chapter 03;
manifesting miracles.
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trigger warning| mentions of racism.

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"THERE IS BLOOD EVERYWHERE, 
AND I AM LOST IN IT.
I BREATHE BLOOD, NOT AIR . . ."

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❀ LUCY ❀

WITH SO MANY CORE members of the group off in Atlanta, Lucy Grimes was expected to pick up the slack. Being one of the youngest members, she had usually been given fetch tasks, such as collecting firewood with Amy or watching the younger members of the camp—Lucy's end of the world babysitting club. Often, spending her time coloring or watching the littles play tag. Sometimes even hide-and-go-seek. Adults barely trusted those of recent legal age, to take on the heavy burdens. Let alone fifteen year old. Although, Lucy hoped the day would come for more responsibility, and she would finally be able to prove herself as a capable survivor and not just a kid.

She had been practicing anyhow. While keeping an eye on Carl, who was drawing in the dirt with a huge stick he found on the outskirts of the perimeter between the camp and the woods. A no go zone for the young Grimes boy. Lucy and Lori reminding him of such almost daily.

He seemed at peace, as he drew in the dirt. His childlike mind filled with wonder and imagination, and all the things Lucy hadn't been capable of. The old familiar feeling of jealousy creeped up her spine and dug its place in her chest. How could he stomach the sight of the woods? Lucy's palms sweating every time her and Amy stepped foot on the sidelines to pick mushrooms for camp. Besides, she much preferred watching her annoying little brother to the geeks.

Oh how times had changed. Three months ago Lucy would flip being stuck watching Carl than doing something fun. Unfortunately, Lori Grimes didn't care that Lucy had plans and expected her to watch out for him, even when he was the most annoying little brother in the world. "We put each other first in this house. Family always comes first," Lori would tell her daughter before kissing her on the head and leaving, despite Lucy's very theatrical protests.

The family had been Lori Grimes world and to her, it was as sacred as the rising sun. Or the treasured moon. It was hers. Lucy's mom's alone. And like Lucy's father, she wore it as a badge of honor. The greatest one to be bestowed on a person . . . Ever.

"Sweetheart?" Lori's voice, sweet as honey. Filled the peaceful silence Carl and Lucy had gathered. Birds chirping in the distance, and acting as a trace to Lucy. Putting her almost in a deep slumber. She spun around looking at her mom. Her hair was loose again. Pieces of her bangs tied back with barrettes. And a red empty bucket, lifted into the air once more. "Can you watch Carl for me? And have both of you stay close enough for Dale to see you."

"Again?" Lucy shot up off of the log. Picking at the side of her arm. "What's with you and mushrooms?" Almost every day for weeks her mom would disappear into the woods with that red bucket. Come back an hour later with the mushrooms only filled up half way and a hollow expression in her eyes.

She froze. Just as Lucy expected her to. Mind wheeling with one excuse or another to give her teenage daughter. "Err—They're great for a balanced diet?"

"Sure, as long as they aren't the poisonous ones." She folded her arms. Walking closer to her mom and staring into the warm pool of her in the eyes. At that level she felt more grownup than she had in ages. Especially, since she finally had her mom figured out. "I know why you are leaving so much."

    Lori's eyes went big. Tears filling them. "Y-you do?"

"Course." Lucy nodded, grabbing her mom's hand and squeezing it. "To grieve Dad. You don't want everyone to see." And it was true. Lori Grimes hadn't been a woman to air her secrets. Nor was she one who marketed off her grief, and scared her kids with it. "It's okay to ask for help too. I'm here, and Carl, and Uncle Shane too. If you'd let him."

She coughed on her spit. Eyebrows drawing closer as she backed away from Lucy. Feet shuffling madly. "Thank you love." She told the teenage girl. Leaning forward to press a kiss on Lucy's head as she did. Brushing down loose strains of hair in a soothing manner.

"Just be careful, if you have to go out there," Lucy told her. Almost too tall for her mom to place kisses on her head anymore. Practically the older woman's height, and still growing. She'd be there sooner rather than later. The older woman smiled at her, eyes wrinkling on the side in the way they always did when she was gazing upon Lucy or Carl. She didn't say anything but she spun around, back toward the woods. Bucket in hand, and thoughts in her head.

Lucy wanted more than anything to follow her, but if she did that, Carl would follow her. And then she wouldn't be a very good babysitter, would she? Her brother was like that. All mischief and poor ideas, and the need to follow Lucy where ever she went. He was drawing in the dirt still. Dirt stuck in his hair and staining his fingers brown. Peacefully entertaining himself. For once in his life at least.

Upon the RV roof, Dale stared down at them both. Shotgun in one hand and binoculars in the other. He was keeping watch of the surrounding area. On the lookout for the supply group, and their return to the camp. She could sneak off. Follow her mom into the woods and find out exactly what she was up to. If she was quick while Dale was turned away he wouldn't even see her. Carl might, but she was faster than the little termite. She always had been.

But then she'd have to face the woods alone . Venture deep into their shadowy tomb. Branches closing in around her like fingers reaching out to claw her. Her stomach turned. Despite Uncle Shane's reassurance that he put up a perimeter around camp. That they had set up in the safest spot possible. Lucy couldn't shake the thought that the dead, or geeks as Shane began calling them, could surround them and they wouldn't know until it was too late.

And the idea of following her mother to that doom slipped her mind. Instead, she put the headphones of her iPod in her ears. Drowning out any lingering anxiety she had about her mom's need to disappear in them, out with songs. Favorite songs.

That was until Johnny Cash came on, and a new kind of dread overtook her. One fueled by weeks of grief and lack of sleep. One she knew that she wouldn't shake. As long as she lived. Rick Grimes would always be carried with her.

• • •

FEELING SORRY FOR HERSELF, Lucy slumped down in one of Dale's lawn chairs. Shoes in the dirt, and eyes watching them as she traced along with the toe of her sneaker. In the distance, Uncle Shane was teaching Carl to tie knots. An activity Lucy declined after Shane went into a whole big speech about which knot was what. Drilling them as if in the military. For a little while, she helped her mom and Carol fold laundry they hung up to dry from the clothing line. But even that bored her too, and she quickly moved on to another task.

Lucy sighed, picking at the skin around her nails as she afternoon sun boiled on her. She wore Shane's dusty old baseball cap. The words Police sewed into the fading dark blue material. She stole it from him earlier that morning. The sun too hot and bright for Lucy to see anything without some cover. He hadn't seemed to mind. A small smile playing on his lips when he saw her sitting in the chair with it. Back to teaching Carl knots with an even bigger skip in his step.

Carl seemed happy. Content with Shane showing him the ropes, and all the things Shane and their dad got up to when they were his age. It filled Lucy's heart with a warmth only her family could. Watching them all move around the camp, content in their roles. A moment she wanted to bask in forever. But like all moments, it was fleeting. To be stashed away in Lucy's heart forever.

"Amy please sit down. You're making me nervous." In front of her, Amy paced back in forth. Stationed in front of the C.B. Waiting for some sort of sound to blare from the speakers, and tell her that her sister was alright. That the whole supply group was fine.

    Amy bit down on her nail, spinning around to face Lucy. Wild blonde hair caught in the sunlight. "It's late. They should've been back by now," she responded. Lucy looked up at the sky. The sun was almost ready to set, it would probably get dark within the next three hours or so. And being out past dark in the city with all those dead things—well, Amy was right to worry.

  "They could of found more supplies and need time to bring it all back. Or they could have run into some folks who needed help. Yeah, they could be held up by other survivors, deciding to help bring 'em back." Lucy tried, lamely.

     Her friend raised her eyebrow at her, stopping her pacing only for a moment. She wouldn't have believed herself either. Lucy had a horrible poker face. Her dad and Shane had tried to teach her poker and laughed at how easy her tell was. Uncle Shane had said she inherited her inability to lie from Rick, as he too didn't have the knack for deceit.

So Lucy imagined her anxiety-ridden face brought no ease to Amy's fretting mind.

   "Worrying won't make it better," Dale said, from the front of the RV. He and Jim, another survivor of the camp, had been tinkering with the engine all afternoon. Some busy work to keep themselves from going crazy as Amy seemed to be.

The blonde scoffed, pacing in faster circles. "She never should have gone. God, I told her not to, that Glenn had it on his own like he had wanted, but she insisted on 'pulling her weight'." Andrea, for the weeks Lucy knew her. Seemed like the type to want to take action. Do something meaningful rather than stand around and worry about the future. Her need to go with Glenn was based off of survival. She would die staying at camp. She had to get out.

   Lucy understood the feeling better than the back of her hand, but her age, and her fear of the geeks kept her from volunteering to go with the group. They wouldn't have let her anyway. Lori would have had a stroke if she tried.

