Rated M for violence and gore that starts at chapter 3.

On the day that the world ended, her life finally began. It was like the fog lifted and something that was inside her all along, dormant and hidden, had awoken. While everyone else was busy panicking, she finally felt the world shift into startling focus.

It had begun like any other day. She was in the office, her chin propped in her hand as she watched the minutes tick by on the clock. Ten minutes past their scheduled meeting time. Fifteen. Thirty.

At forty-five minutes, she sighed and swung around her desk to reach for the phone and ring the secretary, Abby. Another no-show. They'd have to drop him as a client at this point.

She'd already begun to draw up the necessary files on the computer to close his account when the door burst open. It was Abby. Oh. That explained why she wasn't answering the front desk.

Her mind quickly shifted gears again when she took Abby's frazzled appearance. The unfocused panic her eyes also caught Nicole's attention, and she turned from her desk with the full intent of suggesting Abby use a personal day for whatever emergency had clearly happened.

"My husband's on his way here," Abby said in a rush. Nicole noticed that in the hall behind her, several co-workers darted back and forth. They looked frenzied, some with ties loosened on their necks and one with their belongings gathered haphazardly in their arms. One particularly determined man bumped into Abby, causing her to stumble into Nicole's office and open the door all the way.

It revealed chaos outside.

"Hello?! Nicole!"

Abby always called her Ms. Walsh. Never Nicole, despite her countless requests to drop the formality. Nicole blinked again and looked back at Abby, not quite able to recover quickly enough from her mental whiplash. After almost an hour of quiet monotony, it was hard to muddle through the haze she was suddenly in.

Nicole decided to try and start with some clarification. "What's going on? Why's everyone leaving? Did something happen? Is there… a gas leak or somethin'?" She pushed away from her desk.

"Haven't you been listening?!" Abby pointed over at the television. "The Wildfire Virus! It's outta control."

With an eyebrow raised, Nicole couldn't help but look at Abby like she was crazy. "Okay…" She shook her head, not understanding. "We already knew that. They've been calling it 'out of control' for months now. That doesn't explain why people are panicking."

"Ugh, there's no time!" Abby exclaimed, and then pointed frantically at the TV. "Hurry! Unmute that!"

Breaking news played on the television mounted in the corner of her office. Nicole pulled open the top drawer of her desk to root around for the remote and then quickly turned the volume up high, to be heard over the clamoring in the hall.

"—advising everyone experiencing these symptoms to go into quarantine in their homes for now, and to call the number on your screen, or go to the website listed below to register. The National Guard will be going through neighborhoods this evening to escort anyone with symptoms to Harrison Memorial Hospital. It is extremely important that you wait for them and cooperate with the authorities at this time. This is not only for the general public's safety, but for your own safety as well.

"Again, for those of you just joining us, the story is still developing, and we will update you as information continues to come in.

"What we know as of now is that the Wildfire Virus has escalated. The best explanation we can get is that some sort of incubation period has passed, and the virus is spreading too fast to control—this is highly, highly contagious and believed to be extremely dangerous.

"What many have believed to be exaggeration has now become devastating reality. It seems that those who were infected with the virus are dying at faster and faster rates, and after dying, the corpses are somehow… reanimating.

"It is believed that the virus is transmitted through blood and saliva, but nothing has been confirmed yet. It extremely important that anyone showing symptoms quarantine themselves as soon as possible, and everyone else should maintain a minimum of at least six feet distance from the infected at all times."

"Some of the infected have become dangerous. If you see someone acting irrationally, please maintain your distance and call the number on your screen immediately. At this time the authorities have requested that the public should avoid using 911 until further notice, as the emergency lines have been flooded since earlier this morning and you will be unable—"

Nicole turned to frown at Abby. "What the hell is this—" but the woman was gone. In fact, most everyone was gone. The hallway had quieted. She stood from her seat and yanked the blinds up to peer outside.

On the streets below, chaos greeted her. It looked like a scene torn straight out of a movie about the apocalypse. People ran around in a panic. Cars had crashed into stop signs or each other. Some of them were abandoned in the street with their doors left wide open, no driver in sight.

An unfamiliar black truck tore up the sidewalk of their building and screeched to a halt. A man climbed out and left the driver door open. He circled around the front with a baseball bat in his hand. Someone on the sidewalk turned around from where they'd been crouched over a fallen figure.

Nicole gasped and pressed closer to the window for a better view when she realized the fallen figure on the ground was dead. Blood spilled out around them, their shirt torn, and chest splayed open like a—

The person who had been crouched over him still moved toward the man from the truck. With their arms outstretched, it seemed like the man from the truck was shouting at them to stay back. He had his bat poised, ready to strike.

