Ello! Good to see you again! it's just Liz! Hope you are enjoying the story, and here is le chapterio new-o! I hope you like it! And by the way, I will be posting a soundtrack for this story soon! ~Liz~

Three: Thank you for shopping, and have a nice day

"What's that?" Carl's eyebrows furrow as I carve my knife into the tip of the bullet to make an "X". He watches intently as I shave a little off the sides and wipe the side of the knife on my jeans.

"This makes the bullet narrower. So it'll explode more when you hit something."

"Cool, can I try?" he flips out his knife. It looks like an Epic, but I can't really be sure. I chuckle softly.

"Carl, I'm not sure your mom…"

"It's okay. She won't mind." He smiles. "Please? I wanna try."

I give into his pleading eyes and hand him a lead bullet. "Kay, you press the blade of the knife right here, there you go. Now, make an even X. Right."

He looks up at me with a smile. "You're pretty cool."

I feel my ears flush with hotness, and I look into my lap. Like I said, I'm not really great with kids, and to be truthful, kids aren't really good with me. I spent the entire seven years of my half-brother's life trying to steer clear of him, which worked to an extent. He stopped trying, and found friends. But Carl is different. I actually like him, for some reason, which is strange, because I really have never liked a kid before. Kids are needy; they need attention, they're always complaining, and they always want something from you. But not Carl. He has this innocent feeling to him, and he isn't one of those average kids that take and take from you. I feel differently about him. Strongly about making him my friend. I know I have to earn the trust of the others, but I have if from Carl already. It's just the kid in him, I think.

"Thanks." I say quickly, almost too fast to be a word. "You're alright too, man." I playfully knock him in the shoulder with my knuckles. He smiles, happy to have my approval. It's obvious; he doesn't have any playmates his age, or even friends. I'm the closest to his age, I guess. Beth is already kind of his friend. I guess he just wants to be approved by someone close to his age. It's kind of flattering, actually, how he wants to be my friend. After all, he's only what, twelve?

"Carl?" a voice calls behind us, and we both turn around. We're both sitting on a large tree branch, our legs dangling off of it. It's just at the line of the woods, so always within someone's sight. This is where Carl and I have been hanging out for the past couple of days.

"Yeah, Mom?" he calls to his mother, who is Lori, Rick's wife. She is quite pretty, even without makeup, or fancy stylish clothes.

"Dinner, how about you come up here and eat some?"

"Coming." He slides off the branch, his feet hitting the ground with a thud. "Aren't you coming, Paige?"

"Yeah, coming." I slip my Xed bullets back into my back pocket and hike back up the riff. Lori stops me.

"Paige…"

"Sorry, I know, I shouldn't have let him play around with bullets and stuff, I'm sorry."

"No… it's not that. Carl hasn't really been – happy in a while." It's strange, no one's really been happy. "You've made him happy in a way I haven't seen in a long time."

"I don't know where you're going with this." I adjust my hat, pushing it back on my forehead.

"Thank you." She suddenly hugs me, her arms around my back. She radiates warmth, and though it is a short embrace, I feel a little warmer after. "Carl needed a friend."

I smile slightly. Lori isn't all that bad either. She's raised up a good son. "Carl's a good kid."

"He is… he's been – different since we've been out here. Hardened. I know he'll never have the childhood that we did, but I still want his life to be fulfilling. Even in this world." She sighs, rubbing her hands together for warmth. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved." I rub my stomach through my light coat, the only one I have. I guess I wasn't thinking when I ran for my life when the dead were knocking at my door. I walk back with Lori to the others who are gathered around the hood of an old red truck where some food is set out. I'm not exactly sure, but I think Lori gently pats me on the back. I know I have earned her trust through her son.

"This is all we have?" Daryl's eyebrows furrow slightly at what is left of the food and water. There are a few packs of beef jerky, and a few cans of food. They look like they could be peaches or pears, condiment beans, and corn.

"We're saving the rest for the trip to the Carolinas, and even that isn't enough." Carol, the one with the shorter hair says, crossing her arms and tucking her hands in her elbows to keep them warm. "We'll just have to make do." She looks to Daryl, her eyes stern and telling all. Shut up, Daryl. About time someone told him.

