Sorry this took a while, everybody. Many reasons are my excuses but the main two is one, the basic bitch Jesse Anderson... she's so irrelevant to the show like go away... stop ruining Richonne and the second reason is my new found attraction to Rick. I have no idea why I didn't find him as attractive as Daryl in the first few seasons but dayumm, as Zenora would say:

"Nigga you is fine as hell!"

So... I got some new ideas for my little tale that I'm telling. Which involves Rick Grimes... and Zenora... and a love triangle with Daryl... BUT NOT ALL THE SAME DAMN TIME and of course in the end it'll be Daryl... but let me shut my mouth, we are wayyyyy behind. I got 5 seasons to write about and insert Zenora in it. Let's get a move on!

Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading, loving, favoriting, following and reviewing Epiphany.

Enjoy this new chapter!

Disclaimers: Damn how the world is so cruel by not letting me play a part in The Walking Dead but instead making me a teenage girl that is now loving Rick fine ass but still backtracking the original bae Daryl... a girl can only dream of owning them right?

Chapter 8: The Man They Call Rick

Zenora's POV

Daryl clapped his hands together, and motioned for me to follow. "Clap em' together like this." He nodded his head. The two of us clapped perfectly in sync, creating a constant, little beat.

After a few more claps, Daryl stopped and began to sing to the beat, "Nigger flow, nigger run, nigger tore his shirt in two..." I watched with narrowed eyes and mouth agape as this damn true redneck sang that damn song. He must have been joking. "Run, Run, the patty' gonna' get you."– "Run nigger run, well you better get away..."

By then, I was shaking my head with hands on my hips as I watched him continue to sing that darn song with pride. Didn't he know that it was my people that song was made by? But of course, it was Daryl... instead of being a nice lil' white boy by telling campfire stories around the fire or some shit, this nigga gonna come and suggest he sing me a little song he claim his daddy used to sing when he was a little boy.

"Nigger run, run so fast, caught his head in a hornet's nest. Run run, the patty' gonna get you, run nigger run, well you better get away." - "Some folks say 'nigger don't steal', well I caught three in my cornfield–"

"You a damn lie, Daryl Dixon," I interrupted his ass, pursing my dark pink lips. I roll my brown eyes, grabbing a twig to poke the fire the two of us sat around. "You know damn well your daddy did not sing that song to you as a substitute for bedtime stories."

The redneck kissed his teeth and leaned forward, toward me. "I swear on my own life, Ze-Nora." Yeah right... just like you swore my name had to broke apart like it was the letter Z and then Nora. "My pa' did sing that song to me and my brother Merle. Then soon after, Merle'd sing it to me."

Shaking my head before taking a bite of the juicy, slow roasted deer meat me and Daryl managed to catch just a couple of hours ago and roast by the fire he brewed, I sassed in between chews, "Well... your brother and your father is damn fools." – "I heard that song before and don't you think it's strange that the white man would warn the niggers to run? They ain't care."

Daryl too busy cleaning his crossbow to acknowledge me, leaned his back against a fallen tree log. He warmed himself by the fire before shrugging his slightly muscled shoulders. "And? Yer' point is?"

I tossed the meat-now-only-bone at the redneck, hitting him square in the chest. When he tried to throw it back, me being all crafty and shit, dodged it and stuck my tongue out at him, childishly. Daryl in return stuck his middle finger up.

"My point is," I flashed him the bird back, grinning at the glare he fixated on his tanned face, "that song was made by my people that picked cotton to make your people rich. Your daddy and older brother are a bunch of jackasses who know nothing about history and are ignorant enough to sing your ass a song that got nothing to do with them– rather than the slaves who made it."

Watching with a light giggle, Daryl snorted and waved me off. "You don't know shit, Ze-Nora."

"Zenora," I say, tight-lipped. "You don't want me to start calling you Da-aryl now do you?"

Da-aryl just shrugged them shoulders of his and narrowed his eyes. He rested his crossbow at his side and propped one knee up, "See, girl, that just proves to me how you don't know nothin'. Ma' name obviously ain't Da-aryl and your name obviously is Ze-nora."

