As promised, here is chapter 2! Please review and let me know what you think. :)

On a side note, I've decided I will include the date at the start of every chapter. I think it will help to make the passage of time clearer.

June 5, 1925

Nine Months Later

"Thanks, sunshine!" George grinned as Cecil unloaded the last box of wine from Zora's four-door Model T. Her backseat had been stacked high with crates of wine and tequila, a blanket thrown over the crates to disguise what was beneath them.

"I can't stay long," Zora said. "I've got another delivery later today. Gotta head out to the moonshiners to pick it up."

"Ah," George said. "Is Frankie goin' with you?"

Zora shook her head. "He's pretty sick. Can't come today."

George frowned. "You sure you're all right going by yourself?"

Zora raised her knee-length skirt to display a handgun strapped to her thigh.

"I think I can handle it."

"Well, be careful," George cautioned, his expression still worried. Normally Frankie, a young Italian man in his mid-20s, would accompany Zora on her trips out to the country for moonshine. Despite the fact that George had been doing business with the moonshiners for quite some time, he and her father still felt that she needed an escort when picking up a shipment. Frankie would ride out with her to the country, and she would drop him off at home once she entered the city limits. She made her deliveries in the Five Points neighborhood alone to avoid drawing the attention of the KKK. When Zora had learned of Frankie's illness earlier that day, however, she decided that she was more than capable of picking up the shipment by herself. After all, she had been smuggling the moonshine successfully for almost a year now.

In fact, her business had expanded exponentially since its inception. Zora now distributed bootleg liquor to four speakeasies: three of equal size to Walton's, and one small hole-in-the-wall joint. Her supply of hooch had also expanded; in addition to the moonshiners George had been in business with, she also delivered wine and tequila that had been smuggled in from Mexico. The hooch from Mexico was brought in to the States via boat, where it was then stashed onto a train and shipped north.

This particular source had surprisingly come into Zora's hands by way of her father. When the smuggling train conductor had been apprehended by her father, he had given him the option of going to jail or selling his loot to Zora, with as much protection from the law as he could offer. The choice was a clear one, and for the past three months, he had been delivering Mexican wine and tequila to Zora on a bimonthly basis. She had picked up a shipment earlier that day and had just dropped it off for storage at Walton's. A trip out into the country for an order of moonshine was now in order.

"I'll see you later," Zora said, giving George a confident smile over her shoulder as she left Walton's. She climbed into her car and began the hour-long drive out of the city.

At first, the long drives bored her. But now, she found herself looking forward to the peace and quiet they offered. Frankie never talked much, so his absence was hardly noticed now as she made her way out of the Atlanta city limits. Her life had become quite busy in the past nine months, and the city was just as busy and loud as it always was. She had been making very decent money with her new position, and she had moved out into a spacious apartment of her own. The apartment was on the third floor of the building that was next door to Walton's, which worked in her favor for deliveries. Her car being parked behind the building never looked out of the ordinary. The apartment was also only a ten-minute walk from her father's apartment. He had finally come around and accepted her new way of life, but it had taken several months for him to do so.

Zora sighed contentedly as she drove further out into the country. It was already early evening, and the sun was casting a golden glow on the peaceful surroundings. City life was busy and exciting, but the country always seemed relaxed and easygoing. Before long, Zora's hour-long solitary drive had ended as she pulled up to the moonshiners' farm. She pulled the Model T into the barn as she always did, and two men slid the doors closed behind her. She climbed out of the vehicle to see Louis, the moonshiners' leader, smiling at her.

"Evening, Zora," he greeted.

"Evening, Louis."

"No Frankie today?" he frowned as the two men who had closed the barn door began loading crates of moonshine into Zora's backseat. Zora recognized one, but not the other. He was quite young, possibly still in his teens. She found herself wondering how someone so young had gotten involved in bootlegging, but decided not to think on it. Life in the country was much different from life in the city.

"He's sick," she shook her head. "But the show had to go on without him."

"Guess so," he said. "You sure you're okay drivin' back by yourself?"