Rick rations the food supply, making sure we all get some, and we sit on the ground to eat. on my plate, I have one pear slice, a spoonful of pinto beans, and a few pieces of beef jerky. Carl sits cross-legged next to me and scarfs his food down like it'll disappear if he doesn't eat it quickly. I'm only just finishing off my pear when he's done.

"Hungry?"

He nods, then looks at his empty plate. I slowly slip him a piece of beef jerky. He starts to shake his head, but I force his hand to close over it. I don't want to make a scene, but I'm not going to let him go hungry. I look up to see three pairs of eyes staring at me. One pair are T-Dog's dark brown ones that look almost black. The other two are Carol and Hershel's, Maggie and Beth's father with white hair and a scruffy face. Each one of them saw me give Carl my own food. T-Dog continues to chew and pretend like he didn't, but I know he did. Hershel looks me straight in the eyes then looks away, but Carol keephs her gaze on me. I don't know what her expression says. Sympathy? Affection? Has something changed between us? I quickly pretend like it never happened and go back to picking at my beans with half of a plastic fork.

Carl smiles at me when I get up to stretch, still chewing. "Where're you going?"

"To find a place to toss this. Drink the rest of this." I hand him my cup of water that is still halfway full and walk towards the truck. I find an old plastic bag in the bed of the truck and shove my plate into it, sitting on the opened hatch of the truck, dangling my feet. I watch my breath freeze in the air as I feel the truck slightly shake from the weight of another person. I look up to yell at Carl to get back with the others, but it is Maggie.

"I saw you give your food to Carl."

I press my palms to the bed of the truck. "Great, so you saw it too…"

"You're not all hard. I know you aren't. I've seen Carl follow you around like you're some mentor or something. He looks up to you."

"Why, next thing you know he'll be slicing you too." I kick my feet harder, like if I do, somehow I can make the truck move like a boat in the water with oars. Maggie actually chuckles.

"No… but I really did see you slip him your food. You try to put up this 'hunter, lone-wolf' façade, but it doesn't work forever." She swings her legs like mine. "You're not the only one who needs someone to lean on."

"You have Glenn, though."

"You have Carl now."

I hop down from the truck bed. "I don't have anyone."

"As much as you deny it, you do." She puts her hands on her prominent hips, her lips pursing. "And I know you see Carl that way."

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't."

"It's been two days, and you already care for him."

"Yeah, I do."

"Think about it." She walks away back to the group. I stare out at the woods, thinking about running, being myself again. That loner, just trying to make it to that safe haven that I know in my heart does exist. Then I look back to the others. Together, on the ground in a circle, eating condiments and drinking old bottled water. I look at Carl looking at me, waiting for me to return. He doesn't want me to leave.

I turn towards them, walking back and taking my seat. This is my group, now. My people. And they accept me as part of that now. And so do I. I accept that I will protect any one of them with my life, as much as I want to embrace my runner-self. Carol smiles at me, and I smile back; something I hardly do.

Daryl was right about the food supply being low. About our second day on the road, my stomach feels so hallow that it feels like it's been ripped out and replaced with an empty jar. It usually wouldn't take days like this to get to the Carolinas from Georgia, but we are forced to slowly inch our way along the highways, sometimes only stopping to syphon gas and turn around because the roads are jammed with cars. Within the first day, we use up most of our supply of food, and there is only water left by midmorning. Even that is scarce.

"What do we do?" Carol huddles close to me, wrapping her light jacket tighter around her. We've just finished syphoning gas out of the cars that block our path yet again. The roads to Atlanta were pretty clear, but backups to South Carolina seem to be a bigger problem.

"Wasn't there a big store a way back? I think I saw it." Glenn pipes up, inching his arm around Maggie. We all look horrible and exhausted. We've barely eaten in days, and the water situation isn't too good either.

I recall seeing the store as well. The parking lot was mostly deserted , and it was nestled in the rock and trees like it didn't belong there. It was night when we drove past, so I didn't get a good look. I recall this because Beth had been sleeping against me, who apparently shares the same talking-in-her-sleep like her sister, so I couldn't sleep.

"It wouldn't hurt to check things out." T-Dog pants, his breath ice in the air, like a miniature smokestack. "We need food, water…"

"Warmer clothes." Lori adds as Carl huddles in his jacket, shivering. "We can't afford to lose gas running the cars for warmth."

