Summary: Well Hey there fellow Walking Dead lovers! Guess what? Yep, it's a TWD fanfiction (I'm sure there are an assload on this site since the AMC premiere XD ) So I thought I'd join in on the fun! I've been thinking about doing this for a while but haven't get around to it until now and it's what I'm going to be working on between my other projects. Honestly I barely have any idea of where this this story is gonna go but I guess we'll find out, right? It begins after Mr. Merle Dixon is left on the roof while his darling younger brother is out hunting. He may not get his venison but he does happen across quite the interesting young lady. I sure hope you like your heroine's spunky! Read on and enjoy!

Disclaimer: Despite my wishes I do not own rights to The Walking Dead nor it's characters. Oh, woe is me. Don't sue! :P

Playlist choice: Arma-goddamn-motherfuckin-geddon: Marilyn Manson

...

'I don't wanna die...I don't wanna die...I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING DIE!'

He'd gone insane. This much I could tell just by looking at his trembling belly as the man before me played emotional ping pong with himself. One moment he was chuckling and the next he was sobbing like a child who'd lost their favorite blanket. His eyes were beginning to glaze with the fever that came before death and eventual zombification. He was hunched slightly, cradling his left arm with his right as he shook, his enormous stomach reminding me of jello. Even from the three meters away in my crouched position I could see the wound festering in his left arm. No doubt he'd been bitten maybe a day or two beforehand and I could smell the rotting flesh, see the nasty boiled, discolored, and torn skin dangling from the bite as if the zombie who'd taken a taste had been in a hurry.

I'd seen plenty of bites since my first encounter with the undead. A good deal of them looked way better than the one this man was harboring. Just a few days ago this man had been a traveling companion of mine. There had been four of us. Two younger men, Thomas and Jared, an elderly woman named Dorothy and this man. Thomas and Jared had shared their demise by wandering off for a piss about two weeks ago and Dorothy sure as hell wasn't in Kansas anymore. The last I saw of her she was chewing on a toddler's leg with intestines hanging out of her mouth. This lone man and myself, Frank I think his name was, were all that had been left of the massacre at the shitty little motel my dad had picked out for us to stop in and rest. Georgia hadn't been the planned destination. We were just passing through on our way to our new home in Florida. Father dearest had acquired a new job so we'd had to pack up our shit and head south. I wasn't too worked up about it. Not like I had anything important to me in new York but if I had known we were walking into a fucking deathtrap I might have added my two cents.

Now I was stranded in foreign territory in the middle of a bloodbath and staring into the eyes of death himself. Can you say clusterfuck?

...

Every person fears something. It is a fact and anyone who says that they aren't afraid of anything is either A.) Lying. Or B.) Completely fucking nuts. Whether it be something small like spiders or snakes or even something bigger like bears or the dark. Fear is what drives human beings to do crazy, stupid, and or amazing things. When faced with our fears we can either tuck our tails between our legs and run or if backed into a corner we can lash out in ways that others would find unpredictable. I've heard a large variety of things that scare people. Dogs, the miserable yowl of a cat at five o' clock in the morning, murderers, rapists, and even roaches. I've encountered those who dread talking in front of groups, having to shit in a public restroom, and all kinds of rejection. I have yet though, to meet anyone with the same crazy and possibly ridiculous fear as myself.

I think it would be a drastic understatement on my part to state that I am afraid of people. Not even a specific type of person either. People in general scare the fucking shit out of me. I've never gotten another opinion on it but I'm sure if I ever tried to explain this stupid fear of mine, whoever was listening would just shake their head at me and walk away. I just so happen to think that being frightened of other human beings is a pretty fucking valid fear. Especially when they become flesh eating freaks but that's beside the point. I'll try to give you a couple of my favorite examples and maybe I can shed some light on the subject.

Human beings, as a species, are wired to hurt each other. No matter how 'good' and 'kind' a person pretends to be, there is always the dangerous, vicious animal lurking beneath the surface. We are animals, there's no denying that and though we may be social creatures, we aren't the best at keeping company for long periods of time. We fight a lot over stuff that just doesn't matter in the long run and even the nicest of people will not hesitate to cut your self esteem into tiny little pieces the first chance you give them. We are neglectful, jealous, bitter, and will go for the jugular and feel no remorse for it. We lie, we cheat, we steal, and we tend to be selfish beings. People rarely think of others before themselves and even on the rare occasional it does happen, someone is getting something for their troubles in the end. Greed is in our nature just like wrath, lust, gluttony, vanity, sloth, and envy. These basic emotions are hard wired into every single human being on the planet and with all I've seen in my short life here on earth, I no longer wonder why they're called the seven deadly sins.

