Thanks to: Blackhollyyeaah, TheRedBones, thegoulashqueen, Ilove Daryldixon, Zombiepacalypse, Guest (you reviewed anonymously), ScornedxRose and DTS Guru for your reviews. And to LadyInAzure for the review via PM! Your comments are all appreciated and inspired me to get this chapter out as soon as possible. I hope you all enjoy!
Chapter One: This is the Dead Land
When Jack had finally convinced the men that she could help them and not be an unnecessary burden on their mission, Daryl led them all off the open expanse of rooftop and back into the building. The other two men took the opportunity to fully introduce themselves to Jack as Daryl followed the blood trail of his brother Merle, the man that the group had come back to Atlanta to rescue.
This is what confused Jack. How could they have just left the man there to begin with? That seemed like a huge oversight, or a terrible sacrifice. But she got the feeling from Glenn and T-Dog's disgusted, yet guilty, expressions that it hadn't been entirely intentional, but that they also weren't too sad that Merle was no longer a part of their group. Jack had told them all that she hadn't seen a one-handed man escape from the building that day. She was pretty sure if she had seen something like that it would have stuck with her.
Jack was close behind Daryl when they entered the building, wedged almost protectively between all the men. Yet despite their obvious caution, she walked casually inside, barely bothering to check around corners or listen for the shuffling gait of the undead. She was so used to it, so immune to the initial fear she had felt when she realized she had woken up to the zombie apocalypse that she hardly noticed them anymore. Despite being ambulatory, the undead were so unlike human beings that they might have well as been pigeons for all the notice she gave them. Although, they did smell a lot worse than pigeons.
"Damn, you're cool as a cucumber, aren't you? Not at all worried about these Walker bastards." T-Dog murmured, torn between grudging respect and chastisement.
Jack shrugged, "Like I said, it isn't them I have to worry about these days."T-Dog nodded at this sagely, giving her a quick, critical once over. Jack knew exactly what he saw when he looked at her: a slip of a girl, barely 5' tall, slender as a reed, easily overpowered. Months of cancer treatments had stripped her of the muscle she had developed through high school as a cross-country runner and the little bit of weight-lifting she had done in college. Jack was aware of her physical flaws, of her diminished figure, but it didn't make her any less self-conscious about it. She crossed her arms over her small chest and focused on the walls as they stalked onward.
"Merle," Daryl yelled out when they had walked down a short flight of stairs. "You in here?"
They made their way slowly into what looked like a trashed office building. It didn't look like the sort of place that had ever been very fancy. Cheap commercial carpeting, bland walls, utilitarian furniture and sparse wall decoration. Jack thought about every mind-numbing desk job she had worked in high school and in her first two years of college before the tumor. It was in this office that they spotted the zombie—Walker, Jack thought. The woman was probably never attractive, her eyes were too close together, her features plain and unremarkable. In undeath she was even less appealing, especially with her jaw missing and the hanging, flaccid lump of her tongue flapping around where a chin should have been.
Daryl put the Walker down without a moment's hesitation. It was a quick, almost perfunctory action, as if he barely thought about doing it. Jack wasn't sure if she was impressed or repulsed by his detached efficiency. Daryl cast a quick look over his shoulder at the others before walking on. Jack stepped around the felled corpse and followed him into an adjoining room.
There were two more fallen Walkers in the next room and a bloody wrench lying abandoned on the floor. Daryl appraised the bodies and said, with some pride in his voice, "Had enough venom to take out these two sonna bitches. One handed. Toughest asshole I ever met, my brother. Feed'm a hammer, he'll crap out nails."
"Any man can pass out from blood loss," Rick said in a tone that cautioned Daryl not to set his hopes too high. "No matter how tough he is."
Daryl and Rick walked on, and the others hurried to stay in step with them. Jack and Glenn shared an uncomfortable look. The tension between Rick and Daryl was palpable. It was obvious that Rick was trying to assume the role of leader, and Daryl didn't take kindly to being dictated to. Oppositional defiance, Jack thought.
Daryl called out, "Merle!"His voice was loud, echoing off the walls.
"We're not alone here," Rick reminded him harshly.
