Hey guys! So this is the flashback chapter

This chapter is focused on Toby's last day with her father. I'm sorry if it's super boring, but I felt it was necessary and I think it helps understand Toby's character a bit more, and her dad (that's if anyone actually cares about her dad at this point) but I think this chapter probably answers any questions you might have about Toby and her dad.

Also, in my head, I casted the part of Toby's dad as Robert Knepper. If you've ever seen Prison Break, you'll know he does an excellent southern accent, and he always plays such a good antagonist.

So yeah . . . hope you like it! Thanks for reading!

4:07 am

I shot up from my bed grabbing my throat as an attempt to quiet the scream. I was panting, everything around me came into view as my eyes began to adjust. I placed a shaky hand over my mouth, realizing how loud the scream might've been.

I had always had trouble sleeping, nightmares were never anything new to me. But lately, they'd been happening more often, almost every night. They seemed to wait for me behind my eyelids, waiting for me to close them and lose consciousness before they took over my mind.

I guessed it had something to do with the TV. Daddy was never one to watch the news, but the last couple days, that was all that was on. People seemed to be acting weird, I didn't understand a lot of what they said, but I understood virus. And they seemed to use that word a lot. Virus and dead were the most common words.

People were getting sick, a lot of them. The virus made them act weird, violent, it made them want to kill people. The people who were sick, attacked the ones who weren't. A lot of people were dying, I understood that as well. In my opinion, it was the virus that killed you, whether you were infected or not.

Even the people who weren't infected were getting violent crazy, especially the cops. In Daddy's words they were 'desperate'. We were watching the TV together, and on the news cops were shooting at the sick people. Once, one of the cops had wrapped his arm around the sick person's neck, trying to pull him to the ground.

"They're gettin' desperate," Daddy had said. "Lettin' them get tha' on TV. Ain't thinkin' no more."

"Get what on TV?" I asked.

"Shootin' in tha open like tha'. An' tha's a choke-holdrigh' there, i's illegal. Cops can't do that."

Another thing that was announced on the news a couple days before was that all schools were closed 'until further notice'. That surprised me, but didn't effect me much. School wasn't something I cared for, I didn't understand a lot of what the teachers would show us. Daddy said it was a waste of time and didn't care if I went or not. So I didn't go often.

Sometimes, I wanted to go but the other kids didn't like me and I didn't like them. They played mean tricks on me a lot, I may not have liked them but I never threw their backpacks in the trash or fill their desks up with wrappers and garbage.

After a few minutes of staring at the door, waiting for the sound of his stomping and yelling, I had begun to calm down. Did he not hear me scream?

I threw the worn out sheet I used as a blanket and got up. I opened the door and creeped quietly down the hallway. Strangely enough, I hadn't heard Daddy's snores like I usually would.

I stood by his door and listened for a moment. When I still didn't hear anything, I went to the living room to look out the window. I knew better than to go into Daddy's room.

When I looked out the window, I saw that our car wasn't there. I was relieved but at the same time confused. When did he leave?

It wasn't anything new to find he wasn't home. When Daddy left, he would sometimes be gone for hours, sometimes a couple days. I never knew how long he would be gone until he came back.

I glanced at the TV, it was on the news but muted. I watched as they played footage of someone infected pouncing on a woman. I walked up the TV and pressed the power button and the screen flicked off. Our remote was broken and we hadn't used it for months.

I still felt tired so I went back to bed, I was happy I didn't have to worry about waking Daddy up.

12:16 pm

When I woke up later I went to the kitchen and looked around for a bit, searching for something to eat. All I found is a box of chocolate pop tarts and there was only one package left. I ate the last two pop tarts. When I finished, I went to the computer desk, taking a pen and paper to draw for a bit.

When I got bored I went to my room and got my throwing knives. Daddy had a set too, which was a lot better than mine. My set were actually his old ones. I went outside and practiced throwing them at the back of the house. The couple of times I was able to sink the knives but they just fell.

3:20 pm

I wasn't sure how long I practiced for, but I know it's been a couple hours when I hear the sound of the car pull in the driveway.

I put whatever knives that were on the ground into their slots and ran to the front of the house. I opened the front door and watched as Daddy walked fast toward the house. His face was red, he looked panicked, angry. I glanced at his shirt to see it soaked in blood at his chest area. He didn't seem to be in pain so I guessed it wasn't his.

He strode up to the door and roughly pushed me to the side, "out a' the way!"

I followed him inside and closed the door. He began to walk down the hallway toward our bedrooms, "turn the TV on!"

I did as he said and also turned the volume back on. What appeared on the screen was not something I expected. The news was gone, there was no footage. The screen was red with white words in a paragraph in the middle of it.

"-Remain calm. This message will repeat." A monotone voice read out.

Daddy appeared out of the hallway and stared at the screen, I noticed he was holding one of the backpacks we used for camping.

After a moment, the monotone began reading out again.

"The emergency alert system has been activated. The United States Government has issued a state of emergency. The Department of Civil Defence has issued the following message: Normal broadcasting will cease immediately. This is a civil emergency. Evacuate your homes and proceed towards the Atlanta Safe Zone. Avoid anyone infected at all costs. Remain calm. This message will repeat."

" . . . safe zone?" Daddy questioned no one in particular. I watched as he went to the kitchen and opened the fridge, throwing some objects inside the bag. He does the same in the living room, taking things off the shelves and throwing them in the bag.

"Daddy?" I questioned.

"Shut up," he rasped, "tryin' ta think."

