Disclaimer: I make no claims to the Walking Dead Universe. Robert Kirkman is guarding that hoard like a dragon. This piece is only my frantic scribbling.

Chapter 2: Know Better

Zombie cover by Damned Anthem

The group of people she'd fallen in with were intense. Bill, the patriarch, was a former army ranger. He was Travis' father. Travis was a government contractor, and former army himself.

Ned was Bill's nephew. He was abrasive, but his wife Cathy was a sweetheart who couldn't talk enough about their kids. They had three, but only the youngest son, fifteen, was with them. The boy was sulky and quiet, scowling, while his mother watched him like a hawk.

The final man was Bill's friend, Buck. He didn't talk much either. His wife, Tessa, had a heart condition and that was where Lisa came in.

She wasn't exactly comfortable handing out medication without a doctor's script, but they had the name and dosage of the one's Tessa needed on an old bottle.

When Lisa had let the lot of them in the CVS, they'd stripped it far more efficiently than she had. During that time Travis drug her aside and mentioned his wife's anti-anxiety meds. She'd, thankfully, been able to source them as well. All the while Bill and Ned had circled the store like sharks.

When it came time to leave she exited to see Ned with her back hatch open and a gas can in his hands. "Jesus, girlie. You got enough stuff in here?"

"Not for this, I don't think," she huffed.

He pushed at a wrapped block of water bottles but didn't create much space. "True, true." He cast a sly side eye toward her. "Ya know, you got too much stuff and not enough space."

Her jaw tightened and she started to wonder if she should have pulled her piece from her center console before she pointed them to the right meds.

"I'll work you a trade," he proposed. Lisa's eyebrows rose. "I show you how we got the gas out that station," he gestured, "And you give me this survival kit you put together." Her eyes rested on the cobbled together box of basic first aide, weather protection, calorie dense food, and supplements.

The box was almost the same size as the gas can and it made Lisa re-evaluate Ned. It was probably the most valuable thing in the whole vehicle and she'd put it together with the idea she might have to hoof it later. Her attention shifted to the gas station across the street and a smirk curved her lips. Knowledge was power, and if the world really was going to shit then gas was gold. She could put those kits together in her sleep and she could survive on less. "Deal."

"Hey," Ned called, drawing the attention of Buck and Bill. "I'ma take the lady over yonder and teach her some things."

No one noticed when Lisa maneuvered to her driver's side door and pulled the sidearm from her consul, discreetly strapping it to her waist and covering the holster with her shirt.

"Be nice, Ned," Bill warned.

The pale, slightly pudgy man grinned. "I'm always nice."

There were a few scoffs before Lisa met up with Ned and ventured across the street.

Her attention swiveled, taking in the restaurant next door with the front window shattered - which she also hadn't heard during her looting. Dear Lord, how many people, or groups of people, had she been oblivious to? Further down the street something, somewhere, seemed to be on fire, and for the first time she started paying attention to the occasional gunshot in the distance.

Ned must have seen her flinch because his face turned exasperated. "How the hell ya gonna make it if you ain't payin attention to what's around you?"

Lisa grimaced.

"Yeah, my cousin saved your pretty ass from being chow back there. Ya might wanna learn from it," he derided. Their feet hit the sidewalk in front of the station. "Bet you didn't even think to bring a weapon."

Scanning the man's slightly scruffy face she replied, "Oh, I did."

"Where ya got it?" He wondered.

"Not telling ya," Lisa deadpanned.

Ned gave a high whining laugh. "There ya go, pretty. Best to watch your own ass. And you best watch it," he warned. The mirth lining his eyes abruptly vanished. "This is gonna bring out all the nasties." Lisa followed the quick flick of his gaze back toward the circle of vehicles in the parking lot of the CVS. With a jerk of his head Ned came back to himself, jutting his jaw toward the gas station. "Come on now."

…...

Lisa cranked the socket wrench, feeling like she wasn't actually moving the bolt head underneath. She drew the tool away, examining it.

"What's the problem, ain't got the arm muscle?" Ned leaned in. Seeing the socket he scoffed, pulling the tool out of her hand before tossing it away. It pinged on the cement and rolled to rest next to a pump.

"Hey!" Lisa protested.

With a swift thrust and yank he removed a wrench from the back pocket of his jeans and slapped it into her palm. "Cheap tools are shit tools, and shit tools don't always work, sweetheart."

