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On to more drama! Damn the Governor and his evil ways.

I don't own the walking dead, its characters or storylines. OC and non canon stories are mine.

ENJOY!

Merle was walking through the tombs looking for Rick and Daryl. The last time he saw them they were having some kind of disagreement. Merle could hear echoing voices from down the corridor and moved quietly, his ears picking up a few words being yelled.

"We got a psychopath living with us!"

"Tyreese. Wait."

"We got to find him, Rick. And I'm not gonna sleep until we do!"

Merle tilted his head listening to the conversation obviously about the 'murder of Karen and David'. Merle still wasn't convinced it was murder. He had an inkling it was done to try and prevent the illness from spreading and from what he saw, Carol didn't seem to surprised by the human barbecue.

'Hey where is Carol?' Merle thought to himself with a furrowed brow. He strode down to see what they were so concerned with and saw them standing over something bloody.

"Tha hells that?" Merle drawled with a furrowed brow. Daryl looked a combination of pissed off and confused. Tyreese seemed to focus all his attention on Merle suddenly and stomped forward, "You know about this? Huh?"

Merle cocked his head to the side to see what they were actually looking at and shrugged, "Looks like someone exploring the inner workings of a jack rabbit."

"That what you're into huh? Cuttin' things open?" Tyreese asked, his shoulders rolled up and aggressive. Merle's eyes went from amused to drilling a holes in the man's face within seconds. Daryl stepped forward seeing exactly where Merle's head was and rasped, "Hey Ty, come on man. Merle ain't got nothin' to do with this shit."

"Yeah Ty-reese," Merle stretched it out as a taunt, "I know how to gut shit, ain't gotta practice fuck-all."

"See. This! Right here. He could be the one." Tyreese exclaimed pointing in Merle's face while glaring at Rick. "Seems like a pyscho type thing to say."

"Bes' back up boy." Merle sneered stepping forward his chest bumping into Tyreese's, "I may be turnin' over a new leaf but I'll still kick your goddamn teeth in."

Tyreese shoved Merle's shoulder but before Merle could retaliate a large explosion rocked the cement building.

"What was that?" Rick demanded looking around at the others.

"Fuck if I know Sherriff, we're down here too." Merle hollered as he ran with the other men. They burst out into the courtyard to see a group of people at the fences. In the center of the vehicles was a large military tank. Atop the giant hulking steel stood the man in black Merle never wanted to see again. The man he had thought was finally dead. The Governor had returned to take what wasn't his. Merle's chest tightened and his mind raced.

"Goddamnit." He growled looking back at the prison where Sam was resting. He listened to the group's nemesis shout over the large yard, "Rick! Come down here. We need to talk."

Merle watched Rick hollering back to the man beyond the fences and looked toward Daryl. He tipped his head toward the bins of weapons and slowly backed away taking cover behind a stack of filing cabinets. Slowly moving along the fence he pulled the bin towards the others.

"Gonna get Sam outta there, she too sick. We gotta get people on the bus." Merle rasped quickly to Daryl. His brother gave him a nod and grunted, "Go and get back 'ere."

Merle jogged low and fast to the prison cellblock ducking into the quarantine block first. "Everybody get your shit and get on the bus!" he hollered, "Governors here and he ain't leavin'. Move! Move! Get on the bus!" People were yelling and scrambling for their packs and supplies.

Running out of the doorway Merle sped to the main cellblock to grab Sam. As he jogged in he saw her standing in her cell door. She still looked pale and sickly, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. His mind raced and heart thrummed as he tried to decide how to help the prison and keep Sam safe. 'Fuck.' He growled while running up the stairs to Sam.

"Gotta go sugar." Merle barked shoving his emergency pack into Sam's hands.

"What?" She started before Merle began directing her down the stairs to the exterior door. "Governors 'ere get on the bus, you're too sick t'fight. I'll meet ya."

"Merle no let me stay or please come with." Sam begged her hand grasping his forearm.

"I gotta help. Get on the bus now Sam." He shouted pushing her up the tiny steps as gunfire started raining down on the prison walls. "I'll find ya." He promised, his hand cupping her face, Merle gave her a quick kiss on the lips before turning toward the thick smoke and rapid gunfire.

Merle found himself in the thick of the gunfight but quickly realized the whole prison was swarmed with walkers. The tank had drive through all of the fencing and there was nothing holding back the quickly forming herd. He found many dead strangers and fallen walkers. He shot a few of the attacking group when he came upon Daryl about to be bitten from behind. Shoving his blade into its temple he ducked behind a file cabinet next to Daryl. They made eye contact for a moment and silently wished each other luck.

