I DO NOT OWN THE WALKING DEAD. SHOUT OUT TO RED-CASE CRAZE FOR THEIR BETA WORK ON THIS STORY.

(Charlie's POV)

After the crazy day that Charlie had, he zonked out on the spare bed that Morgan had set up. The last thing he heard was him and Rick talking about Lori and Carl and if they were still alive. When the morning came, Charlie woke up and saw Rick and the Joneses getting ready.

"We're leaving?" Charlie asked groggily as Rick nodded.

"Yeah, so get up and let's get moving." He demanded and Charlie quickly shook himself awake and got ready to follow Rick out of the house.

"Hopefully, the walkers have dispersed." Charlie muttered as Rick led the way, armed with a baseball bat, looking left and right uncertainly.

"Are we sure they're dead?" Rick asked once more as Morgan shook his head.

"You have to ask; just one more time...they're dead." The man vowed. "Except for something in the brain, that's why it's gotta be the head." One of the walkers came lumbering towards the 4 men and after a deep breath Rick bashed its skull in with a baseball bat. The zombie slaying seemed to take a bit out of Rick as he fell to his knees and gasped for air, clutching his ribs, right where his wound was.

"Are you alright?" Morgan asked, a small and concerned frown on his face as Duane looked up at his father.

"I need a moment." Mr. Grimes said as he caught his breath. Once he was able to stand with no pain, they headed over to the Grimes residence to get a vehicle.

"This is a nice place." Charlie remarked as he looked around.

"Glad you approve." Rick snapped, heading off into the house, leaving the others to trail behind him.

"Looks better than the other dump," Duane observed, earning a glare from his old man.

"They're alive, my wife and son...at least they were when they left." Rick announced, and Morgan and Charlie looked around.

"How can you know?" Morgan questioned skeptically. "By the look of this place..." He trailed off as Rick returned, shaking his head.

"I found empty drawers in the bedroom. They packed some clothes. Not a lot. But enough to travel."

"You know anybody could've broken in here and stolen clothes, right?" Duane muttered and Rick glanced his way before nodding shortly.

"You see the framed photos on the walls?" Rick pointed at the oddly clean patches on the walls. "Neither do I, some random thief took those too, you think? My photo albums and family pictures, they're all gone." Morgan sat down and started to chuckle, his eyes watering.

"Photo albums..." He shook his head, taking a deep and shuddering breath to steady himself. "My wife did the same thing. Here I am, packing survival gear and she's grabbing photo albums." Duane came over and stood next to his father, hoping to calm him down as his words trailed off.

"They're in Atlanta, I bet" The boy said firmly as Morgan collected himself and nodded.

"That's right." Mr. Jones agreed.

"Why there?" Rick asked, tilting his head and stepping closer.

"Huge refugee center," Morgan began, "they said it on the radio, before the broadcast stopped. Military protection, food, shelter...they told people to go there. Said to be safest."

"Plus they got that disease place." Duane added hopefully and Charlie frowned.

"You mean the CDC Atlanta chapter?" He inquired and Morgan gave him a nod.

"That's the one, the Center for Disease Control." Morgan said. "The lab coats said they were working on how to solve this thing." Before Charlie could respond, Rick came back with a set of keys, twirling them between his fingers as he glanced at each person in the room.

"Let's roll." He said with intent.

(Alan's POV)

When Alan woke up, he was hot and miserable. After the napalm strike, he and Amy had gone back to the others where it was decided that going into Atlanta was no longer an option. As everyone was freaking out, Shane gathered the group round and made an announcement.

"Listen y'all; there is no going to Atlanta anymore." He declared. "That means we need to find somewhere else to stay. Now I know that there is a quarry just a few miles from here, we can set up there until we figure something else out, who's with me?" Alan immediately agreed, as did Dale, Andrea and Amy, the Peletier family, Lori, Carl, and some guy named Glenn that was in a van behind Shane's car. Everyone got in their respective vehicles and followed Shane as he retraced his way to the Quarry from memory.

"You're sure that this place exists?" Lori asked skeptically, clutching her boy closer as Alan watched Shane rolling his eyes.

"Positive, Rick and I...we went camping there a few weeks before graduation." Shane replied solemnly, looking at the frightened woman in the rear view mirror.

"Who's Rick?" Alan questioned ignorantly and he felt like he'd misspoken as everyone's faces dropped.

"My daddy," Carl mumbled glumly, cheeks flushing red as Lori stroked his hair comfortingly.

"He was my husband and Shane's partner on the police force...he didn't make it." Lori added as Alan was filled with sadness and fear.

On the one hand, he was sad that these people had lost a loved one but on the other hand, Alan was scared because he was trapped in a car with a cop; being a juvenile detention escapee, this was the last place he wanted to be.

Eventually, they reached the campsite and parked their vehicles near the center. The group set up the basic essentials and left the stuff that could wait until morning before trying to get some sleep.

As Alan started his day, he saw that some more survivors had come into the camp during Shane's evening watch. Among them was a Latino family and two redneck looking guys who seemed not out of place at all in a zombie apocalypse TV show. Alan saw Amy stocking supplies and went over to talk.

"Who are the new guys?" He jerked his chin towards the pair as Amy shrugged.

"That's the Morales family and I don't know about the rednecks...one of them is named Daryl...I think." She replied softly, as if worried they would hear her and as if on que, the elder of the two looked over.

"Are they staying?" Alan continued as he watched the newbies interact with Shane, who didn't seem to like the Redneck's too much either.

"If they are, I hope they have some survivalist skills, we are sure going to need them." Amy replied wistfully as she put a hand on Alan's shoulder.

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