Despite the shouted warnings the person lunged at the man, and he swung the bat at them. Nicole exclaimed as she watched the man wallop the person in the gut, sending them staggering back a few steps. But they just kept coming. They reached toward him and made a swipe at his face.

The man lifted the bat high and brought it straight down on the person's head. They collapsed in a heap at his feet, and he took several large steps back to create some much-needed distance.

Nicole wasn't sure how to feel. Her breath caught in her throat. Had she just witnessed a murder? Was it self-defense? Her brain rationalized that the person hadn't died—couldn't be dead. People don't just kill someone in broad daylight like that! It just doesn't happen!

Another figure came into view. A woman darted out of the side exit below. Abby. She rushed into the man's arms, and he dropped the bat to catch her in an embrace. Behind them, the person Nicole had assumed was dead on the ground rolled to their feet. Blood poured from the wound on their head, but still, they climbed to their feet.

Even from such a high distance three floors above, Nicole could see that the person was looking at the couple with singular focus. And they had no idea.

She shouted at them, pounding the glass, desperate to catch their attention.

The blood covered person staggered and teetered unsteadily on their feet, so unstable that it seemed a well-timed gust of wind might knock them down, but they were determined to drag their feet towards the couple. She watched and pounded helplessly on the glass window as they flung their self onto the embracing couple.

Abby screamed so loudly that Nicole could hear its shrill, shrieking tone even from stories up. She watched in horror as the man—presumably Abby's husband—was attacked by this deranged person.

With their arms wrapped tightly around him, they stuck their blood-soaked face in the crook of his neck even as he thrashed and tried to throw them off.

For a long moment, Nicole was confused about what had happened. Finally, the person yanked their head up off his neck… and all thoughts ground to a halt in Nicole's mind as she realized what had happened.

Abby's husband… the person had bitten a chunk of his neck clean off.

Abby continued screaming but now she lunged for the bat. Her husband lay bleeding out on the sidewalk, gasping for air as he pawed at the gaping wound on his neck—clearly in shock—and Abby's face was one of pure vengeance as she scrambled to get a proper grip on the bat.

The deranged person—sensing that Abby was intent to do more than stand by and scream—wheeled around, their movements jerky and awkward like a puppet with its strings cut. Their head lolled to the side, and they dragged their feet across the sidewalk towards Abby.

She swung the bat, not nearly as forceful as her husband had been—but enough to knock the person to the side. They leaned into the blow and flung their arm out to parry the blow—and knocked the bat from her hands. Nicole cried out and pressed a hand to the window as the bat flew from Abby's grasp as though she could reach down and catch it.

Nicole watched in horror as Abby tried to dodge out of the way of the person's following strike, but tripped over her husband's body. She tried to crawl backwards, but the person—or thing—just fell to its knees and grabbed onto her ankle, dragging her backward. Nicole's heart soared as she watched Abby kick its head once—twice.

It tried to shake the blows off but when she struck out a third time, she managed to knock it away. Freed, Abby flipped over and scrambled to stand. The thing struggled to recover and rolled on its side to find its bearings.

Abby got to her feet and took off at a stuttering run, limping because apparently it had managed to injure her ankle. It fumbled to rush after her.

Nicole watched as Abby fled and the thing pursued until she lost sight of them. Back on the sidewalk, blood began to pool under her husband's body.

For a long moment Nicole stood, frozen. Her mind struggled to process what she had seen. Instinct told her to grab the phone and alert the police to what she witnessed—there could still be time to catch Abby, to rescue her—

But the streets. There were cars everywhere, abandoned. Dead people on the sidewalk. A deranged man running around biting people's necks and God only knows what else! Everyone in the office had abandoned work. No one was left. She was the only one, as far as she knew, still there. Standing there like a dazed coma patient who had just woken out of a deep, deep slumber.

She sucked in a deep breath and blinked. The newscast had advised not to call 911, made it sound like the line wouldn't even go through. But what the hell, she tried it anyway—and got a busy tone.

On the TV that still played in the background, other numbers rolled past for her to call. She considered using them for a moment and then dropped the desk phone and opened the top desk drawer, feeling for her cellphone.

She had twelve missed calls. All from Shane, who, as far as she knew, was supposed to be on duty. Something had to be very wrong for him to call during his shift. The reality began to settle in her mind that whatever was going on outside, whatever she had witnessed and heard on the news—it was not an isolated incident. Something big was going down.

