The Third Dixon [The walking dead]

Chapter two

Lori and Amy crouched near the fire, sorting through a basket of mushrooms they'd gathered earlier. A few questionable ones were pushed off to the side.

"Any luck?" Lori asked, brushing dirt from her hands.

Amy frowned down at the basket. "How do we even tell if they're poisonous?"

Lori hesitated. "Uh... there's only one sure way I know."

Amy brightened slightly. "Ask Shane when he gets back?"

"Or me?"

Both women looked up as Measi stepped closer. She took the basket without waiting for permission, plucked one of the mushrooms free, and examined it closely. Her fingers peeled back a thin layer of skin, revealing the flesh underneath.

"You can eat this one," she said calmly, handing it back. A small smirk tugged at her lips. "But wash them first. Boiled water, if you can. Don't want to risk infection."

Amy nodded, visibly relieved. "Got it." She lifted the basket and moved off toward the edge of camp.

Lori watched her go before standing. "Dale, I'm heading out."

She turned to Carl, who sat nearby scribbling in his notebook. "Sweetheart, stay where Dale or Measi can see you, okay?"

"Yes, Mom," Carl said without looking up.

Dale adjusted his hat. "You too. Don't wander far. Stay within shouting distance. If you see anything, holler—I'll come running."

Lori sighed. "Yes, Mom."

Measi snorted softly and shook her head. When Lori shot her a warning look, Measi stuck her tongue out at her.

Lori rolled her eyes—but there was the faintest hint of a smile.

Dale worked beneath the RV, tools scattered at his feet as he muttered under his breath. The sun had begun to dip lower, shadows stretching long across the camp.

Measi lay flat on the roof of the van, legs dangling over the side as she ran a cloth over her sniper rifle one last time. The motions were slow, deliberate—comforting. She adjusted the scope, twisting it until the glass was spotless. If something went wrong, she wanted no excuses.

Below her, Dale grunted.

"Boy, that hose isn't long for this world, is it?"

Jim wiped his hands on his jeans. "No, sir."

Dale sighed. "Where the hell are we gonna find a replacement?"

Amy hovered nearby, eyes darting toward the road. "It's late. They should've been back by now."

"Worrying won't make it better," Dale replied gently, though his voice lacked conviction.

Measi lifted her head slightly, scanning the treeline. Her jaw tightened.

Nearby, Shane sat with Carl, a length of rope looped between them. Lori stood a short distance away, arms crossed, watching too closely.

"Attaboy," Shane said.

"Yeah," Carl grinned.

"And three, two, one—pull it."

"Ah! Aw." Carl groaned, then laughed.

"Start it over," Shane said. "Make your 'p' the other way... around your finger."

"Oops."

"Good. Tie it like that. Attaboy."

The radio crackled.

Measi froze.

"T-Dog to base camp. Hello, base camp! Anybody out there hear me?"