   "Amy darling, Dale's right," Lori tried, having stopped her low chatter with Carol to involve herself in Amy's freakout. Even with Lucy not the one up and ready to pull her hair out, her mother's voice had a soothing effect she was going for and failed with. Amy's muscles slacked slightly at the sound of Lori's voice too. "You are just gonna make yourself sick, and then that won't do your sister any good when she comes back, having to take care of you."

   "A-and if she doesn't?" Amy's voice sounded small and childlike as she faced the older woman. She always seemed so much older and wiser than her, sometimes Lucy forgot that Amy was only five years older than her.

   "Well, I don't know her the way you do," Lori said as she straightened out one of the shirts she was holding. "But if I know anything about Andrea, it's that she is a stubborn woman. And she put her mind to goin' on this run and bringing us back supplies we needed to keep us running. I got faith in her, and the rest of them for that matter." She turned and made her voice louder to address the rest of the people nearby. "You should too."

    When Lori talked, people listened. And the whole group stopped to listen to her words. Lucy nodding along with her mother in a way she wouldn't with anyone else. She was right. Just as Oliver had been earlier. The supply group was full of survivors. Some of the best people of the camp. If anyone could make it out of the city, it would be them.

   "I'm gonna kill her when she gets back," Amy said, slumping down in the lawn chair next to Lucy. The pacing stopped with Lucy's mom's words. Replaced by a tapping of the foot, but at least she was sitting down. Rather than tiring herself out in the heat.

"Done," Dale declared, wiping his hands clean from the engine. Jim wet his dark hair with a splash of water. Letting it run down his face to cool him off before offering the cup to Dale. He nodded to Lori, who noticed the man, and nodded back. Some kind of grownup respect thing Lucy assumed, though she was never let in on the secret club. The whole camp seemed to agree with Dale's optimistic mood, going about their day with a little more kick in their step. Lucy caught her mom's eye, who was handing clean laundry to Carol for setting out to dry.

    As if on queue, the radio squawked to life, for the second time that day. "Hello base camp, can anyone out there hear me?" came T-Dog's voice through the speaker. At least ten heads jerked toward the radio. Lots of the people had slowly moved closer to the machine as the day dragged on, and there was no sign of the supply team.

    Amy jolted up, practically running towards the sound, but it was Dale who reached it first. " Hello, hello? Reception's bad on this end. Repeat."

  "Shane is that you?" came from the radio.  Lucy's stomach tightened. There was a panicked edge to T-Dog's voice that she could pick up. Even with the bad reception. Something was wrong . . .

   "Is that them," Lori asked, coming up to stand with Lucy, and Carl close on her heel. She held one of Lucy's shirts in her arms. Half folding it as she rushed over toward the growing group. Everyone gritting their teeth and holding their breath as they waited for T-Dog's next words. Held on to the false promise of safety with the string of a rope they all had been provided.

    "We're in d-deep s-hit . . . Trap-ped department store." Came his voice. Muffled with static and the panic of a man who counted his minutes. The rope snapped, and the group fell.

    Shane sighed, rubbing his head. He took in the words of T with a heavy heart. Mind rushing with what next to do. As everyone looked to him to fix it. To tell them exactly what they needed to do to save the others. Next to her, Amy gripped Lucy's hand tightly. Knuckles white, and tears streaming down her face. Her heart was cracking. But it wasn't her who spoke, but Shane, once more. "He . . . He say they trapped?"

    No one responded. No one wanted to be the one to confirm the tragedy of the supply group. No one but one. "Looks to be the case." Oliver said, gripping his sweater and pulling it further over his skinny form. "Ask him-ask him about the others. Sidney, and Glenn." He turned toward Dale. His friend nodding at him with heavy eyes of his own. Before speaking into the radio once more.

   "The others? Are they with you T?" Dale asked. An edge to his voice Lucy hadn't heard from the other man before. "Where are you?"

   Nothing. Only static. They stood there, waiting. Listening for T-Dog voice to come through again. Only it hadn't, and Miranda began to cry. Lori pulling her into a hug and drying her tears. She understood the other woman's pain better than anyone. Her husband too was declared a lost cause . . . And then dead soon after.

   "Geeks—shit th-ey everywhere!" T-dog's voice came through after a moment. Muffled and hard to understand. Lucy tipped onto the edges of her toes. Leaning forward to hear the speaker better, and what T-Dog was trying to tell them. Oliver's shoulders fell. Distinguished like the embers of a dying campfire. Sidney wasn't there. Or if he was. T-Dog didn't hear Dale's message to put him on the phone.

   Lucy gripped Amy's hand right back. Watching the way her mom comforted Miranda. She pulled Amy closer. Trying to offer the older girl some comfort in the realization her sister was trapped. Her worst nightmares had come true, but Amy only pulled away. To pace around the radio once more.

"T-Dog repeat that last." T's only response was the sound of static. "Repeat," Dale tried again but it was no use, the line had gone dead.

   Silence filled the group once more. Miranda crying into Lori's shoulder, and Amy pacing around the radio as if she thought to smash the thing. Lucy looked up at Oliver. Someone who always knew what to do. His steady heart beating furiously in the wake of what he just heard. Jaw-clenched. Eyes locked on no other than Shane Walsh. The man who would not look Oliver back in the eye. Instead focusing on his hands.

   "He said the department store," Lori confirmed as she patted Miranda's back. The other woman's dark hair falling out of her ponytail and onto her back. Sweat-soaked and sticking to her skin. Lucy nodded. Already knowing where her mother was going with her words.

     Only Dale replied. "I heard it too."

   Lucy watched her mother's brown eyes set in determination. She let go of Miranda. Passing the woman off to Carol, who had been holding onto Sophia and Carl. Beckoning the two off. To go play like kids their age were meant to. Lori stepped forward. Toward Lucy's uncle with the confliction they all felt deep in their hearts. "Shane—" she began.

   "No way!" He cut her off automatically. The wheels in his head stopped turning. Having determined a course of action they all were meant to follow then. "We don't go after them. we don't risk the group!" Oliver's eyebrows furrowed, hands shaking as he clenched them. But while Lucy thought he was gonna blow up. He only turned on his heels. Heading off toward the water where he often enjoyed sitting in the mornings.

Uncle Shane wasn't wrong. Lucy knew as much. They had all discussed it, not sending people after anyone if they were trapped, and everyone agreed. Now though, Lucy found it hard to hold up her end of the promise. Especially when they all risked their lives to try to help the rest of them. Silence washed over the group, Lucy looked around at the others for guidance on what to do but no one wanted to speak up.

   "So we're going to leave her there?" Amy said, voice cracking, and heart breaking. Her sister was everything to her. Everything she had left. The sisters had been on vacation when the outbreak hit. Right before Amy went back to college. They hadn't known what happened to the rest of their family after the lines went dead. Thousands of miles away from them.

Shane clicked his teeth. Patting her side like it would comfort her in some way. "Look Amy I know that this is not easy—"

"She volunteered to go to help the rest of us!" She spit at him. Eyes wide and looking for a friend in the crowd. She met Dale's eyes first, always moral, and always kind. But he didn't look back at her. Only down at the radio brought to static. Next she found Jim's dark circles. The man having been plagued by his own demons since he arrived. The only member of his family left alive after the outbreak. He knew what it was like to loose who he loved most in the world. Yet, he wouldn't agree with Amy then. Finally, even though Lucy figured she wouldn't. Amy's eyes found Lucy's blue ones. Tears running down her face already for her friend and her loss. If Carl had been stuck there instead of Andrea. She'd be half way to Atlanta as they spoke. She would sacrifice anything in the world to save him.

   But she wouldn't do the same for Andrea . . . It wasn't fair but it was a true thought. She had too much to loose risking everything for the older blonde woman. And if Shane said it was a bad idea—she turned away from Amy. Her confirmation that she wouldn't do anything to help the girl. Amy's face fell and tears streamed down her skin. Eyes bloodshot.

Shane rubbed his head, glancing over at Lori. "I know, and she knew the risks, right? See if she's trapped, she's gone. So we just have to deal with that." Amy's face crumbled, the last of her hope dying out.    "There's nothing we can do." A nail in the coffin.

    Amy's face went red. Ears burning with heaven's fury itself. She stomped forward. Right up to Shane's chin with daggers for eyes. "She's my sister you SON OF A BITCH!" She practically shoved the cop out of the way. With a burning force. Before taking off toward the tents. Running from the group and their lack of concern for her and her own.

