Chapter 2:

I could really use a cigarette right now.

Remy's hair whipped against her face painfully, dripping in sweat as the sun continues to beat down on her already heat exhausted body. She looks back at the dead chasing after her. It started out as four of them, and then it grew to eight, and then ten, twelve… She didn't know how many were there now. It seemed like the whole state of Georgia's walkers were after her. Welcome to beautiful and sunny Georgia. Try our peaches, and try to not get attacked by a horde of the undead.

Remy had to slow a bit to shoot one dead man in the head, using the last shell in her shotgun. She let the gun go and fall down against her thigh, still attached to her backpack by a strap she had made herself. She thought about making that strap, how her brother told her that it would be so much more convenient if she was ever running and needed to drop it. She'd still have the gun if she needed it later, but she had her hands free for whatever was being thrown at her, figuratively, or literally.

Remy grabbed her pistol from her thigh, and looked back to shoot another right between the eyes and she pumped her legs harder, going on what she thought had to be the fourth mile. Remy could feel the energy start to fade from her muscles despite how much she was willing herself to keep going. The adrenaline would only take her so far, and she hadn't had much water or food in the past two days, which meant that she was running on empty, and her fast approaching death was gaining on her.

Remy fired another bullet at another walker, but she didn't have enough bullets to take out all of them, something she knew from the beginning. There wasn't enough ammo left in the state of Georgia to take out the horde stumbling along the wet grass. There was no way Remy would be able to use her bow, which bounced against her back with every step she took. She would have to get up in a tree, and even then—more walkers could find her, and she'd run out of arrows eventually. She'd have to sit up in the tree until they lost interest, or she starved. She would die before they gave up.

Remy bent her knees, and ran down a hill, seeing a stream at the bottom of it. The walkers fumbled after her, some of them falling and making it to the bottom before she did. She had to use three more bullets to keep them out of biting distance. Remy pumped her legs again by the side of the stream, and the walkers rushed after her, desperate not to lose her trail, and none of the coordinated enough to not lose their footing in the slick mud and grass by the water.

She let off another shot when a walker got too close behind her. Remy jumped to the other side of the stream, and the walkers pushed through the water after her. It slowed them down and Remy pushed her legs harder, putting even more distance between them. Remy aimed her pistol and pulled the trigger once more, taking out another walker.

She jumped over again to the other side and slipped on the wet grass, almost falling down completely. She caught her balance and ran again, the walkers all right behind her. Remy came to another edge, looking down at the ground beneath her. It was steep, too steep, and Remy knew it, but the walkers were right behind her, and she didn't have another way out. She had one, maybe two bullets left, and that wouldn't get her anywhere. There was thick grass at the bottom, but the fall could kill her, and she planned on it happening that way entirely. Remy turned and used her last two bullets before she realizes she should have used one for herself.

Remy took off her bow, and tossed it down before she took a look behind her, and jumped.

"She's down here!"

Remy only vaguely heard heavy footsteps approaching her. She felt an aching, burning, sharp pain in her shoulder, and another pulsing pain in her right leg. "Is she bit?" the voice sounds distant, like it's at the other end of a tunnel and underwater at the same time.

She felt someone lift her arms up, and move her hair away from her neck. "Nah, but she ain't lookin too good. That was a high fall, and this arrow can't be helpin any." She can recognize the voice as crossbow's from the building in Atlanta and his voice got clearer the more he spoke.

"Why do you think she jumped?" another voice asked, Glenn.

"Cause she's stupid, that's why."

"Come on, let's get her up. Careful, somethin might be broken." A third voice directed—the cop. Remy feels her body leave the ground and she yells out in pain, her eyes opening as she's carried back into the woods. Remy's body is shocked awake, and her hand goes to her shoulder, her fingertips grazing over something sticking out of the flesh, and at first she thinks its bone, but she looks over to see half an arrow sticking through—the other half of the arrow still stuck in the other side of her back. Remy grips the arrow, readying to pull it through her skin.

"Don't pull it out," a rough voice demands. "It's just gonna make it bleed."

If Remy was in her right mind, she would tell crossbow that if the arrow was out of the wound, they could bind her shoulder to stop the bleeding, but instead, Remy lets go of the arrow and feels her head fall back, and the pain fade out. Get back to the tree.

Remy's eyes open. She was in a tent. She heard low voices. Her whole body hurt.