Lisa made a face but put the wrench to work.

…...

Gagging, Lisa spit a mouthful of gas onto the pavement. She had the presence of mind to put her mouth back on the hose and suck another nasty mouthful before spitting it out and hastily moving the hose into the can.

"You know, what you did was pretty stupid," Ned commented.

Lisa was too busy trying to clear her mouth and nose of gas fumes to retort.

"Telling people you know medicine." From the corner of her vision she saw his face screw up in disgust. "Hell, you already have it hard enough. You're a woman. Do you have any notion in that head of yours how dangerous things are?"

"I'm a pharmacist, not a doctor," she protested, aware of the way she was fudging the truth and thinking that Ned would approve.

"And ain't that a shit thing for you," the man commented. "Not that it'll save you much hassle in the long run."

…...

The can was full and Lisa felt a swell of accomplishment as she pinched off the tubing and pulled it up. In the future she'd be able to siphon gas, from station or tank. Glancing up, she caught Ned looking across the street again.

"You should have a look-see through the station here. There's more things than gas. You ever think of barter?" He needled.

Her mind flipped through the few things she knew about illicit markets in prison's that she'd seen on TV. "Like cigarettes?" She wondered. A skeptical part of her recoiled at the idea the world would get to that point. Civilization couldn't be defeated that easily, could it?

Ned's eyes narrowed at her in annoyance and Lisa tried to wipe the half amused look off her face. "Yeah, or chocolate, lighters, batteries. Hell, everybody turns their nose up at the bootlegger or the granny knitting a blanket until they can't go to the local Wal-Mart."

Lisa made a noise of consideration as her eyes drifted toward the broken in doors of the gas station. When she stepped inside she had no idea it would be the last time that she'd see Ned alive.

…...

She circled the spot her Jeep had been parked in. It didn't make her vehicle magically reappear. God, she'd been incredibly, unimaginably, stupid. And she was going to kick herself all the way home - if she made it home.

He'd all but told her, warned her.

All the stuff she'd spent two days stealing, her cell phone, her wallet, her god damn house keys, gone. She should have known that group was too good to be true, taking the ignorant woman under their wing and protection. All they'd been after was her stuff. That was probably why Travis was even in the CVS parking lot to begin with. Her medical knowledge had been a bonus. The possibility of her having it was probably why Travis hadn't just let her be Geek food in the first place.

Someone, and she'd bet money it was probably Ned, had left her the survival kit and a container of gas in the parking lot. If it was meant to be a kind gesture she was taking it more as a slap in the face. She should have known his friendly suggestion to check out the gas station was a ruse. It was probably his softball way of getting out of killing her.

The snarling to her left increased in volume and Lisa was forced to make a decision; She could either stay the night in the CVS or walk the three miles home. Three miles of dangerous suburbia with only eight shots in her gun. And she wasn't stupid enough not to notice that the first Geek had shown up after that group had rolled through making a shit ton of noise.

Survival of the fittest was the new rule, and it was what Ned had been trying to tell her all along. They'd played her and she could almost commend them for how well they'd done it. Who says no to vulnerable kids?

What she couldn't forgive them for, wouldn't, was taking away her means of getting to those she loved. She promised herself if she ever saw any of them again she'd make them pay for it.

Her gaze briefly ghosted over the doors to the CVS. Well screw them. If the disease was as widespread as was suggested then staying in a building in a populated area was a death trap. She knew damn well that group had cleared the business of everything useful. After all, she'd walked out of the gas station with nothing but a single five hour energy that had rolled under the counter and a handful of lighters. Home it was.

…...

She jogged down the sidewalk, afraid that if she was in the street she'd get hit, and aware that the fences between yards would slow her down. She still risked a few of them to cut blocks.

It seemed that in a handful of hours the town had gone from mostly living, to mostly - whatever they were. Reality was coming to her fast and ugly. There could be no more excuses.

Fortunately it appeared if you could avoid being cornered, and move at a brisk pace, the Geeks would get distracted by slower prey. She cringed at the screams but hesitated to pop off her last shot. Within the first mile she'd become positive noise drew them.

At one point she'd ducked into a church to lose a largish group. That had been a mistake that had cost her four bullets and was sure to leave her nightmares later, if she made it.