Well what the hell could I even say? Country-bumpkin, squirrel skinning-hunting-eatin'-ass-redneck-niggas were dumb.

"I know the meat you was roasting is burning now." I chimed back to him in a sing-song tone, my southern drawl present in my light soprano voice.

At said sentence, Daryl shot up and sniffed the air surrounding us. "Damn!" He cursed, rising to his feet with an extra spring him his lagged step to remove the piece of deer meat. With a frown engraved in the features of his face, the redneck grasped the slab of now singed meat, regardless taking a big bite.

I watched with amused eyes and a teasing smirk as Daryl chewed slowly. "What it taste like?" I snickered, leaning forward as if I was interested.

Daryl opened his mouth, showing the chewed meat to me and wiggled his tongue around, "How does it look?"

"You so nasty!" I yelled, covering my eyes.

"You did ask me how it taste." He shrugged his shoulders, smirking smugly at me.

"Yeah! How it tastes, not how it looks, Da-aryl."

"Daryl, Ze-nora. Not no damn Da-aryl."

"Zenora, Da-aryl. Not no fuckin' Ze-nora."

The redneck waved me off with his hand and settled himself, I guess you could call it "comfortably" to lean on the log. His hands rested behind his head like a headrest and he sighed, contently. I had to say... this side of Daryl was the kind I liked. Anytime after us bickering and talking shit to each other, it'd always end in a peaceful silence. Opposites get along kinda' well, don't they?

With a little sigh of my own, I laid on the ground, using my arms as a cushion for my head. If I was gonna' lay in dirt, let me at least keep my face clean.

A yawn escaped my lips and my eyes started drooping, so I knew I was gonna fall asleep soon. But wanna' know what kept that from happening?

Daryl Dixon and his squinty, kinda' nice shade of blue eyes gawking at me through them brown eyelashes of his. Back when I hung with the low-lifes (I'm kinda one myself, hardy-har-har) I was used to people looking at me, but I ain't really pay it no mind. But that was one of my lots of numbers of downfalls, so I had to sleep with one eye open. Couldn't trust nobody. And when this end-of-world shit went down, now that one eye turned to two.

So the point is, just because I had a small amount of trust for this redneck-nigga— scratch that, a trust-ish for this redneck-nigga named Daryl who hunted squirrels, harvested their meat and ate it... didn't mean I would let myself sleep with these eyes closed—they don' seen too much.

I sat up, throwing my arms in the air and letting them fall back to my sides. "What you want?" I asked, crossing them over my chest.

"Nothin'." Daryl shrugged his shoulders, sighing to himself as if he was oh, so relaxed. But yeah, that's right. He was. This nigga was used to being in the woods or some type of wilderness and stuff.

"Mhm, is that so?" I rolled my eyes when he nodded. "Then why is you looking at me like I'm some type of meat—or should I say, squirrel?" I bit my tongue to keep laughing when he rolled his eyes, finally sitting up along with me.

Daryl motioned to the ground and then to his tree log.

"What?" Confusion laced in my tone.

With a huff, Daryl waved me over.

I looked behind me and then turned back to this crazy man, pointing a finger at myself, to make sure he was indeed talking to me. 'Cause the Daryl Dixon I knew for these past few days, turned into a week wasn't touchy. And he made it completely clear that he was putting up with me for the time being. I knew once his big brother Merle came back from the dangerous run in Atlanta—if he came back alive and not bitten—he was gonna' do his own thing and kiss that bald, redneck's ass who don't know shit about the stuff he be singing—I was still pissed that he thought it was okay for him to sing that song—and then it'd to back to the regular routine of me fending for myself at that camp with a little help on the side from my brotha' and sista' from anotha' motha', Jacqui and T-Dog.

Not that I liked Daryl Dixon in the first place...

"I can't read minds, you know." I point out to him, sassiness laced in my tone.

I watched as he slapped his forehead and began mumbling incoherently to himself—white people with anger issues—and he huffed loudly like he ain't have no sense, finally sighing in an exasperated tone of voice, "This log got plenty of space for you to come lay, Ze-Nora."

