I DO NOT OWN THE WALKING DEAD. SHOUTOUT TO RED-CASE CRAZE FOR BETAING THIS STORY. THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS RACIAL SLURS. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

After Charlie split from Alan, he took off running as fast as he could; he did not dare to look back until he was absolutely certain he'd put some serious distance between the zombies and himself. Once he stopped hearing the growls of hunger, he turned his head and to his relief and worry...he was alone.

Eventually, Charlie stumbled upon a decrepit looking hospital but as he got closer, he saw that there were hundreds of white sheet wrapped bodies laid in tidy rows outside on the asphalt. It was a disgusting sight as the files and maggots were going to town on the corpses. Charlie raised his shirt above his nose as he slowly made his way into the building but even his make-shift mask did little to ward off the stench of death.

When the young boy entered the hospital, he realized that the stairway was pitch black. It was at that moment that Charlie gave himself a pat on the back for holding onto the flashlight from the thrift store. He turned it on and began heading up the stairs. When Charlie opened the door to the second floor, he was dismayed to see that the inside of the hospital did not really look much better than the outside of it. Now that there was natural light coming through the windows, Charlie found that he no longer required the flashlight, turning it off and putting it back in his pocket as he looked around, his heart sank at seeing bullet holes and blood splatters on the walls.

He walked toward a door at the other end of the corridor that said: Don't open, Dead Inside. When he approached it, the floor squeaked and the door started to push open; Charlie swallowed thickly, backing away to stand beside the nurses desk. Thankfully, there was a plank of wood and a thick chain and padlock that was placed, which prevented the doors from opening. Charlie was stunned to see pale and dirty hands reaching out to try to get at him, the claw like fingernails scratching at the edges of the door. Charlie turned around and hoofed it back down the hall, but he didn't get very far before he saw a middle aged man in a hospital gown slowly hobbling towards him.

"Thank God...it's good to see another person." The man said as Charlie walked over to him. He noticed that the man was hurt and Charlie put an arm around him to help him walk.

"We have to get out of here dude. Follow me, I know the way." The escapee replied as together they started walking back towards the exit.

"What's your name kid?" The man asked and his southern accented voice was rough and croaky, Charlie wondered how long this dude had been in here.

"Charlie...Charlie Grant." He replied hesitantly as they made their way to the stairway. "What's yours?"

"Rick Grimes." A natural silence enveloped the pair as Charlie pulled out his flashlight once more and helped guide Rick down the stairs and into the open.

Alan was hauling ass faster than he even knew he could.

He had eventually managed to get away from the zombies and found himself alone in the city.

He feared for Charlie and was beginning to seriously regret his decision to split up. As he made his way through the streets, he stumbled upon a dead body with a bullet wound in the head. Against his better judgement, he went through the stiff's pockets and found fifty bucks and a Rolex watch.

Alan walked alone for a few miles until he came on a highway that was packed to the brim with traffic. From what young Alan could ascertain, everyone seemed to be heading towards Atlanta. Alan knew that he wouldn't have the energy to walk all the way to the big city, so he began knocking on cars, hoping that someone would give him a lift. However, generosity was clearly lacking on this particular highway because every car that Alan went to refuse to open the car or told him to piss off. One driver actually opened his car door just to give Alan a hard punch to the gut.

"Piss off, ya rotten spook!" The bigot snapped as he closed the door and left Alan on the asphalt, clutching his stomach and gasping for air. As Alan slowly got to his feet, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see a nice but timid looking lady next to him.

"It's all right honey, I'm not gonna hurt you. I was with my son and a friend of ours in the car over there when I saw what happened." She said calmly as Alan took a breath and glanced over to where she was pointing.

"Yeah...I tried to get some help and…what kind of person opens their car door just to punch someone?" Alan said with a shake of his head. The lady hesitated but then smiled softly, waving her hand as she turned to leave.

"If you need a ride, we've got a spare seat." She led Alan over to the car where he found a scruffy looking guy in the driver's seat and a young boy in the back seat.

"Who is this?" The man asked, chewing his fingernail as Alan pulled out his ill-gotten gains.

"Look, I just need a ride to Atlanta. I'll make it worth your while; I got fifty bucks and a gold Rolex watch." The driver thought for a moment and then took them from Alan.

"Hop in." He commanded as Alan sat next to the boy and put his seat belt on.

"Thanks man, I appreciate it. My name's Alan."

"Shane Walsh," the driver said as he shook Alan's hand before turning to face the road again, looking at Alan in the rear view mirror. "This is Lori and her son Carl."

"It's nice to meet you." Alan said as he leaned back and tried to settle in. Certainly, Charlie would know to make his way to the city…wouldn't he?

CHARLIE AND ALAN HAVE BOTH FOUND FRIENDS IN LOW PLACES. REVIEWS NEEDED AND APPRECIATED.