     Guilt washed over Lucy's features as the crowd began to disperse. Their leader having decided for them what would happen. Sure, Uncle Shane had a good point. They had volunteered to go knowing the risks and that no one could help them. But hearing people say such and actually witnessing no one coming to help you, were two different feelings. If Carl or her mom were missing would Shane still refuse to go? Would he tell the group the same if Lucy was gone? If it had been his family rather than hers. Lucy would have slapped him if he did. Pounded on his chest and declared him the enemy rather than her uncle.

    Shane looked over at Lucy. The girl standing there drowning in her guilt. Eyes distant. Lost somewhere else with the man who staged search party after search party for people back in the force. He never left a man behind before. But Lucy was still wearing his hat. Young eyed and his to protect. He inherited the duty from his brother. "There's nothing to be done," he repeated himself. Staying a moment longer in the presence of his niece. Before slinging Dale's shotgun over his shoulder and taking off toward the woods. "I'll take first watch." He declared. Vanishing before Lucy could say another word.
      
   "I guess we're done then," Lucy thought as she watched his silhouette grow farther. She sighed, it was best for him to work it out on his own when he got in these moods. Should someone go after Amy, and see if she was alright? Should Lucy? Even though she had treated her like a friend over the past few weeks, Lucy found herself hesitating to chase her down.

   Lori kissed Lucy on the forehead. "I'll go and check on her." She ran off towards the tents. A silent request for Lucy to watch Carl between them. She sat down on the log, staring blankly at the dying flames of the campfire. All she could think about were the people they were leaving behind. Letting die.

    Jacqui promised to bring back some Twinkies after Lucy and Carl mentioned missing desserts. Andrea, who only wanted to protect her sister. She didn't deserve to die. Neither did Morales who had a family of his own to look after. Or T and Glenn two of the funniest and kindest people Lucy had met in all of this mess. And Sidney, who she rarely talked to, but seemed to have all the love in the world for his grandfather. Willing to risk it all for the other man. None of them deserved to die. None of them deserved Lucy turning her back on them.

   They went for her. For her family. For everyone. Shane wasn't right, but was he wrong? There wasn't anything she could do about it. Even if leaving people behind was a hard pill to swallow. She supposed he was their unappointed leader after all. No one wanted to step up and make the hard calls as he did.

    "Lucy." Carl appeared in front of her at some point, his big blue eyes watching her nervously.

   "So much like—No, don't need another thing to cry about now."

   She quieted her mind. "What's up Cricket?"

  He turned his nose at the childhood nickname that hadn't turned up in years. The one he declared he hated more than anything once he turned ten years old. Lucy, of course, continued to call him such. Who was he to decide what nicknames she stuck to. She liked cricket after all. "Are Andrea, Morales, and the others gonna die now?"

   Shit okay. Getting in the deep stuff then.

"I don't know Carl. I hope not," Answering that question in a way that a twelve-year-old would understand and find comfort in was hard. "But you get why we can't all go to help?"

   He nodded eagerly. To prove himself grownup enough to have the conversation with Lucy. To talk as peers rather than older sister and younger brother. "Yeah. That's what Dad did right? He helped people all the time . . . he died cause of it."

   Those words hit Lucy over the head like a hammer. The day her world ended rushing back to the surface of her mind. He said those words like one would describe the weather. His head held high in the understanding of Shane's position. It made Lucy a little uneasy, it was one thing for Shane to think that way. He needed to keep everyone in line. But Carl? He was still just a kid, and kids were supposed to believe in happy endings.

   He's seen too much death already. Felt the enteral grief of his dad's death more than any of them. Had cried every night for a month when they first arrived at the Quarry. Screaming out for the siblings dad. For their life to go back to normal. "A bad man killed Dad, Carl. Like how the monsters are bad—"

    "Are the geeks gonna kill them? Like that man killed dad?" His face scrunched in irritation at his sister's too-gentle words. He never liked beating around the bush. Much preferring to get his words out there. To understand exactly what had happened.

    "Geez, Carl. I-I don't know." She stood up, gesturing widely. "Why don't you go play with Sophia or something, and not think about it? Okay?"

    He frowned at her. "But he is gone. He's dead . . .Just like they are all gonna be."

  "They'll come back soon," Lucy tried. Voice horse and memories filled with her dad. The one person who wouldn't come back. The one she lost forever. "I promise . . ." She told him, and his eyes widened. So childlike for a moment before something else flashed in them.

   "You can't promise that Luce," he told her sadly. As if she was the one who needed him to comfort her. Instead of the other way around. It wasn't right. That was her job. Hers to worry. His was just to be a kid. Always a kid. But he kicked the dirt in front of him as he wandered off to find Sophia. Lucy letting him go without another word.

   Had she lied to him? Did she just lie to her little brother?

   When Carl was out of sight Lucy got up and went to the tree line. Putting her back against one of the trees and her face in her hands. Was she a liar now too? She didn't want to talk—No, she couldn't talk about their dad. She couldn't think about how he ended up. How the supply group might just be gone like he was. How they would be out of food within the week. Despite Lori's attempts to scavenge mushrooms and berries in the woods.

   Their bodies would be left there. Turned to the army of the dead like so many others. No funerals. No buried bodies, just like her dad. Still lying somewhere in a hospital bed. Decomposing a little more each day. Shane said he couldn't. There wasn't time to bury him he had to get out. Get back to Lucy and her family. But did the dead get him? Was he turned? Walking the streets starving for human flesh? Or was he eaten by them? Devoured with nothing left to bury.

  "I haven't forgotten you," she thought to herself, looking up to the sky where she hoped he'd be. Good people got to go to heaven, and he was the best of the best. She hadn't forgotten him. She never would either because Rick was far too amazing of a father for Lucy to ever go a day without remembering him. The eyes both she and Carl inherited. The way his nose crinkled when he laughed. The way if he was here right now she wouldn't be so afraid. He'd promise everything would be alright and move heavens and earth to keep that promise.

    For Rick Grimes never broke a promise. Not until his very last one at least. He'd be disappointed in Lucy and her lies—no but they weren't lies. Lucy couldn't face more deaths. More tragedy. The supply group would get out of the department store, and they would come back and be reunited with their families. Lucy decided the alternative was too much for her to handle.

      Her family didn't get their happy ever after. Her dad won't be coming home. But she couldn't give up on the notion altogether. She had to believe miracles still existed.

• • •

❀ SIDNEY ❀

"WE ARE SO SCREWED," T-Dog muttered, and Sidney had to agree with the sentiment. The supply run was meant to be simple. Get in and out of the city before dusk hit, and the dead, and whatever else lurked in the city, surrounded them. Arrive back at camp with more food, and just in time for dinner. To be nestled around the fire with the people they loved most by the time the crickets sang for home.

    That was the dream, but reality had an awful sense of humor. And those who risked their life for the rest of the camp had been surrounded on all sides, and fortified themselves in a Macy's department store as the dead narrowed in around them. Brought out of the holes they were meant to die in by noise. It was always noise which brought out the lurkers. Like moths to a flame, they followed light, or in this case, noise, every time.

  "Gramps told me, 'don't go into the city, my boy. You are testing our luck'. He was right, obviously." Sidney stood guard at the back door, leading out to the dumpsters. Armed with a radio lined in blood. He leaned against the door, Glenn's menace of a plan hanging over the necks of all the survivors. Glenn included. He had decided to play hero—every static a reminder of Glenn's race against the clock, to save a stranger of all people.

T-Dog shrugged, cracking his neck. "Can't say I blame him. Hell, I should have been more worried . . ." They'd been standing there fifteen minutes already. Legs bent and bats held high above their heads. Ready to pounce into action, like the springs of an old chair. Clinging onto the radio as a lifeline, and awaiting Glenn's S.O.S call back to the group—him and the rodeo clown. Riding into town on the back of a poor horse he got killed with his stupidity. The poor creature screaming out for help as the geeks surrounded it, and feasted on the guts and organs.

Perhaps it was a blessing? For the poor beast to be unable to get infected. It died quickly. No bite turning it into something wicked. Forcing the creature to transform into somebody he didn't recognize. Starving for human flesh for the rest of its miserable existence. The horse was gone, dead. They heard its screams echo outside the department store. The fire of a gun as bullets rained outside. The man, the one who forced the horse to a miserable state, climbed under a tank. Avoiding the consequences of his own actions.

Big fucking surprise!

Glenn playing hero took off at the first sound of trouble. Desperate to prove himself in a world literally burning its fucking self to the ground. They had come to the city in search of more supplies. Food and medicine being the main priorities, and Glenn abandoned ship at the first time of another soul being in danger. A man in shining with the badge of a sheriff road into town on the back of a horse. A magnet for every geek for miles. Ringing the dinner bell as T-Dog had said.

