A/N: Okay guys, it's my first fanfic so I understand if it's not that good. I've had the idea for awhile, and I'm pretty excited about it. Reviews would be nice so I know if I'm doing anything right or wrong. Anyways, besides that, enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead

Everyone was here, well, everyone except that Asian, Glenn.

When the walkers came onto the highway, that damn little girl screamed. She fucking screamed. The walkers, hearing her, started making a run to her. Rick had yelled to get on the vehicles and bolt to the campsites near Fort Benning, so we drove out of there before it got to messy. Daryl jumped on his motorcycle and he saw the Peltiers and the Grimes driving away together. The R.V rammed through walkers like a bulldozer, shedding some guts here and there, and Shane was right behind him in a Toyota. Then that Asian kid was driving away by himself, driving like a crazed road-hog.

He had arrived first, with the Grimes and Peltiers behind 'em. The R.V and Shane came a little later, their headlights smeared in walker blood. So far, me, the Grimes and Peltiers, Shane, Dale, Andrea and T-Dog were present. Glenn wasn't. They waited a whole day, but the boy was a no-show.

"We'll search for him tomorrow morning, for now, we have to set up camp." Rick said. As he began instructing everyone what to do, Daryl decided that he'd go hunting. He slipped away with his crossbow slung behind his back and walked into the forest.

Daryl knew he was the odd one out in the group. That scruffy red-neck who scares the shit out of you if you ever tried to cross his path. He's actually quite used to it, but he wants to be part of this group too. Sure, some of them are assholes and are as dumb as a squirrel, but there the only people he has right now. At least there better than his racist ego-centered brother Merle.

Daryl stopped walking and stared at the ground. There were signs that somebody stumbled around here. Walkers? It can't be the horde from the highway, can it? There aren't enough tracks!

He followed the tracks, until he came across vast wreckage. He looked up. There was a hill that was beside the road. The safety rail was split, and there were metal chunks littered around the hill. A dented, broken car was lying against a tree, the windows smashed in. Stale blood oozed from the open door, dripping onto the forest floor. Daryl gaped at the car. It was the exact same car Glenn was driving.

Daryl then realized he was following the tracks backwards! He was going the wrong way; Glenn was probably in opposite direction!

Daryl began back-tracking, following the trail. It led deeper into the forest and every once in a while there were big drops of blood. The kid's going to bleed out if I don't find him soon!

He continued following the tracks, until he realized there were two footprints on the ground. They were right on top of each other and one seemed like it was being dragged. Damn, don't tell me he's been kidnapped! Stupid kid.

He kept following them both. It led to a small, wooden cabin in the middle of the forest. It looked worn-out and had moss sticking on its side, it probably belonged to a redneck like him. It didn't reek of death, but the stale blood drips were on the front door, so Glenn should be in there. Slowly he approached a window. He peered into the cabin.

The thing that struck Daryl first was the first aid-kit. It looked like it was used recently, was some bandages taken out. Whoever took Glenn must be helping him, and kept him here for the days he was missing. But the place seemed abandoned now, no signs of anyone living here currently.

Daryl went over to the door and kicked the door open. It cracked open, splintering the dusty floor. Daryl carefully went around the place. There was just a small table with the first aid kit and a dirty couch. The kitchen was filthy and covered in some green crappy substance, and across from that was a small hallway. There was a nasty bathroom and a bedroom. Daryl examined the bed; it had some blood stains on it. Glenn?

He went back into the room with the first-aid kit. He grabbed it and let it hang from his waist along with his squirrels. He took the door behind the couch. He saw more signs of tracks, and they were fresher.

Daryl began following those tracks. It was still two people up until they split up. Daryl cursed. Great, now which one do I follow? He looked both ways. He suddenly noticed something blue and purple hanging from a tree branch. He approached it. It was Glenn's hat, torn and bloodied, and the blood was fairly fresher than the others, yesterday maybe?

Daryl smirked, Glenn went this way. He grabbed the hat and kept trudging forward.

The sun was beginning to sink into the ground, and night was bleeding into the sky. Daryl stubbornly went forward, the thrill of the hunt was one of Daryl's favorite kind of thrills, beside, and he didn't want to do all this just to find the kid dead. Along the way Daryl had found a few craters in the ground, like the kid was taking a nap or something. Why the hell would he sleep in the forest? I thought Asians were smarter than that!

Then he heard it. He heard a growl. Then he heard a shriek. Daryl leapt into action.

Glenn was on the floor, backed up into a tree and was staring at the walker with wide eyes. His forehead and armed were wrapped up in bandages, and he was staring at the walker like it was the most horrid thing ever.

Daryl moved in front of him and aimed at the forehead of the walker. A quick blow and it was done, the body rolling onto the floor. Daryl spun around and faced Glenn. His head was still bleeding because it showed through the. There were red stains on his white t-shirt and jeans, and he looked as if he were going to piss his pants.

Daryl grabbed Glenn's arm and dragged him up. Glenn gasped in pain, his body trembling. Daryl scoffed, "Hurry up Korea, we got to get you back to the others so we can patch up your sorry ass. What were you thinking, driving like you had twenty drinks on a Saturday night?"

Glenn suddenly pushed Daryl away. Daryl stared back. "What the hell kid? What are you doin?"

"Who are you?" He whispered.

"Huh?"

"Who are you?" He repeated, louder now. "Why did you kill that man? Why are you carrying around dead squirrels?" The little shit was trembling harder, his face looking very confused, just like mine.

"Glenn, it's me, Daryl." I said slowly, taking a step forward. "Did that wreck knock out your brain or something? Can you not remember anything?"

Glenn shook his head. "I-I, can't remember. Well, I mean, I remember waking up in this forest, and I began wandering around for awhile, when that man attacked me!" His voice was dry, as if it was barely used.

"Were you bit?" Daryl asked, searching for wounds.

Glenn shook his head. He eyed Daryl carefully and asked timidly, "Am I supposed to remember something? I mean anything important?"

Daryl sighed, "Only that the dead is coming back to life and trying to eat us and the I'm one of your... er, friends." Daryl had trouble saying that last word. Sure he went with the kid when he was scavenging for supplies, and he came hunting with him once in awhile, but Daryl wasn't sure if that meant they were friends.

Glenn nodded slowly, "So, like zombies?"

Daryl shook his head, "Naw, we call 'em walkers."

Glenn snorted. "Why? If they're zombies, why not call them zombies? What's with the stupid nicknames?"

"I don't know kid, I don't know, now come on, let's get back to camp before night time." He motioned for the kid to follow. He stumbled after him, his steps disorientated.

"Wait, what's my name again?" The kid asked.

"Glenn, your name's Glenn."

"And what's yours?"

"Daryl, Daryl Dixon."

"Well, uh, thanks for saving me Daryl."

Daryl turned around. Glenn was smiling softly, even with his wounds. He didn't stare at Daryl like he was a freak or an outcast; he just smiled at him, an actual genuine smile. Daryl fought the weird feeling in his stomach and muttered, "Yeah yeah, come on kid, I ain't got all day!"