Halfway home she passed through an intersection obscured by low hanging smoke. A breeze ripped around her, clearing the air enough for her to notice the house one down from the corner was on fire. For a moment her attention was fully fixed on the flames licking out of the windows and the group of people shuffling towards them in a stiff gait. Movement in her peripheral vision had her pulling a half stutter step, half leap, that threw her clear of a set of grasping hands. When met with the charred face of the thing she'd narrowly avoided, she'd screamed involuntarily.

Lisa had sprinted after that, choking on smoke and her own panic.

A block from her house, she could see it she was that close, she ran into a group of twenty Geeks. Some were bent down tearing at something on a lawn. Some were staggering around, clogging up the street. Glancing around for a weapon she found a crumpled road sign that had been knocked down by an accident. The car that had done the damage was lodged against a small maple, the driver's arms waving out the window uncoordinatedly.

Reaching down to pick up the long, green, post, Lisa found it was heavier than she expected. She shuffled her grip until the bent end was out in front of her but close enough she felt she could put some power behind it. Dancing out into the middle of the street, Lisa rushed between the grabbing hands, jamming the sign into the chest of a man she recognized as a neighbor. She ended up dropping it only a few paces into her charge, but it made enough of a hole for her to get through.

When she reached her driveway she hurriedly shut a gate she hadn't closed in five years. The fencing around her property was chain link, and only four feet high. None of the things had followed her, thankfully, but she knew her time was limited.

…...

She broke into her own house with an old clinic ID she'd found in the filing cabinet in her garage. Lisa had limited herself to five minutes to gather things, and with the power still on she'd timed it.

Once everything was strapped down she paused to look at her only source of transportation. It was a bike, a ten speed bike, with a basket and rack, for cute around town trips. It didn't look as cute with everything she could stuff on it covered in a tarp, secured with twine and bungee cords.

A bitter snort escaped her as she shrugged her shoulders, trying to free the sticky material of her shirt from her back. Chances were she looked as ragged as the bike. The 'screw it' invective from that morning had morphed into a 'fuck them' mentality. She hoped the bastards who'd left her for dead busted a tie rod end at speed. God, she wished she'd grabbed her mom and left with Carrie and JJ.

The bike was going to set her back. It'd been four hours since Lisa had originally planned to head to her mother's. With her cell phone gone she couldn't even call the woman.

Unwilling to lose her shit further, Lisa toed the kickstand up and wheeled the bike out of the garage. She still needed to get out to a main road.

…...

Two hours later she made it to her mother's countryside home, but it was empty. That was not to say that she couldn't tell what had happened. After all, there was a very specific spot between the house and the barn that Lisa was very firmly not thinking about. She would not think about the scruffy maroon colored grass, or the pieces…Nope.

The teenaged son of her mother's neighbor snarled and patted his flakey, maroon painted hands unsteadily on the door that opened onto the front porch.

…...

Three days later, when she finished shoving her bike into the back of her mother's Patriot, there was a brand new wooden cross in the yard. The shovel she'd used to put it there lay next to the unmoving body of the kid from next door. She hadn't bothered to bury him.

Lisa was self aware enough to know that something in her had broken.

Cell phone networks were down, so even though she had her mother's phone she couldn't call Carrie. Not that she was likely to remember her friend's number from memory anyway. And Jesus when did that happen? She'd grown up memorizing a dozen different phone numbers.

Lisa turned the key in the ignition, glancing at the gas gauge and seeing it almost full. Her attention drifted to the passenger seat where her father's 30-30, twelve gauge, and 30-06 rested with their accompanying ammo boxes. They'd been waiting for her inside the front door. Her fingers slid along her hips, feeling the make-shift holsters for multiple kitchen knives and the bump of her properly holstered, and reloaded, pistol. Behind her bags of food, medical odds and ends, and clothing rested.

How long ago had it been that she'd griped to Carrie about parenting her parent?

The wound she'd stitched closed had reopened to make room for her Mother, but there wasn't time to grieve. A small part of her wondered if it wasn't better that they weren't around to see how things were.

From across the road two shambling Geeks were making their way towards her, drawn by the sound of the engine.

Her attention caught on the two, full, rosy red gas cans in the back before she backed the car around and head toward Griffin.

…...