Shane picked up on the second ring.

"Nicole?" He sounded winded. "God damnit, I've been callin' you all damn morning! Where the hell have you been?"

"Work—"

A sound mixed between a snort and a choking noise came from his end. "Never mind, listen to me—"

"Shane," she interrupted. "Shane—something's wrong—I just saw this man—he… he attacked someone on the street and—and I think they're dead! Or hurt! I don't know!"

"Where is he now?" She heard what sounded like a car door shutting as he continued. "Do you have your gun?"

Part of her wasn't even surprised that Shane didn't question the veracity of her claim. Nicole didn't exaggerate and she never jumped to conclusions. In fact, it was something that Shane at times hated about her—how she would often play the devil's advocate in situations he would rather her just agree with him.

"A gun? No! Not with me—I told you I'm working!"

"Damn it!" It sounded like he pounded his fist on a steering wheel, and she was now certain that he had climbed into a car. "What was the point in getting a license to carry if you refuse to keep yourself armed?"

"It wasn't my idea to get that license in the first place, if you recall!" She shouted back. "You're the one who trained me—who made me get it!"

"Yes, for situations like this!" She could hear that he was truly angry with her in the tone of his voice. He took a long breath and then blew it out sharply. "All right. All right, fine. Listen to me, Nicole: stay there," Shane ordered. "I'm coming to get you. Where's the man now? He in the buildin' or where's he at?"

"He—he took off outside! He was outside, I watched it from the window in my office. He chased after Abby and I lost sight of them."

Shane didn't bother asking who Abby was. For one, she knew he didn't really care—but for two, he had a habit of focusing on the bigger picture, and in the grand scheme of things, detailing Abby as the receptionist who just suddenly and violently became a widow in front of her face didn't really matter.

"Don't go outside. Barricade your office, push your desk in front of the door and stack anything that isn't nailed down on top of it. And wait for me."

"Hang on a second, Shane—aren't you working?"

He spat a bitter laugh. "Took a personal day."

She echoed his laugh, though she didn't really feel any humor in it. "Sure, bet that went over real well. I saw the news. People have been calling the police nonstop. Right?"

"Yeah, well, we got families too."

"Well, what have you been doing all day, then?"

"I had to go check on Rick."

She pressed a hand to her head. "Shit—I totally forgot. He's in the hospital! What happened—I mean, did you get to see him?"

"They're not letting anyone in." Shane sounded extremely discontent at this development. "Family members only. It's locked down 'cause they're quarantinin' the infected, triaging and shit. The National Guard moved in already."

"Shit," she breathed.

"Yeah," he shortly agreed. "Shit's right. But I was able to get a status update on him, at least. They say he's fine—nothin' changed. Still in his personal room, I made sure of that. They won't take any infected people in there with him no matter how full-to-capacity they get, too risky."

"Good!" She paused. "And Lori?"

"She's at home with Carl," he said. "Talked to her this mornin'. She kept him home from school."

"No doubt at your instruction," Nicole guessed.

"I thought it was the wisest decision. Just trying to do what Rick would want. Keep 'em safe. I owe him that much, at least." He sounded somber, guilt-ridden.

"He would do the same for you," Nicole assured him. "You did the right thing."

"Yeah," Shane sighed. "Listen, I'm pullin' up now."

She looked down at the street below and saw a deputy cruiser pull up, no lights or sirens blaring. The door opened and her brother stepped out, his gaze zeroing in instantly on the limp form of Abby's husband. "Wait for me—don't come out 'till I get there."

It had only been two months since the Outbreak, but life as they knew it was over. The government had not just collapsed, but seemed to have evaporated into thin air overnight. There were no more grocery stores, you couldn't get gas for your car to travel—no one had jobs. Almost no one she and Shane met since the Outbreak had even chosen to stay in their home.

Everyone fled, forced out either by the infected or by misguided advice. Many had rushed towards supposed designated 'safe zones' like the authorities had advised them in the very beginning, before the news stations went dark.

She was in one such 'safe zone' right now. Actually, it was the Safe Zone of safe zones. Atlanta.

What a load of shit. There was nothing remotely safe about the city anymore. It was overrun with them.

With the demonic, feral beings.

Not even human anymore, they moved with only the instinct to attack and feast on anything with flesh and blood, be they dead or alive. It didn't matter to them. They were slow and easy to evade, but get them in a hoard and they became a lot harder to dodge.

One bite. One bite was all it took to become infected. Whether it was something in their saliva or simply an infection due to lack of resources to treat a bite wound, there was no stopping it. From there, it was only a matter of time until you became one of them. And here in the city, you couldn't take two steps without being surrounded by at least fifteen of the beasts.