Daryl glared at the cop. "Screw that. He could be bleedin' out, you said so yourself."
"The blood is fresh though, right?" Jack asked. Everyone turned to look at her. She was the new body in the group, and when she spoke it seemed to startle everyone.
"What about it?" Daryl asked, shifting impatiently on his feet and staring at her with narrowed eyes.
"Well, he can't have gone off too far," she said. "Even if he passed out somewhere, we should be able to find him. With a dismembered hand, I imagine he was stumbling around in a lot of pain, maybe he found somewhere to sit and rest for a minute. Clear his head."
"No point standin' around yappin'," Daryl said, taking the lead again. Jack exhaled in frustration. She had been trying to diffuse some of the tension, having never been one for confrontations, but it seemed her efforts weren't appreciated.
They moved on, filing into an office kitchen. The burners on the stove were on and there was a suspicious lump of burned matter on the stovetop that made Jack's stomach roil. There was a terrible hot smell in the air.
"What's that burned stuff?" Glenn asked, staring at the source of Jack's sudden nausea with his own look of disgust and horror.
"Skin," Rick answered, examining the burnt, melted flesh. "He cauterized the stump."
Everyone shifted uncomfortably and passed around revolted looks, except for Daryl, who was a lip twitch away from either grinning or frowning, Jack wasn't sure which. "Told you he's tough. Nobody can kill Merle but Merle."
"Don't take that on faith. He's lost a lot of blood," Rick said, and Jack wondered why he said it. Was it really necessary to keep bringing up how unlikely it was that this one-handed man, Merle, could still be out there, conscious and surviving? Was he trying to spare Daryl an eventual heartbreak, or rubbing it in?
Jack wasn't familiar enough with either of them to understand the strange dynamic between them, but she didn't think it was the latter. Rick seemed like a decent enough guy, if maybe a little self-righteous.
"Yeah? Didn't stop him from bustin' outta this death trap." Daryl had moved to the window, which was broken out. There was a gap in the ragged glass big enough for a man about Daryl's height and build to slip through, which was saying something. The redneck wasn't exceptionally tall, probably about 5' 10", but he was broad and muscular in a natural, effortless sort of way. For a handicapped man to accomplish this sort of break out was impressive.
Glenn stared at the window not with appreciation, but with annoyance and something suspiciously like worry in his eyes. "He left the building? Why the hell would he do that?"
Daryl scoffed and looked around accusingly. "Why wouldn't he? He's out there alone as far as he knows. Doin' what he's gotta do; survivin'."
T-Dog shook his head in disbelief. "You call that surviving? Just wandering through the streets, maybe passing out? What're his odds out there?"
"Doesn't seem like the guy had a lot of options," Jack said quietly. She hooked a thumb behind her to the room with the Walker corpses. "There would have been more of those things along eventually. What was he going to do, wait here and bludgeon them with a wrench as they came at him?"
Daryl ignored her defending his brother and said, "No worse'n being handcuffed and left to rot by you sorry pricks!" He went in toward Rick, everything about his body language threatening the cop to make a move. "You couldn' kill him, ain't so worried about some dumb dead bastard."
"What about a thousand dumb dead bastards? Different story?" Rick didn't back down from Daryl, which Jack thought was brave. If the angry redneck had come into her face like that she would have retreated. She didn't like the coldness in his eyes, the undisguised hatred. It made her blood turn icy in her veins despite the Georgia heat.
"Why don't you take a tally? Do what you want. I'm a go get him." Daryl moved to walk past Rick, but the cop put a hand on his chest, halting him. Jack would have sooner placed her hand into an alligator's open maw.
"Daryl, wait!"
Daryl looked furious and batted the cop's hand away. He yelled, "Get your hands off a me! You can't stop me!"
Once again, Rick didn't quail under the other man's anger and aggression. He spoke calmly, urgently, but firmly. "Look, I don't blame you. He's family. I get that. I went through hell to get back to mine. I know exactly how you feel. He can't get far with that injury, though. We could help you check a few blocks around, all keep an eye out for him, but only if we keep a level head."
Daryl appraised Rick for a moment, wary, distrusting, but without many options. Finally he said, "I can do that."
