Days gone by: Part 1

The sun beat down, unbearably hot to someone used to rain and mild summers. Sometimes I wish I had stayed in England, but then I would be complaining about the constant rain instead. And there'd be no way to find Hailey and Riley. Neither Luke nor I could fly a plane or sail a boat. We'd be trapped on a tiny land-mass.

Ideally, if I could go back, I'd tell Hailey and Riley to come to England. That way we'd all be together when the world ended and still have a moderately small amount of land to search if we got separated.

As it was, I was stranded on the second largest land mass on the planet, a hundred times bigger than Britain, and I had lost my family.

I kicked a rock, scowling as it skidded down the abandoned highway. Cars littered the tarmac, some half-on half-off the road as their drivers had careened into the verge. Maybe they had seen a corpse and swerved to avoid it. Maybe they had died and turned at the wheel. Some still had passengers strapped in, their corpses withered and decayed into leather-skinned husks. Not all the corpses lay dead.

The unnatural silence of the highway was punctuated by the occasional groan. There was a wide stretch of grass between the trees and the road, giving me plenty of time to see the lumbering killers before they got too close. It was why I was suffering the glare of the sun. As long as I stayed hydrated, it wouldn't creep up and kill me.

Thinking of water I stopped again and dug through my supplies. I only had one bottle of water left and took one mouthful from it. I'd have to find a river or a lake soon, which would mean heading into the forest. Or I could keep going and hope to find a house, though it might be wishful thinking to assume the taps still work. I hadn't had to deal with water before. The soldiers always left me with the truck when they scavenged for supplies.

My neutral mood soured at the thought of them. I could still feel their blood on my hands and touched the handle of my knife, technically theirs but no longer. It had spilled their blood and taken their lives. It had always been a nasty looking weapon, but seeing the devastation of the wound the tri-bladed knife had given still made me feel sick.

But it was my only weapon. The others had left only two to guard me and were coming back as I'd ended them. I barely had time to swipe the keys to their truck before they burst into the clearing, guns blazing. It seems in that moment that they didn't remember my usefulness and shot to kill.

I gunned that truck until the fuel ran out and abandoned it where it died.

For hours I wandered, avoiding the reaching arms of the dead trapped in their cars. I didn't bother dispatching them. They were harmless as they were and there was no one around. For all I knew, I was the last human being alive.

I shook my head. I couldn't think like that, not when there was a chance that my family was alive. I stopped to read the road sign and saw Atlanta signposted. I groaned at how many miles sat between me and the City, dropping to the ground and crossing my legs. My muscles ached in a deliciously relieved way and I rubbed my head, trying not to cry.

Before the soldiers took me, we were heading to Atlanta. I had to hope Hailey and Luke continued on, that I would find them there, but each day that hope felt more like a fools wish. Each day I'd wake, certain they were dead. By the time I had started on my way again I'd have managed to kid myself into thinking they were already in Atlanta, waiting for me. There was a survivors camp there, safe from the corpses and I would find them safe and happy and we'd rebuild and take back the world from the dead.

I looked up from my boots and saw the deserted highway. A corpse lumbered from the tree-line, a young woman in a yellow sundress stained with blood.

Who was I kidding? This wasn't going to end any time soon.

I stood, unsheathing the dagger and met the corpse halfway. Her bloodied jaw gaped at me. I shoved the blade through her eye socket and watched as any supposed life drained from her body. The corpse fell and I staggered back. My eyes stung as they caught on the delicate gold engagement ring on her finger. Was her fiancé still alive? Or did they turn and kill her?

I went to close her remaining eye when a sound caught my attention. It used to be such an ordinary sound but now it was as out of place as the walking dead used to be.

A car was moving down the highway, dusty as hell but still clearly a cop car. Through the windshield I could see a man in uniform driving along as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The image of a cop car driven by a cop was so bizarre to me that I didn't think to hide as he came closer. Only when he slowed beside me did I curse myself for not being cautious. It was as if I'd forgotten what happened the last time we'd encountered survivors. The soldiers had broken down and, as a mechanic, I'd offered to help – an action which resulted in them kidnapping me to make sure they wouldn't break down again.

