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Below is the complete Chapter 3 of The Walking Dead: Fight to Survive. Reviews and thoughts are accepted in the comments.

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Sophia darted up the grassy hill that was directly before her, looking down to see...a shack! As a smile spread across her young face, Sophia ran down the hill and made for the wooden shack.

She skidded to a stop directly outside the small building's door. Please don't let there be a walker in here, please don't let there be a walker in here... Sophia thought to herself as she slowly opened the door. Peeking inside, she spoke softly: "Hello? Is there anyone in here?" No answer. It must be empty...or no one's making any noise.

The young girl walked inside the building, closing the door behind her. The sun's light shined in through the glass windows, illuminating the inside of the cabin. Which was a good thing, considering she had no other lighting source to use inside the small building that was now her only hope of survival. Her only safe haven, if you could call a small shack a safe haven.

Sophia looked around, her eyes picking up every little detail they noticed. A wooden table pressed up against one of the larger windows, with two chairs beside it. They were both pulled out; whoever was sitting in them must've had to jump out in a hurry. There were two books placed in a stack on the table, pressed against the wall; The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and another, newer book. Sophia turned her head to look further into the cabin. "Hello? Is there anyone in here?" she asked again. Still nothing.

But then, she could've sworn she heard something shift deeper into the shack. From its size, there must be only one or two more rooms. Sophia began to wonder whether it was a walker, a survivor, or an animal further into the building's shadows.

She hoped it was anything besides a walker. The animal wouldn't - at least most likely wouldn't attack her - and the survivor may have pity on a lonely, surviving girl who had to seek shelter in a cabin.

A walker wouldn't show any sympathies.

- - -

Daryl stopped in the path the group had taken around the horde of walkers. "I don't hear anything out there," Glenn noted, gripping his pistol tightly. Daryl nodded in agreement. "Yeah...maybe we've gone on past 'em," he suggested, keeping the stock of his crossbow pressed against his shoulder. Rick drew his silver Colt Python, aiming it outward. "Well, there's only one way to find out," he said, stepping out from behind the tree they were hidden behind.

Nothing was on the main path. Shane looked down the way they had come from. Nothing. Not a walker was in their sights. "We must have gotten past them," he announced, lowering his shotgun. He turned to Rick. "Yet we still have no sign of the girl. How much further are we going, Rick?"

It was Daryl who spoke up next. "Look, I don't care what any of you do, but I'm not ending my search for Sophia until we find her, dead or alive. If you want to go back to the rest of 'em at the RV, that's fine by me. Just let me know how her mama takes it when you tell her you gave up on her daughter."

He turned his back on his four companions, marching off on his own. "Daryl," Rick spoke, not wanting to attract attention from walkers. "Daryl!" But the redneck crossbow-wielder didn't stop or come back.

"That stubborn bastard," Shane cursed, turning to look back down the path they came. "So, what do we do, Rick? Go back, or do we continue this hunt for Sophia? Whether or not she's still alive." Rick huffed, looking down to his son. Carl looked up to him, his blue eyes begging him to choose the latter of the two choices Shane had provided.

"We continue on, until nightfall at least. Then we go back and start again."

Shane marched towards Rick. "Wait, what? Your sayin' we're gonna come back here tomorrow if we don't find her? That's crazy, Rick. We'll be checking the same ground again and again."

Rick shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Shane. We can't just leave one of our own behind unless we know for certain that they're dead." He placed a hand on Carl's shoulder. "Come on, Carl. Let's go. We don't want to waste any time."

The four started on once again, Shane dragging behind.

- - -

The lone man walked down his lone path, his crossbow aimed expertly. He was searching for anything that would lead him to discovering Sophia and returning her to her mother.

Daryl couldn't understand Shane's attitude. He seemed as if he didn't want to find Sophia.

Suddenly, something caught his eye buried under the leaves on the path. Sophia's doll. Daryl bent down to pick the discarded doll up. He recognized it as the toy that Eliza Morales had given to Sophia before she and her family had left the survivor group. Sophia had cherished that thing, and she had to be devastated with losing it.

Daryl's eyes suddenly widened. She wouldn't leave this behind willingly...somethin's happened to her!

Quickly, Daryl stood up and began to run off up a nearby hill. As he stood on the top, scanning the surrounding area, he caught sight of a shack down in the woods below. "Maybe she went in there," Daryl mumbled to himself, but was suddenly cut off as a strong force pummeled into his back, sending him rolling down the hill.

After emitting a handful of grunts and slamming into a tree trunk at the bottom of the hill, Daryl stood to his feet, only to see a walker stumbling to its feet; it must've slammed into him and knocked him down the hill.

"Come on, ya maggot!" Daryl yelled, raising his crossbow. Before he could fire a bolt, however, he felt another pair of arms grab him from the side. Spinning, he saw the second walker with its open jaws coming at him. He swiftly slammed with the butt end of his crossbow, smacking the undead being in the rotting chin. That didn't, however, stop its attack. Daryl aimed his weapon, firing off the bolt loaded into it. The shaft slammed into the walker's eye socket; Daryl watched as the dead creature slumped over in a heap on the ground.

Turning, Daryl was met by the other walker. The beast slapped with a clawed hand, scratching Daryl's right arm and sending his crossbow flying into a nearby bush. Daryl yelled out a curse as the beast tackled him into a nearby tree.

Daryl tore his knife from his waistband, jabbing at the walker. He was able to skim its arm, but he didn't touch the skull. The walker jumped at him, sinking its teeth down into his chest.

Letting out a scream, Daryl collapsed backwards, his knife out of reach. He reached down to his hip for the pistol he had brought with him, and was thankful once he felt the cool grip in his sweaty palm. Swinging with his right fist, Daryl punched the zombie on top of him to the side. Tearing the pistol from his belt, Daryl took careful aim and fired a bullet into the creature's brain, ending its reign of terror.

Daryl let out a sigh, lowering his gun. However, he instantly realized he had made a mistake in firing the sidearm: the nearby roars of the walkers clarified it. He darted towards the location where his discarded crossbow lied in the grass. Snatching it up, he returned his pistol to his belt and reached for a bolt to notch into his weapon, just as a trio of walkers stumbled from the woods.

The marksman quickly took precise aim and fired, sending the bolt into the head of one of the walkers. As it collapsed to the dirt, Daryl grabbed another bolt and followed the same procedure that he used with the last, downing another one of the undead beasts. Smiling, he reached for a third bolt - and felt nothing but air. "Well...that's just damn great," Daryl solemnly spoke, his eyes narrowing on the two arrows impaled into the walkers lying dead on the ground. Quickly, he began to run towards them in a hope that he may be able to snatch them up and use them to his desires.

The survivor darted for the closest corpse, his hand stretched out to catch it. As he felt the cold beam on his fingertips, Daryl placed his foot on the dead walker's back, pulling hard. A loud snap was heard as Daryl yanked the bolt out, turning to the other zombie. He did the same, now holding two arrows in his hands. Realizing that the living walker was coming for him, Daryl turned to run for a better position...

...only to trip and fall, one of the bolts falling under his gut as he collapsed, impaling him.

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