"Of course," Zora replied, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She turned and reached into the passenger seat to grab the bag of cash to pay for the shipment. She handed the bag to Louis with a smile.

"As always, pleasure doing business with you," she said.

"Likewise," Louis replied with a smile.

Zora climbed back in the car as Louis's two lackeys slid the barn doors back open. She backed out of the barn and turned around, heading back the way she had come. The sun was starting to set and she still had an hour drive to get back into the city. The delivery was for a joint called the Peachtree Tavern. It was only slightly bigger than Walton's. The owner, James, was an all right fellow, but he had a short temper when Zora's deliveries were late.

Zora had only made it about ten miles before she saw two cars blocking the road up ahead. She frowned. It was rare to see other vehicles out in the country like this, and she found herself becoming concerned by the blockage. What if the KKK was on to her and this was their way of apprehending her? She didn't think it was likely, but the thought still crossed her mind. She slowed to a stop, her hand wavering over the gun strapped to her thigh. There were three young men standing outside the vehicles that were blocking the road. They looked young enough to be teenagers. Before she had time to react, one of them pulled a tommy gun from one of the cars and pointed it at her through the windshield.

"Get out of the car," one of them ordered, holding a handgun that was now trained on Zora through her open window.

"What's this all about?" she asked.

"Ain't your place to be askin' questions," the boy with the tommy gun shouted.

"Okay, okay," she murmured. She opened the car door and exited slowly. She cursed herself for coming out here alone without Frankie. Two of the teenagers held their guns pointed in her direction, while the third boy went around and opened her back door, throwing back the blankets to expose the crates of moonshine.

"It's all here like he said it would be," he called to his comrades. Zora suddenly put two and two together. These boys looked to be the same age as the teenager in Louis's barn. It seemed as though he had tipped off his friends so that they could hijack her shipment. The thought made her angry, and before she could put much thought into what she was doing, she reached for the gun strapped to her thigh.

The boy holding the handgun saw the movement and swung the handgun at her, hitting her hard across the mouth with the butt of the gun. Zora could taste blood instantly. She felt the boy reaching for her gun and she tried in vain to kick him away. The butt of the gun hit her across the face again, bringing searing pain to her cheekbone where it had struck. The boy had managed to seize her gun, leaving her unarmed and defenseless. She looked up at her attackers and tried not to look as weak as she felt.

"What're you gonna do?" she asked them. "Bump me off for a little moonshine?"

"Maybe, so you better watch your mouth!" one of the teens snarled at her.

"So you got some guns and you think you're tough," Zora sneered. "I'd be careful if I were you. If you bump me off, you're gonna have to go on the lam. My daddy has been a sergeant for the Atlanta police department for twenty years, and he knows I'm out here tonight. You wouldn't make it far before he got you and pinched you for murder."

The boys looked uneasy and glanced between one another.

"She's lying," one of them said.

"Am I? Go ask Louis, your friend's boss. He and my daddy have a special arrangement to protect his still from being raided. I'm sure he'd be happy to confirm that it's true."

"What if she's tellin' the truth?" one boy said. "I ain't goin' to jail for this."

"Let's just take her loot and leave her," another suggested. The boys seemed to agree with this idea, and the boy with the handgun nudged her off to the side of the road.

"Just in case you're tellin' the truth, we're gonna let you live," he sneered at her. "But we're takin' your hooch and your car."

"My car?" Zora exclaimed incredulously. "You can't just leave me out here in the middle of nowhere!"

The boy snickered. "Watch us."

Zora watched with widened eyes and a slackened jaw as all three boys climbed into one car each and drove away, leaving her stranded. She let out a scream of frustration and kicked the ground. The sun was starting to drop below the horizon. Not only had she lost the shipment for the Peachtree Tavern, and therefore, the money it took to purchase it, but she had also lost her car. The moonshine still was at least ten miles away, and she wasn't sure how far it was until the next semblance of civilization. She racked her brain and recalled that there was a small general store about fifteen miles from the still. That meant it had to be about five miles away. Even though she was wearing a dress and heels, Zora resigned herself to walking. With a frustrated groan, she began walking down the gravel country road in the direction of the store.