Jack released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The tension in the room seemed to dissipate a little. She wondered how much conflict this group had and whether it would really be worth it to join them. Yes, she wanted some protection. Safety in numbers. But she really hated conflict, was too much of a pacifist to be comfortable in a group that argued and railed against each other all the time. She hoped she was making the right decision by joining up with them.
Someone bumped her shoulder and she turned to see Glenn looking at her. He gave her a small encouraging smile. Perhaps he had noticed how much the arguing and the anger was getting to her, perhaps he saw her sudden indecisiveness about staying with them. In any case, Jack returned the smile appreciatively and swallowed down her doubts.
"Only way I'm going on this rescue mission is if we get those guns first," T-Dog said. He met Daryl's hard stare and continued, "I'm not strolling the streets of Atlanta with just my good intentions, okay?"
"Okay, then let's get the gun bag," Rick said. Everyone was quiet for a moment as the realization of what they would need to do settled over them. Jack looked around at all of their faces, confused.
"You have a gun bag hidden in the city?" she asked. "Where?"
"It's in the middle of a street, near a tank," Glenn said. "The whole place is crawling with Walkers."
"And you just need to get it? That's it?"
"That's it?" T-Dog repeated. "Ain't that bad enough?"
"We need those guns," Rick said. "Not just to protect ourselves from the Walkers out on the streets, but to take back to protect our group."
"The problem is getting to them," T-Dog said.
Jack smiled. "I don't see how that's going to be a problem." Everyone turned to look at her then. She pointed to herself and said, "Zombie retardant, remember? I'll just go down there, pick them up, and deliver them to you."
"You're not going out there alone," Rick said, alarmed. "Not in a street full of Walkers. Not in the middle of a city overrun with them."
"Even I think it's a bad idea, and I don't like you," Daryl said.
Jack ignored the last comment and said, "Really, I'll be safer out there in middle of a crowd of zomb—er, Walkers, than you guys are sitting right here. I'm not lying and I'm not exaggerating when I say they don't mess with me. Honestly, this will be the easiest thing I've done all day."
The men all shared a look, but no one argued any further.
The plan was simple. Glenn, Daryl and Jack would go to the alley in which Glenn had helped Rick escape from Walkers the day before. Daryl would cover the entrance to the alley with his crossbow, the quietest weapon amongst them, while Glenn waited at the fence for Jack. She would go out into the street, grab the bag and toss it over the fence to Glenn. When she was sure that she hadn't attracted the attention of any Walkers, she would slip through the fence and join them.
Rick and T-Dog would wait two blocks away in case there was no way for Jack to get back to Daryl and Glenn without Walkers following her like a trail of ducklings. They were attracted to noise and movement, and just because they wouldn't try and eat her didn't mean that they wouldn't be enticed to follow her around a little bit. Either way, she had someone to hand the bag off to. They would all meet back at the office building after the bag was picked up.
"Are you absolutely sure about this?" Glenn asked for what seemed like the hundredth time when they made it to the alley. He looked worried and skeptical and hopeful all at once.
Daryl just looked bored.
Jack gave him a reassuring smile. "You don't know me well enough to trust me on my word, but in time, you'll learn that I don't just throw myself out into danger for a bunch of whack-jobs I just met. Watch." And she slipped out the fence, pushing it back against the wall as quietly as possible.
The street was teeming with the undead. They ambled and shuffled along without any sense of direction, like litter blowing in the wind. Jack stepped out into the street. A few decayed faces turned her way, but like usual they paid her little attention. She walked slowly, though, not wanting to attract any followers.
She slid along the side of the tank, aware of Glenn and Daryl's eyes following her with awe and disbelief, respectively. The bag of guns was exactly where Rick said it would be in front of the tank. She dropped to the ground and pulled the strap over her shoulder. It was heavier than she had been expecting but not unbearable. Lying nearby was a uniform hat. It was tawny with a round brim and a center crease crown. The sort of thing a sheriff might wear, she thought and snatched it up as well.
