Daryl raises his crossbow so it is lined up level with his shoulder blades and directs his aim at the large group of walkers near the front of the grocery store. He then turns his head and gives Glen a nod. Quickly they make their way down the open street, and in no time at all are standing in front of the pharmacy. The entrance of the store is made up of three seperate panels of tempered glass, and while Glen places his hand on the door knob, Daryl looks back to check one last time. Whatever has caused the cluster of walkers to gather down the street seems to be keeping them occupied. None have noticed them.

As the door swings open a welcome bell chimes, and it may as well be a dinner bell for the effect it has. Daryl quickly peers out the window to find several walkers have already started to head their way. It's nothing they can't handle, but any movement or noise is going to alert their friends.

Scowling, Daryl grabs hold of the bell in his hand and pulls down hard, breaking the string. Glen then motions the hunter to take the other end of the nearly empty shelving unit, and together they lift it to block the enterance.

All that is left on the shelf is a box of tampons and some band aids which Glen promptly throws into his empty pack, then the two men walk softly down the isles, pilfering whatever they can.

A ray of sunlight filters through the dirty pane of glass, revealing a thousand tiny specs of dust floating in the air. The smell in the room is damp and musty, and Daryl can practically taste the mildew on his tongue as he walks further into the store. It's clear no one has been here for a very long time.

The hunter turns, tossing a box to Glen. "Hey Korea, catch!"

Glen's fast reflexes have the condoms landing perfectly in his outstretched hands. "Ya need those right," Daryl says, a devilish glint playing in his eye. Glen simply shakes his head and without ceremony, tosses the box into his bag.

Daryl rounds the back counter with Bob's list in hand, while Glen cautiously makes his way down the isles, dropping various items of use into his backpack. He bides his time, wandering slowly as he takes in the state of the run down structure, and when he looks up again he is standing in front of the baby supplies. Out of habit he finds himself already gripping a package of diapers in his outstretched hand, and a pang of sadness hits his heart like a tidal wave. It's not often he allows himself to think about Judith. It's to painful, but tonight Glen knows he will say a prayer for her.

Daryl interrupts his thoughts when he calls out from the pharmaceutical closet. "Glen you won't believe it. Our man Rick must have had a sixth sense about this place. Everything here from penicillin to prozac, inhalers to baby aspirin. Hey we can really use this stuff if Judith ever gets si...ck."

Daryl pauses for a long time, then carefully places the pills back on the glass shelf. Once again the reality of their situation crashes down upon him, while he stares blankly at the small bottle. A lump forms in his throat so big he doesn't know if he can even breathe. She is the piece that is missing, and for Daryl it is overwhelming. He never speaks of her at all, he can't. But the hunter thinks if he could, it would be Beth that he'd tell. Beth gets it. She feels it too.

Glen is the first to hear the noise. A dull rhythmic thumping that grows louder with each second that passes. He looks in the direction from which it comes and discovers more walkers are finding their way to the entrance now, clawing at the storefront as they desperately try to seek access. The glass begins to shake from the pressure, and the shelf in front of the door starts to sway.

No longer does Glen suffer paralyzing fear of these creatures. That ended years ago. Knowledge and experience has taken it away. It doesn't however, take away the anxiety he still feels in the pit of his stomach that twists in a knot at the sight of these things. He only counteracts the effect by always having a plan. "Don't let yourself get caught." That has become his mantra.

Glen's frantically searches for the back exit, and as fast as he spots it he flings the pack over the shoulder, making a mad dash for the door. "Daryl, pack it up! Grab what you can. We need to leave now!"

Daryl quickly sweeps the shelves with arm, and pushes the bottles into his bag before rushing out from behind the counter. The low static groans from moments ago are fast becoming increasingly loud moans of hunger as more and more of the dead pile up and push hard against the door. The vibration causes the shelving unit to come crashing down, while small cracks begin to form and expand on the glass.

Glen pulls the security bar off of the rear exit and bounces the weight of it in his arms. Satisfied, he decides to hold onto it. The bar is solid, heavy, perfect. "Ready?" He whispers.