"Walkers probably own the place." Daryl spits on the ground, wearing only a long-sleeved shirt. He doesn't seem to be affected much by the cold. "How many rounds we got left?"

"Not much." I retort, holding up my back of ammo, shaking it. "Only what I have." Which is not enough. Daryl shrugs his shoulders.

"How much you got?" he turns to Glenn, who checks his gun.

"Six rounds, and this." He pulls his hooked machete out of its leather sheath.

"I have my knife too." I pat the old leather pouch I keep on my hip.

"So it's settled, we'll go back to the store. Even if just to check it out." Rick clears his throat and sniffs.

"Wait, you aren't just going to leave us here." Carol interjects. "We're all going, what if something happens."

Rick retorts, pacing back and forth. I've noticed that he does this a lot when he is thinking. "Everyone armed. No one without a weapon… we need all the protection we can get. We have each other's backs, and no one without a partner. Understand?" he looks directly at Carl, who nods, sticking close to Lori's side, huddling in his jacket.

"Come on, back in the car." Lori pushes him by his back, and he climbs back into the seat. I put my hand on Beth's back gently and push her towards the truck. Hershel pats his hand on my shoulder and follows us back to the vehicle as well. I already like Hershel… he's that kind of hardened old man that looks so cute on the outside, but really isn't afraid to cuss you out on the outside, then chew out his twenty-two-year-old daughter for swearing. I've heard him mutter 'watch your mouth' to Maggie more than once.

We slide back into the car and buckle, Hershel in the front passenger side, and Beth and I in the back. As T-Dog slides into the front seat, I catch the reflection of myself in the side mirror on the door. My face is streaked with smudges of dirt and my hairline has a slight receding layer of dirt that looks like I've been rubbed in the dirt for hours. It's been a while since I saw myself, and the sight almost scares me. I'd prefer not to see myself again. That is not the person I knew last time I saw her.

"What's wrong?" Beth asks in her soft voice that is at least an octave higher than mine. Not too high, but my voice has always been low for a girl's. Maybe that is why some people mistake me for a teenage boy going through puberty.

"Nothing." I smile slightly at her, and she covers her mouth with her elbow to cough. It kinda worries me, because it isn't just a regular cold-cough, it is deep and rattling. I've been listening to her cough for the past two nights in the car, but it seemed harmless until now when it makes me flinch it is so deep. "You okay?"

She takes a deep breath. "Yeah. Let's just go."

I shrug and lean my head against the window, leaning my gun against my knee. Hershel loads a few rounds in his gun from my ammo bag, and T-Dog starts the wreck up again, doing a u-turn, following the green Hyundai.

Glenn is right. There is a store, an old WalMart straight off of the highway. We park the cars far enough away from the parking lot, so if need be, we can make it back to them out of harm's way, but far enough away that we can go inconspicuously without the rotties noticing us. Rick says they're attracted to sound, I guess I never noticed before. I thought it was always just the smell of flesh, but I could be wrong.

I let my gun down and duck behind a few abandoned cars. There are too many of the rot-heads for me to count. All they're doing is roaming around aimlessly, not even noticing if they bump into each other. Groans and moans create a tapestry of eerie background music as Rick speaks in a hushed voice.

"We'll all fight our way in together."

"You can't be crazy, we're not going in there!" I hiss under my breath. "You know how many of them there are! We can't fight them off ourselves! Won't there be more on the inside?"

"You'd be surprised." Daryl snorts, loading his crossbow with a feathered arrow. "They got no reason to get inside, yeah? Why break down doors if there ain't any people inside? Common sense…"

I roll my eyes. "We're just going to fight our way in, then? That's the grand plan?"

"What else do we have?" Glenn says, cocking his Mossberg with his left hand.

"And besides, we need supplies. Food, water, clothes…" Carol says. I guess I have no other choice.

"Alright, everyone needs to pay close attention. We're going in as a group, and out as a group. No one is left alone, and everyone is armed at all times. If you are to get separated, don't leave the building on your own. Never leave on your own unless absolutely necessary. Use your knives, not your guns. We need to save ammo as much as possible."

