I haven't been with the RGG very long. Or whatever the others want to call it. They usually just call it "the group", or "the others", or "family".
I guess they are the closest thing I have to family now, but it doesn't feel right calling them that, not yet at least. So I call it the RGG...Rick Grimes Group.
I'm not sure they would have even let me in to the fold had it not been for the timing in which we met.
Which was in amongst the chaos of the terminus breakout.
There were only four of us left in the dark sweltering shipping container that day, waiting for what we knew was coming, when an explosion rocked it.
Then came the yelling, screaming, gun fire...walkers.
Well isn't that just great, I thought to myself.
I go from being eaten by these psychopaths to being eaten by zombies.
At least the psychopaths had the decency to kill me first.
I was comforted by the thought that it didn't look like the walkers would be able to get in the container.
That comfort was temporary as that left the very real possibility that we would starve to death or end up eating each other.
It was like the night of the living dead meets the fucking Donner party.
The buffet from hell.
I'm trying to think rationally when the door flings open and a man I haven't seen before with long dark dirty hair, scruffy face and gravely voice yells at us to "move".
He doesn't have to tell me twice.
I stay close on his ass, which is easy to spot with the red rag hanging out of his back pocket.
Necessity is the mother of invention, so when I spot a 4x4 cut into conveniently club size pieces I grab one for myself and hand off another to the other three people that were with me.
I don't have time to think, none of us do, sure they move slow, but when there are this many of them its easy to get distracted by one, and have another one get the jump on you.
And that was just when it was walkers after you, here we had other people shooting at us.
All you can do is react, so that's what we do, its not as pretty as my normal methods, but the 4x4 club works to bash in walker brains.
I do end up getting that foul smelling goop all over me, and I lose two of the others that were with me.
The part of me that still cares about others wants to stop and end it for them, but the smarter part of me says,
Its done, once bit, that's it.
I knew I needed to keep up with the mystery people that were, obviously, with the guy that let me out of the container.
So I left them behind…and kept up with the other.
I'm not the kind to run, wasn't a treadmill fan even when life was normal, I always used to joke,
"I only run when something is chasing me"
Ha ha ha ha…I had to eat those words long ago.
I started the end of the world at a size 18, I was a 14 now… Jenny Craig has nothing on Zombies.
So I had become a runner real fast, but I hadn't eaten in two days, and was weak.
But I picked up the pace when I saw a walker going after the kid in the hat.
Leaving adults behind in a pinch was one thing… letting a kid get bit, was not ok.
The dead guy was taller than me by a foot, but like all the others his bones had turned into paper and it was easy enough to bash straight into his brains.
"Thanks" breathes the kid to me.
And even in that quick encounter I could tell he was aged beyond his years.
I feel the need to stick close by the kid after that, and together we make it to the fence.
I push him forward and take my stance next to the scruffy guy, someone has to hold the walkers off while the others climb over the fence.
And while he looked as tough as nails, a little help never hurt anyone.
I had just kicked a walker down the edge when I turned and saw another one coming, teeth barred at him.
WHAM, to the face and wham wham wham into the skull once I had him down.
"c'mon you dumb asses!" Yells the carrot top version of streach Armstrong from the other side of the fence.
Mr. Scruffy pushes me towards the fence and in a flash I am over, then him.
And we run! Close on the heels of the others.

Back in the woods I follow them again, as they seem to be looking for something.
It turns out to be a bag full of weapons...i know instantly that I like these people. I have my own, far fewer, weapons stashed in these woods too. Although on the other side on a different set of tracks.
The man I now know is Rick is talking about going back to finish the job, when a woman with gray hair and blue eyes shows up silently in the distance.
Mr scruffy runs to hug her. I don't know who she is at the time. But I know she is import to everyone here, and especially to him.
There follows some personal conversation and I think about leaving...going to get my gear and leaving these people. And if I had been armed with more than a 4x4 I might have. But I was hoping to ask to have a knife, or maybe the red handled machete to defend myself with as I went back for my gear.
I give them time before I clear my throat loudly...
Ahem!
Heads snap towards me.
No, not awkward at all...
The woman turns to me and says
"I'm Carol.
"Amber" I say taking her hand.
"How long have you been with the group?"
