I joined Rick for a cup of coffee after my shower and my previous small moment of self-centeredness. There wasn't much to say, really. Although, it would have been nice to talk. I just couldn't think of anything to say.

I was never good with silence, so I decided to try to get to know him better, "Tell me your story, Rick. Where were you when the outbreak hit?" This was a hit or miss question, you never wanna accidentally strike a nerve this early.

He didn't say much, in fact he didn't even reply. He just kept cleaning his gun as if he didn't even hear my question, so that was my cue that the topic was off limits. I couldn't be too offended, I would probably clam up if anyone asked how I ended up in this police station alone.

"I woke up in a hospital," he began, "I was in a coma for some time." I almost envied the fact that he didn't have to go through the first month of the outbreak. But how the hell did he even survive-

"Why were you in the hospital?" Word vomit, damn it Isabelle, just let him tell the story.

"I was shot in the line of duty."

"Oh." I mean, what else was I supposed to say? I can't say I envy him anymore. I continued my line of questioning, "..what happened when you woke up?"

"The door to my room was barricaded," he started to rub at his chest, where I assumed he was shot, "Whole hospital was empty, it was so...strange, like something you'd see in those horror movies." He paused and sighed before continuing, "I made my way to the hallway and the doors were barricaded too, with a message of 'don't open, dead inside.'"

Yikes.

"I made my way home, I saw this...thing in the grass. Half her body was missing and she just kept crawling towards me, I'd never seen anything like it."

He continued, "I wasn't too surprised that my place had been broken into, I mean the whole neighborhood was basically up in flames. So I left to see if I can find anyone else. I was going around the neighborhood and last thing I remember was getting hit over the head by some kid..."

"Some kid? Just walking around?" I interrupted in disbelief. Who the hell would let their kids outside in all of this?

"Yeah. He must've mistook me for one of those walkers, and I woke up tied to a bed. The father, Morgan, was checking me for bites. Him and his son Duane eventually apologized for whacking me upside the head. They told me their story just like how I'm telling you mine. We both had the same goals, so I brought both of them here and we raided the armory."

"Where are they now?" I could tell that other people were here recently, since I saw some men's clothes near the showers.

"We parted ways, Morgan had...things to attend to and I'm looking for my family. I gave him some of my guns and he took one of the trucks and left." He leaned back in his seat to put his gun back together, so I assumed that he'd said all that he wanted to say, I definitely could tell there was more to the story, but it wasn't my right to butt in to his business.

He kept mentioning his family but didn't get too specific, no mention of wife or kids. I don't know what compelled me to ask but I guess I was just curious. "Family? You mean like wife and kids?"

Rick stopped re-assembling his gun and looked back up at me, almost like he was trying to figure out how much he wanted to tell me, that or he was gonna tell me to fuck off and mind my business. "It's ah, complicated. But more or less my wife and son." More or less? I wanted to keep prying, but I'd only known him for an hour or so.

I gave a small chuckle, "Ah the classic 'it's complicated answer'." He wasn't used to my sense of humor so I added, "I'm kidding, Rick. It's none of my business anyways, I was just wondering."

He shrugged before resuming his work, not really much a man of words. That or I asked too much too early.

I thought the conversation was over and we were going to get ready to leave. That is, until he asked me the same thing.

I'll admit, I was caught off guard. I thought I already hinted that my story wasn't something I wanted to talk about.

I felt like a hypocrite since I tried prying into his personal life, but my body just wouldn't let me reply. I could feel my chest tighten and my palms getting sweaty just from hearing that question.

Is this what a panic attack feels like?

I could feel my muscles in my jaw tighten as I tried to pull myself together. Fortunately I didn't need to answer as Rick interrupted my thoughts by leaning forward and putting his hand on my shoulder. I felt sick to my stomach still, and I still couldn't look at him. "You don't have to talk about it, Isabelle." He assured me.

I gave brief eye contact and tried my best to give a smile, it was a pathetic smile, but it was enough for him to back off from the subject.

"I'm gonna go get my things so we can leave." I said sternly as I brushed his hand off my shoulder. I don't know what the hell happened back there, but I really want to make sure it doesn't happen again. Last thing I want is Rick thinking something's wrong with me and him changing his mind about letting me go with him. I know I wouldn't make it on my own. I've been extraordinarily lucky to have made it this far, but we all know that that will run out eventually.