That's what her mind processed instantly. She sat up slowly, and rubbed her neck, trying to work out the soreness. Remy looks around the dark tent trying to take in everything she could. There was a light blanket over her fully dressed body, making her sweat in the humid Georgia heat. She threw the blanket off and saw her boots by the door, reaching forward with her left arm, and felt a sharp pain in her shoulder, to which she looks down and sees the bandage wrapping it up, blood seeping through to stain the once white gauze red. She sighs, and grabs the boots with her good arm and pulled them on, looking for her weapons and backpack as she tied them. Remy shook out the blanket, and looked under the lumpy pillow, but found nothing.

Remy unzipped the door to the tent and took a step outside, feeling for the first time the pain in her knee. The voices grew a little louder and she stumbled as she put weight on her right leg. Hyper extended knee. She felt someone steady her, and place her back on her feet lightly. She looks back and saw Glenn behind her, smiling lightly. "Hi." he greeted.

She stood up, and took a shaky, limping step away from him. She looks at everyone else around the fire, who have plates in their hands, enjoying their dinner, but were now staring at her.

The cop stands up, now dressed in different clothes. He moves toward her. "How do you feel?"

Remy looks around but doesn't answer. She sees a bag of guns by the door of an RV, and spots her bow leaning up against it.

"Oh, yeah, your stuff," the cop says, following her gaze. "Amy, and Andrea washed your clothes, put them back in your bag." he looks back at two blonde women by the fire, and they both wave slightly and smile. "Dale cleaned your guns for you." she looks over at an older man with a white beard, wearing a fishing hat. He nods and smiles lightly. "My wife, Lori, cleaned you up. Dressed your wounds."

A brunette by the fire smiles at her, holding a small boy, who Remy assumes is her son, close to her.

Remy looks around, a little overwhelmed.

"Uh," she clears her throat, and swallows hard, feeling completely dehydrated.

Remy looks down at a water bottle that's offered to her. She follows the arm to meet the Glenn's eyes. She takes it and nods in thanks. She unscrews the top and starts to chug it. She takes a deep breath and looks at the cop again. "You mind tellin me what happened?"

He chuckles. "You don't remember?"

Remy shakes her head, only to find that it sends a throbbing pain to her temples. Concussion.

"We heard gunshots, thought we'd go check it out. Daryl said he saw you jump off a cliff ahead of some walkers, they were starting to jump after you, so we brought you back here. You messed up your knee pretty bad, managed to get an arrow in your shoulder, hit your head too. Other than that just bruises."

Remy smirks lightly. "Is that all?" she asks sarcastically.

"I'm Rick Grimes," the cop says, grinning at her. "You know Glenn." he nods toward the man in question. "That's T-Dog." The dark skinned man from the building in the city. "Anyways, come on, get you somethin to eat."

Remy limps over to the fire and sits down on a log, stretching out her right leg to alleviate the pain in her knee. Andrea hands her a plate and T-dog drops a squirrel on it. Remy doesn't waste a second pulling the meat off the bones, and biting into it.

"So what's your name?" Amy asks.

Remy swallows the meat and looks up at her. They had done enough for her…the least she could do is tell them her name. "Remington."

"Remington?" Glenn asks. "Like the gun?"

Remy nods. "Remington, cause of my father's obsession with guns, but it's Remy if you want me to like you."

A few of them chuckle and nod.

"Well Remy, how is it you had practically the whole city chasin after you?" she looks back to see crossbow standing behind her. Daryl, according to everyone else.

"I needed food. I ran out about two days ago. There was nothin left in those woods for me to hunt, all my traps kept comin up empty. I went into the city, and there was just nothin left, and a few walkers spotted me as I was leavin, and they just drew in the whole group. Followed me right into the woods."

Remy continued eating, the gnawing hunger in her stomach subsiding. No one asked anymore questions, and Remy kept receiving food without asking for it, but she didn't complain. She just mumbled a thank you and kept eating.

"So, Remy, why'd you stay so close to the city? Not a square inch of that place that ain't filled with walkers." Remy looks up—it's Andrea who asks.

"I lived in Atlanta my whole life; I guess after all this sh—" She glances at the small boy and girl. "—stuff started to happen, I wanted to stay close to somethin I knew. It was stupid, I guess, but I think it kept me sane. Kept me from thinkin I was just imaging everything. It was a city that I was walking through since I was a little girl—and now you can smell the rotting flesh a mile away."

No one says anything else, and Remy thinks about her half truth. She was honest in saying why she stayed that close to Atlanta, she didn't want to leave. Even when her neighbors were trying to rip her stomach open. She couldn't tell them the other half—why she was waiting so impatiently day in and day out. Why she stayed in one specific tree marked with an x at the base. She wouldn't—couldn't.