He went down the hallway again and I could hear a lot of banging and things being moved around. I stood in the middle of the living room, confused, listening to the broadcast as Daddy ran about the house.

When he emerged from the hallway once more he rushed to the front door, but stopped in front of it abruptly. He was breathing heavily while staring at the door. Then he lifted the backpack and threw it against the door and yelling in frustration.

His breathing became heavier as he placed his forehead against door, leaning on it.

I glanced at the backpack wondering what he was putting in it. Are we going camping?

He sighed then stood up straight, "fuck, losin' my shit."

He quickly went back to the kitchen. I watched from the living room as he pulled out a beer and twisted the cap off. As he began to drink it, I walked into the doorway of the kitchen. I was afraid to ask, but I didn't fully understand what the broadcast was telling us. I'd seen Daddy angry, he got angry easily, but I'd never seen him like this. He looked panicked, defeated.

And the blood on his shirt only made the sick feeling in my stomach grow more.

"Daddy? What's-"

Before I could get any more words out, I jumped back as he slammed the bottle to the floor, smashing it to pieces.

"The fuck did I tell ya! Keep ya mouth shut, ya lil' shit! Tryin' ta figure this shit out!"

I pressed my lips together, I wanted to say sorry but I knew it'd only get me in more trouble.

"Fuck, ya see what ya made me do?!" He panted staring at the floor, "just-"

He stopped talking when a ringing sound filled the room. He glanced at his pocket and pulled his phone out. He sighed, "clean this up." He said in a much softer tone as he walked away, putting the phone to his ear.

I walked through the kitchen, manoeuvring my feet so I wouldn't step on the glass and got the broom and dustpan, overhearing Daddy on the phone as I swept the glass up.

"Hello? . . . . Marcus, what . . . no, nothin' wrong with the shit I gave you . . . no, I'm 'ere. Hey, you know anythin' about this safe zone bullshit they're broadcastin'? . . . turn on your TV . . . Yeah, heard it on the radio first. Fucked up week we're havin' . . . Jus' fuckin' told ya, nothin' wrong with tha' shit. Fine, hurry up, I got shit to do." He hung up the phone and sighed again. Glancing around the room. When he found me staring, he rolled his eyes, his expression and voice much softer than it had been before.

"What?"

"What . . ." I hesitated, scared I would get in trouble, "what's a safe zone?"

He shook his head, "I's bullshit is what it is. Jus' sweep tha' up into a pile, I'll pick it up later. When ya done, clear out the house a bit, got company comin'."

I nodded and he disappeared down the hall, after a few seconds I heard his bedroom door slam. When I'm done sweeping the glass into a corner in the kitchen, I go to around the kitchen and the living room, picking up empty cans and bottles of beer. I take the emptys to the front door where Daddy kept the boxes they came in and put them in. We kept the boxes by the door so when he finished them, he could take them back to the store and get money for them. He never got much, but he always said every cent counted.

I took a table cloth and wiped down the coffee table, getting rid of the leftover powder, ashes, and sticky spilt splotches of alcohol.

Someone started banging on the door, and they didn't stop until I opened it. The man at the door opened his mouth but shut it when he saw me, surprised. His skin was dark and his head was shaven, he was tall but not as tall as Daddy.

I knew him, sort of. Daddy brought plenty of people over on many occasions, and they were always different people. Only a few faces I had seen regularly, his was one of them, but we never actually talked.

"Uh . . . hey." He said. That was when I noticed the blood. My eyes widened at the sight of him holding his forearm, both arms a mess of blood. It's hard to tell with Marcus' dark skin, but his face seemed flushed, he was sweating badly.

"Daddy!" I called. "Mister Marcus is here!"

I opened the door and stepped aside for him to walk in, as he did I eyed his wound. I heard Daddy's loud footsteps as he made his way to us.

"Holy shit, Marcus, what the hell?!"

"I tried to tell you on the phone, shits gone crazy."

"Sit down! Toby, get tha' bandages an' stuff."

I nodded and ran down the hallway to the bathroom, when I got there I opened the cupboard under the sink. There, were a box of bandages some gauze, and a large brown bottle of peroxide. Along with Windex and other cleaning stuff.

I grabbed the bandages, gauze, and peroxide, then ran back to the living room. I placed the stuff on the coffee table.

"Good girl." Daddy said, picking up the bottle of peroxide, "now get some towels or somethin' he's bleedin' all ova' my good furniture."

"Fuck you, man, this couch is like fifteen years old."

"Yeah, an' you're buyin' me a new one."

When I got them the towel, Daddy started wiping the blood off his arms.

"What happened to you?" Marcus asked, eyeing the blood on Daddy's shirt.

"Same tha' 'appened to you I reckon."

"I . . ." Marcus hesitated, eyeing me. When Daddy noticed his hesitation, he followed his gaze to me.

"Relax, the kids seen blood before, now . . . what . . . is this a fuckin' bite?"

"Shits crazy, just like I said, man. This bitch just comes up, gross as hell, blood spillin' out a her mouth. Fuckin' jumps me, then freaking bites me. She wouldn't stop, she just wouldn't stop. I was able to get in my car and I-then I hit her, I didn't mean to but I was tripping out. I still am, I don' even know if it's fuckin' real, dude."

Daddy stayed quiet, wiping the blood until a clear imprint of a bite mark appeared on Marcus' left forearm.

"Han' me tha' bottle," Daddy reached out to me.

I unscrewed the cap of the bottle of the peroxide and handed it to him. Daddy wastes no time pouring the clear liquid straight from the bottle and right onto the bite.

