"I am prepared for the worst, but hope for the best." – Benjamin Disraeli

It was silent inside the car.

Carol had both hands on the wheel and kept her eyes forward on the road while Georgie watched the trees pass by in a blur of different shades of green. For a few moments Georgie was almost able to forget where she was; that she was living in a post-apocalyptic world. She found herself nearly lifting her hand to turn on the radio for some music before snapping out of it and remembering there were no radio broadcasts anymore. Oh, how she missed music; how she missed messing around in her garage workshop with the volume on her radio up at full blast so she could hear the music playing over the sound of a circular saw cutting into pieces of scrap metal. Who would've thought silence was truly more deafening than actual sound?

After only twenty or thirty minutes into her road trip with Carol, Georgie turned to the older woman. "Where are you headed?"

"Don't know."

Georgie looked forward at the road and smirked.

"Where were you headed?" Carol asked.

Out the corner of her eye, Georgie could tell Carol had glanced briefly over at her when she spoke. "Not sure," she replied. "Where are you coming from?"

"Are we talking spiritually or physically?"

Georgie looked back at Carol and saw a faint smirk on her lips. "Recently," she clarified. "It doesn't matter where we came from before all this. I know why I was alone on this road before you showed up, but why are you alone? How long have you been alone?"

"I was with people, good people, but I did something which was terrible, though I'm not ashamed in having done it. I did it to protect the others. At least I had hoped it was." Carol shrugged. "I meant well." She fell silent again for a few moments and Georgie didn't say anything to contribute to the silence for the sake of filler. Then, "It was just time for me to move on, I suppose."

"When was this? I mean, when did you leave your people?"

Carol looked at Georgie and appeared almost sheepish. "An hour ago?"

Georgie was looking back while Carol kept looking back and forth between her and the road. "An hour? You only picked me up off the road about a half hour ago," she remarked, incredulously, but with a laugh. She knew the time frame simply because of the small luxury that the car's digital clock still worked. "So, you left a half hour before you saw me?"

Carol nodded. "Pretty much," she muttered, just as they passed two ramblers on the road; one of whom Carol clipped with the passenger side headlight.

Georgie turned briefly to look back at said rambler who had subsequently lost their footing and fallen back down the short incline on the side of the road. Turning back forward, she couldn't help but smirk in regard to what Carol had said. "An hour," she repeated. "And you even have a car and supplies and weapons. I can't remember the last time I had this much with me."

Her own smirk fading, Carol tightened her grip on the steering wheel. "The decision for me to leave wasn't mine, but I didn't fight it."

Both fell silent again, continuing on that way for another five or so minutes. The scenery around them soon changed. Tree coverage became sparse as homes and a variety of business began to appear. They were nearing upon an abandoned town, a name they had not seen a sign for, not that it mattered anyway. As Carol slowed the speed of the car down to a crawl, the two women began to inspect the area around them. There didn't seem to be any ramblers around, at least not that Georgie had seen, so that was a good thing.

"We looking for shelter for the night, yeah?" she asked.

"Yep," Carol replied.

Georgie pointed to a brick building on a corner. "It's a law office. I doubt any people or ramblers would be in there."

"Ramblers?" Carol asked, as she brought the car to a stop. She peered at the front of the edifice and then at Georgie. "You call them ramblers?" It was more a question of amusement.

"Yeah, because they ramble on." Georgie shrugged. "I've been with people that called them different things; deadheads, biters, rotters. You call them walkers, right?"

"Because they walk around," Carol quipped.

They both looked back at the building and Georgie gestured behind her with her thumb. "I noticed a small road or back alley behind the building. We can leave the car back there for the night in case any people come along and think to take it. They might not see it if they're just passing through. And, no doubt, a corner lot like this will have at least one more exit, possibly in the back with access to the alley. If we need to leave in a hurry, if someone comes in the front, we'll have the back which will be closer to the car."

"You had to do this before?"

Georgie shrugged. "Who hasn't these days?" she remarked. "If you don't have contingency plans, you might as well as throw your hands up and give up now."

Carol smiled politely. "Let's just leave the car here for now and check the place out first. If it really is okay inside, I'll come back out and park the car in the rear."

"Sounds like a plan," Georgie nodded.