My eyebrows knit together and lips pursed. My heart said, oh he's nice. But then as my mind flooded with thoughts of my past and many of the suckas' I trusted, my heart said hell fucking naw. The dirt was nice and soft, and there was a nice stream of water to wash up in. No problem. Plus I could dust myself off.

"Nah, I'm good, Daryl. You and your log can have a nice sleep—"

He cut me off, snapping, "If you think I'm trying to pull something on you—don't flatter yourself... I don't go for niggers, especially sassy, big mouth ones who makes me so distracted with what she gotta' say that I burn my food—which I never have done before since I been on my own." - "And besides, I don't want to hear you complain, bitch and moan when you wake up with a bad back and have red ants crawling out your ass. You're parked right next to a big ant bed."

... well...

Damn.

I guess I should have noted the many ants I found myself stomping on with the soles of my combat boots... And the fact that I was already getting a crook in my lower back. With a heavy and resigning puff of air from my lips, I stood up, grabbing the flannel shirt to tie around my waist, and the bow staff and little bit of arrows that we made and had left. I plumped my ass right next to him, giving him a once-over before turning to the opposite of him. I heard him shift about, so that told me he did the same.

We was butt to butt now; occasionally, if I'd shift or move slightly, I'd feel either the blades of his shoulders against my back or his butt touch my ass briefly to which, he'd scoot ever so slightly.

A few minutes past of us continuing to do this, not saying a word to each other; the only things heard was our small movesment, Georgia breeze howling occasionally and the crickets chirping out a little song—a more fitting "bedtime story" for this country nigglet.

"Daryl?" I found myself cooing, half hoping he was knocked out and would snore to give himself away or that he wasn't so we could talk; I couldn't sleep. Simple... And I felt guilty for assuming the worst about him. Oh, and I also was impressed too with how he could sense it. I tell you, Daryl Dixon manages to surprise me everyday, you know.

"What?" He softly grunts back, no sleepiness at all laced in his southern, husky yet gruff tone.

"... You sleep?" ... Obviously not, stupid! I mentally kick myself for asking that question. Why couldn't I just ever get to the point?

I was expecting him to snap at me, but surprisingly I heard a snicker come from where he lay next to me. With my brown eyebrows knit together, I turned to face him and he must have heard me turn, 'cause soon after, he was looking right at me with them squinty, blue eyes.

His response to my obvious question was his hand gesturing to himself. Hmm, expressive redneck. "Here talking to ya', aren't I?"

With a soft smile plastering on my face, I nod once.

"So what'd you want, Zenora?"

I shot up abruptly. "Wait... say that again." My ears must deceived me because he ain't say in that broken language kind of way. He fully said my name how it was supposed to be said. As a ZAA-NORAH and not no Z-NORAH.

"I asked you what did ya' want, Ze-nora." He repeated, and killed my vibe... I swear Daryl Dixon played too much games...

I lay myself back down against the fallen tree log and sighed, turning away from him. "Nothing." I say, closing my eyes.

"Well, good." I can hear him say. "We need to be getting to sleep anyways—a long day ahead of us... we gotta' hunt some more and bring back enough for the camp. Merle and the others should be back around afternoon time, so we need to be back before then."

Mannnnnn...

"G night', Zenora."

"... good night, Daryl."

Yeah not only did he play games... He was also one slick motherfucker that could make me smile—more than I did in the past few years of my hard life.

.

. .

.

"Daryl, how long we gonna' be out here huntin'?" I questioned to the blue eyed man, as we crouched through some thick underbrush and over a few dead tree logs. He gave me a back glance before grasping his crossbow. He shushed me with a finger to his thin lips and I nodded, watching as an arrow with highlighter orange tips was loaded into his weapon and shot forth with immense speed before hitting and splintering a big tree.

With raised eyebrows, I turn to him, motioning to the wasted arrow, "Is you blind, Daryl? Ain't nothing over there! You just wasted—" his middle finger was on my lips, silencing me from talking and making me glare and want to laugh at how crafty this redneck-nigga was.