Maybe it was reckless to volunteer to return to such dangerous conditions. Shane certainly thought so. But he didn't seem to understand the risks if they didn't. While safety was his top priority, survival was Nicole's.

Food was becoming harder and harder to come by, and their group camping up at the Quarry only seemed to grow. That was a lot of mouths to feed.

And despite what the Dixon brothers believed, a human body could not subsist on squirrel and hare meat alone. They would need more than just lean protein to keep from starving. As absurd as it sounded, they could each eat two bunnies a day and it wouldn't be enough. They'd still be at risk of starvation in another few months.

It was because of the way the human body digested calories. She couldn't exactly remember, but it was something like thirty percent of the calories that you ingest are burnt on the energy it takes to digest them. Meaning that if you were to eat one hundred calories, only seventy of those calories are usable. The other thirty are burnt during the digestion process alone. That was why it was so important to find foods that are rich in fat, to balance your diet and ensure that you can keep your weight up—keep yourself from starving.

It was a lesson that she was taught early in life, one that Shane knew as well—had even taught to her—yet he still thought the cities were too dangerous to risk scavenging.

And despite their food-stock situation, the more often they ventured back to the city, the more she was inclined to agree with him. Atlanta's condition seemed to only get worse, not better, no matter how much time passed. Things never died down like she thought they might.

"What are you thinking so hard about over there?" Jacqui asked.

Nicole blinked to clear her thoughts away and drew in a deep breath. She smiled ruefully at the woman's curious gaze and shook her head. "Just wondering if I might be better off lookin' for a fishing pole instead of trying to spot more snacks."

"A fishing pole?" Andrea snorted. "You don't strike me as the type."

Nicole raised a hand to indicate she was so-so at the task. "I never claimed to be an expert. I'm just thinking that fish are high in omega-three—the best kind of fat, and camp is right by a quarry anyway. Maybe coming out to the city is getting to be too risky. Might need to start searching closer to home."

"We don't just come out here looking for food," Jacqui pointed out. "We need to find as many blankets and clothes to prepare for winter now, while we have the chance."

"True…" Nicole sighed. "Probably should keep an eye out for insulated sleeping bags too. I never thought I'd have to think about survival like this."

"You're pretty good at it. We're lucky to have you and Shane at camp, otherwise we'd probably have accidentally poisoned everyone with the wrong type of mushrooms weeks ago," Andrea observed, causing Nicole to smirk. She looked thoughtful. "Hey, do you really think fish are that important?"

Nicole nodded grimly. "I think they're going to be essential, and sooner rather than later. We can't count on canned goods. We should start saving those for desperate times, take advantage of the fish while we still can. Before the water eventually freezes over. I definitely don't know how to ice fish."

Andrea hummed and continued to browse around the shop. "Amy and I can take care of that."

"Yeah?" Nicole looked at her and Andrea smiled back with a nod.

"Sure. We grew up fishing."

"Do you have poles, though? Wire? Lures?"

"I'd bet you three weeks of wash that Dale does," Andrea said, her voice dipping into irony. "That man's got everything stowed away in that camper."

"Wish he had a coffee maker," Jacqui muttered, causing the other two women to laugh.

Then, a loud pop outside rattled the glass windows at the front of the store. Everyone froze. Slowly, Nicole looked up and met Andrea's gaze. Her blue eyes were blown wide with fear and dread, and Nicole dropped the shirt in her hands and strode across the floor.

More muffled pops followed in quick succession as she strode down the main aisle towards the exit. Glenn came from the right, where he and Morales had been checking out the sporting goods section for any usable weapons or equipment.

Glenn was pulling on his newly stuffed, heavy looking backpack as he approached—apparently he'd scavenged some useful items. "Tell me that's not what it sounds like!"

"What idiot would be out there firing a gun?!" Andrea hissed.

"Someone with a death wish!" Morales exclaimed. "Damn, look at them all!"

The undead had been pretty scattered and lethargic so far that day. Sure, they looked demonic—literally decaying corpses standing upright and stumbling around—but when left alone for extended periods of time, they were surprisingly docile. Like spotting a faraway congregation of alligators, if you kept your distance and stayed quiet, the potential for danger was low. But never zero.

But if you start blasting off gun shots? Well, that was like blasting an alarm in their ears.

Their group watched in horrified silence as the beasts suddenly snapped awake. Their gazes sharpened and they sought out the source of the loud noise. Their heads swiveled almost in tandem, and they all turned to drift down the street like the shifting tide.