Marcus screams in pain and I flinched, "ahh! What the fuck, Clyde, Holy fuckin' shit."

"Shut up, ya pussy. That chick was probably sick, same as e'eryone else. How many a' those pills ya take? An' when?"

"Couple hours ago, I took two. I hit her, man, just slammed right into her, I didn't even stop, I just kept driving. I think I fucking killed her."

"Couple hours ain't 'nough for me, I ain't havin' ya O.D. on my couch, now when." Daddy said in a firm voice as he began to wrap Marcus' arm.

"Like . . . noon. It was noon."

"Should be fine then. I'll getcha a perc, help ya keep ya shit together." Daddy got up and turned to me, "make yourself useful, get some beers."

I nodded and did what he said, pulling two bottles out of the fridge. I went back to them as Marcus swallows a round, white pill.

Daddy took his beer from me and twisted the cap off, "Seen the riots at the prison on the news. Tha' shit is nuts, ya talk to your brother?"

"Not for a couple months, Oscar hates me goin' to see him at the prison."

Daddy scoffed, "how else would ya see 'im? 'Less he gets out soon?"

"Got four more years. Don't matter though, I'm gonna get thrown in there with him."

"Jus' relax, cops are shootin' people out on the streets, no one's gonna give a shit 'bout you runnin' over some sick bitch. Like you said, she attacked ya."

Marcus looked down and put his head in his hands with a sigh. I stepped closer to him, putting the cold beer in his line of sight. He glanced up at me, then forced a small smile.

"Thanks." Marcus glances at my left leg, "Are those knives?"

"Yeah," Daddy answered, "she throws 'em aroun' sometimes."

Marcus scrunched his eyebrows together, "You gave your kid knives?"

Daddy leaned in close to Marcus, glaring "don' come in 'ere an' question me, boy, ain't none a' ya fuckin' business."

Marcus waved a hand in surrender, "sorry . . . So that broadcast . . . On my way here I stopped at my sister-in-laws house, there was a note on the door, she left and took the kids to Atlanta. You goin'?"

"Screw that. I's bullshit, e'erytime there's a storm they tell e'eryone ta leave town cause they say the lakes gonna flood. An' how many times has that lake flooded?"

"Uh . . ."

"The righ' answer, is not once. Not once in thirty years has tha' lake flooded. Even if you do go to Atlan'na, I guarantee you no one ain't gonna know what to do. It'll do no one no good, jus' start riots, then we get shot at like those people on the news, uh uh." He shook his head.

"Yeah . . . I guess."

"Hey," Daddy said after taking a sip of his beer. "You hear from Dixon? Called me a couple weeks ago lookin' ta get some refills, haven't heard from 'im since."

"Why the hell would I hear from him? That racist hick wouldn't give me the time of day if the world ended."

Daddy chuckled and leaned back into the couch, "And you think I would?"

"You get me what I ask for, I don't give a damn what you say. You can say you're in the KKK for all I care."

Daddy shrugged a shoulder, "S'long as I get paid."

Marcus laughed, but his laugh soon erupted into a fit of coughs. The coughs seemed to get louder and more hoarse as he dropped his beer. Luckily he hadn't opened it yet. Me and Daddy watched him as he struggled to breathe, after a few more moments of coughing Marcus is able to catch his breath and pulls his hands from his face.

Daddy's eyes widened at Marcus' hands, "shit . . . tha' blood?"

Sure enough, there were drops of blood splattered across Marcus' hands.

8:38 pm

As the hours passed by, Marcus got worse, his coughing soon turned to vomiting. I had to get the cleaning bucket from under the sink because Daddy couldn't get him to walk to the bathroom.

After the first couple hours, Marcus couldn't take a breath without wincing from the pain. His eyes went bloodshot and he was sweating literal buckets. I got Marcus some water, but he couldn't keep anything down, with every sip he just vomited. But I kept getting him clean water, even though I knew he couldn't drink it.

I thought it might just be the flu, I had the flu a lot of times, so I figured he'd feel better later on. But then Daddy actually started calling the hospital. After the fifth unanswered call, I watched as he dialled three numbers, but again, the call went unanswered.

He yelled in frustration, "how in hell is 9-1-1 busy, ain't they always supposed to answer? Tha's their thing righ'? Tha's their fuckin' job!"

Daddy ran a hand through his hair and glanced at me, "what're you lookin' at me like that for?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, talking risked making him even more mad, but I was curious. "Why are we callin' the hospital? You said we don' believe in no pansy ass doctors." I said, trying to remember his exact words.

"We don'. I don' know what the fuck ta do with 'im, you got any ideas?!"

"No . . ."

"Then keep quiet. I'm gonna take a shower."

I watched Daddy leave the room to go down the hallway. I glanced at the couch where Marcus was lying down. His breathing was ragged and shallow, he didn't look like he was getting any better.

He opened his eyes as if sensing my presence. He moaned in pain as he shifted the position of his injured arm over his stomach.

I bit my lip, "are . . . are you okay?"

"Just hurts," he replied in a whisper, as if it hurt to speak.

Hesitantly I reached out my hand to his uninjured arm, when our skin made contact I pulled back, surprised by the heat that came off his skin. His fever was bad. What did you do for someone who had a fever? Weren't you supposed to get a cold towel? Or was it a hot towel for fevers?

He already feels hot, I don't think a hot towel would help. After considering, I go to the kitchen and soak a washcloth with cold water in the sink. I walked back to Marcus with the cold washcloth but froze in front of him, an uneasy feeling growing inside of me.