Daryl hoisted the dead body up, using it as a shield to approach the tank. Bullets were hitting the dead body but not harming Daryl. Merle shot the two people in front of his brother as Daryl tossed a grenade into the tank hull. More walkers flooded the area and Merle fought his way through a large group. They kept coming and Merle had to pull away from his brother in order to find some cover. His blade was coated in black walker blood and face smeared with ashes from the burning tank. He lost sight of Daryl as he ran into the woods with Hershel's youngest daughter, Beth.

Deciding it was too dangerous to stick around Merle ran into the surrounding woods and wove through the forest moving in the direction of the school bus. He had to get back to Sam. She was far from healthy. Her lungs were still filled with fluid and her energy was not near a good level to be on the road. It would be hard for her to protect herself.

The forest was thick with walkers though and it was making his path detour. Every time he tried to veer back toward the direction the bus took he ran into a wall of undead. Growling in frustration he began stabbing everything near him. After fifteen minutes of swearing, stomping and stabbing he found himself surrounded by dead bodies. Panting for a minute he scrubbed his face angrily. Night was approaching and Merle was far from the direction he needed to be going. He'd have to find cover for the evening before finding the bus.

Moving through the dense trees Merle found a fenced in cellphone tower. He could see another herd of walkers making their way through the woods. Their moans echoing off the rough tree bark and thick undergrowth.

'Hafta do,' he muttered dryly.

Climbing over the wire fencing he grabbed the bottom rung of the ladder. Pulling himself awkwardly up the metal tower Merle sat high enough to be out of sight of the passing corpses. The shuffling and groans filled his ears. From the height he was at he could see the smoke billowing up from the prison. Thick black smoke drifting up into the darkening skies. The sight made his blood boil and heart ache.

"Fuckin asshole," he hissed under his breath. The Governor had risen from the flames and taken the prison. He'd been gone for so long Merle had actually thought he had died. Merle had let his guard down and settled into that cement building. Put down roots and felt safe. Now he had nothing. He had the clothes on his back, a couple knives and handgun. No food, no water.

Nothing.

No Sam.

"Oh Sugar," he rasped, his fingers digging into his prickling eyes. Having spent the whole afternoon and evening fighting, Merle had kept his mind off Sam. He had the immediate threat take precedence but now it was getting quiet. The moans were muted and the breeze settling. Now all Merle had was his mind and the frightening dread filling his gut. Scrubbing his face with his hand roughly Merle growled, "Buck up ya pussy. Ain't got time for this weepy willow bullshit Dixon. Find ya goddamn woman."

Merle tried to focus on what he knew and what he would do in the morning. He told himself she was safe and sound on the bus. That he would track it, he would find her and they'd find a safe place to be. They'd find his brother and maybe others. Start over and survive together. Just like before. Just like always.

Taking a breath he watched the sun finally dip below the horizon. The thick smoke from Merle's home still poured into the inky sky. Moaning below him caught his attention. A dozen walkers passed by slowly, all being pulled toward the gunshots, explosions and resulting fire. Merle sat on the tiny metal ladder, the rungs digging into his thighs until his legs went numb. All night he clutched the metal to keep from passing out and falling off.

At dawn he moved down the ladder after checking no walkers were in sight. He was a couple hours from picking up the bus trail and he needed to move fast. They'd be traveling the roads and those tracks wouldn't last for long, if they existed at all. The only thing he could do was hope the roads were dirty and covered in leaves in order to see where they went. The old plan was Hershel's farm but he didn't think anyone on the bus knew where it was. Sam didn't even know.

"Goddamn idiot," he growled at himself while stomping through the brush. He was mentally beating himself up for not having a backup plan with Sam. They should've set something up. Merle knew he should've had Daryl and her set up for a meeting point.

"Fuckin' dumb asshole." He berated as he stabbed a walker through the temple, taking his aggression out on the undead. Hiking along Merle finally made it to a road that would connect to the buses trail. He moved parallel to it through the forest. It was slow going but he was determined to find the bus by evening.

It was nearing afternoon when Merle's heart stopped. His feet stumbled for a moment and he stared with a tight jaw and hardened eyes. The large bus was stopped in the middle of the road. It's backdoor opened and dead bodies lay strewn on the road. Merle walked toward it, his heart pounding so loudly he could hear nothing else. Just the rush of blood in his skull.

