Even though the sky is still caked in clouds, it's definitely morning by now. The rain has let up quite a bit too.

Technically I should've woken the others by now, but they all looked so haggard yesterday I don't want to.

It's been a stressful time, everyone is still tense and frustrated with each other. So the more they can sleep the better.

We don't know when the chance to get a good night's sleep will come again. And we need everyone to play as nice as they can manage right now. That means no tired cranky asses fanning embers that are finally going out.

I don't even wanna know what Lori & Carl sleeping separately from Rick is gonna start when they all wake up.

Good sleep should be at the top of our priority lists anyway.

We won't last long if we're all sleep deprived, stumbling around like walkers.

I sighed, dropping the pencil in hand onto the already well-used notebook.

My forehead hit the page with a soft 'thump' as I groaned before freezing. I probably shouldn't make the same sounds as flesh eating monsters while everyone's asleep.

I rolled to the side, my cheek smushed my eye shut as the calming aroma of paper drifted through into my nasal cavity.

'I'm getting way too ahead of myself.' I watched the rain fall against the window, petering itself out as it has been for the last hour.

I rolled my noggin' up onto my chin, smashing into an unintentional grumpy face. My eyes traced over all the work I've done. The notebook and all these ideas, lists, even a list of things I haven't had time to think about yet.

They're good ideas, and the lists are already helping a lot. Just to relieve the clutter in my brain case that's been knocking around for weeks.

I can't help it. I like to have a plan and a back up plan. Preferably more than just one or two of each but that starts to get unrealistic after 3 or 4.

But I know I'm thinking way beyond our capabilities at present. Hardly anything from the last hour of this, is actually doable right now.

Not on the road — not transport friendly. At least not with what we've got. If we had another heavy-duty truck, like I'm positive we need now, we could but without something like that, it's just not gonna happen any time soon.

I took a deep breath, sitting up while I scrubbed my hands over my face. My palms are a lot rougher than they used to be, it's almost painful when they drag over my cheeks.

There's still a few tinsy tiny little scabs here & there from one thing or another. The kind you can pick off no worries because there's nothing to heal anymore; your body just hasn't shed the crusted brown clots yet.

'I should get some gloves.' I picked at the little marks, most of these I can just scratch off with my fingernails.

A mental sigh range through my head (that sounds vaguely like Rick when he's 110% done with everything; not sure why, and not gonna look too closely at it) 'Add it to the list.'

I picked my book scribbler back up and flipped over to the page I've been writing that akins to basically a bloody grocery list and went to the next open line (which is two from the bottom now) and wrote 'Gloves' under 'toothbrushes' and 'bar soap'.

Another thought struck me — seriously what is my brain right now? A lightning rod? — as I hit my boot on the chair leg in an attempt to reposition my foot and I glanced over at Carl's feet.

His shoes look like everyone else's. Worn down, dingy, god knows what stuck to the bottom. And most of them, are sneakers.

Not running or athletic sneakers. Just normal everyday shoes.

Not great for grip, get worn down easily, get stuff stuck in the grooves until you've lost all traction.

I scooted back, taking a look at my own scuffed up boots. Mine are more durable than all of theirs, and I probably won't need to replace them for awhile.

I sighed again, turning back to my list and wrote 'shoes'.

My eyes drifted over the page as a whole. The edges curling because of almost every inch of it being written on, and only one thing came to mind. 'This is massive.'

My face screwed itself into what could easily be a grimace as I scratched behind my ear with my index finger. 'Maybe I should organize this by priority…'

But that would mean rewriting the entire list. 'I'd rather not'

Oh I know.

I looked over the list and started penning in little stars beside all of the things that should be top of the list. It's not perfect, but it'll do.

It only took me a few minutes to prioritize and once I was done, I leaned back, sticking my pen in my mouth last second before stretching back, arms behind my head.

Alright, it's about time these lazy sods wake up.

I stood up and didn't give any real thought to any systematic waking. I'm "systematized" out after spending most of the morning having concentrated OCD over planning.

I'm ready to just take it easy for the rest of the day. Not likely, but I can dream.

Daryl's was the first shoulder I crouched next to, grabbed, and thoughtlessly shook.

He woke up with a snap and I almost fell backwards, nearly crushing Randall's bad ankle if I hadn't planted my hands behind me — one in the crinkly wrappers and the other nearly inside someone's shoe.

I forgot Daryl's a...should I call it "jump starter"?

Daryl stared at me for a second, blinking the sleep from his eyes, before looking around the room once and finally directing his blue gaze out the windows.

He sat up as I got myself back up, trying my best to remove my hand from the wrapper shrine without making too much noise. Which is pointless now that I think about it, cause I need to wake everyone up anyway.

Daryl rubbed his eyes, pulling one leg up as I did a reverse squat to get back on my feet without crushing anyone and turned to find Rick. He should be up next. Get a minute or so of quiet in before everyone no doubt starts pelting him with questions about what our plan is now.

Frankly I think our plan is the same as it's always been. Survive to see tomorrow. Actually it may have shifted a little from 'tomorrow' to 'next week'.

I can say with fair certainty that it's unlikely we'll die right away, barring catastrophe, surprise attacks, and wicked bad luck. Not planning ahead seems to be the thing that really knocks us down.

We didn't plan for the RV to break down, we didn't plan for someone to get lost, we didn't plan for the farm being compromised, we didn't plan for herds or for being on the move. We had almost no backup plans and the ones we did have were loose and weak, and fell apart.

We nearly got separated — some of us did.