She stood, balancing the weight of the gun bag on one shoulder and trying not to crumple the hat under her arm. The lucky thing was that burdened down with the bag, she had to move much slower so she drew less attention from the undead as she made her way back to the alley. She was nearly there, in fact, thinking everything was going down without a hitch, when she heard the screams.
"Ayudarme! Ayudarme!"
Jack swung the gate open and handed the bag of guns off to Glenn. A few feet down the alley was Daryl straddling a young man who was writhing and struggling on the ground. "What's going on?" she asked, frantically looking around to make sure no Walkers had been attracted by the sounds. When she turned around though it was to see two men rush into the alley. They went for Daryl and Glenn at first, hitting them with bats, trying to take the gun bag.
Jack wasn't sure what to do, but she knew she couldn't let them leave the alley with the guns, so, without really thinking it through, she jumped onto the back of one of the men, locking her arms around his neck in the way she had seen actors do on TV to choke someone out. Perhaps it would have been more effective if she had had some upper body strength, but as it was, all she managed to do was hold on as the guy tried to dislodge her like a bucking bronco. He slammed back into the brick wall, crushing her beneath his weight, and she finally had to let go. She hit the ground gasping for air, her lungs burning and her back aching from nape to lumbar.
An arrow whizzed through the air and made home in the buttocks of one of the men. He yelped and dropped the bag of guns. The other man grabbed hold of Glenn and started dragging him from the alley, using him like a human shield against Daryl's arrows. A car pulled to the curb and the men, with Glenn as their hostage, hoped inside and sped away.
Jack cursed and jumped to her feet as Walkers started to converge upon the alley. She made it to the fence before Daryl and pulled it firmly closed. The Walkers reached their hands out, pushing against the metal, trying to reach Daryl and the boy whose friends had left him behind.
Suddenly there were feet pounding the pavement. Rick and T-Dog had come when they heard the screams and were looking between Daryl, Jack and the kid. Daryl didn't stay still for long. He ran at the kid suddenly, ready to beat the hell out of him. Jack watched, wide-eyed, as Rick intercepted and kept Daryl off the kid.
Daryl was unaffected. He pointed at the kid and yelled, "I'm gonna kick your nuts up in your throat!"
"What happened?" Rick demanded, pushing Daryl back and demanding his attention.
Daryl made a frustrated gesture to the kid and said, "This little asshole came runnin' up, yellin'. It was a trap to get the guns. His buddies came and jumped me, took Glenn." Suddenly it seemed to be too much for him, he couldn't hold back his rage anymore. Daryl surged forward, once again held back by Rick, and pointed his finger accusingly at the kid. "I'm gonna stomp your ass!"
Rick looked to Jack, who was still a little shell shocked, and asked, "You okay?"
Wordlessly she nodded and then, of all the things she could have thought to do in that moment, reached down and picked up the hat from the ground and handed it to him. Rick took it and looked like he was about to say something else to her, but the Walkers behind them were starting to press the fence inward and it was suddenly imperative that they escape the alley.
They ran down the alley and then, when they deemed themselves a safe distance away, ducked into an abandoned building. The kid was forced into a chair while T-Dog and Rick made sure the room was secure. Daryl, on the other hand, was busy interrogating the kid.
"Where's my brother?" he yelled, grabbing the kid by the collar of his shirt.
"Man, I don't know your brother. I look like I hang out with a bunch of old white guys?"
Daryl shook the kid roughly, "Where's Merle?"
Rick grabbed Daryl and began to pull him off as the kid snorted and said, "Merle? What kind of white trash, redneck name is Merle?" It was a lucky thing Rick had pulled Daryl away, because if he had been any closer, Daryl's shoe would have made contact with the kid's skull.
"I been wondering that same thing myself," T-Dog confided to Jack quietly. "What cruel sort of momma names her baby Merle?"
Jack tried to bite back a grin, but was unsuccessful. Daryl shot them both a glare as he went to the pack that Glenn had been carrying earlier. Jack moved forward and stood near Rick, looking down at the kid. He was trying to act tough, but he was scared.
"Look," she said, and the kid's eyes snapped to her face, "we don't want to hurt you. We just want to get our friend back, get you back to your friends. Why don't you just cooperate? This doesn't have to be a bad situation unless we make it one."
