⁰⁶ ENTREATY
❝ Breathe, keep breathing.
Don't lose your nerve. ❞
― Radiohead, Exit Music
AMY, I'M SORRY for not ever being there. I always thought there would be more time. I'm here now, Amy. I'm here. I love you.
The words ran over and over inside Harlene's mind. The bullet echo was an itch in her ears. The dust of the burial ground clung under her boots, sobs of people hiddenly reflected in her own heart. Amy had shone on them brighter than the sun, and it was so much darker when her light went out than it would have been if she had never lit their days.
Andrea had shot her. After a miserable time, they had gone through funerals. The blonde woman was now on a lawn chair, asleep under blankets; Harley wasn't ashamed to admit she had stolen Dale's method and diffused a sleeping pill into her water. Andrea needed rest for what was to come. They all sat down in a circle to decide exactly that.
Harlene clutched onto Carl's waist. His tears had dried against his freckles, round eyes observing the silence. The grieved tenseness made the boy step closer to her as her hand threaded into his hair. He had finally calmed down. After all, the world's brand-new design was traumatizing for his age. Twelve was not the extent to be witnessing aberrations eating people alive. The experience was not to be lived by anyone, but their future had decided differently.
Carl was never going to grow up innocently. In the thinking, Harlene was ravaged, making her hold him even tighter.
"Were you named after Harley Quinn?"
She abandoned her thoughts at the childish question, "Who?"
"Harley Quinn. Joker's girlfriend. From DC comics." Carl's shorter fingers toyed with her black nail-polished ones. "Were you named after her?"
With his admiring eyes on her, she chuckled, "Harley is my nickname. My full name is Harlene, and it means hare's meadow. My mother thought it was cute, and my father was a Harley Davidson lover. He was the first to call me Harley. It has stuck with me ever since."
"Do you like Harley Quinn?"
"Yeah! She's badass."
"I like her too. She reminds me of you."
Harlene mirrored his tired but optimistic smile. With it, the men they had sent out for a perimeter run returned, eyes turning on Rick, Dale, and Shane. Their eased stances told the group their rims were safe enough to begin thinking of better chances.
"I've, uh... I've been thinking about Rick's plan. Now, look, there are no guarantees in either way. I'll be the first one to admit that." Shane began. He lowered his shotgun, leaning over his one knee, gesturing Rick's way. "I've known this man for a long time. I trust his instincts. I say the most important thing here is we need to stay together. So, those of you that agree, we leave first thing in the morning. Okay?"
No one let out a sound. Without obligations, even from those he had thought would refuse, their course was set to CDC. In the pause, Harlene realized the painful truth. The quarry had been their family's safe haven long before the end of the world, and now the memories would be far to reach, washed by that round lake. It was not this dry dirt of some hundred meters they would abandon. Not the trees above. It was the roots that reached the corpses beneath. They could take everything along except the graves of those they had loved.
The soil stains on Dale's knees had a knife twist in her heart. He had taken a break during the border control to visit the grave of his dead grandson, and she carried the same woeful duty.
I'll visit you often, she had promised Ronnie weeks ago. By God and everything true, I'll keep you company through your rest.
It had gotten easier each time, maybe because madness had begun leaking into her mind after speaking to a phantom. That she would have the chance for one last time frightened her.
Her brother would be truly gone.
"Come back to us from your sleep," Harlene begged. She went to the forest rim before anything else, hoping the daylight would ease her grief with its warmth. "Hurry, Ronnie. I'll have to go soon."
Leaves rustled, and the wind blew, but the silence that followed broke her soul. Only in front of the dark earth like this did Harlene pity her sanity that hung from the noose of her love. Her poor, poor fate. The way death had fallen in love with her, taking everyone away so it could visit her, now more often than ever before.
But she loved life. She adored the vigor of people, the crinkle around someone's eyes that came with a smile. Once, she had even loved her own life in the fields of green Lithonia.
Those days were past, and the demise of Ronald's laughter had taken their smiles along with its selfish essence. Harlene leaned down and kissed the earth of his grave, not minding the dirt stains. She cried in silence, fisting the soil to feel an ounce of her brother.
"I wish it hadn't taken your death for me to understand the gravity of what our lives have to become. I'm sorry, Ron. But I'll do better."
