In the tranquil setting of Alexandria, an air of calm prevails, the community blissfully unaware of the intense events unfolding outside of the walls. Some residents continue with their daily routines, while a couple of vigilant souls keep watch, expecting the return of their group to be routine. The day unfolds under the assumption that all will remain as peaceful as it can be in this haven.
Seated at a table, Esperanza and Freya share a space filled with an unspoken tension. Since Esperanza's arrival, their exchanges have been limited, a palpable unease lingering in the air.
Freya, haunted by the memory of Esperanza's outburst, feels a sense of curiosity and concern about the turmoil that may be brewing within the enigmatic girl. The two women lock eyes, a silent exchange laden with unspoken questions and a hesitant acknowledgment of the underlying tension that has yet to be addressed.
Esperanza, caught in the weight of her own emotions, breaks eye contact and looks down with a tinge of shame. The memory of snapping at the other woman lingers, a regrettable outburst that has left an indelible mark on the atmosphere. The reasons for her emotional turmoil remain cloaked in mystery, creating a barrier between her and the woman across the table. In the quiet of the moment, Esperanza grapples with the internal storm, aware of the need to navigate the delicate balance between vulnerability and the guarded exterior she has meticulously maintained.
Esperanza's sigh resonates through the room as she delicately places the fork on the plate, a moment of shared acknowledgment between her and Freya as their eyes meet. "I am sorry for how I snapped at you earlier. I shouldn't have. I just—"
Freya responds with a small, understanding smile, her eyes reflecting empathy. "It's okay, I pushed you too far. Each one of us has stories about how it made us the way we are, and we don't want to share. Some things are better left unsaid."
Despite the apology, Esperanza persists in her remorse. "Still, I apologize; it's not who I am." Her sincerity prompts Freya to reach across the table, placing a comforting hand atop Esperanza's. "I want to get to know you, and I want you to know me, but—"
"We don't have to share our deepest, darkest truths to get to know each other. We can start with the easy stuff, like..." Freya's voice trails off, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. "What's your favorite color?"
Esperanza lightens the mood with a playful remark. "Oh, you crossed a line." A shared moment of laughter breaks the lingering tension. "It's red. It was my mother's favorite color as well."
"Mine's pink. Cliché, I know," Freya confesses with a self-deprecating mutter. The exchange of smiles between them continues, creating a small bubble of connection. "I had a brother, his name was Josh. He died before the world fell."
"I'm sorry for your loss; grief is a disease," Esperanza points out, and the two women intertwine their fingers, establishing a silent connection. She withdraws her hand from Freya's touch, a subtle retreat that speaks volumes. "I only met my siblings a while back, after the world fell," she adds, her gaze drifting downwards. "It's a long story. I'd rather not talk about it."
Freya responds with a warm smile, nodding in understanding. "See, communication. We're good at this," she teases lightly, prompting another shared moment of laughter. "What's your favorite food? I'll have to cook it for our second date."
Esperanza's eyes widen at the mention of a date, causing her to stammer, "D-date?"
Freya, with a cheeky grin, nods affirmatively. "I like you, Esperanza."
"You just met me three days ago," Esperanza speaks in disbelief, slightly shaking her head in confusion. "You don't even know me."
Freya, unfazed, shrugs, maintaining an intense gaze on Esperanza, who shies away. "That's why I'm trying to get to know you," she declares, a genuine smile playing on her lips. As Esperanza keeps her eyes on the ground, her cheeks take on a subtle tint of red under Freya's unwavering attention. "All of you."
Summoning courage, Esperanza slowly lifts her gaze, meeting Freya's eyes. A shared smile flickers between them, an unspoken connection sparking in the charged air. Esperanza bites her lip, a subtle yet telling gesture of anticipation. Rising from her chair, Freya extends her hand, an invitation that Esperanza doesn't hesitate to accept.