"Watch and learn, sass-mouth." He whispered through hushed lips. With a roll of my eyes, he removed his finger from my lips and slowly picked up a reasonable sized rock before tossing it into the patch of bushes with a hefty throw.

We waited a good two minutes and nothing happened.

I snort, shaking my head and pointing to the bushes, then poking his side in a teasing manner. "Now what was I supposed to see, smart-ass?"

Daryl Dixon reached for an arrow and placed it in his crossbow, before beckoning forward, a smug smile on his face. "That."

I looked to where he shot his next arrow at and gasped at the one, two, three, four! elk popping out of the bushes—one was already injured and limping from Daryl's shot.

I grasped my bow and grabbed an arrow poising it between my fingers and the launching string as I liked to call it, closing one eye to better my aim. As I pulled the string back as far as it'd go and released the arrow, it went flying and landed straight in the neck of one of the elk, bringing him downnnnn!

Daryl started nodding his head with a look of appreciation shining on his tan face; needless to say I jumped up and was squealing in delight, doing that little running man dance, where you ran in place. That retro song "She's a Maniac" started playing in my head as I did that, but Daryl simply rolled his eyes, with a defeating sigh, "Big whoop, you got yer' first kill... Now what about your second? Or third? Or hopefully fourth, so we can be set with meat for a good two months or so?"

Damn, usually that would count as a buzz kill, but he was right. We did have them other elk to catch and four was always better than one.

Needless to say, two of the three remaining got a head start.

That one Daryl injured shouldn't have made it that far.

"Get that one you killed, snap it's neck and drag it with ya' until you get to the one I shot. Then I want you to finish that one off and wait a good ten minutes for me to come back with the other two—I will be back, Ze-Nora. So you stay put, okay?" Daryl instructed, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

His blue eyes stared to my my brown ones for a good fives seconds before he grunted at me, a firm nod of his head and dashed off, headed in the direction of the fleeing elk.

"And stay safe!" He called over his shoulders, but then came running back. Not to me, but to the dead elk. He snatched his arrow from the tree and then mine from the dead animal's neck, wiping it clean and tossing it back to me with a short wink.

There was nothing to blush about... And yeah, the small blush faded when I watched his hands roughly grab the elk by the thick neck and one snap! to the left, and he did it.

He snapped the neck for me.

Then Mr. Dixon took off running at full speed, huffing to balance himself and keep his breathing even while he tracked and ran after the two of three elk.

With a nod of my head to myself, because I had my work cut out for me— I holstered my bow on my back and approached the animal.

Hands landed on my hips and weight was leaned into one leg and I looked down at the thing I had to somehow drag back with me and get the other one, too... What the hell?!

I grabbed the furry hind legs and attempted—failed, because the damn things was so heavy! Which made no sense at all, because all these things ate was grass right?!

Salad was supposed to make you skinny and light, not plump and fat!

I thought about leaving him here for a second to get the other one and then come back for this one and drag him to the other one... but this was survival of the fittest right? Or should I say that natural selection type of shit... but that wasn't right either—you know what?

Basically, what I meant was if I left this one alone, then he could get taken by some other hungry animal—or nigga should I say... then what if by the time I got to the other one, I found one of them messing over my kill?

The best to do was to put on my big girl thongs and drag this heavy motherfucker along with me. I rolled up the sleeves of my flannel and tied the front into a knot just to have it out the way. Grabbing one of the hind legs and front legs as I faced forward, I tugged the elk forward with me for each step, stopping only after a count of twenty to catch my breath. A quick stretch and I was ready once again before walking on with my kill to my next one.

I stopped, kneeling to the ground. Imitation to learning something was key; imitation to getting something you wanted was key. It was like if you wanted to wine and dine on expensive crab... but couldn't afford it. What was your solution? Imitation crab. Same went for that new Gucci bag released—go to your local underground purse seller and what did you go buy yourself for a quarter of the price? Imitation Gucci... or better known as a knock-off.

I copied what Daryl did whenever he kneels on the ground. He would survey his surroundings, which was what I did. And find anything related to what he was tracking—a bitten leaf, foot prints, pile of shit, etc... And when I say anything, I mean anything.

