Alex pulled at the collar of his damp shirt, desperate for a cooling breeze as his English constitution faltered against the heat of the Georgian sun.

Rick knelt next to him on the burning bitumen, a bucket in one hand and a hose in the other.

Alex leant against the car Rick was trying to siphon fuel out of for an instant, before flinching away with a curse.

Rick glanced away from his task momentarily, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"Why is everything so bloody hot here?" Alex asked, the uncomfortable heat making him irate.

Rick snorted to himself before returning to fruitlessly attempting to siphon gas.

"What? Why's that funny?"

Rick rolled his eyes with a sigh, "Are you going to help me, or are you just going to stand there and complain?"

"I am helping, aren't I? I'm keeping watch."

"On what? There are no Walkers around, else we would have heard them."

Alex growled, "Fine, I'll help. You keep watch."

He pulled the bucket and hose from Rick's unresisting hands while the man looked on, unimpressed.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Rick asked.

Alex glared at him, "First you tell me to help, then you question whether or not I can actually help. Make up your mind."

Rick sighed again to himself, pulling away from Alex and turning to face the little breeze that there was, wafting across the hot tarmac. He knew he was being unreasonable, but he couldn't help but feel that the universe was conspiring against him, preventing him from reaching Atlanta and his last chance of finding his family.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to cool himself, both physically and emotionally. His thick police uniform was suffocating, and he couldn't help but silently agree with Alex's plaintive bemoaning of Georgia's heat.

He twitched as he heard Alex let out a little whoop of success, and heard the 'glug, glug, glug' noise of fuel as in spilled into the bucket.

He sighed again, still not opening his eyes.

"How?" He asked deadpan, refusing the raging monster at the back of his skull that wanted to throw a tantrum.

He could hear Alex's grin, "I know the American constitution, and I plead the fifth, copper. You won't get me to admit to anything."

Rick turned to Alex, willing to play his game, "Is this you admitting, without admitting anything, that you have a criminal background?"

Alex mimed zipping his lips, and threw the key away with a playful grin.

Once the bucket was almost full, and the hose pulled no more from the tank, Alex retrieved the hose. Rick took the bucket, carrying it carefully over to the police sedan.

"I'm watching this time," he told Alex, "I want to see how you do it."

Alex snorted, "Don't think I haven't got a measure of you, Mr Sheriff's Deputy. I think you're foxing, I reckon you've probably nicked a few cars in your time. Hmm…?"

Rick couldn't help the twitch his lips gave, but remained silent as he watch Alex carefully place the hose in the bucket.

Alex took a deep breath, before sucking the other end of the hose, lifting the bucket as he did so. The fuel passed the maxima of the hose's curve, and he quickly pulled his head way, shoving the hose end down into the tank on the sedan.

Alex grimace, spitting a wad of saliva onto road.

"So that's how you do that…" Rick said.

Alex rolled his eyes, "You have water?" He asked as he passed the bucket to Rick.

"On the backseat," Rick said, "Don't contaminate the bottle with fuel though."

Alex dug through the back seat, finding the cardboard box full of water bottles. He popped the cap on one, tilting his head back, he poured it into his mouth, trying to rinse the foul taste of petrol out.

"Hey! Don't waste the water," Rick exclaimed as Alex spat out a mouthful of water.

"My mouth tastes like petrol." Alex said sourly.

Rick glanced at the bucket, noticing that there were only dregs at the bottom.

"How far do you think that will get us?" Alex asked.

Rick shrugged, "No idea. Hopefully it'll get us at least to the outskirts of Atlanta."

"Well we should probably fill up again before we get too much closer to the city. The closer to the city we get, the more densely populated the area was and the higher our chances are of getting eaten."

Rick nodded in agreement, "There's a petrol station a few miles before the turn off to the city, we can fill up there."

"Okay," Alex said with a shrug, "we ready to go then?"

"Yep," Rick replied, pulling the hose out, and twisting the filler cap closed.

"Don't put that on the ground!" Alex yelped, as Rick went to drop the hose.

Alex glared at Rick, "If we're going to fill up again, we'll need it."

"But the fuel station will have pumps," Rick explained.

"We still might need it after," Alex stated blandly.

Rick rolled his eyes. Lifting the hose, he shook it to free any residue. He curled the hose up, and placed it in the bucket, tucking it into the back seat beside the box of water bottles Alex had unearthed.

Alex sighed as he slipped into the passenger's side. Rick turned the key in the ignition, and the engine spluttered and coughed.

Finally, with a loud bang of indeterminable origin, the engine roared to life.

Rick let off the handbrake, pulling away.

Alex silently let himself hope that this misadventure, this Series of Unfortunate Events, was finally coming to a close. He couldn't help but wonder if the Deputy Sheriff had bad luck, or if it was just a coincidence that Alex's life had only just started to go to hell about 10 minutes before they met.

And it was at that point that Alex realised that he still didn't know the man's name. He felt slightly flustered when he realised that he hadn't asked, and the other man hadn't offered.

He decided that he would wait. Hopefully they would meet somebody, and he would introduce himself. And then that mystery would be solved. He couldn't believe that he'd spent several hours with the man without realising that he didn't know his name.

Alex was so lost in his self-flagellation that he failed to notice the car slowing until the brakes began to whine just as Rick pulled to a stop.

Alex lifted his head, a question on his lips when he realised why they'd stopped.

Standing on the hood of a shiny black Hummer stood a young woman, frozen in an artful pose. She stood motionless, as if a statue, and Alex wondered how long she'd been frozen like that, and how she hadn't become Walker bait.

It was only then that Alex noticed the pile of mutilated Walkers piled on either side of the Hummer, and the rather obvious blood stains in front, where downed Walkers had been dragged away.