Quietly, both women opened their doors and got out of the car, gripping their respective weapons as they neared the law office's front entrance. Georgie left her handgun holstered in her back pocket and instead took her knife out while Carol had a small revolver. Carol opened the door rather casually with her revolver aimed down at her side. Her approach inside was more guarded as she looked around for signs of unlife. Georgie slipped in quietly behind her, gripping the handle of her knife a lot tighter in her hand, prepared to use it at any moment should the occasion arise. Her eyes, too, scanned the interior as Carol lifted up a tin pen holder on the desk at their left and gave it a shake.

Pausing a few moments, both women waited to see if there was a response in the form of walkers coming out of the woodwork, so to speak. However, there was nothing. After going around the office, into every room, upstairs and down, they determined the coast was clear and Carol went back outside to pull the car around to the alley out back. It took less than five minutes and Carol was back inside and pushing the desk that had been at their left upon entering and moved it in front of the door as a barricade.

Carol caught Georgie's glance and muttered, "Better safe than sorry."

Georgie nodded and went inside the main office area where there was a blue sofa surrounded by cardboard boxes filled with forgotten paperwork and forms that were most likely very important before the outbreak. Taking a phonebook, she began to rip out the pages and then bring them with her, along with some tape she found to cover the window panes with them so no one, alive or dead, could see inside the downstairs windows. Carol followed suit and took some of the pages to take care of the windows one room over.

They worked in silence, merely stealing glances to see what the other was doing and then taking hints as to how to better the tasks at hand or contribute to doing something more to secure their shelter. They didn't know how long they would hole themselves up in the law office but they were going to take the steps to make it safe and comfortable. The fact that there was a sofa was a bonus. They would have something comfortable to sleep on. However, there was just the one, so they agreed they would switch on and off, taking turns; while one slept, the other would keep guard.

As the evening progressed, Carol had brought a recycling box into the room with the sofa and dumped out its contents which seemed to be primarily empty water bottles. There was a small, two piece bathroom with a toilet and sink; the latter they attempted to turn on to fill the bottles with water. However, no water came out. It must've been shut off for this area which, obviously, sucked. There was, fortunately, clean water in the toilet bowl, but they weren't too desperate to use that for drinking water just yet. Carol still had some supplies in the car, stealing out the back door into the alley to bring one water bottle and one canned good for each of them back inside.

Carol held both cans up. "You've gone the longest without eating," she remarked. "You pick which one you want."

The choices were green beans or carrots, neither ever having been her favorite foods, but in times like these, they were practically top cuisine to her. "The beans," she decided, taking the can. "Thanks."

Using her hunting knife, Georgie punctured a hole into the top of the can and cut into the lid enough to pry it back so that she could stick her hand in without cutting herself on the sharp, thin edge. She then did the same for Carol before passing it back to her.

Just as they had when they made the office safe and secure, the women ate in silence. It felt utterly amazing to Georgie to finally have actual food in her stomach again. It churned in delight as she practically inhaled the contents of the can. She barely tasted anything. All that mattered was the sustenance and quenching those extreme hunger pains. Carol gave Georgie her water bottle, so that Georgie now had two.

"I drank earlier today. You need it more."

Georgie was so grateful for this kindness, and yet amused by how Carol tried to pass if off as nonchalantly as possible, as if she really didn't care whether Georgie lived or died.

"Thank you, again, for all this," Georgie spoke once the food was gone and both water bottles had been emptied down her gullet. "You could've left me back on the road and you didn't. You've given me food and water. I don't know what it was you did back with your people and why they exiled you or whatever, but their loss is my gain."

"You really don't care what I did?" Carol asked, curiously, leaning back against the sofa with her legs folded, Indian-style.

Georgie shook her head. "Did you kill a child; a living one?"

"No," Carol replied.

"Then I really don't care." Georgie tilted her head back against the wall behind her. "You said you did what you did because you thought you were protecting your people. I can't find any fault in that, however way you may have gone about it."

"You're not even a bit curious what I did?"

Georgie shrugged. "Maybe a little, but I'm not going to pass judgement if you want to tell me. Hell, maybe it'll be therapeutic for you to tell me. Get it off your chest and put it behind you. The past is the past and all that."

