I Was Doing Alright, Then I Became A Zombie Apocalypse Survivor Overnight - whatsupfoggy (2025)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Sally had been awake for, oh, not even thirty minutes before she had to deal with something phenomenally more dangerous than waking up in a completely different body.

“What the actual fuck,” she breathed out, backing away from the hallway window that she didn’t recognize. “What the actual fuck.”

Bloodied hands banged against the glass on the other side. Messy, bloody prints splattered on the window, blood dribbling down in long rivulets that made her shiver.

That was a walker. Zombie. Definitely something of the Undead variety that had a penchant for eating people.

For a moment she thought it could just be a person in really good SFX makeup—if her eyes hadn’t wandered down to the gaping hole in the walker’s chest. It was completely missing a lung and its heart entirely—she could see through the damn thing! The hole was big enough, she could probably fit her head through it.

Immediately after having that thought she felt the urge to vomit. She gagged, jerking forward preemptively with one hand over her mouth and the other wrapped around her waist and stomach to try and soothe her body. She spotted a waste basket in the corner, with a plastic baggy in it and an open cover and she had barely reached it before dropping her head down and emptying her stomach into the wastebasket.

She popped her head up a few minutes later, brow sweaty, tears running down her cheeks and collected in her eyelashes. Her nose was runny and there was spittle hanging from her mouth and connecting to the plastic bag. She breathed heavily, taking turns breathing between her nose and her mouth.

What had she been doing? What was the last thing she remembered doing? Sally remembered—she’d fallen asleep. She had fallen asleep after watching the ending to her favorite long standing TV show and wanted to restart it again from the beginning but had fallen asleep —

She sat like that.

For a while.

Clutching the wastebasket in her fingers like it was a lifeline and at any moment someone would barge into the room and try to take it from her.

Her stomach flipped uncontrollably and she stood up slowly, knees knocking against each other with the effort. She took the moment to distract herself from how shitty she felt by looking around the room she had found herself in.

Sally tries not to look at the walker that stands at the window, beating its hands against the glass, trying to get inside the room. She tries to pretend it’s just a background noise, like leaving on airplane or fan ambience like she does while she’s working or cleaning. The thought didn’t help much but anything was better than nothing so she kept at it.

She hugged the wastebasket to her chest, arms awkwardly holding the metal can to her body and looked around. It was an office of some sort but not a very big one. The way it was decorated made her think it might even be one of those temporary offices that look like they were made out of above ground mobile homes.

The walls and ceiling were wood though she doubted it was actual wood and more likely those fake slabs that builders used to make something look fancier than it actually was. The room was rectangle shaped with a desk at the end opposite her and an open door to what looked like a bathroom from what she could make out. Directly under the window was a dark green couch that was sunk in some parts and overly stuffed in others. There was duct tape on a few pieces, crisscrossed multiple times over one of the arms.

She had been laying on the couch with her mom when she had fallen asleep, and she had woken up on a different couch with a walker staring her down and the only things standing between them was the window glass and a locked door with a chair hastily pushed under it.

She turned her back on the room, making her way to the bathroom and locking the door behind her after wondering if the chair and glass would hold while she went through another period of emptying her guts.

Sally popped her head back up, about twenty minutes later if her internal clock was correct, kneeling back on her haunches and wiping at her mouth with a piece of toilet paper.

The bathroom was small—nothing more than a toilet right when you walk in and a single sink with a hazy mirror sitting above it. She flushed the vomit, watching it swirl in the toilet before disappearing completely with a gurgle. She tied the plastic baggy of her vomit up, tossing it to a corner of the bathroom and stood to wash her hands and mouth.

She made eye contact with her reflection briefly and then was startled by her appearance. She had known, when she had first woken up, it didn’t feel like her body. It was smaller, more petite than she was, and there wasn't a constant ache of pain pulsing through her like there normally was. The hair was longer too.

The woman Sally saw in the mirror wasn’t her. She was younger, maybe early twenties.

She was also a fucking ginger with sweat slicked bangs stuck to her forehead. Thin eyebrows scrunched together in confusion above small green eyes that were puffy and red from crying. Tear-stained high cheekbones with a few minor scrapes and a small burgeoning bruise on her jaw. She even had freckles now.

God, she felt like shit.

And it didn’t help that she was wearing a long sleeved white frilly blouse and a business casual black pencil skirt. She hated business casual. Detested it with every fiber of her being, really.

She left the bathroom—only after making sure the walker hadn’t gotten into the room while she was puking her guts out—in a considerably worse mood than when she had entered it. The door to the office was still locked and the chair under the handle hadn’t shifted. The walker was still there, banging against the window. There weren’t any curtains, but there were the cheap white plastic blinds that she fought with until she could get them to come down, limiting the walker’s view of her and the office.

It was far from perfect but at least it was something so she couldn’t find it in herself to complain about it.

She took stock of the office, making quick work of the filing cabinets across from the couch and the office desk. There was an older computer sitting on the top, something from the early 2010s if she had to guess. There was paperwork in the filing cabinets, something-something about finances and building materials for a construction company. She didn’t understand a lot of it and it didn’t have much of anything useful so she tossed the majority of the files and paper to the side.

She could use it to set a fire for warmth, if nothing else. (But considering the office didn’t have any windows, she would die of smoke inhalation so she tossed the idea to the side completely.)

Twenty minutes of scavenging and snooping later and she was sitting in the leather chair, her feet kicked up against the side of the desk (heels kicked off and banished to a corner of the office).

Her search left her with what was currently sitting on top of the desk. A couple snacks that were hidden away in the drawers. A bag of mini powdered donuts—half eaten. A few single bags of beef jerky, goldfish, peanut butter crackers; two water bottles and some apple juice boxes. There had been a construction hard hat in the bottommost drawer, as well as a Carhartt jacket thrown haphazardly over the back of the chair.

She poked one of the juice boxes open, sipping quietly and her gaze wandered over to the window where a shadow of the walker stood, still banging against the glass.

She had zero idea where she was—the papers she read over had an Atlanta, Georgia address—but that didn’t mean she was in Georgia at the moment. The last time she was awake, she had been in California with her mom and cousins. The closest she had ever been to the southern states was Florida for spring break during her second year of college before she left early because the family dog was sick.

She had no idea where the fuck she even was, and she didn’t feel like giving in to the curiosity of waking up in the world of the last TV show she watched before dozing off.

But there was a zombie of some kind puppy guarding her only exit and the food she did have wouldn’t last long. Another day, maybe two if she really rationed it out. But she sure as fuck wasn’t about to sit and let her last couple meals before starving be a half-eaten bag of powdered donuts and beef jerky.

With her mind made up, Sally pulled her damp hair into a low bun with rubber bands she found so that it couldn’t be easily grabbed. She scavenged a letter opener in the drawers and a pair of long scissors in another.

The Carhartt jacket was next, swinging it over her shoulders and zipping it up to her chin. It was a little baggy on her but nothing that would impede movement or be a safety risk for her. What took her the longest to do was fashioning makeshift arm protectors out of duct tape and the gaudy Playboy magazines she had found hiding in the filing cabinet.There was a backpack hanging on the back of the office door from a coat hanger and she wasted no time grabbing it and tipping out everything in it. She hoped for socks or a pair of pants but the only useful things in it was a small lunchbox and a baseball hat with a team logo that she didn’t know.

Everything else was work related and so she tossed it without remorse, quickly filling it with the food and drinks she found. After a moment of thinking, she also emptied out any office supplies she thought she would need. There was a rubber band ball, duct tape, pens, sharpies, and a couple pairs of keys that she didn’t know what they were too but if nothing else she could throw them in a pinch for an emergency sound to draw walkers away from her if there were any more outside the room.

After another look at the heels, she put them in the backpack for the same reason.

She cut a slit in the black pencil skirt up the right side of her thigh for movement and breathing room with the scissors before carefully tucking them into her chest pocket. She could hear her mothers voice screaming at her in her head for keeping something pointy and sharp so close to her body but they wouldn’t be there for very long.

She just needed to move the couch from its spot under the window to right in front of the door.

The couch was heavy, and it was a bitch to move over the carpet but eventually Sally got it in front of the door with only some minor huffing and puffing. (Her heart went out to every mover in the world who had to do that from 9-5 as a day job.)

“Okay.” She murmured under her breath, trying to hype herself up. It was so much easier watching people on a screen kill walkers, or killing them in a video game with the press of a few buttons. It was something entirely different though, when it was real life, her life and she didn’t have anyone with her to help distract it or hold it back for her to get a kill shot in.

No. That was all her job.

Thankfully, the door was the kind that opened inside, so she gave it about a foot of room between the door and the couch. The couch would keep the door from opening too much and it was heavy enough that a single walker wouldn’t be able to move it. The chair that was used to keep the door handle from jiggling was instead brought around and propped up on the couch so that she had even more space between her and the walker.

With one hand she unlocked the door with a click. She held the scissors in her dominant hand, in a slashing forward motion. All she needed was a good hit to the eye where she didn’t need to worry about the scissors bouncing off of cheekbones or the temporal bones.

The door opened, the walker brought in by the sound. Immediately the smell of decay and piss filled her nostrils, making Sally’s eyes scrunch up from the smell. She forced herself not to let go of the chair once the walker's arms went around the sides, trying to find something to grab onto. It growled, disgusting mouth open and Sally could still see pieces of its last meal stuck between its teeth.

Tears unwillingly poured from her eyes from the smell alone. The walker had more strength than she thought, nearly being knocked back on her ass by the undead. She pushed back against the chair just as harshly, steadying it with her chest and shoulder. The walker’s head peaked over the top of the chair, hands thrashing around to grab her.

Stab. Missed. Try again. Stab! Another miss. Her hand went wide, the scissors scraping against the chair. Another stab and she sliced the bridge of its nose.

“Move, bitch!” She squealed and she didn’t know if she was talking to herself or the walker. Her hand went back over her head moving fast and slamming into the walker’s eye.

Another violent twist of the scissors and it was quiet again. Blood spewed from the injury, splashing against the door, the chair, and her hand. The walker thumped against the door on its way down.

Sally stayed silent, afraid to even breathe. Were there more? Would they be brought closer by the sound of her struggle?

She moved the chair to the side, closing the door and locking it as fast as she could. The scissors dropped onto the couch, staining the deep green with blood.

Sally moved to the bathroom sink, water spurting on and washing the blood off her hands. Has she been injured? Bit or scratched and she didn’t know? There wasn’t anything in the office that would help her amputate a hand in an emergency.

She washed her hands and wrists but she couldn’t find anything to show that she had broken skin in some way. She shrugged off the jacket and makeshift arm protectors, twisting her arms every which way but she couldn’t find any evidence that she had been infected.

A great and shaky sigh of relief left her, her back thumping against the wall and almost sliding down to sit before she remembered her current problem.

She didn’t have enough food or water to last her long term in that office. She didn’t have jeans or sturdy boots that would protect her from walkers and the environment.

She had to leave.

Chapter 2

Summary:

Just some Sally survival time, spending days alone, and then oh look! some surprise guests.

Notes:

I also didn't think I would be updating this within the hour of posting it but alas here we are. I've got like....20k already written for this fic? Since I had made myself promise that I wouldn't post anything until I had at least 100 pins for a character board saved as well as 20k words already written. And when I tell you that the moment--THE MOMENT--it hit 20k I was coming out of google docs like the devil himself was on my ass.

PSA Y'ALL: this is not beta read. I try to fix what I can when I do edit sessions but there's only so many times you can go over the same stuff before you stop seeing what needs to be fixed. So, if you see typo's/grammatical errors, let me know so I can go in and fix it! Unfortunately, the writing probably won't see an actual improvement until spring semester because that's when I'm taking two advanced grammar courses.

I might be able to knock out editing ch3 as well but don't count on that happening tonight.

Also! before I forget, I know jack and shit about cars y'all. So, if at any point during this chapter (and this fic in general) you find yourself scoffing and rolling your eyes about the cars--just know that I tried, and I'll accept any concrit on them because I want this to be enjoyable! And I know as a fellow fanfic reader myself, how easy it is to be pulled out of the reading zone because something is blatantly wrong.

Enjoy! <3

Chapter Text

There were two other walkers in the building, but they had been dead for a while longer. That explained why nothing came to investigate the sound (the terrified screaming of a dying rabbit more like) she made while trying to kill a walker for her first time.

It was an office of some sort, with a short hallway between the room she had come out of and an open space floor with three desks in various states of mess.

Off to the right was a small room with a Break Room sign attached to the door. Sally checked on the two dead walkers one last time, twisting the scissors in through the eye socket for both of them before checking their bodies for anything to scavenge.

Neither of them had anything potentially useful on them and she couldn’t even strip the jeans the male walker wore because they completely drowned in blood and what Sally thought might have also been piss. She was eager for a pair of pants, but she wasn’t desperate enough to wear a pair of piss and bloodstained pants just yet.

She found more useful things in the cubby desks. There was a green cardigan and a pair of fuzzy socks in the nearest cubby that she thought belonged to the female walker. The cardigan looked similar to what the woman had already been wearing before she turned.

She found an iPhone 3 (well Sally was pretty sure it was a third gen. It looked clunky enough) that was thankfully not password protected. She scrolled through the apps, hit with a wave of nostalgia for the way everything on it used to look. It made her earlier thoughts about waking up in a TV show linger over her like an unpleasant fog.

She tried calling the police but there was no answer. She tried calling everyone in the contacts but again—no answer. A few of them rang before transferring her to voicemail but the majority of them didn’t ring at all.

She tried her own phone number.

Nothing.

Sally wiped at her eyes, annoyed with herself for starting to cry again. It had always been a problem for her. Her cousins joked that she didn’t have tear ducts but tear oceans. Her mother reminded her to be grateful that her eyes were well moisturized. Her eye doctor had once told her something similar, but made it sound more medical, so she didn’t realize at first.

She called her mother's phone number, pressing a hand to her mouth and squeezing it almost hard enough to bruise.

“The number you have dialed is— “

She collapsed in the cubicle chair, the wheels rolling to the side with the new weight, her elbow bumped into the desk though she didn’t notice it.

She cried then.

Gave herself a nice, good long cry with snot and everything. A cry for her life. A cry because that just certified that she actually was there and not on the couch, safely tucked under blankets beside her mom.

She might never see her mom again. Never hear her voice or listen to her laugh until she peed. Never get into sassy arguments with her again, just for the fun of it. Never eat at their favorite sushi place again or make awful Christmas cookies because neither of them can bake worth a damn. They’d never laugh until they cried during a New Years celebration. There would be no more porch talks, when the sun had gone down, and they had blankets settled over their legs to keep them warm and a cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows.

No more sending Tik Tok reels back and forth to each other or razing each other about politics or their taste in men. No more saying goodnight and I love you. Sally might not ever say something at the exact same time as her mother again. No more handing out candy on Halloween. Or playing random bird trivia quizzes when neither of them knew jack shit about birds in the first place.

Sally didn’t know how long she cried for; she just knew that her head was pounding, her arm was sore, and she would kill for a pair of jeans and protective boots.

She was mad—pissed off actually—with herself for even thinking it was okay to spend her time, energy, and emotions on crying her eyes out instead of scavenging for more supplies and figuring out where she even was.

She checked the third desk, zipping the phone in one of the Carhartt's pockets, and found far more useful things than she got from the other desks. Most of it wasn’t anything essential—the only edible things she found were diet suppressants and packs of gum.

But she found other things; a pair of sky-blue Chuck Taylors for one. Sally didn’t waste even a single second, hurriedly slipping on the rolled-up socks she found earlier and then shoving her feet into the shoes, lacing them up tight. Almost immediately she felt safer, no longer as worried about stepping on something and getting tetanus or trying to run around in heels and breaking an ankle.

Everything else was hair care, nail care (which explained the very 2000s classic French tip nails she woke up too) as well as a bag of makeup and a separate bag chock full of lip balms, ChapSticks, lipsticks and gloss.

She didn’t care if anyone called her shallow or even vain. She took almost all of it. If she was dealing with a fucking zombie apocalypse, then she was going to be painting her nails any chance she fucking got. She pulled the heels, powdered donuts, and goldfish out of her backpack, throwing them to the side to make way for the new things.

The break room was next, and she snooped through every cabinet and drawer she could find. There was one five-gallon water dispenser in the corner—the fancy ones that gave you cold or hot water, with a stack of tiny paper cups sitting next to it and waiting to be used. She found more food. Cups of ramen, oatmeal, raisins, a bowl of fruit. There were crackers and jars of peanut butter. Bread on the counter and a coffee station next to the fridge with dozens of packets of sugar and powdered creamer. There were bottles of water, soda, and tea all in the fridge that were still cold to the touch.

There was more food—far more than she originally thought there would be. She estimated that she could probably even stay for another week in the office. But she would need to get the bodies out first and burn them somewhere safe—which meant going outside and seeing where she was. If it was safe, maybe even relatively vacant, then she could stay longer.

With her mind only partially made up, Sally moved down the long hallway off of the break room. At the far end of the corridor was a French white painted door where streams of sunlight filtered through the glass panels onto the cheap builder's carpet.

Sally took a deep breath, bracing herself to poke her head out. She couldn’t see much from out of the glass. There was a large dark shape off to the right of the glass panel and off to the left was something smaller but still large, she thought it might be a green color.

Cars, if she were to guess.

She must have stayed in the exact spot, peeking her head up just a little from the bottom of the door, her nose smooshed up against the glass, for at least ten minutes, if not more, looking for any type of movement or noise that would tell her there were walkers outside.

It was only when her hand had started to cramp from holding onto the scissors so tight, did she loosen her hold and stand up quietly, using the wall as a support.

She took another deep breath, sweat forming over her lip and her heart beating so loud it was the only thing she could hear.

Very quietly, inch by fucking inch, she opened the door. She kept a tight hold on the doorknob, just in case anything tried to grip it, and held the scissors so tightly that it left an imprint in her hand.

The door had finally opened just enough for her to peek her head out and she darted out in a way that would have made her mother laugh until she cried from the absurdity of it. She felt like the damn fish from Nemo darting in and out to check the coast is clear.

The outside was better than she had expected. There were four cars parked in front of the building—well three cars and one souped up black truck that immediately made Sally roll her eyes so hard she thought they’d gotten stuck for half a second.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes one last time at the damn truck and then locked the front door again, turning down the hallway to rifle through the walker’s things again.

She pulled out the keys from the backpack that she had taken as well, just in case they were keys to one of the vehicles outside.

It took her ten minutes of shuffling around the office, the cubicles, and the walker's pockets, until she found multiple sets of keys and key fobs. After she found them all she hurried back to the front door. She tested them from the safety of behind the door with her head peeked out. It took some time shuffling between all the keys, but eventually was able to drop the ones she didn’t need to the side and only hold onto the ones she did need.

She checked that the front door was unlocked, found the key that locks it and tested it a few times to make sure it worked. The last thing she wanted to have happened was the door automatically lock behind her and then a walker come up on her while she’s locked out.

With another safety glance left and right (which was really about five glances) she darted out from the door, her sky-blue Chuck Taylor’s slapping against gravel. She went for the truck first, hoping that anyone who wanted such a macho car would also keep some kind of weapon as well.

It took her two times to hop up and into the truck after she checked there wasn’t a surprise walker in it. As quickly as possible, she closed the door behind her and flinched at the noise when it slammed shut. She sat completely still, too scared to even breathe louder, convinced that she had just accidentally signed her death warrant.

After a minute when nothing happened, she forced herself to relax, taking deep breaths. She didn’t bother locking the truck door since a walker wouldn’t be able to open it anyway.

She looked around, checking the visor for anything important before taking a look at the center console. There was a host of parking ticket violations which she ignored after rolling her eyes again. Past the tickets was some cash which was useless to her and a pack of pink bubblegum that she hated. Sally was more of a cinnamon or mint kind of gal.

It was after she had fiddled with the passenger seat glove box that she found something worth keeping. A seven-inch military combat knife sitting innocently next to papers of registration. It was sheathed and she was extremely excited to see it had a holster that could be attached to a belt.

Sally didn’t have a belt at the moment but both of the male walkers in the building had a belt. Even if the belt was too large for her, she could always punch a few more holes in it until it did fit snug and tight. She looked around the car a bit more but the only other useful thing she found was a pistol, held in the driver side compartment.

She would take it, because a weapon was a weapon and it was survival, but she doubted she would be using it anytime soon. The only time she had ever held a gun and shot it was when she was a teenager and one of her mom's boyfriends at the time was trying to show off and impress her mom by bringing them to a gun range.

The majority of what she remembered from that day was basic gun safety—plus or minus a few things. Regardless, the gun only had a finite amount of ammo, and it was also loud as hell so if she ever did use it, she risked the chance of getting swarmed.

So, she would use it for intimidation if she came across anyone who thought she was easy prey but that was about it. She wasn’t an idiot, and she wasn’t about to start shooting shit for practice when she didn’t even know what kind of gun it was or what type of ammo it needed.

The other three cars didn’t have nearly as much goods as the first one. Sally guessed that the Subaru packed with baseball gear was the male coworker's vehicle that she had also taken the phone from, but she felt that was sexist to automatically assume that it was the guy's car.

She was saved from her reeling thoughts on gender stereotypes once she checked the visor where there was a picture of a baseball team, the smiling coach looking a lot like the dead walker shoved into a corner.

The other two cars were clearly hers and the other lady’s. Sally didn’t think she had ever seen so much cold medicine in a car before in her life. The last car was clearly hers, or whoever the girl was that Sally woke up as. The car was decked out in pink decor looking like it rolled right out of Legally Blonde or something similar.

She thought it was cute.

There were even multiple changes of clothes—clearly the girl was a type A personality, and you would never catch her slacking. The unfortunate part was that there weren’t a single pair of pants, shorts, or shoes that weren’t heeled. There was, however, a fluffy pink pillow and comforter rolled up nicely in the back seat and she had to wonder why it was there in the first place. She didn’t think this girl she woke up as was someone who would ever sleep in her car if she could help it.

Maybe she was just a big fan of aesthetics. Maybe she was one of those college kids who wanted to hotbox their car but do it in style.

Sally shrugged her shoulders to herself, even though no one else was around her, and went back to digging.

It was an hour later when she sat back to look at what she had to show for herself. The scavenging resulted in a combat knife, gun, and a van full of baseball gear. At least the knife and metal baseball bats would come in handy. The cold medicine too but hopefully she wouldn’t need to use it.

Sally was brought out of her musings when she thought she saw something moving further down the driveway. She ducked her head low, not moving or breathing for a few long seconds before she told herself that it was likely a wild animal just walking by. Which didn’t make her feel better once she thought about it.

She waited another moment in the car, looking back and forth every which way and then quietly loaded everything up in her arms and inside her Carhartt jacket. The pillow and comforter were a tight fit and made her look pregnant with quadruplets, but it left her hands free in the chance that a walker popped out from somewhere.

She closed the car door behind her as quietly as she could, with the combat knife clenched in her hand. She ducked for the front door, using the key fobs to lock the cars behind her once she was safely inside the building.

Once inside all the adrenaline seemed to leave her body at once, leaving her clammy with a cold sweat and exhausted. She dropped off her findings in the office, prepared to make herself as nice a bed as she could off the couch. She stripped the fabric from the middle cushion where the scissors had fallen, and walker blood soaked through. Thankfully it hadn’t gotten onto the actual cushion, but she would be sleeping on a funny looking couch.

She was quick to remind herself that at least she had a couch to sleep on for the night and coming days. There were a lot of people who didn’t even get that.

She found cleaning supplies in the break room under the sink and a long pair of dish gloves that she would be using to handle the dead bodies. She also found a tightly wound and wrapped up tarp that was also under the sink and Sally, not even for the life of her, could figure out why the hell someone put a tarp under the sink.

It took two hours, a whole lot of sweat, gagging, and a little bit of vomit, but in the end, Sally had gotten the three dead bodies out of the building and laid in the gravel parking lot.

She would burn them in the morning maybe. It was the logical thing to do, making sure everything was as hygienic and sanitized as possible, but she also couldn’t help the very small voice in her mind that said she should try to make a mask out of one of them, like the Whisperers did.

Fuck it, she’ll figure it out in the morning.

Thankfully it did not take her near as long to move two of the cubicle desks to block the front door hallway. A walker wouldn’t be able to climb over it (unless it was a Variant, but she shooed that thought from her mind almost as quickly as it had come) but if a person came in, she at least had the forewarning of hearing them climb over it before they got to her.

Her dinner, which consisted of beef jerky, oatmeal, and an Arizona tea, did not make her feel near as happy and satisfied as she wanted it to after an emotionally and physically taxing day. It didn't help that her seven-year streak as a vegetarian had officially gone out the window as well.

“Goodnight, Mom.” Sally whispered to herself, turning on her side on the couch with an arm tucked under her chin. She whispered goodnight to each of her cousins, her aunts and uncles, even her family dog that died years ago.

Sleep was fitful and she constantly woke up thinking she heard someone getting in, only to fall back asleep when she realized it had been her imagination or something else. It wasn’t good sleep but it was sleep all the same.

The next morning came faster than she thought possible and Sally stayed on the couch, tucked under the pink comforter and tried to chase the last bits of sleep so she didn’t have to get up and face that she was still in the same place and this wasn’t all some weird dream she had falling asleep next to her mom.

It was all true. It all sucked. She needed to get up, wash herself up as best as she could in the dingy bathroom and make something to eat.

She ignored washing her hair, she didn’t think it needed a wash just yet. She did wash her body with hand soap, a hand towel, and warm water as much as she could to keep clean. Just because she was in the apocalypse now didn’t mean she was about to walk around in both her filth and the filth of the walking dead. Thankfully, there was some facial stuff in the makeup bags and she heaved a sigh of relief when she found moisturizer and sunscreen.

She was pale and a redhead now to boot. There wasn’t any tanning in her future, just sunburns and pain.

She winced at taking the rubber band out of her hair so that she could re-tie the damn thing and not have pieces of hair falling into her face while she was doing things during the day. She had (briefly) thought about chopping the red locks off and going around with a similar style to Carol’s silvery curls. But everytime she brought the scissors up to chop it off, she hesitated. Logically she knew it was the smart thing to do. She would have a lesser chance of getting yanked around by her hair and she also wouldn’t need to worry about keeping it clean as much. It would be conserving her water as well.

But she just couldn’t do it.

(And just when she used to scoff at all those apocalypse movies she devoured as a child, instantly putting down all the women who had kept their hair long in such a situation. Too young and ignorant to realize that long hair had been something deeply rooted in a person’s sense of identity and their culture since ancient times. )

Breakfast was oatmeal with raisins, peanut butter crackers, and the rest of the Arizona tea that she wasn’t able to finish the night before, as well as some water from the break room water dispenser. She put on the same clothes that she had originally been in, only exchanging the white blouse for the green button up cardigan she had found the other day. She thought she looked quite a sight, with her green cardigan, the tan carhartt jacket, her pencil skirt with a slit up the side until she could find something better, fuzzy socks, and the blue Chuck Taylors that she prayed to god would last her a long time.

Sally spent a good portion of her morning looking through more cabinets and desk drawers, looking at the maps and pictures tacked to the walls. Some of the maps looked like quarry mining maps--which made her earlier assumption the previous day about waking up in a construction building not entirely right but not entirely wrong either. She figured out that she was in Georgia, however. She just couldn’t figure out if the weighted ball in her stomach was relieved at being in the same state as the start of the show or anxiety because she didn’t know where exactly in the state she was. The maps were dig-sites of almost a dozen different locations and they didn’t show the names of any nearby cities or counties at all.

She wanted to use the computer in the office and see if the internet was still up and running for the moment, but the damn thing was password protected. And no matter where she looked in the office, the walkers' bodies, the wallets, and even the lifted truck--she couldn’t find a hint anywhere. She had already tried the most obvious ones; password, 1234, 0000, his name, his address, and his birthdate but all she got was nada. Nothing.

So, she spent time reading through all the reports, but her eyes would get glazy and bored, and she would toss the paper aside. Construction materials invoice. Boring. Limestone costs. Boring. Gravel and cement--boring, all fucking boring. She could also only clean and scrub the place down with the heavy duty chemicals under the sink before she worried about mixing chemicals and accidentally killing herself with mustard gas before the series even got going. So she dropped that idea pretty quickly.

The next idea was the one she disliked the most but also didn’t see any other choice for herself.

Leaving the safety of the building to look around for clues where she was, as well as maybe scavenge some supplies--like actual fucking clothing, for one. The idea was dangerous. But so was running around an apocalypse in a pencil skirt.

She didn’t have to go far. She could just stay around the building, keep it within sight, and then eventually, she would keep moving farther and farther away from the nest, so to speak. She could make markers near the road or pathways, so she didn’t get lost. A scrap of cloth tied around a branch here, some red cloth around a bush over there and she would have little breadcrumbs to bring her back to the quarry building.

In theory, it was a good idea. In reality though, there were a thousand and one things that could go wrong. A blown tire, walkers, wild animals, the engine won’t start up again, she could get injured or knocked unconscious, there could even be other people nearby—the unfriendly sort.

But no matter what Sally came up with, all it did was solidify how badly she needed to go out. She needed to find supplies, clothing, food and water. Medicine. She absolutely needed books to read. Maybe even one of those portable DVD players, if she got lucky.

Sally nodded to herself; her mind made up.

For the next two days she drove around in the white 2010 Volkswagen Jetta—the car that likely belonged to the girl she had woken up as—with a mop bucket full of ripped up pieces of clothing she had found from inside the car only days prior. Mini skirts and tube tops did end up having a purpose during the apocalypse. It was being soaked in walker guts and then wrapped around tree branches and bushes so that Sally could find her way back to home base.

(The walker guts decision had been made after ripping the clothing in tiny strips and she realized that if she didn’t soak them then she would run the potential risk of walker’s following the scent back to her hiding place.)

She stopped off to the side of the road next to a tree with some low hanging branches. She checked the surroundings out, something she was quickly getting familiar with, to make sure no walkers would jump out on her while her hands were full.

By the time the last strip was tied tightly around the lowest tree branch, Sally had found herself next to a large gravel parking lot—about five times larger than the one in front of the digsite building—and looked around. There was a hiking trail nearby, but no one seemed to be there at the moment since the parking lot was empty.

The ginger haired girl squirmed into the backseat where more clothes were sitting and locked the car doors while she worked, making new pieces of cloth scrap for herself. Each new piece got dunked into the bucket of walker blood and guts. She thought the smell would bother her more—but then again, she had scented lotion smothered all over her top lip and a bit up her nostrils and had a bandana that was soaked in water and perfume, tied tightly around her head so that she didn’t vomit from the smell.

Maybe she wasn’t doing as good with the smell as she had previously thought then.

At some point, she couldn’t help but bitch to herself, I’m gonna find a goddamn hat and pair of sunglasses. Why out of the four cars she looted exactly zero of them had a pair of sunglasses and cap? They’re in Georgia, for christ's sake! She would think that a person would have at least one pair of sunglasses in their car. But no. Not a single pair could be found in any place she looked. It was driving her up the wall.

It took another day before Sally had found a path to the main road and the closest highway to the quarry.

The place was a fucking ghost town. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Highways were supposed to be loud. You should be able to hear the thousands of cars driving, the occasional music from someone blasting their radio too loud. There should be honking from road ragers and that special smell that comes from vehicles being in the sun for a long time.

But there was nothing.

Sally sighed, dumping the leftover walker guts on the side of the road, and then after thinking about it, she dropped the bucket as well. The bucket dropping and rolling a few feet away was the loudest sound Sally had heard in almost a week. It was disparaging. It was terrifying.

For a long minute she stood frozen, her nerves going haywire. She waited for something to twist around the corner of the underpass. She dared not even breathe wondering if there was a quiet shuffler above her that would tip over the railing and land on the Jetta’s windshield, shattering the glass and denting the hood upon its landing.

But nothing happened. Not even a comedic tumbleweed came rolling through.

Just silence.

After a minute Sally took a deep breath, and she wondered if it normally sounded as loud as she thought it did. She forced herself to relax, tucking the tactical knife back into its holster. She had taken the belt off one of the walkers before she began her marker journey and after the initial moment upon waking up in another body and time—she had only come across two other walkers. One of them didn’t even really count considering its legs had been bitten off and she had a marginally easier time beating its head in with a metal baseball bat then she had had with the other walker.

The drive back up to the office was silent. Silent because she didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to herself by making more noise than absolutely needed—but even if she did turn on the radio there was nothing to listen to besides the same old emergency broadcasting message that made her want to bash her own brains in after the first hour of hearing it days ago.

Sally rounded the last bend of the gravel pathway, the Jetta’s wheels crunching over the pebbles and the engine a quiet hum in the air. She hadn’t even gotten halfway back to the parking lot when she noticed the front door was slightly ajar.

Someone was there. Someone had found her little quarry dig-site office building while she was out tying markers to trees, and they had gotten inside the building while she was gone. A survey around the place let her know the person (or persons ) was still there—an older looking vehicle parked off to the side and partially covered by the building.

Her heart started beating in her chest again, an unsteady rhythm pounding against her sternum and waves rushed in her ears. Did she go inside? Did she stay hidden? She didn’t know if there was more than one person. Hell she didn’t even know if they would be friendly or not. They could just as easily be one of those sickos who took advantage of the world going to shit and preyed on people—specifically women and children—as a result of the new lawlessness of the world.

It could even be a trap, she noted to herself. Maybe there wasn’t even a person inside at all; they only wanted her to think the lock was broken and the door was left open to see what she would do. But was she important enough for—actually stupid question. She already knew she was a prime target for some monsters based solely on the fact that she had a vagina.

But if she ran, if she hid away while they sacked everything she had, then she would be left with jack shit and nothing once again.

There was a grunt from inside the building, like someone carrying something heavy before a small crashing sound floated over to her. Another grunt. And then another, though quieter than the first ones. Whoever it was, they were having difficulties grabbing all of her supplies. Sally didn’t know if the thought of them struggling to loot her home base was funny or if it pissed her off enough to send her into a rage.

She pulls the gun from the center console, steadying herself behind the driver's side door like she’s seen people do in every action movie ever with a gun stand off on the street, and settles in.

Someone’s back bangs against the front door, the baseball cap pulled low so she couldn’t see anything besides an ear which wasn’t helpful to her at all.

“Come on, man,” they mumbled between clenched teeth. Two seconds later, another man walks out the front door, carrying the back side of a large plastic container that was filled to the brim with all of her food. Everything in the pantries, the cupboards, the cabinets, and the fridge were all tossed into the plastic container. Along with the cleaning supplies and the one that nearly threw Sally into a blind rage then and there— her pink comforter and pillow.

Good god those vultures were even taking her freaking bedding.

“Hands in the air unless you wanna be shot.” Sally said venomously, hands holding the glock steady.

“You shoot and you’ll only be attracting every geek for miles,” reasoned the shorter one, the one who was still facing away from her with their hands up after having dropped her stuff. The other man, an African-American man with sturdy shoulders and a small mustache, looked up between his companion and at her frantically. It wasn’t hard to tell that he was trying to inform his friend that she had a gun—and that she was alone. He looked vaguely familiar to her though she couldn’t place from where.

“I’ll take that chance.” Sally lied. She was really hoping she could scare them off with a few choice words and maybe wave the gun around before running them off.

“I’m sorry!” Cried the shorter one, hands still raised high in the air. “We didn’t know any survivors were out here other than us,” he started to say and Sally couldn’t figure out why the hell he sounded so familiar. His voice itched at something in her brain and she furrowed her brow.

“Shut up.” She said and wondered if she heard him audibly snap his mouth shut or if that had been her imagination.

“Turn around,” Sally commanded softly, in a tone that was not even close to how she felt at the moment. “ Slowly .”

The African American man didn’t move from his spot with his hands on his head but his eyes watched with rapid attention. His companion nodded—or at least Sally thought he nodded—and turned around painfully slowly with a tense expression.

Sally took a good long look at him and then she blinked incredulously.

“Glenn?”

Glenn looked up in surprise, mouth slightly open. The man behind him frowned and—oh shit, that’s T-dog— looking between the two of them like he was spectating a ping pong match.

Well, shit.

Chapter 3

Summary:

Sally talks with Glenn and T-dog while having a nice little field trip to where the rest of the Atlanta camp is. She still would really like a pair of pants.

Notes:

Now I have never seen that show, Sofia The First, but AT LEAST once a month, I get the damn song stuck in my head--and guess who had it stuck in their head while editing the first ch. and trying to come up with a title for this fic.......yeah...maybe not my finest moment, but at this point it's too late to go back now. Besides, it's also kind of really grown on me.

PSA: for any car people, once again I'M SORRY if I got shit wrong. Just let me know and I'll try to fix it or figure something out. But the image this time is how I picture Sally's truck for the most part. Maybe hers is more lifted (???) and it's also (for the moment at least lolol) a lot cleaner. Although we all know that won't last long--not like there's a car wash operating during the zombie apocalypse.

Update on future chapters: I just finished ch6 and I'm working on 7 at the moment. I'm trying to have some back up before the semester starts up again and we have to go back to classes tomorrow since Thanksgiving Break is over. This way I'll be able to have fully finished chapters that only need an edit before posting.

Thank you for all the comments, as well! It was a lovely and pleasant surprise to wake up to. It actually got me out of bed quite early this morning, lol. I need to start on my break homework that I've been ignoring all week lol, but I hope y'all enjoy the new chapter!

And as always, if you see a typo/error, let me know so I can go in and fix it.

Enjoy! <3

Chapter Text

Out of everything that could have happened, meeting Glenn and T-dog on a random weekday at the beginning of the apocalypse was not on Sally’s bucket list. Hell, she was still trying to figure out how to get the fuck out of the quarry and start looking around for supplies and figuring out where she was.

“Uh,” Glenn started to say, glancing back and forth between her and the gun.

Sally dropped the gun immediately, shoving the metal into her skirt’s waistband at the small of her back. She hadn’t even taken the safety off when she was threatening them with it and all she could think was thank god that it wasn’t Rick or Shane—someone with weapons experience who would say something smart ass-y about the safety being on that would make her pull the gun out again on pettiness alone.

“Do we…know each other?” Glenn hesitated to ask, still watching her like she might pull a gun out on him at any moment.

Sally winced at the thought. Glenn had always been one of her favorites if not the favorite. She’d been devastated during his death (much like the majority of the fandom and viewers had been). But Glenn seemed to take her expression as hurt that he didn’t remember her.

“You know, actually, I think we do know each other. Sorry. It’s just that with the apocalypse and everything…” he shrugged his shoulders, tripping over his words slightly. Sally bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. It reminded her of his early seasons and the way he interacted with women on the show.

Sally spoke up, just so he didn’t actually start digging his own grave like he had a few times with Maggie at the beginning. Not that she was anything close to Maggie and the near magnetic attention the young man had towards her. But Sally was pretty sure she might be the only girl he’s met recently that wasn’t at least ten years older than him with kids and married.

“Pizza delivery? You're the pizza guy, aren't you?” She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head a little as Glenn’s eyes widened and he nodded slowly.

“Right!” He agreed quickly and Sally was sure he still didn’t know who she actually was but the connection to his job before the apocalypse had settled the tension out of his shoulders.

“Sorry for pulling a gun on you by the way,” she said quietly, apologizing to both of them. “I’m Sally.”

“Glenn—but you already knew that.” Glenn frowned to himself at the introduction.

“T-dog.” The taller man said with an easy-going smile, and he walked forward to shake hands with her. “Sorry about this—we didn’t think anyone was here, man.” He motioned vaguely over his shoulder.

Sally could take that moment to be a bitch and ask where in her carefully cleaned and lived-in home base gave them the impression it was up for grabs, but she wouldn’t. She wanted to leave a better impression than the first one she did after pulling a gun on them. She also hadn’t seen or even talked to another human being for—coming up on a week now.

(She used to laugh at the concept of an apocalypse and having to go days, weeks, or even months without talking to people. She thought she would do just fine—she was already an introvert and friendless. The only person she talked to was her mom and her cousins texted her whenever they felt like it. She had never known the extent to just how much she relied on having a supercomputer tucked into her back pocket all the time to keep her connected to the world.

How wrong she was.)

“Are you the only one?” Glenn asked, hovering awkwardly around the bin that held all her stuff in it.

“Here?” She asked for clarification and at his jerky nod she nodded as well. “Co-workers died at the start”— she motioned over to the bodies lying in the middle of the parking lot— “I was on lunch break when it happened. Woke up to my boss banging on the window trying to eat me.”

