured that's why he and Emmy got along so well; he was willing to go along with anything you threw out there if it was smart, and well Missouri didn't think he knew anyone smarter than his baby sister. He hoped that all those smarts he thought she had was keeping her alive and safe.

Missouri left the Dallas CDC early in the morning, him and two other soldiers were the only ones deciding to not inhale burning air and die. They were the only stupid ones, Doctor Yan had said as he let them out. Missouri disagreed, how could choosing to live be stupid? Even if the circumstances were now just a little murky, it didn't mean that you had to give up. Life was still life, even if death hadn't remained the same.

After going to the Sherriff's department he had been working at for the past three years to round up some sort of weapons and then heading home to pick up a few sentimental things, Missouri was on his way out of Dallas. Georgia was quite a ways away and he had a lot of ground to cover. He had been lucky enough to find a Hummer on the side of the highway out of Dallas with a tank full of gas and nothing rotting inside.

It hadn't necessarily been his first thought to head through Kings County on his way to Fort Benning, but he had somehow ended up there after a week of driving and walking. He'd had more than just a couple close calls and had been happy with himself for dragging along the riot gear with him when he had left Dallas, it was proving to be extremely useful when he went on supply runs. It gave him enough protection that he could fight without them getting a munch in him and it was light enough that he could run.

It was on the edge of Kings County, the town his momma had grown up in and that they had spent quite a few summers in, that he ran across a man. A man with a hat and a badge; a brother in arms really if Missouri wanted to get poetic about the encounter. It was a complete accident he even came across the man.

He had run out of gas at the most inopportune moment. From where he was marooned on the side of the road he could see a gas station sign, so with caution he had moved forward. The sawed off shotgun he had swiped from a dead hunter two town back was gripped tightly in his hands, his eyes were on a constant sweep and Missouri's heart jumped at every noise.

The cars were packed densely together the closer he got to the gas station. In a few cars he spotted families that had taken their lives. It was hard to stomach the thought as he saw the little children in the backseats, but Missouri kept moving. He just hoped that there was gas.

"Are you bit?" Missouri swiveled at the voice. His heart was in a panic as he looked around himself for the source. Had he really heard that voice or was it all in his head? Had he been out here for too long by himself?

"I said are you bit?" More frantic this time Missouri heard the voice, it sounded closer this time he noted wearily.

"No! Are you?" Missouri's voice cracked at the disuse it had suffered over the past week.

"No!" It replied and finally Missouri saw the source, a man in a sheriff's hat and uniform. Missouri suddenly felt naked as he spotted him; he hadn't worn his own uniform for what felt like ages. He ached for the normalcy it had brought with it. "My name is Rick Grimes. Who are you?"

"Missouri Sinclair. Nice to meet you, sir."

"Likewise." The man smiled. Missouri suddenly had the feeling that this man would be of more use to him in the future than he would have ever guessed.