The supply group had plans to filter out the back alley of the store. Get loose of the herd's claws, and back into their truck before the geeks noticed they had been there. But, one thing they hadn't expected was the sheer size of infected who roamed the city. And of course, the sad tale of mankind's fall from the top of the food chain. Acting as the cheese to the mouse within the labyrinth of the city limits. Sidney and the group had been forced to move further into the maze. Down the aisles of the department store, and hope, the infected were either extremely stupid, and wouldn't notice them. Or they'd feast on the newcomer and his horse first. Giving the others enough time to escape the trap.

Glenn hated the plan, and obviously took matters into his own hands. Every growl, every bullet fired in response, made Sidney wince. The ringing in his ears, a constant reminder of Glenn's absence; and the very real possibility of his death.

Sidney swallowed. "When I'm geek food, at least he'll get the satisfaction of being right one last time." And if there was one consolation prize Oliver Harmon could stomach in the absence of his grandson. It was being right. Always being proven right. Perhaps it would bring him comfort in the end. One last time.

Even if Sidney failed him . . .

Morales sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "Nobody is dying here. I've got a family to get back to. So do you—we'll make it. We have to." His voice dripped with the confidence of a man scarcely proven wrong. Life had a way of working out for Morales, and his positive outlooks. Sidney pitting his unfounded optimism. Almost enough to nod his head in agreement, and turn his eyes away to their deaths brought forth by the demons at the door.

But then he thought of Gramps . . . Alone. And the anger dug deeper into his gut.

Within a moment, and as quickly as the breeze changed directions. The gunfire sounding like rockets out front, ceased. Silence following for a split second as Sidney's heart threatened to beat out of his chest. Before, the incessant screams of infected resumed. Piling up against the glass of the doors, and pounding their heads against it. Even with the chains tightly woven around the handles, the dead were multiplying by the minute. With enough force, they would break through sooner rather than later.

"Glenn shouldn't have gone to save him. That asshole is getting us all killed, and we save his life?" Andrea, a blonde lawyer who scared the crap out of Sidney, said. She paced the room, ponytail woven tightly. Gun clutched between her fingers in case of an attack. Every shadow on the wall caused her to jump. On edge in a way the person holding their only working gun should never be. But what was Sidney to do about it? He was hardly gonna steal her father's gun from her fingertips.

"And what would leaving him there have proven?" Jacqui, another survivor, folded her arms. Her dark smooth skin lined with goosebumps. Warm eyes watching the door for any moment. "We've got to pull together. Now more than ever."

"When a man is drowning you throw him a life vest, not jump in after him," Sidney said, mouth moving at its own volition. Betrayal . . . a frown formed on his lips. God, what was he doing? Glenn would always back him. Back anyone really. It had been his character to prove loyalty before anything else. But if they got themselves into deep shit out there, he prayed Glenn would leave the newcomer to the fate of his stupidity, and find his way back home.

"Exactly." Andrea used Sidney's words as a validation of her feelings. Hand flying up to point. "Not people like that. It's that asshole's fault we're in this mess," Andrea spit, with more venom than she probably intended because a moment later her lips were downturned, and she gave Jacqui a wordless apology.

The older woman reaching out and clutching Andrea's arm. Shaking off the apology like she'd shake off a second layer of skin. There was no need for one. Not when she understood the need to stand on the edge, toes dangling off. They were all there with her. They had been the whole trip.

   "He's always been like this," Sidney started saying, feeling an itch to defend his friend from the vultures. "But he's not an idi -"

  The walkie in Sidney's hand lit up, with a pulsing light. Bouncing off the radio lines until it found one stable enough to surf on. Glenn's voice roared to life in it. More static than man."I'm back. Got a guest—plus four geeks in the alley."

Fuck—Everyone jumped at the sound of his voice. Eyes wide, and surprise written plainly across their features. In their eyes, the moment Glenn stepped out the door he signed his death warrant in the blood of that horse. To be carried back to camp in a body bag. Or not at all, if the geeks got their way. No faith to be found in the twenty-two year old, and his expert dodge of death, and all things deadly.

But Sidney had. Even if he'd been worried out of his mind. "Copy. Morales and T are headed your way. Just hang tight a little longer." He nodded at T-Dog and Morales. Pulling open the heavy back door. Already suited up in the police riot gear they were able to scavenge, the pair ran outside. Morales swinging his baseball bat into the nearest geek's head.

Blood splattered across the wall outside. Guts spraying up and sprinkling the off-white with crimson. Sidney shuddered. The unnerving pit he never would have felt a year ago at the sight of blood, surfacing again. "This is crazy," Andrea said, down-turned lips sneering at the sight of the walker blood. At the two figures sprinting in through the door. Who Sidney was more focused on rather than Andrea's rant.

"You alright?" Sidney asked, scanning his friend for any signs of injury. Glenn kneeled over, hands on his knees to catch his breath. There was a reason he was the camp's only supply runner, and it wasn't his rationale. Glenn was fast. Very fast. The Saturdays Sidney spent parked on a cold bench, cheering him on as he won another track and field race, back in high school, was enough to prove such. A stabbing ache roaring up his back as he recalled those memories, and all his time dreading having to wake up in the bitter cold mornings of Michigan.

Now, those very same skills earned him an occupation at the end of the world. Supply Runner of the Atlanta Quarry—or better yet, bait for the geeks . . . how exciting!

    Glenn pulled off his blue baseball cap, red in the face, and wiping sweat from his brow. He nodded slowly, trying to muster the words to tell Sidney he was alright, but failing on account of his near death experience with the geeks outside. Sidney moved forward, to catch him if need be, but his attention caught onto something else. The shiny sheriff's badge of the newcomer. Sprinting in the door with wide eyes and wide stupidity.

   His hair was short and shaggy. Mousy in color and curling at the edges. His eyes an unsettling blue, and face pale enough for the blood in his cheeks to strike the surface. The county sheriff's uniform he wore was brown in color, and stuck to him like a second layer of skin. Sweat dripping down the fucker's face like he just took a plunge in the ocean.

    The officer took a step forward. Eyes locking and holding out his hand for Sidney to shake. The other man turned his nose up. Lips curling. "You fucking—"

    "SON OF A BITCH!" With a loud thump, the officer was thrown into the supply cabinets on the wall across from Sidney. A gun shoved in his face with a seriously pissed off blonde woman behind the barrel. "We outta kill you right now—"

   "What the FUCK Andrea?!" Sidney leaped out of dodge of her weapon. Pulling Glenn by the collar of the shirt off with him. He dusted his jeans. Eyebrows raised at her display, and the hysteria that followed in the room. Sweat dripped down her own brow as she shoved the gun further against the man's face. Teeth chattering, and hand shaking—hell, Sidney wasn't sure she knew how to fire the bullets. Although, he guessed just pressing the trigger would do it? Maybe? Hopefully? Idiots had been firing off rounds for ages after all.

    While Sidney pondered the logistics of shooting firearms, Morales was far more concerned with the pressing matter at hand. Or at least Andrea's hand, pressed up against the cop. He towered over the blonde woman's shaking frame. His tan skin prickled with beads of sweat from the Atlanta mid-September heat. His eyes bore that of irritation rather than concern. "Just chill out, Andrea . . . Back off."

   Jacqui did not have the same idea to get out of dodge like T-Dog and Sidney did, either. Instead, she rushed forward, and gripped the shoulders of the woman holding a loaded gun. "Come on," she pleaded, trying to tug her, but Andrea's grip was surprisingly strong. "Please, just ease up!"

    Andrea looked back at the group, eyes wide and mouth hanging on the floor. "Ease up? You're kiddin' right? We're dead because of this stupid asshole." And Sidney had to agree, if only slightly. Although he wasn't waving any guns up in anyone's face for it. After all, he had the sense not to make enemies where he could make friends.

   His grandma told him that, once. And he finally listened. All it took was twenty-two years, her death, and the end of the world for that to happen. But hey, maybe Sidney was evolving? Just like the dead. Well, hopefully not just like the dead. Besides, calling a woman's bluff. Especially a social justice lawyer's bluff wasn't a task Sid had been up for. Not when she had the loaded gun and the loaded heart. Like the flick of a wrist she and her gun could be set off.

   He moved three inches back . . .

   Morales didn't have the sense to fear Andrea. Probably didn't have the sense to fear much. Not when he was the size he was. All big-boned and toned in the right places. Rather than  skinny pipe cleaner like Sidney was. "Andrea, I said back the hell off." His words struck true about making it back to his family, and yet, when all was said and done. He spoke to her like a father talking down to a child. Someone easing a friend off a ledge. Gentle, and sure hearted. Morals raining through over the thunder.