I made my way to the locker room to make sure I had all my belongings. Extra clothes. Check. First aid kit. Check. Food. None, well that's awesome, at least I have some water. Let's see what else I have...pain pills, dirty clothes that I need to wash later, some soap and shampoo, and a pack of cigarettes with a lighter inside. Never really was a smoker before all of this too (only when drinking like everyone else says), but I figured fuck it. That and I could probably use them to barter since cash was essentially worthless now.

I fumbled with the pack of cigarettes, curious as to how people could stand to smoke these things. I pulled one cigarette out and rolled it between my fingers, an odd habit of mine when I get nervous. I felt like I was forgetting something, and there was no way in hell I or Rick would want to come back if I left something. I'd already made myself look unstable...

Perhaps I could leave a note to keep my mind off things, in case someone were to happen upon this abandoned place. I tried my best to stay quiet while rummaging through the lockers, hoping to find some paper and a pen, hell even find more supplies.

First couple of lockers were...well locked, and the ones that were unlocked only had badges and uniforms. I'm pretty sure Rick had already gone through these then..

I finally found a notepad and some pens and sat down to start writing a note, unsure of what to say. So I just scribbled some stuff:

No guns or food left, by the time you get this the generator will probably be dead. I'm sorry.

Good luck

I erased the "I'm sorry" part numerous times, was I supposed to feel sorry? Rick and I need to survive too, which is why he took all the guns. Or am I apologizing for the fact that they have to live in this world?

I wasn't in the mood to think too much so I just kept it there and attached the note to a bench. I silently hoped to myself that no one would stumble upon it, simply because sooner or later this place will be crawling with walkers. Which reminded me that I should be getting my shit and leaving.

I went around the locker room once more to make sure I hadn't left anything behind, then checked my bag one last time.

I just realized I didn't have a weapon. I should probably get one from Rick, if he even trusts me with one.

Speaking of Rick, he was standing in the doorway staring at me.

"Hey, I'm almost ready to go. I just realized I needed something..." Hope he's not in a huge rush.

Rick must've read my mind about the guns or something, since he reached into the duffel bag and handed me a handgun. I smiled in response, "Thanks." I felt awkward, but grateful that he trusted me with a gun.

He looked as uncomfortable as I did, "You okay, Isabelle?"

I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

I could tell he didn't want to say it, but I couldn't blame him really. I would want to make sure the person I'm surviving with was mentally stable and wouldn't break down and try to kill me or even eat m-

"I'm just checking with ya." He gave me his million dollar smile and reached his hand out to help me get up off the ground. How did I just notice that now?

Stop it, he has a wife.


We were fortunate that there weren't any walkers in the vicinity, which was almost scary. Not that I was complaining, since I made my way here and have been surviving before without a weapon. It was nice for it to be finally quiet, but this was a little suspicious.

I heard some footsteps behind a metal fence, so I quickly ducked and turned around to give Rick, who was across the parking lot, a "shh!" sound. He may be a sheriff, but I have more experience with the walkers than him.

I pulled the handgun out and walked slowly to the gate, making sure not to make any more noise. I know I was trained to keep a cool head, but that didn't mean it was easy. And I never was a fast learner.

As soon as I stepped forward, a walker grabbed my legs and threw me off balance, knocking me down and the gun out of my hands. I turned on my stomach to try to reach my gun, but it was a good ten feet or so away from me. I could hear the walker gurgle behind me and it was working to make me its next meal.

Fuck fuck fuck. And I couldn't have Rick shooting it, I didn't want to risk any more walkers hearing the gunshot.

I heard him cock his gun and out of the corner of my eye I saw him about to shoot, "Don't shoot!" I pleaded desperately, only for the walker to growl and hiss at me while reaching for my ankles.

I kicked it in the face multiple times to shut it up, and then ran to get my gun. I couldn't wait to finish that damn thing. I turned only to see Rick shoot it in the head, with its brains splattering out the back of its head and onto the sidewalk. I've been out here a month but seeing that still makes my stomach turn.

