chapter two;
I walk the line.
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"I FIND IT VERY, VERY EASY
TO BE TRUE. I FIND MYSELF ALONE
WHEN EACH DAY IS
THROUGH. YES, I ADMIT,
I'M A FOOL FOR YOU . . ."

— I Walk The Line, Johnny Cash.

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❀ LUCY ❀

GRIEF CAME AND WENT in waves. It moved without permission, pulling at the edges of Lucy's soul like water pulled sand. Casting waves of sadness and sorrow with the low tide. A feeling she believed herself capable of moving past, just as the waves at the beach drifted past her in childhood. But grief was a fickle god, as crushing and almighty as the depths of the ocean she once admired. And within a moment, the tide grew angry, and within its anger, it crashed against her soul. Salt in her lungs, screams lost in the wallowing winds, and grief was unforgiving. Just as gods often were.

Lucy hadn't believed herself capable of the heartache she felt since her father passed. Of the fear, mixed in with a hint of anger, tearing through her life. Her existence. It was fitting that with his death came the destruction of the universe. He hung the world with his presence and destroyed it with his absence. And Lucy herself? Well, she was the mighty sword of his destruction. The ink to his pen. The waves to his boat.

And she might drown in the ocean of her own creation.

Grief was an empty hole, all-consuming, but it was also an afterthought. At least to the rest of the survivors, her family set up camp with. Going through the motions day after day. Pretending life was as it always was. They'd wake up, make coffee, sit by the fire with those strangers they lived with, and then they'd begin chores, not to be done until the sun set and dinner had been prepped. It was as if the world hadn't stopped turning on its axis almost eight weeks prior. As if Lucy's dad hadn't been gone for ten.

It was odd how stagnant adults could be. Their inability to change, to adapt to another way of life proved such. They were pretenders. Playing house in their sleep-away camp, counting down the days until their lives would begin again. But Lucy, although she hoped with all her heart, wasn't sure if life would continue on in the same way it had become. Before the living got tired and the dead got hungry.

Running in the woods, where monsters wearing human faces woke her up to that reality. Eight weeks ago. And hadn't known what to do, or how to fight, all she knew was to run. To keep running no matter what. Lucy had always been a strong runner—she wouldn't have been a winger in soccer if she weren't. Running was easy. Running from danger? From death? Well, that had been a new experience for the teenager. All she could do was grip her mother's and brother's hands and hope death wouldn't claim them too. That they were faster than the beasts chasing them. Then, an oasis in the desert revealed itself, and they came upon the survivors, who were willing to share their camp.

The Quarry, as someone gotten to calling it. Mostly on account of the camp being high up in the hills, miles outside of Atlanta, and hidden by an enclave of trees and an actual quarry. Once at least. White rocks and brick held up the side, with a lake running down the middle. Perfect for fresh water, and defendable, as Uncle Shane said. They set up camp above it. Trees and the quarry surrounded all sides but one, the open road, where they could see anything coming for miles.

Camping in the hills with a bunch of strangers was just about as fun as it sounded. But most of the people were 'honest folks'. They helped each other, traded with one another, and split chores down the middle. Lucy wasn't even sure whose camping tent they were using. All she knew was it didn't belong to the Grimes family, and randomly sprouted up next to their site the night they arrived. Some sweet fellow survivor thought they looked like they could use it no doubt. Or Mom and Shane traded for it. Just as likely as the first option.

    They hadn't packed camping supplies on their escape from King's Country. Only their personal items, some food, and a gun (Shane's insistence)—oh, and their sleeping bags. At least Lucy had her own sleeping bag, so when Carl kicked her in the middle of the night on the blowup mattress they shared, she had her own leg space. And a chance to kick him back, of course. She shared the four-sleeper with her mom and brother, while Shane slept in a spare. Leaving room in both their hearts and their life for Lucy's dad. Their fourth was meant to be him, after all.

It felt empty, existing without her father. A gaping hole she'd sink into if she were not careful. One filled with the life she'd been waiting to get back to. For you see, Lucy refused to believe the Quarry camp was the best life could be. Days ticked by at an excruciatingly slow pace, consisting of mornings of chores, followed by afternoons of babysitting Carl and Sophia, or running fetch tasks for her mom. She tried to keep busy, to keep her mind off the one face that wasn't there with them. It worked most of the time, as long as she didn't have too long to sit and wallow in her self-pity.

    Still, when the days felt too quiet, and the bugs barely chirped, Lucy had her iPod to keep her company. It mostly worked, she had downloaded almost all the songs stored on there before the connection went down. As long as she only played it for ten minutes at a time, about 3.5 songs, the battery wouldn't drain too far, and she'd get a treat every time she missed her dad.

    Country had never been a favorite of hers, but Johnny Cash was the exception. She couldn't count how many times her dad played one of his songs on a car ride to drop her off at school or practice. Snapping his fingers and bobbing his head to the melody. Sometimes, he'd even whistle the music, his heart beating to the melody, drumming the steering wheel. Lucy of course, like any good teenager, would roll her eyes, unable to hide the smile forming on her face from his antics. Now, she'd be glad to download a Johnny Cash song. The one song her father played on repeat in the car.

   I Walk The Line—his favorite for some reason, blared out of her headphones. And if she closed her eyes, she could still see his face, hear his whistling in her ears, the snapping of his fingers, her laughter at his attempt to sing. She could still feel real, and that in itself, was the greatest gift of all.

Lucy's new life felt strange. Slow even. So unlike the one she used to lead. There was too much time on her hands, while simultaneously never being enough time for dwelling. Most of her days consisted of tasks she never thought about before. One she imagined most people hadn't thought about in one hundred or so years, but in a lot of ways, the apocalypse rewound time. And gathering and hunting became crucial in surviving day-to-day life.