The boy stared at her for a moment, wavering. She thought for a second that he was going to tell them where Glenn was being held, to play nice, but then a nasty leer spread over his face and he said, "When my friends come for me they're gonna cripple these assholes, but you? I can put in a word for you. We don't have many bitches around, might be nice. You'd have to earn your keep though."
It was obvious what he meant by earn your keep, and even though Jack knew he was only saying it out of fear, just trying to keep tough and make threats, it still sent a shiver through her. She'd had a close call already.
Rick put a hand on Jack's shoulder, easing her backward and away from the kid. "That's enough," he told the boy. "Just tell us where they're keeping Glenn."
"I'm not telling you shit."
Daryl snatched something from the backpack, something wrapped in a dirty bandana. "Wanna see what happened to the last guy that pissed me off?" He unwrapped the bandana and tossed its contents onto the kids lap. It was a severed hand. The kid screeched and fell off the chair and Daryl was on him in a flash, grabbing his leg and giving it a vicious yank. "I'll start with the feet this time!"
The kid screamed again and Rick pulled Daryl back off him. But the combination of the severed hand and Daryl's threat seemed to have been enough to convince the kid to give them what they wanted. He agreed to lead them to his group.
Their first meeting with the Vatos did not go quite to plan. Jack had stayed behind with T-Dog when Daryl and Rick went to meet Guillermo or "G" as the kid called him, and didn't hear what transpired between the groups. She did, however, see them bring Glenn onto the roof of the building and threaten to drop him off to his death.
Daryl, Rick and the kid were soon heading back toward them. T-Dog raised his hands and said, "What's the problem?"
"Why didn't they take the deal?" Jack asked, indicating the kid.
"They want the guns," Rick said. "The guns for Glenn. Otherwise no deal. In fact, they said they'd unload on us if we show up without them."
"Then we give up the guns, right?" Jack asked. They were walking back toward the abandoned building. Rick and T-Dog shared a look (Jack wished they would all stop doing that and just say what they wanted to say out loud).
"Cute and smart," the kid said to Jack. "You're a package deal, huh, baby?"
"Shut up," Daryl said, shoving the kid forward. They made it back to the building without encountering any Walkers, and once inside, the kid was forced back into a corner while the others discussed what was going to be done.
"We can't leave Glenn there," Jack said. She barely knew these people, but she couldn't stomach the idea of leaving him to an unknown fate with a potentially hostile gang. It was cruel. What must Glenn be going through? How scared must he be? Was he wondering if he would ever see their faces again? The very idea made Jack's throat become tight and the backs of her eyes burn.
"Of course we won't," Rick said with conviction, and then turned to T-Dog and Daryl. "We're getting him back, no matter what." He went to the bag of guns and started loading them back in, rearranging the ammo so that everything fit comfortably inside and he could pull the zipper closed.
"Them guns are worth more than gold. But gold won't protect your family or put food on your table. You willin' to give that up for that kid?" Daryl asked Rick. It was a practical question, given that they were a few lucky survivors of the zombie apocalypse, but the cold detachment in his voice made Jack's stomach turn.
"Glenn's life is worth more than a bag of guns," Jack said.
"Why do you care so damn much?" Daryl shot at her. "What's that Chinaman mean to you anyway? You jus' met him."
"It doesn't matter if I know him or not," she said, as calmly as possible, even though her hands were starting to shake like they always did when someone confronted her. There was a reason she could never have been a lawyer, didn't have the nerves for arguing. "He is a human being. He matters!"
"I might agree with you, Jack, if I knew for sure we'd get Glenn back," T-Dog said. "You really think that Vato across the way is just gonna hand him over? Easy as that?"
"Are you calling G a liar," the kid asked angrily.
Daryl kicked the chair, nearly sending the kid onto the floor. "You a part of this? You want to hold onto your teeth?" He smacked the kid roughly on the back of the head, which wasn't as bad as what Jack had been expecting. She had been certain the angry redneck was going to drive his fist into the kid's chin the next time he opened his mouth.
"The question is, do you trust the man's word?" T-Dog asked.