"We just gotta fight our way back in and out. Ain't no way they're gonna get in after us. See those doors?" Daryl points towards the side doors that from what I can tell have handles. "In through those, and then we'll lock them. Then we can probably get back out through the back. Ain't no walkers gonna get in once we're in."

"Carl, with me at all times." Lori looks her son down in the eyes, her expression stern. Glenn kisses Maggie once on the forehead, and Daryl gives Carol a look that says "If you don't keep yourself self, I might have to beat you later", though I know he wouldn't really. They have a strange relationship I can't explain, not even begin to understand. Carl brushes my shoulder.

"Be careful." I tell him, sliding my knife out of its hip sheath.

"I know." He says as I pat him on top of the hat. His Epic is flipped out in his hand, and he wears a determined expression.

"Everyone, within proximity. Always have someone near. Once we're all in, we can barricade." Rick says as I rise up halfway from my crouch. I've never fought so many of them before, even with Petey. The herd of them is thick, a crowd of gray and the smell of rotting flesh. Horrible stench fills the air as I leap into the crowd along with the others.

The first one I kill is the first one that comes at me. It stumbles over like a deranged Frankenstein, shoes scuffling on the pavement, over the yellow lines of the parking spaces. I plunge my knife deep into its skull with a sickening hallow and squish sound. I push my way through a few of them, still clutching to my rifle just in case. For some reason, I remember my father never liked me shooting a rifle. I couldn't have been more than ten or eleven when my grand dad taught me how to shoot. It took me a while to get used to the kick of his two-barrel gunner, but the one I have now doesn't have much of one.

Dad always used to say that I should be more into dolls and coloring like other girls my age, but no, I was too into going shootin' with grand dad. He was a softened old man with a beard to make his complexion even softer, with robin egg blue eyes. In fact, Hershel kind of reminded me of him a little bit.

"Uuuuuunnnnhh!" one of them tries to grab me, and panicking in the moment, I thrust out my knife and stab it in the chest. It staggers back and I shoot the gap and run. Why do the doors seem so far away! Damn it!

I fight my way through half of them, running almost purely on adrenaline, slicing rotty after rotty. Two of them grab for me out of nowhere, and I scream, slicing one so hard that their arm starts to dangle. It is already falling off to begin with, and I duck under the arms of the other one and sprint for the doors of the store, following Maggie as she bolts as well. I grab a stray shopping cart that has been long tipped over and slightly rusted as I run, using it to ram the rotties out of the way. Feeling as if I will burst with adrenaline and the rush, I throw myself into the lobby of the doorway, holding the door behind me. T-Dog, Rick and Daryl are fighting off the few that have realized that we're inside now and are trying to get to the doors as well. Until everyone is inside, T-Dog, Daryl, and Rick continue this.

I pull my shirt away from my chest, feeling swat forming between my breasts as I take note of the shape that everyone is in. Carl is panting against the wall with blood on his shirt, spattered on his face, and Glenn has splotches of blood on him as well. Hershel is panting so hard it sounds like he is going to keel over any minute, and Beth has gone into a coughing fit, her breath wheezy and short. Rick and Daryl lock the main doors, the gigantic bolts sliding into place, and they pant as well.

Carl actually runs and hugs me. "What?" I ask, looking down at him. A line of sweat drips down from under his hat.

"You're okay." He smiles.

"Of course." I pat his hat and go to open the door of the indoor entrance. "After you." I hold the door for each of them, then walk in myself. The store is littered with merchandise on the ground, scattered and unevenly spread like a small tornado could have gone through here. It is quiet, deserted, besides the groans and hungry yells coming from outside as they press themselves against the glass like children outside a toy store.

It looks almost untouched, like none of the merchandise has been picked over. I pick up a blue plastic basket with the faded white letters painted "WalMart", and start down an aisle. "I'm going to look down here."

"I'll go with you." Beth follows me. Funny how a couple of days in the car with someone can bring you closer together. I guess I can call Beth my friend. We're within the same age, and we sleep against each other every night. Her boots click on the ground as we head down an aisle, stepping over the merchandise and debris on the floor. A horrible smell enters my nose, and i make a face as I step over a carton of spilled milk that has turned into fermented, spoiled cheese on the floor. A few other broken cartons litter the aisle as well, and I'm careful not to step on the white, chocolate, and strawberry rotten custard that was once milk on the tile.