Now why did I tell you what I'm afraid of? Why in the world would I put that kind of personal information out there for others to read, criticize, and mock? Because I want you to get a good idea of why I am the way I am. What am I like? Well, you're about to find out. Brace yourselves because it's going to be a strange, bumpy ride.

At the ripe age of twenty one years old, I was a shut in before the world ended. The name on my birth certificate is Allison Grey but to the very few who actually knew me, I was bestowed with the lovely nickname 'Mute.' I'm sure I don't really have to explain such a clever name to you all but there is something I would like to address before you start thinking you know where this is all going. I can talk. I was not born unable to speak, I just choose not to. I actually used to be quite the little chatterbox when I was younger. I could talk someones ear off if they let me and sometimes I did. I had friends and lived a pretty normal life of a kid until I turned thirteen. That's when I realized that no one had ever really listened to what I had to say. Ever. I can remember the exact day that I shut my mouth for good.

I'd been talking to my 'best friend' at the time, Ashley. Ashley and I lived right next door to one another all of our lives. We walked to school together, had class together, ate lunch together, and would always be at each others houses whenever the opportunity presented itself. I thought back then that I could never ask for a better friend. That is, until I wizened up and opened my fucking eyes to the real world. I'd been telling her about my weekend and as I talked, I didn't realize that her attentions were fixed elsewhere until a few minutes later when she turned to me and gave one of those responses that people give when they aren't really listening to a thing you say but are pretending to. My brain started to piece things together and as I sat there with my mouth hanging open, I remembered all of the times she and others had done this while I was talking and that was it for me. I'd opened my eyes and took a look around. Then my mouth clicked shut with a sharp snap of my teeth and I'd never bothered to speak another word again. What was the point of saying anything when no one was willing to lend an ear? At thirteen years old, Allison Grey had ceased to exist and had been replaced with a girl people came to know simply as 'Mute.'

Eight long and lonely years later, my silence was broken. Well, broken is far too much of a vague word to really describe the event. It was actually completely fucking shattered like a pane of fragile glass as a scream ripped from my neglected voice box at the sight of my family being devoured in front of my very eyes. The stress of puberty hadn't made me break my silence nor had the heartbreak of past loves. It took the god damned apocalypse to finally remove me from my quiet state only to throw me right back into it as I was forced to face the fact that I was the most alone I'd ever been. Yet, it still wasn't the fucking zombies that I feared the most.

My small family and I arrived in the hornet's nest the night before shit got real. Now that you know a little more about little ol' me I think it's time to get back to this story full of all kinds of shitty domino effects. Shall we?

...

I looked around frantically but surrounded by little more than the less than lovely fucking outdoors I saw no escape from Fate's nasty claws extending out towards me in invitation. It had actually been frank's idea to head for higher ground once we realized the city was lost to the dead and it had been a damn good idea until misfortune had descended upon the two of us. We'd been running for a while but with Frank's obesity, he'd needed to take a small rest. He hadn't been the only tired one and we'd taken a short breather. We'd even been smart about it ...Kind of. Both of us had been on the alert but the second I looked away, Frank was screaming like a horrified woman. It had been only a second full of chaos and complete terror and we'd gotten away. Frank even managed to keep his wound hidden from me until he'd lost his damn mind and hit me over the head with his heavy ass backpack.

Thankfully it had only been full of food so I'd been able to scramble away but that was just about the only good thing about the mess I'd wandered into.

I know what you're thinking. I could just run into the woods and lose him, right? Well let me just stop you right there and remind you that I had absolutely no idea where I was and there were flesh eaters just dying to get a taste of Allison Grey and when I panic, I'm not the best with directions. I'm the type of person that when I get scared I just run blindly in whatever direction my feet decide to carry me. If I dared to apply this failure of an escape plan I'd just get myself more lost and possibly into some deep...Scratch that and make it REALLY fucking deep shit. I think I failed to mention that I was weaponless aside from my bag but there was nothing useful in there. Just a few clothes, some notebooks, pens, an energy bar that I'd been saving for dinner, and a few other things and since I wasn't planning on throwing my panties at him I was drowning in shit's creek watching my canoe float away from me.

"I know what you were thinking...I know..I knew the second you thought about thinking about it..When it popped into your little head I saw it and I heard it and I knew...!" He was babbling, spittle dripping from his chin and for a moment his eyes rolled into the back of his head. I whimpered in confusion and his gaze was steady on me again and he flung out his right arm to point at me with a bloody index finger. his left arm swung to his side and hung there, useless. "I KNEW! You...I knew it! I knew it! I knew it all along. You were going to leave me behind. You were going to let me die out here alone..! ALONE! I KNEW!"

