The panic attack didn't get the chance to end before the grieving kicked in. I tried pushing myself through hyperventilation and crying, my hand gripping the hem of my shirt, so I could feel something. In those moments, it felt like I was fighting to survive. I couldn't keep track of how long I had been standing there.

Rick had pulled Lori and Carl away so they didn't have to look at her body anymore. They were still crying, not that I blamed them. They may have only known Amy for a month, but she had impacted their lives since being here, especially Carl. I had known Amy for even less time, two weeks at most, and I was an absolute mess.

A body blocked my own, but at that point, it didn't matter. I had already seen too much. Amy getting bitten was replaying in my head, over and over and over. My hands balled into fists and moved to cover my mouth, a feeble attempt to quieten my uncontrollable sobbing. Tears rolled down my cheeks, the wetness gathering around the neck of my hoodie.

"Don' look," Daryl. He was standing in front of me, coaxing me backwards in a silent gesture. He placed a hand on my shoulder, moving me away from the RV. He didn't have to push me; the light touch was enough to get me to walk away.

He led me to chairs near the edge of the camp, overlooking the city. It was dark, I couldn't see anything, but I knew it was there. Even if any of the lights were on in Atlanta, my vision would have been too blurry to actually make any shapes out from the darkness of the night.

"Sit," he pulled the chair forward, turning it further away from the motorhome. The crossbow swung down his arm, but the shotgun he had arrived at camp had been discarded somewhere.

I did as I was told and sat down in the chair, crying into the sleeves of my hoodie. Daryl was still standing there, but he didn't say anything for a little while. It was maybe a minute or so before he spoke up.

"Ya weren't bit, were ya?" It took me way too long to realise that it was a question. A dead thing had barely been near me, but my crying over everything had taken over. I thought he would be frustrated at my lack of answer, but his face held no expression. "Ace?"

The use of my name was strange. I forgot I had even told him. But after choking down my sobs, I was able to shake my head no. I tried to quieten myself down, the crying had stopped, but I was still struggling to breathe.

"You got a drink or somethin'?" I shook my head to answer him. My own bottle was in my yellow bag in the tent with the rest of my things. "Wait there."

He came back with a clear plastic bottle of water, which I took. I sipped the liquid before putting the lid back on the bottle. I exhaled deeply, hoping that the jerking in my chest would stop. It had taken a minute for me to calm down, but eventually, I did.

Daryl took the seat next to me, putting his crossbow on the ground. He leaned forwards, so his elbows rested on his knees. He looked tired. I remembered that they went back to Atlanta to get Merle, but I didn't see Merle return with the group. I contemplated asking him what had happened for a moment, but I thought that maybe he needed to talk about it.

"What—?" My own hiccup cut me off. "What happened to Merle?"

Daryl didn't hesitate to answer. "Bastard cut his own hand off."

That had taken me by surprise. I felt my eyes widen, and I sat back a little. He was handcuffed to a pipe in Atlanta, but I never thought that he would go as far as dismembering himself. I guess that just showed me how strong Merle actually was.

"Is he . . . ?" I couldn't finish the end of the sentence.

"He ain't dead," Daryl shook his head quickly. "Woulda found his body."

Daryl never seemed like the person that would be sad to me, but his face held no emotion as he spoke about losing his own brother made me feel bad. When he found out that Merle had been left in Atlanta, he was angry. He had gotten over losing his brother in hours because he had to protect the group.

I felt terrible for him. "I'm sorry."

"He ain't dead," Daryl repeated, glancing at me. His gaze returned to Atlanta, heavy and focused on the darkened city. "I'm gonna find 'im. Nobody can kill Merle but Merle."

"I know," I spoke quietly, finally getting a complete sentence out without breaking down. "But he's still gone. I know what it feels like when someone is missing."

"Dumbass should have just waited," Daryl scoffed. "We came right back for 'im."

Maybe I should have just waited.