The bloody Kent cigarette pack was taken out of her pocket where it had made a home to itself. She placed it before the wooden monument that wrote the name she had chosen but failed to save. "I'll live for you. Don't go anywhere. Hold onto your guilt-freedom for now. I'll come back one day to take it." She wiped her cheeks clean, sucking a shaky breath as a poor smile followed, "You better not smoke while I'm gone, dipshit."
I love you.
Early morning arrived solemnly. Packing took no time. Harlene grabbed what she had in their tent and helped Landon gather his mess — most of their belongings were already in the RV. She knew he had visited Ronald's grave in the cold of the night because his eyes were bloodshot by the morning and his sedatives had scattered everywhere.
She knew he regretted not knowing him better, too. To take his mind off of their losses, she threw a question in the middle, "What happened out there before you came back?" Merle had not returned. Only the toolbox and the guns. Time had not been right to ask before, but she could not fight her curiosity off any longer, turning to her brother. He seemed like he didn't even wish to recall.
"That older Dixon couldn't get himself out of the cuffs without losing some weight." He rambled. "And Glenn was kidnapped."
Her eyes widened, "What?"
"The man cut his hand off with the saw from Dale's toolbox and fled. We were following his trail when we got into trouble with another group of people... Actually, it's relieving to know there are others out there."
Deducing he wouldn't be helpful, she confined herself to their safety. Her shock was replaced with worry when Daryl crossed her mind, thinking of how devastating it had to be for him. "I'm glad all of you returned. Although I cannot say the same for Merle... As much as I hate it, we can't look for him. Not anymore."
"Tough son of a bitch even cauterized the wound."
She shook her head with a sour face, zipping up their packs. "You're traveling with Jim?" She asked with a keen eye. It wasn't a question; it was a request.
"There is not much I can do," Landon sighed. "I'll give him painkillers and antipyretics, but that won't save him, Lillie."
"I know," The orange shade of the tent cast on her grim face. Harley reached for the frame beside her sleeping bag, stolen from the walls of the motorhome. Her fingers ran over the family portrait and gathered the dust on it. "We do our best."
Landon silently breathed out. It was their longing for the past that familiarized them the most. Before he had bolted from Macon back to Lithonia, when the gossip about cannibalism had begun, they hadn't been as close-knit. He had read his grief away and focused on his studies while she had been left behind by her older brothers to raise her younger ones. Landon would always regret abandoning his family.
But he was here now. He walked to his sister and took the picture from her gently. "It'll get easier... Somewhere along the line." He grazed a thumb on her chin. "For now, this needs to be returned to where it belongs. Come on. Dale must be waiting for you to call shotgun."
"I don't think I can. Jim is...loud."
"We're not letting you go. You know that."
"I'll just travel with Rick's lot." Harlene decided. "Tell Dale for me." She didn't wait on an objection and fled the tent. She had chosen the safest answer. Landon would not chase her over it.
Glenn was the chosen one to be persuaded into traveling next to her grandfather, claiming she was no good with maps. In truth, she couldn't bear staying around Jim in his fragility. His screams were agonizing, both for the bitten and bystander. They were hasty in their gathering for his sake. When the vehicles were prepped, they stood in the empty site that had once been their slipshod dwelling.
"Alright, everybody, listen up!" Shane called out. "Those of you with CBs, we're gonna be on channel 40. Let's keep the chatter down, okay?"
Rick nodded beside his partner, dressed in uniform. Everybody listened attentively — authority was oozing out of their postures, and perhaps it was the bag of guns by their feet. They had made an unspoken agreement on their leaders, capable and assertive enough to shoulder the roles of the scapegoats. Two sides of the same coin, Harlene feared they would not share the position well when making difficult decisions.
When it came to playing God, deciding who is to live and who is to die.
"Now, you've got a problem, don't have a CB, can't get a signal or anything at all, you're gonna hit your horn one time. That'll stop the caravan. Any questions?"
"We're, uh... We're not going," Morales told. People turned to him and his family in surprise.
"We have family in Birmingham. We wanna be with our people." Miranda explained. She held onto her kids with a shy face, already teared up.
"You go on your own. You won't have anyone to watch you back." Shane warned.
"We'll take the chance." Morales was determined. "I gotta do what's best for my family."
Rick looked at him from underneath his brows, "You sure?"
"We talked about it. We're sure."
Decremental numbers were harder to take when mourning for people who were still alive. The family had been loved. Rick and Shane handed them a gun and shells, finalizing the departure. The children cried as they parted with their friends. One by one, goodbyes were bid through tears, and Harlene kept it a secret that she erased them from her heart to not be pained about things out of her hands.