"Oh, yuck." I plug my nose and let Beth hold my arm so she doesn't slip in the crud. It's in milky, podgy puddles, and is slippery like butter. She covers her hand over her mouth and begins coughing again. Again, I am startled by it. It isn't loud or obnoxious, but still, it is quite startling.

"Hey, hey, hold on a second." I put my hand on her back as she leans against a miss-matched row of stuffed animals, some of which have stuffing falling out of them. She coughs into the crook of her elbow and puts the other hand over her chest. I feel her ribcage rattle as I hold her straight, her breaths deep as she struggles for air. "Hold on," I leave her for a moment and paw through the aisle of knocked-over drinks a few lanes over and return with a bottle of water for her. She tries to open it but her hands shake with tremors, so I do it for her. She takes it graciously and drinks about half before she can get the cough under control.

"Thanks." She nods, sipping more.

"You alright? That isn't a good cough." I shake my head.

"I'll be fine. I get asthma sometimes… it comes and goes. It usually happens in the fall like this." She runs her fingers backwards though her hair, tucking the loose pieces of her ponytail back. Just in case, I keep my hands sort of hovering behind her as we explore the aisles, so if need be, I can catch her again. She doesn't cough much again, not like a moment ago, so I stop worrying.

We paw through the aisle, and surprisingly, some of them are still intact like on your average day in WalMart. Beth picks up a tube of pink lip gloss, tearing off the plastic wrapping over the cap and unscrewing it. "I always loved the smell." She smiles warmly, closing her eyes and holding the applicator under her nose. I notice a reddened mark on her left wrist. I've seen a scar like this before. Quietly, I push my coat back to peak at my own scar that is alike, though faded and white.

"Paige? Paige, open up, you don't want to do this!" Petey yells, his voice urgent. "Open up, please!"

"Leave me be, damn it! Leave me the fuck alone, this isn't your decision, Petey!" I scream, fumbling in the bathroom for something to use. I find a sharp pair of nail scissors in the broken-mirrored cabinet, pulling my shirt back. "I wanna go, Petey!"

"I'm breaking down the door!"

Slit. I barely feel the pain on my right wrist as I slice into my skin, feeling the hot blood spilling over like some sick form of rain.

"You okay?" Beth says, her voice calling me back to reality. I pull my sleeve back over my wrist.

"I'm fine, come on, let's get back to looking."

She nods and I follow her down the aisle of other beauty products. Shampoos, conditioners and soaps, some knocked over on the floor and a few in the back still on the shelves. Powder makeup paints the floor as well, along with spilled and dried bronzers and finishers. The tiles are swirled in a vast land of color and spilled beauty products, it almost looks deliberate, like a collage. Beth leans down and picks up a small bottle of nail polish, running her thumb over the tiny black letters that say the name of the color, alligator purse, which is a deep brownish-maroon.

"I used to love to paint my nails." She smiles, looking at her own nails. She's the kind of person to have nice nails that she doesn't even bite. Mine happen to be the exact opposite – dirt caked under the shortened stubs of nails. Somehow, she manages to keep them clean. She leans down and picks up another color. Cobalt blue. She smiles. "This was my favorite color to paint them. I had a bottle of this at home."

I shrug. "Keep it." Her eyes roll to me and back to the tiny bottle. I shrug again. "Not like anyone has money anymore."

She smiles and tucks it safely into her messenger bag. I nod and smile back at her. "Come on, let's go find some clothes. I can't stand these same old ones anymore." I've been wearing the same three pairs of underwear for the entire time since the dead started walking again. Not to mention I wouldn't mind a new pair of pants. Mine are a little pathetic, ripped and the band keeping them up ripped out. The only thing really holding them up is the rope around my waist and a piece of electrical tape.

Carol and Lori are already pawing through the clothing selection. I don't blame them, their clothes aren't in better shape than mine. Carl sits on top of a display with a sign for buy two pairs of jeans get one half off, eating a box of crackers.

"Carl, come try this on." Lori holds up a new shirt for him, and he groans.

"Mom…"

"Come on, mister." She sighs and shakes the shirt on the hanger. "I'm waiting."