She was threading her way between Fayetteville and Peachtree when she spotted her Jeep. It was parked in the back of a Marathon gas station on 54, surrounded by the vehicles she'd vaguely catalogued from her run in with Travis' group. If she'd chosen Flat Creek road instead of Tyrone she'd never have seen them and that might have been worse.

Inching toward the intersection she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. There was a dark pile near the rear wall of the store that took her precious moments to realize were bodies. The station itself seemed abandoned.

Her fingers twitched on the steering wheel, caution urging her to simply drive away. Instead her foot eased off the gas and her speed dropped further. She turned into the lot, trundling around until the front bumper of the Patriot pointed back toward the road. She pulled the keys from the vehicle and tucked them in her pocket.

Easing the door open, her feet crunched down onto the gravel of the rear lot. She immediately pulled her gun with her right hand and a long bladed carving knife with her left. Pausing, she listened. Birds chirped, the dull drone of insects was broken up by frogs in the ditch. From further off she thought she heard the low hum she'd come to associate with a large group of Geeks.

She tip toed in a mincing jog toward the row of cars, cursing herself for the need to investigate.

The doors on the truck and SUV hung open and she darted a quick peek inside. They looked like they'd been rifled through, though the truck had a stain on the passenger headrest, something bloody, lumpy, and only partially dry. She covered her mouth with the back of her knife hand.

Her attention drifted to the pile of bodies by the wall, mind unwillingly putting the pieces together and distantly wondering which poor soul had been riding shotgun. Against the grip of her gun her palm started sweating. Who was at the bottom of the heap was impossible to figure out without digging, which she was not going to do. However, the body on top was obviously a child with long brunette hair. She looked about eight. The wind shifted bringing an evil smell to her senses at the same time her ears registered the buzz of flies.

Gagging, she stumbled away. She ducked around her Jeep, putting it between her and the grisly scene and hunching against its side. She whipped her head back and forth, scanning the lot for others in sudden fear. Geeks hadn't shot Travis' family.

A scratch of footsteps came from where she'd parked the Patriot and Lisa stiffened. She strained to pick out sound over the high whine of insects. There was a muffled thud, a slipping, dragging noise, then more steps. They were uneven and she felt her pulse pick up at the guess there was a Geek between her and her vehicle.

Peering around the hood of the Jeep, Lisa's eyes widened. She clamped down on her instinctual urge to rush to assist the naked female. Given a moment to catch up, her brain catalogued the shuffling gate, the listless way the torso leaned. Shock froze her in a half crouch by the front tire as Travis' wife - dead, she had to be dead with that wound to her throat - slowly turned toward her.

Lisa wasn't sure if her foot had slid in the gravel, or if she'd made some sort of involuntary noise, but the woman homed in on her and lurched forward. She scuttled backwards, only to hear a raspy breath from behind her.

Idiot, she cursed herself, turning to look over her shoulder to see the thick form of Bill trundling toward her. He had a large, peppered looking wound to his stomach that she realized was probably a shot gun blast. His arms waved at her, fingers grasping and tangling on her right shirt sleeve. Lisa pulled back, shoulder bumping into the Jeep and unable to raise the arm with the gun.

Up close the smell of decay was as overwhelming as his cloudy eyes. Her mind blanked in horror as Bill leaned his snapping mouth toward her face. Without conscious thought her left arm brought the blade in her hand up in defense and thrust it forward toward his face. There was a messy, popping squelch, as the blade sank into his orbital socket and then Bill dropped to the ground. Her hand reflexively released the blade, allowing the corpse to take it down with him.

She stared for a moment before memory kicked back in and she realized there was another Geek likely closing on her from behind. She shuffled around Bill's body, bending down to pull the knife from his eye with her face scrunched in disgust. When she turned toward the front of the Jeep, Becca was rounding the hood.

Lisa's entire body jittered in horror. She didn't need to speculate on the bruises or the nakedness. The long, crusted, slash along the other woman's throat was far more concerning. It was confirmation. These people weren't sick, they were dead.

With that thought in mind Lisa jouked around the woman, bringing the bloodied knife up to slam through the thin bone at the temple. With a crunch and some resistance the body dropped. Disgusted by the weapon, Lisa was tempted to drop it. Instead, practicality won out and she turned away from the battered dead woman to wipe the blade on Bill's clothing.

