"T-Dog, Randall, siphon all the gas you can from these cars." Rick motioned at the all of 3 commuter cars in the tiny parking lot.

Then he turned to us by the door. "Glenn, Daryl, Eve, Maggie, you three clear that store for anything we could use. Food, and weapons take priority."

The four of us nodded — almost in sync — Glenn giving a muted "Got it" before moving.

"Same as before." Daryl glanced at the 3 of us, raising his crossbow once again.

We lined up on either side of the door again, only this time, Daryl's grabbing the handle and Glenn & Maggie are going in first.

Thankfully the whole front wall of the store is glass — and covered in ads — so we can see directly inside without much obstruction.

However, as nice as that is, I'm already counting 3 walkers and a massive smear of blood on the ground.

Seems like this shopping center isn't — or wasn't — as deserted as we thought.

Glenn and I looked at each other simultaneously; him giving me the same look I'm giving him.

So we've both noticed, and he's probably thinkin' the same thing I am.

We've done this a lot more times than the rest of the group when it was just the two of us — I'd even go so far as to call ourselves experts in this arena — and we both know that if there are that many walkers inside this tiny place, and a big smear of blood on the floor but no body, that's a good sign someone or something got trapped inside here and couldn't get out in time.

Which means it's likely there are more walkers inside than just the three we can see.

Daryl and Maggie must've picked up on our mental strategy-meeting because Daryl nudged me with his elbow just as Maggie whispered, "What is it?"

I licked my lips as Glenn glanced over his shoulder at her and back at me before he answered, "Nothing it's just… there's probably more than just 3 walkers in there."

"What? How do ya know?" Maggie glanced between me & her boyfriend, as Daryl glanced at me for confirmation — which I gave with a nod — before he looked back through the door. I can see the gears in his head turning even from behind him; trying to figure out what we're seeing that he's not.

I set my hand on his shoulder and leaned around him, pointing and watched him follow my finger.

It wasn't difficult to see the exact moment it clicked. He shifted, jaw tightening for a second and it's almost like watching him shift gears from 'figure it out' to 'how to get it done'.

After a minute, and Glenn muttering lowly to answer Maggie and fill her in, Daryl looked at the four of us, and looked around me to glance at the others around the parking lot.

Now it's my turn to go 'figure out' mode as I copied him.

T and Randall are still by the cars, most of the others lugging things into the bookstore next door, some keeping watch, and someone actually in the back of the truck digging something out, I presume.

Rick's talking to Hershel by the cars; having one of those private 'advisory' conversations that everyone seems to have with the oldest member of the group (whoever that may be).

Before, it was Dale. Now it seems that mantle's fallen to Hershel. It's always the village elder, heheh.

You can know a lot, but knowledge alone can't beat real experience. Especially when it comes to life situations, as we've figured out. The more experienced you are, the better your chances, but combining experience is a whole other birthday cake.

"Psst" Glenn got my attention and tapped his finger on the glass. My eyebrows furrowed and I followed his finger to a little blue wire-basket of clear spiky plastic balls, sitting on an end-of-aisle shelf just across from the register counter that's almost immediately inside the door (poor room design, might I add).

I looked back at him, not understanding before it dawned on me.

Son of a bitch.

I looked back inside, straightening up just a little so I could see better over Daryl's shoulder.

Those are the same light-up bouncy-ball things — they look more like mines to perfectly honest — that Ace used when we got trapped in that apartment that one time. Back in Atlanta.

It was just after we'd started setting up easier routes through the city to make the runs easier (that came out wrong — and so did that).

When we'd (I'd) gotten sick of always heading into the city with an ever-changing idea of what could be waiting for us and what route would be safe enough to take to where we needed to go.

We were getting quite clever about moving about in the city if I do say so myself, before Rick showed up and herds became a thing and we decided to get the Hell outta dodge before half the city flooded out and right over our doorstep.

My tongue poked out of the corner of my mouth, and I moved around Daryl.

