The group spent a few days preparing for the run to Atlanta, gathering supplies that may be necessary to get around safely. They took some of the baseball bats and packed them in the cars to use against the sick people, which confused me. I didn't understand why they were killing them. Maybe they really didn't have a choice. I had gotten past them fine through hiding and running, I couldn't judge what they had to do.

T-Dog asked Dale if he could borrow some of his tools in case they came across any useful parts or something. Dale didn't want to lend any of his tools, I could tell by the look on his face when he was asked, but T-Dog assured him that he would bring all the tools back in the same condition.

The sun was blazing down that day. I sat under the awning outside the motorhome, which was the only thing that could provide any shade at noon. As a distraction from the uncomfortable heat, I tried reading the book. Still, I could barely focus on the words without feeling nauseous. Instead, I opted to lay on the ground in the shade and covered my eyes with my arms.

Crunching in the dirt made me uncover my eyes, and I glanced over to see who it was. Shane entered a motorhome with a walkie-talkie clipped to his belt, and a huge clear container in his hands. It looked like it was filled with electrical parts, smaller tools and wires.

Curiosity took over him, and I decided to follow him. I shoved the book in my yellow bag, and chased after him. He sat down at a table, placing the box on the ground next to him then grabbed the radio from his belt and started unscrewing the shell.

"What are you doing?"

My eyebrows furrowed together. "What are you doing?"

Shane kept his eyes down, focusing on the radio until the shell was completely taken apart. "I am modifying this walkie to communicate with the CB, so if anything goes wrong in Atlanta, the group will be able to contact us."

I felt my head tilt to the side. "You can do that?"

"Well, this is normally illegal, but I think that under these circumstances, it should be fine."

Illegal?

I didn't understand why a radio couldn't communicate with a CB. Actually the first time I heard that they couldn't talk with each other. Shane seemed to know what he was doing, but I was still upset with him from the other day. However, I was interested in working on a radio again. Maybe if I knew what he was doing, I could use some of the skills to fix my own walkie.

Pursing my lips, I thought carefully about my next decision. "Can you show me how to do that?"

Shane seemed a little surprised that I'd asked. He probably assumed that I wouldn't be interested. It would be a fair assumption if he didn't already know about me wanting to fix my radio.

"Yeah, take a seat."

Part of me expected him to say no, but I was glad he didn't.

"This is difficult, mind you," he said with a slight grin on his face, "you sure you wanna learn?"

I internally rolled my eyes at him. I think I'll be fine. I only nodded in reply and shuffled to the front of the seat to get a better look at the radio.

"See now, the aim is to get the radio working on the same frequency as the CB, which is around twenty-seven megahertz," Shane explained, sliding the radio over so I could see what he was talking about.

He pointed to different parts of the circuit board and radio, explaining how each part worked and what he would be doing to modify them. He would reach inside a clear plastic box every so often—pulling out random electrical or metal pieces he would need for the modification.

It seemed like a lot of work, but I knew it would be a useful experience, so I listened. Part of me wondered if my dad knew how to do this or would think to modify his radio to communicate with a CB. He was good at tinkering, but I doubt he would consider it an option. The house we hid in didn't have a CB, and I was still there as far as he knew.

"Now, if you connect these together, it will lower the frequency the radio uses and can talk to the CB," Shane continued, putting two pieces together as a demonstration.

I frowned. "But how do you connect them?"

"I'll show you," he reached inside the clear plastic box, pulling out two copper wires with the insulation stripped back from the ends and a reel of solder. He twisted them together and heated the ends of the wires with a plastic lighter. "You heat the ends of these wires up, which will get hot enough to melt the solder."

"And that works the same as a soldering iron?" I questioned.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Wanna try?"

I nodded, still a little confused as to how it worked. Shane moved the radio to face me and handed me a reel of solder, and the two wires twisted together.

"Careful now," he instructed, carefully watching my hands. "Don't want you burning yourself."

Shane leaned back in his seat a little, realising that I was safe enough, but still kept a cautious eye on what I was doing.

"How do you know how to do this?"

"Partly from work," He answered first but continued after a pause, "my ol' man taught me the rest. He taught me this, I think. Made sure I knew how to fix things myself before I moved out, then I wouldn't have to call him up if I needed anything."

Shane talking about his father only reminded me of mine. I'm a hundred percent sure that my dad taught me to fix cars so I wouldn't keep calling him up when I needed anything.

But this nagging feeling came into the back of my head when the thought of my dad, and how he wasn't here. I couldn't stop myself from talking before the words had already come out.

"I know you think he's dead."

I almost thought I would have to clarify that I was talking about my father. Still, after a second of thought, Shane seemed to understand what I was talking about.