Like a leak in a boat, it escalated quickly. In the space of one breath to the next, the hoard had collected into a mob. There were so many of them out there that they started to bump into each other. As they moved, those few on the outskirts of the group were expelled like rubble to fall right against the exit of the store.

Nicole took an unconscious step back when one was pushed face-first into the glass just three feet in front of her. A soft gasp came from Jacqui, and everyone seemed to hold their breath.

"It's tinted," Nicole quietly insisted. "The glass is mirrored on their side. No way they'll be smart enough to look in and actually see us."

But the mob only grew thicker and thicker, and the thicker it grew, the more of them were pressed against the glass hard enough that their faces were squashed right against the window. And just like before when she saw their gaze sharpen in response to the gunfire, one of them seemed to focus on her figure through the glass and somehow caught her gaze. They locked eyes and she froze in place.

"Uhhhh, guys," Glenn nervously said, "I think they're noticing us!"

The beast fought against the bodies pinning it to the glass and started banging on the window. Another one was shoved roughly against the window beside it. She felt like a fish peering back at a cat on the other side of its tank.

Nicole swore under her breath and turned in a circle, her mind racing.

"Where do we go?!" Jacqui asked. "That's how we got in!"

"There's got to be another exit," Nicole reasoned. "No way we can make it through there now."

Morales snapped his fingers as he thought out loud. "Okay—okay, uhhhh—what if one of us goes to check for an alternate route?"

"It's okay," Glenn spoke up. "You can just say it. You all think I should go, right?"

Andrea shrugged apologetically, though it didn't look altogether sincere. "You know the city best out of all of us, no one here can do it better!"

"We don't have time to argue about it!" Jacqui pointed out. "Whoever is going, they better get out there quick!"

"I'll go," Nicole offered.

"What?!" Glenn shook his hands frantically. "No, don't be stupid! You stay and protect the others, I'll go. Everyone wait here!"

"We don't need her to protect us!" Andrea tried to correct, but Glenn was already running towards the back door to the alley outside, his bag bouncing on his back as he went. "You worry about yourself and be careful!"

"Wait!" Nicole ran and caught up to him in the back room, which must have been once been a break room.

Glenn turned impatiently.

"Take this." She tossed her walkie-talkie and he caught it.

"But mine—"

"Yours is shit!" She cut off. "It's too staticky! It makes no sense for you to have the shittiest one in the group; you're the one who needs it to work the most since we always send you out!"

At that, he drew up short. He nodded at her and then turned to peek out the door. She leaned around his shoulder and peeked as well.

"Clear for now," Glenn observed aloud, as though to reassure himself. He took a breath and then looked back at her. She pulled her gun out and flicked the safety off, wordlessly reassuring him that she'd have his back. "Wish me luck," he muttered.

"Break a leg."

"I'd rather not!"

She smirked and pushed him out the door.

It turned out that Morales and Glenn had found unopened boxes of brand new baseball catcher's gear in the sporting section. Now, Nicole and Morales strapped into a thick chest protecter, legs guards and a helmet.

Wearing this equipment meant they could go into the alley and dispatch walkers without using a gun. With their skin covered by a thick layer of padding, they could afford to get up close and personal—use blunt objects to beat the monsters off and buy enough time to run, without having to waste precious ammo or risk drawing attention through the sound of gunfire.

"I don't like this," Jacqui muttered.

"No one's enjoying this, Jacqui," snapped Andrea.

"Let's all calm down," Nicole calmly interjected. "Anyone heard from Dixon?"

"No," Morales said. "He took off to go search through the women's panties or some sick shit. Stopped keeping track of him after that."

Nicole frowned at that. "Shouldn't we try to get in touch with him? Make sure he didn't wander outside and get his ass eaten?"

Morales snorted at the thought. "If only," he muttered.

"Awwww, you're so sweet, sugar," Merle drawled from nearby, as though he had been lurking just out of sight, spying on them, waiting for the perfect moment to make a dramatic entrance. "Look at y'all," he continued, strolling down the aisle with Merle's special brand of swagger on full blast. "All gussied up and nowhere to go. Whatchu plannin' now? Gonna sneak out and bonk a few biters over the head? Clear us a path? And no one thought to include Ol' Merle on these plans? What, you gonna leave me?" He tilted his head and tutted at them. "After all me'n my brother done for you? Mighty ungrateful of ya, don'tcha think?"

"Would you shut up for two seconds and let us talk?" Andrea snapped.