"Where ya goin'?" Lucy asked after popping her head out of her tent to the sound of boots rustling outside. They belonged to Shane. A heavy step she'd grown accustomed to over the years. He rarely did anything quietly, even after the plague started. Heavy-footed, her father always called him.

Shane snapped his head around to the sound of Lucy's voice. His dark eyes narrowed before softening with recognition. "The woods. Errr . . . figure it's 'bout time we set up a perimeter. Get eyes and ears all over this place."

"Now?" She frowned, staring at the sun setting over the horizon. "It'll be dark soon." The woods at night weren't anything similar to the quarry at night. There was no sky, no stars. Nothing but the darkness in front, behind, and all around.

   He scratched his head. The hilt of his gun was dangling around his shoulder. With a tilt of his chin, he scanned the almost empty camp. Most of the folks had retired to their tents after a long day and an infilling meal. "It's as good a time as any. Geeks comin' out of the woods aren't gonna wait till supers up and all our chores been done."

  "Geeks?" Lucy shuffled her weight, leaning on the opening of the tent. With her left hand, she scratched at her wrist, pulled down the sleeve of her favorite jacket. Maroon and adorned with polkadots. "Didn't think they could make it up this far . . . " The thought had crossed her mind before. Late at night when there was nothing to do but listen to all the sounds outside, and hope they weren't the dead coming to kill them. Claim their souls as they had everyone else. She bit down on her nails, a nasty habit. One that often ended up with bloody cubicles and chewed-off nails. One thing her mom would scold her for, but she couldn't help it. Nasty habits weren't easy to kill, especially not when all they did was worry. The motion was more soothing to Lucy than anything.

   Her mother told her not to worry. Barely able to say the words out loud. Her fear paralyzed her when her daughter asked that very pertinent question. So she stopped asking. Tried to give her mother one less thing to worry about—but if Shane was worried, shouldn't they all be? Shouldn't they be camping out? All exposed to the elements, and the dead, as they were? Shouldn't someone do something? Well, Shane was. He elected himself as leader early on when it became clear no one else wanted that job, and he wore it with a badge of honor. Almost as proudly as he wore the 'Grimes family protection' badge he shone so brightly with.

   "Hey, no." He placed his palm on her shoulder. Squeezing lightly as her eyes drifted back up to his face, she found the sincerity there. "I'm not gonna let that happen. Alright? That's why I'm making perimeter."

    Lucy breathed out, steadying herself with the warm embrace of her uncle's hand on her shoulder. He'd always been a rock, safe in a way she rarely felt with anyone outside of the family. And while his hair was short, and ebony in shade. So unlike the untamed brown mess that was the Grimes' hair. His eyes were a deep shade of brown, chocolate-covered and brooding. Never sharing the same hopeful glint as the blue of the Grimes family eyes had. He was still, under every circumstance, a Grimes.

    Blood hadn't crowned him with that title, but love had. The love he held for Rick Grimes and his children.

"Well, I'll go with you." She stood up, brushing dust and dirt from her jeans. The sun would set soon, and the woods were filled with all sorts of dark secrets. Worrisome to Lucy most of the time, but she couldn't let Shane go alone. Not when her dad wasn't there to watch his back anymore. As the pair had done for each other every time before. She felt the cold metal of the compass dangling under her jacket. Close to her heart. And she knew, beyond all doubt, her dad would want someone to look out for Shane. That someone could be Lucy. She could make her father proud.

    His brow furrowed. A frown on his face. "No way, you stay here. The woods aren't safe. Not like they used to be—."

"Why not?" She folded her arms, eyebrows perched. Shane paused, his face crumpling before he schooled his expression. Barely staring at her head on. But Lucy continued anyway, brushing off his strangeness. "I wouldn't be alone. My uncle would be there. I'd been hearin' he's a pretty good guy—most of the time. Besides, I'll just follow ya if you leave me here."

He chuckled softly, kicking his toe through the dirt absentmindedly. Finally, he looked back up at her. Brown eyes on blue, and he squinted. Wrinkles of his face stark against the skyline. What he found there, Lucy wasn't sure, but he clicked his teeth together all the same. Slinging the rifle he held over his shoulder. "Alright, let's get movin'."

• • •

LUCY WAS AFRAID of the woods as a girl. The woods behind her Grandparents' farm had been off-limits to her and Carl. Strictly forbidden by her mother and grandmother. Enforced by her father and grandfather, who had often been out in the fields, keeping an eye on Carl and Lucy, and their antics. Not that it had been necessary, Lucy never strayed farther than the old oak tree. The limit line between the safety of the golden wheat, and the danger of the gnarly trees, clawing at the moonless sky.

Once upon a time, she had believed in its ability to swallow people whole. Consume their souls, leaving nothing but memories behind, until even the memories faded from existence, and the person was forgotten. Her father had gone into those woods too many times to count. Searching for a missing person. Only to come out with nothing every single time. When a person got lost in the woods, they stayed lost. She was unforgiving in that way—Mother Nature.

Darkness encompassed the woods Lucy walked through with Shane. Trees acting as a shade to the setting sun, forcing them to rely on their pairs of eyes to make sense of the endless green around them. Dead leaves cracked under her Converse sneakers, too loud, too sharp, alerting the whole forest to one teenager's intrusion. She hadn't been afraid of the woods in some time. At almost sixteen years old, Lucy knew better than to hold onto childish fears.