How could she have been so stupid? She never should have come without Frankie. She knew the teenage boys likely would not have attempted to rob her if she hadn't been alone. She was dreading George's and her father's reactions when they found out. They would be furious, but also angry with her for deciding to come alone.

As the sun set, sending the country around her into darkness, she also began to feel afraid. The moonlight illuminated some of her surroundings, but she still felt vulnerable. As she walked on, time felt as though it were dragging by. She had no idea how far she had come, but her feet ached and felt as though she had been walking for miles. Feeling defeated, she trudged on, until suddenly she noticed a house that was slightly off the road. She paused, looking at the house that appeared to be mostly dark inside. She saw a truck parked in front of a large shed, and her hopeful side got the better of her. Maybe the owner of the truck would be able to give her a ride the rest of the way to the general store. She knew approaching the unknown house wasn't the safest idea, but the blisters on her feet influenced her decision. She sighed resolutely and made her way toward the house.

The house was old and plain, and the porch creaked noisily under her weight as she approached the front door. She took a deep breath and knocked loudly. Nothing stirred inside. Zora waited a few moments before knocking again. Still nothing. She gave an irritated huff and peered in the windows, but the house was dark. She walked off the porch and made her way around to the back of the house. The house seemed dark and still here, too, but she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her face to the glass, hoping to see any sign of occupants inside.

Suddenly, she heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked behind her.

"Lookin' for somethin'?" a low gravelly voice asked.

"Easy, fella," she said, slowly turning around with her hands raised. "I don't want any trouble."

She was faced with the barrel of an older model Winchester hunting rifle. Its owner appeared to be a scruffy-looking man in his late 30s or early 40s. He was dirty and had two dead rabbits tied to a rope slung over his shoulder. Even in the moonlight, Zora could see his blue eyes contrasting with the grime on his face. He was examining her, observing her heeled shoes and knee-length dress. His piercing stare softened a bit when he noticed her bloody lip and swollen cheekbone. He lowered the rifle, his eyes continuing to scrutinize her.

"What're you doin' out here?" he asked her gruffly.

Zora wasn't sure how to respond. "Some teenagers stole my car," she said carefully, deciding that was the best response. "Say, you got a telephone I can use?"

"Do I look like the kinda fella who has a telephone?" the stranger growled. "Ain't even got electricity out here."

"Oh," Zora murmured, feeling stupid.

"You ain't from around these parts, are you?"

She shook her head. "I live in the city. In Atlanta."

"I can tell," he said, giving her another once over. "You don't look like anybody around here."

"There's a general store nearby, isn't there?" Zora asked. The man nodded.

"Bout two miles down the road."

"Is there any way I could persuade you to drive me there? I know it isn't far, and I could walk it, but my feet hurt . . ."

The man stared at her like she was stupid.

"They're closed," he grunted. "They don't stay open past dark."

Zora couldn't stop her despairing groan. She felt tears of frustration begin to prick her eyes, and she blinked them away furiously. The man was staring at her with an uncomfortable expression on his face. Zora took a deep breath and tried not to look so pathetic.

"I'm sorry. It's just been a rough evening," she sighed. "I'm stranded out here and I don't know what to do."

The man sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck.

"Look, you don't know me, but you're welcome to stay here for the night. I won't hurt you or nothin', and in the morning, I'll take you to the store after they open."

Zora knew she didn't have any other options, aside from walking all night in hopes that she would make it into the city by morning. This man wasn't the friendliest person, but he had offered her a place to stay when he didn't have to. She decided to take the risk and nodded slowly.

"Thank you," she murmured. "That would be wonderful."

The man extended his hand to her. "I'm Daryl. Daryl Dixon."

Zora took his hand and shook it lightly. "Pleased to meet you, Daryl. I'm Zora Brown."