'What the fuck are you talking about?' I wanted to ask but my vocal chords chose that moment in time to freeze up on me, turning what would have been a perfectly logical sentence into a choked groan. No I hadn't been planning on leaving him behind. Hell, the only thing I'd been thinking about before he'd hit me over the head was my damn energy bar. I'd been starving but now the mere thought of food had my stomach twisting into itty bitty knots.

"Stop...Shut up...JUST STOP FUCKING TALKING! I don't want to hear it! I kneeeeewwwww! You thought you were so clever but you didn't know that I knew that you didn't know about your sneaky little plan..!" Frank stumbled forward, his gelatinous belly swaying over the waistband of his jeans. "Because of this, right?" He swung his left arm up and put his disgusting marred flesh on display. All I could think about was how his yelling might attract unwanted company but hell if I was going to tell him to put a lid on it.

Let me paint a little picture for you. I'm only 5'5 and weighing in at one hundred and twenty pounds with little to no muscle mass. Frank was 6'3 and at least two hundred and forty by my bullshit calculations that could easily have been waaaay off. There was no way I was going to mouth off to him in his crazed state. Cowering against the base of a tree with sharp bushes poking through my t-shirt and into my back I felt a little safe but if I opened my mouth and told him to shut his it wouldn't be pretty for me. It was best to do what I'd been doing for most of my life. Being quiet and I was damn good at it.

His hysterics turned into loud sobs for the fifth time since I'd scampered away from him like the frightened rodent I was and he pointed at his disgusting arm again, spittle flying in all directions as he shouted at me. "This is enough to make you abandon your fellow man?" That little voice in the back of my head reminded me that soon enough he wasn't going to be much of a man but I imagined my lips were super glued shut just like I had on countless other occasions when I felt the urge to talk. I couldn't talk him down from his hysteria and I wouldn't be able to restrain him so what the fuck was I supposed to do? My mind was racing in it's panicked state and offered absolutely no good ideas. Fat lot of good it did to even have a brain right then. I would have given it up for a weeks vacation in the Bahamas at the moment.

Frank didn't like my silence one bit. In fact, it downright pissed him the fuck off which didn't matter much to me. The results would have been the same whether I'd spoken or not so I'd just done what came naturally to me. I whimpered and pressed myself against the tree as if I hoped I could melt into the bark and leave Frank without a target for when he lunged forward with great staggering steps which brought him, with alarming speed for a man his size, far too close for comfort.

I scrambled through dead leaves, sticky branches, and clinging dirt and hauled myself to my feet with a grunt. Frank looked disoriented and he stood still for a moment, swaying slightly as he analyzed the spot I'd just occupied. He blinked his eyes, hard before turning his head and registering that I'd moved. No doubt that was the dementia experienced by most bite victims just before the fever takes them down. In a few hours there was no doubt that Frank would be craving people jerky.

"You won't get away. You can't.." Frank wiped the back of his hand across his mouth to wipe away the saliva that escaped in large dribbles. It left his mouth covered in clotted blood and bits of flesh. I had to fight the urge to vomit and begged my knees not to buckle. I was already feeling weak not having slept in four days straight and eating very little. I mean, why sleep when there's so much fun to be had? I hadn't touched the food that Frank had scavenged for himself. It was all candy bars and junk food so I'd steered clear of it in hopes to find actual nutrition. I was waiting to eat my measly nutrition bar when I really needed a burst of energy. Unfortunately I didn't have time for that and in my weakened state I could do little but try to stay one step ahead of the raving man staring at me like I was an extra large burger on a platter of french fries. How was I going to do that? Good question.

With my backpack feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds, I spaced my feet shoulders width apart in order to keep myself steady and poised in case he came after me again. Of course he did. "You'll pay for your selfishness!" He shouted and threw himself at me. "SHIT!" I cursed loudly and launched myself in the opposite direction, my feet scrambling for whatever footing and distance they could claim but I didn't get very far. With a strangled shout of protest I was brought to the ground by Frank's meaty hand wrapped around my right ankle. With a quick jerk, I went down hard and smacked my head on a terribly placed log. Stars exploded behind my eyes and my hands pressed to my skull as it throbbed with pain.

