I'm sitting in the passenger seat of my dad's old truck, and he's gripping the steering wheel very hard 'cause he thinks this is a stupid idea. Everyone- well, Rick- decided that we'd all go to the CDC to try and save Jim. Dad says it's stupid, 'cause if the CDC had a cure, they would've used it already. Shane still wants to go to Fort Benning. My dad doesn't wanna agree with Shane, 'cause he still hates him, but he also wants to go to Fort Benning. 

It ain't like my dad to be going along with the rest of the group like this. I thought for sure that he'd put me in the truck and start driving to wherever he wanted to go, like the Morales family did. But he didn't. He put me in the truck and started following along with every other vehicle, heading to the CDC. I don't know what's making him go along with them. Maybe he thinks we're better off in a group. I'm not sure.

I've got my head leaning up against the window and I'm trying to find pictures in the clouds, but all I keep seeing are the dead people. I'm trying not to. I'm trying to see all the good things instead, but I keep thinking about Amy and Jim. I think Jim's getting worse. I sorta wish I was in the RV with him, 'cause then maybe I could cheer him up, but no way my dad would let me ride in the RV with an infected person. 

We've been riding in the cars for a little while now. It feels like it's been forever, though, because sitting in the car with my dad is really, really boring. Lori gave me a workbook to do in the car, and I thought it'd be stuff like word searches or connect the dots, but it's math instead. I don't even know how to do most of it. I've always been bad at math, no matter how hard I try. 

I'm trying to do the workbook now, but it's asking me questions that I can only do when Carl's sitting there helping me and telling me what to do. He's way better at math than I am. 

"Dad," I say, hoping he'll be better at math than I am. "What's 63 times eight?"

Dad scoffs, but it ain't a laugh scoff; it's an annoyed scoff. "You think I know 63 times eight of the top a' my head?"

"Well, how do I do it?" I ask. 

"I can't show you when I'm drivin', June," Dad says. He's trying not to be irritated with me. I can tell. I'm irritated with me, too. I wish I was better at math. "Didn't you learn this in school?"

"They taught us, but I still don't get it," I say, digging the tip of my pencil into the paper until it leaves a dent. I wanna scribble all over this stupid paper. Everyone else knows how to do it except for me, apparently. Ain't fair. "How long 'til we get there?" I complain. 

"I don't know, June. I'm just followin' them," Dad tells me. I'm irritating him more by asking questions, so I just drop my workbook onto the floor and keep looking out the window. 

Only a minute later, Dale starts honking on the RV horn, which means everybody stop! As Dad's pressing on the brakes, I move to sit on my knees and poke my head out the window, looking up ahead, past the few cars ahead of us. I can see smoke coming out from the front of the RV.

"You see what's goin' on?" Dad asks me, pulling the keys outta the ignition.

"RV's smokin'," I tell him, squinting my eyes to block the sun. 

"Damn," Dad swears, opening up his door and getting out. I open up my door, too, and I jump down from my seat. There are no more dead bodies in the back of the truck now, by the way. Just Merle's motorcycle. 

Anyway, I grab my workbook and tuck it under my arm before slamming the creaky door shut and following my dad over to the RV. I'm gonna ask Carl to help with the math.

"I told you we'd never get far on that hose," Dale's telling Rick as me and my dad make our way over. Rick puts on his sheriff's hat, which kinda looks more like a cowboy hat to me. "I needed the one from the cube van," Dale says, shaking his head. The cube van disappeared, apparently. Dad said some son of a bitch stole it, probably Merle. I bet Merle stole it, too. He'd steal a cube van. That's a very Merle thing to do.

"Can you jury-rig it?" Rick asks Dale. I'm waiting for him and Dale to be done talking, so I can ask if I can go to his car and talk to Carl and Sophia. But I don't wanna interrupt. 

"That's all it's been so far. It's more duct tape than a hose. And I'm outta duct tape," Dale says, shrugging his shoulders. 

I think their conversation's done now, so I step over by Rick. "'Scuse me, Rick," I say trying to be polite. He looks down at me and smiles, I think, at my politeness. "Which car is yours? I'm lookin' for Carl," I say, holding my book in front of me. 

"The car in front," Rick tells me. And that's actually what I thought. I was just making sure. 

"Thank you," I say, walking off to his car. 

As I pass by Shane, he glances over at me. "You doin' ok, June?" he asks me.

I really don't know why he's asking. Maybe because I was throwing up before. "Yes, sir," I tell him, nodding my head. He really oughta stop asking things like that, or else my dad's gonna get all mad at him. Dad already doesn't like him to start, but Dad's gonna hate him even more if he starts acting like my dad's a bad dad.

Once I get to Rick's car, I climb into the backseat beside Sophia. Carol and Lori are talking and organizing what they've got in the trunk. Carl's sitting on the other side of Sophia, but I'm sure Sophia can help, too. She's way smarter than me. Even smarter than Carl.