    She of course did nothing. Hand still shaking up that storm. Voice muffled and cracking at the edges. The officer's piercing gaze never left Andrea's icy one. Silent declarations of intention pass between the two. Yet, there was a moment's plea there too, hidden behind his mask of arrogance. A desperate look of a man lost,

Sidney saw it in the mirror enough these days to recognize it in another. He almost felt bad for the cop, but then he pictured his grandfather waiting back at camp for him. Standing by the dirt road, an old ugly sweater, pulled tightly around him as he waited for his grandson who would never return. Then he couldn't quite muster the pity.

His voice was steady, but Sidney didn't miss a slight tremble in Morales' hand. He sighed when Andrea didn't lower the gun. "Well, pull the trigger then."

Finally, her lips shook, body trembling, and tears running down her face. But she lowered the gun from the man's head. Who continued to look her straight in the eye. No pleas to be found coming from his mouth. "We're all dead. All of us, because of you."

The newcomer shook off his descend with the wall, and the bruise on his back that was no doubt forming. He swallowed, rubbing at his neck as if he needed to claw the lies from his skin. "I-I don't understand . . ."

"Welcome to the club," Sidney added, lamely. Folding his arms and leaning back against the wall as the others decided his fate. The geeks still pounded on the door outside. Eventually the glass would shatter and they'd all become lunch. Sidney's grandfather to be left back at camp alone and . . . "Can you try them again?"

T-Dog shook his head, pulling at the walkie-talkie he had dangling from his belt. "Nah, man. There ain't a good enough signal. All we got was static." Which was true, but dread washed over Sidney all over again in his second stage of grief. Anger flashing through the edges and infecting him with the rage Andrea felt.

"You're an absolute fucking idiot," he spit out at the cop. Venom dripping from his voice, and a sort of satisfaction at the way the man's eyes blinked back. As if he'd been bitch slapped by a college student. He wrinkled his nose. "And you reek."

"Sidney—" Glenn began, but Sid only shrugged. Why should he give a shit about the man's feelings who got them all killed. Who rode into town shooting everything that moved up, like a fucking idiot, and taking all the rest of them down with him.

They should throw him out there and leave him . . . Even if Sidney's gut twitched at the thought.

"I-I," the man began stuttering, forcing himself to swallow down all the questions. All the fucking questions and none of the answers. Morales saw the struggle, and perhaps he took pity on the cop? In his own strange way.

The Morales man pulled up the sheriff by the collar of his shirt. Lifting him to his feet and pulling him forward into the department store. His feet dragging, and practically falling over as the others shuffled behind them. Trying to keep pace with Morales crusade. "Look, we came into the city to scavenge supplies. Do you know what the key to scavenging is? SURVIVING! You know the key to surviving?" Sidney did. Everyone in that room did other than Sargent dumbshit. Morales pushed him forward, slightly—to add effect. "Sneaking in and out. Not shooting up the streets like it's the O.K. Corral."

T-Dog shuffled in behind. Walkie still dangling from his belt and dancing with defiance. They hadn't reached the others. Hadn't been able to talk to Gramps. Or at least, talk to someone who could then talk to Gramps. "Every geek for miles heard you popping off round." Jacqui clicked her teeth together in agreement with her T-Dog. Bringing up the rear of their little caravan toward the flesh eating monsters.

"And you just rang the dinner bell," Andrea added. Adjusting well since trying to kill a man. Although, the cold and ruthless way she regarded him reminded him of that icy moment from before.

The newcomer swallowed down a lump in his throat, wiping his palms on his pants as he stared mouth held agape at the new people. Sidney's stomach clenched, morning's breakfast threatening to spill over.The geeks lined the outer perimeter, hundreds of them pushed up against each other, ready for a Sidney-sized dinner. The only thing that separated the group from the dead, was a surprisingly sturdy set of glass doors. Keeping back the storm of geeks from storming the whole store.

Fantastic, can the day get any better?

Well, the geeks seemed to think so—the door after hanging on to its hinges surprisingly sturdily as the combined effort of hundreds of bodies pushed against it. Began to break. Pieces flying in which ever direction it pleased. The fragments of sharp glass cracking, a line running down the middle like a jagged scar. One a bandaid wouldn't fix so easily. The dead, seemingly invincible. Used the sheer surprise of the survivors to push forward. Against it more. Teeth chopping at them all, and trying to kill them.

"Oh god!" Andrea cupped her mouth, and like the rest of the group, she had the good sense to back away from the glassy doom. "What the hell were you doing out there anyway?"

"Trying to flag the helicopter," the cop said matter-of-factly. Although, he looked a bit green in the face too.

"HELICOPTER?" T-Dog asked, eyes big, and voice heavy. Resisting the urge to physically face plant. "Man, that's crap. There ain't no damn helicopter." Gray hairs sprouted in tiny foliages of curly hair. Along the bald man's chin. Aging him exponentially to have to deal with the bullshit of Glenn's new friend. The former having been very quiet since the cop opened his mouth.

"I saw it!"

"Great, so he's crazy and stupid? Who cares? How do we get out of this mess," Sidney said, hands on his hips. The cop clenched his jaw but said nothing, disturbingly blue eyes beating on Sidney's.

Morales rubbed his face, listening to the geeks clawing at the door in the other room. "We could try that C.B. again? Contact the others."

"Others? The refugee center?" The cop looked up so eagerly, salivating at his mouth. Where had he been the past two months? Living under a rock? Better yet, did he not lay his eyes on the city as he entered the geeks lair? The destruction and mayhem caused by nothing other than bombs they released on the citizens. On the city too overrun to save.

   What was the cop's deal? And why did he keep clutching his side with wince?

Jacqui scoffed. "Yeah, the refugee center. They've got biscuits waiting in the oven for us." Much to his credit, the sheriff frowned at her. The lost puppy-dog look
replaced by a tired expression aching from his brows and mirroring him to the rest of the group. They'd all been up since dawn, eager to get out of the city as quickly as possible. To move through it with the many hours of daylight they afforded themselves.

    "We've tried—I've tried. Many fucking times," T-Dog said through gritted teeth. Picking up the device and hovering it close to his mouth. He pushed is fingers down on the mic. Only to be met with static once more. Just as he claimed he had every single time before. Yet the others survivors remained broken records, and pursued the idea of the camp coming to rescue them, time and again. "Dead."

    Morales sighed, pinching his brow, but the newcomer clicked his tongue. Waving his hand off absently. "Won't work down here, anyhow. We need to get to higher ground." With thin lips his eyes followed the staircase to the back.

"Maybe the roof?" T-Dog suggested, leaning against the archway of the rising staircase. Leading to the rooftop. T raised his eyebrows, head dipped toward the door as if to prove his point.

BANG!

The sound of gunfire rang through Sidney's ears. Vibrating against the ground. Shots had been fired, and a war had been declared on dead which stalked them. Blood would be split before the day's end and all of them knew it. Faces ranging from shocked to completely pissed off. Merle Dixon, was the culprit, and the only one arrogant enough to pull on the dead when sound was the very thing that attracted herds of them. Well other than Sheriff Dumbass.

"Oh no," Andrea panicked. "Is that Dixon?" They all looked at each other, mixed expressions of panic and irritation present on each of their faces, before taking off toward the stairs that would lead them to the roof. Sidney watched them go with a careful glance. Waiting until their bodies disappeared up the stairs and their footsteps vanished into dust.

He was alone for the first time since the dead rose and the world turned on its head. The silence deafening and barely there. As the geeks continued their song of rhythms and death—he avoided gazing upon the walking corpses outside the store, instead focusing on his bloody boots as he passed. Growling and screaming far too loud in his eardrums, threatening to burst and relive him from the pain.

    Back in Atlanta, the first time he was in the city, and the dead began to sink their teeth into their neighbors, friends, family. Sidney had figured the end had finally arrived. Some god, a myth, or a legend—had started the apocalypse and now their souls would be round up and collected. Those worthy would float onto some heavenly clouds above, and those not would fester with the demons down below. His grandmother had believed such. In the Bible at least.

   Sidney himself? Well, he had always needed to face something, look it in the eyes to believe in its glory. To tether his soul to its being. He hadn't been a believer. And the world had indeed proved him right. There was no heaven. There was no hell. Only a limbo trapped in a cage with the dead, and all the vermin people would expect to survive the end of times.

   Like Merle Dixon—Sidney grimaced. He'd rather take the geeks than another moment with the redneck. The geeks were predictable. They didn't mask their intentions like people did. They'd sooner kill you standing up than sitting down. It was comforting. . . Sorta.