The engine cut off, plunging me back into silence. My palms grew sweaty and I palmed the dagger, prepared to fight if I had to. The man who exited the car was dressed in a near-immaculate uniform complete with a brown sheriffs' hat. He removed said hat, dropping it onto his seat, and moved around the front of the car.

"Hey there." He said with a heavy southern drawl. He had short brown hair and a clean face, piercing blue eyes meeting mine as he loitered at the edge of the car. His gaze slide to the dagger.

"Hi." I said, still gripping the blade.

The sheriff seemed unsure of what to say next and placed his hands on his hips, regarding me carefully.

"Can you put the knife down?"

"No." I said immediately, though I relaxed my stance. "I don't know you. I'm not risking it."

"You think I'd hurt you?" He frowned.

"I wouldn't put it past anyone these days."

The man swallowed, wiping his brow and slowly drawing his gun. His eyes never left mine as he placed it on the hood of his car and raised his hands in surrender.

"I'm going to trust you not to kill me. Can you do the same?"

Truthfully I couldn't trust him, not yet, but he'd put himself at my mercy and I had to appreciate the gesture. Just looking into his eyes I could see he meant me no harm. They were kind and hopeful, something I hadn't seen in a while. I decided to take the chance.

The sheriff offered a smile as I sheathed the blade and looked at me questioningly as he reached for his gun. I bit my lip but nodded and he holstered it swiftly.

"I'm Rick Grimes." He said, holding his hand out.

I closed the distance between us with hesitant steps and accepted the gesture, shaking his hand.

"Ava Sallow."

"You're a long way from home." He said, grinning crookedly. I smiled genuinely for the first time in weeks.

"What gave me away?" I said, emphasising my heavy British accent. He chuckled.

"You heading anywhere?" He asked. "Are there others with you or are you…?"

"I'm alone. I got separated from my family a few weeks ago. They were heading to a survivors group." I said, reaching back to tighten my ponytail. With my hair as greasy as it was it was almost black as opposed to the golden brown I used to treasure.

"My family did the same. I'm a sheriff – or was a sheriff. I got shot before any of this happened and woke up a few days ago in a hospital. They were heading to Atlanta."

My eyes widened at the thought of waking up to find the world in this state, to find my family gone, and I immediately understood how he could be so trusting of me. He was like everyone in the early days of the outbreak: hopeful and certain it would be over soon.

"My family and I were heading to Atlanta when we were separated. I'm hoping they kept going." I said.

"So you're heading to Atlanta? I can give you a ride if you want?"

"I…" I trailed off, uncertain as to whether I could trust him. My gaze fell to the gun at his thigh. He could so easily draw and kill me if he desired, especially in the car. Prompted, Rick moved to the passenger door and pulled out a back bag. I gaped at the assortment of guns and stared at him as he pulled a handgun from the mix, holding it flat on his palm and out to me.

"You're giving me a gun?"

Rick shrugged.

"You might need it. Beside, I've got plenty."

"Guns aren't something you just give away, not these days."

"The way I see it," Rick said, flipping the gun over in his hands. "Friends are worth a lot more. The world has gone to shit. No one can go it alone, not with the dead walking. I'd appreciate having someone to watch my back and I'll do the same for you."

It was a refreshingly positive outlook. I'd spent too long trying to believe things could get better and failing. Rick was right. Going it alone wasn't a sustainable option most notably in terms of my sanity.

I held out my hand and Rick gave me the gun, the two of us sharing a look. There was an understanding in place now. Rick moved the bag of guns onto the back seat and I joined him in the car without even a hint of fear. I was beginning to trust him and as he turned the radio on, playing a CD of folk-music and nodding along as he drove, I began to like him too.