As they stand face to face, Freya's hand delicately cradles Esperanza's face, a tender touch that resonates with unspoken emotions. Leaning in, Freya captures Esperanza's lips in a gentle kiss, a moment suspended in time. However, the tranquility is shattered by sudden screams echoing from outside.
Freya pulls away abruptly, concern etching her features. Both women rush toward the window, their eyes widening with apprehension.
"What's going on out there?" Freya demands, her voice laced with worry.
As they peer through the window, glimpses of panic and disorder become apparent. Freya's hand tightens around Esperanza's, a silent reassurance amidst the chaos. The source of the commotion remains a mystery, but their shared gaze reflects a determination to navigate through the storm together.
Esperanza's eyes widen in horror as an unidentified man ruthlessly takes down members of their community. A sense of dread clenches at her heart, and she instinctively starts to flee, the urgency to reach her siblings propelling her forward. However, Freya intervenes, restraining her with a firm grip.
"I need to get to my siblings." Esperanza breathes out, her pulse quickening. "I-I need to go home."
Freya holds her back with a determined expression. "Wait. We need weapons. You think they'll let you walk down the streets and not bother you?!" Her tone is sharp as she strides into the living room, seizing two spears. "I used to spear fish on runs; I'll always keep it in the house."
"I-I don't know how to use it."
"Come on, I'll be there with you. It'll be fine," Freya reassures Esperanza, her grip on the spear firm as she intertwines her fingers with Esperanza's hand.
As Freya and Esperanza exit the house, the air is thick with tension and urgency. Freya, with a swift and practiced motion, hurls her weapon at one of the assailants attempting to breach their home. The spear finds its mark, piercing the man's chest with a sickening thud. Without missing a beat, Freya retrieves her spear, her movements deliberate and efficient, as she pivots to dispatch another threat with lethal precision.
The chaos intensifies as one of the Ws, fueled by aggression, attempts to swing a hammer at Esperanza. In a display of remarkable agility, she deftly swerves the attack, countering swiftly by thrusting her spear into the assailant's head. The gruesome impact paints Esperanza's face with a splatter of blood. Taking a moment to collect herself, she extracts the spear from the lifeless assailant, twirling it in her fingers.
Amidst the onslaught, another W approaches Esperanza, and she uses her spear to strike the back of the man's knee, causing him to buckle and fall to the ground. Seizing the opportune moment, Freya closes in from behind, swiftly ending the threat with a decisive blow.
Freya narrows her eyes at Esperanza, skepticism etched across her features. "You sure you've never used one before?"
Esperanza shifts her gaze downward, evading the probing question. "We have to find out what's going on," she asserts, brushing off Freya's insinuation with a quiet determination.
"Watch out!"
A man emerges from the shadows, and without a moment's hesitation, Freya instinctively positions herself in front of Esperanza, shielding her from the imminent danger. The deafening sound of a gunshot echoes, and Freya staggers, a searing pain seeping through her.
The assailant crumples to the ground, lifeless not a second layer. Oblivious to the abrupt turn of events, Esperanza gazes down at Freya, cradling her in her arms. Tara rushes over to join them, the gravity of the situation unfolding in a surreal tableau.
Freya winces, her face contorted in pain as Esperanza inspects the gunshot wound. Tara, quick on her feet, begins to secure the immediate area, ensuring there are no further threats. The scent of gunpowder lingers in the air as Esperanza, her hands steady, does her best to staunch the bleeding.
"It's okay, it's okay. You're going to be okay," Esperanza stammers, her hands trembling as she runs one over her face and places the other on Freya's wound. "Why the hell would you do that?"
A weak smile graces Freya's lips. "I promised your brother."
"Yeah, well, you're not dying either. It's not fair. We didn't even get to kiss," Esperanza attempts a slight joke, a feeble attempt to lighten the mood as Tara steps in to assist with carrying Freya.
Freya chuckles weakly, "I like when you flirt with me."