    His appreciation of their honesty did little to curve the appetite of his curiosity. How did so many of them come to be bitten? Early on, within a week of the virus surfacing, the military lost the city. Dead filtering the streets and creating an army of their own. It was chaos, and it was expected. People panicked in the best of times. People cracked in a crisis. But the geeks took control of the city early on because they had the numbers. Everywhere he turned someone's throat was getting ripped out.

   How did so many come to be when the saliva of the geek had been what carried the virus? At least, that's what the group thought. They hadn't seen much of the virus since leaving the city, and that horrid highway Dale drove them through. Bodies of those trying to escape littering the ground. Cars and belongings left at standstill. As if to keep locked within a time capsule. Not to be disturbed till years later, and the historians wrote about them.

    If the geeks left enough people to write about it in the end. Sure, the creatures were pretty slow and dumb. The intelligence of a person has long since been ripped from their bodies, and replaced with an overwhelming hunger for human flesh.

Oh well! Sidney shook the thought from his head. Careful to not get lost in there like last time. The first rule of survival was to focus on the here and now. Not the maybes of yesteryears and tomorrow. Sidney was alive. The dead hadn't gotten him yet, and he'd like to keep it that way. For as long as possible. For him and his family.

Once in the storage room, Sidney slithered past the geeks outside, and toward the supplies they stashed in the back. Now cans of food and medicine were not the goal of Sidney's hunt. No, what use would he have for smuggling them away? Instead, he moved past the gathered supplies, and toward the backpacks behind them. Straight to the one and only Merle Dixon's bag.

Merle bragged about his super secret stash around camp one to many times for Sidney not to overhear of the man's drug addiction. Of the tons of Opioids he had bought and sold over the years. He unzipped the beat up camper bag. Hoping nothing would bite him as he reached his hand in, and felt around for the pills. True to his word, Merle was some kind of drug dealer, and had packs upon packs of pills and other substances stashed away.

"What a fucking shithead," Sidney said, holding up a ziplock bag filled with pill containers. Enough for the camp be set for weeks if need be, but Merle hoarded it all for himself. Typical of a man like that. He reached into the depths of hell, more commonly known as Dixon's bag, and wrestled a pill container free. Just one. For now. As he didn't want Dixon to miss his pills, and figure out the culprit to be Sidney.

    The fit Merle would have if he ever learned Sidney stole from him . . . He shuddered thinking of what Dixon would do to him. Or to Gramps.

    Behind him, the floorboards creaked. Quiet footsteps. Careful and quick—Glenn's. No one else on the supply team moved with suck timid purpose. "Dixon's a complete idiot, but do you think he's a big enough moron to not notice his stash missing?"

"I mean, I was kind of hoping . . . " Sidney shrugged, hands shaking as he zipped up his findings in his backpack.

Glenn clutched his hat between his fingers. Scrunching up the blue material into a ball of anxiety. Much like himself. "Dude, come on. You want to risk the wrath of Merle Dixon just to-to I don't know get high? Since when do you pop pills anyway?" Glenn asked. Biting the inside of his cheek and finding comfort in the iron he tasted there. The Asian man was meant to have followed the rest of the group up the stairs. Give Sidney time to make up an excuse as to why he took longer. Not accuse him outright of being a drug addict. Not be complicit to his crimes.

    The accusing glare Sidney received sent shivers down his spine. Festering in the darkest parts of his soul and melting his bones from the inside out. But he played off Glenn's questions with a plastered smile and a full body roll. "Don't look at me like that," he said, finger wagging at Glenn in disappointment. "I've already got Dixon's wrath for just existing. Even if I saved him from death itself, he'd still find a reason to piss in my face."

    Stares and comments, Sidney had gotten those his whole life. It unfortunately came with the territory of being a black man living in Michigan, but, it was nothing like the blatant racism he faced from a certain group of people in the South. Atlanta had always been pretty solid since he moved there, but there were times. There were people—he wouldn't want to be left alone with. He could feel hatred for him radiating from their pores. Anger festering in their gut and declaring him the enemy for simply existing with a darker skin-tone.

   The Dixon brothers were those types of men. He knew it from the moment they showed up at camp about five weeks back. Every time they were near the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and his body felt the biological fear of fight-or-flight. He hated them. Hated everything men like them stood for. Hatred, bigotry, racism, evilness. They made Gramps uncomfortable too. Always watching him as if he were the enemy and not their ugly asses.

    He only wanted to watch the sunrise in peace, and they—Merle, ruined it. Every single time.

  "Yeah, so stealing his junk won't piss him off in the slightest. You're right. I'm the idiot really." Glenn folded his arms. Placing his now wrinkled hat back on his head. Gramps and Glenn had the same look in their eyes when they knew they were right. A glint they both held over Sidney ever single time. It was annoying, and he wanted to say such. But what was he to say? Glenn, as he always did, made a fair point. A very fair point.

   But Sidney couldn't listen. Not this time.

   "He's hoarding this shit, Glenn!" He held up the bag. Revealing the countless pounds of pills and other medications he had secured within its depths. Red hot anger shot up Sidney's spine. Followed by a cool wave of sadness, drowning him. "This-this could have lasted us weeks. Months even. But-but he's keeping it all for himself. Him and that fuckin' weirdass brother of his. They, they have all of this!"

   "It sucks. They fucking suck," Glenn agreed. Nodding his head. "We could tell the others. Tell Shane back at camp, maybe he could do something about it?" Sidney rolled his eyes. Groaning in disbelief at Glenn's suggestion of telling the cop of all people. As if getting the law involved ever made anything better for anyone. Sure, Shane had done alright by the group so far. In lots of ways, he elected himself leader of the band of merryfuckers they all became, but he wasn't someone Sidney trusted.

   He would protect his first. Lori and the band of brats she had. That was his priority. Just as Sidney's family was his own.

   "No cops, Glenn." Sidney shook his head, and his suggestion from his mind. Their best bet was to take what they could, and stay clear of the Dixon man to clear their names of any suspicion. The smart thing to do. The thing Gramps would do. Would be never to take the pills in the first place. Never steal anything from anyone. But Sidney wasn't his grandfather, and he couldn't pull the pills from his grasp. Not when desperation reeked out of his pores and onto his skin. They hadn't found any of the strong stuff while scavenging. Not what would ease. Sidney stared down at the pill container. His mind made up and it going in his hoodie pocket, and out of view. "He's not gonna miss one bottle. Not when he's got so many."

Glenn sighed, readjusting his hat, and his patience. "That's what you think . . . Fine, I won't say anything. Especially not to Dixon." His nose scrunched up, pointing with his index finger at Sidney. "But if you get caught, you're on your own. I'm serious. I'm not getting my ass kicked for your extracurriculars this time."

"Okay, understood," Sidney said, holding his hands up in surrender. Glenn's disappointment in the pills wasn't ideal, but better him than another member of the team. Sidney could handle any question his best friend threw at him. "Maybe Dixon will fall off the building, and then we won't have to worry about the ugly bastard anymore."

Glenn smirked. "We aren't that lucky," he replied, reaching for Sidney's shoulder and pushing him forward toward the stairs. "Oliver's gonna wonder where we are now. And the rest of camp."

   Sidney pinched the bridge of his nose. Walking up the steps with the thrill of a man walking toward his doom. "He'll be worried. We've been gone longer than we planned."

   Glenn paused behind him. Bouncing on the ball of his feet. "I couldn't leave him out there Sid. It wasn't right."

    Sidney stared down at his hands. They were trembling. They hadn't stopped since the gunshots rang off the first time, and Glenn sprinted out the alleyway toward the sound. "Guess that's the difference between us. I would have left him there."

   But Glenn frowned. Grabbing Sidney's arm to pull him around to face his sincere eyes. "No, you wouldn't have—"

    I wouldn't have left you. Sidney wanted to say but he swallowed his words. What was the point of stating the obvious? They both knew Sidney would crawl his way through hell itself to save Glenn. To save his family. Besides, Glenn had known Sidney half his life. He became a master at reading between the lines of what Sidney said, and what Sidney showed. It was second nature to him.

    Instead, Sidney shrugged. Turning on the balls of his heels and started climbing again. God, how long did the stairs go on for? "Natural consequences, and all that."

"Stop being a jackass," he said. Cheeks turning pink. "Why did you want to come? A city infested with infected? Dirt. Grime. Dixon—no one could get you to step foot into the lake till you were twelve."

  "I was thirteen actually—"

   He frowned. "Sidney . . ."

    "Look I don't know." He rubbed his eyes. The natural light of the sun peeking in from up ahead. "But where you go I go. It's always been that way."

    "Yeah, it has."

