I had been watching some sitcom on T.V when a news announcement interrupted the program and began to talk about a severe virus outbreak while showing images that sent my hair to stand up straight.

The images showed people with gray skin and white eyes attacking and eating people.

The reporter who was on the scene kept screaming, "Oh my God! Oh my God!" His screams were cut off though, when a dead person came out from the side of the screen and bit deeply into his neck. The cameraman didn't last very long either. The T.V cut itself off to a solid blue screen with words flying across the screen down at the bottom.

"Holy shit," I muttered as I read the warning, telling people to remain calm and, if they can, get to the CDC in Atlanta. Apparently there was a vaccine or a cure there that could protect people from getting infected. It sounded like a long shot, but it was either head to Atlanta or possibly get killed here in Clarksville. I quickly found my backpack I had used during college and emptied it of all the old school supplies.

I loaded the backpack with every can of food I had in my pantry. I pulled my first aid kit from underneath the sink and checked it for what was inside: band-aids, gauze, Neosporin cream, moist paper towels kept in tiny little packets, and a small bottle of disinfectant. A grim thought went through my mind as I took note of this. I had better make this last until I found more supplies. I grabbed a plastic poncho that my mom had always advised that I kept in case it rained and I stuck it into the backpack. I grabbed a handful of silverware for the meals and another set of clothes. I got dressed and grabbed my wallet and car keys before taking one last look at my apartment. I had no clue when I'd ever see this place again. But I forced down the nostalgia and locked the door behind me.

That was two months ago and I was almost to Atlanta. I had joined a group for a while, lived with them inside an apartment complex until it was taken over by Undead, which was what my group called the creatures that came back to life to eat the living. And now, I was on my own again, walking beside the road just about outside of Atlanta.

The sound of a car coming from behind me made me stop. I turned to see a cop car driving, heading right towards me. It began to slow down and I cautiously put my hand on my handgun, which had been given to me by a member of my old group. The car slowed down completely and parked right next to me. A man got out and I found myself taken aback.

Most men on the road these days looked like they had been through hell. This guy was clean-shaven and he looked like he had showered recently. I felt a small sting of jealousy at the thought of a shower, but I pushed it from my mind. The man had bright blue eyes and his hair was brown, and it had a slight curl to it. He nodded at me and put his hands up in front of him, trying to show me that he wasn't going to hurt me.

"Ma'am, I'm not gonna hurt you." He said with a thick Southern drawl. I had grown up in Michigan, so the drawls that were common down here were still hard to get used to. "My name's Rick Grimes. What's yours?"

I hesitated. It was hard to know who to trust these days, but something deep in my gut told me that this Rick guy could be trusted. I removed my hand from the gun holstered to my thigh. "Terry," I said. Rick tilted his head at the sound of my name and I rolled my eyes. "It's short for Teresa and I don't like that name. So I go by Terry."

Rick gave me a small smile and nodded. "Sounds like a good enough reason to go by something else. Are you headin' up to Atlanta?"

Once again, I hesitated. But my gut told me that Rick was good. "Yeah. I take it as you are too?" Rick nodded.

"If we're going to the same place, it makes more sense if we go together." Rick said. When I didn't say anything Rick continued. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I left you here on the side of the road. We're both goin' to the same place and with the car, we'll be able to get there faster."

I frowned as I thought about it. What Rick was saying made sense. I met his eyes and nodded. Rick nodded right back at me and got back into the driver's seat. I got into the passenger seat, feeling immediately weird for sitting in a car again. Rick began to drive. I looked over to the wheel and saw how low on gas we were. Rick saw me looking.

"I found some fuel a few miles back. But it wasn't enough." Rick said. I nodded. We drove in silence for a while, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It wasn't until the engine began to moan did we even pull over for the final time. Rick and I got out of the car and glanced around, searching for some kind of building or landmark. I spotted a house what looked like a little less than a mile away. The flat land showed me everything up until the tree line. I alerted Rick about the house and we began to walk to it.

We were in silence only for a moment before Rick started to talk. "We've been together for about a hour and we don't know a thing about each other. All we know is each other's names."

I smirked. "Well, I graduated college about a year ago, and I moved down here to Georgia just for kicks. I wanted to go to a place where no one knew me, and that's what I did."

"Where'd you live before that?" Rick asked.

"Michigan." I replied. "What about you?"

Rick smiled to himself. "So you're a Yankee? And I've lived in Georgia my whole life. I was in a coma before all this happened-I got shot in an accident. I woke up and found out that the dead were up and walking."

"That must've been horrible," I said, imaging what it must've been like for Rick to be ripped from what was normal and into this terrifying new world.

"My wife and son headed for Atlanta." Rick said. "I'm goin' after them."

I glanced over to him. "How do you know that?"

"When I went to our house, all of our photo albums were gone. Some of their clothes too. A man up there told me 'bout Atlanta and I knew that my family would head straight there." Rick said with a firm voice. I had to admire his determination, chasing after people who might not even be there.

Rick and I reached the house and we glanced at each other before we walked to the house. Rick knocked on the door and I peered through the window before I recoiled. Rick looked at me with concern. I shook my head, unable to tell him about what I saw. Rick took my spot at the window and looked through. He saw the couple with their heads blown off and he had the same reaction I did.

We walked down to where a red truck was parked, in the hopes that the keys would be inside. Rick checked the gas tank but there wasn't any left. Even if there was, we had no way of taking it all the way back to the cop car; Rick had left everything except for his bags back at the car. I sighed and looked down the road, wondering how far we had left until we reached Atlanta. Rick had disappeared behind the house.

I rubbed my hand through my hair and sat down in the bed of the truck. We still had probably ten miles before we reached Atlanta, and I knew we wouldn't be able to make it by nightfall. And who knew if there was another house along this road. How were we supposed to get to Atlanta now?

My thoughts were answered by the sound of clomping hooves heading right towards me. I turned around to see Rick riding a horse, looking really proud of himself. I let out a laugh at the sight of him.

"We can make it to Atlanta with this guy," Rick said triumphantly.

"Let me carry your pack," I said. Rick swung his giant duffle bag down to me and I put it on my back, surprised by its weight. "What's in this thing? Bricks?"

"Guns," Rick said matter-of-factly. He reached down his hand for me and helped me onto the back of the horse. I adjusted the two bags on my back and wrapped y arms around Rick right as he nudged the horse. The horse let out a high-pitched whinny and began to charge through the field and down the road. We would make it to Atlanta sooner than I had thought.