I DO NOT OWN THE WALKING DEAD.

Charlie's POV

The father and son took Charlie and Rick into their house before more zombies could come; the door was quickly locked and the already boarded up windows were covered with tarps for safety.

"Name's Morgan Jones, that's my son Duane." The man said, introducing the pair as he helped Charlie lay Rick out on a bed before binding the unconscious man's hands to the headboard.

"Charlie Grant and that's Rick Grimes." The younger man returned and while they waited for Rick to come to, Charlie explained how he and Rick had met in the first place. He decided to leave out the part about escaping from juvenile detention, he even left out Alan, think that Morgan wouldn't trust him if a mystery person was mentioned. Eventually old man Grimes came to, Morgan came over and began to feel his head, which Rick resisted at first until he realized what was going on.

"Hey. Just let me," Morgan said as he copped a feel. "Feels cool enough, the fever would've killed you by now."

"I don't think I have one." Rick said defiantly and the other man smirked.

"Be hard to miss." Morgan replied before putting a knife before Rick's eyes, closer to his face than Charlie was comfortable with.

"Hey, take it easy dude." Charlie muttered nervously but he kept his hands raised.

"Take a moment, look how sharp it is. You try anything and I will kill you with it…and don't you think I won't." Rick was frozen while Morgan cut him free. "Come on out when you're able."

"This place, it was Fred and Cindy Drake's." Rick announced as he and Charlie walked downstairs where they saw dinner being prepared.

"Never met them," Morgan replied flatly, not turning his head to look at his guests.

"I've been here. This is their place."

"It was empty when we got here." Duane insisted, as he spoke Rick started to peel the blankets on the windows back but he didn't get very far before Morgan shut him down cold.

"Don't do that, they'll see the light." Morgan snapped. "There are more of them out there than usual," he shook his head, "I never should have fired that gun today. The sound draws them, now they're all over the street. Stupid...it all happened so fast, I didn't think." Rick and Charlie sat down at the table as Morgan served the food, a simple affair of beans and water.

"You shot that man today." Rick stated.

"Man?" Morgan asked incredulously.

"It weren't no man." Duane muttered darkly, as Morgan turned on his boy, one eyebrow raised.

"What the hell was that out of your mouth just now?" He demanded and Charlie figured that Morgan was a grammar Nazi, but kept his mouth shut.

"It wasn't a man." Duane repeated, his father nodded approvingly at the corrected grammar.

"You shot him in the street out front." Rick insisted. "Clear as day, we both saw it." His hand gestured to Charlie, who felt awkward being caught in the middle like this.

"Friend, you need glasses. It was a Walker." Morgan clarified.

"Walker, otherwise known as a Zombie, Rick," Charlie clarified as Rick shook his head. "You saw that girl in the park, man."

"Daddy, we gotta say blessing." Duane reminded his dad as Morgan relented and they moved to hold hands. Rick joined in, but Charlie didn't.

"Grab hands." Morgan commanded and with a shake of his head, Charlie tucked his hands together in his lap.

"No thanks; God turned his back on me a long time ago, even before the Walkers showed up, he ain't gonna start caring now." Charlie replied bitterly as Morgan narrowed his eyes and moved on from the issue.

"Father, we thank thee for this food...thy blessings...we ask you to watch over us in these crazy days. Amen." he recited.

"Amen." Rick and Duane added as everyone picked up their spoons and began to eat.

"You even know what's going on?"

"I woke up today in the hospital, found Charlie, came home and that's all I know." Rick's voice was quiet, his tone only made him seem weaker, more vulnerable and Morgan sighed, pushing his food around.

"But you know about the dead people, right?" He inquired and Rick nodded steadily.

"Yeah, we saw a lot of that, out on the loading dock, piled in trucks."

"It was nasty to look at, even nastier to smell." Charlie recalled as he shoveled another spoonful of beans into his mouth.

"No, I don't mean the one's they put down...the one's they didn't." Morgan clarified. "That Walker he would have ripped into you, tried to eat you, take him some flesh at least. But I guess if this is the first you're hearing, I know how it must sound."

"They're out there now, in the street?" Rick asked and his face was pale and clammy as he glanced at the windows.

"Yeah, they're even more active after dark sometimes." Morgan nodded while he kept explaining. "Maybe it's the cool air or...Hell, maybe it's just me firing up that gun today. But we'll be fine, as long as we stay quiet. They'll probably wander off by morning."

"This is freaking insane, I didn't sign up to be in zombie apocalypse." Charlie muttered angrily, he was pissed that he had gone from one Hellhole to another, except this hellhole was the entire State.

"Well, listen, one thing I do know, don't you get bit!" Morgan warned. "We saw your bandage and that's why we were afraid. Bites kill you. The fever burns you out. But then after a while...you come back."

"Seen it happen." Duane whispered and Charlie glanced at Rick before putting his head in his hands.

He was almost beginning to miss being in juvie...almost.

(Alan's POV)

Evening was beginning to fall and the traffic still wasn't moving.

Shane and Dale were getting along well enough, Lori had made friends with a lady named Carol, and Alan had even managed to strike up a conversation with the younger Harrison sister…total win.

"So, what college do you go to?" Alan asked, trying to be cool and collected.

"Well, I got my associate's degree at Sankofa community college and now I'm getting my bachelor's at Georgia State." Amy replied as she sat on the back of Shane's car with Alan, the complaints of the other stuck drivers whistled around like annoying wind.

"What you gonna do if all this is just a fluke?" He continued, wanting to gather as much information about this woman as he could without being creepy.

"I wanna be a therapist, help people...be a friend, ya know?" Amy answered, looking at him for confirmation and he nodded slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"That's noble of you." He allowed as she rolled her eyes and smiled.

"It runs in my blood I guess, Andrea's a civil rights lawyer." Amy explained. Alan was about to reply when they heard booms in the distance. Amy was startled for a brief moment as was her friend.

"What was that?" Alan asked.

"I have no idea." Amy admitted, her brow furrowed in worry and the two began to take off in the direction of the sounds, but cautiously. Once they got into the woods, they were horrified to see the military dropping some kind of fire bombs on the city.

"Charlie!" Alan exclaimed and he tried to run towards Atlanta, but he was stopped by Amy's hand gripping the back of his shirt tightly.

"It's too dangerous!" She cried, she stumbled after him, but to her credit she didn't let him go.

"Let me go, he's in there...Charlie!" Alan cried out as he lost the fight and leaned his head on Amy and he wept for his life-long, lost friend. The therapist to be wrapper her arms tightly around Alan and let him cry, shamelessly and if she felt awkward, Amy didn't let on…he respected her more for that,

"Shh...It'll be OK...somehow...there's always a chance he wasn't there...your friend Charlie, maybe he wasn't there." She whispered and Alan felt a little better.

Although he faced the possibility of losing Charlie, his best friend since forever, he looked to be gaining a new sense of friendship here, on the congested highway outside the Atlanta massacre. Alan now prayed that Charlie came back alive…alive and not turned.

WILL CHARLIE SURVIVE? REVIEWS NEEDED AND APPRECIATED.