Tara interjects with a reassuring tone, "We'll get you to the infirmary. Denise is going to check you out. It's probably just a graze." Freya's arms drape over Tara's and Esperanza's shoulders as they move urgently toward the infirmary, their pace quickened in an attempt to reach safety before potential confrontation with the intruders.
Freya shakes his head, gritting his teeth against the pain with every step. "No, it's not. I can feel it. Believe me."
As they navigate the tense journey through the community, Freya's labored breathing is a stark reminder of the severity of his injury. Esperanza's concern deepens, her eyes flickering with a mix of fear and determination. The weight of Freya's promise to her brother echoes in the air, intertwining with the gravity of the situation.
Esperanza glances toward Freya, her gaze filled with a mixture of affection and worry. "You better not leave me like this, you hear?"
Freya manages a strained laugh. "Not planning on it."
Tara keeps a watchful eye on their surroundings, her focus split between ensuring Freya's swift transport and scanning for any potential threats. The urgency intensifies as they draw closer to the infirmary, the distant sounds of commotion amplifying the tension in the air.
As they approach the infirmary's entrance, the atmosphere shifts, and Esperanza's thoughts race between the uncertainty of the situation and the shared moments with Freya that now hang in the balance. The impending confrontation with the intruders looms, casting a shadow over their desperate dash to secure Freya's survival.
They reach the infirmary, Esperanza bursting through the doors to see a frightened Denise but when Denise recognises their faces, her relief in her face is recognisable.
"We need the operating table prepped. She's lost a lot of blood," Esperanza urgently calls out, her voice a fervent command as they maneuver Freya toward the table.
Denise swiftly moves into action, scurrying around to gather the medical supplies required to assist Freya. Esperanza, teeth gritted, applies pressure to the wound, a desperate attempt to stem the life-threatening bleeding.
"Come on, come on, come on," Esperanza mutters through clenched teeth, the urgency hanging palpably in the air as they lift Freya onto the operating table.
Denise, with a sense of urgency, starts preparing for the procedure. She cuts away Freya's clothes, revealing the bullet wound. Gently turning her sideways, Denise assesses the situation, her heart heavy with the weight of responsibility to keep Freya alive. Esperanza breathes down on her neck, the shared burden of saving a life adding an extra layer of tension to the room.
"How many people are out there?" Denise asks, attempting to redirect the focus away from the critical situation at hand.
Esperanza shrugs, her attention solely fixed on Freya's critical condition. Unbeknownst to them, Eugene, Rosita, and Aaron quietly enter the infirmary, their presence an unspoken acknowledgment of the dire circumstances.
"How many?"
"I don't know, there's a lot," Esperanza responds, her voice strained with the gravity of the situation, unaware of the additional support that has just entered the room.
"Rosita, you know how to stick an IV?" Denise queries, glancing back at Rosita, who nods in acknowledgment. She swiftly retrieves the IV and the drip, prepared for the medical task ahead.
"Here, hand me tape," Rosita instructs, extending her hand for the necessary supplies. Esperanza, focused on Freya's condition, swiftly hands over the tape. With precision, Rosita expertly applies the tape, securing the IV in place for Freya. "Got it."
Freya mutters weakly, her eyes slightly rolling to the back of her head. "That hurt!"
Denise, engrossed in her medical duties, addresses the urgency of the situation. "What about the air horn? What's happening?" She anxiously waits for the sedation to take effect before attempting to remove the bullet fragments embedded in Freya's abdomen.
Esperanza, frustration evident in her demeanor, remains focused on Freya. "I don't know. You just need to help her, so focus."
Aaron, sensing the escalating danger outside, calls out as he grabs his weapon. "I'm going to go help."
Tara, her expression determined, secures a gun from her waist. "Me too. I need to try."
Rosita's gaze lingers on the stressed doctor, a heaviness in the air as she breaks the news. "Denise, I'm gonna have to go, too."
Freya reaches up, her hand finding Esperanza's, and the two share a silent exchange of reassurance. Esperanza clings to her partner's hand, a silent plea resonating in the way she tightens her grip, praying silently that this won't separate them.