One by one the group said goodnight, and walked off to their tents. Remy stayed by the fire, and kept throwing small pieces of wood on it when it started to get dim, just so she wasn't sitting in complete darkness. Remy heard the footsteps approaching before she saw anyone specifically, and Daryl falls back into a chair a moment later, and sips at his beer, which Remy wondered where he got, but decided even if she did ask, he probably wouldn't tell her.

Neither of them says anything for a while; they just sit by the fire, and Daryl thinks about the question he's burning to ask. A question he didn't know if he would ever get to ask after the first few hours, when they said she might not make it. He knew deep down that she would—he saw it in her eyes the second she held that bow up at him, she was a fighter. And if there was a hell, Remy had most certainly been to it. He didn't know why he wanted to ask the question, or why he was just itching to hear her answer. He didn't know why he cared.

He didn't know why, when he saw her throw herself off that edge, he ran like he never had. Maybe he hated to see someone with that much fight give up like that. That easily. He takes in a breath. "Why'd you jump of that cliff today?"

Remy looks over at him, not hesitating at all with her answer. "What else was I supposed to do?"

He shrugs, like he doesn't really care, to which Remy thinks—he probably doesn't. "Shoot 'em. Fight 'em. Something. You nearly got yourself killed."

"I would have been dead if I didn't jump anyway." Remy runs a hand through her dark brown hair. "I got to the edge and thought about how I'd rather die. By falling to the bottom, or getting eaten alive and turning into one of them. Can you really blame me for jumping?"

He stares at her for a second, and then shrugs. "Whatever."

She chuckles, and he looks over at her again when she doesn't say anything. "Somethin funny?"

She smirks. "You find your brother?" she changes the subject.

Daryl shakes his head.

Remy feels sympathy almost instantly. She knew what it was like to lose someone you love—and she could see the pain in Daryl's eyes.

"I'm sorry." she says honestly.

He looks over at her. No one had told Daryl they were sorry about his brother. Mostly because he knew no one in the camp was—but someone he had met twice in his life, who knew nothing about him was the first to try and comfort him…Funny how that shit works, ain't it?

Daryl scoffs. "Wouldn't be sayin that if you knew him."

Remy looks down at the fire, and shakes her head lightly. "He was your brother—don't matter what he was like, he was family."

They're quiet for a while before Daryl speaks again. "Why'd you ask Guillermo to let Glenn go?"

Remy had hoped she'd never have to answer that question. She sighs. "Guillermo's a good guy, takin care of all those people, but I've seen the things he's had to do. I've seen him fight till his last breath to keep those people safe, and to keep all his supplies. I knew he would kill Glenn if he had to, and I know he felt like he did. Ya'll are good people too, and Glenn didn't deserve to die. I wasn't about to sit around and watch it happen. Not when I could've stopped it."

Daryl's silent. Remy yawns, stretches her knee and stands up, not putting any pressure on her right leg, and not waiting for a response from Daryl. "See you in the mornin."

She limps off to her tent, and unzips the door before she slides in, stretching out her leg all the way down to the other side of the tent. Remy sighs and feels the sleep settling back in, despite the fact she slept for most of the day. The exhaustion was still racking her body and the pain wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. She looks up at the night sky through the top of her tent and feels her eyes slowly closing, and the crackling of the fire dying.

"I'm so sorry Remy." he takes a few steps back. She follows him.

"You don't have to do this." she pleads. "We can both go."

He shakes his head. "No. I can't let you do that Rem."

"And I'm just supposed to just let you go out there alone!?" she cries.

Jason nods. "Yeah, you are."

He pulls her into another hug and pulls away too quickly. "I gotta go. Be careful." Jason starts running, out of the woods, and toward the city.

Remy stares after him. "Jason!"

And then Remy's staring at a walker. It's shuffling toward her slowly, and she calls Jason's name lightly. It stares at her blankly, and Remy doesn't make any move to kill it. The walker grabs Remy's arm and bites into her wrist.

Remy jumps awake, sending pains through her body, which makes her stay still until the shooting pains fade and turn into dull throbs. Remy sighs and runs a hand over her face, wiping the sweat onto her jeans before she sits up and pulls the laces on her boots tighter and ties them securely. She pulls herself up, working to not bend her right knee, or work her left shoulder. Remy exits the tent, and pulls her hair back with a rubber band from her wrist. The group by the fire looks back at her. A few of them waved, a few called good mornings.

Glenn stands up, and walks toward her. "You want some breakfast?"

Remy shakes her head. "I gotta get goin."

"Get goin? Where to?" Rick asks.

Remy shrugs, deciding to lie. "The woods have been fine."

"You got chased out of the woods." Glenn tries to reason. Remy sighs. The same sentence ran through her head. Get back to the tree. Get back to the tree. Get back to tree. It was practically an instinct now.