"It's a possibility, but I have hope. Everything that's happened . . . A lot of people died, but we made it. There's reason to believe he did too."

I kept my head down and tried to avoid any eye contact he was making. I knew that if I looked at him, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from crying. I just tried my best to focus on the radio as much as possible.

One thing I liked about Shane is that he never usually lied, at least not to me. Even if I was angry that he made me leave the one connection to my dad, I appreciated the honesty.

"I may not be providing you the best support," he started, his arms resting on the table, "but I'm trying. I need you to know that. We've been cut off from the outside world and the wait kills me. We have no idea what's happening anywhere else, and no way of knowing until the military or anyone comes this way. It makes it hard to keep hope alive, but it's there. I haven't lost it."

Dropping the reel of solder, I lifted my hand to wipe my eyes. I sniffed and picked up the radio to take a closer look. "I think it's done."

Shane seemed to take the message and stopped talking about my dad. Instead. he grabbed the radio from my hands. "It's a little messy, but it'll do the trick."

He grabbed the pieces and started putting them back together. He turned it on when he was finished, making sure it was still working, before pressing some of the buttons and twisting the knob before speaking again.

"Okay, let's see if it works with the CB," he placed the radio back in my hands, "wait here, and press this button to speak."

He pointed at a button on the side of the radio before leaving the motorhome and walked over to the CB that was sitting on a log stump in the centre of camp. He kneeled down and grabbed the handheld device on the CB.

"Hello, hello," Shane's voice came through the walkie.

I held in the button as Shane instructed. "Is it working?"

His voice came back, followed by a quiet white noise. "It sure is, can you hear me alright?"

"Yeah," I answered.

"That's great," Shane said through the CB.

Pride was rushing through my body, and I couldn't stop the smile from spreading over my face. It reminded me of when my dad started teaching me new things, like changing a tire or welding.

There was a click where Shane switched the radio off, and he stood up and walked back into the motorhome where I was still sitting at the table.

Shane reached on the table and started to clear away all the items. I held the radio up for him to take, to which he smiled and took the device from my hand. He clipped it onto the belt again before grabbing the clear plastic box.

"I mean it, you did great, kid."

I smiled at him.

When I finished helping Shane modify the radios, I spent the afternoon in my tent. I couldn't be bothered to read, so I just laid down on the blankets in silence. I missed my home, my school, and the workshop. Before all this happened, I was so busy. It was a huge change for me to go from that to just sitting here in a tent doing nothing.

I hated it.

How I spent my time now was listening to the sound of the footsteps that walked past the tent. A shadow cast through the fabric wall, and for a second, the person just stood there. It was definitely a man, I could tell that for a fact, but I didn't know who. The front of my tent shook when they reached out and nudged it with their hands.

I frowned, but didn't call out. I didn't have to, because Merle spoke first.

"Girlie, you in there?"

Don't answer!

"Yes?"

Good job, I thought to myself sarcastically. Confusion quickly took over, I know I didn't do anything this time, so he shouldn't be here to yell at me again.

I sat up and crawled out of the tent, lifting the flap cautiously.

Merle smiled, which scared me. I think it was a smile at least. He nodded his head in the direction of his segregated section of camp.

"C'mon."

I frowned at him, pushing myself off the ground and out of the tent. "Why?"

This seems like a trap.

"Jus' do as I say."

Definitely a trap.

"Oh. . . kay?" My voice got higher at the end.

Against my better judgement, I followed him. He was acting nicer than last we spoke, more normal. He didn't say a word as he led me back to his camp, the bike sitting next to a log where I left it. All the tools were cleared away.

I stared at Merle, waiting for him to say what he wanted.

"I want ya to tell me how ya fixed it."

"Why?" I questioned.

"In case it happens again," he answered, nodding down to the bike.

It didn't sound like the real reason, but I doubted that I would get any form of truth out of him. There was no way he wanted me to tell him what was wrong with the bike. The quicker I answered, the quicker I could go back to my tent and read my book.

I explained what I did with a vague answer. "The diodes in the alternator had corroded, so I cleaned them. Dale had some rust remover, so I used some of that."

"Shit," he muttered to himself, kneeling by his bike. "Thought it might be that."

Sure you did.

"Well," I started, wanting to leave as soon as possible. "You have fun with that."

"How'd you know all this shit, anyways?" Merle asked before I could leave.

I stopped with my back facing him and rolled my eyes. "I told you already," I stated, turning around. "My dad's a mechanic; he taught me all that shit. I work in his garage after school and in the holidays. He kept saying I should know how, so I wouldn't bug him all the time."

"Smart man," Merle commented.

"I also fixed something similar not long ago," I continued, looking at the bike. "What is it, anyway? A 1974 Triumph?"