He stood there looking at the bodies on the ground trying to find the courage. Slowly he turned them over, looking for familiar faces. He recognized Woodbury residents.

"Please, please." He whispered. His chest constricted as he climbed the narrow stairs into the bus.

It was a horror show. Blood and body parts. Dead bodies torn apart.

Someone had gone through and put them all down but Merle stepped carefully though the viscera just in case. He lifted up heads and stared at dead eyes. Near the back he saw a body with blonde hair, dark with blood. His heart was clashing against his ribs as he approached. He could feel hot angry tears building in his eyes. Taking a deep breath he gently lifted the woman's head and stared at the savaged face. It was completely torn off with no recognizable features left, just sinewy muscle and torn tissue.

Merle let out a strangled sob because it was impossible to know if he was holding the woman he loved demolished face. Clearing his throat he collected himself enough to do what he needed to do.

'Don' be a pussy Dixon,' he growled inwardly rousing his inner alpha male.

Pushing the body forward, Merle sliced up the back of the shirt with his knife attachment looking for those distinctive scars. With a heart hammering violently Merle twisted his hand in the fabric of the t-shirt. The world was filled with a painful ringing and his eyes flooding with tears as he glared at the petite torso with it muscular shoulders.

The day before

"Merle. Wait." Sam yelled as he jogged away toward the gunfire. Her heart was pounding as the reality of what was transpiring hit her hard. People were pouring onto the bus and pushing her to the back. She peered through the windows as gunfire rattled the front of the prison. Bullets started hitting the bus. Sam crouched down and peered through the dirty windows. There was shouting and chaos. Smoke was billowing out of the giant hole in the prison wall. Another couple large explosions rocked the building and cement shrapnel pelleted the bus. The roar of the engine drowned out the gunshots and soon the bus pulled out of the prisons fences. Sam watched out the back window as the bus drove away from Merle, away from her family.

"Fuck." She hissed as she saw walkers pouring into their home.

It was gone.

All gone.

The Governor rolled up and took everything they had worked so hard for.

Sam listened to people crying and shouting. She saw some were bloody. Her eyes widened as she saw people with gunshot wounds pressing clothing onto growing stains of red. Looking around Sam noticed it was all Woodbury people. Kids and elderly. The sick. Sam was still feeling sick but her adrenaline was pumping, drowning out her illness and kicking in her survival instincts. The bus felt like a death trap to her.

Too much blood.

Too many people. Injured people.

The large vehicle was tearing down the road for over an hour when the first screams started. It was someone in the middle. Sam stood up and saw a teenager biting into the throat of an old woman. The stringy flesh stuck in her teeth, blood pouring out of the woman pale throat. Screams sounded off, echoing in the confined space that felt more and more like a casket.

Further in the front another guttural growl was expelled as people started scrambling away from the freshly turned walkers. The wounded were dying and turning. People who had been bitten still boarded the bus and now it was a free for all. Sam grabbed her pack and slid it on, clipping the chest strap securely. Sam had a feeling she would be running soon. Gunshots suddenly filled the enclosed space causing Sam's ears to ring. Squeezing her eyes shut for a second in pain she saw a walker clambering over the seats towards her.

"Shit," she cursed yanking her hunting knife out waiting for the thing to get to her. Tearing flesh and screams.

Blood was everywhere. The scene was horrifying.

Sam backed away hitting the exit door. The bus was still speeding down the road, swerving. She braced herself as the vehicle ran over and plowed into bodies in the road. Sam could see the bus driver was now slumped over the steering wheel, gun shot wound flooding the back of his shirt with crimson. His dead foot was pushing into the gas pedal.

Sam stabbed the closest walker and saw the first old woman attacked was crawling along the aisle. Her milky eyes dead set on Sam's ankles. The bus came to a screeching halt as a man jumped forward finally getting the bus to stop. Sam was thrown into the seats, her head hitting the window hard enough to crack the glass. Her eyes shut and head lolled to the side as darkness consumed her.

Day after prison's fall

Merle swallowed the lump in his throat and blinked his flooded eyes. He stared for a long moment at the smooth, scar free back.

It wasn't her. It wasn't Sam.

He collapsed to his knees and cried in earnest. Sobs that had never been emitted by a Dixon tore through his body. The clashing combination of relief and utter despair was overwhelming. He sucked in air desperately trying to contain the emotions consuming him. Scorching through him.