"Look, like I said before, I appreciate this, and I'm not tryin to seem ungrateful for what you did for me. Ya'll saved my life, and I'm not gonna forget that, but I'm better on my own."

"No one's better on their own. Not with the walkers everywhere. And especially not this close to the city." Rick says.

Remy stares at him for a second. "You're not gonna let me go, are you?"

Rick shakes his head. "No, not really."

Remy nods, knowing she could slip out later. "Then I guess I'll take some eggs."

Remy limps by the two of them and she sees Glenn smile at Rick. She sits down on the same log as the night before and is handed a plate with a spoonful of scrambled eggs on them. Remy eats in silence, listening to the other small conversations of the group around her. There wasn't much to talk about small talk wise anymore…they couldn't talk about the TV show that was on the night before, or a new movie coming out. There wasn't much privacy in the camp, so everybody knew how and what you were doing…and everyone knew the weather. Remy finishes her small plate and puts it with the others, who are doing their best to keep conversations rolling.

Remy looks at Rick. "Where're my guns?" He nods toward the RV, and Remy stands up and moves toward it, feeling someone following behind her. She pulls the door open and walks up the small steps into the RV. Remy spots her guns on the small table, which she reaches quickly and grabs her backpack and slings one strap over her good shoulder. Remy grabs her pistol and attaches it to her thigh, and hangs her rifle from her backpack and grabs the strap on the shotgun, holding in by her side. She grabs her bow and quiver of arrows on her way out, feeling so much better now that they were in her hands.

She turns around and sees Glenn staring at her. "Where are you goin?"

"Out." She replies. She limps out of the RV and wobbles down the stairs. Remy makes a short stop at her tent to throw the rifle, bow, arrows and the backpack in. She keeps her shotgun and her pistol, along with the knife in her belt.

"Mind if I come?" Glenn asks, still shadowing her.

She glances back at him. "Can you keep up?"

He chuckles. "With a handicapped? Yeah, I can try."

Remy nods lightly.

"So is that a yes?" he presses.

She glances at him again. "Yeah fine. But I don't want to hear any complaining." Glenn smiles and follows her into the woods silently. Remy cuts down on the limping, ignoring some of the pain from her knee, because the last thing she needed if she ran into a walker was a limp. Remy moves silently deeper into the woods, and hears the occasional crack of a fallen stick from behind her.

"So why are you out here?" Glenn asks, trailing closely behind.

"I'm makin sure it's secure." Remy replies quietly.

"Dale keeps watch every day," Glenn tells her. "There's no walkers around here, he'd seem them if there was."

Remy glances back at him, sighing mentally. "I'm sure ya'll keep this camp safe, but if I'm gonna stay here, I wanna take a look for myself, alright?"

Glenn nods, and stays silent for another, what Remy counts, is a half an hour. "Hey, we shouldn't go this far." Glenn whispers.

Remy doesn't look back. "You're the one that wanted to come with me."

He sighs. "I didn't know you were going out to get yourself killed."

"You'll be fine." Remy mutters. They walk only another few feet when Remy stops, hearing dragging footsteps ahead. She puts her hand back to stop Glenn. Remy crouches down in the bushes and watches the walker stumble by slowly. Remy hands Glenn her shotgun and pulls out her knife.

"What are you doing?" He demands, whispering so lowly Remy barely hears him.

She looks back at him. "You want it to find its way to camp?"

Glenn stays silent. Remy stands up slowly, and the walker spots her, moving forward desperately. Remy moves through the bushes and moves forward slowly, and venomously. The walker advanced on her, reaching its arms out to grab her flesh, and Remy kicked it back with her bad leg, the amount of force she was capable of putting into the kick wasn't enough to send it back far, so the walker was coming right back for her. Remy dodged grabbing hands, and pushed the walker back. Remy swung her knife out with her good arm and the walker takes a deep cut to the eye, moving toward her half blind, which didn't seem to help much. Remy kicks it again, and can barely put her foot on the ground this time without pain in her knee. Remy was starting to think she got herself in over her head when Glenn yells her name.

"Remy!" Glenn yells, warning her. Remy hears a click and falls to the ground, dodging whatever was flying toward her. She looked at the arrow lodged in the forehead of the walker beside her. Remy looks over to see Daryl with his crossbow still raised. Remy gets up slowly, keeping her weight off her knee.

"I had him."

Daryl scoffs lightly, and nods. "Looked like your leg was givin you trouble."

"Yeah well I keep favorin one leg and the other's gonna get weak." she mutters.

He wants to roll his eyes. "So you nearly get yourself killed cause you don't want your leg gettin weak? Didn't think you were that stupid."