"No, the real question is, what're you willin' to bet on it? Could be more than guns. Could be your life. Glenn worth that to you?" Daryl asked.
Jack looked at Rick expectantly. Surely he wouldn't let Glenn suffer at the hands of those Vatos. Rick wouldn't leave him there. He couldn't.
"It is," Rick said. "I owe my life to Glenn. I wasn't anybody to him, and he saved me from that tank. He could have walked away, left me to my fate, but he didn't. And I won't either."
"You're gonna hand the guns over, then?" Daryl didn't seem upset about this, just curious. Perplexed, maybe, that someone would be willing to gamble so much for someone they barely knew. Jack didn't know much about Daryl, aside from the fact that he had an explosive temper and a colorful vocabulary, but she didn't think he was the type of person that normally went out of his way to help strangers, or even acquaintances.
Rick shook his head. "I didn't say that. We're going to get Glenn back and keep our guns."
Rick had given them all an opportunity to back out of the mission, to sit it out or head back to camp, but no one took him up on the offer. Not even Daryl, which might have surprised the cop more than Jack's agreeing to stand with them. He had made it very clear that she didn't need to feel obligated, that he would understand if she didn't want to get involved in this mess. They would still take her in, no pressure. But Jack had felt that if she were going to join this group, then she needed to play a part in defending it as well. That was the whole point to safety in numbers, right?
It seemed like it took a lot less time for them to reach the Vatos the second time. Maybe because of the nervous energy that poured off of them, or maybe because they were all dreading this meeting.
Jack pulled the shotgun in tight to her shoulder. She had never shot a gun before, so Rick had thought she should take this. It had a wider range, harder to miss a target. She hoped she didn't have to shoot it at all. Her hair was starting to come undone from its messy bun, dark brown strands falling into her eyes. She tried to blow them off her face, but it was no use, and she was so tense that she didn't dare take her hands off the gun in case something happened.
When they reached the doors to the Vato's stronghold, they didn't have to wait long. Soon the doors were swinging open. Daryl unceremoniously pushed the kid inside with the end of his gun and they all followed after. The doors shut after them and it was obvious they were outnumbered but not, Jack realized, outgunned. Most of the people were standing around them in a circle wielding bats, golf clubs, even PVC pipes.
"See my guns, but they ain't all in the bag," G, Guillermo, said. He only had eyes for Rick, but some of the other men were giving Jack blatant, appreciative glances. Jack was a pretty enough girl, but she didn't have luscious curves, or the sort of figure you might see in an oil painting or carved into marble. But women were scarce at the end of the world, and Jack guessed it didn't matter what she looked like, so long as she had the right anatomy.
"That's because they're not yours. Thought I mentioned that before," Rick said.
The man next to Guillermo started forward threateningly, but was stopped by a hand on his chest. Guillermo said, "And I told you what the deal would be. I'm gonna cut up your boy, feed him to my dogs. They're the evilest, man eating bitches you ever seen. I told you how it was going to be, or are you deaf?"
"I heard fine. You said come locked and loaded," Rick pointed his gun in Guillermo's face without hesitation. "Okay, we're here."
Jack could feel her heart beating in her throat. Never in a thousand lifetimes would she have pictured herself squaring off for a gunfight against a gang, especially after the world as she knew it had been obliterated. It was more drama than a soap opera and Maury crossover.
But just as she thought someone was going to open fire, there was a soft voice carrying through the crowd. Everyone turned and Jack lowered her gun ever so slightly. A little old woman came shuffling forward, speaking in Spanish to the man beside Guillermo, Felipe. When she caught sight of them, though, she asked in English, "Who are those people?" And then she noticed Rick's uniform, his hat, and scolded him, "Don't you take him!"
Rick looked at her in confusion. "Ma'am? Don't take who?"
"Felipe is a good boy. He had trouble, but he pulled himself together. We need him," she said, a little desperately. Behind her Felipe was throwing an exasperated look at Guillermo.
"I'm not her to arrest your grandson," Rick said, catching on.
"Then what you want with him?"
"He's helping us find a missing person. A guy named Glenn."