But she couldn't help the shiver from escaping her bones. As if entering the threshold had awoken something ancient and familiar within her body. The woods were safe, and if she told herself those words enough times, she could almost believe them. The woods were safe—only they weren't. They hadn't been in a long time. Not when the dead roamed the planet. Hungry and angry. Waiting to feast on the corpses of dead things trapped within the web of branches.

A branch cracked somewhere in the distance. Not from the wind. Too loud to have been a squirrel. And suddenly, every hair on Lucy's arms stood up. Every instinct was telling her to run. "We should go back. It's gonna be dark soon."

But what was she running from? Shane was there. He held his gun at arm's length. As if he welcomed the intrusion with open arms. "Yeah, already. I'll take ya back," he whispered. Eyes scanning the tree line for whatever had made that sound. He pursed his lips, twitching slightly, as he waited for the sound to come again. Hunched low, but relaxed. Guard hardly raised.

Lucy stepped backwards, further behind Shane. She lined herself up with his shoulder. The woods had been a mistake. Why did Lucy have a talent for trouble? For proving herself? She had wanted to honor her father's memory. Make him proud, but she had no chance of doing that. Of finding Rick Grimes within herself if she were dead. "Uncle Shane—"

"Lucy," A voice breathed out from behind the pair. Lucy nearly jumped out of her skin as she heard it. The teenager pivoted toward the interruption, color draining from her face before she recognized the figure.

There, ten feet behind them, stood Lucy's mom. Her chestnut brown hair was loose, falling from her shoulders in fluffy waves, Lucy hadn't been able to replicate it no matter how hard she tried. Her turquoise earrings, gifted to her by Lucy and Carl last Mother's Day, dangled from her ears. Smacking the side of her cheek every time she moved. The older Grimes woman dropped the red bucket she was holding. Mouth hanging open. "What are you doing out here?"

"Errr—" Lucy kicked her feet in the dirt, staring down at her shoes. "Sightseeing?"

The joke hardly landed, and the frown on her mother's face intensified. "In the woods? No!" She placed her arms on her hips. The ultimate of her 'I'm pissed off' poses. Her wrath turned toward Shane. The one who let Lucy out in the woods with him in the first place. Even the slight breeze did nothing to cool the bubbling anger her mother was feeling.

Shane held up his hands, still close enough that Lucy could feel the warmth of his aura radiating off of him. "Look she wanted to come alright—"

"That doesn't matter!" She told him, matter-of-factly. "You're the adult, and she's a child." Lucy bit down on her nail again. Watching the display with an anxious spirit. She didn't want them to fight. She had wanted to prove herself, just as her dad always did. But she should have known. Like summer and winter, Lori and Shane didn't go together. Polar opposites, and always prone to arguments.

    Shane, as he often did, exploded at the first sign of criticism. Fragile to his core when it came to his ability to protect his niece. Rick's daughter from danger. "I didn't see the harm. I was out here with her. I was gonna take her back before—"

  "What are you doing here?" Lucy asked the buffer to stop the fight because her father couldn't be anymore. He'd always been steady, the atlas to their compass. To keep both the North and South centered.

Lori's face went pale. Glancing down at the bucket she dropped it on the floor. "I'm . . . Picking mushrooms." Lucy stared at the red bucket. No mushrooms in sight. Just a forgotten bucket gathering dust with all the other ingredients the woods cooked up.

"Again?" She asked, and neither her mother nor Shane would look her in the eyes. Still reeling from their almost fight, probably. "You just did this morning

"Well." Lori's eyes drifted toward Shane. Wide and dark. The cop coughed, clearing his throat and becoming very interested in the wood of the tree. Using his fist to knock on it, and determine its hollowness. Lucy's mom twirled a piece of her hair with her index finger. Tugging slightly. "Can't ever have too many. Especially with this lot. Eating anything they get their hands on."

Lucy considered herself an expert on human emotions. She was empathetic mature, after all . . . Most of the time. And, with a ninety-six percent certainty, Lucy knew her mother to be lying. Fibbing in one matter or another. Like the truth was made of elastic to be bent and stretched at her will. Before snapping back in place—or snapping. Elastic broke when pulled too far apart.

Yet, the woman who had given her life. The one Lucy considered to be always right. Always kind. Always perfect. Was cracking. Slowly, day by day, the complexity under the image that was Lori Grimes, was showing. She had never been real. In all the years Lucy had known her she had been too perfectly untouchable for such a feat. Life-bringer. Life-giver. God-like holy being. She was a creator of life. More god than person. To be real she needed to be a person Lucy could touch. Imperfections she could grasp in her fingers—it was all the teenager ever wanted.

She was close. Closer than ever . . . If she reached out into the wind. She could almost feel the shell cracking. Catch glimpses of reality. "I'm done now," Lori said, holding her head up high, and an arm out to push Lucy in the direction she deemed safe. "Let's go back. Your brother will be wondering what we've gotten up to."

Lucy huffed. Even the woods, as dark and as cold as they were beautiful, could not hold her mother's heart. Be the mirror of her inner identity. Who was the woman behind the mother? She wanted to find out. Wanted to see her mother in every light she possibly could. Maybe then Lucy could measure up in a way she hadn't been able to before? Be the living legacy of her parents.

Or maybe, there within the endless trees, smoke and dust trapped in, and no stars for miles. The mystery of Lori Grimes was close to being revealed? And if there was anything to know about Lucy at all, she loved a good mystery.

She would learn the truth . . . Even if it killed them both.

• • •

   "ONE HUNDRED THIRTEEN."

   CARL PENCILED IN the answer squinting his eyes in focus. He brushed out the wrinkles of the paper he'd been using as a paper airplane three minutes prior. Careful not to miss any dots. "One-nineteen." Lucy corrected, leaning over his shoulder like a second shadow.