His eyes were closed again, but that wasn't what bothered me. His breathing was no longer ragged or loud, it was nothing. I watched him for a moment, waiting for his chest to rise as he inhaled, but it didn't. I stepped closer, placing the cloth on the table.

"Mister Marcus?" When he didn't respond, I nudged his shoulder with my hand.

Again, he made no movement. My first thought was that he was sleeping, but thinking that felt so wrong. Something about all of it felt very wrong.

I gripped his shoulder tight and shook him, "mister Marcus, wake up."

When again, he didn't respond, panic filled me, "DADDY!"

I heard a door open and Daddy called out, "what?!"

I didn't answer, I didn't know what to say. I wasn't even sure what was wrong. When Daddy didn't hear me say anything he came into the living room, still wearing his bloody shirt, he hadn't gotten in the shower yet.

"What?" He said, annoyed, "wha's your problem?"

Like Marcus, I was unresponsive, but not for the same reason. Daddy walked around the couch, following my eyes. He glanced from me to Marcus, and after watching silently for a moment, he realized the same thing I did.

"Hey," he shook Marcus, when nothing happened, he placed two fingers on the side of his neck.

Daddy waited a couple seconds then backed away in a hurry, almost walking into me. He put both his hands on his head and started muttering, "shit shit shit shit shit."

Daddy began pacing around the room, his face turned red and his eyes seemed to bulge out of their sockets, "what the hell 'appened, he puke? Was he chokin'? I was gone five fuckin' minutes!"

"N-nothin'! I don't-I don't know, he was talkin' an' stuff, now he ain't." I said in a hurry.

"Well, I can see tha'." He sighed, "son of a bitch . . . go to your room, an' stay there."

9:00 pm

I was sitting on my bed, hugging my knees, waiting. I wasn't really sure what I was waiting for, maybe a sound, a sound to indicate what Daddy was doing, something. Or maybe I was waiting for him to say I could come out, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to. I couldn't tell what I was feeling, scared, sad, confused, anxious. Maybe all of those feelings, maybe none of them.

I kept trying to think of things to occupy my mind. Sleep? No, I wasn't tired. Practice with the knives? No, I'd have to leave my room for that. Daddy told me to stay in my room, so that's what I did.

I felt a familiar cramping, clenching sensation in my stomach. That reminded me I hadn't eaten since the morning, I contemplated going to find something to eat, but again, I would have to leave. I looked through the kitchen earlier anyways, all I found were those pop tarts, I'd have to wait and see if Daddy brought anything later.

I jumped up at a loud banging and crashing sound. I could hear Daddy yelling but it didn't sound like he was using words, more banging, the sound of things falling followed. I jumped off the bed and ran to my door. I slowly twisted the doorknob and peeked my head out into the hallway.

At the end of the hallway, right being pushed up against the wall was Daddy. Marcus was leaning into him, his face inches away from Daddy's, opening and closing his mouth while snarling. Daddy held his wrists trying to push him away, struggling to do so.

"Get my gun!" Daddy yelled when he noticed me. I hesitated, scared and confused "NOW!"

I snapped into reality and went to Daddy's room, I was never allowed in there unless told otherwise. When I was in there, I went to his dresser and opened the top drawer. I was too short to look so I had to reach my hand in, looking for where Daddy hid the gun. When I felt the tips of my finger graze something cold and metallic, I stood on the tips of my toes, trying to reach further.

When I was finally able to grasp it, I ran back into the hallway, just as the two men tumbled to the floor.

"Shoot!"

My eyes widened, I didn't want to but Daddy always said that if something happened, if bad people ever came, I'd have to be ready to pull the trigger. I flicked the safety off and watched as the men wrestled, waiting for Marcus to stop moving, at least a little bit. I'd known Marcus for a long time, we never talked but he knew Daddy, he came by every couple months to pick stuff up from Daddy and give him money. I vaguely remembered his brother, Oscar, coming by a couple times. But that was a long time ago, maybe two or three years.

Among all the strangers and new faces that would visit Daddy or he would bring home, I liked seeing Marcus, I think it might've been the sense of familiarity he gave me that made me like him so much. I didn't understand why he was acting like he was. I swear, a couple minutes before he wasn't even breathing.

Daddy tried his best to hold Marcus over his body, practically shielding his body the best he could while Marcus kept trying to attack him. Daddy knew how bad my aim was, that's why he was trying to cover his body the best he could. I raised the gun and used my thumb to pull the hammer back on the gun, loading the bullet into its chamber.

I kept moving the gun to aim it at Marcus, but he wasn't staying still, my hands were shaking and I couldn't think straight.

"JUS' SHOOT 'IM!"

As soon as he yelled, I squeezed my finger around the trigger. I felt the gun jump with the kickback and heard the bang. The bullet hit Marcus' shoulder, he looked up with wide eyes, not making any notice I had shot him. He stared at me, mouth wide open, drool and blood dripping from his chin. There was something in his eyes, they were different from before, tinted a yellowish colour, but there was also something that wasn't there. I couldn't explain it or make sense of it, his eyes seemed almost empty, dull.

A growling sound escaped Marcus' throat as he stared at me. Fear bubbled in my stomach and I squeezed the trigger again. The gun jumped and Marcus' left cheek exploded into a mess of blood. This only agitated him more instead of stopping him. Daddy threw his fist up into Marcus' already bloodied cheek, knocking him over. When he was on the ground Daddy straddled him, punching his face repeatedly. Each punch sounded worst than the last, Daddy was pounding his fists hard into his face. Several times I thought I could hear bones cracking.