"I've got you now, you mute bitch!" I could hear Frank's growl of victory, so full of animosity but all I could do was groan and screw my eyes shut in pain. I heard his large body rustling through the grime on the ground as he crawled over me and I choked on a pathetic sob as I cracked my eyes open. My vision was blurry but I could make out his face, covered in blood and his spittle dripped all over my cheeks, nose, and chin as he laughed maniacally. "End of the line, girly.." He let out a sigh of victory and while I lay helplessly beneath him trying to get my senses back in gear he wrapped both hands around my throat. Immediately my air supply went kaput and my eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, my own hands instinctively going for his. I tried to pull them off. No luck. I tried to claw them off. Still not luck. So I tried a different approach.

Gasping, my lungs burning for oxygen, I did the only sensible thing I could think of. I brought one of my knees up and aimed for what I assumed was between his legs. His angry bellow reassured me that my aim had been true and as his hands loosened around my neck I used what little strength was left in me to bring my other knee up to join the first.

SUCCESS!

With his hands now cupping his thoroughly battered balls I struck out with my open palm aiming it directly upward. It was an old dirty fight move that I'd learned from my grandfather. With a grunt I slammed the base of my palm into his nose and shoved as hard as I could. Their was a stomach-churning and violent crunch as the cartilage gave way and Frank rolled off of me. Grandpa would have been mighty proud. I didn't waste a single second. Still gulping in large amounts of sweet air, I rolled and forced myself to my knees before finally standing up again. The blood rushed to my head and I stumbled, grabbing on to a tree to keep from falling over. My vision was fuzzy and I felt like I was going to pass out and my head was throbbing. No doubt if I felt around I would find some blood but I didn't feel like facing that problem just yet. I had bigger fish to fry.

Frank was back on his feet and his hatred for me burned in his eyes as he shot blood and snot out of his broken nose. I put a hand over my mouth and looked around from some sort of weapon. I would have settled for anything. A small rock to throw? A stick to fend him off? Anything. Of course I found nothing of the sort. Go figure. I just happened to be stuck in the part of the forest with nothing to pick up off the ground and throw at someone? Sure. 'That's a little cruel, fate. But I'll go with it.' I thought to myself as I looked my enemy up and down. Just another moment in my life that I was handed the short, bloody end of the stick. "You're dead, bitch." Frank hissed and for the life of me I couldn't help myself.

"I just hope I stay that way.." I grumbled and clenched my eyes shut. I wasn't going to be able to fight him off anymore. 'It's the end of the line, kiddo.' For some odd reason the voice in the back of my head had taken on the sound of John Wayne. Interesting to say the least and as I made peace with death I tried to drown out the sounds of his uneven and jerky footsteps but the closer they got the louder they became and I was unable to focus on anything else. 'Just a few more steps..' I thought to myself. 'Three...' I threw out a few apologies to my family for being unable to help them as they were torn to shreds. I remembered the look on my father's face when he shouted for me to run. I'd just stood there covered in my younger brother's blood, frozen until the light died out of his eyes. That's when I chose to run.

'Two...' I'd let out the loudest, bloodcurdling Banshee howl as the zombies descended upon my mother and I'd run for the door. I didn't realize until later that I'd been holding my brother's teddy bear until I found it stuffed into my backpack with everything else. I shouldn't have kept it but I did. It was the one thing I could hold on to to remind me of my family as they'd been instead of how they were when I last saw them. I remembered my little brother putting on little plays with his bear. They never made any sense but they'd been cute as hell to watch. I hoped the souls of my family were waiting for me on the other side. I wouldn't be able to stand eternity by myself.

'On-'

"Down, li'l lady!" It was by absolute reflex that I dropped to the ground. Or maybe it was just coincidence that at that exact moment my knees gave out and I crumbled to the ground like a wrinkled up paper doll. Either way, I'd been living far too long not to drop when someone shouted to get down. Even before the undead unleashed hell on earth I'd been an action movie buff and when someone shouts 'Down!' You best get down. It was another great lesson taught by my ex- Navy Seal grandfather. He sure was a hard ass but he taught me a damn good bit in the short time I'd had with him before the cancer had brought the tough old bird down. I was glad he hadn't lived to see what the world had become.

I kept my eyes closed tight as I heard the sound of something propelling through the air at insane speeds. A projectile. My mind began to take in the sounds and I ruled out a bullet just before whatever it was made contact with it's target. I refused to open my eyes even when I heard the deafening 'SPLURNCH!'. Even as Frank's body sagged into me I didn't move. Didn't look. Didn't make a damn sound. Why the fuck would I? I already knew it wouldn't be pretty but the warm ooze that dripped onto my forehead could not be denied. I looked up.