Carol looked toward the doorway and pursed her lips in thought. Silence fell over them again, but only for a few moments. "My people and I, we've been staying at a prison not far from here. We took it, secured it, cleaned it up a bit and made it livable. We even started farming. There were pigs," she commented with a smirk on her lips. "Two of our people fell ill very suddenly, and we quarantined them. I needed to protect the others, to prevent the flu from spreading. It was a mercy kill. Early yesterday morning, while everyone slept, I killed them both," she clarified. "I stabbed them in the head and then dragged their bodies outside and burned them. I thought it would completely stop the flu from spreading since they were the only ones who had it. It turns out I was wrong. It was infectious and it spread anyway, but I did what I did and I stand by it. Karen and David, those were their names, they were going to die anyway. We didn't have the medicine. Their deaths were being dragged out."

"So, basically, you're Dr. Kevorkian," Georgie quipped. "If I am ever in the same situation as those two and you and I are still in each other's company, I give you my blessing to do the same to me. I don't want to become one of those things when my time comes. I want to die with some dignity."

"Only if you do the same for me, if we're still together and I die first."

Georgie leaned forward and offered Carol her hand. "Deal," she stated.

The older woman met her halfway and accepted her hand, shaking it. "Deal," Carol repeated.

Night had fallen and Georgie offered to take first watch. She walked around the downstairs for a few minutes, checking and rechecking that their exits and the windows were secure before heading upstairs where there was the view of the street out front and of the street on the side of the building. She hopped up onto one of the large window sills to sit and stared out the window at the street below. All was quiet, all was calm, and it was incredibly dark, with the exception of faint bit of light coming from the starry sky above. The moon barely offered any light either because it was waxing crescent, which meant it looked like a fingernail because it was going to be the first quarter moon in a few days.

It was quiet, it was calm, it was dark.

Georgie was confident that she and Carol were perfectly okay for the time being and decided a bit of sleep would be just as okay for herself, and it didn't take long to do so either. Her body was overtired anyway; not having slept a good night's sleep in probably a month.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been out, but the sound of footsteps on a creaky wooden floor stirred her awake. Her hand was on the handle of her knife and it was unsheathed in seconds as she held it out before her in the dark of the room in the direction of the doorway.

"It's just me," came Carol's voice before she stepped inside the room, rubbing her arms as she folded them across her chest. "I couldn't sleep."

Georgie ran a hand over her face and rubbed the sleep from her eyes before letting out a quiet chuckle as a thought popped into her head. "We'll sleep when we're dead."

Carol shrugged, joining Georgie at the window sill. "That's not even guaranteed anymore, unfortunately."

Both women glanced at each other as Georgie sheathed her knife. "That's what our pact downstairs was about earlier," she commented.

As they turned their focus out the window, Carol pointed in the direction across the street of the trees beyond the buildings. "The prison is in that direction," she informed. "My people are probably sleeping right now."

"Are they your people anymore?" Georgie wondered. "They made you leave."

"Our leader did," Carol clarified. "We had gone out on a supply run but I had a feeling there was more to it; why he asked me to go with him. He asked me yesterday evening if I was the one who killed Karen and David and I didn't deny it. I know he kept it to himself because no one came to me about it. I just wonder if they know now. When he returned to the prison without me, did he tell them then?"

"Couldn't you just go back, plead your case? You're not reckless, you're plenty useful in securing a place and you just seem like an all-around decent human being. These aren't the times for kicking good people to the curb," Georgie commented. She pulled one of her legs up and hugged her knee to her chest. "We're all gonna make mistakes. Ain't none of us lived in this kind of world before. We're all learning how to survive in it as we go. I mean, I could understand your group leader's decision if you had been spouting nonsense and threatening the lives of everyone else or if you killed someone because you just didn't like them or something. I assume there are children at that prison?"

"More than a few."

"That would be my first instinct," Georgie continued. "To protect them and keep them safe at all costs, before anyone or anything else. Just go back and promise you did what you did for the sake of their protection and safety."

Carol frowned. "Easier said than done," she voiced. "Karen was the girlfriend of a man named Tyreese in our group. They joined the prison relatively recent, leaving behind this fortified town called Woodbury that was ruled over by this overlord type. We brought many of those citizens back to the prison to stay with us and given them a home. Karen and Tyreese were part of those people and he loved her. When he found their bodies where I left them, he went mad with rage. I couldn't bring myself to admit then that I did it. Tyreese was so angry, he wanted blood vengeance, and I chickened out. I was content to keep what I did a secret as long as I could."