Daryl notches a bolt into place, lifts the crossbow, and grunts his reply as together the pair stand staring at the steel door. Not knowing what awaits them on the other side, Glen reaches across to pull the latch and a moment later Daryl kicks his boot hard against the door, swinging it open with speed and force.

Together they jump into the alley as a gunshot rings through the air. "Where the hell did that come from?" Glen calls to out to the hunter.

"Don't know, but we ain't waiting around to find out! Let's go!"

Sprinting down the alley in the direction of the car, Daryl looks behind him to see that walkers have rounded the far end of the narrow corridor. They are still a good distance away so he doesn't concern himself. Better to push on and get to the car before they meet who-ever shot that gun. It isn't until they are almost back on the street that things fall apart.

A kid no more than fifteen comes barreling full tilt around the corner of the building, running straight at them, and he is followed by half a dozen walkers who are snarling and snapping their jaws. Daryl turns around once more, only to find that the half a dozen walkers at their back are speeding up and gaining ground.

There is no time to think, only act. Daryl fires a clean shot through the head of a corpse as Glen swings the steel bar in his hand. It connects hard in a crushing blow that sends brain matter splattering across the brick, and causes the creature's body to slump to the ground. He then spins around to ram the blunt pole through the open mouth of a hideously disfigured one-armed walker. Her intestines spill out through a hole in her abdomen and the stench is overpowering.

Daryl grabs the strap of Glen's pack, launching it and him out of the way of the new kid who fires off two rounds. The shots take out the two walkers that are now slumped directly behind where Glen was standing. Next, the hunter sails another bolt in the oppisite direction, hitting his target while Glen desperately struggles to find his feet. He stumbles forward, just managing to pull the bolt from the head of the fallen corpse, before turning in time to stab it through the temple of another. It connects with a sickening crunch.

Survival is all that matters now, and so the three men come together to form an outward circle, standing back, to back, to back, so as to have eyes on all sides. Trust in this new person cannot be an issue at the moment.

With no time to reload the crossbow, Daryl kicks one of the walkers back hard against the wall, then pulls his knife to complete the task. Only a few more to go.

Glen is suddenly thrust forward on the pavement, quickly rolling to his back as he fumbles to grab hold of the walker that's now hovering above him. His hands grasp onto the overweight corpse, but slip off the loose decaying flesh at its neck, and he hopes like hell this is not the end.

He glances to Daryl for assistance, but the hunter is busy fighting two walkers simultaneously and doesn't take notice; Cold-cocking one of them with the blunt end of the crossbow, before throwing the weapon to the ground and repeatedly banging the other walker's head against the wall. "No help there," Glen thinks to himself.

He looks to his left, desperate now, only to find that the new kid has lost hold of his gun and is trying to take down a creature with nothing but a switch blade. Glen is on his own.

Knowing in his heart that it's now or never, the Korean takes a deep breath of putrid air, and with his left hand still holding the hulking weight of the walker, releases his right to reach for the knife at his side. His arm is shaking from the strain, as exhaustion paints his face, but in one final burst of energy he pushes the walker higher over his head and leaning forward, thrusts the knife cleanly through its skull. As Glen rolls the walker away, his whole body shakes and he becomes desperate to regain control the tremors that surge up through every nerve in his body.

Using his foot as leverage, Glen pulls the knife out of the rotting flesh and for the first time, takes in the scene around him. The twice dead are scattered about the narrow space, bits of them still clinging to the fabric of their clothes. Daryl drips with blood and sweat, and Glen fights the need to collapse on the ground. Instead both men turn to look at the boy before them.

The kid has just finished placing his gun back in his holster when Daryl roughly snatches the collar of his shirt and pushes him back against the wall.

"Daryl, what the hell man? He just saved our ass!"

"Our ass wouldn't need savin' if it weren't for him." Daryl leans so close to the kid their noses can almost touch. His hair hanging in greasy, sweat soaked strains around his face. His chest heaving from a battle well fought. "We heard shots. Who are you with?" Daryl's voice is thick and hard and heavily laced with mistrust. He doesn't even blink as he stares the kid down.

"No... no... nobody else, honest. I fired the gun."

Before Daryl can take this any futher Glen cuts in, "What's your name?"

"Noah."