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The walls of The Right Arm loomed over Andrea as she walked along the outer path, her boots kicking up soft tufts of dust with each step. In the distance, she could hear the rhythmic thud of fists against training dummies and the sharp bark of orders echoing from the field. The Right Arm was always moving.
And yet… Andrea felt still.
Not useless—just unsure.
She leaned against a wooden post near the garden perimeter, arms crossed as she watched Clara oversee a group of children planting tomato sprouts. Carol guided Sophia with quiet patience, while Amy sat in the grass nearby, showing Carl how to tie knots with scrap rope.
A soft ache pulsed in Andrea's chest at the sight.
Amy laughed, carefree, and for a moment, Andrea was transported to the world before. A world with malls, college dorms, weekend drives, and arguments over who would do the dishes. A world where her little sister hadn't been nearly eaten alive by monsters, and Andrea hadn't been forced to pull a trigger on someone she once knew.
That world was gone. Buried beneath ash and rotting corpses.
Andrea shook the thought away and turned, making her way back toward the center of camp. The people here were different from the ones she'd first survived with. They were more disciplined. More alert. And it all stemmed from Rick Grimes.
Or… whoever he had become.
Andrea had seen Rick before, back in Atlanta. A little reckless, maybe. But here, now… there was something sharper in his eyes. Something dangerous—but not in a bad way. More like a blade honed too fine. He didn't react the way most men did. He acted like someone who had already survived the end of the world and just woke up in a place that needed catching up.
She didn't know how to feel about that yet.
At the training field, Morales was organizing the supply lists while Guillermo sparred with Daryl using dulled knives. Shane was shouting at recruits, his voice hoarse from barking orders since dawn. Andrea stood at the edge for a while, arms crossed again, unnoticed but observing everything.
She caught Rick's eyes eventually—he was speaking to Morgan over a makeshift map nailed to a table. His glance flicked to her just once, a quick nod, and then returned to the plan.
That nod stayed with her longer than it should have.
It was like he saw her. Not just as another body in the crowd, not just as Amy's sister, or the woman who shot walkers. He saw a person with something left to give.
And maybe that was what she needed.
Because no matter how much she trained, no matter how hard she fought to stay sharp… inside, Andrea still felt like she was drifting. Like her purpose had been tied to surviving, but now that they had food, walls, even classes for the kids… what was next for her?
She wasn't Carol, who found comfort in caring for others. She wasn't Clara, who returned to teaching with grace. And she damn sure wasn't Lori, who walked around camp like a ghost still hoping yesterday would come back.
Andrea wanted to fight.
Not just walkers—but for something real.
She finally stepped into the training zone, catching Shane's attention.
"Got something to say, Andrea?" Shane grumbled.
"Not yet," Andrea replied. "But I want in."
Shane raised an eyebrow. "You already rotate on the perimeter."
"That's not what I mean," Andrea said firmly. "I want to be part of the combat team. Real missions. Patrols. Raids. Not just clean-up."
Shane looked amused, but Rick approached before he could say anything more.
"You think you're ready for that?" Rick asked. His tone wasn't dismissive—it was neutral.
Andrea met his gaze. "Yes."
Rick didn't look away. He glanced at Shane. "What's her firearm accuracy?"
"Consistent," Shane admitted. "She hits headshots more often than most."
Rick gave Andrea another once-over. "Come to tomorrow's field drill. You'll be evaluated."
Andrea nodded. "Thank you."
She turned to leave, but Rick stopped her.
"One more thing," he said. "You're not just joining a squad. You're joining a unit. I need soldiers who think beyond their own survival."
Andrea blinked, surprised by the choice of word.
Soldiers.
She wasn't a cop, or a soldier, or a killer.
But maybe she was becoming something new.
"I understand," she said. "I won't let you down."
That night, as she sat near the fire with Amy and T-Dog, she kept quiet. Amy was talking about wanting to raise chickens, of all things. T-Dog laughed at her enthusiasm and offered to help build the coop.
Andrea smiled, but her mind was already elsewhere.
She thought of the gun Rick handed her during that early skirmish. The first time she shot a walker clean through the eye. The weight of it. The recoil. The resolve.
Maybe it was wrong, but she liked that feeling. Not the killing—but the control. In a world where everything had fallen apart, Andrea had finally found something that made her feel strong.
And now, here in the Right Arm, there was a chance to do more than survive.
There was a chance to belong.
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If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon for early access, exclusive chapters, and more:
10+ Chapters
patreon.com/Jayzero