"What are ya doin?" Daryl almost growled at me but let's be honest, every time he mutters something it sounds like a growl no matter what he's saying. Another Dixon family gift.

I crouched in front of the door, stowing one of my knives so I've only got one in hand.

"We've got an idea. I've done it once before." Glenn answered in hush so I didn't have to, and I motioned at Daryl to open the door.

He sat there for a moment looking at me like I'm insane and I just motioned again, raising my eyebrows expectantly.

He huffed through his nose and I know he doesn't like this already but nevertheless, he opened the door for me so careful and slow that I'm not even sure the air stirred.

I turned my shoulders sideways as I slid through the small opening, but I didn't get up or crouch again once I was inside.

The white grimy tile is freezing on my palms and hurts my knees but I channeled my inner cat. The one that likes to prowl without a sound — not to be confused with the one that will lay down in the warm patch of sunlight without warning.

Being extra careful with my right hand, to make sure the hilt of my knife doesn't clink or anything as I crawled to the end of the register line. Keeping quiet and my eyes peeled ahead of me straight back to the end of the store which looks like a cracker shelf of some sort. I can already see a bunch of stuff in here that hasn't been looted.

Not many people would think 'Dollar Tree' when panicking about where to stock up on food — at least I never would have. That's good though.

There's enough stuff in here that we should be good for at least a week. Maybe two or three if we're creative, a little open minded, a little loose on expiration dates, and ration well.

It's difficult to tell the layout of the store from the ground like this but I know there's another register line on either side of this one, and a 'holiday' section on the other side of this rightside one.

There's a walking space in the middle between the registers and the shelves — which I'm headed for right now — and at least 6 rows of shelves and looks like one big one along the back wall.

There's gotta be an employee door somewhere though that leads to restock. And by the looks of these shelves, there's a good chance it hasn't even been touched.

Too bad this place isn't all food. That would've been the jackpot. Most of it is just weird generic crap; overflow stock from bigger stores.

I reached the end of the aisle and paused, recalling where everything was. 'Ok, the basket should be on the left-side shelf. There was one walker at the far right end of the store.'

I peeked around the corner of the mini-drink cooler thing you can usually find at the beginning of a checkout aisle.

The shelves in the register line are practically cleaned out, but there's a lot of stuff on the ground. Most of it's broken but hey even broken stuff can be useful for other things. I like to call it, repurposing.

My muscles trembled as I carefully leaned out, and a bloated literally gut-dragging walker came into view. Standing at the last aisle, partially hidden by the shelf from this angle. Thank god it's facing the other way.

I turned my eyes to the left, where the second and third walkers are. One of them isn't visible because it was tucked farther inside about two aisle's down from the one across me right now, and the other is —

I froze.

Ohhh hot potatoes. Where'd it go?

I leaned a little farther, my heart hammering a samba into my throat and I leaned probably farther out than I should have but I still don't see it.

I moved back into the register lane, shifting so I'm sitting instead of on my hands & knees, and carefully looked back at the others outside the door.

Daryl pointed and I looked directly in front of me, at the register counter.

I glanced between him and it for a moment before getting up to a crouch, using the floor to help keep me balanced and more importantly, quiet.

I carefully grabbed the edge of the counter and slowly straightened my back out, using my aching leg muscles just a little bit to raise myself higher until I could peer over the top of it, and a sharp breath startled my lungs as I immediately let go, ducking like someone had thrown a saw blade at my head.

I'm amazed I didn't make any noise.

The walker is right on the other side of the counter. How did it get right there so fast without me noticing!?

If I go back towards the door, it'll see me in a heartbeat and draw the attention of all of them.

God — why did I think this was a good idea? Yeah it sounded clever and it worked that one time before when we were already trapped, but maybe this wasn't the best idea.

Biting my lips, I quietly spun on the toes of my — thankfully — dusty boots and crawled towards the end of the aisle again, glancing back over my shoulder once or twice to make sure that bony pringle isn't gonna sneak up on me. I'm the ninja. Me. That's my job. He can't have it.