Her eyes lit up suddenly and she grabbed Rick's hand. "Asian boy? I take you to him." Rick followed her through the crowd with Daryl, T-Dog and Jack close behind.
Guillermo, exasperated with the turn of events, said, "Let em' pass."
It didn't take long for Jack's entire perception of Guillermo and his gang to be changed. They weren't hardened thugs trying to take from others. They were just trying to survive and take care of the residents of the nursing home they had taken over. They were looking out for those that couldn't look out for themselves. Tending to their medical needs. Feeding them. Protecting them.
They found Glenn in what looked like a rec room or converted cafeteria. He was standing with some others around an older gentleman who was struggling to breathe. "What's going on?" Rick asked.
"Asthma attack," Glenn answered. He nodded hello to Jack, and she was relieved to see that he seemed perfectly okay.
"Man, we thought they were feeding you to the dogs," T-Dog said, clapping a happy hand on Glenn's shoulder.
Jack looked around, but the only dogs she could see were a trio of Chihuahuas that looked less than vicious.
Eventually Rick and Guillermo had a talk and Rick gave over a few guns, which seemed noble. Jack wondered what it took to keep this place protected, to keep these people fed and cared for. She couldn't imagine what an undertaking it had to be.
They parted ways on good terms, though Jack was disturbed to catch more than a few of the men still giving her lingering looks. T-Dog seemed to notice too and pushed her ahead of him, blocking their view of her retreating from. It was gentlemanly and Jack appreciated it. How many people still subscribed to chivalry and kindness when the walls of civilization came crumbling down?
They walked in happy silence for a beat before Daryl said, "You gave away half the guns and ammo." It was more incredulous than accusatory.
Rick shook his head. "Not even close to half."
"What for?" Daryl asked. A bunch of old people that're gonna die soon anyway. How long do you really think they got anyway?"
"How long do any of us have?" Rick asked solemnly. "This pandemic isn't age or gender specific."
"I hate to interrupt," Jack said, "but what would be the chance that I could stop by my camp and grab a few bags? I have some food, water, clothes, even some toiletries that might come in handy."
"We could do with all the supplies we can get," Rick said. "Where is your camp? We can make a slight detour."
Jack shook her head. "I can't take you there, too many Walkers. I'd have to go alone and meet you back here, or wherever."
"At the car," Glenn said. "We parked on the outskirts of town, near the train tracks."
Jack nodded. "I won't be long." She started to head off, but Rick stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
"I don't feel right letting you wander off by yourself in the city. It's gonna be dark soon. There's no way to know what might be waiting there for you."
"My camp is in the middle of the Walker-verse. No living human is going to risk it there, except for me. I'll be fine. I'll meet you at your car in thirty minutes, or you can leave without me." And with that she took off, jogging back into the city, uncaring that she attracted the attention of the undead. They followed her all the way to her hideout, and ambled around idly as she gathered up the canned food, clothes, deodorant sticks, waterless soaps, and bottled water she had managed to scavenge.
When that group of men had robbed her they had cleared out most of the things she had managed to stockpile. What she packed up now into two separate duffel bags was just the stuff she had managed to find in the last week. It wouldn't go as far with a large group, but she thought it might be appreciated. Those people probably weren't used to luxuries like toothpaste and canned peaches anymore. And books. She had a few of those too. Her favorite titles, taken from the library: The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Little Women, To Kill a Mockingbird, and Grimm's Fairytales. Those were the books she felt she couldn't live without. So she had taken them, even though they were an added burden to carry around.
After she had gathered her belongings she headed out, jogging only half the way and then switching to a slow walk so that the Walkers would quit following her and turn back to their hunting grounds inside the city.
It only took her a total of twenty minutes to grab her stuff and make it to the outskirts, but when she got there and met up with the others, it was with some confusion.
"Where's your car?" Jack asked, heaving her bags that seemed to get heavier by the minute.
Glenn shook his head. "It's gone."
"Damn," Jack said, a sentiment that seemed to be shared by everyone.
Well, there it is folks, chapter one. I will always do my best to write long chapters, because I know how much I appreciate it when authors do this. I hate waiting forever for someone to update a story to only get a few paragraphs... -_-...
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