I kicked the limp body to make sure it was dead. Since it stopped moving, I reached into its pockets and pulled out the wallet, a habit I developed. I'd always been curious as to who they were before they became this way. I felt in a way that it would keep you human, since these walkers were people before. Maybe that line of thinking will get me killed one day, because at the same time if you're in a life or death situation, you can't get distracted by that.

Rick rushed over, grabbing both my shoulders and looked me in the eyes, "Christ Isabelle that was too close! Are you okay? Did you get bit?"

I hate that I was distracted by the color of his eyes. I didn't know what to say, I was so dumbfounded, "You took my kill!" was all that I could think of. Did I mention that I'm competitive?

I got a genuine laugh in response, it was nice.


We ended up going to Rick's neighborhood to see if there were any signs of where his family went. It felt eerie being there - just a depressing scene really. Everywhere I looked had cars broken into, several decomposing bodies in the street whose smell I could never become used to, and raided houses. It was a little too familiar, but I pushed those thoughts out of my head.

On the way to Rick's home, he told me some more about his family, especially his son, Carl. He was light on the details about his wife, Lori, it sounded like there was something odd there but it wasn't my business to pry. He even opened up about his best friend Shane, who he thought might have helped his family evacuate in the first place.

Something was wrong with this house, I could tell. All the pictures were missing.

"Rick," I called his name from the hallway, and I didn't expect a response. I walked over to the living room, where he was sitting with his face dug into his palms. He looked defeated, and I stood there like an idiot, unsure of what to do. How are you supposed to comfort someone you've only known for a couple of hours? Especially about their missing wife and kid?

"Rick," I said in a soft voice, "Did you see that all of the photos are missing? Your wife and son probably made it out. If she's like me and every other woman, that would have been one of her priorities when evacuating."

"No...pictures?" He started, I was scared for a moment, I was scared he'd be annoyed at me for wasting his time with my insignificant findings.

I followed him to his home's assumed main room, wondering what else he was going to do. The pictures missing told us that they had time to leave, but didn't help much in terms of giving us a direction of where they went.

Something else also felt a little off about the home. It was a mess for sure, since it'd probably been burglarized several times over, but there was something I couldn't put my finger on.

I realized that Rick was just sitting on his bed, with the same look he had from before. I took a seat next to him on the springy bed, I was never good at comforting, but hey I was trying my damn best. "Rick, I'm sure Shane is taking damn good care of Lori and Carl, he would never let you down or put them in harm's way."

I put my arm around him and pulled him closer, I don't know why either. It felt right. He tensed a bit at first, but relaxed and we stayed like that for a little bit, it was different to say the least.

"I just wish they left a note." He mumbled.

"They were probably in a rush to get out of here," I replied quietly, I didn't want to ruin this tranquil moment. "They're probably safe. We'll find them soon." I didn't know how accurate that last statement was but damn if I wasn't going to try.

He sighed and got up without looking back, I admit I felt a little hurt but I thought nothing of it. We're still strangers trying to survive, nothing more, nothing less.

I placed the frames delicately on the dresser and met him at the doorway, where he was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. I really hope he believed what I told him.

I was expecting just a quick "thanks" with his lovely accent...why did I just say that? I meant with his normal and average accent. Nothing special to it. Just a regular old accent that anyone would have. I can't let myself get caught up in his looks, which happened to be very nice and-

He interrupted my thoughts, "Yeah you're right. They're probably fine." He shook his head, "I appreciate you looking with me."

"No problem, should we be going now?"

He walked to the bedroom window and checked outside for any walkers, "Yeah, I think we should head out to Atlanta. That'll be our best chance for an evacuation."

I nodded my head and followed him out of the house, but stopped to look at the house across the street. It looked all too familiar, it couldn't be.

I quickly made my way across the street, ignoring Rick's confused glance. I started to knock on the door, hoping she was alive and would answer. No response.

I turned the knob only to feel a firm grip on my shoulder, "What are you doing? You don't know what's inside!" Rick whispered in an alert tone, while trying to prevent me from entering.

What was I supposed to tell him? I couldn't even remember the house too well myself, but I felt obligated to enter.

"You don't have to follow me, I just...I just need closure." I turned my back to him and slowly entered the dark house, with him trailing behind.