The situation was vastly different. Merle was the one that should have waited, and he was the one that went missing and got hurt. In my case, I did not wait, but I wasn't hurt. Arguably, I was better off; I'd found this group, these people. It was possible that if I had waited, I would be dead.

The opposite could also be true . . . I could be okay with my dad.

No matter how different mine and Merle's situation was, I couldn't help but compare them. I couldn't stop the feelings of grief, guilt, and anxiety that came with leaving my dad behind. I desperately wanted to talk about it, but Daryl was grieving himself. There didn't seem to be a suitable person to speak with. I just swallowed it down, trying to think of anything else.

Gravelly footsteps broke me from my thoughts, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Rick walking over to us. "Daryl," he placed his hand on my shoulder as he neared, giving me a weak attempt for a smile. His voice was quieter as this time, he addressed me. "Hey."

"Somethin' ya want?" Daryl asked, a little annoyed.

Rick turned back to Daryl, his hand not leaving my shoulder. "I need to start moving the bodies; wondering if you have anything I can use to make sure none of the walkers come back."

Daryl nodded and stood up.

"I saw a pickaxe around here; guess a quarry was good for one thing. Don' have to waste any ammo destroying the brains then neither," he told Rick, not trying to keep his voice down. I cringed at how easily he spoke about destroying their brains, knowing that I was almost sick with the dead thing from that morning. "I'll go find it."

"You don't have to do that," Rick stated, stepping over to talk to Daryl before he left. "You don't owe us anything. If you give me the pick, I can do it."

"My other plans fell through," Daryl answered in an annoyed tone, and he walked off.

Rick didn't leave, though. He hung around for a while before eventually walking over to me. To begin with, he didn't say anything, just staring out at the city like I had been doing with Daryl.

"Are you okay?"

I shook my head. It was the only answer I could really give at that moment. Rick seemed to understand and didn't push for a different reply because no one was okay. Not after what happened. Not even Rick.

It made me think about what Rick was going through at that moment. He probably felt so guilty that Merle was gone, and he handcuffed him to the roof. Then he had to come back and save the camp from the sick people. When he saw the attack, he had to worry that his family may not be there when he got back.

As upset as I was, I didn't want to sit around and do nothing. "Do you need any help?"

"No, no," he shook his head. "Maybe you should try and get some rest. We have to start moving the bodies. You don't want to see this."

I wholeheartedly agreed. As much as I didn't want to be alone at that moment, I wouldn't want to see them destroying all those dead things' brains. No one would sit around and make sure I was okay; I would have to work through that alone and leave the adults alone. I wasn't the only one that suffered tonight.

Whether I would actually be able to sleep after all that happened is another thing. Instead of saying anything, I nodded and turned to my tent. If I spoke, I would be crying again. Rick understood and just stepped to the side, letting me pass so I could walk into camp and over to my tent.


I spent the rest of the night in my tent, unable to sleep. The thought of more dead things coming back plagued my thoughts. My tent was close enough to the middle of the camp, close enough to the group, that I felt safe enough to stay in my tent. I could hear the group talking, walking around.

The adults were taking laps around the camp to make sure none of the sick people—dead people—came back. I didn't know what to call them anymore. They weren't people like I initially thought; they weren't sick. They were dead. I heard Rick calling them walkers before, a good name as any.

Things wasn't cutting it anymore.

I found out later in the night about some of the people that had died, some kids and people I had seen around camp. Along with Amy, Ed was also attacked by walkers in his tent. I was sad for Carol and Sophia; as awful as he was, they loved him.

The women with kids stayed in the motorhome that night. Carl asked me to join him before I went to my tent, but I was barely functional after the attack. I needed time to continue my panic attack in private. None of the kids needed to see me have a meltdown.

I stayed in my tent until most of the bodies were cleared away. As much as I wanted to be with the group, the sight of the corpses made me sick to my bones. When I finally left the tent, I saw everyone sitting on the chairs, looking at Andrea. She was still kneeling over her sister.