Sally actually had no idea if the walker she had first seen was the boss or not. She just assumed it was him because of the office, Carhartt jacket, and the fact that his DIY-looking keys led to the supped-up black truck that just screamed compensating for something.

Half of her felt like she was just saying shit to say shit, but she also recognized that she couldn’t just go around saying that she had actually woken up inside her favorite TV show. That was a great way to get a ‘look at the flowers, Sally’ and then permanently get her lights blown out. So, some boring, asinine backstory about being an intern at a quarry company (that way they didn’t get the impression that she knew anything about quarries or what they did) who woke up after a lunch nap to find her boss trying to eat her alive.

She didn’t look like the most competent or skillful person around—but not many of the characters were at the beginning. They had to go through trials and errors and learning curves to get to where they were post-Negan. (If there was one thing Sally didn’t want to do—it was to be anywhere near the Saviors and Whisperers.) Although Daryl and Merle were unusually well equipped for the apocalypse but that was due to their abusive and neglectful upbringing in the backwoods of Georgia.

“Yo, we have a group you know—up in the quarry,” T started to say, stepping back from her. “If you wanna come with,” he waved a hand, motioning between himself and Glenn and then somewhere up behind the quarry building—presumably where the Atlanta group had set up camp.

“We’ve been camping out since the military bombed Atlanta, man.” Glenn continued, readjusting the cap on his head and wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand.

“I mean…is that alright? That I can come?” Sally asked hesitatingly because she didn’t want to come across as too eager. She didn’t think they would be suspicious over her wanting to be around the same people she just had a gun pointed at. But she would sure as fuck be suspicious of someone who sounded too eager.

“Yes!” Glenn said, nodding his head in a boyish manner. He looked so young and innocent at the moment. “More the merrier or however that saying goes— got to band together with all those geeks walking around, you know?”

“What about the cars?” Sally asked with a wave of her hand to the four cars in the parking lot, minus the car that Glenn and T-dog had used to get to the office.

“Already checked them—there’s nothing in them.” Glenn said casually, bending down to pick up her stuff again.

“Probably because anything I already found was taken inside—only for it to end up in those bags of yours the second I turn my back.” Sally tilted her head to the side, brows raised at the multiple bags sitting innocently on the floor behind T-dog’s ankles.

“Oh…right.” Glenn coughed awkwardly. “Sorry again.”

Oops. She hasn’t been planning on saying anything about it.

“I suppose you would…want it back?” Glenn winced, his question trailing off toward the end.

“That’d be nice.” Sally said, trying and failing to hide the amused smirk that had settled on her face.

“But I don’t mind parting with some of it.” The redhead said because Glenn really looked like a kicked puppy at the moment, and she didn’t have the ability to say no to that face.

“Really?” Glenn lit up. “Awesome!”

The men had made quick work of halving the supplies, dropping half of it into the backseat of the black truck (which Sally had found out was something called a double cab long bed with a leer topper—whatever the hell that meant she didn’t know) that she would be taking with her.

She had debated which car she wanted to go with for a while before settling on the truck. The Jetta was almost completely out of gas and didn’t offer much leg room if she ever needed to sleep in it. The Subaru that held the baseball gear always made a weird clicking noise when she tried turning it on that made her anxiety skyrocket. And the soccer mom car the female walker had looked good, but Sally hated how open the windows made her feel and how low the car felt. She didn’t want to be waking up with a walker standing over her like she did that first day ever again.

So, the truck it was. Sally counted her lucky stars when she opened the bed of the truck to see a mattress—an actual mattress— that was still wrapped in plastic. Wasn’t even opened yet. All Sally needed to do was find some bed sheets and she would be living the high life, sleeping in a truck bed that was carpeted, with a roof and a fucking bed with the pink comforter on it.

“Ready to go?” Glenn called.

Sally gave a thumbs up instead of replying, taking a large step up to get into the lifted truck. She didn’t even so much as need to have one final backwards glance at the dig site office before turning the key in the ignition and following T-dog’s car. The drive was quiet. She thought she would have been having second thoughts, maybe even panicking about meeting the rest of the characters but she wasn’t. She was just craving a doom scroll through social media and an iced latte so sugary it would make her dentists cry.

God this was the worst. Merle was going through withdrawals supposedly? Sally was going through withdrawals. Social media. The internet. Wi-Fi. Her phone. Buying an iced latte and enjoying it. Hot showers. A fucking washing machine and dryer—

She stopped herself there. Anymore and she wouldn’t be in the right headspace when meeting everyone for the first time.

It had been a ten-minute drive up, give or take a few minutes, before T-dog parked behind a different van, shutting the car down. Sally parked off to the side of the road, a few feet behind T-dog’s church van.

Sally grit her teeth, turned the truck's ignition off, and carefully jumped down from the truck. She left the Carhartt jacket in the passenger seat—it was summer in Georgia and the sun was acting like it was its personal duty to try and bake them all alive.

“What’s this?” A tall dark-haired man yelled from across the campfire. She realized it was Shane when he got closer.

“Shane, man,” Glenn greeted while pulling bags out from the backseat of T-dog’s car. “We found another survivor—she was camping out in the quarry building.”

“How long were you there for?” A woman asked, walking up beside Shane. She was tall, easily the tallest woman that Sally had taken note of so far in the bumbling camp. With wavy dark hair, a steady gaze and straight-laced shoulders—Sally knew instantly the woman to be Lori Grimes.

“Longer than I’d’ve liked,” Sally replied with a shrugged shoulder.

“Ain’t that the truth, man.” T-dog said with a shake of his head and heaving a bag over his shoulder to bring further into the group.

The next few hours felt surreal for Sally. Like she wasn’t actually there, standing around the Atlanta Camp’s survivors, introducing herself to people who came up to her. Like she wasn’t actually seeing the sun’s ray reflected off the crystalline quarry lake water.

“Here,” Carol said softly, pushing a water bottle into her hands. “Looked like you needed it.”

“Oh,” Sally glanced down, the plastic crinkling in her grip and the water lukewarm. It wouldn’t be refreshing like an iced tea would be in the middle of the humid Georgian summer heat. “Thank you.”

“I know it’s not the best drink to have at the moment,” Carol smiled, and Sally felt bad that the woman could tell what her thoughts had been. “But it sure beats dehydration, don’t you think?”

“Yeah…thank you.”

Chapter 4

Summary:

Sally and Glenn go on a run and when they come back, Sally meets some rednecks.

Notes:

Hello again! Guess who stayed up until like 2am writing more chapters and then only got like 4 hours of sleep? (me! it's me!) I still made it to one out of three classes however, so I'd say that's not bad. I'm passing all my classes of course so I'm not too worried about it. Definitely need to start clocking the f in though, since finals are in, like, two/three weeks?? lol

Anyways! I've got another 10k or so written. Actually, working on a Daryl POV, which I'm so-so on because I can't get his voice right just yet, but I'm 4k in and I don't want to just delete it and restart. Not that I need to worry about it since it's not until like ch.'s 8/9 etc. but still. If you get me, you get me on this lmao.

PSA TRIGGER WARNING: I tagged racism for this fic but will also put it here as a warning as well, just so nobody gets blindsided. Specifically, it's Merle being Merle and racism against Asian people (Nothing much more beyond what's already in TWD s1 but I didn't want anyone to feel blindsided). It's towards the end of the chapter but if you want a specific place where it starts, it'll be the dialogue line, “Whooh, brother, would you look at that?”

Anyways, I think that's all for updates? But I'll add any edits if need be. Let me know if you see any errors/typos so I can fix it.

And as always, TY TY TY TY thank you y'all for your kind words and comments! They make my day; I just get all ooey-gooey about it lolol.

Enjoy! <3

Chapter Text

“Glenn, hey!” Sally called out the next morning after Shane had driven up the pathway with his jeep for the camp's daily water supply service. Sally dodged around the few families standing in line to grab their water jugs.

“Oh—hey. What’s up?” Glenn asked, turning around to look at her. “Did you have a list?”

He had just closed the door to one of the cars he would be taking into town, leaning his hip up against the metal door.

“Not exactly,” Sally said quietly, shuffling her feet over the gravel and kicking up a puff of dust between them. “I’d like to come with, get some stuff on my own.”

Sally could pinpoint the exact second that Glenn wanted to emphatically say no that she’s not coming with him now or ever. So, she damn near tripped over her words to get them out faster than Glenn could make something up and say no to her.

“Please, Glenn. I’ve been—this is all I’ve had to wear,” she swiped a hand down the length of her torso, Glenn’s eyes following the movement. She felt ridiculous standing around in a blood-stained white blouse and ripped pencil skirt. “I had to kill my boss in a freaking pencil skirt . Is that not even a little messed up to you?” She asked and Glenn blinked at the information like he hadn’t considered that. “I need clothes—something that actually covers skin and is protective. If I’m not gonna die from a geek’s bite then it’s gonna be from sun exposure.” She fiddled with her hair, shoving ginger colored locks up between them.

“Have you ever seen a burnt redhead? Cause it’s not a pretty sight, let me tell you— “

“ Okay,” Glenn stressed, holding his hands up like he was trying to calm her down. “Just. Okay. I get it. Message received, you don’t have to tell me any more.”

“Are you sure?”

“ Yes. ”

There was an awkward lull in the conversation where neither of them spoke. Finally, after what seemed like ages to Sally, but was probably only a minute or two, Glenn sighed.

“I don’t bring people with me when I go out—I can’t do what I do if I’m too busy taking care of someone else and keeping them alive.” Glenn started to say.

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

Glenn looked unimpressed.

“Look, I mean it. You don’t have to worry about keeping me alive. I can handle that myself—“

“—It’s just not a good idea; I can’t concentrate on doing what needs to be done if I’m on babysitting du—“

“Not to bring up old news but between the two of us who was, A”--she pointed at him--”standing with their back to someone with their hands in the air and B,” -- she pointed toward herself, --”pointing a gun at said person?”

“I don’t think that counts.” He said with a furrowed expression.

Sally raised a brow, unimpressed.

“Well, maybe it counts--but that’s not going to help around geeks.” He rushed before she could get too excited. “You need to be quiet and a gun going off is the exact opposite of that.”

“I snuck up on you and T-dog, didn’t I?” She readjusted the belt around her waist, fidgeting with the combat knife so it wasn't digging into her side as much. “I’d say that’s pretty quiet.”

For a tense moment it looked as if Glenn was going to turn her away still. Then he sighed loudly, tilting his head back and rolling his neck for the upcoming stress he thought he was going to deal with.

“Fine. Okay. Fine--but I need you to listen to me out there and if I say we bail then we bail .” He opened the driver’s side door, tossing a backpack into the back seat.

Sally wondered what sort of impression she gave to him for Glenn to specifically stress that rule to her, but the thought was quickly wiped from her mind because she was going on a supply run, and she was about to get some fucking clothes.

“We can leave in ten--that’ll give you enough time to grab…” He looked over her shoulder, noticing the black backpack she was carrying for the first time. “...that confident, huh.” he monotoned.

She waggled her eyebrows at him, hopping around the front hood and sliding into the passenger seat.

“Does Shane know?” Glenn sighed, settling into the driver's seat.

“Does Shane know what?” Sally parroted, strapping her seatbelt on after shoving her backpack to the floor between her feet. “Does he know that I’m going or are you asking if he gave the ‘OK’ for me to go?”

When she looked back up, Glenn seemed to be hesitating.

“He’s not the boss of me,” Sally said, trying to keep her tone as even as she could.

She’d been at the Atlanta camp for not even a full twenty-four hours and had already felt the effects of early 2000s sexism. Men she didn’t even know --men who hadn’t even introduced themselves to her had tried laying buckets of dirty laundry at her feet. She had men checking out her truck she drove in with, accusing her of not knowing anything about it for the simple fact that she had a vagina. Jaqi had already tried to get her to join in on making dinner for everyone, handing out plates to the lazy assholes sitting around a campfire and drinking beer like it was some camping trip and not the start ot the fucking apocalypse. Amy had tried talking with her--they even commiserated on a rock together about not being able to text or use their phones anymore until some of the men started laughing at them and Amy went back to sitting in the Winnebago with her sister.

Andrea complained about doing ‘women’s’ work, but she still did it in the end. Carol seemed to have taken a step back from interacting with Sally after Sally had staunchly refused point blank to do anybody’s dirty socks for them and Ed had been within hearing range. Lori seemed to turn her nose up at Sally’s ‘crazy feminist shit’ as Shane had taken to calling it--but still wanted to have the moral high ground so she’d say things like, “ Just give her some time to settle in ,” and “ We just need to be understanding and patient with her ,” which nearly made Sally start tweaking and twitching right then and there.

“But Shane’s our…” Glenn started to say before trailing off awkwardly, like he didn’t really know where he wanted to go with that line of thought. “I mean, he’s a cop.”

“He was a cop.” Sally turned in her seat, the fabric of the pencil skirt riding up her thigh where it ripped but she ignored it in favor of looking into Glenn’s eyes. “He used to be a cop--back when the world was civilized and modern society had rules and laws that had to be followed and enforced. Used to be a cop before the dead started walking and before those same dead started geeking out and eating people like it’s a goddamn buffet at Golden Corral.”

“No offense,” she actually meant all the offense because she was twenty-two hours in with these people and she wanted to shake them all around like a snow globe, “but I seriously doubt that reading a walker their Miranda rights is gonna make it suddenly stop trying to fucking eat people.”

Glenn blinked. Then he blinked some more like he was unable to even think of a reaction to her sudden outburst.

“Are we going?” Sally asked, trying to give him something to hang onto because all he seemed capable of doing was opening and closing his mouth. It didn’t seem like she unintentionally traumatized him though because he nodded enthusiastically, turning the car's ignition and driving them out of the quarry.

“But I told T-dog I was going with you--don’t want a scare at camp with a supposed missing person.” Sally said jovially. Like hell she would leave without knowing her truck--her new living arrangement and only protection from nature and people alike--was being properly looked after and protected by someone. At the moment the only two people she trusted for such a task were T and Glenn.

“Stop here,” Sally said, pointing to a gas station off the side of the road.

“I’ve already been here--place is crawling with geeks--”

“Great, that means no one else has looted the place then,” she said. When Glenn didn’t immediately turn into the parking lot Sally turned back to look at him with an expectant expression.

“I--no. No . That’s too dangerous.” Glenn emphasized, cutting a hand between the two of them like it was a physical barrier.

“If you’re too afraid to go in then you can stay in the car.” Sally shrugged, acting like she didn’t care if he came with her or stayed in the car. She shouldered the door open, before Glenn could try to reach across her lap and shut it closed again. She had her backpack slung over her shoulders and the combat knife already unsheathed and gripped in her hand.

The parking lot was clear already, but Sally kept an ear out for any low groans or shuffling sounds.

“Hey--hey, Sally! Come on, man, this is not cool.” Glenn whisper-hissed at her but still followed along behind her after parking the car off to the side. Once he got closed enough, he put a hand on her shoulder whirling her around to face him.

“Where’s your weapon?” Sally frowned looking him up and down to find that he didn’t have a weapon on him at all. The most he had was his backpack and his baseball cap. His hands were completely empty.

“Weapon?” Glenn parroted. “Geeks are attracted to sound--carrying a weapon would be like standing under a giant neon sign saying, ‘eat me’!” His hands waved around in the air between them, like he was miming the neon sign so that she could understand more.

Sally’s mouth pursed into a thin line. She didn’t know how long she would have to deal with this behavior from the group before they finally got their ducks in a row--she hoped it would be soon though because she was steadily losing her patience.

“You know there are more weapons than just guns, right? It’s important to me that you know that.” She sighed before fishing the metal baseball bat out of the side pocket of her backpack and handing it over to Glenn.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” he asked, eyes wide and looking back and forth between her, the bat, and the gas station's front door.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she started sarcastically, and Glenn’s head whipped around, unamused by her tone. “Bash their brains in, trip them, knock a couple teeth out. Have them do the fucking limbo for all I care--just use it.”

When Glenn still looked unconvinced, Sally sighed and turned back around to fully face him. It was clear that he would need a pep-talk before they went in and Sally was currently the only one around to do it. She kept having to remind herself that this isn't post-Prison Glenn but the baby Glenn. Besides, if she wanted to go on more runs in the future, she might as well leave Glenn with a happy first memory, so he’d be more inclined to seek her out for future supply runs.

“You play video games so imagine--”

“--How do you know I play video games?”

“Lucky guess.”

“Oh--”

“Yeah, so anyways,”--she stressed, Glenn holding the bat to his chest anxiously--”you play video games. Think of this as a mission in a survival RPG, okay?”

He nodded, looking like he wanted to ask her how she knew what that was but she kept going.

“Difficulty level is veteran, and you have one life. In order to pass the mission, you need to successfully exterminate the enemy--headshots only.” She looked up at him, brows raised. “With me so far?”

“So far, yeah.”

“Great. So, here's what we’re gonna do…” Sally explained the idea to him and while he looked nervous at the prospect, he agreed nonetheless with a nod of his head. A few minutes later found Sally holding the front door closed, shoving her shoulder and knee into the door to keep it partially shut. Glenn stood in front of the door, a few feet away with the bat posed above his head. One walker ambled up to the door, sticking its head and arm out, reaching for Glenn.

Glenn shouted a war cry, slamming the baseball bat down on the walker’s head. Blood poured but it wasn’t enough to down the walker, so Glenn raised his arms up again before slamming down. The second hit dropped the walker to the floor. Quickly another walker came to the door, brought by the noise and Glenn downed that one too, its body dropping on top of the first one. Two more followed after that, both brought down by Glenn.

“Awesome…” he muttered, breathing heavily. His chest and shoulders shook from the sudden exercise. Blood and sweat dripped down his face, shirt splattered with what looked like bits of walker brain as well as blood. The smell was nauseating and the air full of the scent of putrid and rotting flesh.

“Gross.” Glenn mumbled, finally looking down at himself. Very slowly, Glenn pulled a small white shard from his shirt. “Is this bon--” he bent over suddenly, throwing up hard enough to almost send him careening forward.

Sally--who had made a similar face herself the first few times she killed a walker--hurriedly stepped out of the immediate splash zone with a sigh of relief escaping her lips when nothing landed on her. She didn’t have the luxury of wearing jeans at the moment and she wasn’t about to deal with whatever Glenn had had for breakfast on her legs.

She tilted her head to the side curiously. “Was that your first time?”

“Ye--” Glenn coughed again, bracing his hands against his knees. “Yeah.” He inched himself back up slowly and when Sally met his eyes all she saw was exhaustion. “Yeah--yeah.” Glenn said quietly.

Without commenting on it, Sally reached behind her into one of her backpacks side pockets, pulling out a packet of travel-size tissues. “Here,” she motioned around her mouth vaguely, offering the tissues up to him.

Glenn thanked her quietly, cleaning at his mouth and face. Since the walkers were dead, Sally wrenched the door open fully, the bell above it dangling sharply but nothing else came to inspect the noise. The inside of the gas station didn’t smell much better, but it had the added smell of dust build up that made Sally have to pinch her nose before she sneezed.

“So,” she started, pulling at the topmost walker and rolling it off the pile and to the side of the door so they had a way out if things went sideways. “Does this mean I took your first time?”

The look Glenn sent her made it obvious he was less than amused by her joking.

“I thought it was funny,” Sally mumbled to herself.

“Woah.” Glenn breathed after a long look around the store that had been near untouched since the start of the outbreak. His duffle bag slipped from his shoulder at the sight.

“How long do you think this will last us?” Sally asked, ambling down an aisle flicking through a magazine.

The question brought Glenn out of his daze as he tilted his head to one side, quietly calculating around how much food each person at camp would need. “A week, maybe…I’ll pull the car up.”

Just as he turned to leave, Sally stopped him. “Not yet--we haven’t sweeped the place yet. I’d rather not have a surprise party while our hands are tied.”

“Oh…right, yeah.” Glenn blinked before pulling the bat up to his shoulder again. "That makes sense."

They swept the building--only after making sure that nothing would come in through the front door while they had their backs turned to it--and found no other walkers or people in the building. Even the bathrooms and employee break room looked untouched. There was nothing to show that anyone had been in or near the building since the start.

Once they secured the building--if a bit clumsily because it was Glenn’s first time doing it ever and Sally’s first time doing it with someone else--Glenn pulled the jeep up to the front door where they then worked together, trying to empty the shelves out as fast as possible while still keeping an eye on the parking lot for walkers.

“That’s all of it--besides the cold foods but those went bad as soon as the power stopped.” He acknowledged while wiping his brow with the back of his hand. It was tiring work, running back and forth between the store and the jeep with food in their arms, while the inside of the store felt at least ten degrees hotter than the parking lot outside.

“What are you doing?” Glenn called out when Sally didn’t immediately answer. He followed the noise she was making to the front counter of the store and leaned his elbows against the counter. “I didn’t take you for a smoker.”

Sally looked over her shoulder at him with a quirk to her lips. “Oh, I’m not.”

“Then…what are you doing?” He asked, face scrunched up in confusion.

Sally laughed under her breath but didn’t stop filling the duffle bag up with every pack of cigarettes, tobacco, chew, gum, mints, and everything else she could find behind the counter.

“How do you pay for things that you want?” Sally asked, still shoving packs of cigarettes into the duffle bag.

“Is that rhetorical?” Glenn asked, switching his weight from one leg to the other. “Or are you actually asking me that?”

“Little of both, I guess.” and then when he didn’t answer, she turned around to face the counter. “Humor me.”

“Okay…” Glenn said in a tone that sounded like he thought she was crazy. “I mean--money usually--not that it's useful now during the apocalypse.” he waved a hand at the cash register.

“Exactly.” Sally smiled at him, pulling a pack of Marlboro’s from the stack with two fingers. “Say I want to buy that bat from you--”

Glenn frowned. “But it’s your bat--you gave it to me--”

“--humor me.” she repeated, the corner of her lips quirked up.

Glenn held eye contact for a long time, something seeming to pass behind his eyes but it was gone before Sally could identify it.

“Well--I don’t really want to give it up--I mean, I just took down four geeks with it.” He said, dropping his chin into his palm.

“Not even for a pack of cigs?” Sally slid the Marlboro’s over the counter to him.

“Nah,” he shook his head.

“What about two packs? And a pack of gum?”

“I’m not a smoker--so thanks, but no thanks.” Glenn answered.

Sally leaned down further, mirroring Glenn’s body language across the counter. “Alright, well you drive a hard bargain, Glenn, because I really want that bat.”

She jokingly narrowed her eyes at him. “So, what if…” she tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear, leaning closer. “I said you could choose between cigarettes, alcohol, gum--” Sally pointed with her thumb at the pornographical magazines sitting over her head behind the counter, “--or porn. What would you choose?”

Glen choked loudly, his ears and face turning completely red. Sally laughed, pulling herself off the counter and back to packing everything. She didn’t think he would be so embarrassed over it. She only wished she had a camera so she could immortalize how red his face had gotten for years to come.

“Gum--I’ll just, I’d take the gum.” he answered quietly, still coughing occasionally and patting at his chest. “Is that all?”

“No, of course not. There’s also medicine, drugs--opiates really--anything tobacco related. And then there’s always plain old sex.” Sally said which started Glenn off on a whole other choking fit.

“I meant, like, if we could leave ?” he said, even motioning toward the door with the bat.

“Oh that, yeah sure.” Sally hefted the duffle bag over her shoulder, now significantly more heavy, and followed Glenn out to the jeep. “Hang on.” she said, tossing the bag into the jeep’s passenger side and jogging over to the phone booth on the side of the store.

“Again? Seriously?” Glenn had asked but she was already off to the other side of the storefront, carefully peering around the corner for any surprise walkers and when there weren’t any she shifted her attention to the medium sized plastic gray box dangling from the phone booth.

She dug the combat knife into the slides of the box until there was a pop. Inside was a slightly weathered Yellow Pages phone book that she tucked under her arm and ran back to the jeep with.

“Score!” she said excitedly, showing off her findings for Glenn to see as well, leaning over the center console.

“A phone book?” he asked wearily but before she could speak up, he had already answered it himself. “The addresses.”

He started the jeep, making a wide U-turn in the parking lot and driving them back to the road.

“Exactly.” Sally said. The drive was quiet, each of the occupants stewing in their own thoughts.

While Sally had said the bag was for things like buying--she really meant it as more of trading and leverage thing. Against other groups. Anything that would help them get out of a sticky situation, even if it only set a hostile encounter back by a day or two. She couldn't explain that to Glenn now, however, because even with as smart and as quick as he is--he was still so fawn-eyed about the whole apocalypse. Her preparing for future hostilities with such gusto would only freak him out. So, she would stay quiet about it, for now. At least until it got closer as a problem. But for the time being she would quietly gather as much as she could, keeping it as an ace up her sleeve. In a year when people started getting desperate (hell, maybe even less than a year) every smoke she hoarded would be hundred times its weight in gold. She didn't even have to give out entire packs either--she could sell each individual cig. (And then of course, once word started getting around it would put a target on her back potentially--but a strong defensive stronghold could hold them off for a while until she thought of something else.)

By the time they had made it back to the camp, Glenn and Sally had hit two other places--one of them being a small general store that must have been a mom-and-pop shop. (And the other being a clothing store which Sally had taken a near unholy glee in, to the extent that at some point Glenn had stood off to the side while she raced around grabbing herself all the clothing she needed. Sports bras, t-shirts, tank tops, long-sleeved shirts, underwear, sweatpants, socks, and jeans that she could comfortably move around in. She had even gotten a few pairs of boots--rain boots, hiking boots, and steel toed boots--but she wasn’t sure how protective they would be since they were from a clothing store and not a specialty place.)

Sally was pulled from her thoughts about how much laundry she had in store for her when Glenn sighed loudly from her side.

“Great,” he mumbled darkly, looking out past the row of cars lined up on one side of them camp.

“Problem?” Sally asked, sitting farther up in her seat instead of slouching like she had been.

“You could say that. Looks like the Dixon brothers are back from their hunt.” Glenn answered and then at her shocked face he said, “You didn’t meet them when you got here--they were away on a hunt, but they’re back now. Daryl--the younger guy--isn’t that bad. Kind of quiet, standoffish. It’s Merle--the older brother--whos the problem.”

“How so?” Sally asked, even though she already had a Pretty Good Idea of what an absolute asshole Merle Dixon was.

“If ‘racist douchebag' was in the dictionary and had a picture for it--Merle’s face would be it.” Glenn shook his head. “Come on--we should tell Shane we’re back so they can start dividing the supplies up.”

“Hey, Glenn?” Sally asked before he could open his door. “Don’t say anything about the duffle bag--keep it quiet for now.”

To Sally’s surprise Glenn nodded. “Probably a good idea--now that certain people are back in camp.”

Glenn dropped her off next to her truck before he drove further up the line of cars to meet up with Shane. T-dog talked briefly with Sally about her truck--no one tried to mess with it while she was gone--before running back to the camp center and helping unload supplies. Sally then dropped the duffle bag into the truck's back seat, throwing a blanket over it just in case anyone started getting curious about peeking through her windows. She picked up one of the bags she wanted to wash first before tossing the other two through the topper window so they landed on the mattress.

She hadn't even walked fifteen feet before a low whistle sounded out.

“ Whooh , brother, would you look at that?” a voice with a southern drawl said. “Looks like dah Chinaman brought back more than just cup ramen this time!”

Merle Dixon, huh.

“Merle.” Sally monotoned, hiking the backpack strap further up her shoulder.

“She kno’ my name already, baby brother,” Merle sneered, walking closer with an exaggerated swagger. Sally looked past Merle, up and over his shoulder at Daryl Dixon who met her calculative green-eyed stare with his own unreadable blue-eyed one. He had his infamous crossbow gripped in one hand, with a string of dead squirrels and chipmunks tied together on a string and tossed over his shoulder like the world's weirdest taxidermied purse.

For a brief moment Sally considered snapping something back at Merle. But her eye caught Glenn’s, who had his head down and his lips pursed, trying not to bring more attention to himself than the smidge of attention Merle had already brought to him.

“He’s Korean.” Sally bit out.

Merle sniggered. “Ah, don’t be that way, Red. They all look the same anyway, don’ they?” he fell back into a camping chair, kicking one foot up on a nearby cooler. “Now, why don’ ya come over and sit on ole Merle’s lap, yeah?”

Over his shoulder, Daryl seemed to have lost any interest in their interactions, instead moving away to set his bow down and start skinning the dead squirrels he had caught.

“It’ll be well worth your while, huh, Red?” Merle said loudly.

“Being eaten by a walker would be more worth my while, ” Sally said harshly and when Merle started spitting something nasty at her, Sally tuned him out completely, ignoring whatever obscene things he had decided to say during the length of time it took Sally to walk closer to the unlit campfire where they both sat, albeit on opposite sides.

“Hey,” she said quietly once she had gotten within a few feet of the younger Dixon brother. Her eyes roved over his physique like she couldn’t get enough of him. Everyone looked so much like their on screen characters but there were parts where they didn’t sometimes. Like Carol for example--her actress was wonderful --but there were habits and mannerisms that physically abused people did that just couldn’t be picked up and copied without it looking more staged and unnatural.

Daryl was like that--she just didn’t know what exactly it was for him. He still had the short, dirty blonde hair--and how that changed to dark brown she will never know--The beautiful blue eyes, the mole, and the bits of facial hair. His walk and gait was fun to watch, the little that Sally had been witness too but she thinks that she could sit and watch it for hours.

“What,” Daryl scoffed slightly, tilting his head to look up at her with a half sneer already in place.

“I heard you're good at hunting and tracking--that true?” Of course it was true, Sally only had some odd dozen years of seeing what a phenomenal tracker and hunter he was. But it wasn’t like she could just go up to him talking crazy like that, could she?

Daryl scoffed under his breath, jerking his hand over at the crossbow and the game he won. “What d’you think?” He stared her down, almost like he was silently daring her to insult him.

“That you’re damn good,” Sally rushed out because the only other thing she wanted to say was how perfect he was, and she didn’t think that would go over well.

“Hear that, Darylina ? Little red here thinks you--”

“--Merle, you lazy asshole, help me skin the damn squirrels!” Daryl hissed at his brother and then turned back to her with a sneer.

“Why don’ you go on an’ pester someone else, already." He waved his arm toward her; the knife splattering squirrel blood between them and onto her pencil skirt.

Chapter 5

Summary:

Glenn and Sally chat. Sally meets Carl for the first time and Sally tries to figure out how to get closer to Daryl.

Notes:

Hello! This is honestly the worst time to get a writing bug because I've got two weeks of finals to worry about. This is unfortunately not a very action-y chapter. Mostly dialogue and foundation laying for relationships and future stuff.

I might try to double update but don't count on that because it's getting late over here, and I still haven't done my chapter readings for my classes lolol. But that's a problem for me to deal with in the morning.

Thank you all for comments and also replying! I'm trying to get to them, but it's been very hectic over here. Hope everyone is doing good, having a good week <3

I think that's all I have to say for now, so enjoy! <3

Chapter Text

“What do you think?” Sally asked Glenn a few days later.

They were sitting at the quarry lakeside while Sally did her laundry. It was early in the morning, and the smell of breakfast being made was in the air. Majority of people were already up and about the camp but there were a few tents still closed, the occupants yet to wake from their slumber.

It was hot but not to an uncomfortable degree yet. Glenn was sitting cross legged on a large rock next to Sally with the phone book and several local maps they had pilfered spread out in front of him.

“There’s a couple smaller places that would work.” Glenn said, using a wet rag to place on the back of his neck to help cool down. He crossed something out with a black pen, scratching at his calf absentmindedly.

“Any of them weapon stores--or outdoor survival stuff?” Sally asked, wringing out a pair of pants and setting them aside with the other clothes she had already cleaned.

Unfortunately for Sally, the first time she went out on a supply run with Glenn turned out to be her last supply run with him. Even though they had brought back more than every time Glenn had gone out alone combined, Shane had put his foot down. And Glenn had listened to him. And no matter what Sally tried to say, Glenn wouldn’t listen to her.

Which pissed her off to an unholy degree.

So, in a classic Glenn move, he tried to compromise with the both of them because he was a team player— and while that normally made Sally’s insides melt in admiration for the young man—all she really wanted to do was knock him upside the head for agreeing with Shane instead of her.

“Shane said to stay away from weapon and gun stores—they’re probably already looted and the looters could set traps for people looking for guns.” Glenn said, shaking his head at the prospect of going to one.

Sally’s eye twitched. “Oh, well if that’s what Shane says. Wouldn’t want to go against what Shane thinks, would we,” she muttered bitterly under her breath. She couldn’t get it out of her head how completely bonkers the entire situation was. She knows stuff! Hell, she comes from a universe where zombies are an actual thing! She’s tried to give a thousand and one pieces of advice on what to do—to fortify and secure the camp, to get more supplies while out on runs, to get Shane to start teaching the campers basic self-defense and gun safety since he was a literal instructor!

But no! The most they took from her was stringing up empty tin cans as a security measure and the amount of bitching she got back from it could’ve gone in the Guinness Book of World Records.

At Glenn’s hurt expression Sally sighed, tipping her head back, the morning sun lighting up her face. “I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly. “I’m trying really hard not to be a bitch—“

“That’s you trying? ” Glenn implored and Sally seriously thought about throwing her laundry basket at him. The thought must have shown on her face because Glenn ducked away with a laugh.

“Anyway,” Glenn continued, after he had his little chuckle at her expense, “is there anything you want? Something to keep an eye out for that I can try to grab if I see it?”

For a split second, Sally thought about being a stubborn bitch and refusing his offer to pick something up if he came across it, but she shoved the idea away almost as soon as she had it.

“Honestly—a portable DVD player would be awesome right now,” Sally winced, nearly salivating at the thought of being able to listen to or watch something. The past two weeks had been brutal on her, to say the least.

Glenn nodded like he understood exactly how she was feeling—and to an extent he probably was. Not like he could hop on a pc and knock out some Portal games or League.

“You got it,” Glenn smiled, hopping up from his spot on the rock and lending her a hand to get up as well. Sally gladly took it, thanking him.

He drove them back up to the campsite, dropping her off next to her car before pulling away to get anyone's last requests for things before he left on an errand run.

Sally had not even finished hanging up all her laundry to dry when a small white face peeked around her truck's back wheel.

“What’re you doing?” Carl asked.

“What does it look like I’m doin’?” Sally questioned quietly, looking toward the sky and asking for a well of patience in order to get through this conversation. (It’s not that she was bad with kids per se. But it always felt awkward for her and it didn’t help that Carl’s parent/guardian situationship was majorly pissing Sally off because Shane had taken to randomly disappearing with Lori on bullshit chores—both to have a quickie and also to get away from Sally trying to get Shane to agree with her on something.)

“Something boring,” Carl said, finally making his way around the truck and looking bored with his hands in his pockets.

“Welcome to being an adult then, kid,” Sally shook her head to herself.

“I’m not a kid,” Carl retorted, instantly bristling at the words like a cat.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Sally grumbled to herself, already feeling a headache come on when Lori and Shane got back from wherever the fuck they did their quickies and Carl tattled to his mom about Sally calling him a kid. “You want a piece of advice?”

“Not really.”

“Too bad,” Sally said, “here’s your advice—if a child has to say that they’re not a child, then guess what? They’re a child.”

She dropped her laundry basket, turning on her heel and crouching so she could see eye to eye with Carl.

“You don’t ever hear about an adult going around saying they're an adult, right?” Sally reasoned, raising her brow at him. “Cause they already know they’re an adult.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Carl snipped, face punched in an irritated expression.

“Maybe it’ll make sense when you're older,” Sally retorted, because she couldn’t help herself and it was a small piece of entertainment in her day.

“ Or ,” she continued, when Carl’s hands balled into fists in his jean pockets and he went to turn around, “maybe it won’t make sense. Hell, maybe it won’t ever make sense to you—just because someone’s an adult doesn’t mean they know everything.”

Carl frowned, turning her comment around in his head while they sat in that bubble of silence for a moment.

“You’re weird.” He said.

“Right back at ya,” Sally rolled her eyes, standing to her feet now that the moment was gone, going back to her laundry. At some point Carl must have gone back to whatever he was doing before bothering her because when she had finished putting her laundry out, he was gone.

It took two more days for Sally to realize two separate things. One was that Glenn wasn’t about to break and bring her along again--boy was holding steady on not taking anyone out with him and Sally finally stopped trying to wear him down when she had come up to talk to him about missing video games and his shoulders immediately tensed like he was preparing for a hard battle.

It was a wake up call for her, seeing the physical reaction Glenn had upon seeing her and automatically expecting a problem from her.

The second thing she had realized almost embarrassingly slowly. She had started getting caught up in the same dance that everyone else was doing--deferring to Shane about something within the camp and trying to badger him about changing Glenn’s mind for supply runs. It took Sally two days to remember the concept of free will and that she didn’t need Shane’s permission slip to leave the camp if she wanted to.

But she wasn’t cocky enough to believe she could go out of the camp and into walker infested territory on her own--especially when they were still freshly turned and it would be a few years before they were decaying and much, much slower. So, she needed a spotter, as well as someone to watch her back.

That left most of the camp out--Glenn would flat out refuse, T-dog would tell on her to Shane, Carol wasn’t a badass yet, and Shane was too busy getting his willy wet with Lori to be of any fucking help. The Morales couple tended to stay to themselves no matter how many times Sally tried to start up a conversation with them and she wasn’t desperate enough to deal with Merle’s generally racist presence and sexist demeanor.

Which left Daryl (but can it really be ‘ left Daryl’ when he was the first person she thought of?) and figuring out how to get the guy to hop in her truck and drive around with her when he was all but feral around everyone who’s name wasn’t Merle Dixon.

So. That left Sally to a last resort that she really didn’t like but it was the only time she could get Daryl alone.

She didn’t know what he did--he could be shitting, or taking a walk by himself, or going out hunting--but he left the camp and stalked into the woods whenever Merle was getting high. (Well, Sally didn’t actually know if that’s what Merle was doing--she just assumed that's what he did because he’d sneak into their shared camping tent and wouldn’t come back out for hours.)

So came the time on the third day in the afternoon when Merle went for his getting-high-time and Daryl paced around the camp, chewing at his thumb before finally getting annoyed enough to leave the camping grounds altogether.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” Sally mumbled to Amy. The blonde girl nodded, only half paying attention to her and turned a page in her book.

Sally stood to her feet, stretching her arms up above her with a sigh before following after Daryl at a sedate pace. She had her hiking boots on, her knife strapped to her hip, and comfortable enough clothing on that would help protect her skin from the environment as well as the sun. She twisted her ginger colored locks into a bun while following after the older man.

Twenty minutes had gone by before she realized that not only had she lost track of Daryl, but she had also gotten herself lost.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” she grumbled to herself.

“The hell you doin’,” Daryl grouched out of nowhere, scaring the shit out of Sally and nearly making her jump ten feet in the air. “You followin’ me, huh?”

Sally turned, noticing the crossbow pointed at her head first. For a moment, she wondered if she should have planned this meeting out better--but then again, Daryl and Rick’s first meeting was telling him he left his brother to die on a roof in Atlanta--so compared to that, a harmless little meet in the woods was leagues better.See AlsoOther Health & Beauty, Health & BeautyASA PC Patch Notes: Client v58.21 - Server: v58.21 (Updated:12/23/2024)Metzger Auction | ONLINE ONLY AUCTION! WARSAW OVERSTOCK, HOME IMPROVEMENT, STORE RETURNS & NEW MERCHANDISE!!  WARSAW, IN 

“I know that mouth o’ yours works, College Girl--you don’ stop blabbering in camp with your Chinaman boyfriend,” Daryl spat out, nicknaming her college girl like it was supposed to be an insult. Maybe to him it was.

“He’s Korean.” she corrected, the words coming out automatically.

“Whatever,” Daryl said dismissively.

“And we’re not together.” Sally said a beat later. Was that what it looked like to everyone at camp? Shit, she would have to do something about that before they came up on the Greene family farm--last thing she wanted to do was accidentally give Maggie the wrong impression between her and Glenn. Sally needed those two to get together, they were her favorite couple! Besides, how was she supposed to survive the apocalypse without getting Glenn’s shitty flirting and huge crush on Maggie as free entertainment?

“And could you please put that thing down?” Sally asked, pointing to the crossbow with the hand that wasn’t on her hip.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Probably ‘cause you're still pointing a weapon at me.” Sally snipped, tongue poking the inside of her cheek in irritation.

The space between them was tense, Daryl scowling hard before scoffing and dropping the crossbow to his side.

“Thank you,” Sally said and the look Daryl gave her told her exactly where he thought she could shove her thank you.

There’s something buzzing in the air that Sally thinks might be cicadas but hell if she knew what they actually were. All she knew was that they were only slightly less annoying than the summer heat and humidity.

“And to answer your question,” she tilts her head back and forth, “yeah, I was.”

Daryl’s scowl returned in full force (although if Sally was being honest with herself, it never really left) and before he could snap something at her she spoke first.

“I need your help looking for a wa--geek,” she said, almost accidentally saying walker instead of geek. Sally was pretty sure they wouldn’t start calling them walkers until Rick came into the picture and that was still a couple weeks off, if Sally’s estimations were correct.

“And it’s not because I want to play with them or throw rocks at them or anything stupid like that--I just need to test some hypotheses of mine.”

The hunter shifted his weight from one foot to another, agitated about something--Sally just hoped she wasn’t the cause of it. He then looked down his nose at her, like she was some kind of animal he hadn’t come across yet.

“You some kinda scientist?” He asked, dropping the crossbow and slinging the band over his shoulder like he finally came to a decision about something.

“Not exactly,” she scooted around the question because how was she supposed to say she already knew all of this because it was a TV show she grew up with? And even if she didn’t have this, she had still lived through Covid--her world had had its own global pandemic shitstorm too.

“The hell’s tha’ supposed to mean?” he snapped.

“I don’t have my name on a fancy piece of paper, is what it means. But if you help me find a geek then I’ll let you in on some of my theories--how’s that?” Sally negotiated, her tone going up toward the end and sounding like a question instead of the hard to pass up chance she wanted it to sound like.

The cicadas buzzed. Sunlight filtered through the green leaves, creating tiny spots across the hunter’s clothes. The humidity was making them both sweat, their bangs sticking to their foreheads.

For a moment neither of them spoke.

Then Daryl turned on his foot, walking through the forest with a surety that Sally has never felt.

“I ain’t looking for you if you get lost out here,” he warned over his shoulder and Sally moved forward quickly, not daring to see if he would come through on that or not.

Chapter 6

Summary:

Sally and Ed have a talk. Kinda. Daryl teaches Sally something new before the game starts.

Notes:

Hello! Guess who didn't go to their classes today to catch up on readings that they should've done a week ago? Me. Again. But on the bright side, I'm now (mostly) caught up again so yay! (Don't do what I do, it'll only stress you out.)

TRIGGER WARNING: nothing bad or explicit - besides Merle being Merle. Should I put that as a warning every chapter or are the tags good enough?

Let me know if y'all see any typos/errors so I can fix it! (not beta-read, we die like canon fodder).

Anyways! We are coming up on Canon territory and canon divergence at that!

CANON WARNING: If anybody here likes canon compliant/canon re-telling's with just extra characters, this is NOT the fic for you, I'm sorry. I really like playing in the TWD sandpit and I will make sandcastles and knock them down just as easily. if you want canon re-telling's you are not gonna find it here.

I think that's all for updates/news. Thank you all for your support like always, it really means the world to me!

CHARACTERS: Also, do y'all prefer reading accents like how you hear them, or would you prefer it be written normally? EX: a character saying 'my' but it's spelled 'mah'.

Enjoy! <3

Chapter Text

It was easier than Sally thought it would be, to get into a routine within the camp.

The four people that she spent the most time with were Glenn, T-dog, Daryl, and Amy. Sally wasn’t a very endearing person to be around for most of the group, she had come to find out, after pulling the information out of T-dog. She didn’t know how, or where really, but somehow her reputation across the camp had become a rich college bitch and a California feminist.

She also didn’t know how those were two separate insults but it's not like she has anyone she could go up to and ask about it.

For the most part Sally was okay with it and being politely shunned by most members of the group. It’s not like she was holding feminist rally’s next to the fire pit, but she might as well have, going by the camp’s general attitude towards her and her no-nonsense attitude towards the male gender in the group. She wasn’t endeared to the men because she refused to cook and clean for them. But because she typically fed herself and did her own laundry, the women had taken a neutral stance to her. (Andrea in particular thought she was a riot while Sally didn’t know how she felt about the woman. On one hand, she would be a massive pain in the ass when the governor and Shane and Lori’s shit came around. But Sally also didn’t feel right judging the woman for something she had yet to do.)

So, some of Sally’s favorite times during the day had become the time when Daryl would walk with her to find a walker. He was a steady presence by her side, and it took a couple days for him to get semi-comfortable around her. At least enough so it didn’t look like someone was holding a gun to his head when she came within six feet of him.

Sally thinks it also helped--though there was no way in hell that Daryl would ever admit to it--that she never unleashed her bitchy side on him. Though she had no problem being a bitch to Shane, Merle, or any other man in camp who talked down to her, trying to throw her sex in her face. She sure as hell had never thrown a piece of firewood at Daryl and she sure as hell never would. Sometimes Sally worried what Daryl thought of her--it was so easy to feed off of the hunter’s silent presence and energy. She wondered what she seemed like to him--if he thought she was some nerdy quiet girl who only wanted to strengthen the camps defenses, or if all he saw was some rabid (in this era at least) feminist who got a kick out of dogging the men around camp and having to prove how much smarter she was then everyone else.

Not like she could ask him either.

“What’re you doin’?” Think of the devil and he shall appear it seems.

“Smell test.” Sally answered while wiping her palms down her jean covered thighs. “Or olfactory testing, if you’re feeling academic.” She joked though it landed flat.

Quite early on, Daryl had found a small cave within the quarry where the ground collapsed at one point, creating what could only be considered a pothole in the ground—if said pothole was actually five feet wide and around ten feet deep. (The bright side about that was she didn’t need to drive around with the truck needlessly guzzling gas left and right. The less bright side meant that she was hiking in the Georgian heat for about forty-fifty minutes in the afternoon every day.)

Trapped within the hole were two walkers who ambled around in circles, yet to notice their presence above them.

On the ground in front of Sally lay three walker arms that had been cut off previous walkers they had come across. On the left was one dipped in normal walker blood. The middle arm had been coated in freshly killed squirrel blood—courtesy of Daryl. And the arm on the far right had been dabbed with Sally’s own blood, which she had attained after pulling at a hangnail and letting the blood drip onto the arm.

The red-haired woman looked up from her spot on the ground, making eye contact with the hunter and after a silent nod, they both tossed an arm over the side of the hole. They dangled in the air a few feet above the walkers' heads and swayed with the motion.

Up above, Sally had taken a notebook out—courtesy of Glenn’s supply runs—setting it on her thigh and tapping a quiet rhythm over the blank pages with a pen. (The notebook was mostly for show of course, but she needed a way to show how she knew certain things about walkers, especially when it was still so early on in the show).

The swaying arms gained the walkers’ attention, making them appear almost like they were waking up. Their low growling filled the air, decaying arms reaching up above their heads to try and bring down what had gotten their attention in the first place.

“They’re goin’ for your blood,” Daryl noted with a frown, moving away from the edge after a couple of minutes to watch their surroundings.

“Mhm,” Sally hummed, agreeing with the observation. Down below them in the pit, the two walkers had ignored the walker's blood covered arm entirely, instead focusing on trying to reach the one that had small rivulets of Sally’s blood on it.

“Can you lower the squirrel blood one?” She asked after another moment and Daryl nodded.

Her stomach quenched uneasily at the sight— god she really needed to get over that— of the arm being lowered so that it was within grabbing distance. Unsurprisingly to Sally, only one of the walkers went after the arm that was more easily attainable while the other stayed trying to reach for the Sally-blood-walker-arm.

At least until it heard the other one munching away at the squirrel blood. Then the second walker turned toward the sound of feeding and joined the first walker for lunch.

Sally noted with a faint academic interest how they didn’t try to munch their way through the arm but instead were doing a very weird licking ritual.

“They ain’t eating it,” Daryl said first after poking his head over the hole to check on them. Sally wrote the note down in the margins of her notebook.

“Nope,” she agreed, turning to another page. “They won’t eat the dead flesh—either it’s been dead too long or they can smell the virus.”

“Same thing ain’t it.” Daryl gruffed and Sally tilted her head to the side considering it before agreeing with him.

“You’d think they’d fight over it, wouldn’t you,” Sally remarked, fiddling with a corner of the page. “The only thing they eat is living flesh and they’ve been stuck down there for days--you’d think they’d be starving.”

Daryl’s eyes flickered down on her before looking away again.

“Humans fight over resources and food all the time,” she continued quietly, “but it's like they don’t even notice.”

“You done?” he asked, jerking his chin at the notebook.

“I guess so. That concludes today's tests, I suppose.” She sighed, twisting around to pop her back before pushing up off the ground. Daryl watched her with an unreadable expression, shouldering his crossbow after she put the notebook in her backpack.

“Crackers?” Sally asked Daryl with a raised brow, holding the plastic packaging between the two of them like a peace offering. “They’re peanut butter.”

He glanced between her and the crackers suspiciously before pulling the top two and shoving them in his mouth, resolutely staring straight ahead. Sally bit back a smile, hiding it behind a hand while she ate her own cracker.

(She was pretty sure she was making progress with the man. He took a cracker from her, that counted as progress, right ?)

Sally had a problem on her hands. A problem that she had stupidly forgotten about.

Ed. Ed the ungrateful and abusive son of a bitch that stood as Carol’s husband.

It had been just another day at camp, Sally and Daryl had come back from their walk when Amy had asked Sally to take her place helping prepare for dinner because she wasn’t feeling well and needed to lie down for a bit.

Sally had initially wanted to refuse but she was in a good mood after hanging out with Daryl and so she had said yes.

And that was the end of the just another day at camp bullshit because not even ten minutes had passed before Carol brushed up alongside Sally and she saw a bruised and purple handprint wrapped around Carol’s wrist before the woman hastily pulled her sleeves down in a self-conscious manner.

“Hey, Carol…” Sally called, and she could barely hear her voice with the blood rushing in her ears.

How could she be so stupid, how could she have forgotten this?!

“—really nothing, I bruise easily. Always so embarrassing you know—thin blood vessels can do that to you. I actually had an appointment with my doctor for a new medication, but I guess that won’t be happening now, will it?” Carol tried to joke, voice tilting up at the end and her shoulders hunching closer to her neck. Sally hummed noncommittally, knocking her elbow against Jaqi’s to get the older woman’s attention.

“I forgot something,” Sally said quietly to Jaqi who was peeling carrots on her other side. “I’ll be right back.”

“Sounds good, honey,” Jaqi nodded, her bangs moving with the motion. She tucked up against Carol’s side, pulling the woman into a conversation that Sally couldn’t hear anymore.

It was a conscious effort, to not let her anger take control of her and go into a blackout rage. Each step was measured, every breath was careful. By the time Sally made it to her truck, she had entered an almost Zen level of calm.

Would she use the bat? Or just finish it all with the gun? The gun would certainly save them all a headache, but it didn’t have near the same amount of satisfaction as a bat did.

Sally leaned against the open passenger seat and turned the gun over in her hands before deciding against it. A bullet was the easy way out for trash like him. Sally didn’t want Ed to have a quick and painless death like an execution bullet would give him—no she wanted him in pain and afraid. Even if it was just a smidge of the same fear that Carol had felt for all the years, they’d been together.

Sally dropped the gun back into her glovebox, locking the truck before making her trek over to where the men congregated together in the camp.

She swung her metal bat around in her hand lightly, almost walking with a pep in her step.

“You gon’ give Ole Merle a show, huh?” Merle leered from the Dixon brothers’ open tent flap.

"Oh, I'll give you something alright," Sally said under her breath.

“ Merle .” Daryl said lowly, dropping his crossbow and leaning it against a cooler. He looked up, catching Sally’s gaze before his eyes lingered on the bat in her hands.

“Hey, Ed!” She called sweetly, coming up behind him where he leaned against a truck with a cigarette dangling between his lips.

He didn’t even get to fully turn around before she had swung the bat in a full arc, smashing the end of it into the backs of his knees. He crumpled to the dirt with a shout that alerted the others in camp.

“You like hitting women? Huh? Is that right, Ed?” Sally continued, drawing the bat up and slamming it down into his stomach. She couldn’t risk accidentally shattering a rib into his lung or a potential death-killing blow to the head—not if she wanted him to suffer through Shane’s future beat down as well as becoming walker food.

But she could sure as fuck make it hurt .

“You like hitting girls?” The bat made a cracking sound against his knee. “You like hitting people who can’t fight back, huh?” Another swing. Crunch. “Does it make you feel strong , Ed?” Swing.

She kept whaling on him with the bat and when someone finally grabbed it out of her hands—Shane she thinks—she didn't stop her assault. She switched tactics, kicking at him as hard as she could, digging her steel toed boots into his stomach, his arms, his thighs, whatever she could reach--she made damn sure there would be a bruise there.

“Come on, come on,” a voice drawled in her ear, warm breath fanning across her neck. Strong arms wrapped around her stomach, physically hauling her up into the air and away from Ed.

“Ed! Oh, Ed! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Ed!” Carol cried from beside him, her fingers fluttering from his face to his chest and back up again. Sophia stood behind her mother with wide eyes, shoulders hunched in on themselves, her doll hanging limply in her grasp.

Sally didn’t even know when the two had run over.

She struggled against the person holding her, trying to shimmy her way out of their iron-like grip, kicking her legs out futilely. “Let me go—let go, dammit!”

“Nah,” Daryl’s voice came from behind her—he was the one holding her then, she hadn't even noticed.

Sally heaved a sigh, nearly collapsing in his arms, the fight leaving her body almost as soon as it had come. She had her palms covering the backs of Daryl’s hands, squeezing at them—maybe for comfort, or maybe for a reminder, she didn’t know.

“You done picking fights?” Daryl drawled by her ear, arms still in a vice grip around her midsection.

“ No ,” she mumbled back, just to be contrary. “Son of a bitch should be happy I didn’t shoot him.” she added for good measure, leaning back against Daryl’s chest. If he was gonna keep her from beating the shit out of someone who well and truly deserved it, then the least he could fucking do was hold up her body weight for her.

Her “little stunt” as Shane had so lovingly taken to calling it, had cost Sally her bat and her fucking gun because he had decided she couldn’t be trusted with them after beating someone with one and then threatening to use the other.

For whatever reason that Shane refused to tell her, she was allowed to keep her combat knife although she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere near the Peletier family. (Sally wasn’t sure, but she wondered if Daryl, Glenn, or T-dog argued in her defense. If she had to bet on one person, however, she would choose Glenn since he had the most sway with Shane and Lori as the sole errand-boy of the group.)

It made her feel like Andrea, when she had gotten her own gun taken away from her because of Dale’s bitch-ass. (Suicidal ideations notwithstanding.)

The only thing that had changed was that Daryl had gotten closer to her.

And not even in an emotional sense or friendship sense—no, the standoffish hunter had literally gotten closer to her. He no longer only paid attention to her and her antics when she was doing walker research—now she saw the man out of the corner of her eye around camp just about all the time. Did he say anything to her about it? Maybe explain anything to Sally?

Fuck no.

He still acted like a bite-happy street dog, always prowling along the edge of the perimeter or the corner of her eyesight. For what? Sally couldn’t say. And she sure as shit wasn’t going to bring the change of behavior up to the man himself, especially when he still acted like he was just waiting for her to do or say something to set him off.

The weird behavior had finally come to a head one day, when Sally had been minding her business, sitting in the bed portion of her truck with the tailgate and back window open. She’d just been doodling in the margins of the pages after she had spent the last hour or so writing down important things she thought could be useful later down the line. Some of it was ideas for walker-killing and diversion—but most of it had been the most hopeful and toxic positivity bullshit she could muster up, just in case anyone came across her notebook while they (or hell, even Sally herself ) were in a particularly shitty headspace.

And then of course, the image was shattered because a string of dead, and tied up by their necks, squirrels had been thrown directly to her right, smacking into the back window and flopping onto her tailgate with a thud.

“Huh?” Sally hawed, blinking. She looked away from the dead squirrels and up in the direction they had come from and—yep. That sure as shit was Daryl Dixon standing not even five feet away from her truck, silently watching her try to process him throwing dead animals at her car.

“‘Said you liked squirrels.” He explained in a voice that actually explained nothing to her.

“I did?” She hesitated, trying to figure out how best to approach this…delicate matter. How in the fuck is she supposed to react to a person throwing dead animal carcasses at her?

“If you aint want em, jus’ say that.” Daryl scowled at her, stalking forward to grab the dead squirrels.

“Woah!” Sally freaked, grabbing at the string and pulling it away before Daryl could stalk off with it again. “I never said that.”

“You was thinkin’ it,” he snapped.

“ No, I wasn’t,” she said gently back to him. If anything, that only made him scowl harder at her.

“Look—“ she sighed, pushing her hair over her shoulder so it flopped down her back. “Up until very recently,” she waved a hand around at the camp and their surroundings, “I was a vegetarian.”

“Vegetarian?” Daryl repeated, like he couldn’t quite believe his ears.

“Yes, vegetarian.” Sally admitted, cheeks heating with embarrassment. She didn’t even know why this whole conversation was so embarrassing to her. If anything, it was the start to a good joke—what happens when a hunter and a vegetarian walk into a bar type shit. “So, I—I mean to say that I—it’s just…” What did he want from her? What was she supposed to do with this?

Sally sighed, feeling like she was grasping at straws before giving up and deciding to just be blunt about it. “I appreciate this, really I do. But Daryl, I don’t know how to cook this.”

The older man was silent, watching her with a slightly tilted head before motioning with his chin.

“Come on, I’ll show ya.” He mumbled, hand reaching out across her tailgate to pick up the squirrels.

“Wait, really?” She asked because she couldn’t quite believe her ears.

“That’s what I said, didn’t I.” Daryl pointed out gruffly. (And if Sally was being honest with herself, he was quite sassy with it but she sure as shit wouldn’t be making that observation aloud to the older man anytime soon.)

The excitement about learning something from Daryl and getting to spend time with him died a very quick and painful death five minutes into his impromptu how to skin a squirrel lesson.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Sally commented around the fingers pressed against her lips.

Daryl kicked something at her with his foot, the object rolling over her shoe.

“There’s the bucket,” he said pragmatically, without even pausing in his lesson.

Maybe if she just didn’t look at the squirrel, everything would be okay.

“What we got here, little brother?” And just when Sally didn’t think the lesson could get any worse, Merle showed up.

“What you want, Merle,” Daryl intoned quietly, not even looking up from the fifth squirrel he had started skinning, while Sally was still on her first one.

“What, ole Merle can’t even be around his baby brother when there’s a girl around, is that it?” Merle heckled, tilting his head with a grin.

“And he is my baby brother, Red,” Merle emphasized with a roll of his hips. “But you don’ need ta worry about that. I'd be happy ta show you a good time.”

Sally pursed her lips and set down the skinning knife in her hands—last thing she wanted to do was lose her temper and start waving a knife around at the old redneck. (Not because she’d get her knife taken away for doing so, but because Merle actually had training and experience in knife fighting and she wasn’t about to give him a reason to use it on her.)

“Just so we’re all clear here,” Sally said, waving a finger in a circle between the three of them, “ you’re ,” she pointed at him, “offering me ,” she pointed at herself, “to have sex, is that right?” She monotoned.

Merle waggled his eyebrows at her, licking his lips in an obscene way that had Sally crossing her fingers behind her back so she wasn’t tempted to throw something at him.

“Absolutely not,” she said, unimpressed.

“Rugmuncher,” Merle snorted, clearly over the conversation already.

“I’m not a lesbian because I don’t want to sleep with you, Merle,” Sally explained slowly, “I don’t want to sleep with you because your fucking racist. ”

Merle scoffed, narrowing his eyes at her. “Democrat,” he said, like that was somehow the worst thing a person could be in his eyes.

“And proud!” Sally shouted after him while he walked away. “Don’t forget the and proud part, you arrogant asshole!” She unhooked her fingers from each other, tearing into the squirrel with a renewed gusto and pissed the hell off but trying to put the anger to use instead of stewing in it.

“Shit,” she muttered out loud, turning to look at Daryl from the corner of her eye and realizing he had just watched that entire scene and watched her call his older brother an asshole. It’s not like they were close enough that she could get away with calling Merle names—hell, Shane did it and Daryl constantly defended Merle, even when Merle was the one in the wrong.

“I’m sorry for calling your brother an arrogant asshole in front of you,” Sally apologized quickly, because she’d rather be on the safe side.

“So you’d say it behind mah back?” Daryl asked, flinging squirrel innards into a bucket on the table without looking up.

Sally’s jaw dropped audibly at the blunt reply. Out of everything he could have said--she was preparing herself to be called an entitled bitch. She thought he’d tell her to get lost since she insulted his family, maybe throw the skinned squirrels at her. But to call her out on her words? She definitely didn’t expect that.

“Better get going--your friend’s wanna talk.” He muttered, glancing over her shoulder at Glenn and T-dog who were calling her over with a wave of their arms.

Sally stepped away from him, happy to have an excuse to walk away from the conversation and how it might have negatively impacted her burgeoning friendship with the man before frowning to herself and walking back to him.

“They’re your friends too, you know,” Sally reminded him gently before jogging to the small group of people who had accumulated around Glenn and Shane.

“You’re here,” Glenn greeted with a nod of his head, “Good. We’re putting together a group to do a supply run to Atlanta."

Chapter 7

Summary:

Shane and Sally have a small tiff. Glenn jokes with Sally after. The Atlanta supply run happens, and Sally finds herself in a tough spot.

Notes:

Hello! How's everyone's finals going? (I've got so much shit to do so what do I do instead? Some retail therapy after class and then come home to write fanfiction about the walking dead, of course!) Also, I've been rewatching the series and I'm on the Prison arc and lemme just say....I do not remember them all being like, "we're going to war." babe. Baby. Baby-cakes. It is literally 13 v 30 something. That is not a war. That is a very unfair game of dodgeball. That is a backyard spat. That is one group protesting something on one side of the street and people protesting the protestors on the other side of the street. Like let's be a little real here.

But that just makes me super excited to get to writing that part (still gotta get through what I have planned for s1 and s2 first though).

I'm excited since this is my first slow burn eheheh. (And when I say slow burn, OOH do I mean slow burn. Like I'm used to k-drama and c-drama slow burn if that paints a picture for anyone.)

Anyway, I have a Daryl POV coming up soon--I'm a little nervous with it--but I'm still messing around with it for now.

ALSOOOO for all my T-dog lovers, do not worrrry, T-dog and Sally bonding time is coming soon, trust.

As usual, if you see any error's/mistakes, lemme know so I can fix them <3 (I can only stare at this for so long before my eyes bleed)

Thank you again! Enjoy! <3

Chapter Text

“Absolutely not.” Sally breathed harshly; the moment Shane had finished telling them who would be going with Glenn to Atlanta for supplies.

“Sally--” Glenn said quietly, trying to signal with his eyes that it wasn’t worth a fight.

“No, Glenn--that’s practically suicidal what he’s suggesting--”

“Oh, here we go,” Shane said with a roll of his eyes, tilting his head to the side and waving a hand at Sally, “Alright, let's hear it. What’s Miss Butterscotch have a problem with now? Hmm ?”

She almost rolled her eyes, the nickname wholly unnecessary to the conversation but if she did it would just give Shane more ammo.

“Everyone you chose--”

“They volunteered to go, but continue--” he interrupted, setting his hands on his thighs to lean down.

“It’s bringing a damn dinner bell to a city--with a population of almost half a million by the way --and ringing it for every walker in the city to hear! Not a single one of them has used a gun--Andrea doesn’t even know how to turn the safety off--” Sally continued, waving an arm at the blonde woman who looked up with an offended gasp, holding the gun in her hands.

“It’s the red dot,” Shane turned to Andrea, miming switching it to the side and back before looking at Sally again, “anything else that’s really twisting your panties about this, sweetheart?”

“People are going to die--or get left behind--” Sally couldn’t help a quick glance in Merle’s direction, who was watching the verbal spat with a toothy grin on his face, “--a smaller group would be better. Glenn, T-dog, and I can go, it’ll be more efficient, not to mention safer .” she said quickly, pointing at the three of them for emphasis. A smaller group meant it was less likely for things to go wrong--it meant Merle not getting stuck on a goddamn roof and becoming a pain in Sally’s ass later down the line.

“I know how to shoot a gun, it’s not that hard--” Andrea began to say, stepping into the conversation.

“I’m pretty sure we just established that shooting a gun in the city is a bad idea Andrea, but thanks for your input.” Sally quipped sarcastically towards the blonde woman before turning to look each group member in the eyes. “No offense, but not a single one of you have killed wa-g eeks --you’re a liability and a safety risk outside the camp and I don’t want to deal with you freezing--”

“We’d appreciate it if you got off your geek-killing high horse.” Jaqi cut in, arms crossed and her lips pursed in displeasure. “Have you actually even killed any at all?”

“I was on my own for weeks before Glenn and T-dog showed up, so yes Jaqi, I have in fact killed my fair share of geeks.” Sally exhaled, shifting her weight to the other leg and looking at the map of Atlanta laid on T-dog’s church van. (Weeks was a bit of an over stretch, but it’s not like they needed to know that.)

“Sitting nice and pretty in an office building doesn’t count when the building is doing all the hard work for you.” Shane scoffed, pulling his cap off his head and casually brushing his hair back a few times.

“And you'd know all about sitting nice and pretty, wouldn’t you, Shane?” Sally snapped, leaning forward over the front wheel of the van.

“GUYS!” Glenn cut in harshly, taking the map off the van’s hood and anxiously rolling it up in his hands. “Enough fighting. We’re all in this together--so, if you want to go then get ready--be next to T’s van in ten.”

Glenn had cut the building tension between everyone so easily it was almost like it hadn’t happened at all.

Sally nodded after a moment, walking away to her truck and shuffling around for what she wanted. She already had a go-bag ready and sitting in her backseat, that she packed her first few days after arriving at camp. She called it her bug-out-bag but really it was more of a when shit hits the fan bag that she had made in the event that she was a part of the Atlanta supply run--which she didn’t think she would be on, since Shane had taken her gun and bat from her. So instead, she packed it for the days leading up to whenever the Greene family farm would be overrun.

And now it was her Atlanta bag.

Again.

“What was that about?” Glenn asked quietly, already leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. He must’ve followed her after the group had disbanded.

“What was what about?” Sally repeated innocently, focusing on checking everything in her bag.

“Sally,” Glenn said in that slightly disappointed tone of his that just curdled her gut.

“Okay, fine,” Sally sighed heavily, tilting her head back. “It’s not gonna end well if we bring so many people--”

“Not that.” Glenn cut her off, sliding his hands into his pockets and tilting his head against the truck. His ball cap shifted slightly, brushing against the metal. “That thing with Shane. What’s going on there?”

Sally raised her eyebrows at him.

Glenn then raised his.

“Besides the fact that he took two out of three of my weapons? And that if I even tried to go up to him and ask for them back--for the trip--he’d say no and quote what I said earlier? And by quote, what I really mean is he’ll twist my words around--saying some bull like “I shouldn’t have a gun because it’s ringing a dinner bell?” or “If I want to boss people around so much then I should lead by example?”” Sally huffed, making air quotations before dropping her hands back down to her sides.

Glenn winced, pulling a hand out of his pocket to rub at his nose while he looked to the side, considering.

“Oh my god,” Sally said quietly. “Do you think I’m bossy?”

He inhaled hard, eyes widening astronomically. “I think you care-- a lot .”

“You think I’m bossy, don’t you,” Sally repeated, this time turning to look at him, her bag forgotten and her hip bumping against the foot step.

“I think you care ,” he repeated firmly, just when Sally almost started to feel legitimately hurt. “And maybe to macho-tough guys like Shane--it comes across as bossy. I mean, I don’t know. I can’t answer for other people like that,” Glenn said, pulling his ball cap off to fidget with it in his hands.

“Wow, thank you, Glenn. That’s a great non-answer, if I’ve ever heard one.” She said flatly, almost rolling her eyes but stopping herself just in time.

“I don’t know, okay--I just don’t.” Glenn started, staring her down. “I mean, to me you’re not--and trust me, I know what bossy is.”

At Sally’s confused face, he explained, pointing at himself. “Second-generation immigrant here? Parents are from Korea? Not one--but two older sisters? Yeah, Sally, I know what bossy looks like and you’re not it.” Glenn said sarcastically, his lips twitching up into a smile at the corner that he was trying to hide.

Sally blinked, processing the information before gasping dramatically, placing a manicured hand over her chest. “Wait, wait, wait--did you just sister-zone me? I don’t even get a chance at the friend-zone, huh?”

Glenn choked, the tips of his ears going pink at her words. A wide grin spread across Sally’s cheeks while she pulled her hair up into a ponytail.

“Are you finished?” Glenn asked, shoving his cap back over his head. “We do actually have stuff to do today.”

She smirked. “ Oh , asking if I’m finished--aren’t you a gentleman,” Sally said, waggling her eyebrows at him.

Glenn rolled his eyes, unimpressed. Then he cocked his head to the side like something had just occurred to him and he pulled his backpack off his shoulder, letting it hang over his elbow while pulling at the top flap. “Oh, what was that?” He said with a hand cupping his ear. “Did I just hear Shane ask for a portable DVD player?”

“ No .” She whispered. "You did not."

“You know what, I think I did,” Glenn continued, pulling an old grey and silver DVD player out of his bag slowly.

“Okay, okay, fine , you win . Whatever. Please just gimme.” Sally said quickly, making grabby hands at the piece of technology he was rapidly shoving back into his pack.

“When we get back,” Glenn promised with a laugh. “You good now?” he asked, slinging the backpack over his shoulder again, his eyes searching hers.

She pursed her lips together, pushing them to one side in faux thought. “I will be once we get back and I can finally watch a movie.”

Glenn agreed with a laugh, saying something about calling dibs on picking the first movie before leaving her to finish packing before they had to leave.

Sally sighed, pulling out two extra pairs of clothes and instead replacing them with more food and water, as well as a poncho that she could soak in walker-guts and wouldn’t mind parting with, if it came down to it. She then locked the truck behind her, moving toward Daryl and Merle’s shared camping tent.

Luckily, Merle had already gone ahead, where Sally could see him resting his foot up on one of the church van’s tires, much to T-dog’s silent ire. Daryl, however, had his crossbow in hand and what looked like a new pack of arrows in a sling over his shoulder. He turned in her direction when he heard her approaching.

“Heard from Merle you goin’ to Atlanta for supplies,” he said.

Sally pursed her lips. If Merle had said that then he would have also told Daryl about Sally and Shane’s tiff.

“Hear anything else from him?” she asked innocently.

Daryl shook his head, looking down at her. “Nah,” he said and before she could sigh in relief he spoke again. “Don’ need tah hear it from him when I could hear it from here.”

She whipped her head around to stare at him, see if he was messing with her or something but he wasn’t. Just looked like he was stating a fact like the sky was blue and grass was green.

“You should go.” He nodded toward the van where Andrea was holding a hand out for Jaqi to hold while stepping into the van.

“Right,” Sally said aloud, thankful for the reminder of what she had come over for, “here you go.” she said brightly, handing her composition book over to him, the one that she had taken all her walker notes in.

“The hell I need that for,” he scoffed, whipping the notebook out of her hands and rifling through it anyway with a scowl on his face.

“Well, I don’t want to lose it accidentally,” Sally explained, hiking her bag further up her shoulder. “And I don’t want it getting damaged either.”

“Put it in your truck then, I ain’t gonna start holdin’ your shit for you.” He gruffed.

“It’s safer with you,” Sally said gently, pushing the composition book into his hands again. “I know you’ll take care of it—besides, what if you see something? You could write it down!” She explained excitedly, ruffling through the book to show him some of the pages that were still open for notes.

He was quiet for a moment, before suddenly coming to a decision and grabbing the book back. “Don’ think this means I’m gonna start holdin’ purses an' shit for you, ‘cause I ain’t.”

Sally smiled at his display. He certainly acted all tough about it, but eventually, come time and patience and maybe a little bit of elbow grease—he’d come around to her just like he did with everyone else in the group. (Sally was just getting an early start with him.)

“Thanks, Daryl.” She thanked him, wanting so badly to wrap him up in a hug and give him a little shake, just like she did with her mom and her cousins. Sally was about ninety percent certain that if she tried that with him, he might actually punch her lights out just as a reflex of someone getting into his personal space.

So instead she had to settle for a verbal thank you and goodbye that left him looking like a deer in headlights.

“Having fun flirtin’ with my baby brother, Red?” Merle asked her once she got to the church van and the only available seat left was next to the group's resident racist.

“It’s called befriending someone—you should try it sometime Merle, maybe you’ll be happier.” Sally bit out, pulling her bag off her shoulder and onto her lap while she fastened her seatbelt. The rest of these idiots might think it's fine to not wear a seatbelt because traffic isn’t a thing anymore, but Sally wasn’t about to go through a windshield after the van rolls because it hit a stray walker.

“And for the love of God, Merle, stop calling me that.” she huffed.

“Oh, does it bother you? Well, we can’ be havin' that happen, now can we?” Merle sniggered and Sally knew right then and there that Merle would call her literally anything else before he called her by her name.

Sally really should have seen this coming. Hell, she should’ve hauled her ass back to the department store they were looting the second the shooting stopped.

But she got greedy. She got so fucking greedy, and now she was paying the price for it.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit .” She muttered like a mantra to herself, turning a corner in the alleyways too fast and nearly toppling into a street full of walkers. There went trying to get back into the department store through the employee entrance. The front was a no-go of course, facing the main street full of walkers that she couldn’t even hope of getting by, just based on the sound of them alone.

“Fuck!” Sally screeched, throwing a walker off her before it could latch on and take a chunk out of her. She kicked another one in the chest, using the momentum to propel herself backwards and take off running down a different alley.

Crows cawed above her, the sound mingling with the shuffling footsteps of walkers behind her and the breathy groans filling the air. Her lungs screamed for air, her thighs burned from exertion and her face was somehow dripping with sweat and dryer than the Sahara Desert at the same time.

A walker popped around the corner, nearly making Sally scream if she hadn’t already been choking for air. It turned around at the same time that she smashed her combat knife into its skull, the body dropping like a sack of bricks and Sally hit the ground running once again. She saw a fire escape up ahead that didn’t have a guard over it, just two walkers idling near it.

Water fell onto her face then, slowly at first before all at once. A July shower that would pass quickly based on the light clouds in the sky but Sally didn’t want to stay out in the streets--at the mercy of walkers and the weather--any longer than she absolutely had to.

A few blocks away, a car alarm had gone off, the sound chasing down the street before passing the department store.

She almost slammed into a wall, not being able to turn on her heel fast enough, smacking her knee and palm into the cement. She was so high on adrenaline at the moment that she didn’t even feel the way her skin had ripped open from the slight impact, leaving two bloody imprints on the wall.

Sally held her injured hand to her chest, trying to keep the broken skin as clean as possible until she could get somewhere safe to clean it.

She was so close to the fire escape, she could almost taste it.

Only one of the walkers had noticed her, the one closest to the fire escape and the entrance of the alleyway. She picked up speed, praying to God that she wasn’t making the dumbest decision of her fucking life and dropped her shoulders like her older male cousins had taught her too. She body slammed the first walker, tucking her shoulder into its stomach and driving her feet into the ground with a war cry. The walker toppled backwards, falling into the other walker and sending that one to the ground as well.

Her hands shook, grappling at the fire escape that was slick with water and she missed the ladder the first time. A quick look back showed the walkers were getting up slowly, but the alley entrance was filling up with the walkers she had outrun only minutes earlier.

“Fucking move, Sally,” she cried to herself and she couldn’t tell if her vision was blurry because of the rain or because she was crying from stress. She quickly decided that either way it didn’t matter and she reached for the fire escape again, this time getting a hold of it and hauling herself up the ladder, one hand at a time, one foot at a time.

A hand swiped at the lower step where her foot had just been, nearly catching her and dragging her down if it had been a second later.

She moved fast, pressing herself against the ladder as much as she could so her backpack didn’t get stuck on the railings. She didn’t take a break, didn’t stop moving on that ladder because she had two more stories to go and she didn’t want to look down at whatever walkers were slowly climbing after her.

It was just as she reached the top of the ladder escape, hooking an ankle over the building’s edge to help pull herself up did the rain stop. At the same time, she could no longer hear the car alarm blaring in the distance. If she couldn’t hear it anymore, then that meant that the group was gone--Glenn had found Rick and they were off for the Quarry.

A quick glance around the roof showed it was empty and the door leading to the roof was unlocked. She dashed to it, her shoes slapping against the wet cement and the small puddles that had formed splashed across her shoes and jeans. She wrenched the door open, backing up at the same time, just in case there was a walker behind it, but there was none.

She dipped inside after a look behind her, seeing a decaying hand grab at the building’s edge where she had just pulled herself up. Sally pulled the iPhone 3 out of her Carhartt front pocket then, winding her arm up like she was a pro baseball player and launched the phone across the roof, not staying to watch it shatter against the other side, loudly enough to pull the walker's attention temporarily. The roof access door closed behind her, locking it shut for good measure.

Her throat constricted, painfully dry after running for her fucking life. There went any misconceptions she had about getting some Plot Armor after waking up at the Quarry.

Soon the sound of growling walkers grew louder behind the door and even though it was locked, Sally still didn’t want to be sitting there for any longer.

She padded down the stairs quietly, focusing on leveling her breathing and making sure she didn’t step on, or push anything down the stairs that would make noise.

It looked like she had entered an apartment building of some sort. The hallway sign read, 3-C and Sally quietly crept down, keeping an eye out for anything she could trip on or that would ring out an alarm bell saying, Idiot Here! Eat me!

A few of the doors were left ajar, but there was only one walker in the hallway, about ten feet from her and leaning against the wall with its eyes closed. She didn’t want to leave anything to chance, silently tip-toeing over to the walker in such a way that she would have felt ridiculous for doing if anyone had been with her. But there wasn’t anyone with her and she was scared out of her fucking mind, so creep like a caterpillar along a tree branch she went.

As soon as she was close enough, she brought the combat knife down on the walker's head without remorse, twisting it for good measure. As quietly as she could, she rifled through the walker’s pockets, because if it was in the building and up three stories, there was a chance that it likely would have been a resident of the building.

She did find in fact find a set of keys with a tag, clutching them tightly against her chest so that they didn’t chink together and give out her location.

Slowly, she pressed her ear against the first closed door and when she heard shuffling she quickly moved on to the next door. She had gotten about halfway down the hallway before she came across a door where she didn’t hear any movement behind it. She checked the other doors around her, routinely looking up at her surroundings while unclasping the keys from her chest and lowering them to the door. It was so silent that she could have heard a pin drop.

She breathed with her mouth open, tongue poking her bottom teeth while she fingered the keys, trying multiple before one finally fit into the lock and turned.

No sooner had the door unlocked and opened then a walker appeared out of the corner of Sally’s eye, bumbling around the hallway corner and growling. She almost slammed the door shut in her haste to get inside but at the last moment she held it still and locked it with only the faintest of clicks.

Slowly she turned, trying to keep her shoes from squeaking against the flooring. They were still wet from the puddles, not to mention crusted over with walker blood. She didn’t know if she would ever get that shit out.

Carefully, she checked each room, closet, cabinet large enough for a person to hide in, and even under the master bed for any walkers but there was no one. Her solo clearing of the apartment was sloppier than she would have liked but efficiency would come with time and practice. At the moment, she should just be happy that she was alive and in a relatively safe area. As soon as she thought that she kicked off her wet shoes and socks, stripping until she was in just a sports bra and boyshorts underwear, because not a single person--or walker--was about to catch her slacking.

She did a customary bite and scratch check in the bathroom, using the mirror to check her back and shoulders out before sighing when the only broken skin on her body was her knee and left palm. She stayed in the bathroom, using one of her extra water bottles to clean up her injuries as much as she could before she went about properly cleaning and disinfecting them. She must have checked both injuries a thousand times over, even taking her flashlight to them to see if she had potential blood poisoning.

She doesn’t know how long she stayed at the apartment, but she knew it was enough time for her jeans and shoes to go from wet to slightly damp. So, she got dressed again, made triple sure that her bandages weren’t about to come off anytime soon and shuffled around in her pack for a pair of gloves to put over the bandage so it wouldn’t come off at all.

She didn’t linger in the apartment long, just enough to restock her water supply from extra bottles in the pantry, grab a couple snacks that were still edible, and also steal the first aid kit from the bathroom. And then, because she was already taking the first aid kit, she went through the kitchen, bedrooms, and behind the bathroom sinks for any medications that she could nab as well. The only two that she could find were penicillin and some kind of pain medication that was definitely heavily regulated before the apocalypse.

“Time to go,” she mumbled, trying to hype herself up to go back to the department store and see if Merle had been handcuffed and left up there to rot or if she had been the only one left behind—because of butterfly effect or some shit.

Sally tied her boots extra tight, triple knotting them instead of the usual double knot she had started doing. If she was going to be running for her fucking life again, taking fast turns around corners and climbing up ladders then she would make damn sure that her shoes weren’t coming off anytime soon. After another minute of procrastinating by grabbing one more water bottle and tucking it into one of her jacket’s large pockets, she had finally gathered the courage to look out through the peephole, and when she didn’t see anything she pressed her ear to the door waiting for a noise.

When nothing came, she unlocked the door, holding the handle in one hand and her knife in the other, just daring for something to try to wrench the door open so she could acquaint her knife with their skull. Once the coast was clear she locked the door behind her, pocketing the keys and going on her merry way. For a brief moment she had thought about leaving the place unlocked, or locking it and then keeping the keys there--possibly above the door or in the walkers pockets again--but she was a petty bitch and she’d like to know that no one but her could get into the apartment for more supplies. Did that mean she was potentially damming another survivor by taking away a potential resource from them? Yes. But it also meant taking a resource away from a potential future hostile .

The walk back up the stairs was just as slow as it had been the first time, eyes peeled for any threats--dead or living. Occasionally, it felt like her heart would jump into her throat, trying to jackhammer its way out of her esophagus and right onto the floor. Other times, Sally was so scared she thought she had catapulted into total zen.

Once she got to the roof access door, she held her breath, waiting for the sound of multiple walkers--but she only heard one, maybe two on the roof. Which wasn’t unusual--climbers weren’t very common in the first place. A quick peek out the door told her there were two walkers--luckily both on the opposite side of the roof and facing away from the door.

She debated just sneaking past them, but the idea of needing to come back here and getting bit by one while climbing over the ladder escape rubbed her the wrong way. Her decision settled, Sally snuck up to the closest one, putting her hand on one shoulder to steady it before stabbing it through the back of the head. The sound of her knife sliding through bone and brain rot lured the other walker over, its arms grabbing at the arm between the two of them. With a grunt she brought her leg up and into its chest, pushing it away from her just enough that she could safely slam her knife into its eye socket.

“ Fuck , bro,” she sighed heavily, dropping to her knees next to it and wiping her blade clean on its shirt. (If she also used the time to twist to the side and vomit up the food she just found in the apartment--then no one has to know but her.) And if she needed to take a swig from the water bottle in her jacket to wash the taste of vomit out of her mouth--nobody needed to know that either.

She stood from her kneeling position, side stepping the vomit and the walker brain splatter, peeking over the top of the ladder escape--no walkers. Whatever happened to the ones that had been chasing her hours ago had disappeared--she just didn’t know if they were still around or had gone back out to the main streets where they liked to congregate together.

The first few steps down the ladder escape were nerve wracking to say the least. Without adrenaline to aid her and the fear of being eaten to guide her, Sally was left to her own thoughts and her hatred of heights. She could only be thankful that it didn’t last long and soon her feet were on the ground again.

Once outside again, she took more time to be careful, peeking around corners and keeping her eyes and ears peeled for any walker activity near her. But the path between her and the department store was almost empty, aside from a stray here and there that she took down by sneak-attacking. Not the bravest way to take them out but then again, who the fuck cared about bravery during a zombvie apocalypse? That shit only looked good on the big screen--and got you killed during the real deal more often than not.

Unfortunately, both the back door, the employees only door, and the front were full of walkers and Sally did not want to chance donning a poncho soaked in walker guts while she had two open wounds--no matter how well protected she thought they were. Which then started a long ass trek into the building parallel to the department store because they shared a roof together.

Sally was able to avoid most of the walkers. Empty soda cans and office paper weights thrown to the opposite side of the hall did most of the work for Sally by distracting the walkers long enough for her to pass by them unnoticed. She only had to kill two walkers on the eighth floor-- she vaguely recognized it as the place that Merle cauterized his wrist in.

She had just made it to the roof access door when there was a loud banging on the other side that nearly made her jump out of her skin and shit herself at the same time, all in one go.

“ Please, Jesus! Jesus, please! ” Merle’s terrified and pleading voice carried, slightly muffled as it was from behind the door and sounding further away.

Sally opened the door quietly, checking behind her one last time to make sure there wasn’t a walker sneaking up behind her. Once that coast was clear she turned back to Merle, the man lying on his side in a fetal position, knocking his forehead against the ground and crying, begging for his life. Behind him was Dale’s box of tools, knocked over on its side and scattered across the rooftop. Further beyond was the door that T-dog must have locked, though the door kept banging, the hinges creaking loudly every time a walker tried to thrust its head past.

“Help me now. Show me the way,” Merle pleaded, while Sally made her way across the rooftop, crouched low to not make any more noise than Merle was making. The walkers were already overexcited, anything louder than Merle and they might break the door down sooner.

“Help me now. Show me the way,” Merle prayed, voice cracking the whole way through. “Go on, now. Tell me-- tell me what to do. ” he wheezed, voice hacking into a cough and spittle flying from his lips.

For a singular split millisecond, Sally debated on lording this over him, maybe even making him beg her to free him. Instead, she grabbed a pair of Dale’s bolt cutters from the ground, the metal scraping across the cinderblock and using them to snap the handcuffs holding Merle in place.

“Come on, Merle,” she whispered quietly, and the man looked up at her from under the metal pipes like he had just seen heaven. “Follow me.”

Chapter 8

Summary:

Sally and Merle find a place to camp out. The group gets back to the Quarry and T-dog speaks with Glenn. Daryl is told unfortunate news.

Notes:

So, this chapter was actually cut in half because it was hitting like 9k, and I just didn't want to do that. So, welcome n Rick Grimes, as well as some other characters who in the next chapter who snuck up on me! I really wasn't expecting it to happen, but you know how it goes--characters just go and do their own shit. Anyways it is almost 10PM over here and I'm going to ignore my responsibilities and make spaghetti and watch TWD instead! yay! (Also, I got some new pajamas from Target yesterday and ALL I been doing since is strutting about the house in them. So comfy. honestly, the entire day was mostly just self-care.

I don't think there are any warnings in this chapter besides it being NOT BETA-READ. So, if you see something, tell me and I'll fix it.

Thank you so much for your comments and support! It means the world to me, and it just got me kicking my feet and giggling every time. It's very motivating and whenever I get a Noti it just fires up the writing sprit and I'm out in the back hammering away at the keyboard lolol.

Okay, Enjoy! <3

Chapter Text

“Thank you, Lord. Oh, thank you, Jesus!” Merle wailed, pulling himself up to his feet and kicking at the metal tubing.

“Come on,” Sally whispered to him, trying to shush him and pulled him toward the roof access door that she had just come out of. They crashed through the door together, and only barely managed not to slam it into the wall that would make a noise loud enough to draw all the walkers their way. Sally locked it behind them, Merle being no help since he seemed to be coming down from an adrenaline high--not that Sally could blame the guy--he’d been two seconds away from giving God the middle finger and sawing off his own hand in an attempt to not be walker-food. Beyond the metal door there was a creak, and Sally was pretty sure that was the department store roof access door starting to come down from the combined walker's weight.

“Come on,” she mumbled quietly to him, keeping a hand on his bicep and leading him toward the stairs. She sure as hell didn’t need to be told twice to get her ass moving.

“You an angel, ain’t you, girl,” he choked out, following behind her quickly.

“Not even close.” she said with a shake of her head.

“Yeah, you’re my angel alright.” Merle said, ignoring her completely and going with whatever he wanted to say at the moment.

“Please don’t call me that,” Sally cringed. It was mortifying to Sally--she’d rather be called Red for the rest of her life than bloody fucking Angel . Whatever--maybe he was just on an adrenaline high. Maybe he was in shock. Maybe he was half delirious from dehydration and being out in the sun for so long. She’s sure he’ll be right back to his asshole, racist self once he got some water, food, and sleep in him.

Sally led him down the stairwell to the seventh floor that she was pretty sure at one point had been a floor full of psychologists and therapists, based on the plaques next to the doors with their names on them. Papers were strewn about across the floor, like people were in a hurry and had been packing up whatever they could before leaving.

Thunder rumbled overhead but there didn’t seem to be any lightning or rain for the moment which Sally was grateful for. Hopefully it would just be heard distantly and not directly on top of them, like Morales had said earlier in the day when they had first gotten to Atlanta. (If it stayed over them, the sound would not only excite the walkers but it would also hide the sound of any approaching walkers.)

Sally dragged Merle into the first office that she could, thanking whoever Demelza Patridge was and locking the office door once she made sure there weren’t any walkers in the room with them. Demelza had a corner office on the seventh floor which meant both the north and east pointing walls actually had large windows on them with the fancy, expensive looking wooden blinds attached to them.

As soon as she could, Sally helped Merle lay down on the buff-colored leather couch pushed under one of the windows, gently plumping a pillow under his head.

“If you wanted tah get me comfortable, all ya had to do is ask, Angel.” Merle said with a throaty chuckle and Sally seriously deliberated on how successful she would be if she tried to smother his breathing with the pillow. Unfortunately, her rate of success would be quite low--and probably get her a broken jaw, so she didn’t bother.

“Please shut up,” she muttered instead, pushing the glass coffee table out of the way and kneeling down to shuffle through her bag. Something must have really shown on her face that she wasn’t in the mood for joking around because he didn’t make a comment about her being on her knees for him.

“Drink this,” she ordered, placing one of the water bottles in his ashen colored hands. “ Slowly .”

“Yes, ma’m,” apparently, he couldn’t stop himself from joking entirely. He even tried to waggle his eyebrows at her and stick his tongue out until the pain from his burnt forehead and blistered lips likely stopped him.

Sally shook her head to herself, her sweat slicked bangs rustling with the motion and kept digging through her bag. She found some beef jerky sticks for Merle to munch on--silently opening the wrappers for him when she saw the way his hands shook. She didn’t know if they shook because of the fear from earlier and how close he came to dying--or if he had any potential nerve damage from his arm being stuck in one spot.

She pulled out her first aid kit, another water bottle, and a thing of aloe vera gel which would’ve made Merle raise his eyebrows at, if he could do it without wincing from the pain.

“You like a damn soccer mom, carryin’ all tha’ junk.” He sipped at his water, watching her from the corner of his eye.

“Is it really junk if it makes you feel better?” Sally asked quietly and pursed her lips to keep from laughing when he had no quick-witted answer for that. Yeah, that’s what I thought, she couldn’t help snarking to herself. She poured hand sanitizer over her own hands--being careful to avoid her bandages--waiting for it to dry before getting to work on him.

“Hand,” she asked, holding her palm up for him and was pleasantly surprised when he did what she asked without having a retort ready or flat out refusing to cooperate with her. Briefly, she wondered how long this Merle would last before he went back to being Asshole Merle.

Sally lobbed hand sanitizer over his palm and the back of his hand, carefully avoiding getting too close to the open wound wrapped around his wrist from pulling at the handcuff for hours on end. The blood had crusted over, a darkish red mixed with bits of grey dust and pebbles. Sally prayed that he wouldn’t get blood poisoning from this.

“I’m going to clean and disinfect it now. That will probably hurt so I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t, like, punch me in the face over this.” Sally said quietly, looking up to see Merle’s expression. She couldn’t tell if it was his neutral expression or if he was pissed off about something, but it looked a bit like Daryl’s own microexpressions whenever something in particular had gotten under his skin.

“Whatever,” he muttered, taking a swig of his water bottle like he wished it was beer instead.

Sally assumed that was more or less his consent to start, so start she did. She did her best to clean the wound of dirt and dust that had gotten stuck while the blood coagulated. She used up a good portion of her water, wetting pieces of gauze and holding it gently around his wrist with a featherlight touch. The skin was raw and inflamed but hopefully there wasn’t an infection already forming.

She did her best to disinfect it some more, packing it with antibiotic ointment after using an anesthetic spray until it had started to drip onto the carpet. She carefully wrapped his wrist with cotton gauze, before using extra to wrap up to his thumb joint and back down so it would stay in place. She topped it all off with the adhesive white tape, trying to wrap it tight enough to stay in place but not so tight it would be uncomfortable.

When she was finished, she looked up to meet Merle’s eyes, wondering if he had been watching her face the whole time.

He didn’t say anything so Sally decided it wasn’t worth it and kept quiet too. Besides, she liked the peace and quiet. She sat back on her haunches, fiddling with the aloe vera bottle until she popped the lid open and then looked up expectantly.

“Close your eyes, so I don’t accidentally get any in them,” Sally said quietly. Something flashed in Merle’s expression then and she couldn't tell if it was fear, annoyance, or genuine anger at being told what to do. He opened his mouth to say something, and she tilted her head to the side, barely keeping her growing frustration from tipping over the edge.

“ Merle .” she warned.

After another moment, he rolled his eyes and scoffed but did what she asked, nonetheless. Sally lathered the gel up in her fingers--being careful to keep it away from her own hand injury and bandages--and gently patted it on his face with her fingertips. She knew how much sun burns could hurt--had nearly gone to the hospital one time as a young girl because it had been so bad--so she knew that even if Merle wasn’t sighing in relief or showing any psychical signs, he was definitely happier after it had been applied.

After she was done, she pulled away and wiped the stickiness off her fingers, onto her jeans before dropping a dollop of hand sanitizer in her palm again.

“Go to sleep,” she said, pulling a gentle green throw blanket off the side of the couch and laying it over the man, “I’ll take the first watch.”

That seemed to wake Merle up from whatever he’d been daydreaming about.

“Place is crawlin’ with geeks--aint gonna stay here no more--” he started to say, sitting up from his spot.

“It’s not a good idea to go out right now. It’s getting dark out and geeks are more active at night. We’ve both had a long day--we’re both exhausted so just…just go to sleep and we’ll trek out in the morning, alright?” Sally compromised, rubbing her forehead with the non-injured hand.

For a moment he didn't say anything, lips twisted up in a grimace, his lower jaw jutting forward like he was grinding his teeth together in frustration.

“They’re going to come back for us,” Sally said quietly while gathering up trash that came from fixing him up and tossing it in the corner trash can.

“Ain’t nobody comin’," he sneered, "Officer Friendly handcuffed me to a damn roof--an’ you’re lil Chinaman boyfriend left you here--they don’t want either of us comin’ back.” Merle spat out vehemently.

“He’s my friend and he’s Korean .” Sally whispered back, her lip curling up in instant irritation. “And they will be coming back for us, so you can sit tight and in the morning we’ll see who’s right.” She wiped a hand down her face, pursing her lips in aggravation. Just when she thought she could deal with him--he goes and says asshole shit like that.

He scoffed, tossing his head back and looking down at her like she was a cockroach he was thinking about stepping on. Merle, however, kicked his feet up on the couch, his dusted shoes resting on the couch’s arm.

“I ain’t givin’ the couch up, then,” Merle said with raised brows, like that was somehow an adequate punishment for not wanting to go walking around while at dusk in a city full of the walking dead.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sally replied, before moving from the floor and onto the shrink chair behind the coffee table, tucking her feet underneath her. She was in for a long night. At least her cargo would be well protected until morning when she could go and check on it.

Glenn POV

With the car alarm ripped out by Shane, Glenn was left to answer questions from Amy about her sister, as well as questions from Dale and Shane about how the run went.

He answered what he could, turning to look at the truck that Rick had found as it pulled up to the Quarry, behind Sally’s truck. The car ride was fun , leaving Glenn exhilarated and jubilant after a stressful half day in Atlanta.

Rick was one of the last to get out of the truck, having a movie-like reunion with his wife and son that some people stopped what they were doing to watch and smile kindly at. Morales had a similar reunion with his family, his wife patting his face and arms worriedly and his two children already asking to be picked up and spun around by him.

T-dog had popped out of the back of the truck and made a bee-line for Glenn that had him glancing over in concern.

“What’s up?” Glenn asked, temporarily forgetting about the sick car ride he just had, in favor of how T-dog looked somewhere in between wanting to barf and needing to sit down. “You good?”

“Was Sally with you?” T-dog asked, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm over his jeans.

Glen frowned, confused. “What? No. No.” He shook his head, raising a hand to push his ball cap back. “Last I saw her, she was with you.”

But T-dog was already licking his lips, shaking his head back and forth. “Nah, man--Sally dipped the moment we got into the city--thought she was hitting wherever you guys went last time.”

“Last time?” Glenn repeated, his face scrunching up in thought. “I only took Sally on a run once. And that was a gas station off the highway--not to Atlanta .” He then took off for the moving truck, carefully moving around the reuniting families and checking the inside of the truck, even though he knew she wouldn’t be in there, T-dog wasn’t the type of person to joke about that, but still Glenn had to check with his own eyes.

Sally wasn’t in the truck. It was just bags of supplies that had yet to be unpacked and divided up. Sally wasn’t in the truck--she wasn’t at camp.

“Do you think she went back for Merle?” Glenn asked, trying to remember everything that happened. The last person to talk to her was likely Merle since she had sat next to him--not to mention whatever she had going on with Daryl, always hanging around him when she could.

(And Glenn had no idea what she saw in the guy. Sure, he wasn’t an overt asshole like Merle was, but he glared at all of them like he couldn’t stand them just like Merle did.)

“Dunno, man,” T-dog muttered from next to Glenn, one hand up to his face and gently prodding the injuries that Merle’s fist gave him. “Don’t see how she could’ve--she wasn’t even there when all that shit happened anyway.”

“Do you think she’s--” T-dog started hesitantly.

“ No .” Glenn said firmly, the sound overtly stern, even to his own ears. “No--it’s Sally. She’s the one who’s always going on about getting more shit and not leaving so early. She’s--she’s probably gonna come back with a whole hospital stuffed inside a semi-truck and be annoyed that she couldn’t drive two semi’s at once.”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right,” T-dog agreed but he sounded unconvinced. “Probably gonna come back and start a fight with Shane about it too.”

But Sally didn’t come back. An hour passed, and then another passed, and soon enough it was dark out and even though Glenn was worried about his friend--he knew that trying to find her in the dark wouldn’t help anyone. But it was Rick who convinced him to stay until Daryl got back from his hunt in the morning--that way they could all go together; grab Sally, pick up the gun bag and get Merle off the roof.

Daryl POV

Daryl’s morning started off good.

He woke up early, had a deer in sight he was gonna track--bring it back to camp, cook up some venison. He checked his traps--caught eight squirrels, he was real happy about that.

And then on his way to camp he took the long way--Merle called it the scenic route, but Merle didn’t know shit most times, he just acted like he did. Daryl didn’t really know why he did it, sure as hell wasn’t efficient most days. But then there was that redhead college girl, Sally, sitting in the back of her truck (Daryl silently agreed with some of the guys who said it wasn’t hers, but he wasn't gonna say anything out loud about it. What did he care if she looted or stole it--half the people at the camp done did the same thing when evacuations started) kicking her feet up and writing in that composition book of hers.

Girl was always writing in that damn thing, Daryl noticed early on. And Daryl was good at noticing shit. His elementary teacher called it ‘ being observant ’, and she wrote that down in his report card every time.

He thought about greeting her but throwing the squirrels was a better choice. Direct and to the point--nobody could ever say that Daryl was a time waster.

And then she looked up at him like he told her he shot her dog. The hell?

So he mumbled something about her liking squirrels cause that what she said when one of the younger ones scampered into camp the other week, poking around the campfire to steal mushrooms that someone gathered. Called ‘em cute --talked some shit about petting them. Not like she’d ever be able to pet a live one, slinky little bastards they were. But Daryl figured she could still pet a freshly dead one--before he skinned them and cooked them up of course.

But that didn’t seem like the right thing to say either cause she was looking at him like he was a bozo and that was irritating.

Alright so she didn’t like the thought. Whatever. He’d just leave, go do his own thing--he could already hear Merle laughing his head off about the whole thing. “ Try doin’ somethin’ nice for them entitled pansies an’ look where it got you, hah !”

Then Sally said something about being vegetarian.

And Daryl ain't ever met a vegetarian before. Closest he ever came to it was when one of Merle’s asshole marine friends needed to do a colonoscopy one time and wasn’t allowed to eat.

Vegetarian. Huh. Merle liked to call them hypocritical assholes and that would set him off on political rants but Daryl had learned early on how to tune Merle’s rants out.

Then she says shit about not knowing how to cook them--well, yeah, no shit. Why the hell would he expect an entitled, ball-busting, spoiled rich girl from California to know how to skin a squirrel? See, she just did and said things that made no damn sense sometimes.

“Come on, I’ll show ya,” he told her, once he figured out that she wanted him to teach her. Daryl doesn’t know why she didn’t just say that in the first damn place.

Then Merle had to slither in and do what Merle did best; open his mouth. Daryl kept quiet, cause it was Merle and he would get bored and wander off soon enough--not something that Daryl needed to spend his energy on. But for whatever reason, Sally--and the other people at camp--didn’t seem to get that.

Like calling Merle out for being racist or shit--Sally loved doing that. Merle said it was her way of flirting with him but Daryl didn’t think so. When girls flirted they got all giggly and shit--and none of the girls or women at camp got giggly around Merle. Definitely not Sally. But what Daryl couldn’t figure out was why Sally got so annoyed whenever Merle was around--especially since he was better behaved in camp then he’d have been if they were back home in the backwoods with their people.

Playing nice, was what Merle had called it. Play nice with the entitled pansy-ass democrats until they turned their backs, lowered their guard. Merle wanted to steal the guns from them in the dead of night and be long gone in the morning by the time they all woke up and figured it out.

Sometimes Daryl wondered if Sally knew that’s what Merle wanted to do. With the way she was always staring him down.

She aint ever looked at Daryl like that though and he couldn’t figure out why, cause he was just as white trash as Merle was. Hell, she smiled at him. Ever since the first day they looked at each other, she’d always find him somewhere around the camp and smile warmly before going back to whoever she was talking to.

And the whole geek shit she got going on. Asking Daryl to all but put on one of them fancy white lab coats and conduct experiments on the poxy bastards. And he did them, was the surprising part. Showing her areas in the woods where they got trapped, walking her to the damn things like he was some kinda somebody with a presence. Making him feel like he was someone important. She asked for his input, even. Telling him shit she thinks about them--going off on little rants about diversions and tactics acting like they were a bigger problem than they actually were. (He wouldn’t ever admit to liking her rants--but they sure were a hell of a lot better than fucking Merle Dixon’s rants.)

Merle and Daryl had two ways of dealing with geeks and those were being faster than them and shooting ‘em in the head. Done and done, simple as that. But Sally had to go and make shit complicated.

Then she left for that supply run after saying some bullshit about friends or whatever. Didn’t much matter to Daryl, he ain't ever had a friend--didn’t ever need one and aint ever going to need one. That had been last night though and Daryl had spent his time trekking through the woods on a hunt, hoping to bring something back to the camp.

Merle and Sally would’ve gotten back with the others the day before--Merle would probably be sleeping off his latest high and in a good enough mood to help Daryl cook up some venison. And Sally did decently enough her first time skinning the squirrels, so she’d probably want to learn skinning a deer too. Daryl could probably do that (definitely keep her away from the good parts though, till her knife skills were better).

He had tracked that deer for a damn long time, trekking through the forest growth with leaves slapping him in the face every so often. Put down a couple geeks even. Sumbitches could have given Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum a run for their money--fuck what Sally said about some of them having enough intelligence to open doors and climb shit. Every geek Daryl came across only knew how to do two things: groan and feed.

And then Daryl’s morning steadily took a nosedive off the tallest tower it could find.

“We’re not sure.” Shane said. The hell did that mean? How did they not know if someone was dead--ain’t exactly fucking rocket science, now was it?

“He either is or he ain’t!” Daryl snapped, circling the center of the camp. He was getting agitated. All of them--all the others in the camp were just standing round with their blank faces, watching him. Waiting for something, a reaction or some shit.

Then some rando comes walking up, talking his smack, all while in his pristine white t-shirt, looking like he was gone go mow the lawn.

“Who’re you?” Daryl asked and he could see them seizing him up in the corner of his eye so, hell, he started doing the same thing too.

“Rick Grimes.” The man answered, and Daryl looked over in the Korean boy’s ( “His name is Glenn,” Sally already told him that) direction. Had to be another stray that Glenn picked up, just like when he picked up Sally and brought her into camp.

And then the asshole admitted to handcuffing his brother to a roof --and then leaving him there to rot with all the other rotting geeks in the fucking city. So, yeah , Daryl did try to go after the asshole who left Merle to die, and he would’ve gotten a good couple punches in except for Shane putting him in a damn chokehold and meanwhile everyone’s still just watching . He’d like to see any of them be told their brother just got left behind in a city full of dead cannibals--see how they react to that.

Assholes. Bunch of no-good assholes , the whole lot of them were and it pissed Daryl off cause that meant some part of Merle’s rants about them being a buncha hypocrites was right--but right now Merle’s gone. And this time he ain't even gone cause he’s off doing another juvie stint or running away to join the army (as if some fucking army would start caring about him more than family ) but cause he could be dying on a rooftop somewhere.

One thing that rubbed him the wrong way though--was why the hell did Shane start the discussion as they called it--why not Sally. At least Sally talked to Daryl everyday, even if half the shit was about her dumb geek projects. He was more familiar with her and they all knew that.

Another look around the camp and he don’t see her red hair flouncing about the place. She wasn’t by her truck. Weren’t with Amy cause Amy was standing with her older sister, and she wasn’t with T-dog or Glenn, so where the hell was she? Why wasn’t she the one telling him this--’specially since she’s the one who went on the damn run with Merle and the others.

“Sally!” Daryl barked, cause now he got more questions about what went down and if he had to deal with that clean-faced Rick Grimes again it wasn’t gonna be pretty. “Get yer ass out here, Sally!”

But there was no answer from her--that Korean boy, Glenn, flinched at her name. And so did T-dog. “You cuff her to a roof too, huh?” Daryl asked.

“She,” Glenn started to say, backing up when Daryl rounded on him next. “We don’t know where she went--”

“You couldn’t find her?” Daryl spat. So, this was how a good morning went to shit, huh. Now he had two people to go looking for in the middle of a dead infested city.

“She split off from the group--we-- I --don’t know where she went.” Glenn apologized, facial expression crumbling.

“Hell with all y’all!” Daryl yelled, swiping his hand around at all of them. To hell with all these assholes--Merle was right, they didn’t care about them, they couldn’t care less. “Just tell me where they are--so’s I can go get ‘em.” Once he found Merle then they could find Sally together. She was smart--all the shit she was doing with Daryl, learning about the geeks.

She’d probably be holed up in a closet somewhere nearby whatever department store they looted till Daryl came looking for her.

“He’ll show you,” Lori cut in, speaking with a stern but gentle drawl, standing with her arms crossed on the steps of the Winnebago. “Help you find your brother and Sally--isn’t that right?” she directed toward Rick, something flashing through her eyes at the man.

Daryl didn’t give a shit about whatever secret conversation they were having--he just wanted to go .

Then of course, Glenn and T-dog volunteer to go with, almost at the same time, before looking at each other, acting like they were surprised or sumthing. Whatever. They were Sally’s friends--they aint his--he didn’t give a shit what they did.

And then of course, because those two were coming that meant Rick Grimes was coming too. Hell with them. Daryl’ll go get his brother, go get Sally too and then Merle can take the gun bag and they’ll be on their way. Don’t have to bother with any of them again.

It’s on the way to Atlanta that Daryl briefly thought about Sally packing up her truck (not like she was liked much by a lot of the camp either) and going on the road with them, before he scoffed at the idea. That was that wishful thinking, fairytale bullshit.

Nah. They were better off on their own. Sally would understand.

Chapter 9

Summary:

Sally retrieves a bag. Merle has questions and Sally kinda-sorta has answers. They're getting out of Atlanta and Merle finally gets to see what Sally stayed behind for.

Notes:

HELLO THERE! Finals are over, and I spent the last two days doing nothing but recovering and sleeping. I have one grade out, still waiting on the rest as of updating this but I'm hoping for all A's (minus one B). I love retail/selfcare therapy, so you know the second we were done I got myself a French manicure, a brow and lip wax, some delicious mac n cheese, and multiple refresher drinks because I live off of them practically.

Anyways. The plans for winter break are updating this as much as I can, gaslighting myself into liking the treadmill for health benefits, and getting a head start on Spring Semester's book list so I'm not drowning nearly as much as I was this semester.

QUESTION: What do y'all have planned for Winter Break (and if you're not on break then still tell me what you're planning on doing)?

CHAPTER UPDATE: As a double thank you to y'all this is (last I checked) a 9k chapter! Yay! I hope it hits the spot, since I've been MIA for like a week and a half. I have some of the next chapter written--mostly just an outline but ya know.

PSA: just a reminder, this is unbeta-ed and I can only reread my own writing before my eyeballs start to bleed, so if you see something incorrect, holler at me and I'll fix it!

Anyways, I have some food to eat, some TWD to rewatch and enjoy, and a bed that is calling my name again lol. THANK YOU again so much, y'all's comments and love make my day and they got me through finals weeks. <3 <3 <3 <3

Enjoy! <3

Chapter Text

Sleep was fitful that night. Her mind kept anxiously going back to the cargo she had hastily hidden before bolting back to the department store when she stopped hearing the shooting. It should be good through the night; she had boarded the doors up pretty well--but that still didn’t stop her from worrying about it.

Not only that but she was constantly woken up by anxious nightmares where Merle would take her bug-out-bag and dip while she was none the wiser, leaving her at the mercy of walkers. So, no, she was not having a fun time. She missed her fucking bed, she missed not having to sleep in a stupid city that smelled of rot and decay and she missed her gossip sessions with Amy, her conversations with T-dog, her morning supply planning with Glenn and her afternoon walks with Daryl.

Several times throughout the night Sally had to stop herself from picking at her cuticles or chewing on her nails from the stress. (One because she found the habit to be disgusting, and two because she didn’t even want to think about how much gunk might be under her fingernails--even with the gloves she had worn at times). All she could do was look at her overgrown French manicure in disdain--she’d have to ask Amy about a nail sesh when they got back to camp because if there was one thing Sally was not giving up (zombie apocalypse be damned), then it would be her semi-regular mani-pedi’s. So, what if it wasn’t essential or whatever other dumb shit Shane or anybody else said about it--it made her still feel like herself , made her still feel like she was a human and hadn’t just been catapulted into the neolithic era.

Soon enough, early morning rays of light had come through the wooden blinds, peppering the opposite wall and glass coffee table. The light hitting the glass made it sparkle in places, sending little iridescent dots up on the ceiling and for one moment, Sally was breathless by the beauty of it.

Yeah, she’d woken up to a zombie apocalypse and it wasn’t the best. But at least people found her (however annoying some of them were) and she was grateful for that. At least she knew where she was now—which was leagues better than the first week she had been here. She had a truck; she still had a motherfucking bed . That was way more than most people had at the moment.

Then the moment of beauty crashed and burned because Merle turned over on his side and promptly upchucked everything in his stomach.

“Oh, dude ,” Sally winced, turning away from the scene and staring out the window instead.

At least she had used her backpack as a pillow. If she had left it on the floor, it would’ve been filled with Merle’s vomit. There might even be bits floating—

No. Nope. Just no. Delete that thought.

“Sleep well?” She asked once he had paused and blearily sat himself up.

“Fuck you,” he snapped at her, only one eye open, the other crusted with sleep still.

Sally raised her brow at the comment but otherwise went back to looking out the window while she untucked her legs, moving them an inch at a time. It hurt like hell, pins and needles going up her legs from the tops of her toes to her mid thighs. She thinks her ankles cracked a couple times, but she didn’t linger long on the thought.

“Ol’ ass lady,” Merle scoffed quietly, watching her try to un-pretzel herself, eyes overflowing with disdain.

“Can't imagine what that makes you then.” Sally groaned, finally pulling her legs out enough for her feet to touch the floor. She assumed they were touching the floor. She couldn’t actually tell though because she still couldn’t feel anything besides the shooting pain of her legs being asleep.

“Ya got any--” Merle doesn’t finish his sentence because soon he’s leaning over the edge of the couch again, vomiting clear liquid because there’s nothing left in his stomach anymore.

“ Jesus , fuck,” Sally jumped back in shock, watching the man's shoulders tremble from trying to hold himself over the side. Quickly, Sally looked around the office, spying an office trash can and running for it. She got it under Merle just in time for the next vomiting session that wracked his frame. “Let me see your hand--Merle give me your hand!” She squeaked, pulling at the bandages around the deep cut around his wrist but she didn’t see any lines traveling up so it couldn’t be from blood poisoning.

Merle didn’t need her to hold his hair back for him while he puked so Sally stepped back, leaning against the wall and rubbing her mouth with her fingers in thought. What the fuck was causing him to vomit? Had this happened originally or was this a butterfly effect of her being with him? She almost thought maybe she gave him some kind of trans-interdimensional virus, but she didn’t wake up in her body, she woke up in someone else’s who just had the same name as her. Not to mention, if such a thing were to happen then T-dog and Glenn would’ve been showing signs first since she met them first and hung out with them far more often.

Maybe the sun, then? Sally thought he had just been sunburnt, but could it instead be sun poisoning? She heard of severe cases causing vomiting. But he didn’t have any rashes that came with sun poisoning. She mentally reviewed everything she knew about Merle, eyes straying back to his wrist she had bandaged the night before. It reminded her of the highway scene where T-dog slices his arm open on accident and the only thing that help is Merle’s prescription bag--

Merle’s drug bag.

Because he was doing fucking meth before the end of the world. If Sally tried to do the math in her head--his last fix would’ve been a day ago. Fuck! Why didn’t she remember this sooner? She had originally used his high time as an in with Daryl to hang out with him more! How the fuck did she help a man going through withdrawal symptoms from meth? Fucking meth !

Just keep him hydrated, baby, her mother’s voice came to her in a memory. Years ago, when her uncle had gone through an incredibly difficult and painful surgery, and he’d gotten addicted to the pain pills they had put him on. Keep him hydrated, okay, she could do that. She still had two water bottles left--not to mention the eighth-floor food lab above them where she might find some water.

“Thanks, Mom,” Sally whispered to herself, viciously pulling things out of her bag until she had all the food and water laid out in front of her. She kept a pack of cheese and crackers for herself just so she wouldn’t be running on fumes and started working on getting the rest to Merle. She wasn’t worried about going hungry--eventually Daryl would come looking for his brother and T-dog, Glenn, and Rick would be coming along with, for the bag of guns he left behind. She didn’t think it would be much longer--maybe a couple hours at the most since it was still early morning.

And if they didn’t--for whatever godforsaken reason that she didn’t want to think about until the time came--then she could go back to the apartment she found, scavenge the rest of the food in the pantry and cupboards and come back. Or she might even be able to take Merle with her if he was okay to stand at that point. They’d be fine--and if he was too weak to take the ladder escape then she could throw the poncho on him and stumble their way through the alleys.

“Merle, I need you to drink, okay? You need to stay hydrated.” Sally whispered to the old redneck, in the moments after he had stopped throwing up so much.

“Fuck you, ya damn cunt,” Merle cursed, but his eyes had a glaze-like quality to them that worried Sally. Realistically she knew that he would be okay--after all he’d originally amputated his own fucking hand and had been lucid enough at some point to steal the truck that Rick came back with. But sometime after that he (most likely) had been caught by the governor and taken to Woodbury to be the psychopath’s right-hand man. And that was something that Sally didn’t want to deal with whatso - fucking-ever . “Prissy dumb bitch--thinks you’s all tha’, huh?”

Merle continued to mumble to himself, slurring his words at times, in between sips of water and food. After he finished off a water bottle, as well as three Slim Jim’s he appeared more lucid and aware of reality. But what worried Sally was the sweat he was cooking up. It wasn’t unusual of course, it was summer in the middle of fucking Atlanta, Georgia, Sally wasn’t at her most pristine either.

But Merle was shivering while sweating. And Sally didn’t know what to do, besides covering him up with the throw blanket and stuffing the decorative throw pillows between the couch and his back so he was laying on his side in case he started throwing up again. She rubbed a hand down her face, considering what her next move should be. Originally, she was just going to have them stay put right there, wait for the boys to amble along in search of Merle and the gun bag, play the little game of meeting the old people and letting Glenn get “kidnapped”. But that was before she realized Merle was going through withdrawals.

But maybe one of the most important reasons to her was that she didn’t want the governor getting his hands on Merle and twisting him into a darker person. Merle could be an asset to them if she put a little work in and WD-40 in some of the rusty hinges. So could Shane, really--as much as she couldn’t even stand looking at him. They were strong, fast, good fighters and even better shooters. She’d rather have them on the team compared to Dale who constantly had to whine about not “losing their humanity”, or even Hershel who was so up on his high horse at the moment, he thought keeping walkers in a barn and fucking feeding them was a good idea.

“Merle, I’m going out--I’ll be right back so just stay here.” She murmured to the man, but he had already dozed off after cussing her out a third time. But just to be on the safe side--since she would be leaving her bag and most of her stuff there--she wrote him a note using supplies from the office desk sitting in the corner. She propped the note up against his water bottle, so if he did wake up before she got back then he would know that she didn’t just leave him.

Once that was done, she went rooting through her bag for the large poncho she had packed, as well as a pair of kitchen gloves still in the wrapper that she had nagged the day previous when the Atlanta group had first gotten to the department store. She left Dale's bolt cutters on the coffee table for him as well, so that he had at least some kind of improvised weapon on him should any walkers get into the office (because like hell would she be leaving him her only knife and weapon). She didn’t think there would be any--but she blocked off the office door from the inside with the large shrink-looking chair she had slept in the night before, just to be on the safe side.

“Okay,” Sally murmured to herself, “time to hop to it.” She gagged, lip curling up in disgust while she tried to hype herself up enough to roll her poncho in a dead walker's stomach.

“Just like a chinchilla,” she continued, the picture of a chinchilla giving itself a dust bath popping up in her head.

“Just like a chinchilla ,” Sally repeated to herself, while crouching over the walker, rolling the poncho into a ball and shoving it back and forth so all the gunk could get on it. All she could think about was how grateful she was to her past self, picking out a pair of kitchen gloves before everything went to shit--because trust that it did and well, truly go to shit.

She had to move onto a second walker because the first didn’t have enough guts for her, unfortunately. So that left her sitting next to the second walker, rolling the poncho around like it was just a casual Saturday afternoon and she was kneading bread.

“Come on and step up folks--get your walker-flavored bread here,” she tried to joke to herself but only succeeded in making her stomach turn uneasily. At some point she deemed it soaked enough, tossing it over her head and being careful to lower the hood over her face so nothing dropped into her eyes.

It was a short walk up the stairwell to get from the seventh floor to the eighth floor where the food lab was. She ignored the lab, going for the roof access door and sliding the poncho hood off so she could rest her head against the door and listen for the sounds of walkers shuffling around. Her skin smooshed against the door in a gross manner, and she didn’t even want to think about how many germs were on the door. Whatever. She had other things to do at the moment.

A moment of quiet and then there’s a distant sound of shuffling, and some light groaning. So there were still some walkers up there.

Carefully, she unlocks the door, a small click ringing out that has Sally steeling herself for something to slam up against the door (like Andrea had had happened to her inside the Winnebago bathroom on the highway). But when nothing came, she worked on opening the door inch by inch until she could poke just enough of her head out to get a look.

Outside the door were three walkers ambling around, none of them paying any particular attention to her. Quickly, she pushed herself out the door before she could lose her nerve and found herself mimicking the gait of the closest walker to her.

With her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest, Sally stumbled forward by dragging her toes along the ground and drooping one of her shoulders, so it was lower than the other.

So far so good.

She ambled forward, trying to match her pace with theirs and feeling much like there was an invisible toddler she was walking with, that's how slow it felt. She passed by the first one without a problem--it was too busy staring at the wall to pay her any attention. The second one glanced her way briefly before looking away again. Sally bit her lip hard enough to hurt, so that she didn’t accidentally do or say anything that would get her killed.

She stuck near the side of the roof--firstly so she had them all on one side of her and secondly so that if they started coming for her, she had the chance to push them off the roof instead of getting bogged down by them and their greedy hands.

The third one stumbled by her again, knocking into her shoulder before stopping and staring at her, groaning quietly.

She groaned back, trying to copy the pitch though hers was breathier, the growl breaking in places because it wasn’t loud enough. She took another step forward, moving past the walker, careful to keep it in her view. It didn’t follow her, but it certainly didn’t walk away either. Instead, it just stood there, its clouded eyes seeming to stare right through her. Almost as soon as her fingers brushed against the department’s roof door, the walker stepped forward, pacing toward her quicker than before and Sally gripped her knife tight in her hand, moving back to put more distance between them so she could bring her knife down on its head.

The sound alerted the two other walks on the roof, their heads tipping to the sound and their growls growing louder, pacing toward her. Sally stabbed the knife down again on the walker, blood spraying over her face. The walker dropped dead at her feet, the other two already upon her.

She inhaled hard, spit caught in her throat, and she strong armed the closest walker to the side of the roof. Its jaws opened and closed, rotting breath fanning over her face so disgusting it made her eyes water. With a shove she pushed the thing over the side of the building then ducked to the side when the other one tried to pull her down. The walker tripped over the metal piping, body tumbling and forehead smacking into the side wall. She jerked forehead, keeping a hand on the top of its head, her fingernails tugging on limp blonde hair that came out in clumps while she jammed the knife into the base of its skull.

Its body goes limp, arms no longer flailing about and silence consuming the roof once more. Sally tipped her head back, giving herself a minute to breathe. Some odd deep breaths later, she kneeled down to roll the walker over, jiggling the handle of her seven-inch blade to get it unstuck. The tip scraped against the front of its skull before she ripped it out.

She definitely needed more blood. She didn’t have near enough blood on her if just a single walker on a roof could sus her out that fast.

She made quick work of pulling up its shirt to its collarbones and steadied her knife against its midsection, a long horizontal line from the left to the right side, then another line--this time vertical--from the bottom of the sternum to where it's jeans were slung across the hips. The smell was fucking disgusting, weeks old rotting organs spilling out from the opening.

Even though Sally had finished off her water bottle and the cheesy crackers when she woke up, she vomited it back up, the liquid landing on the other side of the walker and thankfully not in the walker. Sally already knew she wasn’t mentally prepared to wipe walker blood and her own vomit onto her face and jeans. Luckily though, she didn’t have too. (And to be completely honest, she didn’t know if that was ever something she would be mentally prepared for).

She still had the kitchen gloves on, so she made quick work of scooping out blood, sinew, and rotten chunks of meat out of the walker’s stomach and dragging it up and down her thighs and shins. She didn’t know if she should be happy if it wasn't warm or not.

“Skincare Gods above, please forgive me for the atrocious sin I am about to commit,” Sally whimpered before dragging the wet latex gloves down her face. Droplets of walker-blood dripped down from her chin, landing on her poncho. She gagged harshly, whipping forward to steady herself before she fell onto the walker.

If I break out from this, I might just kill someone, she grumbled to herself bitterly. Yet the deed was done and she walked quietly down the eight levels of the department store building until she was on the ground level.

This time none of the walkers seemed to even notice her.

She ambled to the back door, a task that took minutes when it could’ve taken seconds but she wasn’t nearly arrogant enough to believe she could take on the dozen or so walkers loitering around the store yet--especially when all their attention would be on her.

It took two minutes of her loitering around the door--since she had quickly learned her mistake from the first walker that morning--before all the walkers were looking in a different direction she sneaked in through the door.

Across the room lay a rotting walker's body, as well as some PPE facial masks that Glenn and them must’ve used the other day so that Rick and Glenn could cross the walker infested street. Without another thought, Sally took one of the PPE masks over to the body, scooped as much blood onto the plastic screen as it could hold before going back to the employee door and writing a quick message on it.

DARYL

7F MERLE W/

-SALLY

She hoped that was good enough as a message. She didn’t think Daryl and co would be coming by until later in the morning but on the off chance that they did come early and she was still out trying to nab Rick’s gun bag, she wanted Daryl to be able to find his brother. But she also didn’t want any of the unfriendly sort to just walk right up while Merle could potentially be in a compromising position or vomiting or passed out.

With that out of the way she ambled silently back through the store, acting like just another one of the walkers.

The store was in disarray with signs, clothes, and even some of the hanging rods knocked over on their sides. The only positive thing about walking so slowly was that Sally could be extra careful where she stepped since the last thing she wanted to deal with was tripping and getting two knees full of shattered glass. She grabbed a couple necklaces when she walked by the jewelry stands and stuffed them in her pockets for later use.

In front of the store were multiple walkers, limping up and down the street. Sally could see the bag out of the corner of her eye, as well as Carl’s future little deputy hat--definitely couldn’t leave that behind.

The bag was half hidden behind the tank which was a block away from her current position. Slowly she worked her way down the street, and all she could think of was that if she could walk normally it would have taken her two minutes to get from one end to the other. But because she had to act like a walker, limping and growling and shuffling her feet over the sidewalk, it took nearly twenty minutes alone, just to get close to the bag.

She must have looked like the world's biggest idiot, shuffling around the bag in slow circles, to make sure that there were no walkers that would come up behind her--and to make sure none of them had a line of sight on her for what she was about to do next.

She doesn’t know how many times she shuffled around doing jack, shit, and squat, but during it she felt an uncomfortable amount of respect swell up in her for the Whisperers, because this shit? Not for the faint of heart. Not for the faint of heart at fucking all. The only thing making her happy at the moment was the knowledge that eventually, she would be back at the camp--she’d get to wash all the gunk and shit off her and then she was crawling into her truck's bed and not getting up for at least a day.

After what felt like ages, Sally felt safe enough to dig into her pockets for the necklaces, filling her palm with them and after one last look around her sides and behind her back--she threw them as far as she could. The necklaces flew in the air, one hitting a pole across the street and the others smacking into the side of a building. They broke upon impact, smaller pieces falling to the ground and the small sound--as well as the swaying bits of necklaces on the pole--collected the walkers’ attention on the street. They groaned louder, limping over to investigate the noise.

“ Fuck,” Sally hissed to herself, nearly pulling her arm out of its socket when she went to swing the bag of guns up and into her arms. Something in her elbow popped at the struggle and she just knew that was going to feel like a bitch-and-a-half later, especially since she couldn't exactly ice it anymore.

How in the world did Rick just pull it up like he did? The bag had to be at least eighty pounds! And he was tossing that shit around like it was some dainty little sequined handbag. Sally hadn’t even technically met the man yet and she was bitterly impressed. Was it Main Character logic? Was it because he was a man?

She needed to think of something quick though, because soon the walkers would lose interest when they realize it’s not food that made the noise and Sally wanted to be halfway down the street when that happened.

She checked around her one more time--thankfully no walkers behind her--before she squatted how she learned in high school gym class and tried not to breathe too loudly when she lifted the bag up on her third try. She looped it over one shoulder, grabbed the stupid hat in her free hand and started limping to cover as much distance as possible before the walkers turned back around.

Sally made it ten-- maybe fifteen feet--before she had to slow down and leaned forward so that her back could take some of the weight instead of just her one shoulder that was absolutely going to bruise after this.

Make that two days in bed. At the very least .

Her body trembled from the accumulated pain, stress, and pure fucking exhaustion she had been put through. She didn’t even notice she had started crying until her eyesight was blurry and she couldn’t wipe it away because she didn't want to get walker-blood in her eyes. She missed her mom. She wanted a bath. She wanted to be laying on the couch listening to the crackle of a campfire while drifting off for her afternoon nap. She wanted an iced latte like a motherfucker.

Instead she had to put one foot in front of the other, the gun bag swaying unevenly across her back. There were ammo packs--at least she thinks that's what it was--digging into her back uncomfortably that she has no doubt it will also bruise. A regular five-minute task in the normal world--walk down street block, grab bag from ground, walk back up street block--took almost an hour . And she still had eight flights of stairs to go until she hit the top of the roof where they had originally chained Merle.

By the time she made it back to the department store and through the stairwell, she dropped the bag off her shoulder and nearly collapsed against the cold stairs. She leaned her forehead against the metal staircase, taking any comfort that she could from the cooling metal against her sweaty skin.

Never again. Never again was she doing this shit. Carrying a heavy-ass bag all the way back to the roof. Stupid fucking Rick. What kind of idiot goes clip-clop-clopping into a city when someone already told you the dead are attracted to noise. She was going to punch him. Sally was definitely going to punch him.

After she bathed and slept-- three days. After she took care of herself and slept it off for three days, she was going to punch Rick Grimes in his stupid face.

Once Sally could breathe normally again, and her heart wasn’t threatening to fall out of her mouth, she carefully stood back up to go into the store for the belt aisle she had seen on her way through the first time. She must have grabbed about six of them while hiding from the walkers in the store and then darting back to the stairwell when she could.

Respect to the Whisperer’s but she did not have the stamina to do that shit again and still go up the stairs.

She took the time for a breather, sitting on the bottom steps of the stairwell and looped a belt through the gun bag’s straps before buckling the belt. Then she did the same thing with the other five belts, creating a ring chain with them and belting the last one around her waist.

Each step was torture, every movement made her want to set the damn guns on fire. The only sound in the stairwell was the ammo jostling around and Sally dying from exhaustion. Fuck taking a sponge bath when they got back, Sally was seriously considering jumping into the Quarry lake. ‘Potential cross-contamination’--Shane could go fuck himself, Sally was dealing with swamp-ass at the moment for the exertion she was putting herself through. And for what? For a bunch of idiots?

It was pure spite that got Sally up the eight flights of stairs while dragging an eighty-something-pound bag of guns and ammo behind her. She had never unbuckled a belt so fast in her life then, dropping the offensive piece of clothing off of her and kicking it away for good measure.

She exhaled deep, something in her stomach twitched at the feeling, and she fell to her ass sitting on the gravely rooftop and just wanting to stare at nothing for a little while.

It was just when she was getting back on her feet (she still had to go back to Merle and check up on him after all) when she thought she heard something.

“Huh?” Sally blinked, looking around the rooftop, but no—she definitely heard something.

Then it happened again—a buzzing sound of some sort before it cut off.

It came from the bag.

Sally frowned to herself, dipping her head down to rest on her knees and unzipped the bag to shuffle around in it. (If she had heard a squeaking noise then she wouldn’t have touched it—the possibility of there being a rodent would have had her leaving the bag, guns be damned. But it wasn’t a squeak—it was a buzz. )

Then it buzzed again, slightly louder since she had the bag open, and she pulled out a walkie talkie with a long antenna attached to it.

The walkie talkie Rick gave to Morgan.

Sally fiddled with it a little before pressing down on the button she thought was the correct one.

“Hello?” No answer. “Hello? Is anyone there?” Well, now she sounded like some idiot in a horror movie. “Do you need help?” She tried again. “Hello?”

Just when Sally thought nothing would come out of it again, she heard static.

“Hello?!” Sally hissed into the walkie, pulling her thumb off the button. She waited a couple more minutes, but not a single sound came from the walkie talkie again. She didn’t know if Morgan didn’t feel like talking because he heard someone else's voice instead of Rick’s, or if the distance was too far between them and the signal kept getting cut.

Regardless of the reason, all it did was light a fire under Sally’s ass to get her moving. She could whine, bitch, moan, and complain to her heart's content-- after they got the fuck out of Atlanta.

She shoved the gun bag underneath the metal tubing that Rick had handcuffed Merle to the day earlier and looked around for all of Dale’s tools that had gotten knocked over and kicked around when the Atlanta group had skedaddled after Rick and Merle started shooting off guns. She wasn’t entirely sure if she had gotten everything of his--but Sally had picked up everything she could see and squirreled the tool box next to the gun bag.

Her back and shoulders nearly cried in relief from no longer having to carry the damn bag around, although it did crack several times when she went to stand up straight and stretch.

Originally her plan was to get the shit up to the roof, change out of her grimy walker-guts infested clothes and hang tight until Rick and them came back to pick them up. But after hearing the static from the walkie, Sally was too wired to sit around and wait for a rescue. (She wondered if that's how Merle felt the prior night.) So, instead she quickly decided that it was time to gut up and get the fuck outta dodge.

“Merle,” Sally whispered-hissed once she made it back to the seventh floor. She rapped her knuckles across the door, hesitant to make too much noise when there were still walkers in the building. It didn’t matter how barricaded the stairs had been--if she could make her way around it yesterday then she had no doubt that some walkers could make their way around the couches and chairs stacked in the stairwells too.

“We gotta go--” she whispered again and turned toward the door at the exact same time Merle had whipped the door open and nearly smashed her face in with Dale’s bolt cutters.

“Jesus , Angel. Ought ta give a man some warnin’ ‘fore walkin’ around like that,” Merle snickered, waving the bolt cutters up and down at her appearance.

“Oh, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Sally hissed and backed up against the opposite wall so that Merle could leave the room. She had several more things in mind to say to him--all of them snippy and quite a bit bitchy too. But a low groan from the hallway changed her mind. She could get into an annoying and petty bickering match with the redneck asshole another time--right now they needed to leave.

“Follow me.” She said quietly, jerking her chin over her shoulder in the direction of the eighth floor's roof access door.

“Don’ need ta tell me twice,” Merle said jovially. The man who had woken up and immediately started puking his guts up was nowhere to be found in Merle’s demeanor. He was back to his typical self again, acting like whatever weakness he had shown before was nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t call me that,” she couldn’t help but snip at him while they made their way up the stairs.

“Don’ be actin’ all shy on ole Merle now, Angel,” he chided her, nearly slamming the roof door shut behind them. “Be callin’ you tha’ for the rest o’ your natural born--” he stopped, clocking the gun bag almost immediately and a feral looking smile spread out across his cheeks.

“Jus’ keep making mah life better an’ better, don’t you, girl.” he commented.

“We need to go--I already have a car ready,” Sally huffed, rolling her eyes at the way that Merle looked like a kid opening Christmas presents, scrounging around in the bag. She couldn’t be more thankful to herself and constant need to plan ahead. She had found a small car shop next to an enclosed parking lot, two blocks away from the department store that she had packed with all the scavenged loot she had found the day before. The precious cargo that she had gone through the painstaking effort of nabbing for several hours before having to run for her life back to the store.

Merle pulled a silver handgun out of the bag and two extra clips, tucking them away in his front pocket.

“Can you carry the bag?” Sally asked him, before he could get too carried away with all that ammo and decide to start shooting walkers from the rooftop again.

Merle said something that Sally didn’t bother responding to besides inwardly rolling her eyes and shuffling around in her backpack that she had grabbed earlier before pulling a sharpie out. She uncapped it, kneeling before the metal tubing and reached one hand out to steady herself.

“Hell you doin’?” Merle asked from behind her.

“Message--for Glenn, T-dog, and your brother,” Sally didn’t bother looking up from the message she was writing.

Merle scoffed loudly, hiking the gun bag over his shoulder with such an ease that it made Sally briefly fantasize about pushing him off the roof. She would never do such a thing of course. (But the thought did make her feel temporarily better at the differences in strength).

“They’re coming back for us.” Sally muttered resolutely. Not that they were going to wait around any longer to be picked up. The walkie talkie reminded her that they still had a fight ahead of them at the Quarry, all the walkers that followed the car alarm back. She didn’t have the time or patience to wait around for the guys to come and pick them up.

“Ain’t no one comin’ for us, Angel.” Merle continued with a half-smile though there was nothing behind his eyes. “Opened your sweet lil mouth ‘round camp too much--ain’t no one like you or me. Not even those yapping pets o’ yours are gonna--”

“Enough.” Sally stood chest to chest with him, breathing hard. Her ankle had twisted from standing up to fast, giving a harsh popping sound. “Enough .”

“Got somethin’ ta say, girl?” Merle tested, his chin jutted out defiantly. Sally’s heart pounded against her ribcage, she couldn’t tell if it was from her patience finally snapping or fearing that she was about to get her shit rocked on that roof by a pissed off redneck.

“Yeah…I do,” Sally choked out, trying to stand her ground even though she was terrified of getting punched in the face by him. She needed him to stop but she couldn’t just say that to him because it was Merle, and she had not a single doubt in her mind that if she aggressively pushed at him like she did against Shane or even like she had against Ed--Merle would take the bag of guns and dip completely. She couldn’t count on him having some sort of attachment to her because she saved his life--the governor also somehow saved his life and Merle still chose Daryl and Rick’s group after months of being loyal to the man. Sally hadn’t even had a full day for Merle to feel like that toward her before she started telling him to stop doing something.

“Just stop it. Stop all of that,” Sally started to say, and she hated how much effort it took her just to keep the tears from spilling over. She was hungry, bloody exhausted, and she missed her bed. She could feel herself almost unraveling--she had never been in a position where her life had been on the line, for as long as it had been then.

All she wanted was to watch a sad movie and bawl her eyes out while sipping iced coffee with her mom. But she didn’t have that luxury anymore. None of them did.

“The hell ya thi--” Merle started to say, his upper lip curling in disgust.

“We’re family now.” Sally blurted out before she could properly think about it and the implications that could mean to Daryl’s hard ass-total asshole big brother. “Okay? All of us are family now--you, me, Daryl, Glenn--everyone at the camp. We’re family. We’re a group. “

“Only familys’ I gots is mah baby brother,” Merle sneered at her. “Don’ need no other--specially not them’s entitled, motherless quims.”

“No,” Sally shook her head, taking a step back so that they weren’t so close. Neither of them smelled like they’d had a shower recently. “Daryl’s your blood.But all of us?” she waved her hand around in the air, circling it. “All of this makes us family. So, I’d really fucking appreciate it if you stopped insulting the people I care about.”

Merle said something that she didn’t catch the first time because all she could hear was the sound of her blood rushing in her ears. “You gone go gettin’ your lil heart all broken. Don’ come cryin’ to me ‘bout it, Angel.” He warned her. “‘Cause I ain’t gone coddle ya.”

“You won’t need to.” Sally promised quietly when he walked away before turning to kneel and finish writing her message.

Glnn, Doug--

Found g* bag + sheriff’s hat + bk 2 cmp

Daryl Merle safe

--Sally <3

It was all she could do for the moment, but it was certainly better than an amputated hand. Sally briefly thought about leaving Dale’s toolbox there on the roof for the boys to pick up and bring back--just so they felt like they brought something back. In the end however, Sally decided against it on the off chance that everyone passed each other on the road going to and from camp.

Once done writing, Sally pocketed the sharpie and turned to check on Merle, nodding in the direction of the department store to get out. He didn’t say anything to her and Sally didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing for the two of them. The walk from the eighth floor to the ground floor was filled with a tense silence that Sally didn’t like but she refused to comment on it.

But by the time they got to the bottom floor, she needed to talk anyway.

“Have a car,” she whispered to him, standing next to the exit door, “but it's two blocks away and we won’t be able to avoid all the walk-- geeks.” If Merle almost noticed her slip up, he didn’t mention it.

He swirled spit around in his mouth before spitting loudly on the floor a couple feet from Sally’s feet that made her pull a disgusted face.

“Seriously?” she hissed.

“Gotta problem, Angel?” he asked, smirking. “S’pose I need me one of ‘em fancy ponchos--did Mr. and Mrs. Beaner give you tha’?”

“Merle.” Sally warned. They just had this conversation, did they not?

He shrugged, like that was somehow an answer for her. “Never see you talkin’ to Brownie an’ em.”

She was going to strangle him. She was definitely going to get wrinkles at the very least, just from being near his bullshit. Sally sighed to herself, trying to push the thoughts away for a later time. Getting on Merle for being a racist prick like always? Not an immediate priority. Finding Merle one of the coats that Glenn and Rick used to cover their scents? That’s a priority.

Before Sally could even come up with a plan and go over it with the older man however, he opened the door, wrapping his arm around a nearby walker and dragging it back into the stairwell with them. The walker growled, lifting its arms to latch onto one of them before Merle smashed its head in against the wall. Once, twice, thrice, the walker’s head was beaten into the wall, rotten dark blood spraying across Sally’s face from the close proximity.

“Jesus,” she breathed, when the stairwell was silent once more.

“Think this’ll look pretty snazzy on ole Merle, dontchu’,” Merle laughed to himself, viciously ripping the walker’s coat off its body. “Want some?” he joked while offering her a hand of walker-goop.

Absolutely not.

“I think I’m good, "Sally answered quietly with a pinched face. She was still covered in the original walker blood and her poncho was still decently damp with blood and guts.

“More for me,” Merle snickered to himself, and Sally looked off to the side as he lathered the coat in blood, wiping more of it on his face and thighs, copying Sally’s general look. “Whaddya standin’ round waitin’ for, Angel? Time ta get this show on tha road.”

Sally couldn’t fault him for that since he was right and instead readjusted her grip on the toolbox’s handle before opening the door and sliding out, Merle right behind her. They ambled to the back alleyway entrance, copying how the walkers dragged their feet (and it only made Sally slightly happier that her walker-walk was better than Merle’s was).

Once they got to the backdoor Sally couldn’t tell what Merle’s reaction was to seeing her earlier message sprawled out on the door for Daryl and the boys to come across. His face was carefully blank, and she couldn’t study it for clues because they were in the back alleyway by then. There must have been a dozen walkers shuffling around, and Sally found it difficult to keep one hand gripping her knife while the other held the toolbox.

Merle didn’t seem to be having any problem, the gun bag only jostling slightly with each step and the silver handgun held against his thigh.

They walked like that for two blocks under the Georgian sun, baking under the growing heat as well as trying to breathe as little as possible, the smell of dead bodies decaying in the heat was enough to almost make Sally pass out. Sweat dripped down their temples, Sally’s hair matted uncomfortably to the back of her neck and forehead from sweat.

A few walkers stumbled into them--one almost blowing their cover entirely when it gnashed its teeth close to Sally’s leg after it fell over a trash can. The sound had brought the attention of more walkers over to them temporarily, and it had taken twice as long to get out of the alleyway without suddenly tipping off all the walkers in the area.

Sally felt like it had taken an hour for them to get to the enclosed parking lot that was three blocks away and she hoped that her internal clock was wrong on that. The sun wasn’t high in the sky anymore, but it would only be a few more hours until it was dark and walkers descended upon the camp-- drawn in by the car alarm.

“Which one?” Merle asked when they had both made it over the chain-link fence. He glanced around the parking space, keen eyes noting the already dead walkers and looted vehicles.

“The bus,” Sally answered quietly and stepped away from the fence when two walkers had gathered up on the other side of it after failing to grab them before they went over. Merle said something under his breath with a roll of his eyes. She hadn’t quite heard it, but she assumed it was something along the lines of why she chose the ugly city bus instead of a cooler ride.

The answer, of course, was because she needed the extra space that a bus had, and smaller vehicles just wouldn’t cut it.

“Come on,” she murmured, and Merle looked like he was about to sarcastically salute her so she turned away first.

The parking lot had nearly thirty vehicles crammed into it--Sally guessed it must have at some point been a small camp for people who couldn’t get out of the city in time before it was napalmed. The street and buildings on the other side of the road were scorched and blackened. Most of the cars had met the same fate, tires melted into the ground, the sides of the vehicles dented and caved in. Ash had layered itself upon the windows and windshields that had survived the initial bombing.

“This must be hard for you,” Sally muttered aloud without thinking before immediately regretting it. Merle whipped his head around to stare at her, mouth already open with an insult on his tongue. “You’re a vet, aren’t you?” she said before he could. Half the time Sally felt like she was trying to speak before other people shut her down--she wondered how true that feeling was or if it was something that she was putting in her head and psyching herself out for.

Merle pushed his lips out and to the side, as if he was thinking about it. “The Marine Corp.,” he added as an afterthought. “Dismissed for punchin’ the shit outta a noncom,” Sally was going to act like she knew what that was while he talked. “Sixteen months inna stockade for it, too.” he admitted to her joyously.

“Was it worth it?” Sally asked, even though she already vaguely remembered Merle’s past--but she was the one who accidentally opened her mouth around him so now she had to see the conversation through.

“Ta see the look on his face when he spat them teeth out?” Merle asked, looking down at her. “Worth every damn second.” He closed his eyes then as if he was watching the memory play out again.

Whatever it had been seemed to put him in a better mood however, so Sally wasn’t going to question it.

They hurried to the city bus then, Sally wrenching open the double doors that she had just boarded up the day before and Merle stepped ahead of her automatically, his handgun raised to eye level as he swept the bus.

“Damn,Angel,” he whistled appreciatively, “Not as sweet as ya look, ain’t ya?”

That time Sally actually did roll her eyes, pursing her lips for good measure. “It’s not like that,” she defended because the last thing she wanted to think about was Daryl somehow hearing Merle say that and then thinking differently of her (not like she even knew what he thought of her in the first place). “We need it.”

Merle leaned back against one of the bus seats, looping his elbow around a pole for stability before picking up a grenade and acting as if he would start tossing it in the air.

“Please be careful with that,” Sally pleaded quietly and dropped Dale’s toolbox onto one of the empty seats she hadn’t already filled up. Next was her backpack, then her poncho.

“I’m more familiar with ‘em than yous are, sweetheart.” Merle said offhandedly but there was a calculative gleam to his eye when there hadn’t been one before as he looked around the bus.

“See why ya went off on ya own now,” he said quietly, as if it was more an acknowledgement to himself then anything to her. Sally sighed under her breath, closing the bus's double doors behind her so that nothing jumped in with them (living or dead) while they weren’t paying attention.

“It’s not much,” she admitted after making sure they were secure before leaning over one of the front facing seats, her elbows pressed into the headrest and one knee on the seat. Merle choked out a laugh, shaking his head at her.

She had had plenty of time to think about what she wanted to get out of Atlanta after all. Glenn and the others had been focused on more immediate problems--food for the camp, more clothes, toiletries, toilet paper had been a big one. Things like laundry and dish detergent that the camp was running out of, matches, oil, basically anything they could get their hands on. Sally knew that Glenn and T-dog could manage that well, but Sally had been more focused on other problems that they would be encountering further down the road. The farm. Woodbury. Hell, even Terminus, if the supplies lasted that long.

So, she scavenged and looted the small nearby military checkpoint that had been put up by the parking lot --before they were bombed and napalmed.

Ammo, guns; assault rifles, small arms, a couple submachine guns, flashbangs, smoke grenades, and a couple dozen regular grenades. She was even able to snag two grenade launchers off an upturned military vehicle (which nearly got her killed for being so greedy). She had taken the shoelaces from every walker's military boots that she had ganked--shoelaces were very handy, could be used for any number of things but she just couldn’t justify taking the shoes. Everyone’s feet were different after all and wearing someone else’s shoes that had already formed around the way they placed their feet could cause injury. And injuries were something that Sally wanted to avoid at all costs.

She had only been able to grab one bulletproof vest off a walker because as it turned out, that shit was really fucking heavy, and Sally had decided her life was worth more than just one tactical vest.

“--S’a aRP-fucking-G ?” Merle blinked. He had walked to the back of the bus where Sally had (very) carefully dropped two of the missile-looking weapons.

“I think so,” she shrugged. Did she actually know? No. She had just seen them while stealing shoelaces from walkers she had ganked and it reminded her of the time that Daryl had used one against the Saviors, so she nabbed it with the thought that maybe she’d get to see him use it.

Really the things that she had been most proud of nabbing off walkers and a few military vehicles across the street from the parking lot had been everybody's IFAK’s. Individual First Aid Kits. Sally had nearly achieved nirvana then and there when by the grace of god, she was hooked up with those. Tourniquets, hemostatic agents, medical pouches full of supplies and goodies. Hell, she had even found a fucking AED on one of the trucks.

Not to mention the sheer number of flashlights everyone had been packing. That was striking rich. So many multi-tools, flashlights, zip-ties, and duct tape.

“Hell you stay for?” Merle rounded on her with a searching gaze. “Coulda gone an’ left--be jus’ fine on your own with all this.” he waved a hand at the gear scattered around the bus.

“Why would I do that?” Sally frowned, backing up a few inches when Merle had rounded on her so suddenly. “What good would that do?”

She didn’t know how to use even half the stuff she scavenged. She was more likely to shoot herself or blow herself up--especially since she had the seven five-gallon gasoline cans sitting in the back of the bus that she had nicked from the other cars in the parking lot. Sally was certain that Merle already knew that about her though--she had yapped Shane’s ear off enough times around camp, always asking him to get them started on shooting lessons--so that couldn’t be why he asked.

She tilted her head to the side, considering him. She didn’t know how to bring up Merle’s original plan he had had with Daryl to steal everyone’s guns and then leave in the middle of the night. If she could help it, she didn’t want to bring it up at all. Trying to talk about that was an easy ticket to a fight and she didn’t want to fight.

“People are stronger together,” she shrugged, desperately trying to play it off like it was not a big deal, and she was Super Casual about the whole thing. Sally tried to say more, something about strength in numbers and maybe something philosophical about them rebuilding society together, but she didn't know how to say that without Merle rolling his eyes at her and tuning her out completely. Sally just got the feeling that they would have to go through some other major shit before he took her 'we're all in this together' thoughts more seriously.

"Besides, that's not even the best stuff I got," Sally smiled, desperately hoping to change the subject.

"Yeah?" Merle mused with his head tilted to the side, his expression telling her he couldn't decide if she was about to pull another RPG out of her ass or not.

"I got this too!" Sally said excitedly, pulling two boardgames down from the bus's overhead carriage. The tops of the boards read Scrabble and Pictionary.

When Merle's expression didn't reflect the same excitement Sally felt, she huffed and pointed to the other things she had dug out of the nearby cars. She already knew that Jaqi would love the cans of instant ground coffee. Hopefully Amy would like the Disney princess themed coloring books and pencils Sally had found in one of the cars--and if Amy didn't want them then they could go to the kids and Amy could get the books Sally had found. Two of the cars in the parking lot had had supplies for infants and toddlers--the baby stuff would come in handy once Lori gave birth all those months down the line. (She didn't want to think about the empty backseat that had been covered in dried blood when she had taken the baby bag).

But the thing she had been ecstatic about--over the moon even--had been the Polaroid cameras and extra film she had nabbed from a car full of photography related stuff. Most of it she had to ignore since it was all digital, but the Polaroid's had been a happy find.

In response, all Merle did was roll his eyes, scratch his cheek, then stand up to look over the front of the bus, tinkering around with the buttons that Sally hadn't been able to figure out. When he made to step out of the bus however, she stood up to follow him, but he shooed her away with his non-injured hand.

“Sit yer ass down, Angel,” he said with an emphasized swagger of his hips. “Put yer trust in ole Merle ta take care a’ everythin’.”

Sally rolled her eyes at the motion but did as told nonetheless, happy to get off her feet for even just a moment. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep but the moment she had sat down and leaned her head against the headrest, she was out.

Chapter 10

Summary:

Team-Save-Merle-and-Sally find some notes in Atlanta. Sally finally gets her bath. Rick meets Sally.

Notes:

Well helllllo there. Ya'll are beautiful. I chose to update instead of replying to comments. But don't worry I am getting to that! Either today (with what's left of it) or tomorrow! I dropped 7k and went, "well...good enough."

I now no longer have any chapters saved up so I'm thinking about taking a couple days to write so I have a little pile of writing to sit on or just write and release as I go IDK yet. We'll see what the vibes are like.

I did a small T-dog POV that I'm not super confident on--it doesn't really feel like his POV but he is more or less the narrator. We'll see, I guess.

I don't have many updates right now, so enjoy! <3

Chapter Text

T-dog POV

The four men scraped past the chain-link fence under the overpass heading into Atlanta. Rick crossed through first, quickly followed by Daryl and T-dog, with Glenn closing the gap in the fence behind them.

“Merle and the girl first or guns?” Rick asked when they hopped over the guard rails.

“Merle!” Daryl cut in when Rick looked back to check that Glenn was still with them. “We ain’t even havin’ this conversation.”

“We are.” Rick drawled forcefully before turning to Glenn. “You know the geography. It’s your call.”

“Merle.” Glenn answered, taking off at a brisk jog, the other men following closely. “Sally would’ve doubled back to the store after the car alarm went off. Probably squatting on the roof with Merle, or at least somewhere close by.” he explained quickly.

Rick nodded, though it was Daryl’s deepening frown that had T-dog worried. He already had Merle to worry about, he didn’t need the other backwoods, uneducated hillbilly redneck trying to come after him too.

The run to the department store was quick, efficient, and most importantly quiet . Daryl took down most of the walkers that got too close to them, his silent crossbow being more practical than either Rick’s handgun or T-dog’s pistol that Shane had loaned him--which had actually been Sally’s before the man had taken it away when she threatened to kill Ed with it.

“This way,” Glenn murmured over his shoulder at them, taking a shortcut through the alleyways to get them closer to the department store. There were only two walkers loitering near the employee back door entrance, quickly taken down with bolts. Daryl planted his foot over their heads, angling the bolts out of the walkers' eye-sockets with a disgusting sounding squelch that had T-dog turning away from the scene.

It was Rick who took point, carefully creaking the back door open and scanning the room for more walkers.

“Nothing here, let's go,” he muttered to them.

“Tha’ hell you mean, ‘nothin’ here’,” Daryl cussed at them, making T-dog and Glenn turn back toward the hunter. Daryl pulled his crossbow up against his shoulder, flicking at the door with his free hand, knuckles rapping against the metal surface.

“This here ain’t nothin’.” he explained, frowning. The message scrawled in dried blood flaked off where his fingers touched it.

“Your friend left a message?” Rick asked slowly, holstering his gun.

T-dog frowned from beside him, a mirrored expression of confusion upon his face. “Is that a code?”

Daryl scoffed under his breath. “They’re together, let's go,” he made to move toward the stairwell, but Glenn shook his head quickly.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he said quietly, brow furrowed in confusion. “No way they’re on the seventh floor--the place is completely crawling with walkers and that was before everything that went down yesterday.”

One of the reasons they didn’t bring back more bedding and toiletries to camp was because the seventh floor had been locked up tight from the inside with a large group of walkers stuck inside. T-dog had commented that they must have been a survivor's group at some point, squatting on the seventh floor of the department store before being overrun and locked in.

“Won’t hurt to look,” T-dog offered although he silently prayed that Sally wouldn't actually be hanging out on the same floor with a bunch of walkers.

Glenn shook his head again.

“Here’s an idea,” Daryl started in a scathing manner, “leave tha’ trackin’ to me an’ you can put a sock in it.”

“The plan doesn’t change,” Rick interjected calmly. “We check the roof for Merle, then grab the guns.”

Daryl was the first to agree, heading into the store silently, his crossbow raised to shoot at anything that came near them.

“They were here, man,” T-dog winced when they made it to the stairwell, closing the door behind them and looked down at the dead walker laying crumpled upon the floor.

“A couple times, from tha’ looks of it.” Daryl muttered, shouldering his crossbow to take a closer look.

“How can you tell?” T-dog asked, backing away from the crumpled body until his back hit the wall.

His question however was ignored, Daryl seeming to come to conclusions of his own that he either wasn’t willing to or didn’t care to share. Rick looked back and forth between the headless walker and the large red stain across the wall where blood and bits of brain had dribbled down in long thin lines.

“How big did you say the girl is?” Rick asked for clarity.

Glenn brought a hand up to just under his chin and then shook in a so-so motion.

“She couldn’t’ve done this then,” Rick concluded, pointing at the brutal scene before them. “Girl that size wouldn’t have the strength needed for it.”

“Or the anger…” T-dog mumbled under his breath. Because that's what was waiting for them up on the roof. An angry, racist douchebag asshole who never would've put them in this position in the first place if he had just not come at all. T-dog couldn't help the brief flashes of annoyance he felt at Sally staying behind. Didn't know why she tried being nice to the only two racists in their camp. If she wanted to know how to hunt so much, she could just go to Shane or Dale.

“Mah brother could. Toughest sumbitch ya ever met.” Daryl admitted, pulling his crossbow back around and taking the stairs two at a time.

Together the four of them ran up eight flights of stairs before coming across the roof access door that had been chained together by T-dog the day before but now it was left ajar.

“Move outta the way!” Daryl grunted at T-dog, shouldering him to the side and kicking the door open further. “Merle! Merle! Sally!” he yelled, stepping onto the roof with his crossbow raised.

“Is she there?” Glenn asked from behind them, sweat pouring down his temple, jumping the last three steps to make it onto the roof.

The door made a crunching noise as it slammed into the side of a dead walker's head, the bottom getting stuck partially in the damaged skull. T-dog stepped away from it, making a noise of disgust when he stepped into a small, brownish-yellow puddle next to the body. He prayed those weren't bits of cheese floating in it.

“Look,” Rick pointed his gun toward the broken off handcuff still attached to the metal he had locked it around. “It’s the same writing.”

The other men gathered closer to look over the sharpie-ed note. Rick frowned, Glenn and T-dog exchanged a look with each other and Daryl started back for the door, eyes intently focused on the gravel covered rooftop.

“Gee asterisk?” Rick mumbled, tilting his head to the side to stare at the message. “Bee-kay. Did she write ‘ bake to amp ’?”

Glenn tipped his head back with an embarrassed groan, causing the others to look at him. “Dude, really?”

“It’s kind of like textese,” When the three other men seemed to look even more confused, Glenn’s shoulders slumped. “ Texting , guys, c’mon. Amy and Sally talk about it all the time.”

Daryl scowled at the younger man, stalking across the rooftop until he was standing next to the note again. “Betcha she got that bag a’ guns you don’ shut up about.”

“How did you come to that?” Rick asked slowly, fingers tapping against his hips in deep thought. He tilted his head to the side, forehead shadowing his eyes from the sun overhead that was starting to peek through the clouds.

“See tha’?” Daryl pointed toward the door and Rick followed him until he realized the hunter wasn’t pointing at the dead walker next to the door but instead the displaced gravel in front of it that came to a stop a few feet away from them. “Betcha anythin’ that she found tha’ bag a’ yours--dragged it all the way up here--probably witha help a’ these.”

He kneeled down to grab an odd assortment of belts from the ground, shaking the pieces of fabric that had been belted and looped together for emphasis before tossing it back to the ground.

“And now they’re on their way back to camp.” T-dog concluded with a relieved sigh. So, they could go back, and he didn't have to worry about skipping around in a city of walkers with only a single magazine to his name and his good intentions.

“Hey guys,” Glenn spoke up from the side of the roof overlooking the street below. “I think we might be overstaying our welcome.” He pointed, once to the large city bus that was driving away while ruthlessly running over every walker within its view and then pointed once more to the side alley across the street from the department store, where six darkly clad figures were looking up at them.

“Let’s go back.” Rick said quickly, wrenching the door out of the dead walker's head to close behind them.

“C’mon man, we gotta go,” T-dog muttered to Daryl who had hung back with his hunting knife scraping at the thin sheet metal tubing the note was written on.

“Shut the hell up,” Daryl scowled at him. “Thinkin’ of leavin’ me--like ya left mah brother?” he asked, spitting on the ground.

“ Man , we came back for him--he’s already gone back to camp.” T-dog countered; upper lip curled in distaste.

“Is there a problem here?” Rick asked, sending a warning glare in Daryl’s direction. “I said we need to go now .”

T-dog hurried to the stairs, Daryl a few paces behind him. The door shut behind them, Glenn wrapping the chain through the handles to close it again.

“You, uh, got a do-rag or sumthin’?” Daryl asked T-dog quietly while the group made their way down the stairs.

T-dog turned back to look at the hunter, eyeing him from the corner of his eye up and down to see if the man was trying him about something. After an awkward silence between them, T-dog sighed to himself and pulled a blue bandana out of his pocket that he had been using as a sweat rag to help with the heat.

Daryl waved the cloth, slapping it against his leg once to open it up, then carefully pulled the thin sheet metal he had cut away earlier out of his pocket and folded it in the bandana. “Hey, short-stack,” he called to get Glenn’s attention before they went down another floor.

He pulled at Glenn’s backpack flap, putting the folded bandana inside. “Is that Sally’s note? Why’d you cut it?” Glenn asked, confused.

“Why ya ask stupid questions, huh?” Daryl snapped at him, faster than usual. “Ya want whoever saw us earlier to figure out we got guns an’ a camp?”

“- -think your jus’ gonna leave me there ta die?! ” Merle’s voice shouted out, the sound reverberating in Sally’s skull.

She groaned quietly, her head feeling heavier than lead and her throat dryer than grasslands during a drought. Something creaked in her neck when she finally peeled her cheek off the window and Sally squinted at the red, wet smudge that was left behind.

There was more shouting outside the bus that forced her to push through the last dredges of sleep and stand up. Her back and knees popped with the motion, and she was already looking forward to sleeping on her mattress. Just the thought of it nearly had her start salivating if her mouth hadn’t been as dry as it was.

Not that she could just hop into her truck and take a nap right then and there. She had over a day's worth of yuck just clinging to her skin like a leech. It was disgusting. At least she could finally take her much fantasized bath now.

Before Sally could fully get up, a water bottle that was only a fourth full, rolled off her lap and onto the seat next to her, the water inside catching small streaks of light. Sally squinted at the water bottle, positive that she hadn’t had one when she had first fallen asleep on the bus.

She deliberated on drinking it, just because if it was Merle who had been the one to drop it on her lap while she was asleep, she wouldn’t put it past the man to spit in it.

More yelling from outside the bus took her attention away from her dry throat and she stood up unsteadily, made her way to the front of the bus and stepped down the three steps to peek her head outside the bus to a scene of total chaos.

Majority of the camp was gathered in the center, broken up into small groups and watching several men in the middle of the ring roll around kicking up dirt and throwing punches. Lori and Carol were off to the side with their children, hands over their mouths and looking horrified. The Morales family wasn’t far off from them, the children crying and the wife screaming at the men in the middle. T o the right, Amy held Andrea protectively in a hug, the older woman nursing what looked like a growing black eye. Dale stood next to them, constantly going back and forth between comforting Andrea and also yelling at the men to stop fighting.

Sally scowled. She couldn’t tell who was rolling around like pigs in the sound and screaming just as loud, but she could take a pretty good guess.

Her earlier tiredness forgotten, Sally dashed back onto the bus, grabbed one of the black hand pistols from the back seats and darted to the front again.

Quickly, she checked the magazine and the chamber, took several large steps back from the group so she stood in front of the bus. She checked that no one was close to her, held her breath, then pulled the trigger twice in quick succession, pointing away from the camp and into the air.

Several people screamed from the sound, but Sally’s attention was focused on the men who had finally pulled away from each other at the sound of gunshots.

Sally stepped forward again, clicked the safety back on and nearly dropped the gun out of shock. She hadn't expected there to be any recoil and that was her mistake.

She wouldn’t make it again.

“So, what’s the problem gentlemen?” Sally asked, briefly thinking about moving closer to the circle before thinking better of it and standing guard at the entrance to the bus. The last thing she wanted to deal with was everybody geeking out and rushing the bus for weapons. (Considering she woke up alone and not from being jostled in a crowded bus, she had a pretty good idea of what happened once Merle got them back to camp.)

Most of the men—Morales, a few people who had never spoken to Sally, as well as Jim, all looked in various states of Fucked-Up, with Merle looking the least messed up out of all of them. Shane was a close contender for that spot, however.

“What’d I say about the guns, Sally?” Shane asked first, briefly looking up at her before holding his hands to his bleeding nose and pulling it until it made a cracking sound that had Sally wincing even from ten feet away. Sally really hoped that wasn’t Shane just fixing his own broken nose.

“Ya think we’re done, Piggy?” Merle baited, wiping at a bleeding cut along his temple. “We’re jus’ gettin’ started.” He looked mostly none the worse for wear besides the cut temple and a nasty split lip that had blood clinging to his teeth. Even from afar Sally could see how badly bruised his knuckles were.

“Juan! Juan! My love, oh my God,” Miranda screeched from the side, tears falling down her face. As soon as the men had stopped fighting and backed away from each other, she had moved forward to the man laying feebly on his side, his face so battered and covered in blood, Sally couldn’t even begin to figure out where the damage began and where it ended.

Morales’ children, Eliza and Louis, were holding hands at the side of the circle, trembling with silent tears falling down their faces.

“What in the world is wrong with you ?!” Andrea yelled at Merle, one hand shaking against her side while Amy dabbed at her blackened eye.

“With me? What’s wrong with ole Merle, tha’s what you askin’, huh?” Merle snapped at her, spitting blood out of his mouth so it landed on Morales’ shirt, the action only serving to make Miranda cry harder.

“Ya left me up on a roof ta die! Chained me up like some flea-infested goddamn animal an’ then went on ya merry fucking way, you rug munching bitch!” Merle shouted at her, pacing back and forth as if he couldn’t decide between going after Morales again or lunging for Shane.

“You would’ve gotten us all killed!” Andrea countered, wild-eyed and looking around for backup.

“Enough, Merle.” Lori stepped up, Carl hidden behind her while she looked between Shane and Merle. “Walk away.”

“Better shut your cake hole, Lover-girl, before I shut it for ya,” Merle threatened back.

“Nah, nah, man.” Shane snorted, blood dribbling down from his nose, over his lips and dripping onto his sweat-soaked grey t-shirt. “You don’t talk to her like that.” He puffed out his chest, flexed his fingers like he was readying himself for a round three against the older Dixon brother.

Sally barely refrained from rolling her eyes at the group's theatrics. So, she falls asleep for an hour? Maybe two? Not to mention that she couldn't even wake up naturally on her own after surviving her first night in a city overflowing with the dead but instead, she wakes up to the sound of people who couldn’t hold their shit together for a single day.

“Because, Shane, I’d like to take a shower and not have dead people's entrails falling out of my hair anymore--so, if you boys could take a rain check on the whole ‘beating the holy hell outta each other’—it’d be really fucking appreciated.” Sally clipped out, doing her absolute best to keep her tone controlled and even.

There was a moment where Shane and Merle both looked like they were going to ignore her words completely and go back to rolling around on the ground, trying their very best to bash each other's heads in.

It was Merle who surprised her first, however. “Whateva’ you say, Angel.” He chuckled, putting his hands in the air—the universal ‘don’t shoot me’ sign—and strolled back to the bus after whispering something toward Shane that made him glower darkly at Merle’s back.

People parted like the Red Sea before Merle, jumping out of his way before he got anywhere close to them. They watched his every move as if he was a mad, feral dog that had gotten into camp. He came to a stop a foot away from Sally, and with the distance between them shortened she could see all the ugly bits that she couldn’t see when he was further away and fighting.

The gash on his temple, his cheek throbbed with what looked like a forming bruise—possibly kneed in the face at one point was Sally’s guess—his shoulders barely heaved, not because he was trying to catch his breath, but because he looked like a rubber band one inch away from snapping. His fists were covered in blood, some of it even dripping slowly onto the dirt below.

Sally schooled her face into something blank as quickly as she could. She could feel Merle’s inquisitive gaze on her, his lips quirked up at the side like he was waiting for her to react to him. Her skin prickled with the weight of everyone else’s condemning stare.

Lori and Shane were standing near each other, the woman twisting his face to assess for damage while Carol was helping Miranda dab at her husband's wounds. Amy was helping Andrea into Dale’s Winnebago while the older man stood protectively in front of them, the gun clutched tightly in his hands.

“Get on the bus, please.” Sally whispered to Merle and stepped to the side, so she wasn’t standing in front of the entrance anymore.

“You gon’ play nurse again?” Merle grinned. Sally looked away from his bloody smile. “You gon’ spank me for bein’ ungentlemanly, is tha’ it?” He laughed, cocked his head to the side.

“The bus, Merle.” Sally repeated quietly. She was desperately fighting herself, trying not to show the absolute panic she was experiencing because how the hell did it all come to this? She didn’t even have time to think about yelling at Merle or anyone else—she was too busy screaming at herself because how did she not see this coming? Everyone and their mother knew how volatile Merle was and she already knew he’d be looking for revenge against the people who left him on the roof.

She had just been so tired—all she needed was a small break after being on high alert the entire time in Atlanta.

Merle scoffed at her, pushing past to step up on the bus, leaving Sally alone to feel the harsh, judgmental stares of the camp.

She pursed her lips, caught between not knowing if she should meet their eyes or if she should walk away with her head down—Merle’s behavior and fighting were going to be her fault now to some of them—especially since he listened to her and not to Shane or Lori. Especially because she shot a gun twice, in camp, after Shane had publicly taken her first gun away only days earlier.

Sally half turned her body toward the bus, not fully giving the camp her back but also not walking away with her head down. Like hell she would walk away looking guilty by association—Merle was a grown ass man and that was his decision to get into a fist fight as soon as he drove back to camp. There was not a single chance in hell that Sally was going to deal with all this interpersonal crap before she had so much as even gotten to shower.

She dropped the gun onto one of the seats after triple checking the safety was on. Her hand still buzzed after using it and she tried to push the thought away.

“Sit down, please,” Sally said to Merle, who had taken to angrily pacing the length of the bus’s walkway. He sat down with a flourish, kicking his feet up on the opposite seat, with an expectant look on his face.

“I’ll be right back,” Sally said gently to him, and she thought the only reason why he slowly nodded instead of saying something snarky at her and getting up to finish the job on Morales and Shane was because she hadn’t immediately gotten in his face to accuse him.

She’ll let him sit for a minute—a guy like that who still had the adrenaline and anger coursing through his veins wouldn’t listen to anything she said to him at the moment.

Instead, Sally moved to the back where all the IFAK’s had been stowed away. She grabbed two, thought about it for a moment, then rolled her eyes and grabbed a third one for Andrea.

“Stay on the bus, please.” Sally directed quietly over her shoulder to Merle. She turned her head, not knowing if he flipped her off or gave a sarcastic assent but he stayed on the bus and that’s all she wanted.

Her first pit stop was to the Morales family.

Miranda flinched when Sally came near them, roughly tugging both her children to their feet and behind her back. Logically, Sally completely understood why the woman recoiled away from her presence. It was a rational conclusion to come too--Sally had just shot a gun off in camp after coming back from Atlanta no worse for wear and the first thing Merle did was try to beat the crap out of her husband with no regard for anyone else.

It made sense logically.

It didn’t stop the instant hurt Sally had felt from seeing the way they recoiled away from her, before she viciously stomped down on those feelings. She didn’t have time to wallow in them. They were still waiting for Daryl and the others to get back to camp--Sally needed to call a meeting, needed to arm everyone with a gun who knew how to use one. She needed someone to go back to the Quarry office building and grab the three cars to bring back to the Quarry so they could use them as an improvised barricade for the incoming swarm of walkers headed their way.

Sally had too much shit to do (hell, she still needed to bathe ) and she couldn’t waste even a single second on something as inconsequential as a family pulling away from her like she was diseased or something.

“Here.” Sally said softly, laying the IFAK on one of the Morales families camping chairs. “Found it in Atlanta.”

Before they could say anything, Sally turned away from the one-sided conversation and steadily marched herself over to one of the campfires where Lori was patting at Shane’s face with a wet rag.

“Well, would you look at what the cat dragged in,” Shane bit out, voice full of sarcastic disdain for her when she entered his line of sight. “It’s fine, Lori, really.” he said quietly to the brunette woman, pulling his face away from the rag.

“Carl, why don’t you go get some more water.” Lori said quickly, trying to shuffle Carl away from them while also simultaneously sending a glare at Sally that could curdle milk.

“You don’t need to do that,” Sally said, only barely refraining from rolling her eyes. “I was just coming over to give you this.” She handed the second IFAK to Lori who took it with a snap of her hands, glancing between the first aid kit and back up at Sally.

“Alright, well,” Sally started awkwardly because Lori was still giving her the stink eye and Shane was casually pretending that she didn’t exist at the moment.

“Deuces, I guess.” She flashed a peace sign at them then turned toward Dale’s Winnebago.

“I think you’ve come far enough, Sally.” Dale stopped her at the entrance, closing the normally always open door behind him in a manner that felt passive aggressive to the redhead.

Sally gave him a bored look, tilting her head to the side. There was a flurry of things she could say to him--but majority of it was blatant insults and the rest of it was passive aggressive insults and as annoyed as Sally was about the whole thing she bit the inside of her cheek to hold it in. Her annoyance at the situation wouldn’t help her get any further so she needed to let it go.

“That’s fine,” she said, holding the last first aid kit out between them. “I was just gonna give Andrea this.”

“She’s hurt pretty bad, you know,” Dale hedged, slowly grabbing the bright red kit from her and tucking it under his arm.

Sally’s immediate first reaction was to scoff and minimize the entire thing--Andrea had a black eye and knowing Andrea it was probably because she tried to get in the middle of the wrestling match and got walloped by one of the men who didn’t even realize she was there.

Sally could see it in Dale’s eyes, the way he thought it was Merle who hit Andrea--and because Sally and Merle had come back together--it was somehow also Sally’s fault. She could see why he was concerned. Merle was fucking strong; Sally had seen that herself just that morning when he took a walker's head and beat it into nothing while carrying a bag that Sally swore was a hundred pounds.

Dale was probably worried that Andrea had a concussion from the hit.

“Hence the first aid kit.” Sally said sarcastically because that was the nicest she could be at the moment.

She turned back to the bus, hoping the few minutes away had given Merle time to calm down.

She shouldn’t have been surprised when she stepped in and the man wasn’t sitting where she last saw him but instead was fussing around with one of the guns, admiring the way sunlight glinted off the barrel.

“Sit down.” She said calmly, not even fully paying attention to him, too busy ruffling through her backpack again to grab her first aid kit.

“Finally gon’ fix me all up, are ya. Ain’t ya jus’ the sweetest.” Merle sneered at her, tone full of malice as he sat down across from her.

Sally ignored him, opened the first aid kit to lay out all the things she would need. Again. Because for the second time in less than forty-eight hours, Sally had to patch the man up because of his own actions.

“Oh, got nothin’ ta say, do ya?” He snorted, his normally bright blue eyes hooded and unreadable.

“Hands, please.” Sally said, one hand palm up and the other waiting with an opened wet wipe.

Merle nodded to himself, chin jutting forward in a facsimile of a grin but there was nothing kind about it. He moved like he wanted to fight. Like he wanted to wail on someone until they stopped moving.

“I really hope you’re not thinking of hitting me.” Sally said gently, barely louder than a whisper.

Merle’s head whipped forward to look at her in surprise, the earlier anger and hatred melted off to reveal something else entirely.

“Ya think I’d do tha’ to ya?” he asked quietly. It felt like a test. Like a trick question.

“No. I don’t.” Sally answered, because there was something in his face that told her he didn’t mean just then--when he was pissed off after being left to die on a roof and was coming back for vengeance.

“Hands?” She asked again, wiggling the wipe as a reminder to him. Merle dropped one hand into her awaiting palm, grinding his teeth if the look of his jaw working itself was any indication.

He was quiet the remainder of the time that she patched up his knuckles, wrapping cotton pads and gauze over the broken skin after disinfecting, sanitizing and cleaning it as best she could. He didn’t protest her checking out the gash on his temple. Didn’t even flinch when she cleaned it out with alcohol wipes. Sally got the feeling that she did something he didn’t know how to react to because Merle wasn’t the type to sit quietly with his own thoughts. He was the type to start a fight--or at the very least, say several very vulgar and sexual harassing things with a waggle of his eyebrows.

But all he did was sit there until she was done patching him up, tossing the trash in the tiny trash can hidden by the bus’s driver seat.

“They left me there ta die. Ya wouldn’t even do tha’ to a damn dog .” Merle said finally, staring at his bandaged knuckles with a far-off look.

Sally bit her lip to keep from immediately wanting to contradict him by saying that, actually there are plenty of people in the world who have done that , because that wouldn’t help the situation.

Instead, she exhaled harshly, wiped her palms up and down on her face then pushed her bangs off her forehead. This was not a conversation she could get away with by not having it. “Yeah, they did,” she acknowledged bluntly.

Sally turned back around, packed her things and first aid kit into her backpack and swung one of the straps over her shoulder before facing Merle again. “And it was wrong of them…” she leaned down so they were eye-to-eye and spoke softly so he had to actively listen to her words, or he wouldn’t hear what she said. “But you also need to remember that you’re not on that roof anymore. You’re here.”

“I ain’t a forgetful man, Angel.” Merle responded slowly, somehow making it sound like it was both a promise and a threat.

“Great,” Sally huffed, standing up again and pretending that she didn’t hear her back pop with the movement. “So, will you be good to chill here and make sure no one comes snooping-- without getting into another fistfight--while I go wash all this gunk off?”

“Orderin’ me ta puppy guard ya secret stash--who knew ya had it in ya.” Merle said with a click of his tongue.

That time she really did roll her eyes, standing on the first step of the bus before turning back to look at him.

“I’m asking if you’ll make sure no one gets sticky fingers before Daryl, T-dog, and Glenn come back.” Sally corrected him, leaning against the metal railing and instantly regretting the action when it made the pain in her side flare up.

Yeah, she definitely had a couple bruises. "Maybe more than a couple.

“For wha’?” Merle called after her and Sally poked her head back up over the railing.

“Shopping haul, duh ,” Sally said aghast. Merle made for an awful audience member that morning while showing off everything she found.

He made a noise between utter disgust and something else Sally couldn’t put a name to before he waved her off with a hand and she took that as her sign to leave. She had to manually close the bus doors behind her (She didn’t worry about Merle sitting in the bus and overheating--the man would either open a window or kick back on the steps, waiting for his brother to get back) and made her way back to her truck.

Sally fished the keys out of her bag and pretended she didn’t see the way the doors had been keyed to hell and back. Both the side mirrors had cracks in them but that was all she could see on the outside. She would need to inspect it later because if someone had slashed the tires or put something in the tank while she was gone then she would have to look for a new vehicle that was big enough to hold the mattress--not to mention all the goodies she was hiding in the car for a later date.

She already had a couple good guesses as to who had done it but she would deal with it later. Right now--bathing was more important.

The inside of the truck was scorching, hotter than the heat outside it. “Ow ow ow ow,” Sally mumbled, pulling a plastic grocery bag from the back seat and stuffing it with a change of clothes. She tossed her bag into the car with one hand and pulled her makeshift shower caddy out with the other before kicking the backdoor shut and locked it again. A quick look into the back cabin showed that nothing looked tampered with--her bed and pillows looked exactly how she had left them the day before.

The walk down to the Quarry water was nice. Quiet. The gravel crunched under her shoes, shifting ever so slightly to accommodate her weight and motion. The water was a beautiful, glossy blue--looking like something out of an oil painting in a museum instead of in the middle of a gravel dig-site. It was hot--sweltering really. The heat annoyed her because it meant she was sweating but at least it wasn’t snowing was what she told herself to stay positive. Shane thought she was a bitch now? Just wait until it was snowing, and she was cold.

At the bottom of the driveway was the blue-green lake. Toward the left was the small beach-like area that the women had taken to using when washing the camp’s laundry. Sally walked past it, a little further in there was a small bit of the lake, secluded by large rocks that had been thrown over the edge of the cliff above.

Sally moved her clean clothes off to one of the rocks so they wouldn’t get wet before stripping out of her clothes. Normally, people in the camp had to do a rag or sponge bath--by boiling the extra water that Shane would bring up first and then keeping themselves clean in the privacy of their tents. Sally, however, could not give two fucks at the moment and dropped herself into the shallow end completely, the water splashing up around her.

“Oh, God.” Amy’s concerned voice drifted over to Sally.

“What?” Sally asked, wrapping her arms around her chest, the water was so much colder than she thought it was going to be.

“Did you get, like, beat up or something?” Amy asked, her pale blonde head poking around the side of one of the rocks. “D’you mind?”

Sally waved the other girl over with a tilt of her head before leaning back and falling into the water to wet her hair and face. After a few seconds she popped back up, pushing her bangs back. “By people? No. By a couple car bumpers, a flight of stairs, and a very hard wall? Yeah.” Sally answered, closing her eyes in memory of running into a wall because she couldn’t turn fast enough. Her knee and palm stung at the thought.

Amy hummed in sympathy, sitting crisscross on the rock next to Sally’s shower caddy.

“I don’t get how you can do this,” Amy teased her, throwing the bottle of face wash, the bottle splashing water up. “What if there’s, like, brain-eating parasites in the water?” Amy asked in response to Sally risking bathing in the lake versus in the comfort and privacy of her truck. (Sally had tried doing a sponge bath in the truck once and she would never try it again. Lesson learned the first time, she would take her chances with the fishes.)

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Sally started conversationally, lathering soap onto her face and nearly crying with how much relief the action brought her. “But there’s brain-eating parasites outside of the water too. Although those ones are a little more literal on the eating part.”

Amy rolled her eyes good-naturedly, tossing her head back with a sigh. “You’ll never believe what happened while you were gone.”

Oh, Sally could believe pretty well what happened at the camp while she was gone fighting for her life in the middle of Atlanta. The benefits of foresight and all that.

“Yeah?” Sally spent a good hour in the water, listening to Amy tell her all the camp tea while simultaneously washing and rewashing her skin and hair thrice over until she turned pink from the scrubbing and her fingertips looked more like prunes than actual prunes did. Amy told her about the Shane vs Ed showdown that had finally happened. Sally couldn’t even begin to keep the smirk off her face when Amy told her about it. Next was about the guy they had come back to camp with the other day--one Rick Grimes who had also consequently gone back to Atlanta to look for Sally and Merle, apparently. Then there was something going on with Jim because he had been digging holes since he woke up that morning and only stopped when Shane had tackled him and tied him to a tree.

“Well, that’s easy,” Sally snorted without thinking.

“You know what Jim was doing? He didn’t even know what he was doing. Lori and Dale said it was sun stroke,” Amy repeated with a slight frown. “It was so creepy. He started talking about his dead wife and kids and watching them be eaten or something like that.” she shivered at the story again.

“Graves, Aim,” Sally explained with an amused snort. “He was digging graves because people are going to die--well, more people.” Sally quickly rectified.

Amy paled out of the corner of her eye, standing up so fast it almost looked like she toppled over into the water. “I need to check on Andrea again,” Amy mumbled as an explanation, walking away from Sally quickly.

“Awesome.” Sally said to herself. She had forgotten that she rarely talked about that stuff with Amy. They usually moaned about the lack of internet and the conveniences of the modern world that they had always taken for granted. Their conversations never traveled into the apocalypse’s grittier aspects.

The walk back up to the campsite was quiet and Sally had just finished throwing her dirtied clothes into a hamper and wrapping her damp hair into a bun on top of her head when there was more shouting coming from the bus. Sally grumbled to herself, rolling her eyes heavenward for patience and wondered if she was supposed to be thankful for the singular hour of peace she got while bathing.

“Okay, okay.” She said, trying to hype herself up for the confrontation she was apparently scheduled to have. She grabbed a water bottle from her front seat before locking the truck again and made her way over to the commotion.

Most of the yelling was between the two Dixon brothers and Shane from what Sally could hear--she wasn’t expecting their group to get back from Atlanta for another couple hours at the very least.

“Glenn?” Sally asked, puzzled. “T-dog?” she asked again, taking a pause on uncapping her water bottle.

“Sally?” they parroted at the same time, turning around to face her. “You’re here,” T-dog breathed, as if he was relieved by the news.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Sally said with a confused laugh.

Instead of answering, the two men gave each other a look. Okay then , Sally thought to herself, taking a swig of hot water. She missed ice so much.

“You must be the new guy,” Sally said, walking forward with a confidence that she was only pretending to feel. Rick just looked so young and baby-like--not at all like the apocalypse surviving badass he becomes in the end. Sally couldn't believe that was only a few years away.

“Rick Grimes,” he introduced himself in a lovely southern drawl, once he was positive the two brothers wouldn't jump Shane or T-dog. “You must be Sally.” He raised his hand to shake hers and because Sally was feeling a little bit pissy she ignored his hand completely.

“Sally Parker,” she introduced herself with an innocent-looking smile and offered him the back of her hand for him to kiss. Rick blinked a few times, looking between her and her hand to see if she was being serious before gently folding his hand around hers and bringing it to his lips. He didn’t kiss her hand, but he did tip his head in a polite greeting before letting go and stepping back from her.

“I’ve heard you got my gun bag.” he stated softly.

Sally couldn’t help glancing in Daryl’s direction, the hunter standing in the shade next to the bus who had been talking to Merle quietly before he felt someone looking at him and glanced her way.

“Oh, I’ve got a lot more than that.” Sally said to him with a smile before turning to address the rest of the campers loitering around the edges in case another fistfight broke out.

“Everyone sit down, shut the fuck up, it’s time for a shopping haul--and then after that we need to prepare for a swarm.”

Chapter 11

Summary:

Daryl and Sally chat while the camp remains indecisive. Andrea follows Glenn, T-dog, and Sally. The walker swarm happens.

Notes:

HELLOOOOO? Sorry, this took forever to come out. I don't have any AO3 author curse excuses to use (thankfully). I just lowkey hated how this came out and was on again off again about posting it but every time I tried to post it; I would suddenly think of a different scene I wanted to add. Like originally, I had two separate scenes with a Sally/Lori and a Sally/Shane before tossing it because it didn't flow well.

In my defense though, I also lowkey binged the Love Game: An Eastern Fantasy on Netflix (I haven't finished it though, only on ep 12 before I saw spoilers while doom scrolling TikTok and now I deeply regret it).

Anyways. Here it is. I don't want to say I had writers block because I didn't--I just wanted to make absolutely sure that I wasn't going to write something that would clash with what I have planned later on.

On a sidenote, finally got my final grade in my Crit theory back after emailing back and forth with my professor and looking like a FUCKING IDIOT the entire time because I thought they hadn't put my grade in on purpose because I ditched the last two days of class. Turned out that was not the case, they had put final grade in after like a few days and I just didn't know because they didn't have the grade connected to Canvas so I had to look that shit up through the Student Portal. On the bright side, I learned something new! On the downside, I looked like a plebian to my professor. Whatever, stuff happens, nothing we can do about it (I will remember this moment for the next ten years and be unable to fall asleep...)

TRIGGER WARNING: Walker deaths--possibly graphic IDK. Merle Dixon's general racism. Off screen people's deaths.

I see your comments! They get me through the week! I just didn't want to reply until I had this chapter out because.... honestly, I don't know why, I just feel like it's rude to reply and then go radio silence for another week before posting something. Maybe I'll get over that. Maybe I won't. Who knows lol.

Anyways, thank you for your support and comments and please Enjoy! <3

Word count: 8.3k

Chapter Text

“The hell are you talking about this time, girl?” One of the older campers--a man that Sally had never talked to, but she was pretty sure that Glenn had once told her his name was Burt.

There was a murmur of agreement that rippled through the small crowd.

“A swarm. Of walkers--coming this way.” Sally tipped her head to the side and nearly groaned at the confused look that everyone shared.

“Always going on about something, that one,” an older Asian woman whispered to her husband, and he shook his head in exasperation.

“Listen, I don’t know how much simpler I can make this until you understand.” Sally tried again and immediately realized what a bad idea it had been to say that when she got a negative reaction from most of the campers--not that she blamed them after indirectly calling them all stupid.

“Why don’ ya shut tha hell up old man, if ya know what’s good for you!” Daryl snapped, shooting a nasty glare at one of the older couples. Sally recognized them as the ones that always asked Glenn to bring back a box of Swiss rolls if he came across them.

“Enough. We don’t need to fight about this.” Rick interjected and moved forward to pat a man on the shoulder who had been eyeing the Dixon brothers up and down with poorly hidden contempt.

“‘Course you would say that, Officer Friendly,” Merle sneered. He rolled his neck with a popping sound and glanced around with unamused eyes.

Rick turned to face Merle while Shane scoffed from his side. “I believe we’ve already been over this,” he said coolly.

At that point Sally really did roll her eyes to herself. Normally, she would have been on the edge of her seat with a bowl of ice cream, gleaning far too much enjoyment out of the drama that was unrolling before her. But that was when it was on a TV screen. Now it was just a hassle and another problem to get through.

She spoke before either of them could say something that would start either another fistfight or--God forbid-- a gun showdown. Sally explained what she meant by swarm of walkers, explained that the sound bouncing off hills wouldn’t stop the walkers because it didn’t work like that.She gave them a (very) quick and oversimplified rundown of some of the experiments she had done with Daryl on their walks.

She hadn’t even finished before chaos broke out throughout the group.

It took the camp seventeen minutes to: panic about a potential swarm of walkers headed their way, deny that it was happening, lay blame on each other for it happening, think about packing up and leaving, and then have a yelling match with the two resident cops (more so Shane yelling than Rick) that no one was going anywhere and it was nothing more than a false alarm. It also didn’t help that Merle almost always had some sarcastic or snippy thing to say whenever someone talked which would then result in another almost fistfight.

Then Glenn politely reminded everyone about the supplies that Sally had brought back to camp and suggested they sit down for it. (Sally could kiss him for real. Just a big ole smooch on his forehead that would leave him grimacing and her laughing for days).

And while it took the camp seventeen minutes to come to that conclusion, it had left Sally to her own rising panic about the incoming swarm for seventeen minutes. She had ideas upon ideas on how to take care of the matter; plans ranging from barricading the place up and taking a stand, to getting everyone to go down to the Quarry dig-site building and huddle up in it while volunteers drove a car with the alarm going off back out of the Quarry, and then also just having everyone pack up and leave immediately for the C.D.C and leave the Quarry behind so they could skip the upcoming problem entirely.

“Hey.” Daryl said quietly from her side. The sound pulled Sally out of her thoughts, making her look up from the dirt to his eyes instead.

“You good?” he asked softly. A quick glance around told Sally that the camp was still fighting with each other. Some people who Sally had never spoken to were starting an argument with Glenn, blaming him and the car alarm for the incoming swarm. An elderly couple were breathing down T-dog’s neck, trying to convince him to give them his gun. Meanwhile Merle was watching it all go down with a sarcastic grin and a warm beer in his hand that Sally didn’t know where he got it from.

“Yeah.” Sally replied but she couldn’t just suddenly stop the way her shoulders were nearly up to her ears and the incessant urge to pick at her bottom lip. “No.” she rectified with a halfhearted shoulder shrug.

“Wan’ a smoke?” Daryl asked her, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket with one hand.

“Oh--no thank you,” Sally shook a hand in front of her chest. “I don’t like the smell.” she admitted to him quietly.

He frowned lightly at that, and Sally wondered if it was because he thought she looked like a smoker to him. For one small millisecond her pulse jumped, and she feared that he knew about her growing stash of goodies that she kept in her truck for future emergencies.

“Beer?” he asked instead, with a jerked nod in Merle’s direction.

She shook her head again. “It tastes bad.”

“Shit ain’t s’posed ta taste good.” Daryl snorted at her, like it was the dumbest shit he had ever heard in his life.

Sally giggled. She couldn’t help the sound that came out and it made her mortified.

“Hell you laughin’ at?” Daryl grunted at her, jerking his shoulder to readjust the crossbow hanging off it in irritation.

“Sorry--I just--I mean…” Why did she have to laugh? Literally why. She probably had just undone all her hard work over the last month,and all because she couldn't keep a dumb giggle in. “I wasn’t laughing at you. Promise. I was just laughing at what you said.”

When he didn’t look convinced, she tried again. “I mean it. Seriously. I just like the way you talk…” Oh dammit, what if he thought she was making fun of his accent after saying that?! Did he think she was dogging on him for sounding like a redneck? She waved her hands in between them, desperately trying to backtrack out of the conversation.

“Like, your deliverance is really good!” Sally tried not to cry and threw two thumbs up instead. “You’d be a great podcaster…I’d listen to your podcasts.”

He was never talking to her again. She blew it. He wasn’t saying anything because he was never going to say anything else again to her.

But he did say something, even if Sally didn’t know what to make of it.

“Ya don’ make sense ever.” Daryl said quietly, shaking his head to himself like he had finally come to a conclusion about something that had been weighing on him.

Sally was saved from further embarrassment by Glenn calling for her attention.

“The shopping…haul.” Glenn finished lamely, like it physically hurt him to utter those words aloud, but he would soldier through it regardless because that's what she liked to call it. Glenn had found himself a seat on top of an empty cooler and a quick glance around showed that everyone else had either brought over their camping chairs or, like Glenn, had found themselves a quick fix.

“Okay. Awesome.” Sally mumbled to herself before smiling at people who still looked rather incensed by everything. “Before we start though, I want to take a picture with everyone.” Sally hurried to the bus to pull the Polaroid camera she had scavenged, holding it up for people in the back to see it too.

Shane groaned, running a hand through his hair and down his face in agitation. “Now’s not the time to update your Myspace, Sally.”

“It’s for record keeping,” Sally replied to him before looking at the two Dixon brothers and jerking her head in the direction of the other Atlanta camp survivors.

“Nah.” Daryl said resolutely as if the very idea of having to stand next to everyone else and take a picture was more physically painful than getting stabbed.

“Please?” Sally scrunched her nose at him and squinted her eyes because holy hell it was bright outside, and she still had yet to find herself a decent pair of sunglasses that weren’t broken or horribly scratched.

“C’mon, baby brother,” Merle said from behind him, wrapping a strong arm over Daryl’s shoulders and physically hauling him over to the group while chugging the rest of his beer, despite Daryl’s protest against it. “Daylight's a’ wastin’.”

Sally gave them a quick countdown--only a fourth of the people smiled in the photo while the others remained blank faced or looked like they were about to personally take the Polaroid and throw it into the fire.

But Sally was happy with it because she got what she wanted from it. A picture of all the campers (minus Ed who was busy sulking in his tent after getting capital D- Dunked on by Shane) who had been at the Atlanta Quarry survivors camp since the start. Sally knew that asking for the picture was probably silly to the rest of the camp, but it was important to her.

It was imperative to Sally that they start a historical record for the group and the upcoming battles, years, and day-to-day life they had ahead of them.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” Sally said to the group at large, flapping the picture between her fingers to help it develop faster. “Glenn, if you could grab Rick’s gun bag and hat, that’d be great. Middle seats.”

While Glenn was busy, T-dog had come up to Sally at the front, holding her gun in his hands. “Here,” he explained to her. “Shane gave it to me before we went into Atlanta, but I wanted to give it back.”

Sally blinked and looked down at the gun in his hands before smiling at him and placing a gentle hand on his wrist to push the gun back to him.

“Keep it, it’s no worries.” Sally said and she could just feel Merle and Daryl’s stares digging into her back at her refusal to take the gun.

“Nah, man, that wouldn’t be right of me. It’s your gun, Sal.” T-dog tried again.

“Don’t worry about it! I have extra.” Sally explained quickly, because she didn’t want him to feel bad about the whole thing. She had a bus full of weapons now after all. Out of the corner of her eye Sally could see Shane narrow his eyes while T-dog went back to his seat.

She waited quietly, pretended to be focused on watching the picture develop while Glenn entered the bus and if Shane looked even more agitated by it, it was a win-win in Sally’s book. Glenn did not disappoint, giving a surprised yell before hurrying out quickly with wide eyes.

He hardly even looked at Rick when he set the gun bag down at his feet and almost dropped the sheriff’s hat completely before he was at Sally’s side, whispering furiously to her. “What did you do?”

“Not much,” Sally admitted with a disappointed shrug. She wished she could create copies of herself--then she would’ve been able to take the military vehicle back to camp too but all she could do was move the cargo into the bus. Not to mention all the extra guns and tactical vests she left behind because they were too heavy to carry.

Glenn wiped a hand down his face distressed, before rolling his eyes and walking back to his upturned cooler, mumbling something about hoarding and crazy . He was too quiet for Sally to catch all of it.

“Time for presents!” Sally smiled with a small clap of her hands. Glenn whispered something to T-dog that made the man go several shades lighter--his eyes darted between Sally and the bus and then to Merle who took an unholy glee in flipping him off.

“Little early to start playing Santa,” Shane muttered from his place beside Rick, arms crossed over his chest and legs spread out in front of him.

“Let her have a minute,” Rick said quietly, “no need to worry about any walkers when we have these.” he comforted them, tapping the gun bag with the side of his shoe.

“Exactly,” Sally smiled sweetly at him, dropping the Polaroid back in the bus on the driver's seat along with the picture. If he felt happy and secure with his earlier decision to bring guns with him, then far be it from Sally to take that away from him. “Thank you for the comforting words, Officer Grimes.”

Rick tipped his head in acknowledgement though his lips quirked up in the corner from the name in amusement.

Sally had scarcely had ten minutes of the group's attention to present the cans of coffee and boardgames she had found before Carol and Jacqui jumped at the chance to make a pot of coffee for everyone since it had been so long since they had last had some. All Sally could think was thank God for the general American people's addiction to caffeine.

They were still focused on boiling the water when Lori spoke up.

“Is this what the bus was for?” Lori asked from next to Rick’s side. She was holding hands with her husband while also cradling Carl into her side with her free hand. “Instant coffee and boardgames?”

Sally glanced over at the older woman after dumping the boardgames in Glenn and T-dog’s laps so they could look over it.

“I mean it's a sweet gesture, Sally, but if there’s a swarm of those things coming here then we need to do something besides sit around for show and tell. And if there isn’t anything coming then I certainly don’t appreciate you scaring the children like that--least of all the rest of us.” Lori finished, planting a quick kiss on Carl’s forehead for reassurance after whispering something to Rick.

There was a rippled murmur of agreement throughout the group. “Doesn’t know what she’s talking about…Leave it to a college girl to cry wolf, nothing new there…Dale already said the sound would bounce around…No point to this…This meeting could’ve been an email…When are we gonna cook the fish?” Some people seemed largely unperturbed and ready to take an evening nap, likely tired after their earlier yelling match.

Others were still annoyed, arms crossed and lips downturned to show their annoyance. Few others looked bored with the squabbling, looking around at anything that seemed even one iota more interesting than the current conversation.

“Alright,” Sally shrugged and idly finger-combed her bangs in thought. When she first thought about how this conversation would go, she originally thought about how much more willing they would be to listen to her and her ideas if they had a cup of coffee in hand and a game night to look forward too but now Sally saw that she had severely miscalculated how long it would take to make coffee.

Jacqui and Carol were still boiling the water to make the coffee in the first place, even with the cans being instant ground coffee. Sally supposed that was dumb of her to not factor that into her plan. She had always been an iced coffee girl--and with iced coffee the stuff had already been made, all you had to do was add a scoop of ice and voila . Done-zo.

“I found some guns--” Sally started to say before Glenn made a loud noise of protest in the back of his throat that clearly meant he didn’t appreciate how much of an understatement her words were, “-- and I’d be down to share with the rest of the camp but only after everyone agrees to help set up a barricade--among some other things.”

Funny how she had been so ready to tell them she had a bus filled to the brim with military grade weapons but when the actual time came to inform them, Sally couldn’t get the words to leave her mouth no matter how many times she tried to form them.

Shane stood up with a slap to his knees and paced restlessly. “I already told you we’re not doing that,” he said and swiped at his upper lip.

“You’ve had this conversation before?” Rick asked and because Shane had gotten up, Rick had gotten up too.

“C’mon man,” Shane huffed, “-there have never been any walkers near camp--”

“Jus’ had one this mornin’, the hell you talkin’ ‘bout,” Daryl cut in with a scowl and a raised hand towards the woods.

Shane shot him a look, as if he was annoyed with the hunter for butting in.

“That was a one-off, we all agreed.” Dale said quickly from his camping chair.

“Ain’t no damn one-off On Golden Pond, there‘re walkers all up an’ down them hills--we see ‘em every single day an’ you would too if ya ever bothered ta walk past the firepit!” Daryl shouted at Dale, throwing an arm up in emphasis.

“Don’ believe ‘im, I can always take ya out for a walk,” Merle interrupted, pushing off from the side of the bus and throwing the empty beer bottle into the fire pit where it shattered upon impact. “Whatchu think ‘bout goin’ on a nice long walk, yeah?” Merle asked with a grin though there was nothing even remotely friendly about it.

It sounded like a threat that nobody could pretend they didn’t pick up on.

“There won't be any need for that.” Rick said, pointing his words in Merle’s direction. “We can all have a nice, calm discussion about this. There’s no need for any fighting.”

“Like we did on tha’ roof, Officer?” Merle twisted around to face Rick; his expression contorted into one of fury. “Ya gonna handcuff any of these other, fine, upstandin' citizens in camp if they disagree with ya? Or you jus’ gotta special hard-on for ya old pal Merle?”

Andrea, Amy, and Jacqui made noises of disgust at his words. Lori glared at him as if he could spontaneously combust if she glared hard enough, moving two hands up to cover Carl’s ears. Shane rubbed a hand back and forth across his head, poking at the inside of his cheek with his tongue in aggravation.

Rick cocked his head to the side, hands resting on his hips.

“You were a danger to the group.” Rick started.

“You left mah brother for dead!” Daryl shouted and moved closer, body taut as if he was expecting another fistfight to break out and he was in prime position to have Merle’s back if it did.

“Guys, come on,” Glenn interjected quickly, glancing back and forth between the offended men. “Let’s just finish listening to whatever Sally has to say--I’m sure she's got a good id--”

“I ain’t takin’ no damn orders from a Chinaman --s’pecially after he tried ta get me killed on tha’ roof!” Merle grounded out, spitting a wallop of saliva on the ground at Rick’s feet in retaliation.

“ Enough .” Sally said loudly, gaining the men’s attention. “We’ve been over this already,” Sally said pointedly, leveling Merle with a look before glancing at the rest of them. She sighed then, feeling a kink working its way up her back and shoulders from the stress and turned back toward the group of onlookers who had been watching the verbal spat between the men like it was a vaguely interesting game of ping pong.

“Whether or not you agree doesn’t matter--there’s a swarm of walkers coming for this camp--brought in by the sound of the car alarm,” when it looked like Dale was about to interject, Sally raised her voice and spoke faster. “It doesn't matter if the sound echoed--walkers don’t need to eat or sleep or take breaks. They will keep searching for whatever sound got their attention until they find it.” Sally explained in what she hoped was an efficient manner but the way that half the group still looked uninterested in the proceedings made her doubt it.

“We are all in danger. And if that doesn’t light a fire under your ass, then I don’t know what will.” Sally finished quietly, hoping the more solemn air in camp would help the people realize how serious this was.

In the back, one of the men that Sally had never spoken to but had tossed a hamper of dirty laundry at her feet once, raised his hand and asked, “When’ll the coffee be done?”

“Ten minutes more or less, sugar.” Jacqui answered from next to the firepit. Beside her, Carol was opening another can.

Sally wished she could be more disappointed in how the group began to peter off and go back to doing their own thing, but she wasn’t. There was irritation, yes , but the feeling wouldn’t help her do anything.

“Can you watch the bus again?” Sally asked and turned toward the two Dixon brothers again. “Make sure no one gets any bright ideas-- without getting into an altercation?”

Daryl scowled at the insinuation, but all Merle did was laugh. “Tol’ you they don’ care, didn’t I, Angel?” Merle gloated shamelessly. “If they don’ wanna see then tha’s on them. They’ll die sooner or later--sure hope it’s sooner, though…” he trailed off, staring in the general direction where Rick was standing, talking quietly with his wife and Shane.

“Will you do it or not?” Sally asked and didn’t even bother with trying to say something against Merle’s words.

He looked away from Rick, looking down at her after a moment with a glint in his eyes. “Sure will.”

Sally looked to Daryl who was still scowling though the scowl was directed to Merle and Sally then, instead of the group. “Thank you,” she said sincerely to him with a smile, “I appreciate it.”

She didn’t stick around to see what they thought of that, instead she darted for her truck to grab her bag again. The inside of the vehicle was just as hot as the last time she had opened it, so she didn’t stay near it any longer than she had to--just to get her pack and the key sets that she needed. She already had her combat knife sheathed and slung across her hip--she had gotten used to always having it on her--and tossed her lukewarm water bottle into her pack so she didn’t go without any hydration. Even if the Quarry office was only a couple minutes away, Sally didn’t want to leave something as important as staying hydrated to chance.

Her first pit-stop was Glenn and T-dog. Glenn rounded on her as soon as she made herself known to them, whisper-hissing at her. “ A couple guns. A couple guns, Sally--I saw a grenade launcher in there!”

“There are two, actually.” Sally corrected blankly before thinking that that maybe wasn’t the best piece of information she could’ve given Glenn.

“I don’t-- where did you even find all that stuff, man?” T-dog whispered to her. “Shit’s dangerous--and I don’t feel comfortable knowing that Merle- Douchebag -Dixon is guarding it.”

Sally sighed. “I looted it from a military truck when we all went to Atlanta. And for your concerns--I get it, I do. I’m working on that with him--but he’s also the only person with any experience in camp with that stuff.”

“No offense, but I don’t think getting drunk on moonshine and setting off fireworks in the backyard counts as experience when it comes to grenade launchers and submachine guns.” Glenn hissed under his breath, looking around the camp nervously to make sure no one heard them.

“That’s not--” Sally huffed, brushing her bangs out of her eyes in irritation. “He used to be a marine , that’s what I meant by experience--and I didn’t come over to discuss that with you, I came over because I need your help getting back to the Quarry office so we can bring the other cars back.” She exhaled harshly, looking up at her two friends.

Glenn immediately winced though he tried to hide the action, likely remembering that he was the one who drove the car all the way back to the camp in the first place. And even if he had forgotten (which was unlikely), a good majority of the camp had torn him a new one just that morning over the problem.

“So, are you with me?” Sally asked them.

T-dog inhaled slowly. “Are you sure they're gonna come?”

Sally nodded.

“Then yeah,” T-dog agreed, and rubbed the back of his neck.

“What are the three of you up to?” Andrea asked, poking herself into the middle of their conversation. Sally hadn’t noticed the woman had come over to them.

“Uh,” Glenn started to say. “Sally wants to hit the Quarry office and bring the leftover cars back.”

“How many are there?” Andrea asked in a tone that said she was secretly delighted about something, but Sally didn’t think too hard on it--there were other more important things she had to juggle in her mind and that wasn’t even the top ten at the moment.

“Three--I think,” T-dog’s eyebrows scrunched together, trying to remember before nodding to himself.

“Oh, perfect--I’ll come too.” Andrea said, a note of finality to her tone.

“I don’t know…” Glenn said, uncertain. Likely thinking about their most recent supply run when he had brought people with him, and everything had quickly gone to hell in a handbasket.

“You need me.” Andrea said with a raised brow. “Three cars, plus the car it’ll take to get there--you need another driver and I’m here to help.”

Glenn glanced over to Sally, jaw tight.

After a moment of thinking about it, she shrugged. “It’s a round trip--twenty minutes, if that.”

Glenn sighed. Clearly that hadn’t been the answer he had wanted to hear from her, but it was too late by then to do anything about it.

“T-dog’s van in ten--grab whatever you’re gonna need.” Glenn said in a disparaging sort of tone that meant he was not looking forward to going out so soon after how his last run had gone. Sally could empathize. He had just gone to Atlanta twice within twenty-four hours. He probably wanted to rest just as much as Sally did. (But then again between the two of them, Sally was the one who had to spend the night in Atlanta, so she takes that back.)

“All I need is my gun,” Andrea started to say confidently, and T-dog turned to frown at her.

“No guns, man. We don’t want to make any more noise, you get me? The guns and car alarm are the whole reason we’re doing this in the first place.” T-dog said and slapped a supportive hand over Glenn’s shoulder when he looked away at the reminder he was the one who drove the car up to the Quarry.

“Well, the only thing I have is my gun.” Andrea admitted.

“It’s fine,” Sally said, wanting to hurry this along. “There’re more bats at the office, anyways.” Because when Glenn and T-dog had first picked her up they said they could leave the extra bats there since they didn’t have a use for them. Now look how far they’d come.

“In ten.” Glenn reminded and once everyone nodded, they turned their separate ways.

Sally walked back to the bus where both brothers were camping out in the shade afforded by it in separate camping chairs. Merle was nursing another glass bottle of warm beer and Daryl was cleaning a pack of bolts. Whatever conversation they were having seemed to die out when Sally got closer.

“Have yourselves a powwow?” Merle asked around the neck of his drink.

“We’re going to the Quarry office--there’s a couple cars I want to bring back and make a barricade with them.” Sally answered quietly. She briefly glanced over toward the firepit where a few people were milling about. Jacqui and Carol were handing out cups of coffee to everyone with a smile on their face. Rick, Shane, Amy, and Dale were busy frying the fish up that the two blonde sisters had caught earlier in the morning. Some of the kids were playing, chasing each other around the camp and laughing. But both Sophia and Carl, as well as the Morales children, were sitting near the firepit group, tying and untying knots over and over with each other while Lori watched over them.

“Well, that’s all I had to say--just wanted to update you guys.” Sally said, a bit awkwardly when neither man seemed like they would respond to her. “We’ll be back in twenty or so.”

She smiled at Daryl one last time when he glanced up at her briefly to nod and then she was turning on her heel again, meeting the other three at T-dog’s van. Andrea said something about telling her sister where they were going, and Glenn had checked in on Miranda and her husband before popping back over to them.

“Is this the place?” Andrea asked once T-dog stopped the van and the quiet hum from the engine turned off. “ This is where you were staying?”

Sally glanced back at the blonde woman quickly and then looked forward once again. “Yep.” She said, popping the P sound.

Really the only difference was that the cars had developed a light layer of dusting over the windshields and the office door had been left ajar since T-dog and Glenn had originally pried the door open all those weeks ago.

“Here,” Sally called, and tossed Andrea and Glenn the soccer mom car keys and Jetta key fob, respectively. When Sally turned back around, they switched key fobs with each other.

“Which one has the bats again?” Glenn asked quietly, not wanting his voice to carry in the open air.

“This one,” Sally answered half-heartedly, where she stood behind the remaining SUV. She jiggled the keys into the keyhole until the back popped open and she slid three of the dozen or so bats out from the back, handing them to her companions.

“Are these kids bats?” Andrea asked skeptically while turning it around in her hands, her nails making a light tapping sound against the alloy bat.

“Junior league, maybe,” Glenn said before nodding in thanks to Sally for the bat. “Middle school age, I think.” He didn’t sound very confident with the analysis but rolled it between his palms and swung it over his shoulder to get used to the weight.

“Guys!” T-dog hissed at them, anxiously looking behind them toward the road. Sally half-turned to see what had spooked him.

Ambling up the road and into the gravel parking lot were five walkers, dirt kicked up from their shuffling feet. They groaned, low and long between each of them. Sally turned around fully, taking a quick 360 scan of their surroundings and gave a sigh of relief when there were no other walkers in their vicinity. Five walkers were easy--basically one walker a person and then they could hit the last one together, if it even needed that. She unsheathed her combat knife from her belt, at the same time that the walker's general smell of rotting flesh hit them.

“We gotta go, man!” T-dog panicked, nearly dropping the bat to run back to his van.

“Hold it!” Sally called after him and out of the corner of her eye she could see Andrea panicking too. “Stay together--it's only five.”

“ Only ?!” The blonde woman screeched, half terror, half anger and landing somewhere in between the two.

Sally refrained from rolling her eyes--she didn’t want to develop a bad habit and then get potentially eaten in the future because she wasn’t paying attention. “Separate them!” She called over her shoulder, moving to the right to create a wider berth between her and the others.

One of the walkers separated from the others that it had grouped up with, following her with its arms raised and teeth gnashing. Part of its face had been bitten off, showing the bone underneath. One clouded eyeball was swaying with every step it took, barely still connected by fraying muscles.

Sally pulled her knife up, grasped it tightly above her. Her shoulder cried from the action, still sore from carrying the gun bag from earlier but she ignored it to focus on the walker instead. With a silent exhale of air, she moved forward, one arm out to latch onto the walker's clothes, pulling it forward at the same time she drove her knife into its empty eye socket. Blood sprayed from the injury, the eyeball falling away from the face completely. The walker dropped to the ground, its teeth making a crunching sound against the gravel.

Across the parking lot, Andrea screamed, wildly pushing a walker away from her with the bat. A different walker reached for Glenn next to the SUV and he kicked one of its legs out, sending the walker down to its knees, the head thunking against extra bats and making them topple out of the trunk with a ping- ing sound.

“Fucking kill it, Andrea!” Sally yelled across the parking lot, stepping over the walker she just killed. The eyeball rolled under her shoe, splattering under her weight. “T, behind you! ” Sally yelled, the man turning just in time to avoid being grabbed by the last two walkers.

Glenn yelled something Sally couldn’t make out and pulled at the SUV’s trunk door, slamming the metal door down onto the walker that had yet to stand up. It’s head thunked against the door, blood splattering everywhere, spraying across Glenn’s pants and the gravel. He slammed it down with a cry, again and again, the skull crunching from the force.

Across from him, T-dog tripped around one of the walkers, pulling the bat up and swinging it into the closest walker's face. It hit the side of his van, blood shooting out and hitting the driver side window. T-dog cursed at the walker, pulling the bat back for another swing, bits of flesh and hair clinging to it.

Sally made her way to T-dog and pulled at the second walker, dragging it away from him at the same time his bat connected with the first walker's head again. Sally threw the second walker down to the ground, its head bouncing off the ground from the force. Her knife slid through its eye socket, the walker not moving after the first three inches pierced through it.

She looked up briefly at the sound of shattering glass--T-dog had swung at his walker again, its head hitting one of the church van’s windows and going through it before it stopped moving. A quick scan over T-dog didn’t show any bites so Sally darted around the hood, looking for Andrea.

Around the side of the vehicle Andrea was scuffed from falling and trying to crawl away from the walker. She was screaming, face contorted in terror and tears falling down her cheeks, dripping onto her shirt.

“You got this, just kill it!” Sally said supportively, going up behind the walker to pull it back if needed.

In response, all Andrea did was scream some more.

“Sally, just kill it!” T-dog huffed from behind her, holding the bat in his hands while it dripped blood.

Glenn stepped forward to end the walker but paused at the glare that Sally sent his way. “She’s scared,” he said as a reason to step in.

“She can do it.” Sally repeated firmly, shaking her head at him. She turned back to Andrea then, who had scraped up her knees and palms but had gotten to her feet again, “Andrea, you got this!”

If she could kill a walker with a screwdriver inside a closed in space in the middle of a piled-up highway while there was a herd passing by then Sally knew with absolute certainty the woman could kill one walker in an open parking lot with a bat. Andrea tripped again and Sally surged forward, grabbed the back of the walker's jacket to pull it back and give the woman time to pick the bat up again. As soon as Andrea had the bat in her grip, Sally kicked the walker forward and away from herself.

With a screech, Andrea pulled the bat up then brought it down hard on the walker's head. Ping . She raised it again, tears clouding her vision. Ping . She swung again. Ping . Over and over, she slammed it down until there was nothing left of the walker except a headless corpse with a large puddle of foul-smelling blood pooling underneath it.

Finally, Andrea stopped, the bat falling from her hands and rolling to the side, feet away from her. When she looked up at them, her face could hardly be seen through the blood covering her, dribbling down her chest and shoulders. There were small tear tracks through the blood, her bangs slicked to her forehead.

She breathed out quietly, collapsing to her side.

“Good job.” Sally complimented quietly. To the side, T-dog looked between the two of them with his mouth slightly open.

Glenn rushed to Andrea’s side to help her up, offering a hand and a packet of hand tissues to the older blonde woman so she could wipe her face with it. Sally tipped forward, hands groping at the headless walker's body, patting it down.

“What are you doing, man?” T-dog asked her quietly.

“Looting.” Sally said back quickly and stuffed her hands into pockets until she emerged victorious with a pocket blade and some soy sauce packets. “Score! Check it,” she smiled and tossed the soy packets in T-dog’s direction.

“Bet that’ll make the fish taste better.” Sally remarked casually before quickly moving onto the next walker.

“That’s it?” Andrea said tensely. Sally looked up from the walker she was looting to see the blonde standing above her, the blood partially scraped from her face. Her voice was raw from screaming. “You almost got me killed--and you’re worried about condiments to put on your dinner tonight?”

Glenn stood a few paces behind her, holding their bats in his arms and worrying his bottom lip.

“You had it,” Sally started to say in a gentle tone, but Andrea would have none of it.

“I almost died !” Andrea screeched at her, shoulder trembling and a vein bulging in her neck that showed her heart had yet to settle down.

Sally sat back on her haunches; elbows placed over her knees and gave Andrea a considering look.

She could react to Andrea’s anger. She could blame Andrea and say it wouldn’t have happened if Andrea hadn’t inserted her nose into their business in the first place. She could explain that this was how the world was now and if Andrea didn’t toughen up soon then she was dead. Hell, she could even mock the woman for her over the top screaming--a small part of Sally even wanted to.

But that wouldn’t get her anywhere. (Not to mention that doing so would put a strain on her friendship with Amy).

“You had it.” Sally repeated softly. “I knew you could do it yourself--that’s why I didn’t step in.” Sally kept it to herself that she had stepped in to hold the walker back before Andrea could get to her feet again. Saying that would basically be throwing it in Andrea’s face and it wouldn’t help anyone.

When Andrea didn’t say anything, Sally tipped her head to the side, poking the inside of her cheek with her tongue in thought for a moment before she asked, “Was that your first walker kill?”

Andrea opened her mouth then closed it. She didn’t say anything.

The silence was telling.

Sally nodded to herself with a huff before standing up again and closed the distance between the two of them. Andrea startled slightly but she held her ground regardless, raising her chin defiantly and narrowing her eyes at Sally. There was only one way Sally could think to deal with this, so it didn’t become a bigger problem later.

“ You ,” Sally pointed at Andrea, “just took out your first walker ,” she pointed lazily to the walker dead on the ground. “And you did that after fishing all morning for the camp.”

Glenn and T-dog exchanged a nervous look, widening their eyes at each other in some form of silent communication.

Sally leaned forward. “Girl you’re a badass . You deserve a drink and a place to put your feet up!” She said exuberantly, and patted Andrea on the shoulder in what she hoped would come across in a supportive way.

Then she walked away, back to the SUV that Glenn had used to smash a walker’s head with and fiddled with the key in the ignition until the engine turned over and hummed to life finally . Sally didn’t even want to look up until she was positive that the SUV wouldn’t die on her for fear that she would look like an idiot to them. Thankfully, however, when she looked up through the dusty windshield no one was standing there to stare at her but instead had all gone back to their own cars and fiddled with them until they turned over.

“Yo, you ready?” T-dog called from his halfway rolled down window.

There was an answering chorus from the rest of them before they followed his church van out of the parking lot and back to camp.

When they pulled back into camp with the new cars, Sally was surprised to see that some of the people’s tents were not where they had been for the past month. Not everyone of course, but a good chunk of people who had tents near the forest line had moved in closer.

Sally also noticed that the Dixon brother’s tent had been moved closer to her truck.

The only ones to stay where they were was Carol’s tent because Ed refused to move and also refused anyone who offered to move the tent (which hadn’t been very many, according to Amy). The Morales family had also stayed where they were, but they did move some of their outside camping gear like chairs, games, and coolers to the other side of their tent.

Sally didn’t know why there had been a sudden change in attitude--although she was sure it had something to do with the way Rick and Shane had taken to the idea of protecting the camp more. Sally didn’t care what caused it, she was just happy she didn’t have to get into another yelling match with Shane about the safety of the camp.

Within the hour, they had the majority of cars lined up against the forest line (including the city bus that Merle parallel parked into position because its length would be helpful), as well as a few cars parked across the hill that led from the Quarry up to the camp.

A few of the men had shotguns strapped over their shoulders (Jim and Dale) or a handgun attached to their waist (T-dog, Glenn, and Morales). Shane and Rick were the only ones to have both a handgun on their hip and also a shotgun over their shoulder. Merle had taken a handgun and rifle from the bus and seemed to get an inordinate amount of joy from the way everyone shifted nervously when his hands strayed too close to them.

Daryl had chosen a shotgun, but he seemed far more interested in his crossbow, doing some kind of general maintenance for it while also ignoring everyone else in the camp.

Nearly as soon as they had lined all the cars up and everyone got settled in with the sun setting overhead, Andrea had put a pistol in Amy’s hands and was quietly going over whatever safety lessons she had gotten in gun safety and was relaying that same message to her younger sister--much to Dale’s quiet chagrin.

After a moment of speculation, Sally had decided on an M9 handgun for herself, finding a drop leg holster in the bus that she definitely hadn’t looted in Atlanta but it was there anyway so she would take what she could. The weight against her leg was weird. Uncomfortable. She didn’t enjoy knowing that the gun was there.

She had never been a big fan of them—always thought they were obnoxiously loud, and she hated the thought of knowing that it was a weapon specifically meant to kill.

(But she didn’t get to live in a world where guns were an option or even a hobby anymore. She didn’t get to have the luxury of turning her nose up at them. At some point she would have to kill another human being.

Maybe a lot.

The thought made her stomach flip uncomfortably but like hell was she going to just sit with her thumbs up her ass and debate the ethics of doing such a thing with herself when she knew that the governor was out there and could potentially hurt Glenn and Maggie. Or Dawn at the hospital who had killed Beth. The Saviors. Negan.

She didn’t want him within even five hundred miles of Glenn and Daryl—much less anyone else.)

Sally had argued for everyone to stay in cars that weren’t being used for the wall around the camp—even asked about them staying in the Winnebago or the city bus with the windows covered and the double doors barred—but the group wouldn’t have any of it, saying that she had already disrupted camp life more than enough for the week and they had already moved their tents.

With the sun setting lower, Sally opted out of dinner—instead taking a leftover granola bar from her truck and a bottle of warm water—and settled herself on top of the city bus to watch the tree line.

She already knew the walkers were coming but she wanted to physically see them as they made their way to them. At some point Amy had tried to get her to come down to sit around the fire for dinner, but Sally had only shaken her head before making Amy promise her that she wouldn’t go anywhere without telling her and also that the second she heard something, she would go running for the Winnebago. The entire conversation had made Amy roll her eyes and say, "Yes, mom," before going back to the firepit.

Right when the sun was setting, Merle had bullied one of the other men off the top of the Winnebago so he could sit up there instead, which almost started a fight before Lori harshly snapped at Rick and Shane that it wasn’t something to fight about right before dinner.

The sun had disappeared behind the hills at a certain point, the only light in camp from the campfires and the moon above them, when dinner was passed around by the women. People huddled around fires with each other, trading quiet stories over grilled fish with a portion of creamy mushroom soup on the side and a cup of coffee.

The food hadn’t even been fully passed around yet before something was banging on the other side of the cars, a quiet shuffling sound just barely heard over the crackle of the fire.

“Maybe it’s just the wind,” someone said quietly before sinking down further into their seat. Shane snapped something sarcastic at them, but he couldn't be heard over the sound of sudden screaming.

“Lori! Carl! Get in the Winnebago now!” Rick shouted to them, jumping up from his seat with his shotgun cocked, dinner forgotten about entirely.

“Come here! come here!” Lori screamed and wrapped one arm around Carl’s shoulders while holding onto the back of Rick’s shirt.

Carol jerked in the direction of the first scream, looking out to see three walkers ripping into the tent where Ed was screaming for help before she picked Sophia up and darted to the Winnebago right after Lori and Carl. Merle’s laughter could be heard over the shooting and flashes of light from the gun muzzles.

Sally watched all of it from the top of the city bus.

At least two dozen walkers were bumping against the sides of the cars, their arms grappling for purchase, trying to rip into anything they could. A small hole in the wall had opened up where the Peletier family’s tent had been ripped to shreds.

Don’t forget the recoil , Sally told herself and stood steadfastly on the roof, the metal creaking slightly under her weight. I won’t , she promised herself, and found a walker to aim her sights down on.

She doesn’t know when it stopped--just that for the longest time the only light she had to go off of was the flicker of the campfires and the light of the moon above them. At some point the screams and shooting died out, replaced with the early morning sound of birds and the sun coming up once again.

Sally had gone through four magazines--emptied the clips entirely. She missed more than she hit, but she must’ve still made a decent dent into the walker swarm.

A look over the side of the bus showed that most of the walkers hadn’t gotten past the wall besides a lucky few. They were piled on top of each other, felled one by one.

“Hey…you ready to come down?” Glenn called up to her quietly. His eyes were red rimmed though whether it was from not sleeping or because he was trying not to cry, Sally didn’t know.

“What’s the death count?” Sally asked softly and holstered her handgun after clicking the safety back on. Her wrists and hands stung, and she had a hard time trying to unclench her fingers after gripping the handgun all night like it was a lifeline.

"Five." Glenn swallowed, his voice wobbly.

Chapter 12

Summary:

Sally reunites with a friend after the swarm. There's a funeral to be had and a small Sally/Daryl scene. Sally asks Rick to do a perimeter sweep with her and secrets are revealed.

Notes:

ANND A HAPPY NEW YEAR !! BANG BANG BANG SWOOSH!

I tried so hard to get this out at 12 but I was an hour late.

Anyways, more of a transitionary chapter and on the smaller side as well. I just wanted a cute lil New Years chapter for y'all! This one is 5k so, again, short chapter--since I usually like chapters in the 7-9k range.

Also, well done for those of you that predicted that Sally would say something about the lori/shane/rick situation lol. I actually had three separate scenes typed out where she confronted EACH of them, but I liked Rick's best, so I stuck with that one.

I know I said at a different point that this was supposed to be the chapter where they leave the Quarry but it turns out I'm a yapper and I should start adding more chapters to my outlines unless I wanna be one of those people with like 12k chapters--which for the record, I do not want to be one of the writers. Mostly because I feel like that's harder on the reader when trying to keep a mental timeline of everything going on.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Where’s Amy?” Sally asked quietly when Glenn helped her down from the bus. It took her more effort than it usually would have to grab Glenn’s hands. She missed twice because her hand was shaking so much. Partially from pain, mostly from exhaustion.

“Is she…is she…” One of the five, went unsaid between the two of them. Glenn knocked his shoulder against hers gently once her feet touched the ground and nodded toward one of the tents that had been moved the day prior.

“Over there,” Glenn answered, moving away to put a pair of gloves on that he had taken from his back pocket. He left her to help move some of the walker bodies into a growing pile they were preparing to torch.

“Hey,” Sally called softly to him, and briefly wondered why her own voice sounded so far away from herself. “Don’t forget to—“

“—check the bodies.” Glenn choked out and turned to acknowledge her. “Yeah. T-dog’s on it.” He jerked his chin in a random direction that Sally assumed T-dog was in before he went back to dragging walker corpses away from the car-barricade.

“Sally?” Amy’s voice called out, her voice ringing in Sally’s head.

Amy?

“Amy?” Sally repeated under her breath, turning away from the pile of corpses and back toward the firepit.

Amy stood partway between the pit being used to boil water for morning coffee and between the tents that had been sectioned away. There were dark circles under her eyes, her lips chapped, and her long blonde hair was tied in a low bun.

A small revolver was holstered on her hip. Her normally pristine white skinny jeans were mucked up with dirt and specks of dried blood, like she had rolled around on the ground a few times before getting back up and going on with her life.

She was dirty, but there wasn’t a scratch on her.

“Oh my God,” Sally mumbled, meeting Amy in the middle when she had moved forward to greet her. They collided, wrapping their arms around each other and crumbling.

“You’re alive. You’re alive.” Sally couldn’t help but mumble into Amy’s shoulder. All she could do was squeeze the blonde tighter.

“Jesus, Sal, you’re shivering,” Amy noted with shock, pulling back briefly to look the red head up and down. “It’s not like you got bit, right? No way you could’ve—you were on the bus all night.” She said, more so to herself than to Sally.

“You’re not bit?” Sally asked quietly, looking Amy over. She couldn’t stop seeing the dead Amy—the one that Andrea had cradled throughout the night, blood coating her shoulders and neck like a scarlet shawl.

“No way—not when you and Burt were there.” Amy said off-handedly, pulling away from the hug and leading Sally to one of the ripped-out car seats near the firepit.

She settled Sally on one of the cushions before taking the space next to her, relaxing against the back with a small groan. “It was totally crazy!” She started to say but kept her voice down to not disturb the people moving around them. “I took down a walker—all on my own too! Of course, it took, like, six shots to finally hit it in the head, and I didn’t have extra bullets on me. But I got one.” Amy said in a self-assured manner, her lips quirked up before falling down again.

“Burt was helping for a while, but his gun ended up jamming halfway through. I thought we were goners—especially when one of the walkers grabbed Burt—but, like, one second we’re about to die and in the next second the thing is dead. Like actually dead, and it’s you standing on the bus and shooting down at us like some weird—but super helpful—gargoyle.” Amy continued and kicked a foot up under her thigh to sit more comfortably.

There was a distant, high pitched ringing in Sally’s ears that she couldn’t tell if it was an after effect from the shooting, or if it was because she was dehydrated. She smacked her lips together, the action feeling foreign to her.

“What happened?” Sally asked again. She didn’t even know that she had saved Amy. Did she save her? Everything felt both too big and too small at the same time. She wouldn't be surprised if her sternum was bruised from how hard her heart was beating against it.

Amy frowned, tilting her head to the side. “You alright there?”

For whatever reason Sally couldn’t find her voice, so she nodded instead. The action made her stomach flip.

“Here, sweetheart,” a steaming mug was placed in Sally’s line of sight. “This’ll help.” A tanned and dark-haired woman settled a mug between Sally’s hands, tipping it up gently to help her take the first sip.

“What?” Sally asked again, forcing herself to blink though it only made it harder for her to catch a breath. She looked up at the woman again—her face was familiar around the camp but Sally had never personally spoken to her. Trying to remember her face was like trying to drive through mud. Eventually Sally could place the woman's face--she was one of the few latrines digging people.

“Thelma,” the woman—Thelma—introduced herself with a smile before it fell. “I don’t normally help with the cooking but we’re a bit short handed at the moment.” She nodded toward the left and it took Sally eons to twist her head just enough to see what the woman was looking at.

Near the Winnebago, Daryl stood off to the side, watching with a controlled expression while Carol swung a pickaxe down, over and over again, into the skull of her dead husband. Tears streamed down her face until she finally dropped the pickaxe, crumpled to the ground and wept into her hands.

Further away from her, though not weeping any less, was Miranda Morales. She cradled her husband's body in her arms, his face and chest punctured and ripped apart. She rocked back and forth, her tears dripping onto his cheeks before sliding down. She moaned and cried, and it took Sally far too long to realize she was crying in different languages.

Eliza and Louis sat across from her—Eliza crying into her father's shoulder and Louis laying perfectly still, his head on Morales’s lap while he held his father's hand and used it to stroke his hair, as if it were Juan lovingly touching his sons head instead of Louis holding his limp wrist.

The scene made Sally’s stomach lurch, so she turned away from it.

“You should finish that,” Thelma said gently. “It’ll help.” Then she turned to leave, standing next to the firepit and exchanged cooking pots with Jacqui.

“Drink.” Amy commanded, firmly but gently. She pushed the mug to Sally’s lips, politely ignoring how clammy Sally’s hands had gotten. “You were up there a while,” she said to Sally, eyes glancing toward the bus before looking back down.

Amy talked, filling the small space between them with sometimes inane comments, a few funny stories that involved trying to catch a cheating boyfriend in college by crossdressing and pretending to be his Big Brother so he would admit to cheating. She talked about her favorite ice cream and how much she craved it because of the heat. She moaned about some boy band that Sally hadn’t heard of--but assumed they were this universe’s equivalent to One Direction--and how she wished she could’ve seen them live before the apocalypse happened.

At some point, she nodded off after finishing her mug of tea.

Sally didn't know how long she had fallen asleep for. It could’ve been minutes or maybe an hour, hell it could have been three.

All she was aware of was the sound of raised voices that jolted her from her sleep. She tipped forward and blearily noticed that one of Amy’s throw blankets had fallen from her lap that hadn't been there before she fell asleep. She briefly wondered if Amy had thrown the blanket over her while she was out of it. Sally picked it up quickly and hoped that it hadn’t gotten too dirty from the scant seconds it had been on the ground--she shook it a few times after picking it up, just in case.

“What’s goin’ on?” Sally mumbled, wiping at her mouth with the inside of her wrist and looking over to Amy who had stood up to watch something.

“Glenn and Daryl are fighting about something.” Amy said and Sally was immediately on her feet, any sense of tiredness long forgotten from hearing their names.

“What? Why?” Since when did those two ever get into a row with each other? And if Daryl was pissed off about something enough to fight with Glenn over it then where was his older brother? “Where’s Merle?”

Amy scoffed derisively. “Probably off in his tent smoking something like usual. Not like he would ever help us.” She said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“He helps a lot,” Sally frowned to herself and moved to get up. Her ankles and back popped with the movement. “Besides, he just got back from Atlanta after being handcuffed to a roof. I don’t blame him for not staying to help.” Sally herself had also just gotten back from Atlanta, and she would kill to fall asleep in the back of her truck at the moment.

“Of course not,” Amy snorted under her breath before shaking her head to herself. “You wouldn’t get it.” Amy glanced away from the center of camp to meet Sally’s eyes. “I’m gonna go find Andrea.”

And then she was off to look for her sister, her arm occasionally brushing against the grip of the revolver. The same arm that would have been bit to shreds--that had been bit to shreds originally.

Sally sighed to herself when voices were raised again and stood to see what was going on.

“NO!” Glenn yelled and Sally looked over to see he was valiantly trying not to cry. “Our people go over there--” he pointed to the opposite side of Dale’s Winnebago, where Carol was crumpled next to a body with a white sheet over it. “--we don’t burn our people. We bury them.”

“Wha’s the difference? They’re all infected.” Daryl scowled at him, dropping the legs of the body he was holding to stand taller. The man that had been also holding the body with Daryl careened forward and yelped slightly when the weight dropped.

“Ourpeople go over there…We don’t burn them!” Glenn’s bottom lip wobbled; unshed tears collected in the corners of his furrowed eyes.

“Dead is dead Short-round--don’ make no difference where ya put ‘em!” Daryl argued back, swiping his forearm across his sweatlicked forehead.

“Glenn…” Sally interjected, distantly aware of the way some of the people were looking at the two men with various faces of exhaustion.

“Sally,” Glenn choked out and looked away from Daryl to her. “We bury our people.” His dark eyes flickered back and forth between her own, looking for something though Sally didn’t know what.

Sally stepped closer to him, hoping that the closed distance would help him feel more listened too. “Glenn…” she started to say, and he ducked his chin so the cap covered his face. The only reason Sally could see his heartbroken expression was because she was an arm's length away and she could look up at him. “It would be dangerous to bury them. It’d be unsanitary.”

She tried to reason with him. She said something about there being dozens of cultures and societies throughout history that believed in burning their dead instead of burying, but he wouldn’t listen to it. She even tried to ask what if someone got scratched while moving the bodies and they got infected--all he did was shake his head and mumble no.

“Alright,” Sally whispered quietly to him, and she squeezed one of his hands to reassure him before stepping back. “Alright.” she repeated louder for the other to hear.

“We’re buryin’ them?” Daryl scowled down at her, looking incensed about the whole thing. “He jus’ blubbers like somes goddamned baby an’ now we gotta go along with it?”

Under her breath, Sally mumbled to Daryl, “tell you later,” but to the others who were watching she said, “Even ants bury their dead. Only right that we do too.”

Sally tilted her head to the side, glancing toward the line of cars parked bumper-to-bumper before looking back to Daryl to see if he got the message.

He glanced from her to the cars then around the camp and something must have pissed him off because he scoffed and walked in the direction she waved toward but not before angrily spitting over his shoulder, “Ya reap what you sow!”

“Y’all left them’s for dead--ya had this coming!” He spat out, his nose wrinkled up in annoyance when he jerked a thumb in Sally’s direction and the direction of the tent he shared with his brother before stalking off.

Sally sighed under her breath but followed the agitated hunter, nonetheless. It'd be awfully rude of her to not follow when she was the one who asked to talk in the first place.

“The hell ya want?” Daryl asked her once she had made it over to him. He paced back and forth in the small, confined space like a pissed-off street cat with its fur raised, constantly looking between Sally and the others who were dragging corpses into the to-be-burned pile.

“I know this is annoying,” Sally started gently. If it was up to her, she wouldn't be having them deal with this at all--burn them and be done with it. Or better yet just pack up and leave and not bother with it at all. But these people didn’t work like that and while Sally hadn’t been personally close to the ones who died, she wasn’t callous enough to outwardly object against their loved ones getting something that even remotely resembled a funeral for them.

This was their first taste of the actual apocalypse. Sally couldn’t fault them for wanting to hold onto something that made them feel just a bit more human.

“Glenn wasn’t saying that to annoy you or anything like that,” Sally explained and from the look on Daryl’s face he seemed to be doubting her words. “I think he feels responsible for this--directly or indirectly--it doesn’t matter.”

She hadn’t been certain at first--before she had spoken with Glenn, she thought it might have been survivors' guilt or just his pure goodness as a human being which he had in spades--but after talking with him she was sure it was because he felt guilty. He was the one that drove the car all the way back to camp with the car alarm acting as a lure for the walkers to go after. It also probably didn't help his conscience that the day before the whole camp had gotten into a fight about it with a few of the older campers pointing fingers at his face.

“So, he cries an’ ya come runnin’? Jus’ like that?” Daryl asked, sounding less than impressed with the whole conversation. Sally counted it as a win in her books though because at least he had stopped pacing like a wild cat and was instead content to stand there wiping grime and muck off his hands with a red bandana.

“He’s my friend and he’s family. Of course I want to help make him feel better. I’d do the same for you or your brother.” Sally said and quietly kept the opinion to herself that she had already done similar for his brother in Atlanta.

Daryl blinked as if he was processing her words and then looked down at her with an expression that she couldn’t place.

“Ya tryna fuck Merle?”

“Jesus Christ on a polka-dot covered stick, no.”Sally wheezed and whipped her head around to look at him and hope she heard him wrong. “Absolutely not.” Sally wanted to fuck Daryl, but she’d rather swallow live goldfish before she ever said that to Daryl himself. She didn’t think she could take the heartbreak if he flat out rejected her to her face. It was better to make sure that crush of hers was never given the light of day.

“Why tha’ hell you care then?” he sniffed, swiping at the underside of his nose with the back of his hand.

“Because we’re family.” Sally answered and then hastily swept her arm in a long arc around the camp so that he didn’t think she was being too forward and only talking about the two of them.

“This ain’t no family,” Daryl grumbled at her, sounding offended just by the suggestion.

“Maybe it doesn’t feel like that right now,” she conceded softly. “But it will, if you give it time.”

Daryl shook his head to himself, giving her a look like he was weighing her words right in front of her. Then he mumbled something under his breath that she couldn’t make out and stalked away to finish dragging walker-corpses to the fire.

The funeral took an hour.

Merle laughed in Sally’s face when she told him they wanted to do a funeral for the ones who died before he closed the bus’s double doors and kicked his feet up on the dash with another beer in hand. He had point blank told her that he couldn’t give a stripper’s ass what the rest of them did and if Sally tried to make him go for some show of camaraderie then he would piss on their graves.

Sally then told him she wouldn’t ever make him do something that he was uncomfortable with which made him give her a funny look before he stared out the window with a contemplative furrow set to his brows.

She knew the end of a conversation when she saw one, so she left Merle alone to his thoughts while she hiked up the hill behind Daryl’s truck. Occasionally she brushed the back of her hand against Glenn’s--who had taken his ball cap off and had been anxiously fidgeting with it the entire walk up to the clearing--just in case he needed a reminder that they were there. He didn’t say anything about it, too wrapped up inside his own head.

Sally was mostly just happy with the fact that he was wringing his cap between his hands instead of picking at his cuticles or nails. Sally didn’t even want to think about how much bacteria and germs were under his nails and hands from moving bodies the entire morning. The last thing they needed was a possible infection from any of that stuff getting into a cut.

They came up on the tail end of Daryl, Rick, and Shane’s conversation.

Beside her, Glenn flipped his faded red cap back on and dug a pair of black gloves out of his pocket, struggling to pull them on.

“--Korean kid gets all emotional--says it’s not tha’ thang to do, we jus’ follow ‘em along?” Daryl questioned.

When he didn’t get a rise out of Rick, Daryl looked to Shane, squinting under the harsh sun. “People need to know who tha’ hell’s in charge here--what the rules are.”

Shane wiped at his forehead, standing at the edge of one of the graves Jim had dug the day before, “It’s not gonna be your brother that's for sure,” Shane muttered and glanced down the hill where their camp was.

“There are no rules,” Rick drawled, and pulled himself out of one of the graves before he rubbed his palms together to wipe the excess dirt off of them.

Lori cut in quickly, “Well that’s a problem.” She shook her head, holding onto one of Carl’s hands before she placed the other on Miranda’s tanned shoulder when she made it to the top of the hill. “We haven’t had one minute to hold onto anything of our old selves. We need time to mourn,” She inhaled deeply, her voice wobbly but strong. “We need time to bury our dead.”

Her words sent Miranda and her children into another crying fit, the three of them silently choking on their sobs while staring down one of the bodies wrapped in blue sheets, hanging out of the back of Daryl’s truck.

Sally stood back, quietly watching people carry bodies from the truck and dropping them into graves. Since only five people had died, they used the graves Jim had dug before Shane had knocked him out and tied him to a tree before he felt better.

The first sheet covered body was Thelma’s uncle, Chester, who had accidentally shot and killed himself because he had taken one of the guns that Rick handed out to protect the camp. From the side, Jim had spoken up about seeing the man try to reload his pistol and looked directly into the barrel to see if the chamber was jammed before accidentally pulling the trigger.

The second body was Carol’s husband and Sally had to hold a hand over her mouth and push almost hard enough to bruise to keep from opening her mouth about the man. He was dead, what more could they ask for?

Jan was the next person buried. She was an older woman with bleached white-blonde hair and sun-bleached skin from sitting out in the sun and visiting sun tanning booths all her life. She didn’t believe in sunscreen and the only conversation Sally had ever had with her was when she made fun of Sally for spraying herself with sunblock. Her widowed husband and daughter buried her.

The second to last was a man that Sally didn’t know but recognized him by the shoes that poked out from the sheet he was wrapped in. Dale talked about him while Glenn, Shane, and Rick buried him, their shovels making a chink -ing noise every time it hit the dirt. Dale called him Orlando--he was one of the first to start manning guard duty from the top of the Winnebago.

The last to be buried was Juan Morales and that was only after Lori spoke with Miranda and convinced her to bury the body here instead of trying to transport it all the way to Birmingham where her family was.

“Don’t!” She snapped when Rick moved to help her with the body. Eliza and Louis stayed close to their mother, pulling at the sheet where they could to help drag their father’s corpse to the last grave. “He is my husband.”

Rick showed her his open palms and backed away slowly, “Alright.” He drawled softly, his voice hardly above a whisper.

Between choked sobs, Miranda spoke with her head tipped back, “Leave us. He is my husband--and my children’s father. We’ll bury--” her strength cracked, another sob breaking its way out of her.

Lori and Carol stepped forward at the same time to console her, Lori holding her close while Carol rubbed her back in soothing strokes.

A minute passed before Miranda pushed the two of them away gently. “This is my family--I don’t want these people watching while I bury my husband.”

Lori looked over her shoulder and sniffled while a stray tear fell down her cheek. She made eye contact with Rick, a silent conversation passing between the two of them before he looked down and to the side, clasping a hand over Carl’s shoulder.

“Of course, Miranda,” Rick murmured, then looked out to the rest of the group. “Come on,” he tilted his head, motioning for them to follow back to camp.

Lori walked back over after one last hug with Miranda, entwining her fingers between Rick’s and brushed Carl’s dark hair out of his eyes. “Carol?” she asked.

But the shorthaired woman stayed where she was, smiling gently at Lori with a shake of her head. “I’m burying my husband too.” she called back, voice gentle and raw. Sophia stood beside her, fisting a hand into her mother's shirt and idly watched a small beetle crawl over her shoe.

They hadn’t even fully gotten down the hill yet before Sally had walked up to the Grimes family (plus one slightly disgruntled Shane when he noticed her approaching).

“Rick,” Sally addressed while squinting up at him. The sun was up high and bright by then and it was completely unsympathetic to people with sensitive eyes.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait, Sally.” Shane grunted.

“I didn’t come over to start a row with you, Shane,” Sally said and tilted her head to the side. She wanted to speak with Rick--without either Lori or Shane getting in the way. Since he had come to camp he had been pretty amenable and Sally wanted to strike while the fire was still hot.

“What is it, Sally?” Rick asked before he gave a quick peck to the back of Lori’s hand.

“I’d like to do a sweep with you,” Sally said kindly, taking extra care to keep the overtly friendly smile on her face. Shane looked unamused by it, ready to call her out on whatever new tactic she had up her sleeve, but Sally spoke before he could. “Oh, Lori--Jacqui mentioned she needed your help with something.”

“Did she mention what it was?” Lori asked, sharing a glance with Rick before looking over Sally’s head where Jacqui was talking with another, much older black woman who had introduced herself as Steph to Sally on her second day in camp.

“Something about food and Thelma?” Sally cringed. She didn’t mean to throw Thelma and whatever food skills she had under the bus but by the way Lori sighed heavily, it made Sally glad she chose that.

“I’ll see you after?” Lori asked with a gentle gaze directed toward her husband, never looking in Shane’s direction even once.

Sally kept her expression neutral, or at least as neutral as she could, during the display of affection between the two of them.

“If that’s what you want,” Rick drawled, motioning toward the green tree line with one hand. “May I ask why?”

Sally couldn’t keep the grin from forming. She loved Daryl to bits and pieces, but Rick’s little southern drawl was adorable. Not to mention that he just looked so young without the future years of trauma heaped on him.

“Well, everyone else has gotten to hang out with the new guy,” she said, and Rick nodded with a raised brow, “So, you want too as well?” he concluded.

“Bingo!” Sally formed an O-K sign with her fingers and flicked it between the two of them before dropping it. Sally kept pace with him through the thicket of trees and green shrubbery but she noticed that he had slowed down to more of a meander so she could comfortably keep up with him.

Sally killed a few minutes of time, talking about random things with him that he respectfully answered or chimed in with an anecdote of his own but for the most part he just let her talk while he listened. See, Shane? Amenable,Sally couldn’t help but think to herself.

“I’m guessing you didn’t ask me to come out here with you because you wanted to do a sweep,” he started conversationally and turned on his heel so he was facing her. He kept the shotgun in an unready position, cradled it between his arms with the barrel pointed away from them.

“What made you come to that conclusion?” Sally asked, brows raised expectantly.

He gave a halfhearted wave to her side. “Haven’t unholstered your gun--much less touched it.”

Out of everything Sally thought he was going to say to her--that hadn’t been it. She laughed, more out of surprise than because she thought it was funny. “How observant of you.” she remarked.

He shrugged politely--not taking it as a compliment but rather a stated fact. “Comes with the job,” he glanced away before looking back at her. “Camewith the job,” he corrected.

Sally thought for a moment about if she wanted to tease him, like she sometimes teased Glenn. Rick was just so polite and southern--a part of her wanted to see if she could rile him up, maybe even push him out of his comfort zone. In the end she decided not to--she didn’t think it would be very empathetic to play around with him like that, especially when all their interactions thus far had been in a group setting. (notto mention what if he thought she was flirting with him? Daryl already asked if she wanted to fuck Merle --her heart wouldn’t be able to handle it if the hunter started asking the same questions in regard to Rick.)

“It’s about Shane,” she hedged, testing the waters with him. Idly, she flicked a few stray pieces of lint from her shirt.

“Thought that might be it,” Rick acknowledged. “I’ve been wondering about that, since I got to camp.”

“What? You mean to tell me that Shane hasn’t told you how much of an awful bitch I am since the second you stepped into camp?” Sally rubbed at one of her shoulders, trying to rub a couple kinks out before giving up entirely when her fingers accidentally pressed the bruise she had gotten from the gun bag and a sting of pain shot through her back from it. “Color me surprised.”

“He hasn’t said much--”

Sally pursed her lips together to keep from saying something snarky. Everyone and their grandmother knew that was a polite way of saying that a person has been shit talked to hell and back.

“--what do you have to say on the matter?”

“Well, for starters,” Sally shifted her weight from one leg to another, “while I agree that Shane and I aren’t exactly buddy-buddy with each other--that’s not what I wanted to say.” Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips, mouth suddenly dry and the earlier confidence she had at the beginning of the conversation nowhere to be found.

That seemed to have thrown Rick for a loop because he frowned, a shadow setting over his brilliant blue eyes as he looked behind them towards the camp like he could see it through all the greenery.

“Then what did you want to say?” Rick asked, his words laced with confusion.

“That Lori and Shane have been hooking up behind your back.” Sally said softly. Gently. She had thought for weeks how to say this, how to bring this entire conversation up. She didn’t want to crucify Lori to her husband--Sally understood why the woman did what she had. She thought her husband was dead, they were dealing with the start of the zombie apocalypse--she wanted protection. Security. Stability. She wanted to feel safe with Carl.

Sally understood the reasons--Hell plenty of people have done worse for less. But Sally didn’t want their drama to impact the group like it had originally. She hoped that if Rick was aware of it sooner--saw the actions and the hidden words faster than he had the first time--that there wouldn’t be such a massive falling out.

Sally’s reasoning was selfish, she knew that. There was safety in numbers, and she respected Shane for his skill and contributions to the group. If things were going to be different (and they already were different--Jim and Amy alive,only five people dead), then the changes had to start now.

If they could keep Shane from falling out--from going off that final diving board--then it was one more competent fighter against the governor, one more person to stand between them and the Saviors. One more person to help plant food to harvest for the future. One more person to sit at the dinner table and crack jokes with the rest of them.

A muscle in his jaw jumped.

Rick inhaled harshly, shoving his knuckles against his lips so hard that they turned white.

Sally stayed perfectly quiet while he turned her words over in his head, over and over again until finally he looked up at her, his head cocked to the side.

“Why’d you tell me this?” He asked, voice raw with emotion.

The answer was easy.

“Because I’d hope somebody might do the same for me, if I was ever in that position.”

Notes:

ALSO, what do y'all think Sally/Daryl's ship name would be?

(yes, I ABSOLUTELY am being self-indulgent right now.)

HAPPY NEW YEAR RAHHH

Chapter 13

Summary:

The group talks about the C.D.C. Daryl takes a look at Sally's truck before they leave. Carol and Sally have a nice chat.

Someone arrives at the camp.

The Season 1 finale is almost here.

Notes:

hello, hello.

I'm not super happy with this chapter--the pacing feels really bad but if I look at it anymore then my eyes are going to fall out. Just a reminder this is not Beta read--I try to edit it myself but there'll always be something I miss so if you see something, give me a holler. (If not, I usually try to read back through the chapters in a couple days to look at it with fresh eyes and do another edit.)

I have SO MUCH planned for s2 and s3, I feel like a horse trying to get back to the barn, but I have to keep forcing myself to stay steady and not get barn sour--although probably more writing sour in this case lmfao--

TRIGGER WARNINGS: not much--Ed is mentioned in Sally/Carol's talk. Thoughts of DV.

No updates for now, so Enjoy! <3

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

She had never regretted a conversation faster in her life. Never had she felt the need to nope out of a conversation than when Rick’s love life was the topic.

“Sorry,” she mumbled gently, almost afraid that if she spoke any louder, it would shatter the silence between them.

Alright, well, that’s enough of that, Sally couldn’t help but think to herself, leaving the tree line to go back to the camp. She didn’t hear Rick follow behind her though she didn’t expect him to. She didn’t blame the guy for needing some alone time--sort out his thoughts, his feelings, hell maybe even look back on all his past interactions with Lori and Shane to see if he missed something.

“What was that about?” Oh, speak of the devil and he shall appear…

“What are you talking about?” Sally exhaled and glanced at Shane from the corner of her eye.

He dogged her steps all the way to the parked bus, almost accidentally stepping on her toes twice. Originally Sally wanted to go lay down in her bed before remembering she still had four empty Beretta magazines in her pockets that she needed to return to the bus--as well as reload the handgun so she wasn’t walking around with a gun that was only good for show. The sooner she got used to the handgun's weight, the easier it would be.

“Nah, don’t give me that--you know exactly what I’m talking about.” Shane muttered under his breath to her, consistently glancing back and forth between their conversation and the tree line where Rick was yet to appear.

“I had a talk with Rick and then decided to come back early,” Sally said earnestly, hoping her face didn’t give away how awkward she still felt after dropping such a truth bomb.

A brief glance toward the open bus doors showed Merle had stood up from his seat when Shane had come closer to her and Sally quietly waved him off with a hand and a brief amount of eye contact.

Merle glared at being silently told to basically stay put but he did it, leaning his shoulder against one of the double doors while staring Shane and her down with an intent look in his eye. Sally made a mental note to herself to thank him later for not getting involved immediately.

Shane and Merle had just fought the day before--the wounds and blood between them was still fresh. Not to mention that Merle hadn’t gone to the funeral that morning, nor had he helped with any of the clean up around camp after the walker swarm during the night. Putting Shane and Merle within ten feet of each other would do nothing but make the tension between them even more contentious. Having them in the same conversation was just asking for them to get into another fistfight again. And If Merle started to fight then Daryl would come to have his back regardless of who threw the first punch.

Sally didn’t know if Rick would have Shane’s back in a fistfight after their talk, but she had a feeling that muscle memory would kick in since the two were childhood best friends or something like that.

“That’s it?” Shane scoffed, moving his hands to his hips and leaning down slightly to look her in the eye. “I think you’re bullshitting me, Sally--”

Out of the corner of her eye Sally could see Merle tense up and she got the feeling if this conversation wasn’t over soon then Merle would end it his way.

“We talked about going to the C.D.C--” Sally leaned around Shane to look at Rick who had, in a true main character fashion, come out of the tree line with the shotgun pressed against his shoulder, “--right, Rick?”

Rick tilted his head at her, gaze lingering on Shane who stood in front of her.

“That’s right,” he agreed conversationally with a head dip.

Sally turned back to Shane. “See?” she said with a closed lip smile, beyond grateful that Rick had gone along with her words instead of calling her out for lying.

Shane rolled his neck until a popping sound came from it and pulled a pair of work gloves off his hands and jammed them into his pockets. “Can’t you give these people even a day to mourn before you start spouting things?”

“We can have a group meeting about it,” Sally replied neutrally to him before calling Merle over with a jerk of her chin.

“Gettin’ awfully close there, Angel,” he said, the moment he was within talking distance to her.

Sally was just thankful Shane had left to go harass Rick about going to the C.D.C instead of her.

“I’m not even going to try and make sense of that,” Sally said with a roll of her eyes and rubbed small circles into her temples, so she didn’t start getting a headache. This had all been far, far too much talking and action without a good night of rest in between.

“I need to find Glenn— “

“Whaddya want with tha’ Korean brat?” Merle huffed.

“Maps and phone books.” Sally stated plainly. “Did Daryl go hunting?”

A slow, amused smile spread across Merle’s cheeks that made Sally wonder if she said something wrong.

“Ya worried he gone an' went on a romantic stroll through tha’ woods without ya?” Merle waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, flicking his tongue across his lips in a way that made Sally scowl at him.

“A simple yes or no answer would do. Not whatever… that was.” Her upper lip curled in disgust at the display. Merle got himself a good chuckle out of the moment so Sally left before he could say—or do—anything more graphic.

She found Glenn hanging out with T-dog, one of the van doors slid wide open. T-dog leaned back in one of the camping chairs, but Glenn was sitting on the edge of the van, rubbing his back against the passenger seat as if he was using it as an improvised back massage.

“Oh, hey,” Glenn greeted first. T-dog turned slightly in his seat, nodded as a greeting and then went back to their card game.

“Old Maid,” T-dog explained without her asking and pulled an empty chair closer with his toes. “You up for it?”

Sally exhaled loudly through her nose from amusement. “Nah,” she bumped her hip against the side of T-dog’s chair, however, silently thanking him for the invitation. “Glenn, I need the maps and phone books we found.”

Glenn looked up in confusion. “What--why?”

In response, Sally nodded toward one of the park benches that didn’t have anything on it. “Group meeting--that shootout last night will be drawing more walkers to the camp. I vote to leave so we don’t have to bury anybody else.”

Glenn paled at her words, the cards dropped and forgotten. T-dog fisted the cards in his palm, the material folding and bending from the pressure. It was unlikely that he would ever be able to fix them.

“When do we get a damn break?” He muttered under his breath with a faraway look in his eyes.

“Soon,” Sally said, “hopefully.” She added on because she worried that her first answer might’ve sounded too confident.

It took around seven minutes for (mostly) everyone to meet around the picnic bench that Glenn had set down some of the road maps he had found, as well as the phone books scooted off to the corner, acting as a paperweight so the maps wouldn’t lift up.

Andrea, Dale, and Amy had come over (with Amy showing Sally the new necklace her sister had gotten her for her birthday which reminded Sally that she needed to give the books to Amy that she had looted from Atlanta) while Jim did guard duty from the Winnebago.

“What’s this about?” Lori was the first to ask, hands tucked in her jeans back pockets. The ends of her hair fluttered lightly from the small breeze before falling back down.

Merle had popped up to the side of the table with a newly opened bottle of beer and gave a sharp whistle that made Sally’s ears ring. When she scowled up at him in annoyance, all he did was offer her a sly smirk and jerked a finger across the table.

Sally followed the direction he was pointing at to note Daryl, the Morales family, Carol, and Sophia making their way down the hill. Daryl had looked up at the whistle and Sally figured that Merle had been calling him over and by proxy calling the others over too.

“Sal?” Glenn hedged, arms crossed over his chest and hands tucked under his elbows.

Sally smiled slightly--she didn’t think Merle knew it, but he had actually just given her a perfect segue way into what she wanted to talk about. “Earlier this morning Daryl talked about us needing a plan--” said man looked up at the mention of his name, eyebrows heavily furrowed from the sun overhead, “--well, here’s one: we go to the C.D.C.”

She tapped the map with a French tip painted fingernail and because she didn’t know where the C.D.C was on the map, she circled a wide area around Atlanta that encompassed the rock Quarry they were holed up in, as well as some other cities and towns around the area.

“That is a bad idea,” Shane stated plainly. Dale and a few of the older campers who had lived through the night agreed with him, shaking their heads at the idea of leaving.

“What is all this talk about leaving?” Dale questioned, scratching at his white beard. “We just finished burying our dead--” he started to say.

“An’ ya gonna keep buryin’ ‘em if ya stay here,” Merle interjected bluntly. He nursed his beer, then puckered his lips, “Didn’ know you were into tha’.” Merle snickered to himself.

So many spoke up, instantly lashing out at his words that Sally didn’t even know who said what. It was just a giant mess of yelling, flipping each other off, and maybe some crying.

“Enough. We can have a calm discussion over this,” Rick broke through the noise and agitated crowd of campers to place his hand on the map. “I heard the C.D.C was working on a cure.”

“Yeah, I heard that too.” Shane replied and pulled his ball cap off, holding it between his ribs and arm. “Heard a lot of things before the world went to hell.”

“Alright, let's get one thing straight here. There is no cure.” Sally said, pursing her lips so hard it hurt. “And there’s not going to ever be a cure.” If Sally could come to terms with waking up in the past, in a different dimension and dealing with a zombie apocalypse--then they could deal with there not being a cure.

“Really selling us on this idea to go to the C.D.C, aren’t you.” Burt piped up sarcastically.

Rick put his hands on his hips, kicked his heel into the dirt in thought before looking up again. “Even if what Sally said is true--it’ll still be up and running.”

“Man, that is a stretch right there.” Shane drawled in a bored voice, chewing on his bottom lip.

Rick’s jaw twitched, a muscle in his cheek jumping. He tilted his head to the side slowly like he was thinking something over and occasionally his gaze would land on the gap of space between Lori and him.

Sally spoke up to take the attention off of Rick. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she got the feeling that he was going over their earlier conversation in his head again and she didn’t know if Shane was becoming an extra stressor to Rick’s mental state at the moment.

Off to the side, Sally noted Daryl making small, aborted movements, like he wanted to pace but instead had to settle on staying still. He chewed on the inside of his bottom lip in a thoughtful manner--or maybe it was anxious. Sally couldn’t quite tell yet, she just knew she had never seen him do the action before, when she could get him to go on walks with her.

“No, it’s not.” She said and shifted her weight to her other leg. “The C.D.C is built to withstand things a lot stronger than a swarm of walkers--that’s where we need to be.”

“Care to share with the rest of us what you think those things are?” Lori asked quietly. “I’d like to know what makes you so confident about this--I’m sure everyone else would too.”

“It would certainly make me feel better to know what you think is worth risking our lives for on the road,” one of the older campers muttered.

“EMP’s. Terrorist attacks. Nuclear warfare.” Sally listed them off one by one with her fingers. “The point is it's built to last months off the grid--” well, that was a bit of an exaggeration, but no one needed to know that except her, “--It’ll be stocked with food. Fuel. Its own water source.”

That was also an exaggeration, but they weren’t on a need-to-know basis.

“In case you haven’t noticed, we already have our own water source.” Shane said, waving a hand behind him at the sparkling Quarry Lake. “We do not need to leave and pointlessly risk lives on some half-assed plan.”

“We’re safe here,” Andrea said lightly.

Daryl scoffed. “Yeah, ‘cause five people dead from walkers is safe innit.” He wiped at the corners of his mouth with a red bandana, looking annoyed by the entire conversation.

“We can get more cars,” Andrea tried again. “Have more people on guard rotation, string up some more cans, then.” She looked around at their faces to see if the idea had merit.

Rick cut in again, emphasizing his points by slapping one hand into the palm of his other hand. Everybody talked, everyone spoke up about what they thought was a good idea or a bad one. Most people were terrified. Merle got more than a few zingers in at all of them that derailed the discussion. Glenn and Rick did their best to get back on topic but with more people in camp it meant more people talking over one another.

“The C.D.C has hot water.” Sally said when there was a brief lull in the meeting when everyone had taken a breath at the same time.

“...What?”

Well, at least she had finally gotten their attention.

“When was the last time any of you took a shower with hot water?” Sally asked quietly.

She only felt a little vindicated that her question was met with stunned silence as they all processed her words.

“AC? Indoor plumbing?” She continued on, acting like she hadn’t taken note of the way they all fell quiet. Some people even groaned out loud from the thought.

“How do you know that?” T-dog asked seriously.

“Took a tour with my mom once,” Sally shrugged a shoulder halfheartedly, hoping they took the jerky movement as a blasé attitude instead of the anxious twitch that it really was. The unspoken through a TV screen, stayed in the safety of Sally’s mind.

“Is it weird that my mouth is watering just thinking about it?” Amy asked with a groan, biting down on her bottom lip to keep from grinning at the thought. The question broke the tension between the group members, some people chuckling, others having a full belly laugh with tears streaming down their cheeks from the absurdity of it.

“All in favor?” Rick asked, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips as Carl talked about all the times he dreamed about getting to take a shower again.

Majority of hands went up--even Merle made an aborted movement of waving his hand before turning it into the bird to flip Shane and the dissenters off, respectively.

“Great,” Sally smiled politely. “We leave in five hours--that should give people enough time to pack up.”

“Woah now, we already agreed to go--no reason to speed this up, is there?” Dale asked, confused. He turned to look at the other people who had moved away from the picnic table and then to Shane and Rick.

“The shooting last night will bring more walkers.” Glenn said faintly, repeating some of Sally’s words that she had said before the meeting to him.

“That’s what the cars are for!” Dale cried, waving his hands toward the barricade.

“Just do it, Dale.” Andrea chimed in with a sigh. Dale shared a meaningful look with her before slowly nodding to show his acceptance of the plan. Amy snorted at the display before quickly sitting up to help her sister pack.

Shane made a noise like he was going to disagree with the time Sally had given but a glance over at Rick's shuttered expression had him furrowing his brow instead.

“I suppose it's time to start packing then,” Carol said gently with a small smile that was tinged with sadness. She brushed her fingers through Sophia’s hair and the young girl wrapped her arms around her mother in a hug, her chin tucked into her collar.

Out of all people to agree and speak up about the plan--speak up at all, really--Carol was the last person that Sally would have picked.

Some people grumbled, others mumbled, but there was a general affirmative of some sort. Amy and Andrea followed Dale to his RV. Glenn and T-dog meandered over to the church van to put the card game away. Jacqui and Thelma had picked up whatever conversation they were having before the meeting was called, walking together back to their tents. Carol offered to pack the Morales family’s things since she and Sophia didn’t have much to pack.

“It’s already packed.” Miranda replied, voice monotone. “We were going to leave tomorrow.” There was a far-off look to her eye as if she saw everything in front of her, but she wasn’t really registering that it was there. “We were going to leave tomorrow.”

Sally swallowed the lump in her throat and turned away from the despondent looking woman. Juan’s death was because of her, she knew that. She knew that. Without thinking about it, Sally pulled a hand up to rub against the base of her neck--the back-and-forth motion comforting her to an extent.

“You comin’ or what?” Daryl asked, his voice piercing through Sally’s thoughts of blaming herself for the Morales family’s current situation.

“What?” Sally jumped, her gaze focusing on the hunter who stood a few feet away looking a mix between irritated and thoughtful.

“You comin’ or nah?” He asked again, taking a half step back to head toward the tent he shared with his brother.

Sally blinked again, temporarily forgetting that they had moved closer to her truck when making the wall of cars. “Right.”

When they got closer to her truck, Daryl spoke up again, “Pop tha’ hood.”

Sally must have made a stupid looking face at that because he frowned and repeated, “Pop tha’ hood.”

She felt like a rock being told to do thermonuclear astrophysics before she blinked the feeling away and opened the driver side door to do as he asked.

And then she ran into a problem.

“Wha’s takin’ ya so damn long,” Daryl grumbled from the front of the truck, irritated.

“Uh,” Sally chuckled nervously. “Hypothetical question for you--” he stepped to the side of the truck to watch her, “--if a person didn’t--”

“Ya don’ know how to.” He finished for her.

“I don't know how to.” She agreed with a small, shameful nod of her head. She moved out of the way, so she wasn’t crowding him while he touched it or did whatever a person normally did to pop the truck's hood open.

He asked about the damage to the truck, why she didn’t say anything about it when she first came back to camp, and she shrugged for lack of an answer before realizing that he couldn’t see her since she was sitting behind the wheel, and he was bent over the engine to see if anything had been tampered with.

“I don’t care what the outside of it looks like as long as everything else works,” Sally answered, her nails scratching absentmindedly at the skin of her neck. And to her that was true--besides what was she going to do; take the truck to a dealership and have them repaint it? Give it a good polish and shine? That just wasn’t realistic, so she didn’t see a reason to get angry over it.

The side mirrors--while cracked--weren’t chipping or falling out so Sally didn’t bother with them either. Besides, if needed, she could always just duct tape a hand mirror up--or she could rip a pair of undamaged side mirrors off a different car and then put them up with some duct tape. But until the mirrors fell out or something else happened, she just didn’t see a reason to do any of that.

Sally didn’t know what to do with the time that she had while Daryl worked whatever mechanical magic he was doing--she had briefly thought about dragging a chair over to sit with him, but he looked vaguely uncomfortable when she tried it. Sally didn’t have a clue why but she backed off to respect his space. Maybe he was one of those guys who wanted to be alone while fixing cars. Maybe it was like an introverting time for him--she could respect that.

But she still didn’t have anything to do--she didn’t need to pack anything up like the others because she always made sure her stuff was in the truck anyways. Especially since she had gone to Atlanta.

In the end, all she did was fold little origami hearts the way a sister-in-law had once taught her, with the sticky notes she had taken from the Quarry office. She whittled away the time doing that.

“Tha’ hell,” Daryl appeared around the door, making absolutely zero noise as if he was a ghost and it scared Sally so bad she jumped. Her knees hit the steering wheel, and her funny bone smacked into the center console at such a perfect angle it made her twitch for a couple seconds.She made a humming noise in the back of her throat and slowly turned to face him.

He wasn’t looking at her but instead at her lap where the folded paper hearts lay in a small pile.

“They’re origami hearts,” Sally explained and the look he gave her for saying the obvious out loud made her want to laugh and simultaneously never show her face around camp again. Her saving grace was that no one else had seen the look he gave her for stating the obvious.

“Here.” Sally mumbled and pulled one of the folded hearts from the pile and held it up to give to the hunter.

“The hell’s tha’ for?” He grunted and shoved the red bandana--that was now dirtied with grease--into his back pocket.

“It’s for you!” Sally said and wondered if she had sounded far too enthusiastic. Maybe she should tone it down a little.

Daryl’s upper lip curled in distaste.

Yeah, she should definitely tone it down.

“I mean, it’s like a thank you…” for being you, was very hastily cut off before she could embarrass the both of them.

Daryl looked at her suspiciously as if he thought the whole thing was a trap and if he touched the heart, she might pull it away at the last second. She didn’t say anything, just waited patiently with a small smile that she was doing her damned best to keep contained to an appropriate level, so she didn’t creep him out.

After what felt like eons to her, Daryl finally grabbed the folded origami heart from her open palm with a grunt. He pocketed the heart at the same time as he explained that the truck was fine--this was, of course, after he said something in mechanic-jargon-talk that had her going a little cross eyed until he repeated it in terms that she would understand.

Almost immediately after, he stalked away to pack up whatever he needed to pack up his things.

Soon enough, the time had come that everyone was packed and ready to go. Daryl would be driving his truck alone since Merle had claimed the bus after outright threatening anyone who tried to go near it. Sally figured it was only a matter of time before someone figured out what was inside the bus, or until Glenn finally spilled because he couldn’t keep the secret. But for the time being, Merle appeared to be a very happy guard dog.

What had thrown Sally for a complete and total loop however, had been when Carol asked to travel with her.

“Uh,” Sally blinked, “I mean sure, I would love the company. I just thought you would be with the Grimes’?” Because she was pretty sure both Carol and her daughter had traveled with the Grimes family--there had been that whole scene about seeing the Grand Canyon together.

“That's a great idea,” Rick piped in, a few cars down from them, “Carl, you and Sophia wanted to ride together, isn’t that right?” he asked, and little Carl bobbed his head up and down.

From his side, Lori pursed her lips together harshly, looking between them all. “If that’s what you want,” she said magnanimously.

“Hey man,” Shane frowned lightly, “Carl can ride with me--” he started to say.

“No, that’s alright,” Rick interrupted, waving a hand like he was waving the offer away. “Go on sit with Sophia, why don’t you.” he said gently, ruffling Carl’s dark head of hair.

Sally shared a look with Rick over his son’s head and she nodded imperceptibly. So, he likely wanted to use the drive to the C.D.C as a moment to speak with his wife and confirm what Sally had told him or see if she had been lying. She could help take the weight of Carl and two extra passengers off his shoulders.

“Go on and get comfortable,” Sally smiled at Carol, “I’m just going to grab something from Glenn really quick.”

“Take your time.” Carol said with a sweet smile.

“Oh, the kids can sit in the bed, if they want!” Sally called over her shoulder while jogging over to Glenn. Both he and T-dog would be traveling in the Winnebago apparently. Ever since he had broken two of the windows by bashing a walker’s head through it, he had been trying to air out the vehicle but to no avail. It seemed the walker blood had settled permanently into the cushions and seating, giving the whole vehicle a general smell of decomposition that made T-dog’s (and anyone’s really) stomach lurch harshly.

“I need to borrow the DVD player,” Sally explained quietly to him. They hadn’t yet gotten a chance to watch a movie together after everything that had happened.

“Oh, yeah,” he shrugged his backpack off his shoulder, shuffling his hand around until he found what he was looking for. “For the kids, right?” he asked to confirm.

When she nodded her head, he opened the DVD player and checked the disc inside before handing it to her.

“I love Lucy is kid appropriate, right?” Glenn asked, his brow furrowed slightly in thought.

“Pretty sure, yeah,” Sally replied and didn’t know if she could react to how old it was or not. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Glenn said, pulling his ball cap further down and giving her a wave before stepping up into the Winnebago.

Once Sally got back to her truck, she handed the DVD player off to Carl and Sophia through one of the truck bed windows. The two of them had gotten comfortable awfully quick, her pillows fluffed up around them while they stretched out on top of the pink comforter.

A loud, long, bleating horn sounded throughout the camp, followed by several shorter ones from Merle slamming his hand down on the bus’s horn.

Rick shot a dark look over his shoulder at the man sitting in the bus and Merle looked to be having the time of his life, flipping Rick the bird and then hitting the horn again.

“Shut yer ugly ass up, Merle!” Daryl shouted from his truck’s open window. Merle only stopped once Sally made a small, discrete cutting motion with her hand against her neck, but she was positive he had only stopped because he had gotten it out of his system already.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Sally mumbled to herself with a shake of her head.

“Everyone on channel 40, sound off,” Shane’s voice rumbled over the C.B. radio. The radio had actually been Ed’s and Carol had brought it over to Sally’s truck when she and Sophia had chosen to travel with her instead of Rick and Lori.

Sally wasn’t certain but she had a niggling feeling that Carol had done it because she knew there was something up ever since Sally had left the tree line before Rick had.

People sounded off--some short and sweet, others somewhere in the middle (Merle was in a class of his own with his responses over the radio that Sally tried to tune out).

“Keep the chatter to a minimum,” Rick drawled over the channel and Shane seconded his words.

The drive was mostly quiet. Carol didn’t talk to her much and Sally didn’t try to start up a conversation just to fill the void. She actually rather liked the silence; it gave her time to sort through her own thoughts.

If at all possible, Sally wanted Jenner to leave with them. They needed another doctor--an actual human doctor on the team besides just Hershel. (Then again Sally didn’t exactly know if Jenner had a sutures-and-surgery doctoral background or if it was something strictly related to biology and/or epidemiology). They had gotten lucky while at the Quarry--no one getting an injury worse than a splinter or a skinned knee from tripping in the woods during a morning walk. But Sally could feel that their luck was slowly dwindling, and she wanted to have plans A-Z already in place and on standby by the time that luck ran out.

Jenner would be a good start. After him, of course they need to make their way back to pick up the Greene family (and also watch the beginning of Glenn and Maggie’s love story) and find some place that would offer good shelter that was easily defendable and had a steady water source and food supply. (She did not, under any circumstances, want to deal with the Prison because that meant Woodbury and dealing with the governor. Sally did not want his psycho-ass anywhere near them.)

She also needed to find the time to speak with Rick again and get a team together to go back to his neighborhood--Sally wanted to pick up Duane and Morgan before anything happened to them--as well as completely empty out the rest of Rick’s old workplace. If Sally could pitch it well, they could even empty out the hospital that Rick woke up in--gather all the medicine, bandages, surgical tools, anything and everything that they could take, Sally wanted it.

Carol shifted in her seat then, bringing Sally out of her thoughts and back to the present.

They would be at the C.D.C soon, based on the evening sun and the radio chatter that came from Glenn in the Winnebago who had been giving directions off the road atlases and highway maps. Sally glanced at her rearview mirror, seeing that Sophia and Carl were completely in their own little world watching I Love Lucy together on the portable DVD player.

“Why did you ask to ride with me?” Sally asked, careful to keep her voice low so that the kids wouldn’t hear her. “Don’t get me wrong--I think you’re a cool person and I love that we’re hanging out together--I just want to know what your reasoning was.” she continued, watching Carol from the corner of her eye while Glenn’s voice crackled over the radio saying they were almost there.

“What makes you think there was a reason?” Carol asked lightly, staring straight ahead of them. Her hands played with the cross necklace around her neck, the dainty chain glinting in the low light.

When Sally didn’t respond, Carol sighed softly to herself and dropped her hands into her lap.

“That day,” she started softly, as if she was trying to choke the words out, “the day you went after Ed…”

“What about it?” Sally asked, hoping she sounded encouraging and not standoffish.

“When I woke up that morning, I prayed for Ed to be punished. For laying his hands on me and for looking at his own daughter with whatever sickness was growing in his soul.” Carol choked out, tears glistening down her cheeks. Her shoulders crumpled into themselves as she anxiously fiddled with her hands, pulling the skin this way and that.

Sally blinked harshly to clear away the beginning signs of tears she was about to cry and swallowed the knot forming in her throat. She opened the center console and poked around until she found a small pack of travel-sized tissues and gave them to Carol.

“You must think I’m an awful person--praying for something like that,” Carol sniffled near silently.

Sally accidentally snorted hard enough that it made the back of her throat sting and her eyes temporarily water up. Carol jerked in her seat from the sound, tears momentarily forgotten at the obnoxious sound.

“Carol, I think you’re a motherfucking badass,” Sally said encouragingly, leaning her elbow on the center console between them and then looking to the side to meet Carol’s stunned gaze. “You’re cool as shit. You are, quite literally, the bomb dot com.”

“Excuse me…?” Carol asked, looking just as stunned as the first time Sally had opened her mouth.

Sally shook her head, “No, Carol, I don’t think you’re an awful person. I think you’re someone who’s had awful things done to them, and praying for your abuser to be punished is one of the ways you dealt with those awful things.”

What Sally really wanted to do was drag Ed's name through the mud and back, let loose a thousand and ten curse words, and make a little doll of him for Carol to stab at whenever she felt overwhelmed. For a brief second, Sally had even thought about going over all the statistics that one of her aunts--who had been a social worker before it burnt her out and she retired--had told her about domestic abuse and violent partners. Sally wanted to encourage Carol--tell her that she was doing her best. Tell her that she had the rest of the apocalypse to do better, to grow her confidence in herself, and to raise Sophia how she wanted to raise her. But Carol wasn't ready for anything of that magnitude just yet, and Sally knew better than to try to force the conversation on the older woman.

Carol was quiet for a long moment then, brushing the tears off her cheeks almost as quickly as they had come.

“Wanting someone to feel the same pain that they’ve put you through isn’t something you ever have to apologize for,” Sally murmured softly to the older woman. “I hope you know that.”

Carol sniffled to herself, occasionally patting at her eyes and cheeks with the tissue pack. She had been quiet for such a long time that Sally had assumed the conversation was over, until she spoke again.

“You’re not what I expected,” Carol informed her. For a moment, Sally had almost thought she had imagined the whisper-like sound.

“I’m not exactly fluent in Southern yet--” Carol huffed a small laugh at that, and Sally would count it as a win in her books, “--so I don’t know if that was an insult or not.”

“Just an observation.” She smiled.

“We’re here,” Rick’s voice crackled over the radio, making the two women perk up.

The road to the C.D.C. was littered with burnt and decaying bodies. Sandbags and road blockers were put up every twenty or so feet--there was even a tank on one of the streets. The place looked desolated. The place looked disgusting, but the smell was so potent that Sally's eyes started to water.

Yet they had made it.

No One’s POV

“--the hell’s this?” A man’s voice rang out across the clearing of what appeared to be a deserted camp.

Five other men followed him out of the tree line, their weapons posed to take out anything that moved.

“All fuckin’ empty,” One of them grunted. He slammed one of the car's doors closed--another that was unlootable in a long line of useless cars. They couldn't even be siphoned for gas. As if slamming the door wasn’t enough, he took to kicking the side of the door before bringing the butt of his gun down on the windows. Glass shattered upon the impact, the pieces crunching under their boots.

“Made themselves a nice little enclosure, didn’t they?” Another said aloud, walking the long perimeter of the cars parked bumper to bumper.

“Not that it helped much,” one of the shorter ones snorted, and waved his gun over to the bloody tent that had been trampled over before looking at the pile of burnt corpses.

“What do you say, Boss? Is it a dead end?”

Five of the men turned toward the sixth man who had taken his time walking around the perimeter, scuffing his boots in the gravel and kicking spent casings and shotgun shells. He struck an intimidating figure; the tallest out of the six of them, with short cropped white-blond hair and a smile that was supposed to come off as easy going but only looked cruel instead.

“Should we go back to Atlanta?” one of the men asked, hesitating.

“Not yet…” the pale haired man answered slowly. He ripped a plastic bag off a red car that had been duct taped to the driver side door. “It would be a shame to go back without those weapons--especially when they drew such a lovely map for us.”

He held it up, so that the rest of them could read it.

MORGAN

Going To CDC

THIS AREA

NOT SAFE

RICK

One Episode Left

“--Is there anyone out there listening to this?” He leaned in closer to the screen. The only living human face he had seen for weeks had been his own.

“Is there?” Jenner asked again.

There was no answer.

There was never an answer.

“Fine,” Jenner stated, pushing the seat back to stand up. “That concludes today’s--”

“Hello?”

There was never an answer--until there was.

“Yoohoo! I know you can hear me!”

Notes:

Like I said--not super happy with this chapter. Something about the pacing feels all over the place and the dialogue feels maybe a little stilted...? I don't know how to describe it.

Anyways, might I just say THANK YOU FOR YOUR COMMENTS AND LOVE, they breathe life into me ITSG. I think we'll be ending s1 with just under 80k(?) and I think s2 might be the same or more. Which is kind of funny because if you think about it, 80k is like the average-ish range for a typical book. So, after next chapter, ya'll will have just read a book. Wow, fanfic is amazing.

ALSO ALSOI put the little 1ep to go thing as like a stylistic flair? Ya know, like, when watching the series on Netflix or some other streaming site--and right before the season finale episode, they'll do something like that? So, that's what that was about. IF YOU LIKE IT--tell me. and if you DON'T like it--also tell me, please. If that's something you'd wanna see more of, or if you couldn't care less.

Okay, that's all I wanted to say--(I don't like leaving end of fic notes because I feel like it kind of pulls you out of reading and interferes with the story vibes) thank you again!! <3 <3