After so long, it seemed like Daddy wasn't going to stop. But he did. He took a deep breath and stood up, rushing away from Marcus and toward me. Daddy stood beside me, after we exchanged a fearful glance at each other, we looked back At Marcus' body.

When all seemed quiet, we heard that ugly predatory sound again as Marcus lifted his head to us, his face bloodied and broken. I felt the gun get ripped from my grasp and Daddy aimed it down at Marcus with one hand, and he didn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

Again, the house went silent. Although Marcus seemed still, we watched and waited for him to move again. All we could hear was the sound of our breathing.

"'e was dead." Daddy muttered, "'e was fucking dead." Daddy lowered the gun and ran a hand through his hair.

" . . . was mister Marcus like those people on the TV?" I asked him, fear and adrenalin making it sound like a whimper.

He glanced down at me for a brief moment, face unchanging, then nodded. He walked away from me, stepping over Marcus and into the living room, "le's go, we're goin'."

"Where?" I asked, slowly following him, not taking my eyes off the beaten body.

"Fuckin' Disneyland, what the fuck ya think? Atlan'na."

I followed him to the door, he picked up the backpack he had been packing early that was left by the door.

"But . . . you said-"

"-Jus' do what I fuckin' say. I fuckin' said we're goin', now get in the car 'fore I beat ya."

I followed him out the door in a hurry. Outside, the sky was a darkish blue, it was almost night time but not quite yet. We went to the car and I made my way around the passenger side. When I got in, Daddy threw the backpack into twisted the key in the ignition, the engine roared to life. I waited for him to put the car in gear but he hesitated, thinking hard about something.

"Shit," he muttered. He opened his door and stepped out of the car, leaving the car running. I watched in the rearview mirror as he walked back into the house. A minute later, he came out and returned to the car.

He slammed his door shut and I saw something orange in his hand. He reached across me and opened the glove box, then threw the orange object in and slammed it shut. After thinking about it, I realized it was a pill bottle.

Daddy put the car in gear then backed out of the driveway.

10:59 pm

It was a long drive to Atlanta, and the entire way, Daddy was mostly silent. When he saw a few tears had leaked down my face, he told me to stop crying, that I wasn't a baby. I did my best to keep my expression blank, but I felt scared. And I was confused. Marcus got sick, then he got violent, just like the people on TV. But that didn't help me calm down.

Daddy always got mad if I cried, sometimes even when I was excited about something, he would say 'wipe that smirk off your face.'

He taught me to not show other how I felt, that it made me weak, gave them an advantage, to what I wasn't sure. Depending on who Daddy was talking to, he always acted different, at home with me he was angry and impatient. If he had people over he seemed at bit more at ease, sometimes he had fun and would laugh with the people that were with him, but he still had angry outbursts.

I remembered when we had gotten pulled over by the cops once, he had put on this big smile and calm voice, talking respectively. But as soon as the cop turned his back, the charming expression was gone and Daddy was angry.

"Never show anyone what you're really feelin'. Cops want respect, give it to 'em, whether you 'ave it or not. Then they leave ya alone an' stay outta your business. No one needs to know our business."

When we made it to the highway, it wasn't long until we had to stop the car. The road was blocked by other cars, a lot. I couldn't tell how many, but because we weren't in the city yet, I guessed it was a lot.

"Shoulda fuckin' known." Daddy grumbled out when he stopped the car. There were people in front of us, talking to each other. Some were leaning against their cars.

It was easy for me to guess what was going on. There were too many people, maybe they weren't letting anyone else in the safe zone. Daddy got out of the car, and I stayed. I watched as he walked up to a woman with a smile. I couldn't hear what they were saying but I knew Daddy was asking what she knew.

When Daddy was done talking to her, he came back in the car and took a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket. He lit a cigarette, swearing under his breath. I watched him, wondering what we were going to do. He glanced at me and must've guessed my thought.

"Jus' gotta wait. No one knows what's goin' on."

When Daddy finished his smoke he got out of the car again, but for no apparent reason. He stood for a bit, then started pacing. At one point he stopped and was leaning against the hood of the car.

It felt like we had been waiting a long time when Daddy started talking to someone else, I still stayed in the car.

I pulled a knife out of one of its slots on my leg, I hadn't even taken the holster off from this morning. Which I was kind of happy about, it didn't seem like we were going home anytime soon. I fiddled with the knife for a bit bored.

After a few minutes I heard the car door open again and jumped, surprised at the sound. Daddy leaned in the car and reached his arm to the back seat, then pulled the backpack out.

"Stay put," he said, simply. He swung the bag over his shoulder and slammed the door.

At first, I thought he was just going to talk to the other people again. But instead, he walked right by them, I watched, confused as he walked past the other cars, disappearing from view.

I only realized I fell asleep when I'm awoken by an unmistakable chopping sound. It takes me a moment, but I realized it was more than one.

Helicopters?

I opened the car door and looked up seeing a helicopter fly overhead, very close. I had never seen one fly so low. I see some people running in the direction of the helicopter, as more follow. I follow the people into a forest area on the side of the highway, listening the blades of the helicopters beat the air into submission.

I ran through the forest, a little excited at the sight. I stop near a group of people, and looked ahead. We were standing on a hill that over passed the city of Atlanta. There was a strange sound from a distance and a small section of the city erupted lit up. This happened again and again, the sounds of the bombs exploding over the city slightly vibrating the ground. People were screaming, but you could hardly hear them over the deafening sounds of the bombs and the helicopters.