She was alive. She wasn't there but she had to be alive.

Taking in to deep breaths Merle settled his nerves. Once more composed he stood up and began raiding the bus for supplies. He grabbed a bag and stashed anything he found of use. After scavenging he hopped out the back and made his way around the bus searching for tracks. Merle saw a set of three that looked to be the ones that put the walkers down. Two more ran off into the forest. Chewing his cheek he followed the ones into the forest. The other three took the road and he knew Sam wouldn't do that. She would avoid it like he would.

Merle's feet followed a track and saw it had walkers on its trail. He had hoped it was Sam but seeing the small group of walkers after them he changed his mind. Sam wasn't fit to take on a group of walkers. He was passing through a thick grouping of trees when he saw a downed body, the majority of its torso and legs gone. The man's arms reached up at Merle as he neared it. It was a man from Woodbury, Dan something or other.

"Ya seen Sam anywhere Danny boy?" he asked, his voice gravelly and exhausted. "Guess not." Laughing gruffly at his morbid interaction, Merle stabbed the dead man in the forehead.

He kept walking. No trails besides walkers were anywhere near him. The herd had wiped away everything.

Sighing he sat down by a group of rocks and drank some water. "Think Merle. Where would she aim? What would she head to?" He spoke to himself.

The sound of shuffling feet brought him to the present and he stood up to kill the three walking dead moving toward him. His anger getting the better of him again, Merle started stabbing them viciously. Not even inflicting killing blows. He hacked their limbs off, stabbed their chest and stomped their legs. His chest was heaving from the tantrum when he finally put them down. Spitting on their bodies Merle huffed out a breath.

He was feeling desperate. Deep down he knew Sam was alive. That she made it out of the bus. His heart hurt though. Hurt so bad Merle looked down for a visible injury. She could be anywhere. Merle was supposed to protect her and he sent her off on a bus filled with biters.

"Fuckin shithead dumb fuckin' ASSHOLE!" He shouted loudly at himself, kicking the dead body in front of him until his leg became exhausted. Picking up his bag he moved further into the woods. He'd follow trails.

Anything. Anyone.

He'd follow them and then maybe he'd find her.

No.

Not maybe.

No.

He would find her.

He would find Sam.

She would be fine, pissed at him for leaving her but she would be alive. Merle would see her dark blue eyes again and that giant grin she had when seeing him after a long absence.

"I'm comin' for ya Sugar." He mumbled while parting trees to walk on.

The day before

Shaking her head to clear her vision, Sam pulled her body upright and she looked around. A growling sound from below the seat made her yelp. Bring her boot down she crushed the old lady's head that finally crawled its way through spilled bags and body parts.

Sam grabbed the exit door as another walker flung its chewed up arms over the seats at her. Practically falling out of the bus Sam got to her feet. She tried pushing on the door to keep the walkers in but a dead arm blocked it. Sam took her machete out of her pack and hacked it off before slamming the door closed. Walkers were pushed up against the windows growling, teeth scratching at the glass, fingers clawing for her. People that she'd eaten lunch with, kids she'd watched play and grow.

Turning on her heel she ran. She ran with no destination in mind. There was no meeting place other than Hershel's farm and she had no idea where that was. Merle was supposed to take her. They were supposed to go together.

"Fuck." Sam muttered, his goodbye kiss flashing through her mind, his warm palm on her cheek. "Goddamnit Merle."

Sam's body still hurt from being sick. She jogged for a while, moving away from the prison and all the walkers in the area would be drawn to it from the noise. Her lungs were far from clear though and she had to stop periodically, hacking up mucus and coagulated blood. Thankfully she had finished her liquid antibiotics otherwise she'd be on the road dying again.

Sam saw a few houses coming up and made her way through the thick brush towards them. She had a pack with her but no idea what was in it. Circling the small rancher she found the windows were boarded up. Peering through she saw camping gear on the ground and empty food wrappers. Getting to the door she knocked loud enough to hear movement inside. A shuffling could be heard right before a thump against the door. Sam pushed it open, her knife poised and ready. The walker was rotted beyond recognition. It's sex unknown now that its flesh had melted off. Sam jammed her blade into its eye and let it fall outside on the porch. Waiting for others Sam pulled the corpse out from the doorway and quietly cleared the rest of the house. Locking up she made sure all the windows were covered. She dropped her pack and scoured through it finding a couple days worth of food and water. A handgun with ammo. It had a first aid pack and a spare t-shirt and socks. They were Merle's.