"Oh I..." I stammer
"She joined about 20 minutes ago when she saved Carl" says that same low gravelly voice as before.
" she did dad" says hat boy...and I don't mention saving the other mans life either.
No point in tooting my own horn.
Rick turns to me and says with utter sincerity
"I'm very grateful. But before you can join us you have to answer 3 questions"
What is this? Fucking jeopardy?
"Uhhhhh...ok"
"How many walkers have you killed?"
"I haven't been keeping score...but a dozen or so"
"How many people have you killed?"
I want to lie, want to say none...but I get the idea honesty still means a lot to these people.
"Five"
"Why?"
"Because they would have killed me. And there was no way I could have outrun them, or hid from them"
He just gives one nod of his head and walks away...
What the hell does that mean?
"That means you're in. Hi I am Glen" says an oddly happy looking Asian man "and this is my wife Maggie" he introduces me to the pretty brunette woman with him.
"I'd shake your hand but that looks like it might be painful for ya" she says in a heavy southern drawl.
Looking down I notice my hands are littered with wood splinters from wielding the 4x4...
"Carol can help you with that" Glen says.
And after we all come to and settle down in a tiny cabin, she does.
"You must have really been swinging at them" she says as she cleans the wounds
"Like a major leaguer." Says scruffy behind me as he hands her clean gauze
"Thanks Daryl."
"I figure she earned a little clean gauze" he mumbles and scurries off.
That night I meet everyone, Michonne, Tara, Bob, Sasha, Judith, Rosita, Eugene, Abraham and Tyreesse.
They seem like good people...so I decide to sleep amongst them...and if I'm not dead by morning...maybe trust them.

The next day I wake up...which has turned into a daily miricle these days.
My hands throb, and I am still starving.
It's early, barely dawn and everyone around me seemed to be asleep. So I rose quietly and tip toed out of the cabin silently, rousing no one.
Carol had given me a hunting knife the night before after she bandaged my hand.
"I don't think you will try anything. And if you were stupid enough to, you wouldn't get far with this group"
"Thanks, I promise, I'm no threat to anyone here"
"I hope that's true"
So, armed with my new knife I made my way into the woods, with the sole purpose of finding some breakfast and getting my gear.
The tracks weren't far from the cabin and my gear only a little farther than that.
I get to my gear and begin to think that my idea to hide it up a tree was a bad One.
But it is what it is.
It hurt like hell! Bark isn't the nicest on the fingers under normal circumstances, and with my hands jacked up it hurt way more.
But up I go...and fish out the backpack from the crook of the tree, sling it over my shoulders, and scurry down.
When My feet hit the ground, I think "finally"
Now armed with a riffle and a bow in addition to carol's knife. I stand s chance of getting something to eat.
Sure fish sound good, or maybe some squirrels, but I was starving NOW.
I had been saving something in my bag for a special occasion... A chocolate cereal bar.
Once a part of daily life, this was now luxury.
I could not think of anything more of a special occasion than surviving a canibal camp.
It's not like that happened often, and if it did, well... I had one more left.
I walk a little ways and slump down by a tree...mmmm...food.
Then I hear a twig snap on my left, I'm up and on me feet in a flash, handgun pointed at the head of...Daryl.
"Shit you scared me" I breathe out.
I notice that as I lower my gun, he lowers his crossbow.
Crossbow?
Well look at that, two archers, no waiting.
"I saw you slip out this morning. So I followed you." He rumbles out
I sit back down. "Well if I had known that I would have asked you to climb the tree"
"You did well enough"
"Always do"
"Nice bow"
"Thanks...been using this longer than a gun"
"Same here"
I am digging around in my bag for my cereal bar, as he looms over me.
"Jeez dude sit down I am just looking for food"
He sits cross legged, with the bow still in his lap, just in case I pull something.
Part of me found that annoying. Another...understood. If the roles had been reversed...I would probably still be pointing a gun at him.
"Here." I say as I tear open the shiny silver foil of the bar and pull it in half, handing it to him.
" thanks" he says.
Real talker this one.
"Why a recurve?" He asks, referring to my bow.
I shrug "I have always used a recurve. So I guess because I am used to it. Good with it. Why a crossbow? "
"Same"
After I swallow the last of the chocolate bar I stand and say
"Ready to head back?"