"I need help," I say, placing my workbook on my lap. I open up to the page with big number multiplication. "I can't remember how," I tell them. 

"I showed you, like, yesterday," Carl says.

"I forgot how," I murmur, a little embarrassed.

"It's ok. I'll show you again," Carl tells me, taking the pencil. He slides the workbook over to his own lap. "Sophia can help, too. She's probably better at explaining than I am," Carl says with a little laugh.

"Yeah, I can help," Sophia says, smiling and nodding her head. Her dad died last night. I think she was real scared of him. She seems a little bit less shy than she was before. I don't think her dad liked her talking to me. My dad and her dad didn't get along very well. But we shoulda expected that, 'cause neither of our dads get along very well with anyone. 

Carl and Sophia help me with my math work until the whole page is done. I'm still not sure if I'll be able to do it on my own, though. I'm a real bad learner. 

But, luckily, we don't gotta do math no more. Soon enough, Lori comes over to the car and tells us to get out. The reason we gotta get ain't so lucky, though. We gotta get out to say goodbye to Jim. Because Jim is dying and he wants to be left here to die. I hate that. I wish he wouldn't give up. 

We all walk up the hill to see Jim leaning up against a tree. He looks real happy, though. I think he's glad to go. I wouldn't be glad to go, but I think maybe I'd change my mind if I really was going. I think I'd accept it then, just so I could feel happier. 

Dad stays back, but I go up to the tree with Dale. Dale kneels down in front of him and puts on a nice, optimistic smile. "Thanks for, uh... for fighting for us," he says. 

"Ok," Jim says, giving a firm nod. He looks like he's in real bad pain. 

When Dale backs away a little bit, I step forward. I hold my hands behind my back, wringing them around each other. "I'm sorry, Jim," I tell him, 'cause I feel real bad for him. 

"Oh, it's ok. I'll be with my family," he says. He's talking like he's happy, but he's not smiling. I can't tell if he's faking it or not.

I give him a small wave goodbye, and then Dale takes my hand and starts walking us down the hill so other people can have their turns. When we walk by my dad, he grabs me by my arm and pulls me closer to him, away from Dale. Dale sighs and continues walking down the hill without me. 

When everyone else is done saying their goodbyes to Jim, Dad gives him a firm nod, and then we start walking down to the truck. I guess we're still heading to the CDC without Jim. 

"You figure that math out?" Dad asks me as we get back into the truck. 

"Carl and Sophia helped me," I tell him, nodding my head.

He nods, too, and then starts up the truck again. "You need more help, ask me when I ain't drivin'. I'll help ya then," he says. 

I let out a little laugh. "You hate helpin' with math," I tell him, like it's funny. He gets frustrated real easy when he's helping me with math. I remember sitting at the kitchen table crying my eyes out 'cause Merle was laughing at me and Dad was about ready to tear my homework into bits. But Dad always helped me get my homework done, even if it took all night long and he wanted to rip his eyeballs outta his head. 

"I'll help you if ya need it. You know that," he tells me, his voice a little tense. I think I might've irritated him again. 

"Well, I don't even have to do it no more. It's not real homework," I say, shrugging my shoulders. I don't want him to help if he doesn't wanna. Especially if he's gonna get mad about doing it. 

"You wanna learn it?" he asks me.

"Yeah," I murmur, 'cause I really do wanna learn. I feel stupid, not knowing how to do the math everyone else knows how to do. 

"Then I'll teach you," Dad says. I thought he always helped me 'cause he didn't wanna have the teacher calling him, telling him I didn't do my homework. But I guess he really did wanna help. 

"Thank you," I say, and he hums in response. 

The car ahead of us starts moving again, so here we go, too. I hope the radiator hose doesn't give out again. 

For the rest of the drive, I play a game in my head called the ABC game. Me and Dad used to play this game when I was real little, when I was still learning my letters and we were driving for an hour and fifteen minutes to go visit my momma. It's a game where you gotta look for each letter of the alphabet in road signs.  I only end up getting to the letter W before we finally get to the CDC. Too bad the CDC ain't called the WXYZ, 'cause then I'd be able to finish right now. 

"Stay close and be quiet," Dad tells me as we climb outta the truck. In the parking lot of the CDC is a whole bunch of dead people. There are flies buzzing all over the place and the stench is real, real bad. So bad, actually, that I think I might throw up again. 

"What if I puke?" I whisper to my dad.

"Don't," is the only answer he offers. So I put my hand up to my face and cover my mouth, tryna block out the smell. 

Lori's holding onto Carl and Carol's holding onto Sophia as we walk through the sea of dead bodies. I just follow behind my dad, like he said. I try not to look at any of the dead bodies as we go. I think seeing them will make me even more likely to throw up. 

When we reach the doors, Dad glances back at me, just to make sure I'm still following. Then Rick and Shane go up to the big, metal doors and start pushing and pulling on 'em. But they're stuck. They're not opening up. They're not budging. Not even a little bit. 