   But Carl frowned, pushing Lucy away from his neck as he broke the lead of the pencil . . . again.  "Are you sure? I got one hundred thirteen."

"Course I'm sure. It's long division. So you gotta bring down all the digits." Carl stared at her blankly. So Lucy sighed, sitting back down in her chair, and sliding the paper toward herself. History homework of her own left discarded on the side. "See, you've got to bring down this four here, and you didn't subtract twenty-four from twenty-eight either." She frowned, pushing locks of hair behind her ear. Before using her pencil to erase the answer.

They'd been at the table for an hour already. Nestled under the safety of the old dogwood tree, keeping them cool in the late September heat. Beside them sat stacks of books that Glenn, another survivor and designated supply runner of the camp, managed to find. The pile was as daunting as the geeks themselves, and as tall as Carl himself. Although, the twelve-year-old would claim otherwise. Especially, in the company of Sophia Peltier. His new friend, and the only one who could deal with the siblings' bickering for longer than five minutes at a time.

She often sat quietly. Basking in the shared company of the Grimes family while her mother, Carol, helped Lori out with the laundry. The family consisted of a father as well, Ed, but nobody saw much of him, and Carol and Sophia had only been allowed to socialize with the others in his absence. Lucy hated that man, even if her mother told her not to hate people, and she was glad when he wasn't breathing down his wife and daughter's necks. Sophia seemed calmer, and more at ease for it.

Her honey colored hair glistening under the old dogwood tree. Often fashioned with a blue or pink headband. Her arms were styled with a few of Lucy's Silly Bandz. The older girl had given her some after she caught Sophia eyeing them so many times. She deserved nice things. Even if her father thought otherwise.

"Errr." Sophia chewed on the inside of her cheek. Fiddling with the elastic of the Silly Bandz. "She's right. I-it's one-nineteen. Not one-thirteen." Carl rolled his eyes, a playful glint to his annoyance. But Lucy wore a triumphant grin on her face. Of course, the teenager knew herself to be right before Sophia agreed, but it was nice to have someone back her up. Especially, when it came to Carl. He was a little menace after all.

"See, this is why you are my favorite," Lucy said, clapping her hands together as Sophia smiled shyly. She smoothed down her shirt, sitting a bit higher in her chair. As if she were on top of the world rather than the tiny hill along the edge of the Quarry Camp. Before leaning back down, and starting another problem. Desperate to be done with school for the day.

They all were. What Lucy expected to be an extended summer turned into a rigorous school year with Ms. Miranda, Ms. Carol, and her mother. They took turns teaching the lesson plans to the younger kids. It worked out well for the little. With Carl and Sophia both in the seventh grade, and Eliza only a year behind, and young Louis having just gone into the fourth grade.

Lucy's was the hardest to plan as a tenth grader herself. Requiring more planning and preparation from the women than any of them were ready for, but she didn't mind. And she didn't tell them the classes they provided were much easier than in school. Afraid they'd try to toughen up the material to challenge her. She was challenged enough in her personal life—thank you very much!

"Why am I doing this?" She asked after working out where Carl went wrong in the problem. Taking far longer on his homework than her own. "You should be workin' at your own problems Carl."

But Carl smirked, hands on the table. "'Cause you don't know how to do it either—"

"Um, not true. I've been doing long division since the fourth grade, and I'm great at it. Just ask Sophia." Two pairs of bright blue eyes stared at Sophia, waiting for a response. She blinked back, biting on her cheek once more before shrugging, and going back to her work. Unwilling to be pulled into their sibling war once more. She learned her lesson the first time that happened.

"Whatever you say." He whistled through his nose, and Lucy thought about throwing an eraser at his head. Just to teach him a lesson about respecting his elders . . . elder sisters at least. With the paper back in front of him, he folded the edges in, creating a bowl of some sort. While Lucy went back to her assignment on The Capture of Fort Ticonderoga, you know riveting stuff. "I don't get why we've gotta know this stuff anyway. It's not like we'll be using long division out here."

Lucy sighed, practicing her big sister patience once more. There goes her focus. At this rate, she won't get anything done, and Carl wouldn't either. Of course, it would be her fault. As she's older and apparently wiser, and should have told them both to do their work. "Well, ya can't get by in the world with just a sixth-grade education, Carl. 'Sides, mom said we got to keep up our studies. Keep our br—"

"Brains' sharp," he finished for her, in a sing-song voice. Sophia moved on to another page. Pushing her math homework aside as the siblings struggled to figure out one page of their own. "It's stupid, and I'm bored."

"You're always bored," she pointed out with her pencil. "And you'll be stupid if you don't try to do the work. Come on focus. 2,376 divided by 18–go!"

"Hmm," he clicked his teeth together. Eyes wandering the second she unfolded the paper and pushed it in front of him. "I don't know."

"Carrrlll," she drew out the symbols of his name. Her hand pinched her temple. "You've got to try—"

"Why?"

"Err, cause I said so . . ."

"You're not Mom." Carl used the pencil as a drum set rather than a piece of paper. "And Eliza and Louis don't have to do this. It's not fair!" He whined, dangling his legs off the chair, and hitting the back of hers with his shoes. He wore Shane's old baseball cap to shield his eyes from the sun. Blocking most of his expression from Lucy's view, but she knew him to be annoyed. Impatient to his core.

"The Morales siblings are waiting for their dad to come back. You want them to work on some stupid assignment while he's out there risking his life for everybody?" Almost two hours ago, a small group set out for Atlanta. Glenn, their usual runner, hadn't been able to carry back enough supplies for the growing camp anymore. Which meant more trips to the city, and more chances of getting attacked by the geeks on the trips there and back.

