"Get the Hell away from me, you dead piece of shit!" the girl held the animated corpse back with all her strength, pulling out her knife and stabbing it in the head. It dropped to the ground, allowing her to hobble away from the herd that was following her. She was only so fast with a large stick through her thigh, her entire leg slowly going numb with every step she took. She fell to the ground, unable to hold herself up. She attempted to crawl, not making it too far. She turned as weight fell on top of her. She held her hands out, pushing it by it's throat to avoid getting bit. Softened skin slid through her fingers, ripping off. Blood dripped onto her as she struggled to keep it off of her. She was able to stab it in the head and push it off.

She was surrounded by them, but she didn't give up. She stabbed each one as it came, but when two came at her she tried to hold them both back, unable to use her knife. Unlike herself, these things didn't get tired, making her arms grow tired. They continued to push, trying to rip her flesh. Sweat formed on her head.

This was it, this was the end.

Unexpectedly, someone stabbed them in their heads, making them fall on top of her. She pushed them off with her last bit of energy, allowing her torso to collapse on the ground. She breathed heavily, looking at who it was who helped her. She was surprised to see it was a kid, no older than 15. He wore a dark brown cowboy hat that seemed a bit too big for him. His hair went two or three inches below his ears, framing his pale face. He wore a blue baseball shirt and jeans. "Thanks kid," she sat up, only to be held at gunpoint.

"You're not gonna shoot me, kid," she held her hands up on either side of her head. The gun clicked, and he pointed it closer to her head. She swallowed, "if you wanted me dead, you would have let those deadheads rip me limb from limb."

"Maybe I just want to kill you myself," his face was serious but the look in his blue eyes said something different.

"I don't believe that. Lower the gun, I won't do anything. You just saved my life after all. Look," she lowered a hand and slid her knife towards his foot. "It's all I have." She raised her hand again, "and what am I going to do with this?" she nodded to her leg.

"Where are your people?" the boy asked her in an interrogating manner. She let her hands rest on the ground beside her. "It's just me," she looked down, remembering the last time she was with another living person. She held back tears, suppressing the memories. "What about you? Where are your people?" she asked.

"Just me," he said simply.

"I find that hard to believe. What's your name, kid?" she tried to move her leg, but it was too painful now that her adrenaline had died down.

"Carl."

"Nice to meet you Carl, I'm Harley," she stuck out her hand. He hesitated, not letting his guard down, but then lowered his gun and shook her hand quickly.

"How many walkers have you killed?" he asked. She sighed, "enough of them."

"How many people have you killed?" her eyebrows furrowed, "you must have asked these questions a lot."

"How many?" he raised the gun to her again.

"Two," she looked away.

"Why?" he kept the gun to her. She looked right into his eyes, no emotion, "because if I didn't, they would have raped my daughter." The hard expression on Carl's face seemed to soften. He was thinking for a moment, coming to a realization, "where is your daughter?"

Harley wouldn't forget it. Couldn't forget it. She wish she could. "She's," she looked down at the stick in her leg, blood soaked her grey cargo pants. "She's dead." She quickly changed the subject, "if you're going to shoot me, just do it already."

Carl put the gun in his holster, picking up her knife and handing it back to her. She looked at it momentarily before she grabbed it and put it away. He held out his hand for her, "I'll bring you to where I'm staying. My dad can help you." She grabbed his hand and he helped her to her feet.

"So I was right, you're not alone," she laughed. She put her arm around Carl and he helped her walk. Although he was relatively shorter than her, he had enough strength and stamina to help her.

They walked through the shallow depth of woods and into a quiet neighborhood. There appeared to be no walkers nearby, making their migration easy. They made it to a house, it was white with dark green accents. He led her towards the side of the house, passing the front door. There was a second door, and their last obstacle was getting up the small steps.

Harley grunted with each step they went up until they finally were able to enter the house. After closing the door, Carl walked her towards the living area where the couch was moved against the door. A man laid unconscious atop the couch. He looked to be beaten pretty badly, with half of his face swollen.

Carl dragged over a wooden chair from the kitchen for her to sit on. "Thank you. I've never gotten five star treatment from someone who previously pointed a gun at me," she joked, trying to make the kid smile. He seemed bothered by something, but hid it well.

"So, is that your father?" she asked, looking at the man on the couch. If she didn't know any better, she'd think he was dead. He didn't make a move or wake up from loud noises, and you couldn't even hear him breathing. Carl nodded. Harley raised an eyebrow, "Well, Carl, no offense, but I think he needs more help than I do." He didn't say anything, just stared at his dad's seemingly lifeless body.

Harley observed the stick inside her leg, in disbelief at how deep it was; At least 3 inches, maybe more. "Alright, kid, I just need one last favor from you. I'm going to pull this stick out of my leg, but I need another chair, and something to wrap my leg with when I'm done with it." He nodded and dragged another chair from the kitchen to her. She moved it closer and picked her leg up, putting it on the chair to straighten it and make it easier to work on. She took her backpack off and placed it on her lap, opening it and pulling out a small white box. She dug through the bag once more, grabbing a small nip of alcohol, before placing it on the floor.

Carl came back with a shirt, "this was all I could find." She looked at it, "it's perfect, thank you." She used her knife to cut the pants around the stick to get a better view. She placed her hand on the stick and gave a heavy breath before pulling it out. She yelped out in pain, throwing the bloodied stick to the ground and bending over, grasping the wound. Her hands were shaking as she grabbed the nip and poured it over. She winced, nearly dropping the bottle. She took the shirt from Carl and used her knife to shred it into two long pieces. She used one to clean the area of blood and set the other to the side. She grabbed the white box and opened it, revealing a small first aid kit. There were needles, thread, random loose pills, and band-aids. She took out the needle and thread, closing the box and tossing it to the ground. "If I weren't doing this, I'd ask you to hold my hand," she said painfully, still able to joke about things. She didn't see, but Carl let out a small smile.

She proceeded to stitch herself up. When she finished, she doused the wound in the rest of the alcohol and wrapped her leg with the second strip of shirt. She leaned back on the chair and sighed, hands bloody and shaking. "Now let's hope I get the feeling back in the rest of my leg."

"There's a room over there, if you want to rest," Carl pointed to the room and Harley smiled. She attempted to get up, almost falling over. Carl helped her and led her to the room.

"Thank you, Carl." She pulled the kid into a hug. He gave in slightly, giving a light hug back. He didn't know this woman, but so far she seemed to have a lot more in common with him than he thought upon helping her.

I have been wanting to write a fanfic for The Walking Dead for a while now. For some reason I had a lot of conflicting ideas, finally being satisfied with this one. This takes place in season 4, after the Governor and before Terminus, when Carl and Rick are by themselves. I will probably go in and out of the shows plot. Leave a review and let me know what you think and if you'd like to see more. Follow/ Favorite if you'd like.

*I do NOT own anything dealing with The Walking Dead, I am NOT affiliated with it either. I only own my original character Harley.*