"Holy fucking..." I scrambled out from beneath Frank's body nailed to the tree by a bolt through his forehead. His eyes were still open. Wide and angry as blood seeped around the wound. His mouth hung slack, his teeth bared viciously. I scampered away on hands and knees, using the ground to pull myself away from the gruesome scene. "...ShitBalls!" I gasped as I finally flung myself down right in front of a pair of boots I hadn't noticed were there until that moment.

'Person! DANGER!' My instinctive fear of the human race had me throwing myself away from that pair of boots, back towards Frank's mutilated body. At least he was dead. I didn't have anything to fear from him anymore but this new person was another possible threat to my survival.

I scuffled backwards until I was pressed into a large, thorny bush. My eyes darted around until they landed on the man. 'Good job, Fate. Just when I finally accept my demise you send me a fucking redneck?' I looked him over. Once. Twice. Three times and I pressed myself further into the bushes as my Knight in shining squirrel apparel strode past me and analyzed his handiwork. He tilted his head and scrunched up his nose in disgust as he looked ol' Frank over a couple times. Then I was graced with the less than pleasant sight of him wrapping a large fist around the bolt sticking out of the back of his head and with a sharp yank, dislodged both the bolt and Frank from the tree.

I let out a sharp squeak as Frank's body fell to the ground at my feet and I kicked at his body until it was a few more inches away. I even used the toe of my shoe to turn his head so that he was no longer staring at me with those empty, bloodshot eyes. One would think that living in a world dominated by the undead I would have become accustomed to blood and death and all that fun shit. No. I was still stricken by all the carnage lain out before me. How my savior could be so indifferent befuddled me.

"Ya bit?"

My gaze snapped from Frank's lifeless, bloody form to the man wiping the blood on the bolt off on his pants. So much blood. It was never absent. I gulped and stared at my savior confused. Bit? What the hell was he talki- 'OH!' I shook my head quickly but he still eyed me with due suspicion. To be fair, I wouldn't have believed me either with the copious amounts of blood covering me from head to toe. It was matted into my hair, dried on my clothing, and there was barely enough of my skin left uncovered by the bodily fluid to even tell that I was just a pale little white girl.

His eyes never leaving me for a second, the stranger reloaded his crossbow and then pointed it at me. "Don' lie ta me. If yer bit ya best tell me now, li'l lady. Cuz if I fin' out I ain't gunna just shoot ya. I'll gut ya like a fuckin' fish fer lyin ta me." His face was stony as he spoke and I gulped down the giant lump in my throat.

'Charming..' I thought to myself as I shook my head again. I may not have looked like a million bucks at the moment but I wasn't going to be turning into a flesh-eater any time soon either. He had far less to fear from me than I did of him. Especially with the way he was aiming his crossbow directly at my face. Something I really wished he would stop doing and fast. So far it was doing little for my fear-of-people-thing.

After a few more seconds of staring at me in that hard as iron way the crossbow slowly lowered. I didn't take my eyes off the weapon as it came to hang at his side, terrified he may decide to shoot me after all, until he spoke again. "Ya alone?" This question had me hanging my head, unsure of whether to answer or not. What if he tried something? What, you ask? Anything. I know better than some others exactly what human beings are capable undead or not. It was only my intense fear of the unknown that had me nodding slowly.

Mr. Crossbow dropped his gaze to the backpack hanging off of Frank's shoulder and he knelt and scooped it up. He shook his head with a smirk as he rummaged through it's contents and then zipped it up and tossed it at me. I cringed away from the object, refusing to touch it for a moment before he finally took his first steps towards me. I inched back into the thorns drawing blood from my arms. With each step, I burrowed myself deeper until he halted. Those perceptive eyes narrowed and he cocked his head.

"Wha? Don' ya think if I wanted ta hurt ya I woulda done it by now?" He asked, lifting his crossbow in suggestion. I eyed the weapon again before analyzing his face. He didn't seem to hold any ill will towards me but ever since I'd started using my brain at the young age of thirteen I'd played everything safe. My motto in life had been 'Don't get close and you can't get hurt.' That motto had gotten me a lot and had helped me survive this long. I had no doubt that if I'd grown up like most other teenagers, desperate for some sort of social acceptance, I would have been dead the second the outbreak started. My wariness was all I could rely on at this point.

I weighed my options.

If I accepted this man's help I could probably live a bit longer. He looked like he knew what he was doing and if things got real bad he could probably hold his own. Also, I wasn't sure if I could risk going on alone. My paranoia was a good thing sometimes but when left to my own devices I'm sure it would run me ragged and send me off the edge. That state of mind would get me nowhere but dead.