Remy looks at the walker that's shuffling up behind Daryl. She grips her knife, flips it, and throws it. The blade skims past Daryl's face and lands in the eye of the walker, sending it to the ground. Daryl turns slightly, looks down at the walker and smirks. Remy raises an eyebrow. "You were saying?"

Glenn comes out from the bushes for the first time since Remy left him. He looks at the two walkers. "I'm...gonna go back...to camp."

Remy leans down and pulls the bolt from the walkers head. She walks over to Daryl, who takes her knife from the walker's eye. She holds out the bolt and he takes it as she takes her knife. Remy looks back at Glenn, who's standing closely beside her.

"You gonna be alright?" she asks him.

He nods shakily, looking a little too pale to be healthy. Remy starts walking back through the woods, wiping the blood off her knife onto her jeans. Glenn catches up with Remy quickly and Remy hears Daryl trailing along behind. Glenn hands her shotgun back to her and she lets it hang at her side. Remy barely gives in to the pain, barely limping on her knee every few steps putting a little more pressure on it.

"You keep strainin that knee it ain't ever gonna heal." Daryl calls, he smirks while she can't see him. "You should favor the other leg."

Remy scowls, and doesn't answer and after a few minutes, she grudgingly starts to limp again. Glenn glances over at her. "What'd you do before this?" he asks.

"You mean before the world went even more to shit?" she clarifies. He nods. She doesn't answer for a second. "I was a psychiatrist for a while, but it wasn't really for me. I was thinkin' about medical school when all this happened."

"Really?" Glenn asked. "You're kind of young, aren't you?"

She glances at him, smirking. "Twenty six? How old am I supposed to be?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. How do you know your way around a gun bein a head doctor?"

Remy takes another pause, not knowing how much she wanted to tell him. "My parents."

"Were they cops or something?" Glenn asks.

"No," she replies, stepping over a fallen tree. "My father just liked guns, my mother just liked fightin'."

"Is that how you learned?" Glenn pushes even farther.

"No, she never taught me how to fight." she says, and decides that since he asked, he could have the truth. "Guess I just paid attention, and learned from watching it."

Daryl didn't like the way Remy said that…something about her voice was off, something about what she said didn't feel right. They reach camp before he can say anything and Remy walks off toward her tent, leaving Glenn by the RV, and Daryl at his own tent. Remy puts the shotgun in her tent by her backpack and walks back to the RV, which Dale's standing on top of. Remy needed to get her mind off what she told Glenn, and what she was sure Daryl overheard. Remy climbs the ladder up to the top, Dale smiles. "Come to keep watch?"

She shrugs. "Figured I should do somethin'."

Dale smiles. "How do you like it here so far?"

Remy shrugs. "Better than anything I've had for a while."

Dale nods. "The apocalypse does bring some bad luck."

"I meant before the apocalypse," Remy says quietly, doing the complete opposite of what she climbed the RV for. Dale gives her an understanding glance, to her surprise, and doesn't comment, and she wants to thank him for it.

"So you just sit up here all day?" Remy asks, changing the subject swiftly.

Dale nods. "Can see far from up here, gives us an advantage if I see one coming our way. Dale picks up his binoculars, and puts them to his face, looking out into the woods, and over the hills. "Huh."

Remy looks over at him, and tries to follow the line of the binoculars, but whatever Dale's looking at is too far away for her to see. "What?"

Dale hands her the binoculars and points up, to the hill across the camp. Remy follows his finger and looks through the binoculars to see a man at the top of the hill, throwing a shovel over his back. "Is that Jim?" Remy had met him once, briefly that morning.

"Yeah, it is." Dale says distantly.

"What's he diggin for?" Remy wonders aloud. She looks over at Dale, and he shrugs in reply.

"Got me."

Remy sighs. "Maybe he just needs to blow off some steam…diggin' holes to tire himself out or somethin'. Give him a little while." Remy hands the binoculars back to him. "I'll come back later. Keep an eye on him; make sure he doesn't pass out." Dale nods and looks through the binoculars again.

"I don't want to alarm anyone," Remy looks up quickly, her hand going to her pistol. Dale continues. "We may have a bit of a problem." She looks up to the hill, and sees that Jim is still digging; it had to have been hours now, which Dale confirms. The last time she had gone up on top of the RV it had only been a half hour. She and Dale decided to give him some time…but hours of digging brought on some concerns. A few of the group left, going back into the city for supplies, is what Remy was told in a mutter from Shane. So if Jim losing his mind, or got violent…most of the brute strength of the group was gone.