She seemed totally unfazed by the rustle of dead moving through the tree-line, but she was difficult to read, frozen as she was. It wasn't her blank expression that drew Alex's eye though. It wasn't her ratty pink and blue piggy tails, nor was it her artfully torn shirt which spelt out, 'Daddy's little monster'.

No, Alex's eyes were instead drawn to the young woman's weapon which she rested so casually on her shoulder. The baseball bat was a dark wood that made it impossible to differentiate bloodstains from wood, and the barrel was encircled by razor wire. Words were boldly printed along the side.

Alex couldn't help but appreciate the irony of the words, wishing the recipient a goodnight. If they were the last thing somebody saw, it wouldn't be a very good night.

The turned towards them, the first movement the young woman had made since they stopped. She was pouting, staring down at them with a pitiful expression.

Alex turned to see Rick's own expression, and knew nothing good could come of this.

"No," he said before Rick's hand had even reached the door handle, "don't even think about it."

"We can't leave her out here," Rick tried.

"She'll do fine by herself, but what we don't want is this car getting jacked again," Alex resisted.

"Look at her, Alex. She's harmless." Rick said.

"Harmless, my ass," Alex said to himself as Rick opened his door, the teenager reluctantly following suit.

"Good afternoon miss," Rick said, "What on earth are you doing out here by yourself?"

"Hiya Boys! I'm looking for Puddin, you seen him?" She asked, an unsettling smile dancing across her lips, so in contrast to the pout she'd sported not seconds ago.

"No ma'am, I'm afraid I don't know who Puddin is. We haven't seen anybody."

"Well you see, that's funny, 'cause the voices told me that you know where Puddin is," she said, her grin wiped from her face in an instant, "And if you don't tell me where he is, I'm afraid that they might tell me to kill you 'cause I need my Puddin."

Rick was obviously taken aback at the lady's insane countenance.

He glanced at Alex out of the corner of his eye, and waved his hand subtly in a 'get back in the car' sort of way.

Alex raised an eyebrow in exasperation, entirely fed up with the sudden acid trip the world had taken.

He moved to get back in the car, but aborted the motion when the woman yelled, suddenly furious, "You think you can run! You think you can hide! I know that you know where Puddin is, tell me and I promise I won't kill you… now."

She grinned at them sickeningly, wide and unhinged.

Alex took a deep breath, "Look lady, how about you give us a description, that way we can be sure who or what it is that you're talking about," he suggested.

She scowled, "Are you calling Puddin a thing? Are you calling my beautiful green haired, handsomeness a thing? I'm going to have to kill you now, you can't get away with calling Puddin a thing!"

Alex glanced at Rick, who mirrored the same alarmed expression.

"Was he wearing a purple suit?" Alex asked hurriedly, as the young woman leapt from the bonnet of the jeep and landed in front of the police cruiser.

She paused for a second, her head tilted to the side consideringly, her focus lazer-like on Alex.

"Yes," she said, her expression frighteningly vacant, "yes, he was."

She failed to notice as Rick's right hand crawled ever closer to his sidearm.

She waved the bat threateningly at Alex, it swayed back and forth a mere few centimetres in front of his face, like a hypnotised snake, "You know where he is?"

"Yes," Alex said, swallowing nervously, noticing that there were clumps of unidentifiable meat trapped within the barbs of the razor wire. "We met him back a few miles, we didn't speak to him though. He moved on quickly."

She scowled at Alex suspiciously, "What are you speaking? I mean, what are you saying? Are you saying what you're speaking?"

Alex watched her warily, entirely bewildered and unsure of what the correct response to such a nonsensical question was.

"I speak the truth," He tried.

"Yes, but is it the true truth, or your truth?" She demanded.

Rick's right hand had finally grasped the butt of his Colt. He made eyes at Alex, telling him silently to get in the car, to use the car as cover from the woman's vicious bat.

She leant forward and yelled, "Is it the true truth!"

He flinched backwards in a desperate dodge as she raised the bat above his head, as if to strike him.

Rick's sidearm flew from its holster, "Hand's up woman!" He yelled.

She leant back, cackling madly, ignoring the gun pointed at her, "Is it the true truth? Do you know where Puddin is?"

Alex was pale, and felt adrenaline flooding through his veins as he grasped the handle of his machete comfortingly.

"Look lady," Rick said, "We're gonna get back in the car and drive on, and you can go back to looking for Puddin, okay?"

She grinned happily and exclaimed, "Okay!"

Turning her back to them carelessly, she returning to the jeep and propped herself up on the bonnet. She waved at them patronisingly as they both cautiously returned to the vehicle.

As they drove off, Alex looked in the side mirror, and watched as she continued to wave at them long after they'd passed.

They drove in silence for a while, Alex trying to calm his heart-rate. He had a sneaking suspicion that he didn't cope well when dealing with insanity, because he was far more shaken up than he felt he should be.

It was something in the innate unpredictability of madness, he decided, that unsettled him more than the threat of imminent violence.

"Was it just me, or was that a rather anticlimactic end to what could have been are rather brilliant action seqence?" Rick asked.

"Leave me out of the bloody action scenes, "Alex grumbled, "The director doesn't pay me enough to put my life and limb on the line. And can I suggest that in the future, when we meet somebody who is obviously batshit – no matter how sexy they look- we drive straight past and don't stop."

Rick's grasp on the steering wheel was iron, his knuckles white, "We don't seem to be having a good run of things, do we?" He asked rhetorically.

Alex shrugged, "I just want to be able to say, 'I told you so'."

Rick silently cursed the kid, knowing that if he opened his mouth, a stream of vulgarities might flow uncontrolled like Niagara Falls. But he was self-aware enough to know that he had a bit of a thing for crazy, in small doses. After all, he had married Lori.