Over Amy . . .

I couldn't believe she was gone; it all happened so fast. Even worse, everyone was worried about what would happen now she was infected. The cycle now seemed obvious: you get bit, you die, you come back.

Nobody knew how long it would be before she came back, though. All they could do was wait around for it to happen and pray that they could get Andrea to safety in time. I had to turn my head away. Amy was always nice to me, and I couldn't keep looking at her without my eyes welling up with tears.

Rick walked past me and over to the group of people, so I followed him. He stood next to Shane, glancing over at Andrea. Lori tapped the seat next to her for me to sit down, and when I did, she placed her hand on my back.

"She still won't move?" Rick questioned, glancing over at Andrea.

"She won't even talk to us. She's been there all night," Lori said, moving her hand, so she was resting her elbows on her knees. "What do we do?"

"Can't just leave Amy like that," Shane rubbed the back of his neck. "We need to deal with it the same as the others."

Rick nodded. "I'll tell her how it is."

He tried to approach Andrea and called out her name as he got closer. Before he could say anything else, Andrea pulled her gun out and aimed it at him. I gasped, straightening up and watching the two of them. She muttered something that I couldn't hear before Rick raised his hands and slowly backed up.

Lori stood beside me, keeping her eyes on Andrea as Rick edged away. Andrea lowered her gun when Rick was far enough away, nearer to the group. She placed it on the ground next to her and turned to look back at Amy. I could see Shane out of the corner of my eye. He calmed down a little when she put the gun down, his chest flattening as he released the air he'd been holding in.

"The hell," Daryl walked over to the group, holding a metal pickaxe. The one he was talking about the night before and was using to destroy the walkers' brains. "She's still there?"

Shane shook his head. "There's nothing we can do about it."

"The hell there isn't," Daryl scoffed.

Nobody answered him, all of them keeping their heads down. Andrea not letting them take care of Amy was an obvious problem, but there was nothing they could do. She just pointed a gun at Rick. There was no way they could get Amy.

Daryl continued his rant. "Y'all can't be serious. Let that girl hamstring us? The dead girl's a time bomb."

"What do you suggest?" Rick was already fed up with his attitude.

"Take the shot," Daryl raised his hands and pointed his fingers at his own head like a gun. "Clean, in the brain from here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."

I disagreed with the idea that Andrea needed to grieve. But when Amy could come back at any moment and kill her, it was a different story.

"No," Lori sat back down, her voice low. "For God's sakes, let her be."

Daryl stared at them all for a second, the anger still clearly shown in his eyes. He jostled on his feet like he would continue arguing but instead just let it go. I watched him storm away, patting Jim on the back as he passed to help Morales. My gaze moved to the floor as I watched them drag one of the bodies towards the fire.

Glenn caught my attention when he started yelling at them. "What are you doing? Our people go in that row over there."

Daryl muttered a response as he continued heaving the body.

"Our people go in that row over there," Glenn sounded more emotional as he spoke. More devastated. Morales stopped, which caused a begrudged Daryl to stop beside him. "We don't burn them! We bury them. . ."

Daryl stared at him for a moment, his eyes squinting. Instead of being intimidated like Glenn normally would, he pointed over to the caravan again, showing where they had been lining up members of our camp. Unwillingly, Daryl helped Morales drag the body.

Rick and Dale were watching them, and when Daryl and Morales finally decided to listen to Glenn, they moved away from us to go and help with some more of the bodies.

"This is what y'all get!" Daryl yelled when they had finished moving the corpse, his voice carried around the camp.

"Shut up, man!" Morales argued.

"Left my brother for dead!" He exclaimed. "You had this coming!"

I looked back down at the floor in front of me.

Lori let out an annoyed sigh when he finished yelling before standing up and leaving me to sit alone. "I'm going to check on Carl."

Shane gave a nod. "Okay."