Glenn hung back, staring holes into Sidney's back, but he refused to turn around. The guilt would eat him from the inside if he did. He knew it wasn't fair to be mad at Glenn, and he wasn't really, but he never listened, always thinking he knew better than everybody; especially Sidney. Glenn and his grandfather were alike in that way. They always did the right thing, and always put themselves in harms way to accomplish it. Sidney couldn't stomach doing the same. Not when their lives were just as important as everyone else's. More so if Sid was being honest.

He wondered if his grandfather would be waiting for his wayward grandson to return to him? Without him there, would anyone look out for him? Would anyone help the old man if geeks got into the camp? He couldn't run very fast, with his age. Would they leave him to get devoured by the dead?

   I'm coming home Gramps—He swore. Tears prickled his eyes as he did so. Throwing open the door to the roof with a loud CLANG! Dark eyes took a moment to adjust to the added light. A strange scene unfolding before him. The balding Merle Dixon, red in the face and pale all over, was handcuffed to a metal pipe. Yanking at the cuffs, and injuring his hand in the process. He screamed indecencies at a fed up Andrea. Who had her gun pointed at him incase he were to get loose. The wife-beater tank top he wore was stained yellow with sweat. Beats of it running down his scalp as he boiled under the afternoon sun.

   A distance away, Jacqui squatted in front of T-Dog. Who had been beaten red and purple. Right eye swollen shut, and blood dripping down his inflamed nose. She was tending to his wounds with a cotton ball and a few rolls of cloth. Water next to her as she washed the blood crusting at his eye, away. On the other side, Morales and the cop were looking over the edge of the roof. Both nursing a bruised lip and split knuckles.

   Sidney ran over to the pair needing the most attention, dropping his pack on the floor. "Oh my god, what the fuck happened?" He gestured to T's swollen lip and black eye. Bruises lining the older man's body as blood pooled down his nose.

   "He hit his head too. I don't know if he's got a concussion," Jacqui said, tone clipped.

"Okay," Sidney replied, gently prying the eye open with his fingers. "There's no blood in your sclera though, so all the damage to the eye is artificial. Can you tell me your name, date of birth, and year we are in?" Two pairs of eyebrows raised. Forehead scrunching at his words.

T-Dog looked up at him through his one eye not swollen. "All this isn't necessary. Jacqui's just got that worried edge." He was putting on a brave face, which was noble but a bit annoying in context. And with a solid glare from Jacqui, T sighed. "Theodore Douglas, January 3rd, 1975. The year, 2010."

"Good," Sidney said, grabbing his flashlight from his pack. Avoiding their gaze completely. "Follow the light with your eyes."

"My eyes? Funny," he said, chuckling a bit but without the humor a joke like that needed to land. Still, T-Dog did what Sidney asked of him, and passed the test.

"Doesn't seem like you have a concussion but just sit there, and let me know if you get sick—"

"When did you learn all of that?" Jacqui asked. Lips pressed together but not in anger. Confusion. Curiosity, maybe. But she rarely held anger—only Merle saw that side of her. Rest of the time she had been branded sweet as sugar, and everything nice. Or however, that saying went.

Glenn pushed open the door at that moment, cutting off Sidney's words. His face was downcast. Staring down at his muddy sneakers which were falling apart on him. Sidney didn't get why he still wore those beat up things. "Woah, what happened?" Glenn asked, running up behind Sidney.

"Ask that asshole," T-Dog pointed to Dixon with a pinched mouth at the same time Jacqui flipped the Dixon man off. "He tried to kill me."

Glenn's eyes widened, noticing Merle cuffed to the pipes for the first time. Andrea wandered over, plopping down next to Jacqui. "The cop, Rick. Handcuffed Dixon to the pipes after he tried to kill T-Dog, and when Morales tried to step in, he attacked him too. I knew we shouldn't have let him come with us," she decided and Sidney agreed with her.

   One look at everyone's face and he could guess what had happened. Not that any of this was much of a surprise, to begin with. Merle Dixon was a pig and a racist. Sidney generally stayed clear of the man but he would sometimes catch Merle glaring at him and his grandpa, or T, and Jacqui, and he knew what the man was.

The sheriff who Andrea referred to as Rick, came over. Kneeling in front of T-Dog."How are you doing?" he asked, eyes filled with concern.

"I'll live," T-Dog replied, humorlessly. "Just ask Doc here."

Rick stared at Sidney, eyebrow raised. "So you're a doctor then?"

Sidney felt his cheeks heat up, with everyone's eyes on him. "No." But everyone stared blankly at him. Forcing the Harmon man to elaborate his thoughts. "I wanted to be once . . . but it didn't work out that way." He coughed, forcing the memories to not surface as a grimace on his face. Or a pit in his stomach. Dreaming on what could have been was a waste of time. He didn't have patience for anymore. "Most of this was simple first aid. Can't do much else without proper supplies anyway. You got lucky T."

T-Dog gave a thumbs up. Slumping down on the ramp he had been positioned on. "Hurts like a bitch though," he said, and Sidney caught the eye of Glenn. The pills burning a hole in his pocket as T chuckled again. Voice wet. But Sidney turned away from his friend, and he buried them deeper. "I'll survive. Been hit worse than that fucker's bitch slaps."

Merle glared at the small group. Blue eyes bursting with the heat of a thousand layers of hell. He spit on the ground in front of him. Lip down-turned. "Whatta say? You—" Sidney turned away. The words on his lips unsurprising but still causing a pain in his gut he couldn't control.

The pills had to stay hidden. There was no doubt about that.

"Enough out of you!" The cop, Rick yelled at the handcuffed man. His doing no doubt. Considering no one else showed up dressed in a costume. He turned toward Sidney. Walking over and patting his shoulder in recognition. "You seemed a bit young to be a doctor." He concluded, wiping away the sweat on his brow. Before holding out his hand. "I'm Rick. I was a King County Sheriff."

A sick sense of deja vu washed over and off of him in one wave. He held out his hand. Shaking the cop's after a moment of hesitation. Cuffing Merle Dixon to the roof had its charm. Sidney couldn't lie. "Sidney Harmon."

   Rick's lip quivered. A joke hanging off of it from the glint to his smirk. "Still think I'm crazy Sidney," he said, glancing at Merle.

Sidney laughed, earning a hard glare from Merle Dixon which only fueled him with more satisfaction. "Yeah, you're still crazy man. Just a crazy I can get behind."

"Fair enough," Rick replied, the drawl of his accent more pronounced now that Sidney knew he wasn't a city folk. Atlanta hadn't developed the same deep southern drawl the rest of the state had. "Streets ain't safe."

"Now there's an understatement," Morales said, walking up to the group. Sidney sneaked a peak over the edge and quickly regretted it. Hundreds of geeks flanked the streets below. Tony dots of doom that had him nearly throwing up over the side. Making it out of the department store with that many blocking them? It was impossible.

His promise to Gramps. It was impossible.

Rick's own mood took a plummet at the streets below. Mind wheeling with his own sense of dread. His own reasons for entering a death trap. "What about under the streets? The sewers?"

"Oh, man." Morales' eyes lit up.

. . .

THE CLOCK OF THEIR DEMISE clicked on as they all filed down to the basement. Only Merle and T-Dog being left behind. Merle on account of being unhinged and dangerous. T on account of being injured and the only one fidgeting with the radio. Hopefully, he could get ahold of camp. What good it would do? Sidney wasn't sure, but he'd like to talk to Gramps. Tell him he was trying. Trying everything he could to get back to him.

The basement could hold the key to all of their problems. Or mostly the drainage pipe system. Jacqui confirming the whole city was linked up. Knowledge acquired from her time in the city's zoning office. He felt an intense desire to hug the older woman, and confess how much of a genius she was. Had she not gone with them. They would most likely be stuck. No eyes in the sewer, and no chance of ever seeing home again.

"This is it?" Morales asked, unimpressed. Staring at the opening to a drop down. A ladder nestled inside the lid and leading to eternal darkness, and whatever else laid beneath. "Are you sure?"

Glenn frowned. "I really scoped this place out the other times I was here. It's the only thing in the building that goes down." He swallowed, stepping closer to the edge with careful feet. "But I've never gone down it. Who'd want to, right?"

The others stared at each other. Determining who would be the one to brave the dark hole, and test their luck for everyone else. Sidney felt who drew the short stick before they announced it. All eyes on Glenn and his knowledge of the city. He was fast but he wasn't bullet-proof. Nor geek proof.

    "Oh great." Glenn gulped down his shaking fear.

    The tunnel was pitch black beneath them. Even with the flashlights they held over it. As if hell broke open and called to them all. "It looks abandoned. Think there aren't any geeks luring down there?" Sidney said, earning a murderous look from Glenn. He threw his hands up in surrender. "Sorry."