"We will miss you all," She embraced Miranda and kissed Louis and Eliza's cheeks. "Stay safe."
"You too, Conejito," Morales sadly grinned. "Take care."
She told the kids uplifting words and earned smiles. Whereas she felt they were empty promises. Whatever awaited them out there was nowhere near uplifting, full of demise. Maudlin as it was, living was no more for the alive, and their sole thoughts had to be survival.
And this... What a stupid decision, Harlene thought; they won't make it.
They were better off gone. The lack of manpower their absence would create could be fixed with tight scheduling. Shane believed the same, and he could see it in her eyes. He had taught her, for the most of it, to judge like that. "Harley! Heard the vehicles are full." As people spread, he motioned to his jeep. "You gonna ride with me?"
"The Cherokee is full?" She frowned.
He took notice of her dissatisfaction. He sighed, scratching his nape, "Hey, you know... We've fallen out lately, but that don't change the fact that I care about you. You're my deputy, yeah?"
Harlene was grateful for his efforts in her — she could deliver him that. But just because he had oriented her, it did not make them friends. She was bitter at him for shaming her before the entire camp.
"Yeah," She nodded, only to blurt out, "Oh, but you know what, I just recalled. I had promised Daryl. I think I'll go with him."
They landed eyes on the redneck, attaching his motorcycle to his pickup's trunk. Shane gave her an irritated look, rolling his tongue against his cheek. He knew her attitude was to spite him.
"Is that how it is? Alright..." The man trailed off, refusing to believe Daryl would even agree. "Well... Channel 40 or a honk."
"I know. Thank you."
Harley turned around thereupon, exhaling deeply. She slid her duffel bag of initial belongings on her shoulder, tightened the arms of the jacket around her waist, and trekked to Daryl's vehicle. He didn't acknowledge her presence until she spoke aloud.
"Hey, Dixon! The other cars are loaded. I'm stuck with you."
Daryl didn't look up from the straps he was fiddling with. He nudged his bike to make sure it was tightly secured, stomping on top of the pickup. He jumped down on the dirt, "Ain't nowhere left?"
"No."
"Can't fit yer ass in one of their trunks?"
"Too fat for that."
He scrutinized her with a scowl, lingering on her persuasive smile. How foolishly were her eyes fluttering... "Stop that," He complained. "Get in. Ain't even wanna hear ya breathin'."
Harlene swung her bag next to his bike and rushed to the passenger seat satisfiedly. She didn't bother fastening the seat belt. The two-seated car reeked of cigarettes, musk, and an earthy cologne. She puffed her chest to savor the scent, dragging it into her lungs until it hurt to the brim. She hoped it was not Merle's. Though the younger Dixon couldn't care less about smelling good, he had cleaned up since their last talk.
Daryl got into the driver's seat shortly. He shuffled a bit and closed the door. He could feel her eyes on himself as he meddled with the keys and started the engine, "Why not go with him?"
"What?"
"That asshole, Shane, why didn't ya?"
Realizing he had heard that exchange and was aware of her white lie, Harlene cleared her throat, "You said it. He is an asshole."
Daryl didn't speak back. He began steering after the convoy, and they departed as a caravan of five vehicles. Everyone but the Morales family was disassembled in different automobiles. If one were to forward their head from the window, it was easy to spot the other cars.
The first twenty minutes were silent. Peaceful like their long walks only two suns ago. Harlene watched the scenery, unaware of him stealing her sight. In the spaces between seconds, he marked the scene in his mind in which her hair flew wildly against the warm wind, causing her to get tired of the heat. Those intervals had begun bothering Daryl since the hunting trip. They were not supposed to intrigue him. As she rolled her window up and tied her hair, he had to look away from her exposed neck to avert the creeping feeling that suffocated him.
Then began her turn to gaze. Daryl's eyes were narrow against the sun, one hand hanging out his window, the other steering. He seemed, as often, to be deep in thinking. She wondered about the thoughts that rumpled his features. She wanted to press a finger between his brows to stop them from furrowing but could not dare to.
"Where did you get that shirt from?" Left her lips instead, a teasing grin pulling them.
Daryl confusedly darted between her and his brownish, yellow checkered clothing, "What's wrong with my shirt?"
"It's..." She quelled her smile. "Forget it. You're okay."
"Ya didn't like my shirt?"
"It's hideous! I'll find you a better one if we run into a store. You need darker tones on your tan body."