The pair fell quiet once more, both staring out the window in the direction of the prison; the silence in the air quickly enveloping them. It was almost unsettling.

"I still think you should go back to your people," Georgie insisted after a minute or two. "We need to hang on to the people we care about for as long as we can, while they're still around."

Silence again.

But in that silence, Georgie could feel Carol's eyes on her, casting sidelong glances.

"How many people have you lost?"

"Too many," Georgie replied without missing a beat.

"I don't mean just people you found and bonded with after the outbreak. Who did you lose from before all of this?"

"My parents, siblings and their families," she muttered, bringing a hand up to her face and wiping an errant tear away. "Mostly I think about losing my husband and children." She shot a look at Carol who was looking back emphatically at her. "When the outbreak went viral, my son was away from home on his first cub scout camping trip. It was this entire weekend-long ordeal and he had been so excited for it. I had to convince my husband for us to travel to the campground where Tristan, my son, was staying so we could bring him home."

"Did you?"

Georgie shook her head. "No, he wasn't there," she answered. "Fifteen boys and two scout leaders went on that trip and when we got to their campsite, there were only eleven boys and one leader, and they were all dead and turned by then. I just wanted to look further for my son, but my husband insisted we go home and wait for him there, that maybe the missing leader had gathered the other boys and was bringing them home to their families. So, we went home, and Tristan wasn't there, but we waited it out. I just…I couldn't sit still for long; the waiting and not doing anything. My husband stayed home with our daughter while I would go on supply runs, but they were just an excuse to go out looking for our boy. He didn't take too kindly to me going out like that when he found out my true motive. He told me I had to accept that Tristan was most likely dead and there was nothing we could do. He said our priority was Avery, our daughter." She looked at Carol. "But there was never a body; there was no physical proof to suggest our son was dead. For all I know he was saved and spirited away by some kind people who chose to protect him through all this. At least, that's what I hope happened."

"Your husband and daughter," Carol spoke. "They didn't make it."

It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact. Georgie was alone, so it was a valid assumption. Carol knew from firsthand experience what it felt like to lose a child; she knew the look in a person's eyes to determine how deep a loss they suffered because it was the look she saw in the mirror when she had the opportunity to glimpse her reflection.

"No," Georgie replied. "Well, no and maybe." Off Carol's questioning look, she added, "A little over a month in, we were still hunkered in and I refused to go anywhere else. I was holding out that Tristan would come home somehow. Jake, that was my husband, he kept listening to the radio; hearing about Atlanta being a safe zone. He wanted to go there, but I wouldn't budge. We got into a fight and I threw it in his face that he wasn't pulling his weight. I was the one doing runs, I was the one looking for our boy, and I was the one taking care of us; providing food to eat, fortifying our home and keeping our clothes clean. He just sat around complaining and mumbling to himself. He looked after our daughter when I was away from the house, but when I was home, that was also my job and I did it well. I always did."

"No offense," Carol remarked, "But your husband sounds like a real winner."

Georgie chuckled under her breath. "He wasn't always a prick," she insisted. "The apocalypse just brought it out in him. He wasn't built for this kind of life. The fact that he couldn't pass the time watching TV was a particularly sore subject for him."

"What did he do for a living before this?"

"He was a pediatrician, which, in hindsight, is quite ironic. He was a doctor for children, and he no longer had the bedside manner for even helping with our daughter and didn't seem to give two shits whether our son was alive or dead."

"Did he hit you or the kids?"