"'76," Merle corrected, crossing his arms as he looked at the bike. "Close, though."

"Yeah, I'm better with cars," talking about bikes made me forget that I wanted to leave, and I just stared at the bike for a second.

Before I could try and make another escape, I heard footsteps behind me. Daryl walked back, squirrels hung over his shoulder by a piece of string. I had to turn away, wincing at the little animals that he'd killed. He gave me a confused look as he set the crossbow on the ground.

"I'm just as confused as you are," I assured him.

"The hell is this?" He asked, looking at Merle.

It's confusing is what it is.

Merle nudged my arm with his elbow. "Jus' having a lil' chat, aren't we?"

My face scrunched in confusion. "I . . . I guess?"

Daryl just stared at me, the frown not leaving his face. When he had decided to stop questioning the new scenario, he unclipped his holstered knife and dropped it on the ground where he planned on sitting.

Merle also sat down on the ground, leaning back on the log. "How come your dad ain't 'ere?"

Daryl shifted in his seat, his back straightening. He kept his eyes down, though, and he grabbed the knife, twiddling it in his hands. Part of me even wondered if he would even listen.

I slowly sat down on the ground opposite him. Merle probably had some more questions, and I didn't want to just stand around.

Again, I answered. "My dad went on a run, but my radio broke when I was speaking to him. I tried fixing it, but it needs a new circuit board, and I haven't been able to find the right one."

I didn't have to say the exact words, they knew. He didn't make it back.

Merle had never been so chatty with anyone in the group, so I couldn't help wondering why he kept asking me all these questions. I pushed it to the back of my mind, though. The lack of pity he gave when I answered was a cold, yet nice, change.

Daryl reached back over the log, pulling the string of squirrels he caught with him. He grabbed the knife he dropped on the ground and held it up to the squirrel.

"Hey, girlie—"

I interrupted him. "My name is Ace."

Daryl's eyes shot up but immediately went back down at the squirrel he had started cutting with his knife. I assumed he was skinning them, but I didn't know enough about it.

I don't know why I was so mad at Merle for not knowing my name. I had never told him my name before, but girlie was starting to piss me off.

"Ace," he corrected, rolling his eyes. "You ever eat squirrel 'fore?"

"Do I look like I've eaten squirrel before?"

"Ya wanna try some?" Merle looked over at Daryl, who was now glaring at him. "What? We're huntin' for the group now, aren't we?"

"I didn't see you doin' any of the huntin'," Daryl argued.

"That's because I volunteered for that run," Merle exclaimed, continuing the brotherly banter.

"Actually," I spoke before they could continue arguing. "I'm good. I really don't want to try any. And I'm really not hungry."

"Ya sure?" Merle asked. "Pro'ly have to try it at some point."

"I am so sure."

It was quiet for a moment, and I hoped that Merle had finally run out of things to say. From what I knew of him, it didn't seem very likely, but I could hope.

Merle glanced at his brother, but then stood up. "Gotta take a piss."

I frowned, watching him as he left. When he was finally gone, I looked at Daryl, who kept his head down. "What the hell is wrong with him?"

He glanced up, frowning when he saw me still there. He then looked over to where Merle had gone, before shrugging his shoulders. "Lots of stuff."

"No, I mean last time he spoke to me, he was screaming his head off," I explained. "Now he's just fine?"

"That's how he acts when he's stoned," Daryl said nonchalantly.

"He was high?"

On what?

"I think I saw him using it when he found out his bike was fixed," Daryl explained, dragging his feet along the ground until his knees were up against his chest. "There's something wrong in his head, you may have realised already."

"I did," I grinned. "It's just rude to bring it up."

Merle returned shortly after, taking his seat next to Daryl. All I could do was look at him for a second, frowning.

"I . . . do you need me for something?" I questioned, the confusion finally taking over. "Why did you even ask me to come over here?"

"I got my reasons."

"Are you going to share them?" I asked. When he didn't answer, I asked. "Can I go? I really don't want to watch you skin squirrels."

Merle glanced over to Daryl, who didn't meet his eyes when he did so. He glanced back over to me.

"Yeah, go on," he waved his hand dismissively. "Get outta 'ere."

"Okay," I pushed myself up with one hand. "Well, see you later."

I walked away quickly, more baffled than anything. As I was leaving, I heard Merle speaking to Daryl. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"What did you want me to say?" Daryl whispered back.

They continued talking, but I didn't understand as I got further away.

I just ignored it.

Chapter 7 is here. Where'smypenn helped me edit this one and as with a lot of my chapters, chose the title (I suck at titles).

As always, let me know what you think. I always enjoy reading your comments :)