He grumps and slides down from the display, pulling the shirt on after pulling his other one off. I smile. "Looking sharp, Carl." And head over to more of my section of clothing. Beth lingers close, picking herself out some new clothes. I pick myself out a few new shirts, one of which being an emerald green button-up with cut-off sleeves at the elbows, pulling on a new t shirt on under it. It feels nice to have new fabric on my skin, instead of the usual threadbare fabric of my old shirt. The jeans I find fit me snuggly, and I take another pair in my size, tucking them in my bag. Next I shed my jacket that is ripped and torn, picking out a brown leather coat with a soft, warm padding inside. It seems so strange to just be taking clothes, but the whole "money" system doesn't really exist anymore, does it?

"Beth, I'll be over here." I call, and she nods, a few shirts folded over her arm. I wander into the footwear section where I can still have my eye on Beth so we're not alone, as being caught alone is not a good thing. Pulling out boxes until I find my size, I pull on a new pair of brown leather boots with ties in the back, leaving my beat-up boots to fend for themselves. Ironically, they fit perfectly. I always asked for a pair of boots like these, but my mother always said that they were much too expensive, and I never got them. On the floor, I find a pair of gloves; the kind that has the mitten part buttoned back and fingers that are half cut off.

Looking in the side-mirror of a nearby dressing room, I check out my new get-up, fanning my hair that is tangled under my cap. I've always sort of rocked the homeless look, but who can be picky in the apocalypse? My reflection isn't so bad now, not as bad as it was in the mirror a while ago. Maybe half of it was the horrible clothes.

"What do you think?" I return to Beth, who smooths a new softened blue shirt over her stomach. She smiles.

"It's nice. Think you could help me get some new shoes?" her eyes trail down to her boots that have bits of leather peeling away. I take her back to where I found my new boots, and she chooses a new pair of black boots with buckles at the sides.

"Might as well get a couple of extras. I don't hate anything more than wet feet." I check the sizes and shove a pair of red converse into my bag, along with a new package of socks. We head back to Lori, Carol, and Carl. Carl is still stuck modeling new shirts.

"Don't you look nice." Carol smiles slightly at us when she sees our new clothes.

"Come on, Carl, wanna go look for some food or something?" I ask, trying to save him from trying on any more clothes.

"Can I go, Mom?" he pleads, picking his sheriff's hat off the floor and plopping it back on his head again. Lori sighs, considering.

"Listen to Paige and Beth, and no fooling around, alright?"

"Thanks!" Carl sprints away from the "catwalk" so fast that I have to catch him. Beth puts her arm around him and we walk him to the aisle of abandoned food. I rip open a bag of Cheetos and pop two at a time into my mouth. They're a little bit stale, but it's been so long since I've had luxury food. Carl chugs a bottle of Kool Aid in less than a minute, tossing the carton on the ground with a laugh.

"Now I remember why I never drank Kool Aid… it tastes like fermented artificial raspberry." He smirks.

"Yet, you drank it anyway." I smile and kick his bottle away out of the aisle. "Beth, are you okay?" I notice her leaning against the wall of chips and drinks, rubbing her hand over her chest.

"Fine." She notices us watching, ceasing her rubbing. "Just… cough… it kind of hurts to cough." As if on a timer to her words, she coughs deeply again, into her arm, then rubs her chest again, moaning softly.

"Here." I hand her another water out of a case halfway falling off the shelf, uncapping it for her again. "Drink that."

She takes a tiny sip as I tuck a few waters in my bag. "Thanks."

"Let's go look for some Tylenol or something for you." I put my hand on her back gently and push her down the aisle, and finally find the aisle with the hanging sign that says "pharmacy". Rick and T-Dog are already raiding the behind-the-counter products.

"Damn, girl. You clean up nice." T-Dog shrugs while reading the label of a safety-capped bottle.

"Thanks." I duck down the aisle and curse. "Shit." The bottles are littering the floor, all mixed up. We crouch down. "Okay, look for pain killers or something."

After a few minutes of looking, Beth uncaps a bottle and takes a few tiny red pills, washing them down with the rest of the water. I pocket the bottle of pills for later.

"Can we go look at backpacks?" Carl asks as I pull him to his feet. "I need a new one."