Georgie shook her head adamantly. "Oh God, no. If he ever attempted to lay a hand on me or our kids, he knew I would've disemboweled him on the spot. I used to work with power tools in my spare time, so I could've done some damage, creatively." She smirked at the thought and then shook it away. "After that last fight, he threw his hands up in the air and declared he was going to Atlanta without us. He didn't even attempt to take Avery with him. He grabbed a gun for protection, the keys to his truck and then went outside and drove away." She looked at Carol again. "That was the last time I saw him alive. A couple weeks later, my brother showed up. I had thought he was dead, but there was no way for me to know. He lived out of state, but had made the trip and arrived at my door and it was like a breath of fresh air, and just in the nick of time. I needed to make a supply run, and I couldn't do it with Avery and I couldn't leave her alone. I used my brother's truck for my first supply run. I found some canned goods and toilet paper at a gas station just outside town, but I also found Jake's truck abandoned on the side of the road. The door was open, the keys still in the ignition and there was blood on the door and on the ground. There were no bodies anywhere, though, so I don't know what happened. I don't know if he survived and ran off on foot or if he was ambling about in those woods across the street as a rambler…" she looked at Carol and amended her sentence, "…a walker."

Carol turned slightly and leaned her back up against the wall. Georgie hopped down from the window sill and just braced herself against it, folding her arms over her chest. She hadn't told the story of what came next to anyone except for a friend of hers she had made within her last group. The woman, Dana, had been a fellow mother, and was in the group with her children. Dana had seen the apocalypse as the perfect excuse for finally getting away from her abusive ex-husband by taking their kids and making a run for it, eventually finding themselves trapped in their car, surrounded by ramblers – walkers – when Georgie and her group descended upon them during a supply run and helped.

"My last full day in my house," Georgie finally continued, after moments of silent reverie, "My brother opted to go for a supply run to basically loot neighboring houses. I was so happy to take a break from it and have someone else share the burden for once. I let him go with my hunting knife, this one," she patted her side, "and spent the next couple of hours coloring into some coloring books with my daughter and pretending the world was just fine for a little while. When my brother finally got back, he was out of breath and tired. He tossed my knife onto the kitchen table along with a bag full of supplies before saying he was going to lay down for a bit. When I asked if he was okay, he nodded and smiled and said he was just peachy. And I believed him, like an idiot."

"He was bit," Carol deduced again.

Georgie nodded. "A few hours later, after giving my daughter some dinner, I decided to put her to bed. I tucked her in and left her door open so I could hear her from downstairs in case she called to me. Then I went across the hall to my son's room where my brother was sleeping. He was breathing lightly, so I just smiled, still so thankful he was there, and I tucked him in as well. I went back downstairs and poured myself a much deserved glass of wine and just puttered around; straightening up, cleaning some dishes, but mostly walking aimlessly around. I blew out all the candles and walked over to the windows, peering out toward the street at the occasional walker shuffling on by. I was so caught up in my thoughts that when I heard my daughter scream bloody murder, I nearly jumped outta my skin and I dropped my wine glass to the floor. I didn't even think; I just ran up those stairs like a bat outta hell and that's when I found my brother, holding Avery in his hands, ripping into her neck with his teeth."

"Oh my God," Carol gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. Her brow furrowed and she reached out her free hand to Georgie's shoulder when the younger woman began to shake slightly at the retelling of her darkest hour.

"There was blood all over both of them and I was on autopilot. I grabbed Avery away and kicked what used to be my brother in the stomach; letting him stumble back enough for me to run outta the room with my daughter in my arms and close her bedroom door behind us. I ran back downstairs and just held my daughter tight, pressing my hand to the gaping wound in her neck to no avail, assuring her she was gonna be fine, but when I looked down at her little face, she was already gone. She had lost too much blood too quickly. I couldn't let go right away. I just kept rocking her, and sobbing and wishing this, everything that had happened, was just a bad dream I hadn't yet woken up from." Georgie turned around and placed her hands on the window sill, peering out toward the street again, where she noticed one, solitary walker moving along the street toward the intersection. "I laid Avery down on the couch and went to the hall closet where we kept our supply of weapons I had gathered on multiple runs. I grabbed a double-barreled shotgun and loaded it. Without thinking on it, I went back upstairs and stood outside my daughter's room. I could hear my brother banging his body against the other side of it, groaning. I cursed myself. I should've sensed he'd been bit. I should've looked him over and quarantined him away from Avery. I should've kept her downstairs with me." After a moment, she added, sadly, "She was only three years old."

"Unfortunately, we can't undo what's been done," Carol offered.

Georgie gripped the window sill tighter and her jaw clenched slightly, still angry with herself and unable to let go of the mistake she made; letting her guard down.