"Merle," she sobbed hugging the cotton to her chest. Screwing her eyes shut she dug the heels of her hands into them. "Stop, you fucking pussy." She growled, "Stay alive and find him."

Slapping her cheeks to get control of herself, she continued with the task.

Sam kept sorting her supplies. The bag had a machete and a flashlight with extra batteries. Sighing she drank water and ate a granola bar before searching the house. The kitchen had some canned food left and the bathroom contained pain pills, along with other bandages. Taking everything she could find she repacked her bag. If she needed to run she had to be prepared.

A loud thumping brought Sam out of her wandering pessimistic thoughts. Sneaking to the window she saw too many walkers shambling into the front yard for it to be safe any longer.

"Fuckers." She grumbled before heading for the back door. She saw a clear path and took off running through the woods again. Her lungs sounded rough and rattily. Her head still felt hazy from being sick. Coughing as she jogged she found herself at the edge of a forest line, an old dirt road before her. She knelt behind a bush and took in air greedily. Her lungs burned from the exertion but also from the sickness that still plagued her. She coughed into her elbow, muffling the sound. Perking up when she heard shuffling Sam looked down the road. Two figures were approaching. One was further ahead of the other. Sam would have guessed the one following as a walker, its shape huddled over and practically dragging its leg behind. Pausing a moment she waited to see who or what they were before moving. Sam didn't have the energy to fight or take on any surprises.

They finally reached a spot that Sam could see who it was and her eyes widened. Stepping out of the trees Sam raised her hands at the two hand guns now pointed at her. "It's Sam." She said walking over to the two road worn travelers.

"Sam!" Carl exclaimed and grabbed her into a hug. She patted him back and moved to Rick who was barely standing upright. "Damn Rick you look like dogshit." She quipped taking stock of his injuries.

A grunting laugh made it out of Rick's mouth followed by a hiss of pain.

"There's houses just up the road, I got first aid stuff." She said before moving to Rick's side. "Come on. Let me help your sorry broke ass."

Sliding his arm over her shoulders Sam helped Rick shuffle down the road to a walkway he could manage. Carl took lead with his knife.

Rick stumbled but Sam held him strong. "I gotcha. Almost there and I'll patch ya up." She said quietly her arm tightening around his narrow waist. Sam listened to the rough gravel of his breathing and the whistle of what had to be a broken nose. His leg was bleeding from what she could only assume was a gunshot. She began thinking of what supplies she had, opposed to what they needed.

Carl and Sam cleared the house before laying Rick on the couch. They both scavenged for supplies and food then got to work on cleaning and bandaging Rick's wounds. Fortunately Sam hand an ace bandage in her bag for his ribs and enough alcohol to clean his leg wound.

"Not broken but definitely cracked and bruised." She said after prodding his sides. Rick groaned while she got him up straight so she could wrap him. "It'll feel better in a moment, promise."

Once Rick's torso was braced with the tight bandage he had some relief from the pain and could breath easier. He gave her a weary smile and a hoarse, "Thanks." Nodding Sam got to work cleaning all the cuts on his face and then the gunshot wound in his thigh.

"Ok you gotta rest but I'm gonna wake you up every few hours. You probably have a concussion. Don't want ya never waking up. Well sorta never walking up." She finished with a morbid smirk. Having Rick grab her biceps while Sam held his elbows, she lowered him down without using his abdominal muscles. He passed out almost instantly. Carl watched Sam and then handed her a bowl of dried cereal.

"How'd you know how to do all that?" He asked as he sat on the other couch.

"My stepdad wasn't a good man. I fixed up my mom and myself a lot." She said crunching on cereal. "Your dads not perfect, but he's a good man. Or tries to be."

Carl looked at her through narrowed eyes, "Why are you telling me this?"

Sam smiled sadly, "Cuz you seem pissed at your dad. Wanna talk about it?"

"No." Carl snapped.

"Ok." Sam shrugged, shoving a handful of cereal in her mouth crunching loudly.

Carl's eyebrows shot up, "What you're not gonna force me?"

Snorting loudly Sam shook her head, "Nah. Why would I? If I don't wanna talk, I don't. You're not a little kid, make you're own damn decisions."

"That's exactly what I'm pissed about." Carl exclaimed pointing at his dad.

Sam smiled and shoved more stale crunchy oats in her mouth, "Yeah figured."