My eyes zipped across the soils of mother Earth and spotted a lot of small droplets of red. No doubt it was blood. I crouched closer to the first collection of droplets I spotted and half-imitated Daryl, touching it with the tip of my fingers. And when I say half-imitate, I mean just that. When Daryl touched stuff, he touched it. Instead of just touching the animal poo—this nigga dug his fingers in and let it marinate before finding what he was looking for.

Now in my case, the blood was warm and sticky—freshly leaked and had to come from my prey, so there was no need to do all that disgusting hunter shit—no offense to Mr. Dixon, himself.

Following the trail, while dragging my first kill with me, I found it lying on the ground with the arrow in his hip. His brown eyes were so watery and occasionally a whine of some sort would whimper from the poor creature. I slowly knelt to him and touched it's light brown, beating chest. This animal's heartbeat was so fast—it'd die soon. And I was started to feel bad. I wanted to put him out of his misery.

I reached for one of my arrows hanging at my side and grasped it tightly in my hand, preparing to stab the thing in the neck or something or maybe the heart. It would be easier than me attempting to shoot 'em with arrows and miss every shot—just because I struck a killshot back there ain't mean I was no expert; I just got real lucky.

With a heavy sigh, I drove the arrow in the neck of the elk, watching as if gave a final breath and the eyes went lifeless. I snatched the arrow from the wound and wiped it on the fur of the animal—no need to dirty these light blue, high waisted jeans than they already were—they were Guess. The fancy logo in the back, on one of the pockets gave way to that.

Clipping my arrow with the others, back to my side, I dragged the kill to the other and sat down on the largest one.

And this was the part where I waited for Daryl to come back, like he promised he would—well, in my head, those words of his was a promise.

But sure enough, before I could even start to count to minute-7, the bushes to my right started to rustle and out walked Daryl... elk-less.

Before I could even ask him, he beat me to the punch, seething, "Son of a bitch kicked me in my side when I tried to tackle him, and as for the other? If I ain't come back with it, then you know who the hell got it." He pointed to the two I got, nodding his head. "Nice work... but I want you to get back to camp—alone."

"And what you mean by that, Daryl? We came on this hunt together, so we supposed to leave and come back together."

"Who the hell told you that, girl?" He shot back, squinting his eyes and placing his hands on his hips.

I stood up, mocking him by doing the same. "Nobody but myself." - "So I ain't going nowhere unless we going together. As a team."

"You know I can handle myself, so I don't see why the fuck you so worried, Ze-Nora." He walked a little closer, sighing, "Just follow where the sun is shining and you'll be there. I need to get that elk."

And I didn't understand exactly why... especially if we already got two. Let the other one go... two should have been enough to last us for a good while. Along with everything else we had at the camp.

"Come on now." He coaxed. "I'll be fine. And you damn there know it, girl."

It looked like there was no convincing this prideful fool. A heavy sigh escaped my lips before I finally gave him a nod in agreement. I know I had to do this. But that didn't mean I'll like it.

"Alrighty, then." Daryl grunted. He reached in his boot and pulled put a pocket knife, placing it in my back pocket; I completely ignored the subtle grab at my ass... he'd deny it anyways. "Take that for emergencies. You suck like shit at the bow and arrows, so that being yer' only weapon won't do you any good."

I kicked his boot with the tip of mine, sassing back "Well at least I ain't let no elk kick me in my back!"

He rolled his eyes, scoffing, "I told you I tried to tackle the bastard and he squirmed from my grasp and did that."

I waved him off with my hand, preparing to heave one in one hand and get the other in my other hand, but Daryl stopped me. "You sure as hell don't got no sense, Ze-Nora."

A hand went on my hip. "What you mean?"

With a kiss of his teeth, Daryl pulled out a ball of twine from one of his pockets and gave one end me to, pulling a long strand. I watched as he secured the legs of each elk, grouped together with the hind legs tied and the front legs just the same. He then nudged me forward and hooked the sturdy string to two of my belt loops on my jeans and tied a triple knot.