It wasn't until long after she left that cursed place that her callous actions fully sank in. She almost crashed the vehicle when she broke down into a shuttering, sobbing mess.

…...

She pulled far off the road that evening and spent more than an hour cutting kudzu free in a fear driven attempt to camouflage the Patriot. Unwilling to start a fire, but surprised by her appetite, Lisa snacked on cheese, crackers, and jerky. She broke into one of the flats of water she scavenged from the Jeep, sipping as she gazed warily passed the front seats out an uncovered gap in the windshield.

There were people like Travis' family out there, who would steal your stuff and leave you for dead. Then, there were people like whoever had killed Travis' family out there. They would take what they wanted, brutalize you, and then kill you. There were undead, things, out there, probably a lot of them, maybe thousands, maybe millions. She shuttered.

She was alone. Her mother was dead. Carrie and JJ were probably dead. Going to the cabin in Griffin was probably an exercise in futility.

The last of the faint blue light faded from the horizon. She leaned against the door, eyes closing unwillingly in exhaustion.

She had to be sure.

…...

It was overkill. She told herself that repeatedly as she snuck through the woods on the backside of the cabin. Yet, despite the temperature she had changed into the long sleeved camo shirt she used for hunting and she had stopped by the creek bank to wipe mud over her face. The 30-30 swung from her shoulder. Lisa already knew it was a last resort.

The smell of wood smoke floated in the air, which let her know someone was residing in the building, but didn't tell her if they were friend or foe. Close to the top of the hill she slid to her knees and crawled toward the rise.

Positioning herself in a thicket of brush, Lisa brought the scope up and peered toward the house. A fire was going in the pit outside and Carrie's Subaru was parked out front. Hope surged through her before her ears snagged on distant male voices.

The door banged open and a young man, through the scope he looked late teens, went to tend whatever was cooking over the fire. The repetitive sound of a maul drew her attention to a thin copse of dogwood on the far side of the drive. It took a moment of adjusting, and some discreet shuffling, to make out the much older man chopping wood. Neither of the people were familiar, both were making far too much noise.

She watched the group for another hour, counting three other men, a girl around the first boys age, and finally an older woman who came out to pump water. Lisa's entire body froze when she recognized the little boy who followed the woman out as JJ.

…...

She'd been surviving in the woods for two days before she noticed a change in the men. They became more wary, scanned their surroundings more. Lisa had no doubts they had caught on to her presence. In her efforts to ascertain JJ's situation she had wandered close to the camp each night. Even though she was careful, with no light to double check, no matter how paranoid she was about leaving footprints, she had to have left some sign.

Lisa spent the third and fourth day up in a hastily built tree blind. It was uncomfortable. She could smell herself. And when she had to relieve herself it meant venturing off for several yards. She was leaving a mess of trails. That wasn't to mention the three Geeks she'd killed and hastily covered with forest detritus.

Getting caught was only a matter of time.

…...

"Don't move."

Flashbacks of the parking lot played in her mind and her fingers twitched.

"Turn around, slowly. Then use your right hand to drop the gun." It was a male voice, deep, a little husky.

Lisa felt adrenaline knock through her system, fear followed it. She'd been watching these people for a week. It didn't seem like there was anything wrong with them, but she had been mistaken before. JJ seemed in good health, good spirits even. She'd seen him laughing with the two teenagers and even playing tag. There was a difference between a young boy and a fully grown woman, however.

Her mind spun with plans of action. The rifle was too unwieldy to swing around quickly, but her pistol was fully loaded and in the holster on her belt. She turned slowly, telegraphing her movements toward the strap over her shoulder. With a slow shrug, the sling of the rifle fell into her palm. She slowly bent and placed it on the ground.

The man across from her had grey in his beard and just peppering his hair. Early forties? His shoulders were broad and the .22 he held wavered.

"You've been around here for awhile," he accused.

Straightening she answered, "Yes."

"Why?"

"You're at my cabin." The answer was true, but didn't tell the real reason. It did seem to catch the other man out however. He shifted slightly. The muzzle of his gun lowering a notch.

"Sorry." Social niceties and boundaries still seemed intact in him. "We just found a good place to lay in and…well the world's gone to hell." He trailed off with a shrug.

"It has," Lisa agreed. Her jaw tightened. "That little boy you have with you, he had a mother." The man's gun lowered further. "What did you do with her?" Lisa accused.