Merle's eyes flashed like he wanted to retort, but Nicole butted in. "Hard to keep track of you when you're always dartin' off the first chance you get, Dixon. We aren't here to hold your hand—who are we supposed to be, your mommy?"

Merle chuckled lowly at that and began to edge closer to her, licking his lips with a lustful gaze. "My, oh my—there's just somethin' about the sight of a woman in a man's uniform... tell you what, sweetheart: you get naked under all that, I might even let you spank me—"

"All right!" Morales interrupted, shoving between them to push Merle back a good distance. "Enough!"

"You know her brother'd tan your hide if he heard you talkin' to her that way," Jacqui scolded Merle in disgust.

"That supposed to scare me?" Merle sneered. "He's too busy chasin' after that brunette—"

"Okay, look," Nicole interrupted. "The truth is we can use your help."

Merle cackled. "Awww, here we go, now. This should be good!"

"You're the only one with a rifle," Nicole explained. "You can head to the roof and keep watch with that scope. Make sure Glenn gets back okay."

"I could," Merle agreed. "But why would I do that?"

"You want to get out of here, don't you? Get back to your brother?"

"Just when all the fun's startin'?" Merle laughed and then dropped his smile, his face dead serious. Something in his gaze made a part of her lizard brain bristle and urge her to take a few steps back. "My brother can watch after himself for a few hours."

Nicole let none of her inward feelings show. Keeping a straight face, she looked him straight in the eye. "We need your help, Merle. Just go to the roof and call us if you see anything too bad."

"What constitutes as 'too bad' these days, girlie?" Merle asked, planting a thoughtful hand on his chin. "I can already tell ya, shit's too bad out there. We're surrounded. What else would you like to know?"

"Just go!"

"All right!" Merle snapped back. "I'm going, but not because you told me to. Because I might just fit in some target practice up there."

"Wait—" Morales said, but Nicole thwacked his arm to shut him up. They watched as Merle strolled over to the stairwell to head for the roof, knocking over a rack of clothes as he went.

"He's going to get us killed!" Morales hissed.

"He was joking," Nicole dismissed, and Jacqui and Morales both looked at her like she was stupid. She shrugged at them. "At least, I think he was."

"You can't be serious—" Morales started, but Andrea cut him off.

"Actually—she's not wrong." Andrea gestured at where Merle had gone. "You really want him down here? Now? That man takes up all the air in the room when he's here. He never shuts up and he's always saying something stupid! We need to focus!"

Morales sighed heavily and Jacqui finally seemed to let it go, her shoulders slumping.

Nicole looked at the door that Glenn had disappeared through, her fingers tapping anxiously on the stick in her hand. "Come on…"

It felt like an eternity passed. Nicole was hyper aware of every single second that passed—every breath they took was loud, and the undead banging on the glass doors out front was deafening.

Eventually the walkie-talkie crackled. Glenn came over, explaining that he was not alone—that he had picked up some stranger—and that there were four geeks in the alley.

Though Nicole wanted to scream at him for bringing in yet another mouth to feed at a time like this, for turning this into a rescue mission, she bit her tongue and waited for Morales to join her by the door. She pressed her ear against it since there was no window and when they heard the sounds from the geeks get louder, she cracked it open to peek out.

"There he is!" Morales whisper-yelled in her ear, pointing at Glenn across the alley. Without further ado, they ran outside and quickly bashed their sticks into the geeks blocking Glenn's path, knocking them to the ground.

"Come on!" T-Dog yelled at Morales, who was still swinging away at his geek. Then they all headed for the door again, and Nicole barely had time to register that the stranger accompanying Glenn wore a familiar looking tan-and-brown uniform before they were back inside.

She thought she'd finally lost her mind when she saw who it actually was. Rick.

Rick?

"Rick!"

The man in question spun around, and Andrea came up short from where she'd just opened her mouth to scream at him—no doubt to ream him out for firing off so many shots and starting the whole mess in the first place—but everyone around them froze in shock as they realized that they knew each other.

"Nicky?" Rick frowned, sounding incredibly confused. "N-Nicky—is that you?!"

She tore her helmet off and launched herself at him. "I can't believe it!"

"I thought that was your voice! What are you doing here?" He asked, throwing his arms around her. "I'm so glad you're okay! I looked for you guys, but everyone was gone!"

She couldn't stop the tears from pooling in her eyes. Shock rocked her world as she pulled his face between her hands and tried hard to convince herself that he was real. "You—you were dead!"

"What?" Rick frowned and then studied her closer. Slowly, he shook his head. "No… I was still in the hospital."