All the fear I had felt before returned in that moment. Why would they bomb the place they wanted us to go? Would they bomb here next?

At that thought, I turned and ran as fast as I could back to the highway. When my feet reached the pavement I glanced at the car, The passenger door was open, I hadn't closed it when I left the car. Daddy wasn't back yet. The fear got worse as I heard the helicopter sounds get louder, they were coming back our way. I could still hear people screaming and yelling.

I joined them, "Daddy!"

I ran in the direction I saw him go, I was running down the middle of the road in between two rows of cars, pushing past people as I ran and called for Daddy. I kept looking around and looking behind me, double checking I hadn't passed him. Where is he?

I looked up at the helicopters flying overhead when I felt the breeze they caused. Much to my relief, they kept flying without dropping anything.

I started running again, most people seemed to step out of my way as they saw me come by. Someone decided to do the exact opposite, stepping backward right in front of me, I tried to dodge the person but their movement was unexpected and I ran into their side. After I bumped into them I tumbled back, and a cars side view mirror slammed into my shoulder.

I held my shoulder and groaned in pain.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. Are you alright?"

I looked up, seeing a scrawny woman in a brown shirt, she had very short hair that looked shaven. I merely glanced at her, slightly mad but careful not to show it. I glanced passed her at the car behind her. Standing on the other side was a women with long brown hair, and with her, a tall man with thick black hair and broad shoulders. The two eyed me skeptically.

"Are you okay?" The woman in front of me asked.

I glanced at her again, but turned away and started running again. I have to find Daddy.

I kept looking around as I ran, expecting to see him, "Daddy!"

"Hey!"

Not recognising the voice calling out, I kept running. When the voice kept calling out, I glanced behind me, curious. Behind me, jogging, was the tall man with black hair I'd seen a few moments before. I wasn't running anymore but slowly walking while looking behind me, curious about the man.

"Hey, girl, hold up."

I glanced in front of me, making sure it was me he was addressing. I stopped in place and watched him as he stopped in front of me, panting a bit.

"Where are you running to?"

"I'm lookin'." I said, about to turn away.

"For your Dad? I heard you yelling."

I merely nodded. People don't need to know our business, I remembered Daddy telling me so many times. But I was scared, and he wasn't around. I was terrified the helicopters would come back. I wanted to find Daddy so we could get the hell out of there.

He lowered himself closer to my height, "what's he look like? Maybe I've seen him."

I glanced behind me, into the direction Daddy went. I should be looking, but I wanted help. I wanted to leave, to get out of there. But I have to find Daddy.

"Where did you see him last?" the man asked.

I pointed in the direction Daddy walked away in.

"Why don't I help you look for him? Okay?" He showed me a small smile, but I only stare. Why does he want to help so much?

"O-Okay . . ." I said quietly.

He smiled wider, "alright. I'm Officer Shane Walsh of the King's County PD, what's your name?"

My eyes widened, "you're a cop?"

He nodded, "yeah I am."

I felt my body tense up, remembering everything Daddy ever told me about cops. "Bye," I said, turning around to leave.

The Officer stepped in front of me, "hold up a sec. You aren't in trouble or anything, I'll help you look for him."

I looked down at my feet, "Daddy says I'm not supposed ta talk ta cops."

He looked confused for a second, but shrugged it off. "Come on, let's get you back to your dad."

I didn't say anything but I was very skeptical about it. I walked beside him as we went the same way Daddy did.

Me and the Officer stopped, watching a group of people try to pull two men away from each other as they fought. They were screaming yelling at each other. I stepped back a bit, surprised at the sight, then glanced at up at the Officer, waiting for him to interfere.

"Do you see him?" He asked.

I shook my head, we'd been walking for a while, he had even stopped a couple times to ask someone if they'd seen my Daddy. I couldn't understand where he'd went or why. Did he see the helicopters?

Why isn't he back?

"Did you take a car here?" He asked.

I nodded.

"Do you know where it is?"

I nodded again and he returned the gesture.

"Let's go back, maybe we missed him. Don't worry, we'll find him."

I wasn't so sure but turned around, following him. After a few minutes of walking, he knelt down to my height and I stopped.

"You need to tell me a little more, alright? I know you're scared but-"

"-I ain't scared." I denied.

He nodded, "that's good. Now tell me what happened. How did you lose him? Did you run off? Was there a crowd and you couldn't see him?"

I shook my head, "'e left, 'e told me ta stay in the car. I was gonna but I saw the helicopters . . ." I trailed off.

His eyebrows scrunched together, "did he say anything else, where he was going or why?"

"No. We were waitin' a long time, then 'e took the bag an' told me ta stay in the car."

"What bag?"

"'e packed a bag 'fore we left 'ome."

He thought about what I told him, then without a word, got up and continued walking. Then we both saw a tall, skinny woman, with long brown hair jogging toward us. She looked familiar and I remembered seeing her by the car with the Officer.

"Shane!" When she got close to us I could tell that she'd been crying.

"Lori, I told you to stay with Carl."

"You were taking too long, we got worried. One of them came out of the woods, Carol's husband killed it, we have to figure out what to do, we can't stay any longer."

"I know, I've been trying to figure it out."

At that moment, I decided to keep going, to find out if Daddy was back at the car. The Officer stopped me by putting a hand on my shoulder, "just hold on."