"So you don't strain yourself, taking 'em back to camp." He said, shifting the strap of his crossbow to his other shoulder. "Now, remember to be safe and follows the sun. The camp ain't nothing but twenty minutes from here, so if it seemed like more time than that to you, whistle and I should be there... if not, make a camp. I can track ya' well." And he ran off after that leaving me to make my way back.

.

. .

.

"What the hell?" I murmured out loud at the sound of a constant, beeping horn. I thought ten minutes ago that my ears were just playing games and my mind was deceiving me, as I found myself by the hill that led to open road and up to the camp grounds... that damn beeping horn, added in with a car alarm and loud purr of engine was getting closer and closer.

I walked, with the elk behind me that was still tact with the twine Daryl gave me and peered down the hill with squinted eyes as a cherry red car drove down the road, the loud ass horn honking and car alarm going off. It was headed straight this way; whoever the hell had that car and was letting the alarm go off like that was a damn fool. That loud sound was enough to attract walkers and that was the last thing anybody needed up in that camp.

The red car I figured to be a Camaro halted to a slow ride and the tinted windows rollled down to reveal none other than the cute, but now stupid Asian named Glenn.

"Hey, Zenora!" He exclaimed, a toothy grin plastered on his yellow face. He stroked the flawless, red door. "Isn't she beautiful?"

I untied the twine from my belt loops and opened the passenger door, heaving each elk in the backseat and climbed in, shutting it. "She sure is loud, Glenn." - "Loud enough to attract some walkers." I add, when he pulled off, whipping the wheel like he was a race car driver.

"I know, but it was the only way we could escape the herd of walkers, you know?" He chirped.

"We?" I looked around and saw nobody in the car but me and him. "Where is everybody else at, sweet-pea? ... Jacqui and T-Dog... are they—"

"We almost didn't make it," he told me. "But... yes. They're fine. Thanks for worrying about me." He joked, cracking a crooked grin.

I leaned forward, kissing his cheek in a friendly type of way. "I'm glad you fine too, Glenn."

He pulled up to the camp and helped me out of the car with an extra spring in his step, "Good. That's the way I like it!"

Once we was out of the car, everybody was waiting for us... and it wasn't too pretty.

They all turned to Glenn with glares on their faces.

"Holy crap, turn that damn thing off!" The old man Dale scolded, covering his ears.

"I don't know how!" Glenn started to panic, when everybody was ganging up on him. You had Shane yelling at him, Lori shouting too, Carl clinging to him momma', Dale scolding Glenn, everybody telling him to turn the car alarm off and Amy pestering the boy about her sister Andrea.

"She's fine. She's fine. Everyone's fine..." He sighed, quieting everyone down. Shane popped open the hood and the man named Jim pulled one of the plugs cut to the car's engine, finally shutting off the car and stopping the alarm. "Well, Merle not so much..." I leaned forward, wanting him to elaborate more but he only gave me a grim look.

Everybody seemed to calm down almost immediately, all except Shane ass. And y'all know he always had something to complain and bitch about.

"You crazy driving this ol' bastard up here, trying to draw every walker for miles?" He snapped at Glenn, narrowing his dark brown eyes at the Asian.

"Shane," Dale stepped forward. "It's okay."

The asshole's gaze shifted to Dale and he gave him a look, placing his hands on his hips. "You call being stupid okay?"

"Shane, Dale's right. It's okay. I been out all night in them woods. Ain't none of them out there. And if it is, it's nothing y'all can't handle." I found myself covering for these boys, because I wasn't gonna' let him come and take his wrath out on them. Especially when Glenn just came back. Why not welcome him for being safe instead of automatically reprimanding him for some shit beyond his control?

The bastard turned to face me, glaring and jabbing a finger in my direction. "What the hell were you doing in the car with him? Shouldn't you have been out hunting with Daryl?"

I huffed, and opened the back door, pulling on the twine with two hands to drag the tied up elk out of the back seat. I gestured to them with pursed lips and a hand on my hip.

"She's awesome isn't she?" Glenn mused, his brown eyes glowing. "Zee didn't just get one—she got two deer for the group!"