"I hesitated for a moment and then I kicked the door in. I heard my brother stumble back again before I saw him. When he started to come at me, I aimed the muzzle at his head and pulled the trigger without blinking. He dropped back upon Avery's little bed and I ignored the fact that my brother's brains had just painted the wall behind him. I closed the door again and went back downstairs where I stared at Avery's body for what felt like forever and I knew in my heart what I had to do. I loved my brother, but he had turned into a monster and I didn't want to see that happen to my little girl. So, I pulled my grandmother's afghan off the back of the couch and covered Avery completely with it. I had one shot left in the gun and I pressed the muzzle against Avery's forehead and after I told her I was sorry and that I loved her and to forgive me, I pulled the trigger."

Georgie closed her eyes tight, failing to get the image out of her head.

"I can't imagine how terrible that must've been." Carol shook her head slightly in sympathy. "I've lost a daughter, too. She was much older, twelve years old. My group and I, we were headed away from Atlanta, we'd just left the CDC, and we were swarmed by a herd of walkers. Two of them chased after my girl, Sophia was her name, and she ran into the woods. That was the last I saw her. Rick, our group leader, told her to hide when he'd caught up to her but when he and a few others went back, she was nowhere to be found. I was inconsolable," she explained. She had turned and was now looking out the window again as well, staring at the same lonely walker as Georgie. "There were search parties for her for days. We wound up setting up camp at a farm nearby, owned by a man by the name of Hershel Greene. There was a barn on the property which we eventually learned was filled with plenty of walkers. One of Hershel's friends had been rounding them up and storing them in there; they thought somehow there would be a way to bring those people back from being walkers." She scoffed quietly at the ridiculous notion. "We'd been to the CDC, we saw footage of what happens and how there is no coming back from it."

Listening to Carol speak this time, Georgie was able to ignore her own pain for a little while and find comfort in that; in their mutual loss of children.

"Shane, Rick's best friend, had been getting more and more short-tempered and hot-headed by that point. He wanted to go in guns a-blazing into that barn and kill all those walkers dead for good, but Hershel wouldn't allow it because his wife and stepson were in there. Shane eventually had had enough and he opened the doors to the barn and all those walkers began stumbling out. Most of the group began putting those walkers down and, when it was over, we just all stood there, trying to let it soak in. But then there was another groan from inside the barn, one last walker was still inside," Carol pursed her lips together and covered her mouth with her fingertips to keep a sob in. Like Georgie, she hadn't spoken about her child's death in a long time. Bringing it back up made it feel new again. However, she swallowed that sob down and continued on. "That's when I saw her; my little girl. She was a walker, and everyone who was so gung-ho about putting the other walkers down was suddenly struck dumb. I know a lot of them assumed Sophia was already dead, but seeing her that way was still a shock; for me, most of all, but that goes without saying. Just like how you believe your son might still be alive; there was no body up until then, so I still had hope."

"Who shot her?" Georgie asked aloud and then reeled herself back in. She hadn't meant to actually ask the question. She had been thinking it, and it just spilled out of her mouth.

"Rick," Carol answered. "He did what had to be done, and I hated him for it, even though I knew it was the right thing to do. Watching your child die, as you very well can understand, is not something a parent, a mother especially, should witness."

"No, it isn't," Georgie agreed.

Carol looked beyond the street, over the tops of the building and to the trees; in the direction of the prison yet again. "Rick has always done what needed to be done for us. He kept us together, protected us. Yeah, we've lost people here and there – it's bound to happen – but he kept us together," she repeated herself. "That's why I can't be mad at him for sending me away. He did what he believed had to be done."

The two of them became silent again, listening to the walker bump into a garbage can and knock it over. They both tensed at the same time, waiting for more walkers to hear the sound and come out of the woodwork. However, no others came. It was just the one nearby and that was a small blessing in disguise. Neither woman wanted to wake in the morning to a herd gathering outside.

"I'm sorry about Sophia," Georgie expressed, covering Carol's hand with hers.

Carol looked up at Georgie with an appreciative smile and then nodded in sympathy. "I'm sorry about Avery and your brother," she echoed. She then offered more of a pleasant smirk. "I won't say sorry about your prick of a husband or your son Tristan, because there is still a chance they are alive, and hope is a good thing to have."

"Yeah," Georgie concurred, turning away from the window. "Sometimes it's the only thing we have."