On the other hand there was no telling what this man was thinking. He could have been some psycho for all I knew and could kill me at any moment. Still, I wasn't dead yet and he was the reason I was still alive so I couldn't exactly hold that against him. Damn. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. My brain, though throbbing in pain, finally kicked into gear. 'Without at least one other person I won't survive.'

I relaxed slightly and the man seemed satisfied with this enough to advance. He stepped over Frank's body and extended a hand to me. "Tha' can't be too comfortable. How bout we get ya outta them bushes?" I stared at the hand offered to me and shook me head. I never had been one to touch others willingly. Just having Frank on top of me had almost sent me into a panic attack. Even my family had a hard time getting me to accept something as simple as a hug or a pat on the back. What can I say? I liked my space and I'd never been too comfortable with letting people within touching range.

I scooted out from the bushes cautiously but he was in the way of me coming out completely so I eyed his feet, glanced back up to his face, and then dropped my gaze once more. After a few seconds of this, he seemed to understand and stepped back with his hands up. "Alrigh'. Alrigh'. I get it." He shook his head and I caught the look of amusement as he looked me over again. Obviously he found my fear of him funny. 'Sadist..' I thought bitterly as I finally removed myself from the clutches of the many thorns clawing at me.

I stood, not bothering to brush myself off, and shifted my backpack. My savior was staring at me like I was an alien. "Wha? I don' git a 'thank you' or nothin'?" He asked as I stared at Frank's backpack. Did I want to take it? No. Did the stranger want me to take it? It sure had seemed that way. Ignoring his question I cautiously bent down and took a hold of one of the straps and lifted it like it might have been contaminated with some infectious terminal disease.

I looked at the man before me and then back down at the ground before actually slinging the strap over my shoulder and securing it comfortably. "Guess not.." He mumbled. He took one last look at Frank, kicked him, and then turned with a jerk of his head. "Well, c'mon I ain't got all day." He huffed and headed off. I couldn't help myself. I stalled, reached into the bag, pulled out a twinky, and laid it on Frank's chest. It was stupid, I admit but at least that way Frank could have something with him that he loved in the afterlife. "Sorry.." I muttered to his dead body and then jogged off to follow my savior.

As we walked I remained at least three feet behind him at all times, watching the ground and making sure I maintained the spacing. I didn't wonder where we going. I didn't care. As long as I was safe and in the presence of someone who DID know where we were headed I was content. To me, every yard we walked looked the same as the one before. I'd never been good with direction and I was in unfamiliar territory so I left the navigation up to Mr. Crossbow and kept quiet like always. Every now and again he would stop and regain his bearings and I would almost fall on my face trying to keep that three feet of space between us. Any less and I would backtrack and only continue once he did.

After twenty minutes or so of silent wandering the man looked over his shoulder at me, stopped, watched me take a few steps back and then continued on. Every few seconds he did this until finally he chuckled, his crossbow resting on his shoulder. I'd made it a point to not go anywhere near that thing's path of trajectory in case it accidentally went off. At no point in time did I put myself in it's sights though it's owner didn't seem too concerned about it.

"I'm Daryl by tha way." His half-assed introduction was received but not reciprocated. After all my years of going nameless it didn't even occur to me that he might want to know the name on my birth certificate. That is, until he looked back at me and cocked his head. "Ya gonna at least tell me yer name?" He stopped. I stopped, took two steps back and watched him warily. It also didn't occur to me that we might have reached our destination, wherever that may be, until he sat down on a rather large log and rested his bow down at his feet.

I took a good look around. No, we hadn't come upon a log cabin or any type of shelter at all. It was just a small clearing with a log. Which made me wonder if I'd been wrong about this guy knowing where he was headed. In a world where the dead eat the leaving it wasn't, in my opinion, such a good idea to allow oneself to be so exposed. Yet my new companion looked completely at ease sitting there staring at me like I was the odd one. I frowned and lifted my hands, motioning to our surroundings with a curious expression.

"It's gonna be gettin' dark soon so this place is as good as any to stay till mornin." He explained. Well at least he was pretty good at reading my expressions and body language. It saved me the trouble of having to break my silence which I wouldn't have been so keen on. I shifted nervously and nibbled on my bottom lip. I was definitely not okay with this but it was pretty much my only option.