Her laughter chimed like church bells, and he flusteredly snarled, "Whatever. Put a cork in it and play nice with me, or I'ma kick ya outta the window, girl."
"I'm not girl. I have a name." Harley leaned to her side to see him better. Her cheek pressed against the car seat as she curled a leg under her weight. "Don't tell me you forgot."
"I didn't. Yer still a girl."
"I'm twenty-two. A woman."
"Don't care." He said. He truly did not care for meaningless chatter or small truths. Deep down, however, he wondered about who was foolish enough to want to be around him.
Perhaps it was her naiveness. Then again, her youth did not touch her arduous will to live and defend; she was audacious at an alarming rate. Nights ago, she hadn't blinked while firing a gun and bathing in decay. One would not believe the sight. He knew what had borne her so unforgiving — why she had forced herself to embrace it as a habit.
Loss. Even before that of her youthful brother, by the clues of it.
After a prolonged silence of him biting his lip, nearly enough to make it bleed, Harlene questioned, "So... What is my name?"
"Hare's meadow," Daryl muttered. "I'm a Harley Davidson lover, too."
Her cheeks flared. She skipped a few breaths, the rhythm of her chest failing. She stupidly smiled. He had been listening, she realized. By the corner of where she had been seated, he had been on guard, his ears opening once catching a trail of her resonant voice.
When it came to her, he would listen, even though he hated to. In exchange, Harlene, who adored conversing, kept herself quiet when they were together, and the sweetest bit of it was that their silence was comfortable. They had their travels to thank for that.
For the final once, she said, "I'm glad I went on that hunt with you."
His soft huff was the last noise toward the two hours of engine hum. At the end of a hundred and twenty minutes, the young woman's head that nearly fell from dozing off raised to his tongue clicking against the dome of his mouth. He parked the jeep along with the caravan. There had been no honking, and they had halted because the head vehicle, Dale's RV, had had to make an emergency stop.
Her joints popped and cracked as she stumbled from the truck after him. Poured onto the highway, people stretched their sore limbs from sitting in the same stuffy positions, trying to figure out the issue.
As soon as noticing the spewing hot mist of the motorhome, Harlene hung her head and groaned. Her steps hastened to her grandfather scratching his beard annoyedly, gazing into the depths of his RV.
He glanced at her with her arrival, but it was a bitter glint for her lack during the road. He had not been pleased to see her come out of the Dixon man's car. "I told you we'd never get far on that hose," He complained to Rick. "I said I needed the one from the cube van!"
"Can you jerry-rig it?"
Harlene cut between them to poke her head into the engine cage, trying to remember Jim's teaching over campervan machines. When the smoke burned her eyes, she drew herself back toward Rick, "That's all we've been doing so far. It's more duct tape than a hose."
"And I'm out of duct tape." Dale sighed.
"Well, I see something up ahead," Shane spoke up, his binoculars pressed over his orbital bones. "A gas station, if we're lucky."
Before he could open his mouth again, Jacqui startled everyone. She was covered in a sheen of sweat, on the verge of sobs, "Y'all, Jim— It's bad! I don't think he can take anymore."
"Because he can't."
Landon left the Winnebago after Jacqui. While he took a deep breath, a bloody rag was in his clutch from the coughing lungs of a dying man. His face displayed enough hopelessness for everyone to understand, causing Harlene to curl a hand around Dale's bicep.
Shane immediately adapted to the situation, "Hey, Rick, you wanna hold down the fort? I'll drive ahead, see what I can bring back."
"Yeah, I'll come along, too." T-Dog nodded. "I'll back you up."
"Y'all keep your eyes open, now. We'll be right back."
His eyes lingered on Harlene as he took a step, but the rift between them would not be closed unless she was ready to build bridges. He did not ask her to come along. She was too busy worrying about Landon, whose hands shook in a terrifying disappointment to himself. When they returned, the young man was still mumbling dazedly.
"I gave him enough anesthetics to sedate a horse. But I can't— I just cannot waste more. He doesn't get numb."
Rick squeezed his shoulder, "You did the best you could."
"No," He shook his head. Landon was just a delivery nurse. He was meant to welcome people to life, not bid them farewell to death. "He says he cannot bear the pain. The road only makes it torturous. He wants us to leave him on the roadside. It's what he says he wants."
"And he's lucid?" Carol inquired.
"His fever died down for a while. I would say yes."