The group voted on whether to send more people or not. Only volunteers, of course, but they had no shortage of those. Everyone wanted to do their part to watch the growing community thrive. The Morales siblings' dad was one of the volunteers. Along with five others.

Carl leaned his head on the table. Watching the branch of the tree dangle in the breeze. "Yeah, I guess . . ." He hadn't been excited about the departure of so many people from camp. Reading off the somber moods of the adults left behind. They hadn't been sure if they were sending the scavengers off to their death. Back in the city, they ran from all those weeks prior. Even if it was each of their choices to go.

They chose to go . . . But Lucy couldn't shake the feeling of guilt encompassing her as they drove away. The families they left behind were standing there in the dust of the tires. Bone-tired but afraid beyond all doubt of what waited for their loved ones down in Atlanta.

"We should play tag," Carl said. Recovering from his state of doom rather quickly, but like all children he had a resilient heart. "Sophia?"

"One second," she hummed. Her pink and white striped pencil was held high in the air. As she scribbled furiously on the paper. Lucy itched to see what she was so focused on. Know that it had Sophia's mind rather than Carl's idea of a game. After a moment, she held up the paper. A triumphant grin on her face. Lucy and Carl both leaned forward at the same time to see what the blonde girl made of the math problems. Only to be met with a drawing instead. No, a doodled portrait of Lucy and Carl. Lost in conversation across from her.

Lucy smiled, giving Sophia a thumbs-up. "Wow, that's really good Soph." And she wasn't lying. Lucy was a horrible liar, just ask anyone. The twelve-year-old, while not a professional, had a bright future in the arts ahead of her. A creativity lost to Lucy on most days, but greatly admired. She should ask for a lesson one of these days. Maybe Lucy could take up some art to pass the time.

"Thanks," she said, leaning across the table with the paper in hand. "You can keep 'em if you want. I've got plenty of sketches already, and Daddy don't like them crowding up the tent."

"Course." Lucy took the paper with a clenched fist and a forced smile. "Thanks, Sophia. I'll hang it up in ours." She wanted to tell Ed off. Ask Shane to get rid of him so Sophia and Carol could finally be happy, but her mother asked her to stay away from the man, and Shane backed her up. One of the only things her mom and Shane had agreed on since they met the family almost eight weeks back.

It was only when she brushed the fingertips of Sophia that she saw the black and red bruise forming on her wrist. The way she held it limply out. Wincing when she moved it too far to the left. Lucy thought about asking the words the whole camp had been afraid to mutter, but knew deep in their hearts were happening. She wanted to lean forward and hug the younger girl. Comfort her and tell her everything would be alright, Lucy would protect her. But how was Lucy meant to protect her from the monsters in her life when she couldn't protect herself from them? How was Lucy meant to grow stronger when she, herself, was so young and afraid?

But the moment passed, and Sophia had already pulled away. Moving her chair back as she rose to go play tag with Carl. They hadn't made it far when the radio roared to life with chatter. Amy Anderson, a blonde girl, a few years older than Lucy, ran to the radio like her life depended on it. And it did. Or her sister's did of course. Andrea having been one of the volunteers to go into the city. One of the volunteers who were given strict instructions to use the radio channel if something had gone wrong.

The voice that came from Shane's beat-up police broadcaster was distant and full of static. Lucy herself couldn't make out much more than it sounded like a man's voice. A man in clear signs of distress. "Hey! Hello?" Amy spoke the words without a breath into the mic. Gripping the radio as if she could will good news from it by clutching hard.

"We'll be ap-proching Atlan-nta on h-highway 85. If an-anybody hea-ars please respond . . ." There was something about the voice she couldn't quite name. Hypnotizing and familiar. As if her bones recognized the voice even if her mind couldn't. Her soul was calling out for something that wasn't there. She felt crazy and ignored the calling the best she could.

"Do you think it's them?" Lucy asked, moving closer and leaving her forgotten items of homework and Carl and Sophia back at the table. They hadn't been gone longer than two hours. Setting out at the first sign of daylight. Maybe Glenn had been right to ask to go alone? Runs into the city always went smoothly every time before when it was just him, and no one else.

"I don't see why they'd be calling us now. They haven't arrived to the city yet," supplied Dale. An older man who arrived at the Quarry with a caravan of people a few days after Lucy's family had. He had a full house. Giving many people shelter in the safety of his RV during the fall of Atlanta. "Unless there's trouble."

Amy shuddered at the thought, voice loud and frantic as she talked into the mic once more. "Hello, hello?" But the voice was gone. Only static to be left in his wake. "Damnit, he couldn't hear me. I-I couldn't warn him."

  "Probably too far away to get a good signal," said Lucy, kicking the radio lightly. It had been at the station since before Lucy was born. An outdated model but the only one they could get working after the connection lines went down. And Shane fixed it up a bit. "I mean this things like a hundred years old. Uncle Shane's just a sentimental guy. Couldn't part with his history."

Dale frowned, readjusting his fisherman's hat as a crowd began to gather 'round. "Try him again." Lucy's mom and Carl drifted up beside Lucy. Twin expressions of curiosity mixed with a bit of concern echoed on both their faces. Lucy's probably too, if she were being honest. "Come on son." Dale glanced in the direction of Shane. Still cutting wood. As if he couldn't be bothered by the curiosity of a new voice on the radio. "You know best how to work this thing."

Uncle Shane threw down his axe haphazardly. Brushing the soot onto his jeans. "Hello, hello, is the person who called still on the air? This is Officer Shane Walsh broadcasting a person unknown." His voice was rough and strong. The one he always used during his shifts and when out in the town with the people. His authoritative voice. His police voice. "Please respond . . . He's gone."