The group reach the top of the hill and Jim doesn't even look in their direction as they all approach him, concern etched into most of their faces, some completely black, and some show fear. They all stand there and watch him, no one making a move besides Shane, who stays a few feet in front of the group, closer to Jim.

"Hey Jim," Shane says softly. He sighs when he doesn't get a response. "Jim, why don't you just hold up, alright? Give us a second, please?"

Jim stops, and looks at Shane, clearly annoyed and clearly exhausted. "What do you want?"

"We're just a little concerned man, that's all. Dale says you've been out here for hours." Shane replies.

"So?" he retorts.

"So why you diggin?" Shane asks calmly, which Remy knows is the right way to go. She keeps her right hand free by her side, so it can grip her pistol if she needs it. Shane chuckles. "You headin to china?"

"What does it matter? I'm not hurtin anyone," Jim brushes off the group and continues digging.

"Yeah except maybe yourself," Dale cuts in, stepping up beside Shane. Dale didn't show fear, he showed nothing but concern about the member of his group that clearly needed help. It's more than most of the people standing around could say for themselves. "It's a hundred degrees today. You can't keep this up."

Jim scoffs. "Sure I can. Why not?"

Lori steps forward. "Jim, they're not gonna say it, so I will. You're scaring people. You're scaring my son, and Carol's daughter."

Jim stands up again, breathing heavily, shovel still in hand. He glances at Carl and Sophia before speaking to Lori. "They got nothin to be scared of. I mean what the hell people, I'm out here by myself, why don't ya'll just go and leave me the hell alone."

Shane glances at Dale, seeming to have a silent conversation. Seeming to know what needed to be done. Shane steps toward Jim. "We think that you need to take a break, okay? Man, why don't you go get yourself in the shade, some food. Tell you what, maybe in a little bit I'll come out here, and I'll help you myself." Jim doesn't answer, so Shane continues. "Jim? Just tell me what it's about. Why don't you just go ahead and give me that shovel?"

Jim stands up, backing up apprehensively."Or what?"

Shane stares at him, laughing lightly. "There is no or what. I'm asking you, I'm coming to you and I'm asking you, so please, I don't wanna have to take it from you."

"And if I don't?" Jim asks. "Then what? You're gonna beat my face in like Ed, aren't ya? Ya'll seen his face, huh? What's left of it! See, now that's what happens when someone crosses you." Remy's hand slid onto the top of her pistol when Jim's eyes skimmed over the group and she saw just how much anger was shining in them. Remy had seen people like this before, and it didn't end well for anyone involved. She didn't want that to happen here, today.

"That was different Jim," Shane mutters.

"You weren't there," Amy says. "Ed was out of control, he was hurting his wife."

"That is their marriage, that is not his!" Jim yells, pointing to Shane. "He is not judge and jury! Who voted you king boss, huh?"

"I'm not here to argue with you, just give me the shovel—" Shane steps forward and reaches for the shovel, which Jim pulls out of his reach. "Just give me that damn—!" Jim pushes Shane back, and swings the shovel at him. Shane was used to sudden outbreaks of violence…being a cop for so long, and dealing with this group over the past few months, Shane was always ready for violence. He was always prepared to tackle someone to the ground…always waiting for the fight to breakout. Shane ducks, and tackles him to the ground. Shane pulls Jim's arms around his back, which leads Jim into the tearful story of his family. How he watched them die, and how Shane had no right to force him to do anything.

"You got no right! You got no right!"

Remy stares at Jim as he sits tied to the tree, talking to Dale and Shane just out of earshot. Shane pours water over Jim's head to cool him down from the digging and overheating. After a moment of holding herself in her seat, Remy gets up and walks over to them. She wasn't normally one to give in to her burning questions…as her father used to say, 'curiosity killed the nosy as motherfucker', but Remy had to know.

"Jim? Do you know why you were digging?" Remy asks. "Can you say?"

Jim looks up at her. "Had a reason. Don't remember…somethin I dreamt, last night." Jim looks over at Carl. "Your dad was in it, you were too. You were worried about him. Can't remember the rest; you worried about your dad?" Remy can see it in Carl's eyes.

"They're not back yet." he replies.

"We don't need to talk about that," Lori intervenes, rubbing Carl's back.

"Your dad's a police officer, son, he helps people. Probably just came across some folks that needed help, that's all. That man, he's tough as nails. I don't know him well, but I can see it in him, am I right?"

Jim looks up at Shane, who nods. "Oh yeah."

Jim nods, and looks at Carl again. "There ain't nothin that's gonna stop him from gettin back here to you and your mom, I promise you that."