"Back in the camp, when I said Daryl might be right, and you shut me down, you misunderstood," Dale said to Rick, upset by the accusation. "I would never go along with callously killing a man. I was gonna suggest that we ask Jim what he wants. And I think we have an answer."
Shane frowned, "So we just leave him here? We take off? Man, I'm not sure I could live with that."
"It's not your call." Lori reminded. "It's none of ours."
No one could force life into a man and obligate him to keep suffering. If that was what he wished, he would have it his way.
That did not make it any less devastating. Harlene let go of Dale, throwing herself onto Landon, uncertain who was meant to be comforted between them. He couldn't even embrace her. He hovered his arms so the blood on his hands would not touch his sister and her clothes would remain clean.
They were awfully speechless as Rick and Shane fetched a whimpering Jim, dragging him outside to sit him underneath a tree by the road. The view was crushing to watch — as if they were throwing out the trash.
"Hey, another damn tree," Jim joked, shallowly breathing. His lungs were on fire, slowly smothering him till death. After bleeding out for hours, his skin had taken the color of chalk. And yet, he was smiling, happy to reach an end.
Shane crouched before the man, meeting his eyes sorrily, "Hey, Jim... I mean, you know it doesn't need to be this."
"No, it's good." Jim swallowed harshly. "The breeze feels nice."
"Okay," Shane sighed, frustratedly closing his eyes. "All right." He stepped back to those behind him. It was time to say goodbye, he indicated. Heads dropped, and tears seared the eyes. Pushing through the desperation, they bid farewell to the dying man, one by one.
Jacqui kissed Jim's cheeks, crying. She told him to let go. To not fight back. Dale thanked the man for everything. Rick offered him a gun, but Jim rejected it, telling him they would need it. He was perishing anyway. And yet, he told Landon to not blame himself.
Most couldn't know what to say. When everyone hiked back to the road, Daryl and Harlene were the only ones left in front of the man. He stood distantly, clutching his crossbow, waiting for her.
Harley kneeled by Jim. The cold earth wet her naked knees, staining them in ruin. She slid a hand into her boot and took a small knife out, "Take this. I newly sharpened—"
"I don't need it." He croaked. "You do."
"I have another." She pushed it into his hand and pressed his fist to his chest. "Take this as a choice. Not as a weapon."
He understood what she meant. Despite that, he chuckled. It was hysterical — ironically tragic. Maybe killing himself was the merciful path. Maybe he'd find the courage, so he held onto it.
"Goodbye, Jim."
"Goodbye."
Daryl watched as the girl squeezed her fists so hard her knuckles paled into bone white. She let go and didn't look back, down the hill and into the truck with haste. He nodded at Jim, and the bitten man gave him a crooked smile. That was good enough for a last goodbye.
When Daryl was back in his driver's seat, he glanced at the bent double girl beside him, "You okay?"
"Yeah," Harley whispered.
She watched Jim's body slump against the great oak tree as they drove away. They left him behind. Alone, to suffer till the end, by the roadside like he meant nothing. Once again, voices thundered in her mind.
You're a miracle to this world. Don't let anyone ruin that.
They haunted her.
Night dawned eerily. Hours chased the air into a cold. By the time they had arrived at the CDC, Harlene had long fallen asleep, woken up to the slam of a car door. She rubbed her eyes tiredly. She didn't remember falling asleep, figuring she had slept over her troubles.
The sun was setting out of the window. Outside, Daryl was fiddling with his crossbow, and Rick and Shane readied guns. Running her tongue over her dried lips, she opened her door, but as she was about to get off, the seatbelt seized her. A furrow sat on her brows as she unbuckled it.
She was sure she hadn't fastened it. Her eyes flitted back to the man crossing an arrow into his bow. The pit of her heart caved. He was more considerate than all who failed to do justice to him, even himself.
She stumbled to Rick, then, "Hey, Sheriff, got one for me?"
"Hey, Harley," Rick greeted. "Here." He picked a Glock 9 out of the bag. His fingers were hesitant to let go as she grasped the handgun, but he was aware she could handle herself. What worried him was how easily she seemed to embrace the danger it brought with a stiff lip.
"It's alright," Shane mumbled as if he noticed his conflict, glancing between his partner and the girl. "She knows how to handle a gun."
"Taught by the best, huh?"
Rick grinned, and so did Shane with hope, but Harlene stayed toneless. She checked the bullets, locked the gun, and rolled her wrists to get used to its weight before tucking it into the rear of her jeans.