Lori sighed, glaring at Shane. Still reeling from him taking Lucy out in the woods two days prior. "There are others. It's not just us out here."

Others, the last of the group at the Quarry to arrive was the Dixon brothers. A mean-looking duo who mostly kept to themselves. Other than when they were berating the group. Mostly the older Dixon brother, Merle. And mostly to the members of the group with a darker complexion than his own. But it had been almost five weeks since they showed up, and no one else had come since then. Lucy hadn't even been sure there were others left to find. Not when Glenn confirmed he found no one in the city on any of his runs.

"We knew there would be, right?" Shane had more confidence in people still being left out there than Lucy did. Surprising since he had always been the cynic of the pair, not Lucy. "That's why we left the C.B. on." His tone was a bit harsh and bitter. The easy smiles and quick humor Shane had before the dead started walking only a distant memory of the past.

Lori scoffed, digging her feet in the sand. And gaining more fire every time she looked at her daughter. The same daughter he let wander off in the woods with him. The sun was hot, boiling down and clenching her rage within its heat. Summers in Georgia were unbearable enough before the outbreak. Back when they still had working AC. "A lot of good it's been doing."

"Okay." He laughed humorlessly. So far from the man always cracking up in the car on a stakeout with her dad. Or at the dinner table every Sunday night. Telling stories of the antics her dad and him used to get up to back in high school.

Lori folded her arms, shielding Carl from the conversation. "I've been saying for weeks we've outta our signs up to warn people away from the city,"

Amy nodded, lips pursed and hands on her knees. "Folks got no idea what they're getting into." Atlanta. The city was so overrun with the dead, the officials, those left at least, bombed the city. Killing the geeks, and trapping whomever was unfortunate enough to still be in the city within a fiery tomb. Those heading into the city knew what they were risking that day. Understood the price. Folks from out of town? Well, Amy was right, they had no idea what they were getting into.

If looks had been able to kill. All of those opposing Shane's law would have dropped dead at his glare. "Well, we haven't had the time." He pivoted backwards, seeing an end to the conversation, but Lori wasn't finished. She was on a crusade, and Shane had been her target since he endangered the life of her daughter . . . Or whatever she'd been upset about. And she blocked his path. Folded arms used as a buffer.

"I think we should make time," she said, loudly. The others gathered around the scene nodding along with her words. Commanding armies and nations alike. She's always been good at talking to people. When Lori Grimes had something to say, everyone stopped what they were doing to listen. That's just the way the world worked. "It's the Christian thing to do."

Shane's jaw set, eyes darkening. He didn't much appreciate when people disagreed with him. It brought him shame to deal with, and he didn't, so it festered into anger. "Well, that's a luxury we can't afford. We are surviving here. We are day to day." Lucy rolled her eyes, It's not as if they had no time to put some signs on the side of the road. They are just sitting in the dirt most of the time, and there are enough people to spare a few for the task while the others keep working.

  Dale shook his head at the two of them, reprimanding the children. "And who the hell would you propose we send?"

   "I'll go," her voice cracked. "Give me a vehicle."

"Nobody goes anywhere alone. You know that!" Shane flinched as if her words slapped him. He wore his face with a guardedness ready to explode. Molten hot lava to run down his skin, and burn him completely through. Skin and bones. Until nothing of Shane Walsh was left.

    The pact was for no one to leave the camp alone. Only in pairs should the group wander around. But Lucy considered that rule to be more of a suggestion than anything else. People broke the pact all the time. Leaving camp alone for all sorts of reasons. Lori and Shane being among some of the biggest dealbreakers. Her mom wandered off alone in the woods to collect mushrooms all the time. Sometimes, she'd be gone for hours, and Lucy would position herself in the chair atop Dale's RV. Binoculars scanning the tree line for any sign of her. Was Lucy's mom not alone then? Why did Shane only count putting signs on the side of the road, 'leaving camp'?

    Why wasn't her mom correcting him?

    "I'll go too," Lucy piped in from the rock she sat on. Carl close on her heels as the little bugger always had. There was no place she could go for peace that he wouldn't follow. "We can watch each other's backs—"

   "No!"

  "Absolutely not!"

  Lucy frowned. The words hadn't been out of her mouth longer than three seconds before her mom and uncle were already shooting down the idea. Barely giving herself a chance to prove herself. To prove herself capable like her dad had been. "Fine, geez. I won't go." It was fitting for the two of them to finally agree on something when Lucy was involved. The only time they ever did was when the kids were involved. When Lucy needed someone to shoot her down, again.

  "Signs close to camp are dangerous," offered another voice. "But, I suppose if we took a car, and drove further out. Only placing the signs in the direction to leave the city. We could make it happen without anyone getting hurt. I'll go with Lori if we need volunteers." Oliver Harmon was another member of the camp. Older, and wiser, than everyone else. He arrived in the same RV Dale did. Questions and ideas plagued his mind as he took it upon himself to create a perimeter watch on top of the RV. Switching off with Dale or whoever else they trusted to take their safety seriously.

Lucy's mom smiled weakly at the old man. Who stood out proudly in the crowd? His ideals shone upon his skin like the shimmering rays of the sun. He was a quiet man, always collecting his thoughts before speaking. Always speaking the truth.

Shane had other plans. And with a crown bathed in the blood of his own hands. He voiced those plans. "No, no—nobody goes anywhere at all. Especially not an elderly man and a mother."

     "Son, I appreciate all you do here. You know I do," he said in a soft voice. Hand smoothing out his old worn cardigan it was too hot for. "But I don't recall asking for your permission to go, and I don't believe I need it. Now, do I?" He didn't need to yell, not when he had everyone on the edge of their seats waiting for what would happen next.