"Pffft." Carl scoffed, crossing his arms angrily.

Sam smiled and listened to Rick's rattling breathing. Rubbing her face she tried to fight off the thoughts. 'Where are you old man?' she thought worriedly, biting on her thumbnail.

"Are you worried about Merle?" Carl asked his voice surprisingly tentative.

Sam swallowed and shook off the nerves, "Nah. Nothin' could take out those Dixons. Practically indestructible."

"Still." Carl said quietly his hand picking at the dirty sofa cushion.

Sam sighed and nodded, "Yeah. Still. I... would really prefer I knew where he was and if he's still 95% whole." Carl laughed but stopped when Rick started coughing and moving to his side. Sam walked over and helped him roll slightly in case he was going to be sick. Rubbing Rick's back she got his coughing fit to recede. "Better?" She asked. Rick looked at her with indiscernible expression and croaked,"Yeah, thanks Sam." She nodded and helped him roll back. His eyes drifted shut and he fell asleep.

"I didn't see what happened, were you there?" Sam asked sitting down next to Carl on the sofa. Carl's eyes filled and he leaned forward, elbows on knees. She watched his posture change, his shoulder tense and hands balled into fists.

"He killed Hershel. Chopped his head off with Michonne's sword." Carl growled.

Sam's heart stopped and she stared at Carl for a long moment. The world filled with static and her eyes prickled. Swallowing thickly Sam whispered, "Michonne?"

"I don't know. I… I don't know if anyone got away." Carl said sniffing loudly while looking away from Sam. She reached out gripping his shoulder. Feeling his back shudder Sam pulled Carl onto her side, wrapping her arms around his wiry frame. The kid was an adult in many ways but sitting there with Sam, he was still young boy. A kid who was hurting immensely from watching a family member murdered.

"I shoulda shot him… I coulda and then…. Daryl said no but I coulda." Carl spoke fast and stilted between sobs. "I shoulda and Hershel wouldn't be dead. And the prison wouldn't be gone. Everyone's dead. I shoulda… did it." He ended with a hiccup sob.

Sam wiped her cheeks and pulled him back to see his face, wiping away his tears like her own. Carl tried to pull away but Sam kept her grip tight. "This wasn't you fault, Carl."

"I coulda stopped it!" he exclaimed struggling in her grip but Sam kept him still, even shaking him a bit to get his attention. "Carl!" she growled, "If you're to blame than so am I! I shot him the last time he was there. I didn't kill him. I fucking missed! This is on me as much as it is on you."

Carl stopped struggling and looked at her, really looked at her for a long time. Sam could see his father in him, the clear blue eyes reading her, reading the situation. He finally sighed in that long exasperated way only a teen can, "Finnnnnne."

Sam snorted and asked, "Fine what?"

"Fine its not our faults. I just…. I wish I did something." Carl explained his tone sounding very much his young age. Sam nodded and replied, "Me too. I… "

She looked away and wiped her face thinking of Hershel. His kind face wiping the sweat from her brow as they waited for the life saving medicines. Sniffing loudly Sam looked at Carl and said, "If I knew Hershel at all he wouldn't want us to blame ourselves. He'd want us to find our family."

Carl chewed his lip and asked, "How?"

"I can track some, Merle taught me a little but it's probably going to be trial and error. We'll find a way." Sam told the young boy who looked so world weary for a preteen. "Try to sleep some. I'll wake you in a few hours."

"You sure? You're still sick." Carl reminded her his tone very fatherly. Sam smiled and bargained, "I'll sleep more than you how 'bout that?"

Carl nodded in agreement, "Four hours then wake me."

She agreed and watched him curl up on the sofa. Taking a post by the front window she watched the darkened street for any signs of life or walking death. There was the occasional corpse shambling along but nothing out of the ordinary. Sam let her mind wander to Merle and where he could be. She hoped he was with Daryl and that they were unharmed. Sam knew if they were together they would find others, maybe even her.

'He'll find you Sam.' She told herself over and over. A tiny part of her brain was pessimistic though and taunting her with the idea of Merle being dead somewhere, never to be found. Her heart lurched at the idea of never knowing, never finding out and never seeing his pale blue eyes again.

'Please Merle, please find me.' Sam thought while rubbing her damp eyes.

OH BOY! Damn you Governor! I rewatched this episode and still get anxious as shit goes down. Poor Hershel. :(

Thanks is for reading and reviewing!