"Right," Shane cleared his throat. "Let's go." He signaled to the rest of the group and they stepped onto the pavement with their lead. "Alright, everybody, keep moving."
With only a few steps into the gates, the scenery was awful. What was left of the military fort was wiped out. Rotting corpses on the concrete spewed a horrible smell that shifted stomachs. Flies flew around, and crows feasted on soured meat. People started to groan and gag. They covered their mouths and noses, narrowing their eyes. It did not matter. The bodies were like tiles, side by side for meters, leaving barely any floor to step on. There were so many of them, one could count the place a graveyard, its frightening silence present.
"Alright, keep quiet. Come on." Shane encouraged, unfurling a path through the dead with Rick. "Keep it together."
Like Lori and Carol clutching their children, Dale grabbed Harlene's hand as she coughed into her elbow and nearly lost balance. Beside Landon, her free hand was tightly wrapped around her weapon. Her eyes watered in anxiety between the men's warnings, and the condition of the place butchered her hopes with each forced step. It was a low chance the inside of the building was any better than the outside.
When they reached the metal shutters, Rick and Shane didn't waste another moment to force them open. They pounded and pushed, but it was to no avail. The blinds rattled boomingly, drawing military-uniformed and lab-coated prowlers to the noise, never to unlock.
"There's nobody here," T-Dog said.
Rick turned to him with heavy breaths, "Then why are these shutters down?"
"Walkers!" Daryl exclaimed. He shot an arrow through one's head, stomping toward their leader, "You led us into a graveyard!"
"He made a call!" Dale defended.
"It was the wrong damn call!"
Sophia and Carl began shrieking in fear. The fright in them made Shane walk up to the redneck threateningly, jabbing a finger to his chest, "Just shut up! You hear me?! Shut up! Shut up!" He sighed and pivoted to his partner, "Rick, this is a dead-end. Do you hear me? No blame."
"Where are we gonna go?" Carol questioned.
"She's right." Lori frantically nodded. "We can't be here, this close to the city after dark!"
"Fort Benning, Rick, still an option."
"On what?" Harley scoffed. "No food. No fuel. That's a hundred miles!"
Glenn wiped the sweat off of his worried face. "125. I checked the map." He awkwardly corrected, earning an irritated glare.
"Forget Fort Benning!" Lori shouted. "We need answers tonight! Now!"
"We'll think of something!"
"Come on! Please, let's get out of here!"
Daryl's arrows continued to pierce the air, fueling the chaos. T-Dog and Shane began pushing everyone back to the cars. Her breaths cut off. The shouting was so loud, and the panic was so tense that Harlene felt the ground slipping from beneath her feet. Ironically, they refused to move when her brother and grandfather latched onto the girl.
"Alright, let's go! Everybody move!"
"Go back to the cars!"
"The camera!" Rick suddenly clamored, pausing everyone. He pointed at the round device on top of the shutters, "It moved!"
"You imagined it," Dale claimed.
"It moved."
"Rick, it's dead, man. It's an automated device. It's gears, okay? They're just winding down." Shane grumbled. "Now, come on!"
"It moved!"
Shane tried to pull the insistent man back. He growled wearily as his partner fought him off, "Just listen to me, man! Look around this place! It's dead, okay?! It's dead! You need to let it go, Rick!"
"Rick, there's nobody here!" Lori cried out.
Rick ignored them. He escaped Shane's arms and leaped forward, angrily slamming his hands on the shutters, "I know you're in there! I know you can hear me! Please, we're desperate!"
"Everybody, get back to the cars! Go now!"
"Lillie, come on, sweetheart, we have to go!" Dale futilely implored. He turned to his grandson in concern, "Is she in shock?"
"No, Pa, just stubborn!" Landon grunted. He tossed his gun to Glenn and strived to get his rigid sister moving. With a bent knee, his arms wrapped around her waist, throwing her over his shoulder. With Daryl leading them on, they began running back.
"Please help us! We have women, children, no food, and hardly any gas left! We have nowhere else to go!" Rick continued begging. He was so determined it put him in a trance, making him overlook his wife's pleas.
"Rick! Rick, there's nobody here!"
"If you don't let us in, you're killing us! Please!"
As a last endeavor, Shane latched himself onto Rick's torso. He was more adamant this time and yanked his partner away. Rick couldn't fight back anymore. But his screams broke everyone's heart into pieces.
"You're killing us! You're killing us!"
Until the shutters squeaked loudly to cut everyone's voices off, the CDC building's doors opened, and a blinding light burst from inside...