"Yeah, sure. Beth, you coming with us, or staying with them?" I refer to T-Dog and Rick, still picking which medicines will be the most useful. Beth follows us to the camping supplies, where the backpacks most likely are. As we paw amongst the supplies, I hear a shuffling noise from the aisle over. "SHIT." I swear under my breath, forcing Connor to the floor. Beth it in the opposite aisle across from us, and I hiss to her quietly as I keep Carl down. "Beth! BETH! Down!" I try to say quietly, and she looks up to the aisle where the stray walker is wandering. She gasps and hits the floor, ducking low. The guy, who looks like he would have worked here before the world went to shit, grunts low in his chest and scuffles his loafers on the floor. His name tag clip jingles, and from here I can read hello, my name is Martin. He turns after a moment, starting to scuffle back the other way. Just as soon as he gets far enough away, I'll take care of him.

Carl's breath is harsh as I try and calm my breathing so Martin doesn't hear, but my ears snap to attention as I hear a cough. Beth gasps, trying to take in air and cover her mouth at the same time. She clamps her palm over her lips, but her body forces her to cough. Martin starts to turn back around, attracted to the sound like Rick told me, his chin turned towards the sound of Beth's painful-sounding coughing. To my horror, a few other rotters come from around the corner, stumbling and groaning. They may have been in the break room, packed together after months of being trapped in here. Beth tries to shut herself up, but they've already heard us. And smelled us.

I yank Carl to his feet and Beth follows as we run down the aisle, our feet sliding on the tiles like those old movies where they run around the corner, slide, then advance the other way. I can hear the pack of them behind us, and I grab Beth and Carl by their wrists, yanking them into an aisle with debris littering the ground. We maneuver is with more ease than them, and I aim for the back doors. Beth holds her chest as we run, still coughing up a storm, and I pull Carl in zig-zags across the aisle, the groans and hungry yells behind us enough to keep us going.

"This way!" I yell, almost feeling the fingers of rotten walkers on my shoulder as I yank open the back doors to the employee lounge. One of them grabs hold of Beth's blonde hair and she screams as it pulls. "HOLD STILL!" I yell, whacking it in the head with the butt of my gun. It stumbles back and lets go, and we have enough time to run. We sprint down the hallway to the employee exit, our feet clicking on the tile as a few walkers make their way after us. We fling ourselves out the door into the zombie-infested back parking lot, their starving faces deprived of nutrition.

"This way!" Beth screams, pulling me towards a silver Subaru, and we dive in through the doors that are, thank god, unlocked.

"Look for keys!" I scream as they pound at the windows, trying to break through the glass to get to us. Carl, breathing hard, frantically looks under the seat, and I check the glove box as Beth checks the middle compartment. I throw Beth a jingling pair of keys and she shoves them in the ignition. "DRIVE!" I scream at her. She tries to get the car to go, but it won't start.

"It's not starting!" she screams, knowing that, indeed, we are very much trapped.

"Carl, you stay with us, do you hear me? Stay with us, open on three!" I scream over the yells and guttural noises from outside, cocking my gun. "ONE! TWO! THREE!" I shove the door open, shooting the first one I see, and blood splatters the pavement as he falls. I grab Carl by the wrist so I don't lose him, holding him in front of me by the shoulders so he isn't behind me. If anyone gets bit, it will be me, not Carl, or Beth. They are part of my group, and I will protect them. "Go for the woods!" I scream, seeing a smaller herd of zombies coming at us from the road, making the cars out of the question. Beth grabs Carl and I turn around, aiming my gun at the closest one. I shoot it down, the son of a bitch falling on his face "dead" as if it weren't dead already. I turn back around and follow Beth and Carl towards the woods, the WalMart having been nestled where the woods had been cleared out to build it when the world wasn't overrun.

Beth begins wheezing as we run, her cough airy and breathless as I keep my hand on Carl's shoulder and run, ensuring that he does not trip. Beth grabs for my hand, and I grip onto it tightly, not letting go. "I'm not going to let you go." I pant, sweat dripping down the collar of my new brown jacket as my breath freezes in the air, sending pinpricks of icy pain as I breathe in. She nods, sibilating with labored breath and coughing, and Carl and I take her hands, pulling her into the darkness.