"What's going on?" Lori asked, wiping away her tears, obviously trying to hold her fear back, "why was she running?"

"She can't find her dad, I looked with her for a bit, but . . ."

"But what?"

The Officer sighed and glanced at me, then leaned in close to Lori, talking in her ear.

When the Officer finished, Lori stared at him with disbelief, "are you sure?"

"No, but I don't have a way to make sure, not unless he shows up."

Lori glanced looked down at me, "what's your name, sweetie?"

I didn't say anything, instead I pretended I didn't hear her. I didn't want to talk or listen to them talk anymore. I wanted to find my Daddy, he was already going to be mad I left the car, and there I was talking to a cop . . . He wasn't going to be happy when we found him.

"She's just shook up a bit, she saw the helicopters."

"That was just awful . . ." she commented.

"I was thinking, you know that place me and Rick used to go camping? The clearing by the quarry?"

She nodded, "Yeah."

"That isn't that far from here, and it isn't far from the city. So when rescue comes it would be easy for them to find us there. We could just hold the fort there until then."

"What if someone's already there?"

"We'll figure something out, plenty of room there."

"We can't wait any longer, we're out in the open, what're we going to do with . . ." Lori trailed off, biting her lip while she looked at me.

Shane looked at me again and crouched down, giving me an intense look. "How much do you know, about what's been going on?"

"Daddy had the news on lots, lots of people are getting sick, an' killin' . . ." I answered.

"Do you understand that it is dangerous here?"

"Yeah."

"Is it only you and your dad? Do you have anyone else?"

"No."

"Where's your mom?" Lori asked.

"Mama left Daddy a long time ago, said 'e ain't no man, tha' 'e had ta find 'is own pair a stones 'fore 'e ever got 'er back."

Both of their eyes widened and they looked at each other.

Shane ran a hand through his hair, "I don't know where your dad is, and there isn't anyway to tell when he'll get back. But it isn't smart to stay here in the open. Those sick people on the news you saw, more of them might come, it's dangerous. This is going to be hard to hear, but it might be best if you leave with us."

"What? I can't-"

"-Just listen. We're going to camp out at a place not to far from here, do you like camping?"

"Daddy takes me camping lots."

"That's good, because I haven't been in a long time, you can remind me how to do it right." He smiled.

"I can't leave my Daddy, what 'appens when 'e comes back? I can't not be there. I wasn't even s'posed ta leave tha car." I said in a hurry.

"I understand that. But again, there's no telling when he'll get back, and I don't feel right about leaving you alone. It isn't right." He bit his lip and looked up at Lori from where he was crouched in front of me, "do you have a pen, some paper?"

"I might, in the car, why?" She answered, crossing her arms.

"Let's go." He said, and got up. I followed them both closely until they reached their car. I contemplated to keep going, but I knew he'd just stop me again. I was scared, he was right about staying here, but could I really just leave Daddy?

Lori opened her car door and leaned in and began to look for the objects the Officer wanted.

"Shane, where'd you go?" A boy walked up to me and Shane, he had brown hair and blue eyes. His shirt was grey with a paw print in the center.

"Hey, little man. I was just helping this girl out. Just sit tight for a bit, we might be going really soon."

"Okay," He said, the boy glanced at me and gave a slight wave, "hi."

I didn't say anything and watched as the boy turned, and walked around the car.

Lori crawled out of the car and turned to the Officer, holding a piece of paper and a plastic pen, "I have a receipt, will that do?"

The Officer smiled and took both objects from her, placing them on the hood of the car, "that'll do just fine."

I got closer and leaned in as he began to scribble words on to the paper.

"Shane?" Lori questioned, "what're you doing?"

"We can't stay here and we can't leave her. Her dad could come back right when we leave, we don't know." He said as he wrote, "So, I'll leave this for him and he'll know where she is."

"Then he can come an' get me?" I asked.

He nodded and gave the pen to Lori, then turned to me, "lead the way."

"Hurry back," Lori said.

I led him to where me and Daddy parked the car. It took a few minutes to get back, their car was far away from ours. When we got there, I saw the passenger door was still open.

"Is that it?"

I nodded, disappointed Daddy wasn't there still. He walked up to the passenger door and leaned in the car. I watched as he placed the note on the dash, right on the drivers side. He reached down then got out of the car, holding the car keys.

"Does your dad keep anything in the trunk?" He asked, walking around the car.

"He puts stuff in there when we go camping."

He put the key in the lock of the trunk and turned it, he pulled the trunk open and glanced in. He sighed and shook his head. I went beside him and peered in, seeing nothing but an old blanket. He picked it up and held it out to me, "here, just in case. You don't have anything else with you, do you?"

I shook my head and he sighed, "you don't have your own bag?"

"I didn't know we were goin' anywhere 'til we left."

He glanced around, "stay here a sec, I'm going to ask them if they've seen where he went." Shane walked around the car again, and went to the car in front of us, there was a woman there, the one daddy had talked to. Looking in the trunk, I see something familiar in the far back.

My slingshot.

I was looking for that, it must've fallen out of the bag last time we went camping. I reached in, leaning my whole body into the trunk and grabbed it. Then I went to the passenger seat of the car and glanced around. I felt really bad about leaving, but this place scared me. And looking around, everyone else was getting ready to leave. No one was staying, I couldn't either. I didn't even want to see one of those things.