When Lori was gone, Shane sat down next to me. He was quiet, watching Daryl, who had finished shouting, frustrated and annoyed. His face softened when he looked over at me.

"Did you get any sleep last night? You look exhausted," Shane was looking at me. I shook my head in response, involuntarily rubbing my eyes at the thought of being tired. "There's nothing for you to do right now. Why don't you go get some rest?"

"I can't sleep."

He nodded understandingly. "I get that."

No one was able to sleep the day before. All the grownups worked through the night to ensure no walker would come back. I couldn't complain about not getting sleep because I was no different from anyone else. At least I spent the night in my tent while everyone was out here working.

Shane went to say something else but got interrupted when Jacqui started yelling. "A walker got him! A walker bit Jim!"

Shane stood up immediately, and I did too. Jim was shaking his head, holding his hands up in defence. He walked away from Jacqui, who was pointing and yelling at him.

"I'm okay! I'm okay!"

Daryl stormed over, pointing his finger at him. "Show it to us. Show it to us."

"Easy, Jim," Shane said.

Jim looked around before taking the shovel on the ground next to him. He held it up and pointed it out to Shane, Daryl and Rick, who edged closer step by step. I didn't move from my spot, not wanting to get in the middle of their fight.

"Jim, put it down," Shane says, cautiously stepping forward. "Put it down."

He kept taking steps back away from Shane until T-Dog ran up behind him and grabbed him by his arms. The shovel fell to the ground with a loud clang as T-Dog held Jim in his place.

"I'm okay!" Jim insisted, his voice getting weaker and weaker and weaker the more he tried to convince anyone. "I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay."

Daryl ran over and lifted Jim's shirt, revealing a deep bite mark on his stomach. My hands flew up to cover my mouth, and I looked away.

"I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay."


The kids left the RV when they moved Jim inside, and Lori sent them to her own tent with all the bodies still around. I went with them because Lori asked me to watch them for a little while.

It was a change from when I usually watched them. Nobody spoke. Nobody asked to play a game. They just sat there quietly. Carl grabbed one of his comics from under the camping bed, but he didn't say anything. After a while, Carl closed the book but left it in his lap.

"Is Jim bit?" He questioned.

I didn't know what to answer. "Um . . . Yeah. But, the group is trying to see if they can help him."

The kids glanced down with saddened looks.

"Sorry," I whispered.

"Is he going to turn?" Louis asked.

"I. . ." Again, I didn't want to answer. "Can we talk about something else?"

Nobody said anything.

We sat in Lori's tent for almost an hour while the adults talked. After a while, footsteps came from outside the tent. Lori ducked under the door.

"Come on, kids. We're having the funeral," they pushed themselves to their feet and followed Lori out of the tent. I walked by her side. "Thanks for watching them."

I nodded. "No problem."

When we peaked on the hill, I noticed that Daryl was using his pickup to bring up all the bodies for the funeral. He was standing by the truck's bonnet, already yelling before anything had even begun.

We all walked up the hill behind the car. I heard what Daryl said as we neared, "—chinaman gets all emotional, says it's not the thing to do, we just follow him along?"

Neither of them answered him.

"These people need to know who the hell's in charge here," Daryl continued. "What the rules are."

"There are no rules," Rick answered.

"Well, that's a problem," Lori stated. "We haven't had one minute to hold onto anything of our old selves. We need time to mourn, and we need to bury our dead. It's what people do."

Nobody spoke back.

Daryl only nodded in return, moving around to the back of the pickup.


The sky turned orange as the sunset. Nobody spoke to one another; the weight of the losses had grasped at everyone's throats, and they seemed too exhausted to react. Everyone sat around, waiting for the next move to be decided. They were planning to leave the quarry, but the where was still to be determined.