He doesn't answer...just rises and heads in the right direction.
On the way back he bags five squirrels I get a rabbit and one squirrel.
More than enough for one meal for us all.
Rick, Michonne, Glenn, Maggie and Tara are outside when we show back up.
We both have our bows slung over our shoulders and game hanging from belts.
Michonne bursts out laughing and soon they all are bellowing...
Carol comes out to see what the laughter is about.
She just smiles and says "well well...I think you may want to rethink letting another one in"
Peels of laughter ring through the air. And when I look at Daryl I see a tiny half smile on his lips...well more like a quarter smile.
I think I am missing something...
"I don't think the world can handle more than one Daryl" says Rick "but maybe we can"

That was a month ago.
And now I understood what they meant about Daryl.
He was endearing, essential, and annoying as...fucking...hell.
To be fair to him, he probably found me as annoying as I found him.
Especially on days like today, when both of us are on hunting duty together, him silent as the grave...
Hmmm...not sure if that's a valid saying anymore.
And me, knowing very well as much as he does that there is next to no game in this forest, pestering him to talk.
"So how old are you?"
"Older than you think"
"I'm thirty four"
"Congratulations"
"Originaly from Texas, Houston."
"Never been out of Georgia"
"Really?"
"Yeah"
"I used to travel a lot."
"Mmmm"
"I was heading towards Tennessee when I saw the terminus signs. I was going to hole up in the smokies. I figured that with less people I would be safer."
No response
"Where you headed anywhere?"
"Jesus girl, you are going to scare away all the game." He growls
"What fucking game?! This ground is loamy and dry as hell. Any game that was here has moved on to where there is more water. We are out here chasing our asses for no real reason. So excuse the hell out of me for trying to be friendly!"
I took off back towards the cabin.
Screw this, screw him, I would eat a dandeilion salad.
It wasn't tasty as a squirrel or fish, but it did mean I didn't have to spend another uncommunicative moment with Daryl "dirty" Dixon.
I gathered dandilions, violets, mint, plantain and a few other edibles I spotted on the way.
But then I see the mother load! Barries!
I take a handful and chew greedily on them, then start stuffing the remainder into my bag.
"Amber" I look up to see Daryl coming up from the south.
I pull a play from the Daryl Dixon playbook and say nothing.
"Sorry. I'm not good at talking. It gets on people's nerves."
I sigh...
"I lost my temper. Sorry. I just have been alone for s long time now. And I like having people to talk to. I want to get to know all of you. You all took me in when you didn't have to."
"I wasn't headed anywhere really" he offers "but I had a similar thought as you. Someplace rual. Montana, Wyoming. Then I met up with the group and have been with them ever Since."
I smile at him...this is hard for him...and I just made it harder...but he is trying.
"They do kinda make you want to stay. Finding good people is rare. So you want to stick with them when you find them"
"yeah" he says as he...shyly?...helps me pick barrys.
I can't help but snigger
Daryl just looks at me and knits his brow in question
"It's just a funny sight."
"What" he says giving me that head cocked, one squint eye quarter smile thing he does.
"Big bad Daryl Dixon helping me pick raspberries. It's quite adorable"
He shrugs again in that "shy teenage boy" way that makes me want to go "awwwww" and then throw up because it's ridiculous to find this cute in a grown man.
"I will try to talk less, ask less questions" I offer
"No." He says looking up at me quickly "it's not that I don't like you talking, it's that I don't like talking about myself."
It was easy for me to understand that.
I might talk, but I never talked about the ugly, dark things in my past.
No one does.
But it was plain to see that Daryl Dixon was a man who had more ugly, dark stories than nice ones to tell.
I just nod and say "I understand. You will notice I usually keep the conversation light. The people who knew my story, or I could tell it to are gone now. Silence feels safer."
"Yeah it does" he says looking at his shoes as he walks.
"But it makes for a lonely time. Nothing but those memories to talk to."
He looks at me like I have just said something shocking. Something he never thought I would know.
And when he nods his head, I don't push it any further .
I wouldn't have wanted someone to push me any farther, and I think Daryl and I have more in common than just our preference in weapon.
So I leave him be, and simply hand him a few raspberries