I glanced around the inside of the car, even looking in the back. Trying to see if there was anything Daddy had left behind. Then I remember him opening the glovebox when we first left. I opened it, peering in, I could see crumpled papers and the bright orange bottle. I reached in and grabbed it, I also saw and old pen, I wasn't sure why, but I made myself grab it.

I took the bottle, the pen, and my slingshot, wrapping them in the blanket the Officer retrieved from the trunk.
I held the wrapped blanket with one arm over my thigh, covering my knives. The Officer hadn't noticed them yet and I wasn't sure how he would react when he did.
Officer Shane strode back over to me, a disappointed look on his face.

"Sorry, kid . . ."

I looked down at my feet. I felt weak and tired and my stomach hurt. I still hadn't eaten anything since the pop tarts. I forced myself to ignore the feeling, like I had so many times before. I had gotten good at it. Officer Shane walked behind me and slammed the trunk door. He stepped away, but I stepped toward it, pulling the car keys out of the lock and shoving them into my Jeans pocket.

He eyed me for a moment, than shrugged it off, "come on, you can meet Carl. He's about your age I think, you saw him at our car."
I nodded and followed him back.

"Don't we have anything?" I heard the boy whine when we returned, "I'm starving."

Lori looked down at him with a firm expression, "Carl, we're all hungry. You just have to wait like the rest of us."

"Wait, I found these in my purse." The short haired woman I ran into earlier walked up to Lori, showing her something in her hand.

"Thank you, I really appreciate it."

The woman nodded, handing one of the things in her hand to a small girl with short blonde hair, sitting on the number of the back of a van.
She reached out to Carl, giving him something as well.

"What do you say?"

"Thank you." Carl said. He went sat on the same bumper as the little girl, but they were about a foot apart.
Lori glanced over at me and Officer Shane, she looked relieved at the sight of him , Officer Shane crouched down to me and pointed at the kids sitting on the bumper.

"That's Carl, and that's Sophia." Both of the kids looked up at me and Shane, hearing their names.

"Why don't you go sit tight with them while we figure this out, okay?"
I bit my lip and nodded, walking toward them. Anxiety and hunger twisted together in my stomach. I was never good with other kids, they never liked me and I never liked them.

Carl, who heard me and Officer Shane's exchange, scooted over closer to Sophia. He tapped beside him with one hand. "You can sit beside me if you want."

I didn't say anything but sat beside him. I heard a crinkling sound and looked at his hands. He was unwrapping a granola bar. I bit my lip again and looked down at my lap, holding the blanket there while trying to ignore the cramping in my stomach. Abruptly, a hand appears in my line of sight, half of a granola bar settled into the palm.

I glanced up at Carl, confused.

"Here," he mumbled, biting into the other half, "I'm not that hungry anyways."

Hesitantly, I took it the half of the granola bar from his hand, "thanks."

He gave a slight smile and looked over to where Officer Shane was. He was with Lori, that scrawny woman and another man I didn't see before.

"That's my mom," he told me pointing at Lori, "and that's Sophia's mom and dad."

I opened my mouth to speak but stopped myself. Whenever I talked to the kids at school, they made fun of me, saying I talked weird.

"Where are your parents?" Sophia asked, leaning forward to look passed Carl at me.

I shrugged. I wasn't sure where Daddy was and I hadn't seen Mama since I was seven or eight.

"What's your name?" Carl asked.

And again I just shrugged, looking down, taking a small bite into the piece of granola bar.

"Is she shy?" I heard Sophia ask in a hushed voice.

"I'll ask Shane." Carl said.

"Ask me what?" Officer Shane walked over to us with an unreadable expression.

"What's her name?" Carl asked, "she won't tell us."

I kept looking down but I could feel Shane's eyes on me.

"I don't know, bud. Just leave her be for a few minutes, alright? Everyone's a bit on edge."

"Okay."

"How do you two feel about camping?"

I looked up and Carl smiled "we're going camping?"

He nodded with a smile at Carl, "that's right. We are. Just until this mess gets sorted out."

"What about her, is she coming?" Sophia asked, glancing at me.

"Yeah, she is. She got lost so she's going to stay with us until we can find her dad. We're packing everything up now, make sure you have everything, we're gonna leave in a minute."

A couple days later, I was sitting with Lori and Carl by the fire pit. It was about noon or so.

I wasn't sure what was taking Daddy so long, but I figured it shouldn't be too much longer. There were a lot of times Daddy left the house and didn't come back for a couple days, but he always came back.

The day after we set up camp, someone with an RV stopped at the road, an old man named Dale, and two girls, sisters. They parked in the clearing with us. I hadn't really talked to Dale, or anyone for that matter, but he let me look at his books. He was nice.

"Who are they?" Carl asked Lori.

"I don't know, baby." Lori stroked his head, looking at Shane from a distance. A couple minutes before, two strange men had wondered onto our camp. Shane had been talking to them since.

One of them was shorter than the other, with light brown hair, a crossbow slung over his shoulder, carrying a bag in his hand. The other man was a bit taller, his head partially shaven, he was also larger in size, more well built.

Shane and the two men split up, they walked over by the edge of the forest. Lori stood up as Shane reached us, "what's going on?"

"That's Merle and Daryl Dixon, they're going to be staying with us."

Dixon.

Something in my head snapped at that name. I thought about it for a moment, wondering why it bugged me so much. After a moment I shrugged it off as I watched the two men set up camp.

There were two easter eggs in this chapter that I felt very proud of putting in, one was rather obvious as it was the answer to a question many of you asked . . . The second, I'm not sure how obvious it is. Maybe no one will get it, but that's okay cause you will in the future.