"There's nobody here," T-Dog says, speaking the truth that no one else wants to speak. 

"Then why are the shutters down?" Rick asks, turning back to him. He's really hoping this place will work out. I can tell. I don't know if we've got any other option, though, because I don't think we've got enough gas to get to Fort Benning.

I jump when my dad tugs me behind him by the back of my shirt. "Walkers!" he alerts everyone. Carl and Sophia start whimpering and crying. They're really scared of walkers. I am, too. I just don't cry very much. Guess I've trained myself not to. Dad lifts his crossbow and shoots one of the walkers right between the eyes. "You let us into a graveyard!" he shouts, stepping closer to Rick. He looks like he wants to hit him. 

"He made a call," Shane says, even though he didn't wanna come to the CDC in the first place.

"It was the wrong damn call!" Dad shouts, still stomping towards Rick. 

Shane gets in front of him and shoves him back. "Just shut up! You hear me? Shut up. Shut up!" he says. Surprisingly, Dad does. Shane turns back to Rick. "Rick, this is a dead end," he says. 

"Where are we gonna go?" Carol asks. I think she's on the verge of crying, too. 

"Do you hear me?" Shane asks Rick. Rick's staring at the big, metal doors as if his mind is gonna open 'em. "No blame."

"She's right. We can't be here, this close to the city after dark," Lori says, so stressed that she's almost yelling.

Dad grabs onto the back of my shirt again, but he ain't pushing me or pulling me no more; he's just holding onto me in case he does have to start pushing me and pulling me. 

"Fort Benning, Rick- still an option," Shane says.

"On what? No food, no field. That's 100 miles," Andrea argues. 

"125. I checked the map," Glenn adds. I'm starting to worry that we're gonna die.

"Forget Fort Benning. We need answers tonight. Now!" Lori says. 

"We'll think of something!" Rick insists. 

Now Dad starts pushing and pulling. He's practically dragging me back in the direction if the truck, and then everyone starts following us. Except for Rick. Rick's still staring at them doors. 

"Where are we gonna go?" I ask in a panic. My heart's beating real fast. The sun's going down and we're not meant to be out after dark. It's too dangerous. Dad doesn't answer my question, though. I don't think he knows the answer. He just keeps pulling me to the point that I'm stumbling over my own feet. 

Then, Rick stops everyone. "The camera- it moved," he shouts. I didn't see no camera, but no I do. It ain't moving, though. 

"You imagined it," Dale dismissed, shaking his head. I'm not so sure I believe Rick, either, but I'd never say it to his face.

But Rick keeps insisting that it moved. Shane goes up to him and starts arguing with him, real quiet at first. The more Rick ignores him, the more he's shouting. Shane's pushing him, just like my dad's pushing me. But I'm going along with Dad, and Rick's not going along with Shane. Instead, he slams on the doors and starts talking to camera. 

"I know you're in there. I know you can hear me," Rick says to the camera. Shane starts shouting at everyone to get back to the cars, and lucky for him, me and Dad are already a third of the way there. "Please, we're desperate! Please help us! We have women, children, no food, hardly any gas left. We have nowhere else to go!"

Rick keeps shouting and shouting at the camera, and it's making my stomach ache. He's drawing all the walkers towards us. There are more and more of 'em, headed our way. 

"God damnit!" Dad shouts, letting go of my shirt to start aiming his crossbow at some of the walkers.

"You're killing us! You're killing us! You're killing us!" is all Rick's shouting for a good thirty seconds. And then a loud hissing sound replaces his yelling and the darkness of sundown is replaced by the whitest light I ever seen. 

The door is open. The door is open! I can't hardly believe it!

A moment later, Dad's grabbing a fistful of my shirt again and he starts tugging me in the direction of the door. As soon as we get inside, he let's go of my shirt and shoves me in front of him, now holding his gun rather than his crossbow. Now that we're inside and my eyes are all adjusted, the light don't seem so bright. 

"Hello?" Rick calls. Nothing. Silence. 

I'm looking around with wide eyes. This place is huge. I think it'd take, like, a million of me's stacked on top of each other to touch the ceiling. Who needs a building this freakin' tall? What even is this place? A veterinarian for giraffes?

"Hello?" Rick calls again. 

Then, a gun cocks. 

I'm shoved back behind my dad now. He can't decide where the heck he wants me, apparently. He keeps tugging me around like luggage or something. 

"Anybody infected?" a voice shouts. It's a man's voice, but I can't see him. 

"One of our group was. He didn't make it," Rick says. He didn't make it. I wonder if he's still alive, sitting against that tree. It's only been a few hours.

I can see the man, now. He's walking out from around a corner, holding a gun. Don't know why he's holding it like that. I've seen my dad hold a gun a thousand times, and he ain't never held it down low like that.

"Why are you here? What do you want?" the man asks. 

"A chance," Rick answers. 

A chance to live. A chance to survive. All we want is a chance.