He helped me drag them forward and place them out before the group. "Glenn, baby, they not deer. They is called elk." I turned to Shane with a small glare of my own. "And if you must know, Daryl still out there. Currently tracking the other one we saw."

Shane huffed and turned his attention away from me, turning back to Glenn. "Well, just think of the trouble you could'a caused to the camp."

"I'm sorry." He apologized, taking off his cap before placing it back on. His frown suddenly turned into a crooked grin, as he gestured to the sleek, red Camaro car. "At least I got a cool car..."

Once he said that, everybody attention turned to the storage van pulling up. It screeched to a stop and the back door slid up, opening. The blonde Andrea jumped out, running over to her sister Amy.

"Andrea!" She hollered, tears coating her eyes. "You scared the shit out of me!" I watched with a smile as the two hugged and reunited.

Soon came everybody who went on the run, including Jacqui and T-Dog. I gave them both hugs, glad that they was safe and ain't nothing happen to them. We joined the others, waiting for the two in the driver and passenger seat to come out and be greeted by everybody else.

Shane watched as everyone rushed over to their loved ones. I saw him give a glance to Carl, who looked sad... like he was missing out on something. He turned back to Glenn and said, "How did y'all get out of there anyway?"

"New guy." Cute Asian answered.

Shane's eyebrows perked up. "New guy?"

"This crazy guy who just got into town..." Glenn trailed off, licking his lips.

Carlos jumped out, rushing over to his baby girl and wife and he waved the white man in the truck over. "Hey helicopter boy! Come say hello!"

"Guy's a cop, just like you." Carlos later added, tipping his head to Shane.

We all watched as the driver door of the truck was kicked open and out shyly stepped another white man—he couldn't have been a brotha'?—he wore the same brown police uniform Shane wore back when we first met. His hair was full of brown, lustrous curls, like Shane's but more neat, longer and better looking. A clean cut, shaved face and blue, innocent and wary eyes. He was handsome. He approached the rest of us with caution and paused to eye Shane.

His eyes then flickered to Carl and Lori—I thought back to old picture I found at the man named Rick's house and how the two of them bared a resemblance... this version of the man just older; this man was Rick.

The one I was constantly blamed for being shot and left in a coma...

He was alive.

Up and functioning.

Well.

Carl screamed, "Dad!" Running over and engulfing the man in a big hug and Lori soon followed, embracing that man like she never embraced him before. She pelted kisses on his cheeks and he did the same. One glance at that reunited family and I felt giddy inside... I ain't have shit like a pot to piss in... but things like this, actually made life worth living.

Lori was a major bitch, sometimes and despite all that, I couldn't help but feel happy at her finding her husband.

Moments later, once they was still hugging, I slowly approached the man, with caution in my step. I felt a rough grasp on my elbow and already knew who it was. His soft, southern tone hissed lowly in my ears, "What the hell you think you're doing? Don't go over there and ruin their moment—"

I shrugged out of Shane's grasp, ignoring him with a sharp glare on my face.

I took a deep breath in and then slowly released it, kneeling down behind him. He must have sensed me approaching because he turned around away from his wife and son to face me.

My voice shook a little when I talked, but I managed to get out, "Y-Your name is Rick Grimes right?"

He stood and helped me to my feet, along with his wife and son. "Yes."

"W-Well... my name is Zenora Brown... I was with the men that you and your squad of police was chasing and had a shootout with... I believe we got a lot of catching up to do."

A/N:

Ooh, major cliffy.

So sorry to end it right there but it had to be.

Thoughts of this chapter?

Liking it?

The Daryl and Zenora fluff? Rick Grimes finally making his appearance? Please let me know and review, telling me y'all thoughts!

I again, apologize for the late update. But it's summer now. Chapters will be out soon. I promise that.

Next chapter y'all know, Daryl returns from the hunt

Rick and Zenora talk

We go back to Atlanta

And there'll be a little twist with the Vatos!

Stay tooned yall! I'm excited to be continuing to write this story!

Kumi-Chan/Tobi-Is-Fluffy-Chan