Shane rubbed his hand through his hair. "Fine, do what you want, but Lori isn't going with you. Not when she's got kids who need her here."

"But it's not-" Lucy started to say. Who was Shane to tell her mother what she could and couldn't do? He meant well, she knew that better than the back of her hand. Shane Walsh always looked out for the family, but he wasn't in charge of them. And he wasn't their keeper. Not the group's and not the Grimes family either. Oliver was right, but he knew that much. It was the only reason he said anything at all.

"No," he cut her off. Playing prison warden to the short-chained lease he kept them on. Begging them not to chew off their own foot for freedom. But he didn't understand, love wasn't ownership. It wasn't to control. Only to support. Support those he loved most in their decisions and morals.

    Lucy's mom's eyebrow furrowed. Hazel eyes were watering with what Lucy only knew to be her mom's outer layer cracking again. "Yes, sir!" She spat out the venom as if it were meant to heal. Spinning around, and storming off in the direction of the tents.

Carl jumped down off the big boulder that he and Lucy were sitting on. Eager to follow after his mother as he always did, but Shane acted as a blocker. Pulled him back. Pointing to the log he wanted the siblings to sit down and wait at. While he, of all people, went to find Lori. "I'm pretty sure you're the last person she wants to see right now," Lucy told him, but he didn't listen to her. No one ever listened to her. Instead, he shook the venom Lori spat, out of his head. And he spun in the direction of the tents. To be lost in a sea of gray, green, and blue.

   Fights broke out as frequently as the wind blew, those days. Often resulting in one or both of them storming off toward the woods. Or the tents. The first time it happened, Lucy wasn't even sure what they were fighting about. Only that her mom tugged herself out of his grasp and headed off toward the woods. Shane to follow soon after. She hadn't seen either of them for at least an hour, and finally, when her mom returned. Her hair was a mess. A leaf building a home there. And her face was red. Eyes rimmed with tears she couldn't shed in front of the others. Lucy didn't ask what happened. She wouldn't have gotten an answer beyond a small smile and a lie that she was fine.

   It was very peculiar. Her mother's actions. Shane's actions most days as well. Those days ago, both of them were in the woods at the same time. Shane was unsurprised to see Lori there. Despite his claims that no one was wandering off alone. Lucy's mom's shock at Lucy, and Lucy alone, being there. There was something . . . Something Lucy couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Lucy, if the city is so bad that we need signs, why send people into it?" Carl asked, drawing in the dirt with his fingers. He sat in front of her, back leaning against the log.

"Errr, 'cause we need whatever supplies they can find. It's better to stock up now than wait and everything might be picked clean." She left out the part about supplies being at an all-time low. Too many mouths to feed and not enough stock coming in. The goal was to hold themselves over with mushrooms and what little they had left in stock. Waiting for Daryl Dixon, who left hunting, or the supply group to come back with more. They would have nothing in a week. If Andrea's whispers to Amy, that Lucy totally wasn't eavesdropping on, were anything to go off.

"But what if they don't come back? We won't get any supplies and we'll lose people." He scrunched his nose.

   "I wouldn't worry so much about what remains out of your control," said Oliver Harmon from where he was sitting a few paces away. His complexion pale and almost green in the face. Eyes closed as he drifted his head up toward the heat of the sun. As if that were the place he belonged the most. Not in this earthly prison they all rotted in.

  Lucy felt her body cringe at his words. At Carl's question. She hadn't realized the older man was there when she and Carl started talking. He had more stake in the supply group than Lucy and Carl combined. His grandson, Sidney, had volunteered to be the first to accompany Glenn into the death trap known formally as Atlanta. And Glenn—well, she wasn't exactly sure what Glenn was to the Harmons. She didn't think them to be related, but he was close with the family. Like Shane was with hers.

  For all intents and purposes, his family was out there, risking their lives for the group, while Lucy and hers debated the likelihood of their grand return. Or their grand demise. "Glenn has done a dozen of these supply trips, and Sidney is a survivor. The others are as well." He smiled down at a confused Carl, who looked to Lucy for guidance. "I have the utmost confidence in their ability to figure it out."

  "I guess," he mumbled, tracing his finger in the dirt once more. His attempt to draw an art project to show Sophia later, no doubt. "But my mom seems scared, and she always knows things I don't."

"Mom's not scared-scared, she just wants to help people find this camp. So they don't have to go it alone out there," Lucy spoke up, messing up Carl's hair a bit. She glanced at Mr. Harmon, trying to figure out what his opinion on her mother's state was. Should she ask him about the woods? Probably not. Definitely not with Carl there, but he knew things. Knew things about the world Lucy hadn't yet.

"Yeah I guess, Shane doesn't seem scared so it must be okay," he reasons, freckles visible in the sunlight. Carl has always adored Shane. And ever since the accident, Shane can do no wrong in his eyes. In either of the siblings' eyes.

    But he was acting strange, right? It couldn't all be a figment of Lucy's imagination. She wasn't crazy.

The older man seemed to sense Lucy's disdain. Clicking his teeth together, as he wrapped his cardigan closer around his chest. "I'm sure your mother would be happy to see you both. These days are hard on mothers."

"Shane told us not to," Carl said to Lucy sadly.

   "Yeah, maybe, but he's right. Why not go see Mom? It will make you feel better." Lucy stood on her feet, pulling Carl with her rather than back down toward the dirt like Shane wanted. She was their mom, and she was upset. Why couldn't they go see her? Comfort her in her time of need.

    Carl ran off toward the tents, Lucy close on his heels, but before she could get there, she spotted Amy Harrison. "Need any help?" She asked the older girl, who was carrying a load of firewood toward the pits. Far too heavy for one person to handle.