The thought of leaving kept me thinking about my dad. I had never seen walkers attacking anyone before last night, and I didn't realise they were that dangerous. When we spoke over the radio, my dad said he was surrounded by them. That there were lots of them. He also said that his leg was hurt, which meant escaping would be even more difficult.

He isn't dead! The thought cut through like a knife. He can't be dead. Since the funeral, the thought had crossed my mind, but I would never allow myself to admit it. I made myself keep hope; besides, he could have made it to the house by now. He could be waiting there for me.

If his leg was still hurt, he might not be able to get to the camp without finding a car, and there were none in the town when I looked. There were no vehicles at all. Everyone had taken them when they fled to Atlanta.

One thing I thought of was asking Shane if he would take me back to the house to see if my dad was there. I had to think about it for a little while. Part of me doubted that he would even agree to that because he wanted to abandon the group in Atlanta; he wouldn't leave the camp to put up warning signs around Atlanta. Who's to say that my dad would be any different from Shane.

On the other hand, asking Shane would be my one chance to see if my dad was back at the house because if we left the quarry, I might never see my dad again. I wished that I could have stayed back at the house, I never wanted to join the camp, and I didn't want to leave with the group. I just wanted my dad back. But I knew that the group would never let me do that.

I had to ask.

Back from their patrol around the forest, Rick and Shane were leaning against the broken, red Dodge Chaser that Glenn brought to camp. They weren't speaking, just overlooking the rest of camp, giving the occasional glance to the woods to make sure no walkers would sneak up on anyone.

"Can I talk to you?" Standing up a little straighter, Shane gave a quick shrug of his shoulders in agreement. Rick looked over, also interested in what I wanted to say. "I want to go back to the house."

After seeing Shane's expression, I knew it was a big ask, but I didn't care. This was the best opportunity I had to find my dad again.

Rick drew his eyebrows together. "House?"

Shane exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "The house where Glenn found her a couple weeks back. Her dad got injured on a run, so we left him some when he got back supplies and a note saying where we were."

Rick's face immediately softened. He didn't know about my dad, that I was alone here. This was the first he had heard of this, and I could tell that he really wanted to help me. He travelled so far just to find Carl, so if anyone was going to understand, it would be Rick.

"My dad said he hurt his leg, and the radio broke. I need to know if he made it to the house," neither of them spoke or interrupted me; they just listened quietly. "Please, I need to know."

Shane went quiet, thinking the idea over. Part of me assumed he would say no immediately, with how he acted about going back to Atlanta. But the house was closer than Atlanta was and safer.

Rick seemed more open to the idea. He glanced down at the ground with almost a pained look, mulling it over in his head. After a moment of silence, he was the next to speak up. "How far away is it?"

I glanced at Shane, but I knew he wouldn't answer. He already seemed against the idea. "I think it was twenty minutes, maybe a little more. I could ask Glenn."

Rick turned to look at Shane. "I could take her; we would be back before it gets dark."

"You should be here with your family," Shane answered, shaking his head. "And we still need to make some sound traps for the camp. After last night we can't take any more risks."

"What about in the morning?" Rick questioned.

"That's what I was thinking," Shane answered. "I'll go; I know where it is."

A smile crept its way onto my face, and I jumped up and down with excitement. "Thank you, thank you!"

"Okay now," Shane chuckled. "Go join everyone else now. Got some things to say."

I nodded. I noticed that everyone was sitting around one of the fires, so I walked over to join them. I knew that they would be giving the plans for where we were going in the next few days, and I knew I needed to hear this. I sat down in a free camping chair.

Shane walked over, standing in front of everyone, and Rick was standing behind him. "I've been, uh. . . I've been thinking about Rick's plan. Now look, there are no. . . There are no guarantees either way. I'll be the first one to admit that. I've known this man a long time; I trust his instincts. I say the most important thing here is we need to stay together," Shane paused and looked around at everyone's faces. "So those of you that agree, we leave the day after tomorrow. It'll give us some time to get things together and ready."