"Wha? Ya scared? Ain't hardly no walkers in these woods. Most of 'em stayed in the city an' I can take care of whatever few tha' might come round lookin' fer somethin' ta eat." This Daryl person sounded so sure of himself. I'd met a couple of people like him since the outbreak and so far none of them survived. Of course they hadn't been armed with crossbows or hunting skills either. This man had hunting skills in spades. I could tell this much just from watching him walk and I'd seen every inclination of his head as we'd made our way. Not a single sound went without thorough analyzing as well as every flicker of movement. Hunting might as well have been in his blood. I just hoped I was right.

I took a few cautious steps towards the log until sitting down on the ground with my back against it still maintaining three feet of space between Mr. Crossbow and myself. Again I heard him chuckle but he made no comment and the log beneath him creaked as he stood. I watched him closely but he made no approach. Instead he wandered around picking up a few of the larger sticks laying around. I scowled. Fate was such a bitch. When I'd been in need of a heavy stick there had been nothing but now there was an abundance? Really? Talk about some shit, huh?

I continued to observe as Daryl threw the sticks in a pile a few feet away from me. Exactly three feet, I noticed and then wandered back to log, picked up his crossbow, and pointed at me. "Stay put, alrigh'? Ima go find some more wood. With any luck I can git us a fire goin'. Gunna be cold as a bitch tuh-night." He said and once he was sure I wasn't going to move he headed back into the woods. I watched him go until he disappeared from sight.

I hadn't been alone in a while. Not so completely as I was then at least. Before the undead popped up I'd been alone plenty but it just wasn't the same. There hadn't been too much danger to look out for. Sure there were murderers and rapists on the streets and general psychos but now that people were going crazy and eating each other the game was completely different. Being alone could mean death. Especially once the sun had crept down over the horizon and Daryl hadn't returned yet.

I hadn't moved. Not a single inch had I strayed. After about ten minutes of his absence I'd pulled out one of my many notebooks and a pen and began jotting down what had taken place since my last journal entry:

Well, Frank went nuts and tried to kill me. I really wasn't expecting that one to be honest. Of all the people I've met since the outbreak I thought he was the most harmless. Guess I was wrong. I don't know when he was bitten. I'm guessing a few days ago because he was pretty fucking close to the fever coma that comes before death. I thought I was going to die. For a moment I almost wished I would just so I could be free of everything. This fear. The constant danger. Everything.
I was saved. By who? A fucking redneck of all people. I don't know anything about him aside from his name. It's Daryl. Of course I don't trust him but he hasn't tried to hurt me yet so I don't think he's a threat. Then again, I thought the same thing about Frank. I hope I'm not wrong again because I really doubt that I could hold my own against this guy. He's got a fucking crossbow and he's a damn good aim so I'm pretty sure it would be a good idea to keep my distance and just observe for now. We've stopped for the night in the middle of the woods. Not the best idea in my opinion but Daryl seems to know what he's doing. He's, no doubt, more experienced with the area so I'll just go along with him until I find a better option. IF I find a better option.
I miss home. At least in NY I knew my way around. I wonder how bad things have gotten there. If it's anything like Georgia then I'm sure there's at least one other person out there just like me. Scared, lost, confused, and did I mention scared? Fuck. Nothing else to write so I'll just hope that things get better from here.

Side note: Last bit of sleep: 4 days ago. Fucking shitballs...

After that I'd just doodled on the page until it became too dark and I was forced to just listen to all the creepy sounds of the forest. Every twig snap made me jump. Every hoot or howl had me curling my knees up tighter to my chest. Even the wind whistling through the trees egged my paranoia on. It also really didn't help when my sleep deprivation kept throwing out random bits of hallucinations. To say I was exhausted was a drastic understatement. No doubt I'd sleep like a log if I got the chance any time soon.

Daryl had been right. As soon as the sun went down the temperature dropped and I was shivering in my jeans and thin Pink Floyd t-shirt. I tried to warm myself by rubbing my hands up and down my frigid arms but it barely helped so I began to rock a little bit hoping that the movement would warm me up. It might not have worked for heat but it sure did keep my mind occupied. So much so that I nearly screamed when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and a figure emerged from the forest on my right. I was on my feet quicker than shit but embarrassment replaced panic when I heard Daryl chuckle as he came closer.

"Damn lil lady. I ain't seen no one move that fast in a while." He dropped a large bundle of small logs and sticks onto the ones he'd collected earlier and crouched down beside it. I put my hand over my heart and tried to regulate my breathing as he fiddled with something. I couldn't tell if I was pissed off at letting myself become distracted long enough to not hear him coming or if I was embarrassed at my reaction to it. After a few seconds I heard the distinct sound of a match being stuck and after a little poking and prodding Daryl stepped back as the fire roared to life.