Remy walks away from them, and goes back to her tent, sliding inside and laying on her back to stare up at the sky. She sighs, and for a second thinks about getting her stuff and sneaking away from the group. Get back to the tree. Remy didn't like crowds, and she didn't react well to other people, mostly because she understood them so well. It was easy for Remy to understand the human mind, and that's why she hated them.

She knew how vile they were, how sadistic they could be, and how little most humans cared for other people. They weren't much different from the walkers, really, and that's why Remy stayed away from them, for the most part. Why she didn't help Rick when he first went into the city—why she never approached Glenn when she saw him run in for supplies. Take away a human's sense of safety—their peace of mind—they become animals. Attack who and what they have to, to survive.

"Remy?"

Remy jumps out of her thoughts, and looks out the window of her tent to see Glenn staring in.

"Yeah?" she replies gruffly.

"You've been staring up at nothing for about three hours." he informs her. "Andrea and Amy caught a bunch of fish on the lake today, you hungry?"

What a stupid question to ask during the apocalypse. She sits up slowly, going easy on the aches and pains. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" he asks.

Remy nods. "Yeah." Glenn walks away and Remy looks at her bow laying on the ground next to her backpack. Her shoulder still hurt—but she didn't have a choice now. Remy could either push through the pain in her shoulder to find dinner, or she could go a night without eating. Remy knew better than to even think about it, because in the apocalypse…if there's food in front of you—you eat it. Remy couldn't afford to be weak…so she had to eat. Remy exits the tent, bow in hand, her arrows secured on her back. She walks around the back of her tent, and behind the RV, to avoid any conversation that might occur if someone spotted her walking away. Remy walks along the edge of the woods, and slips through the trees unnoticed by the group.

Climbing is difficult with a leg that can't bend and an arm that can't hold any weight, but Remy gets up to a sturdy branch and leans her back against the trunk of the tree, and lets her right leg dangle off the branch. Remy slides the bow off her shoulder and pulls an arrow from the quiver, securing it in the bow. Remy waits—and does nothing but that. She doesn't move, or breathe too heavily, or pull her leg up when her knee begins to ache. It was uncomfortable, and she wanted to scream after the first twenty minutes, but she finally spots a movement in a tree a few yards away, and holds her bow up, pulling the draw back. There are branches in her eye line, and leaves hanging in the way, but Remy aims perfectly.

"What the hell you doin up there?" Remy doesn't flinch at Daryl's rough voice ringing through her ears. She just aims steadily. She lets the draw go and the arrow flies forward, flying through the branches and leaves, and landing in the eye of a squirrel.

Remy looks down at Daryl. "Killin' dinner."

Daryl walks over to the fallen squirrel and picks it up, pulling the arrow from its eye, trying to not look too impressed. Most of the women in the group couldn't even hold a bow, let alone aim it, and kill something with a perfect shot. "You know they got tons of fish over there?"

Remy nods. "I'm allergic."

She slings the bow over her shoulder and climbs down the tree, one legged. She takes the squirrel from Daryl. "At least I can eat it while it's still warm." She takes the arrow as well and slides into back into the quiver.

"You don't know how to cook it?" Daryl asks.

"Gotta know how to skin it to cook it," she replies. "I usually eat it raw."

Daryl takes the squirrel back, and smirks. "If you wanted me to teach you how to skin a squirrel, all you had to do was ask." He walks toward his tent, and Remy rolls her eyes and follows after him.

Remy throws the last bone into the fire, and wipes the grease on her hands onto her jeans. There was no way that Remy could deny that squirrel was much better cooked-and much less of a mess than the usual blood bath that it is. Remy hears footsteps approaching and her hand twitches toward her bow. It had gotten dark, and she couldn't see into the woods as well as before, so she was on edge. If there was one thing Remy liked less than walkers, it was not being able to see them coming. '

To Remy's relief, Glenn walks into the light of the fire. "Daryl, have you seen Re—" Glenn spots Remy, and stops. "Oh, you weren't in your tent, thought you got lost in the woods or something."

Remy gives him a small smile, trying her best to make it look real. "I'm right here."

He nods awkwardly. "Right." Glenn walks back toward the camp with his head down and Remy sighs.

Daryl glances over at her. "He followin you around like a lost puppy yet?"

"Gettin there," Remy replies.

It's silent for a few minutes and almost identical to a day before, Daryl thinks about asking her a question he can't get off his mind. He wonders again why he cares. Why anything that's happened in Remy's life is any of his concern. He doesn't have an answer for himself. He opens his mouth to speak again. "Earlier, what you said about your mom, watching and learning? What'd you mean?"

Remy looks over at him, wondering why he cares—at all. From the things she picked up from him, he wasn't the type to think about, or worry about, others problems. Loners tend to stay out of others' way—and lives, for that matter.