They keep coming. Out of nowhere. Carl, Beth, and I fight them off for as long as we can until there are only one or two following us, and we are absolutely exhausted. Especially Beth, because now she is worse, her breathing heavy and abnormal. We pull out onto a road, my new boots hitting pavement, and I shove Beth and Carl forward, screaming and shoving a knife in the skull of the walker advancing towards us. Carl gets the other one, and I shoot the one that is far off. When it seems like there are no more following us, and I've completely run out of energy, I walk for the first time in what seems like hours.

"Carl, ev-ev-everything okay?" I check him over, pulling him close to me. He pants heavily, his skin icy besides his ears which are pink and war, and his neck covered in sweat. He hugs me tightly and I press my chin to his hair, tucking his head under my chin for the hug. I smooth my stubby nails on his back gently for a moment and check to see if Beth is alright.

"You're quivering." I observe, pressing the back of my hand to her cheek. "Oh God, you're warm…" why the fuck is she so warm? I feel Carl again to make sure I'm not just making a mountain out of a molehill. He's sweaty, but not burning hot like he has a pinkened sunburn. I feel my own skin, which naturally feels cold to the touch, but I feel so hot I might just strip right here.

"I'm c-c-cold." She shivers, sticking her hands in her armpits to warm them. She starts to cough again, the rattling sound deep in her chest, and with my hand on her back, I feel a murmuring rasp, a drum in her chest that is her quickened heart rate.

"Take a deep breath." I tell her, and she does, wincing. "You okay?"

"Hurts. Feels like pins and needles in my ribs if I breathe too hard." She shivers and I pull her arm around me, letting her lean.

"We need to find a place for the night."

"We're not going back?" Carl asks with surprise. "What about my mom and dad? What if the rest of the group are hurt?"

"He's right." Beth rasps, trying to unsuccessfully catch her breath. "What about the others? My dad and sister are still there. What if there were more walkers?"

"You know you're not going anywhere like this. Carl…" I really hate to see that look on his face. "We'll just find someplace safe to spend the night, and then we'll find our way back. I don't even know where we are. It's dark. I don't know the trail."

He nods halfheartedly but listens. "Okay." And repositions his hat. "I'll help you." He take Beth's other arm and lets her put it around his shoulders, as she has her other around mine.

"Thanks Carl." She smiles slightly as we make our way down the seemingly deserted road.

It's pure luck that we find the van. It is deserted in the middle of nowhere, on the side of the road. It looks to me like a GM APV, by the slanted hood most of all. I jam the locked door with my knife and silence the car alarm after popping the hood. There are a few decaying bodies inside, but they are human, so Carl and I drag them out as Beth leans huddled in her jacket against the car door.

"I think they'll be fine out here." I tell Carl after he helps me drag them into the woods a ways. He nods, and we get back to the van. There are three rows of seats on the inside, and a few suitcases are loaded into the back like the people who died inside were running. I guess they never got where they were going, but I am thankful for their van. There are a few raggedy blankets in the back that look as if they might have been sitting in the back of the car before the suitcases, and one of the seats was torn out as well. I unlock the doors to the car so we can't lock ourselves in, and take Beth's hand to help her into the vehicle.

"That's it, nice and slow." I grab her as she topples. "Whoa, careful. I got you. Step up. Duck your head. Come on in, Carl, it's fine in here now." Besides the slight smell of death, but it's hardly noticeable. "Here, lie down here." I lower her down to one of the seats and take her bag from her, letting it drop to the floor. "Do you want some water?"

She nods, sweat glistening at her neck. I pull a bottled water out of my bag and unscrew the cap for her, holding my hand out as she sips it, because it looks like she might drop it. Thankfully, she doesn't, and I take it from her shaking hand. I lay my rifle down on the floor of the van and give Carl his own bottle of water. I count four of them. The one I gave Beth, the one I just gave Carl, and the one I take a sip from now, along with the other in my bag.

"We sleep here tonight. Try and go back tomorrow." I stretch out, resting in the front seat as Carl takes the back. "Get some rest."

"Night, Paige." Carl stretches out on the seats, taking his hat off.

"Yeah… night, buddy." I gulp, trying to hold myself together.