Rick woke much slower than Daryl and with less ready alertness but he got his bearings and realized what was happening much faster. He nodded at me as soon as he moved to sit up and I backed up to give him room and moved on to the next person.

It took about 5 minutes to wake everyone and Carol got started on breakfast almost as soon as she was awake, rubbing her presumably cold hands together in a swift motion to heat them up before taking a look through our food supply to find something for everyone.

It's not surprising how she's sort of fallen into the role of food handler/caretaker for the group. She is the most qualified afterall.

Lori is a mother too but… food prep isn't a skill you magically acquire after you've had a kid.

No offense but she can't even make college student food very well.

I let the kids (Randall, Beth, and Carl) sleep a little longer, seeing as how we're in no hurry to go anywhere today and Carl was up late with us. They need more sleep than the rest of us.

I'd have woken Randall just like I'd woken Glenn and Maggie, but he's still injured. The more he sleeps, the faster and better he'll heal. Trust me.

Daryl motioned at me as soon as I finished and I went to the desk he sat at, pulling myself up onto the table instead of taking the open seat next to it.

Just as well, cause T-Dog took it up as the last remaining seat a minute later; the younger people having to sit on the floor to eat. Not that they seem to mind.

I took my rationed fruit bars and poptart package with a grateful smile as soon as Carol passed it to me.

I ripped into that package like a velociraptor and shoved almost the whole thing in my mouth, of course right before Rick looked at my mess on the study desk.

"What's all this?" the ex-deputy turned towards me with a raised wildly untamed eyebrow.

I got so distracted with the perfect curl in the middle of his right eyebrow that I just blinked, completely forgetting to answer the question.

At least until somebody — lookin' at you Dixon — elbowed me in the side of the knee and literally struck a nerve, making my knee jerk so hard I almost clacked it against the other one.

"Ipeas." My hands flew to my mouth in a feeble attempt to save the landslide of crumbs that fell out of my mouth the moment I spoke.

No I did not (involuntarily) scream with a now closed mouth and try to "save" the crumbled half-eaten poptart shards that rained all over my lap.

Daryl and T both leaned away from me the moment it happened, and high-pitched laughter erupted from a couple of people who I distinctly let sleep in.

The two on either side of me looked on in disgust as I tried to get all the little pieces back into my stuffed mouth.

"Jesus — swallow first, vulture. It ain't gonna run away from ya." Daryl sassed.

He's lucky food comes even before retorts. He has a point though.

I swallowed a large enough bite of chewed strawberry poptart to actually hurt my throat as it went down and almost made myself choke on what's left.

I hit my chest really hard, trying not to spit-take poptart mush all over my lap and at the speed in which everyone moved away from me, you'd think I spontaneously combusted.

"Here," Glenn tossed a water bottle at me from the other side of the room and I caught it, immediately breaking open the lid and chugged 3 sizeable swallows to get the mass glob down before I could breathe again.

I wiped my water-dripping lip with the back of my hand, as several heads shook.

"One a these days, you're gonna choke for real if ya don't learn to slow down a little." T shook his head, moving back to his own breakfast bar and bag of Flamin' Hot cheetos.

Meh. I shrugged.

I'd take death by food over pretty much anything else, any day.

At least when I reached Hell (which I am undoubtedly going to; I've made way too many bad jokes in my life to have earned a spot in the choir, if ya know what I mean), I'd be able to say I went out doing something I love.

I'm well-aware Daryl's watching me with a cringe, as I pick every last crumb off my lap and stuff it into my mouth, but you know what they say. Waste not, want not.

I glanced up and caught Rick smiling for a moment.

"At least some things haven't changed." Glenn mumbled, sounding relieved enough to almost be heartbreaking before digging back into his own food. A fond smile on his face until the granola bar was in his mouth.

I'll take the win. I smiled, doing everyone a courtesy and keeping my mouth closed — as can be — as I squirrel cheek the rest of my food in 30 seconds flat.

I was right about the bombardment of questions but it didn't start until after breakfast. And interrupted Rick from where he's going through my little midnight projects. Though it looks like he's just trying to decipher what's what.

"So... what now?" Glenn kicked it off, finally asking the thing that's no doubt been burning everyone's minds since they woke up.

I admit, I'll feel a lot better after knowing whether or not Rick has a plan. Part of me is praying he does, but the more realistic side of me is thinking probably not.

Rick looked over from all my notes, turning in his seat slightly as he looked around at all the waiting gazes in the room, lingering on a few here or there. Notably Hershel, T's, Daryl, and finally came to a stop with mine.

We stared at each other in silence for a few long seconds and I may or may not have started to sweat a little.

I feel like he's trying to have a mental conversation with me, but at the same time not…?

Rick finally sat back, rubbing his finger over his chin, the way a lot of people do when they're thinking about how to word something. At least that's what It always looks like to me.

He glanced back at my notes before picking one up — my 'needs' list — and looking back at me.

"Eve's got the right idea here. We need to focus on getting the essentials first."

"How are we gonna do that?" Everyone looked at Glenn, where he's sat next to Maggie, knees up and arms around them, loosely holding them together. "We don't even know where we are, much less where to find things."

"Then that's where we start." Hershel spoke up in a tired, old voice. Yes it legitimately sounds old. Worn down, somehow calm and focused, and certain.

My muscles actually relaxed a little hearing it. Somehow it just makes it sound like everything's gonna be ok.

Rick nodded firmly, standing up and relief flooded my anxious buzzing system at his stance. Familiar and telling of a plan forming — if not already there — in his head.

"We start by figuring out where we are."

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