She shrugs. "She had a temper, and in her eyes I couldn't do anything right."

Daryl nods, but doesn't say anything in return, and Remy glances over at him again, before locking her eyes back on the fire. When a scream rings through the air, Remy's on her feet in seconds, her arrows slung on her back, and her bow in front of her. She runs forward, readying an arrow while she does. She only sees Amy on the ground bleeding for a moment before she sees the other walkers crowding the camp. She shoots off her first arrow, and vaguely sees it land in a walker's eye.

Remy hears shots start to go off, and she moves in a blur, swiftly loading arrow after arrow and letting them fly forward at the walkers.

"Get to the RV!" Shane yells. Remy doesn't make a move toward it, instead she lets go of another arrow, and loads another in the same second, sending it into the eye of a walker beside her. Remy reaches back for another arrow and grabs at the air. "Shit." She slings the bow onto her back and pulls out her knife. Remy abandons her limp and moves quickly toward a walker, shoving the knife in its eye. Remy feels a grip on her left shoulder, in the still fresh arrow wound. She grinds her teeth together with the pain, and spins around, stabbing the walker in the forehead. Remy swings her arm around when she feels someone behind her and she catches the walker in the temple, and has to yank on her knife when it gets stuck. The walker falls to the ground, and brings Remy with it, her hand still holding the knife in a death grip.

Remy yanks on the knife again, but can't pull it from the walker's skull. Remy lets go of the knife and spins around, kicking the walker that's now in front of her in the chest. It falls back and she stomps on its face, crushing it's skull under her boot. Two walkers move toward Remy at the same time, and she blocks out everything else—all the gun shots, the yelling, screaming, crying, it's all gone. All she sees are the walkers. Remy punches one in the face, sending it to the ground with the force of her fist, and she backhands the other, she kicks it in the knee, breaking its rotted leg, and moves toward the other, giving it the same treatment of crushing its skull. The second walker grabs her right knee, and it easily gives out, not able to withstand the weight, and added force.

The walker crawls toward her and Remy kicks it in the face, which only deters it for a second, and it starts moving toward her again. Remy drags herself away, her knee not able to handle any more walking or limping. The walker grabs her arm and snaps its teeth, and Remy shoves her boot onto its shoulder, pushing it away again. Remy looks up to see another walker stumbling toward her and backs away, only for it to fall down next to her and bite at her arm. She punches the walker in the face and the other walker bites her ankle—but can't get its teeth through the thick leather of her boot. Remy elbows the walker beside her and kicks the walker at her feet in the face again, she hears a crack and the walker goes limp.

Remy yells out in pain when the walker still moving next to her grabs her shoulder. She puts her hand around its neck and holds it back as she tries to stand up, but the walker pushes forward and gets on top of her. Her hand slips on its neck and the walker gets dangerously close to her face, snapping its teeth and growling. Remy pushes the walker back barely an inch from her face and her mind races. Remy refused to die. She refused to let this be how it all ended. Remy had come too close to death recently, and she wouldn't get there again.

"Remy!"

Remy's head snaps to the left, where she sees Daryl throw something toward her and pull the trigger on his cross bow in the same second, taking out a walker that was walking up on Rick. The object lands heavily in the dirt next to Remy's head, and she recognizes the black pistol Daryl kept in case of emergencies like this. Remy shoves the walker back, putting all her strength into her good arm to reach over and grab the gun, which allowed the walker to get closer to her face and snap it's teeth. Remy pulls the walker up farther and shoves the gun under its chin, and doesn't waste a second pulling the trigger. The walker goes limp and Remy pushes it off of her, laying for a moment to take a deep breath. Remy stands up, and keeps most of her weight off her right leg as she leans against a tree, the five walkers that she'd been fighting laying in a small pile in front of her.

Remy hears footsteps approaching on her left and is instantly on alert again. Remy stands straight, her hand gripping the gun tightly as she turns to see Daryl walking toward her. Remy relaxes and holds the gun out to him when he reaches her.

"Thank you," she breathes. He nods, and Remy watches as the last few walkers are shot, and killed—for good. She takes a step forward and has to limp as heavily as ever. Remy reaches down and grabs the handle of her knife, putting her boot on the walkers face as she pulls, and finally, she frees it, wiping the rotten blood on her jeans. Remy puts the knife in her belt and looks at the ground, seeing an endless stream of walkers that leads into the woods. Amy is on the ground, Andrea crying over her, trying to comfort her sister as she struggles to breath. Remy can't do anything but watch, along with everyone else, as Amy dies.

"I remember my dream now," Jim says quietly. "Why I dug the holes."