Andrea and Morales shared a look. "We'll be right behind you," she said. Sidney cringed. That was the worst possible idea ever, having everyone crowd up behind them would get them killed.

"No, you won't. Not you," Glenn said quickly, hand on his hips.

"Why not me," Andrea shot back. "Think I can't?"

Glenn backpedaled, and Sidney remembered what he learned about what to and what not to do when a woman was mad. "I wasn't--"

"Speak your mind," Rick said. Playing peacemaker to the group. It was strange, how much they all listened to the newcomer when he talked. Straightening up and searching for his guidance. He promised to get them all out of the city alive after all, and Sidney wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe they could do it.

Glenn sighed, debating before he rubbed his chin and spoke his mind. "Look until now, I always came here by myself. No problems—the one time I bring a group everything goes to hell." The others nodded along. Faces downcast or determined. Sidney fell into the former group. Of course Glenn was right. The one time he brought more people into the city there were problems. But he didn't mean Sidney? Did he? "No offense."

"If you want me to go down this gnarly hole, fine. But only if we do it my way." When no one objected he continued. "It's tight down there. If I run into something and have to get out quick, I don't want you all jammed up behind me and getting me killed. I'll take one person—not you either," he said to Rick, who had opened his mouth to say something. Stepping forward like he had already been chosen. Sidney bet he was never picked last for dodgeball teams. "You've got Merle's gun and I've seen you shoot. I'd feel better if you were out there in the store covering our ass. Andrea, you've got the other gun so you should go with him."

"I'll go with you," Sidney said, staring down into the empty pit beneath them. He could be brave, maybe a geek wouldn't be down there! Or maybe not. But he had been serious. Glenn and Sidney did it together. They always had.

"No," he said forcefully. "You'll stay up here with Jacqui. I'll take Morales, and you two yell down to us if anything goes wrong." Jacqui was nodding beside him, but Sidney felt his stomach drop.

"But," he swallowed. "I can help!"

"Sidney, you can't help me right now. Not by following me down there . . . just stay here with Jacqui."

    With an uneasy stomach and a beating heart Sidney felt a betrayal bigger than he thought he would, but Glenn hardly looked at him. Turning toward the others and continuing to work out the plan while Sidney stood there. Mouth open and stunned into silence. Morales, though strong and capable, hadn't been there when Glenn was being bullied every day in middle school. Hadn't hid under the bleachers with him during lunch until the ninth graders left them alone. He hadn't been there when the dead started walking, and they fled from the city.

    He was capable but there was no guarantee he'd have Glenn's back in the way Sidney did. No way he'd die for him. Not when he had his kids and wife to think of. Why wouldn't he want Sidney to go with him? He would always follow him into the dark. No matter what.

    They had been closer than friends. A brotherhood bound like no other. There was nothing they would not do for each other. Or at least Sidney thought. But Glenn hadn't looked at him since the roof . . . Since the pills.

    With one final glance at Sidney, Glenn swallowed his words. Eyes saying more than whatever words of the English language could come up with. He thought to stop him. To tell him the why. Make him understand his position, but Glenn vanished in a moment's notice, and Morales followed. There was no time to tell him. No time to explain. No time to go with him either.

Rick patted Sidney's shoulder as he walked by. "Okay, everybody knows their jobs." Shifting toward the door where him and Andrea would keep watch. But he ignored the cop, staring down at the empty abyss. The two figures long since vanished from view.

A few minutes passed by before Sidney began to feel the nerves creeping up his spine. How far could that tunnel go? Did they find a way out? Or get eaten by geeks? Jacqui was also quiet, staring at the wall while they waited for the two of them to return. They both turned toward the noise of someone climbing back up the ladder. Emerging first was Morales, with a very somber expression. With Glenn following after, who just looked pissed off.

     "There's no way through," Morales said. "Not one without a blowtorch and blazing through some geeks."

"Could we risk it?" Jacqui asked.

"No, we don't have enough time for it. Or a blowtorch. Unless either one of you is carrying one in your pockets?"

"Only some bandaids and water for me," Sidney joked, humorlessly pointing to his pack. Glenn almost sneered. Looking green in the face. His jaw tightened. Fists clenching together and secret ready to burst. You see, he had never been any good at keeping them. Not when his throat ached every time someone got close to the truth. In Sidney's pocket the pills burned a hole. Sid straightening his spine, waiting for it all to spill out.

   CRASH!

  "DAMNIT!!" Andrea screamed. A clash following her and heavy footsteps. The group lost focus on the sewers, slamming the door and running off toward her scream. Sighing, he followed. Pills weighing down his pocket. The sewer idea had become a dead end. Both in the literal and figurative sense.

Sidney, who had been the last one out of the room, felt his heart stop at what he found when he entered the main room. The glass to the outer set of double doors had been smashed, and the geeks were filing in. Pushing up against the second and pounding on the glass with closed fists. There had to be hundreds of them piled into the building. They'd be through in a matter of minutes, and the group still had no way out.

What a perfect fuckin' day!

"What did you find down there?" Rick asked, gun-pointing at the geeks. Even though he was talking to the group, the cop hadn't taken his eyes off the dead the whole time. Carefully observing them, ready to fire if need be, but not petrified. Not like Sidney was. Sidney was frozen in fear. The only thing on his mind being his grandpa. His grandpa all alone back at camp.

"Not a way out," Morales confirmed, his eyes also glued to the door but his expression more familiar to Sidney's own. No, if the geeks got in there was no way any of them were getting out of it alive. There were too many, and they were all too unprepared. it was now Sidney wished he came from one of those psycho doomsday prep families he and Glenn used to make fun of.

"Thanks a lot, Gram and Gramps," he thought, eyes wandering up toward the ceiling. Maybe Gram could see him now. Perhaps she was shaking her head at his stupidity. Or laughing—probably laughing. She had a wonderful sense of humor. All the way up till the end of her life.

Soon enough he'd be dead right along with her, and the first question he'd ask her was already prompted on his lips. After all, Sidney Harmon had been severely underprepared for the apocalypse, and he suffered for it. Many people did.

   Andrea's trigger finger shook. The ponytail her hair had been fashioned in coming loose in her distress. But in her hands she clutched something greater. A valuable worth more than her life. Sidney understood exactly how it felt. The honor and the responsibility of carrying one. She played with it absentmindedly in her fingers. "We need to find a way out . . . Soon."

As if on cue, the geeks pounded harder on the glass. Their decaying skin old and rotten. Melting from the skin like molten lava, until they were nothing but bones and ash. An empty vessel snapping its teeth, hoping for some relief from the constant hungry torment of being a geek. They moaned and croaked. Begging with their haunted milky white eyes, their pale fleshless skin, their decaying brains, for the sweet relief of another human to eat. To devour whole. Perhaps turn into a geek when they were done with them as well?

But there, along the edges of the door, stood a lone geek. With a sharp rock of all things. As if the creature still had a mind to nurture, he brought the rock up to the door and slammed it hard. Tiny shards of glass chipping off of the door and onto the ground. Sidney held his breath a moment. Too stunned to scream. "The glass!" He pointed. His voice high and cracking. "I-it's breaking!"

No one dared move. Caught between the lines of fight and flight. Unable to move their bodies one single inch. The dead were about to get inside. To attack all of them, and all they had to show for it was two guns, two bats, and Sidney's knife. Hardly a defense party. Hardly a campaign either.

Rick sprang into action. Clapping his hands together and moving everyone out of the way. "Everybody upstairs! Now!" He shouted, and he awoke the sleeping giants of their minds—they all did what they were told.

Praying for a miracle.

. . .

Original Author's Note:

Yay! The chapter is over. What did you all think of Sidney and the relationships I'm already developing? His season one storylines will be a lot of fun since at twenty-two he can be more involved in a lot of the canon stories taking place.

Chapter four will be about Rick's return and his reunion with Lucy.

REWRITTEN AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I decided to combine segments of Lucy's last chapter (in the original version) and Sidney in this chapter because I think story beat wise it makes more sense, and moves it along better.  Next chapter will be the same. I'll combine the rest of Sidney's escape from Atlanta with Lucy's time back at camp, and the reunion of the Grimes family.

What did we all think of Sidney? He's definitely complicated. My goal is to make him feel realistic. He isn't a hero. Especially not to people who aren't in his family, and I personally think that's a very realistic reaction for someone to have in the apocalypse. But he does love very deeply, and there's a lot about him, the pills, and such, that we haven't discovered yet. Once we do, I think most readers will understand him and where he's coming from.

A big theme this chapter is whether sticking your neck out for people who aren't your family is even worth it? If at the end we can look after each other or only ourselves? I love to explore these different viewpoints with my characters in this story, and it definitely will be brought up again.

LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH <3