Dead Man Walking || RICK GRIMES POV -SLOW UPDATES-

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Skimming the contents of the near-bare shelves, Rick let a disgruntled sigh escape his mouth. There was nothing of value, and the things left were meaningless. Who needed dog toys and a mug shaped like breasts in a time like this? In a bout of frustration, he was tempted to throw everything from the shelf to the floor, and he would've too, but he knew that the noise would only attract walkers, and that was the last thing they needed. Everyone was running on fumes, exhausted and cold; if the fall chill signaled anything, it would be a brutal winter.

The road had been challenging, and Rick knew they were lucky to be in the hovel of a house that Daryl had found – if it could be called a house. On the south side of the house, the wall was in smithereens, as if someone had driven through it, exposing them not only to the chilling fall air but to any threats – alive or dead. To combat the constant threat of walkers, they reverse-parked their vehicles against the wall, allowing them a quick getaway if needed. It was only a temporary situation, one that Rick was determined to leave in the morning, but they needed something to hunker down in while Lori dealt with near-crippling nausea and vomiting.

Lori... that was someone Rick found himself avoiding at all costs. Since the farm was lost, the couple had been on rocky terms, which was putting it nicely. The fact of the matter is that Rick and his estranged wife barely exchanged words these days, and when they did, he found himself more than eager to get away from her. Things now were worse than ever, and things were bad before. He never saw his marriage going this way. He knew that with the commitment of marriage came compromises and arguments, and he and Lori had their fair share of fights, but at least they'd talk. Now, they weren't speaking unless it was absolutely necessary or to fight. Sure, Lori tried, after about a week of the cold shoulder post-farm, but now, almost three weeks later, he found himself still brewing in a gaping, neverending puddle of hurt, betrayal, and, dare he say, resentment.

What he hated the most about the tension? Carl was directly affected by it. The tension between the married pair made the whole group feel awkward, but Carl was placed right in the middle. He was used as a message boy between them, and on top of that, he was constantly confused about what to do and what was allowed. Rick would tell him he could do one thing, and Lori would tell him the complete opposite. Rick told him to carry a gun from now on; Lori was vehemently against it and took it away. Rick would put Carl on watch, a short shift of maybe two hours, and Lori dragged him away, saying he was too young to protect the group. Rick told him he could join on scavenges if they were close by – no long-distance stuff – and Lori told him he must always stay by her side.

"Why? You can't even watch him right," Rick had said to her a few days ago in a flurry of rage. Even though they couldn't raise their voices at one another, the bite in their tones as they argued was one that instantly cleared a room. One moment, he snapped in a cold room with an audience; the next, it was a ghost town. Only when June approached to grab Carl and lead him away, he realized everyone had left. No one wanted to be near the pair when they interacted. Hell, he didn't even want to be present when she tried to talk to him.

With a great sigh, Rick hitched his pack higher onto his shoulder and turned foot, ready to leave the bare-boned store he had stupidly hoped had resources. As he turned, his eyes focused on the woman standing a mere few feet away, a frown permanently set on her face.

"Any luck?" He asked, his voice coming out raspy and exhausted.

"Found a few protein bars," She answered, running a hand through her red hair. Her movements appeared groggy: "We can ration those for maybe a day or two."

Rick pursed his lips and started to move toward her, his feet nearly dragging as his stomach growled at the mention of something as nasty as protein bars. As the distance between them closed, June turned on her heel and started toward the door, her arms wrapping around her midsection.