   The blonde girl stopped, sweat dripping down her brow. But she attempted a smile, one that looked more like a grimace than anything. "Nah, I just need to take my mind off of things you know. Go with Carl, I'm sure he's waiting."

"Mom?" She hears Carl shout excitedly. So she gives Amy a small smile and hurries after him. There's nothing she could do for Amy anyway, other than hope Andrea and the others made it back to camp safely.
She made it over to see her mom hugging Carl close and wiping away his tears. Lucy's heart pounded but she hung back, trying to give them their moment of grief together. Carl needed it. Needed his mom more than ever now that his dad was gone. Now that dead things had been trying to kill him. He was a little boy. Just a little boy.

"You get why I don't want your momma going out there?" Shane asked. Appearing at Lucy's side like the shadow of a ghost. The shadow of the one ghost they both wanted to live up to more than anything else. With her identical eyes to her father, she blinked up at Shane. Squinting slightly before she noticed his anxiety, her face softened.

  He was exhausted. He had kept them all save for so many months. A life debt Lucy had no means of ever paying back. Not that she would have to. It was Uncle Shane after all. He did it for family because that's what the Grimes did for each other. Their loyalty ran deeper than their stubbornness. "Of course, I get it Uncle Shane. I just-I just don't agree with it. If we got the means to help people I think we should use 'em. It's the right thing to do."

    It's what Dad would do . . . But she left that part unspoken. They'd both known it without it needing to be said.

   He sighed, voice hollow. "You are your momma's girl through and through." Although, she wasn't the Grimes either of them were thinking of in that moment. "Just don't go running off okay? I don't want to have to go chasing you through the woods like a madman."

   Lucy smiled, knocking his arm lightly with her own. Eyes lit with satisfaction. "I make no promises, but seriously. You don't have to worry so much. I'm no doctor but I'm pretty sure it'll eat 'way at that gut of yours."

    "Yes, I do," he said through strained teeth. The words he wanted to say refused to fall from his mouth. But hanging over both of them as a noose they couldn't escape from in their life, and an execution waiting for them in their death. Her dad, he would want his oldest friend—no, his brother. To look after his family in his absence. Treat them as his own. Die for them as need be.
 
    With one failed motion, Lucy wrapped her arms around Shane. Standing on her tip-toes to reach up without him having to bend down. There locked in his arms. Her head was leaning on his shoulder. She could close her eyes and just breathe. Standing within the grasp of the man closest to her father. Basking in the shared grief of the man they both loved and lost.

  And when she closed her eyes, she nestled close to Shane's heart. He cupping her head delicately. Lucy could almost feel her dad still with her. Pretend she hadn't lost him for a moment. With the deliberate way Shane held her head, in the same manner, Rick Grimes always did.

   Perhaps his memory lived on after all? Perhaps Lucy hadn't lost him. At least not yet. Not with Shane Walsh there to stand in his shoes.

Author's Note:

Original chapter note:

Hello, Lovelies💕

There's not much for Lucy to do in the early episodes because I felt that with the kind of parents Lori and Rick are, it would be unrealistic for their fifteen-year-old to be more involved in the plot.

The next chapter is Sidney's first chapter, and he has a lot more to do in the first season. With him being one of the adults and able to be involved with a lot more of the storylines.

Rewritten chapter note:

So there were a lot of things I changed or added in this chapter. For one, the bigger inclusion of Sophia into the plot. As in the original version, Lucy didn't have much of a relationship with her and was more there for Carl in her absence because she was his friend. Not out of a shared grief of losing her. I thought it was important to showcase that the tragedy of Sophia's death wasn't just that she was a little girl, and acting as a cruel reminder of the world they live in, but also to show that she was a person first, and had her personality and dreams. She's an artist in this version of A2A. Hence the picture she drew of Carl and Lucy. Now if I had any artistic talent at all, I would have drawn the sketch she made with her pencil of the two of them. But at least I think it would look like a first-grader drew it. So I did not do it.

In another life, where I could draw, that would be the coolest shit ever. Cause it really would bring the story more alive.

Alright, anyway. For my non-American friends *cough *cough, Amber! Here is a guide on the American school system grades I threw at you. So, it was August when the outbreak happened in A2A, and the kids would have just started the new school year. Sophia and Carl, at twelve, would have just started the seventh grade. Junior high—which consists of seventh and eighth grade. Right before high school. Or secondary school. As I think a lot of countries call it. Eliza and Louis Morales would both be in elementary school. Or primary school. About the ages of eleven and nine. Lucy is in high school. A tenth grader as she doesn't turn sixteen till October. Missing the cutoff to have started school earlier and been a junior. Secondary school. But in the states, our secondary school is mandatory all the way through twelve grade. Seniors.

If anyone has more questions on the school system I am happy to help! No one probably cared about that but it's okay. I like to hear myself talk. Or write. After all.

I also added more details of Lucy catching on to her mother and Shane's relationship. As I think she's old enough to realize something is going on, and she wants to find out what. She's definitely not thinking they are sleeping together though. As she's a bit naive and I've added more to her grief about her dad. A plot that was lacking in the original version of A2A. Whether she finds out or not, well we will have to wait to see.

BEFORE YOU GO!

Savanah escapism-artist surprised me the other day with manips she made of Lucy for Ashes to Ashes! This is seriously becoming a theme at the end of the chapter notes 😂 but I had to share them because they are amazing and I'm obsessed. Savannah is super talented as we all can see, and she also writes a fantastic Daryl Dixon fanfiction if any of you are interested in checking it out!

Thank you again, Savannah, ily, and the manips so very much!!

P.S. Please no one steal her hard work.