Rick looked happy, and I assume that we were following his plan to go to the CDC. Everyone else was quiet, not answering Shane when he finished speaking. I wondered why he would want to go anywhere. Shane seemed so adamant that the military would be coming to save us.


I woke up early the following day for what felt like the first time in weeks. In all fairness, it probably was. My old sleep schedule I had trained into myself for school was all but ruined at this point.

The next day, the group was going to leave for the C.D.C., so I quickly packed my belongings into my bag and folded up the blankets inside the tent. I grabbed my bag off the ground and walked towards where the vehicles were.

Shane was leaning on one of the chairs, looking through a duffle bag. His shotgun was on the bonnet of the car in front of him. It was safe the last time we were in the town, but we had no idea what was there now. As much as I hated him bringing a gun, I knew it was necessary.

Shane looked up when he heard me. "Hey, are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," I nodded, pulling the second strap of my bag over my shoulder.

The ride was quiet.

I tried my best to keep in mind that he may not actually be at the house, knowing that I would be crushed if I got there and he wasn't. It was hard, though. It seemed more likely for him to be waiting at the house where we were for his leg to heal.

Shane didn't say anything either. I could tell he didn't want to bring me back here. He only did it because Rick got involved. That much was clear to me. I was just glad that he was letting me come back here.

When we arrived, Shane reached back over the seats and grabbed his shotgun. I wanted to tell him that there wouldn't be any walkers inside because he had locked the door when we left, but instead, he just looked at me.

"You got the keys?"

I nodded and reached into the yellow bag to grab the keys. I handed them to Shane, and he got out of the car. I followed him to the front door of the house. Shane quickly unlocked the door and entered the house first, his shotgun raised.

I followed behind him and waited near the door for him to give the all-clear. Instead of telling me the house was empty, he looked back at me with a saddened expression, shaking his head.

"Stop," I walked past him, but Shane's hand gripped my shoulder. "He hasn't been here."

Ignoring him, I walked further into the house. I made a beeline for the coffee table where I left the note for my dad. It was still there, untouched. My heart tightened in my chest, and my hands covered my face.

He hasn't been here.

I heard Shane's footsteps nearing me, but I kept my eyes down on the note. "I'm sorry."

Again, I ignored him. I couldn't find my voice, couldn't say anything at the time, but Shane didn't push. I was surprised that I didn't cry. I had built up this story in my head that my dad was waiting here until his leg was better before coming to camp. But he wasn't here. I couldn't look at Shane.

"We can stay a little longer," Shane said, cutting through my thoughts. "If you'd like."

I only nodded.

It dawned on me that I may never actually see my dad again. I forced myself to believe that he was alive, but the group wanted to leave Atlanta camp. If the C.D.C. didn't work out, we would probably be heading to Fort Benning. There was no way that I would be able to leave any more notes because I didn't know where the group would be in a day, let alone a week. It just wasn't feasible.

When I managed to pull my eyes away from the note, I noticed that Shane was perched on the arm of a sofa out the corner of my eye. He was looking at me, waiting for me to say or do something, but I kept silent.

We stayed for almost an hour before Shane said it was time to leave. I wanted to argue, yell and scream at him to let me stay. I had no reason to be angry with Shane, but I was. He only tried helping me when it came to my dad, but whatever we did wasn't enough.

And now, I was stuck with a group of people I barely knew, going across a country that I was unfamiliar with. I couldn't say anything. I had no concept of the geography around here. I quietly followed Shane back to the car and climbed in without a word.

When we returned to camp, Rick was packing up one of the cars for things that we could take when we left camp the next day, but he turned around when he heard our arrival.

"How was it?" he asked.

I walked past him, leaving him standing with Shane.


I know it's been a while, but the chapter is finally out. I have two exams left, so hopefully I can get back on track, but we'll see how that goes. Let me know what you think and leave any comments, I always enjoy reading them.

Thank you for reading and I'll see you in the next chapter.