Goosebumps broke out all over my body as the flames instantly warmed me and eased me into a slightly more relaxed state. I sat back down and Daryl took the same spot on the log that he'd occupied earlier. He set his crossbow down again and I let out a long breath, my heart finally taking on it's usual rhythm as the sound of wood crackling and popping as it burned encompassed all and chased away the silence.

"So ya gonna tell me yer name or wha?" I glanced to him as Daryl settled himself against the log as I had done. I eyed the distance between us, deemed it acceptable, and looked back at the fire as if he hadn't spoken at all. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him shake his head as he huffed a quiet chuckle. I didn't understand why it meant so much to him to know my name. No one had ever asked it before. I was just known as the quiet girl who didn't talk to anyone. The girl with nothing to say. The girl who just watched everyone else with an observant gaze fit for a hawk. I was just a girl.

"Ya know. I think it's a lil rude not to tell the person who jus' saved yer ass yer name at least." If I'd been so inclined to speak I would have told Mr. Crossbow that I didn't give a happy rat's ass what he thought. Instead I just turned my head and glared at him only to be greeted with the sight of him grinning at me. My bitchiness faltered and I dropped my gaze. My notebook still lay next to me and I stared at it's cover. In the middle was plainly scratched 'MUTE' in giant lettering. I could remember the exact moment it had been carved into the cover.

I'd been scribbling in it as usual. I'd been in the park about a mile from my home in NY. I hadn't been hurting anyone by sitting on the swing and jotting down little notes and observations about any and all who crossed my path. It was a hobby of mine to figure people out. I liked to watch them and see if I could piece them together like a puzzle in my mind. People, though they scared me, also fascinated the ever loving shit out of me and I was always looking for the next pieces to the puzzle that was humanity.

I'd been writing about a cute toddler who was playing in the sandbox a little more than a yard from me when a couple of boys that I'd gone to high school with had wandered by. I didn't notice them and I didn't realize they'd noticed me until I heard their approaching footsteps. Out of my instincts to avoid, I hadn't even looked up hoping that they would just go by and leave me be but that became impossible when one of them called out to me.

"Hey! I remember you. You went to our school, right?" I'd just kept jotting down what was on my mind afraid to lose my train of thought. "Hey! I'm talking to you!" He exclaimed as he came to a stop directly in front of me. He blocked the sunlight with his broad body and I'd stopped writing, my pen pausing mid-stroke. I looked up to see him smirking down at me.

Yeah, I remembered him. His name had been Thomas and he hadn't been my biggest fan back when I was still in school. In fact he would do nothing but call me rude names on the off chance that I ran into him at lunch or in the hallways. He'd even shoved me into a couple of lockers a few times. Once, he'd dislocated my shoulder but I'd never done anything about it. I'd just shrugged it off with the uninjured one and went about my business. I think that's what pissed him off most. He could never get to me no matter how hard he tried.

The two boys with him just stood a bit away from us, observing. I only glanced to them for a moment before I went back to my notebook. Thomas laughed and tore it from my hands and began reading over my personal thoughts. I didn't mind. He could read as much of it as he wanted. Maybe it would clue him in that there were more important things in life than bullying others who barely registered his existance. "You're still as weird as ever!" He laughed and dangled the notebook in front of my face. "Want it back?" He attempted to goad me but I folded my hands in my lap and waited for him to go away.

A few more minutes of his mocking and he called me a few vulgar names that I let roll off of me. Then he'd smirked, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small switchblade. With a glance backwards to make sure his buddies were watching he carved my nickname into the cover and I just sat there until he was finished and threw it on the ground and stomped on it a couple of times. He followed his performance up by spitting a giant ball of mucus onto it and then walked away, laughing as if it were the funniest thing in the world to defile the opinions and thoughts of another human being. I'd just wiped the mucus off and went on writing.

I ran my finger over each sloppily carved letter. 'M'. 'U'. 'T'. 'E.' and then sighed and pushed the notebook towards the man sitting three feet away from me. I watched as he squinted at the lettering in the fire's glow. He glanced at me and then back to the notebook and shook his head. "Well I know sure as shit ya ain't mute, lil miss potty mouth..."

I was taken by surprise when he flipped open the cover and scanned over the area inside where I'd scribbled my real name just in case the notebook was ever lost. He then closed the cover again and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"It's nice ta meet ya, Allison Grey."

...

How was THAT for an intro, huh? Good? Bad? I have a bit of a biased opinion so only you readers can tell me and I would absolutely LOVE to know. Really, I would. Don't believe me? Well you should, dammit! :D Well whether you review or not I shall adore you for reading this far! Much love, yo!

-MeRci.