Nicole dropped her hands and staggered back as the weight of what had happened hit her like a ton of bricks. "My God…"

"Would one of you explain what the hell is going on before I lose my mind?!" Andrea yelled. "Who is this man?!"

"Andrea, chill out!" T-Dog shouted. "Obviously they know each other!"

Nicole's hands shook as she nodded and gestured at Rick, trying to force herself to remain calm. "Y-Yes—he's—this is…" she trailed off and shook her head in bewilderment. Then she cleared her throat. "Um, this is Lori's husband."

Rick's face went pale. Then lit up, and he rushed forward to grab her by the shoulders. "She—they're alive? Carl too?"

"Holy shit," muttered Andrea, covering her mouth—a sentiment echoed by the rest of the group around them. They went silent and exchanged looks. Morales shrugged at T-Dog, who shook his head in amazement.

"They're alive and—and you know where they are?"

"Y-Yeah," she stuttered, nodding. "They're back at camp."

"Let's go!" Rick cried. "Right now, let's go!"

"We would love to," Andrea interrupted, finally finding her fury again. "Except you ruined that for everyone, didn't you?!"

Rick looked taken aback by the accusation, and the vehemence with which it was said. Admittedly, Andrea looked moments away from drawing her weapon on him. "What—"

"What the hell were you thinking, popping off shots in the city like that?!" Andrea continued.

"Hey—let me explain—" Nicole tried, and Andrea waved her off with the gun in her hand.

"No! No, don't do that! Don't take responsibility for his actions, I don't care who he is—"

"Andrea—you don't understand—"

"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know!" Rick defended. "And you're right, she's not responsible for my mistakes—"

"Can we just focus on what actually matters?" Glenn interjected, ever the voice of reason. "We need to get out of here, like, yesterday."

A beat passed as they all remembered the situation they were in, and everyone just looked at each other and waited for someone else to speak up.

Morales cleared his throat. "Uh—the roof," he said. "We could take a look up there. Try to get our bearings."

T-Dog nodded, and they all turned to leave in the direction Merle had gone earlier.

Rick quickly found her side again and the rest of the group separated from them a bit to give them at least the semblance of privacy. "Nicole, what the hell happened?"

"What do you mean?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Gonna have to be a bit more specific, because—a lot. A lot has happened. It's been two months. Feels longer."

"Not for me," Rick admitted. "For me, it feels like I've been asleep for a while, and just woke up, and now everything is…" he gestured vaguely.

Nicole sighed. They tried to keep their voices low as they hung at the back of the group, making their way up the stairwell, which carried a pretty intense echo. "Holy shit," she muttered to herself. "I can't believe you're really alive."

"To be honest, me neither. I don't understand what happened while I was gone. Where's Shane?" He looked around as though expecting her brother to materialize nearby. "He's not with you? I can't believe he'd let you out of his sight during this."

"Uh—well… things are a little different." Rick looked impatiently at her, like they had already well established that things were different and now he was ready for some explanations. She sighed again and tucked some hair behind her ear. "I mean, he trusts me more now. More than ever before. I come out here to the city from time to time with this group, whenever we need to scavenge. He stays back at camp. He's kind of… in charge." She glanced at him and hurriedly added, "Kind of. Unofficially, I mean."

"Where's camp?" Rick asked.

"It's at the Quarry. The reservoir not too far outside the city."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I heard something… something that don't make much sense, now. Thought Atlanta was supposed to be safe, supposed to have a refugee center or somethin'." He paused to look at her sidelong. "Obviously that ain't true."

Ahead of them, Jacqui snorted.

Nicole tried not to smirk. "No, the refugee centers were a pipe dream. We can go into more detail about that later. For now, all you need to know is that this place is a death trap and camp is a fair way up the road."

"And what about Lori?" Rick wanted to know. "Carl? They're really okay?"

She reached back and scratched her head, unable to quite meet his gaze. "Shane's with them. He's been… I mean, after what happened—when you got shot—" she added, meeting his gaze briefly. "He kinda took it upon himself to watch over them. Felt like he owed you, I think…" she trailed off.

"He never owed me. What happened wasn't his fault. But now I owe him," Rick decided, sounding genuinely grateful in that moment.

Nicole swallowed roughly and didn't respond as they emerged on the roof. And just in time to see Merle crack off a shot from his rifle into the crowd of geeks on the street below. "Wooooooo!" he cheered.

Morales started forward, shouting as he went. "Hey, Dixon! Are you crazy?!"