He looked offended. "Nothing," the man denied. "I mean, when the time came," he offered lamely.

Lisa's fingers inched toward her pistol and the other man stiffened. "What does that mean?"

"She was bit." His eyes ran over Lisa's figure.

She knew she probably looked rough and threatening. It was a comfort she never thought she'd need. She wondered if any of the desperation she felt shown through.

"If you knew her then you knew her family," he tested.

"I'm her family," Lisa answered. "Me and her son, who you have."

"And the others?" He prodded.

Lisa jerked her head in denial. "No others." After a moment of consideration she tacked on. "Dalton? His father. She might have mentioned him."

The man propped the gun on his shoulder, posture relaxing even as his eyes skirted over her belt of knives. "I think you should come with me." Whatever look she granted him with must have seemed aggressive as he held up a hand. "I don't know what made you twitchy about people. But it's just me and my family. We don't mean any harm," he tried to reassure, hunching in on himself to seem smaller.

Lisa squinted at him, feeling dried mud flake at the corner of her mouth. "I've heard that before."

"Alright," he agreed easily. "What would help?"

His patient tone made her shoulders slump. Realistically nothing but being around the group would help. She took comfort that JJ hadn't displayed anything but the body language of a child who felt safe.

"JJ," she decided. He was three years old. If he was scared of the people he was with, when faced with her, he would show it. "I wanna talk to JJ."

"We can do that." He gave a faint chagrined grimace. "Though my husband is gonna want to watch."

Tipping her chin back Lisa challenged, "From the steps."

…...

"Lili!"

The sound of that name in his voice broke an almost inhuman noise from her mouth. She dropped to her knees, arms out to catch the speeding ball of a child too young to understand what was going on around him.

He was happy, healthy. He was alive.

"I'm so glad to see you Jumpin Jack." She tried to keep her fingers from digging into his small back.

The faces of the family across from her instantly softened.

…...

"Can you tell me how it happened?" Lisa greedily scraped the last of the beans off her plate. It wasn't like she had been hungry that long, but it was amazing what even perceived scarcity could do to a person.

The man who had confronted her in the woods, Chuck, looked over at the man she'd seen with the maul earlier.

Maul-guy, Jeremy, cleared his throat. "Laura and I are from Griffin. She's dispatch for the county so we had a little advance warning. My brother came down and we thought, there's a lot of vacation and hunting cabins in the area…" He waved a hand and then let it fall back onto his slight belly. "We just picked one with an overgrown trail."

Lisa nodded in understanding. It was something her mother had fretted over. The place had been her father's pride. The thought of it being overgrown had warred with her mother's unwillingness to visit it as a widow.

"That little girl greeted us at the last gate with a rifle," Jeremy recalled with admiration. His face abruptly shifted into a sorrowful frown. "She already had the fever."

Hugh, Chuck's partner piped in, "The mite there said a bad man hurt his mama at the grocery."

They all swiveled their attention to where Chuck and Hugh's son, Brad, and Jeremy and Laura's daughter, Jenny, were distracting JJ.

"So she knew?" The question trailed off. At the sympathetic looks from around the campfire Lisa force herself to continue. "She knew what was happening to her?"

"Downright bossy, that girl was," Chuck confirmed. "When," he hesitated, "When she knew she wouldn't make it, she asked us to call her sister, you." He gave an apologetic wince. "It rang through to voicemail."

Lisa carefully set her plastic spoon down on her plate. From the timeline that would have been Thursday. "My car was stolen, phone was in it," she excused.

In her mind she couldn't help but to kick a dead man. Lisa rolled her shoulders, trying to physically remove the regret and anger clinging to her. Her eyes tracked again to where JJ was breaking sticks with the two teens at the base of the hillside.

"It's an odd thing to say, what with this being your land," Laura ventured, "But you're welcome to stay."

Lisa's shoulders hunched forward, the paper plate tilting precariously in her hand. The offer was more than tempting. If she had been on her own she never would have approached anyone after seeing what happened to Travis and his family. JJ put a new spin on things. She wasn't alone. And while she'd given up on the idea of children after her divorce, Jack deserved the best chance of survival, everything she could give him.

Her eyes traced the group gathered around the fire. "I'd like that."

…...