Merle just giggled and fired off another round before turning to shrug at him. "Huh?" He teetered on the ledge of the roof—and just the sight of that made Nicole nervous—but he looked perfectly confident and comfortable up there, not at all afraid of falling as he waved that rifle around. She wondered if he was high, and not ironically. She long suspected the man of using drugs, and his behavior only tended to reinforce that hunch. Take now, for example.

"Hey! Y'all oughta be more polite to a man with a gun! That's just common sense."

He jumped down and rotated his arm as though it had gone stiff from holding and aiming the gun for so long. T-Dog piled on Morales's scolding. "Man, you're wastin' ammo we ain't even got! And you're bringing 'em all down here on us, man, just chill!"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Merle shouted at T-Dog, his face going even more red with rage. "Bad enough I got this taco-bender on my ass all day. Now I'm gonna take orders from you? That'll be the day."

Nicole could see the writing on the wall, and frankly, she was tired of the men in this group circling each other like a bunch of rabid dogs. She felt Rick glance at her as she walked over to pick up a heavy wrench from Dale's toolbox on the ground.

The metal felt almost uncomfortably warm from the sun and heavy in her hands.

She waited as the fight escalated and Merle called out some more racial slurs, throwing out the n-word to T-Dog now, and then he watched him pounce on top of T-Dog and start wailing. Finally, he pulled a handgun, cocked it, and pushed it right in T-Dog's face. Everyone went still, and Andrea started pleading with Merle to just leave him alone.

Without saying anything to anyone, Nicole crept up behind them, drew the wrench back and swung it as hard as she dared to—right against the side of Merle's head.

The impact threw Merle to the side hard enough that T-Dog was able to shove him the rest of the way off, knocking the gun out of his hands in the process.

Her blow might've taken Merle down momentarily, but it wouldn't keep him there. Even she knew that. Rick quickly stepped up and withdrew his handcuffs, slapping one on Merle's wrist and the other to a pipe that ran the length of the roof.

"What the hell, Nicole!" Shouted Andrea. "You hit him right in the skull, you could've killed him!"

"Hah!" T-Dog barked as he scrambled to his feet and put some much needed distance between himself and Merle. "What a cryin' shame that woulda been!"

Thunder rumbled ominously in the skies overhead. Rick took two large steps back to rejoin Nicole's side just as Merle came back to consciousness—altogether only seconds since she'd struck him. Rick nudged her elbow and nodded at her almost imperceptibly. She wondered if her actions reminded him of Shane.

Possibly. But maybe not. Shane might just have killed the bastard. He wasn't big on second chances. Not even big on first chances, to be honest.

Merle groaned loudly as he woke and began writhing on the ground, tugging at the cuff on his wrist. "Awwww, god damnit!" He turned over and spat at Rick in disgust. "Who the hell are you, man?"

"Officer Friendly," Rick said with a fake smile. He held up Merle's gun—which Nicole hadn't even realized he'd retrieved—and made a show of unloading it in front of Merle's face. "Good to meet you."

"You always bash people in the head to greet them?" Merle snarled. "Coulda asked politely, I mighta got off him! Just tryin' to teach him a lesson, that's all. Remind him the natural order of things!"

"Who, me?" Rick turned to Nicole with his eyebrows raised and then shook his head and looked back at Merle. "That wasn't me."

Merle squinted at him in disbelief. Then his eyes flitted to Nicole, and the bloodied wrench in her hand, and he scowled.

"Yeah," Rick said. "Now you're getting' it. That was her. See—things are different now. There are no 'niggers' anymore. No dumb-as-shit, inbred, white trash fools, neither. There's white meat, and dark meat. There's us, and the dead. We survive this by pulling together, not apart."

Merle glared at Rick hatefully. "Screw you man," he muttered. Then his eyes settled on Nicole. "Screw you too, you ungrateful hag. I did you favor comin' up here, 'member that?"

Nicole rolled her eyes and Merle growled at her.

"Yeahhh," he said. "See if that ever happens again!" He scoffed bitterly. "Not likely."

"Aw, really? And here I thought you were a reasonable man." T-Dog and Morales snorted at that, and she could almost see Merle's blood pressure rise as the others laughed at him. "Don't worry, Dixon. No one here is under the delusion that you've ever been dependable."

"Bitch!"

Rick stepped forward with intent but Nicole reached out to grab his arm. "Come on, Rick. You're not the type to kick a man while he's down, are you? Let him whine. He's all bark, no bite."

"You just wait!" Merle threatened. "Wait'll I'm outta these cuffs—you'll be sorry!"

Nicole turned her back on him and went to rejoin the others. She ignored Merle as he continued to spit venom in impotent rage behind her.