"So do you, Esperanza," Freya adds, a directive that carries a weight Esperanza is hesitant to bear.
She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm not leaving you."
"Listen, we just met the other day, and I've been having the most wonderful time with you," Freya murmurs, her words carrying a blend of fondness and urgency. "I know I'll fall in love again, maybe you will, too." Esperanza's eyes glisten with tears, Freya, however, continues to gaze deeply into her eyes. "You're a good person, you save people... you want to help... it's what made me notice you. So, you have to go out there and help them." A bittersweet smile plays on Esperanza's lips, and she squeezes Freya's hand in return. "When it's over, you come back here and you better kiss me."
Esperanza chuckles through her tears. "Okay."
After Nicholas and Heath had forcefully dragged Glenn away, determined to separate him from Madeleine, Glenn summoned a surge of resilience. Swiftly he managed to land a well-aimed punch on Nicholas, breaking free and sprinting back toward the truck spot where Madeleine valiantly fought off the relentless onslaught of walkers.
By the time he arrived, the field of undead foes lay vanquished, and Madeleine was making her way toward her bike, a subtle triumph in her every step. Glenn hurriedly caught up, his relief palpable as he pulled her into a tight embrace, his heart still racing from the fear of losing her.
As Glenn gently pulls away, concern etched on his face, he can't help but scold her, "That was incredibly stupid."
"So was not listening to me," Madeleine retorts, a playful glint in her eyes as she gestures toward the lifeless walkers surrounding them. "I had it."
"Sure." Glenn rolls his eyes, his tone softening as Heath and Nicholas catch up with him. "I'm scared."
Madeleine offers him a reassuring smile, understanding the weight of his words. "You should be. It means you care," she points out, her hand gently resting on his chest. "You'll make it back to her. You'll be a great father, Glenn. And I'm going to be the cool aunt."
Glenn's laughter echoes through the somber air, a rare moment of lightness that draws a tight smile from Madeleine. These instances, when she teases, laughs, or cracks a joke, hold a special place in his heart.
"Well, one day you'll have your own. I'll be Uncle Glenn, the best uncle out there," he playfully suggests, but she responds with a tight smile before averting her gaze, her thoughts momentarily distant. "Hey, how'd you find out?" Glenn inquires, breaking the brief silence.
Madeleine raises an eyebrow in response. "It's me, and you're you," she quips, a subtle acknowledgment of their shared history and understanding.
Understanding dawns on Glenn's face. "Touché."
With a final hug, Madeleine mounts the bike, ready to rendezvous with Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham. Meanwhile, Glenn, accompanied by Heath and Nicholas, prepares to venture into the woods to join Rick and the rest of the group. A wave of reassurance passes between them as Madeleine revs the engine, the sound of the motorcycle blending with the tension of the impending mission.
As Madeleine rides away, Glenn grabs the radio, bringing it to his lips. A warm smile graces his face as he speaks into the device, "I'll see you soon, dumbass."
Madeleine shakes her head at his words, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she grabs her radio. "Good luck, dumbass."
After a tense and strategic maneuver through the chaos of roads, Madeleine takes a decisive turn and reunites with her team. Riding alongside Daryl, Sasha and Abraham trail behind in a car, a silent exchange of nods reflecting the unspoken camaraderie between them.
Daryl, seizing the radio, breaks the anxious silence, relief palpable in his voice as he speaks, "Rick! Mads is with us now."
However, the expected acknowledgment from Rick remains absent, leaving an uneasy tension hanging in the air. Madeleine reaches for her own radio, suspicion etched across her features. "What's going on back there?"
Rick's voice crackles through the radio, revealing a sobering truth, "Half of them broke off. They're going toward Alexandria."
The revelation sends a shiver down Madeleine's spine, and she shares a concerned glance with Daryl. "Towards you?"
"We ran ahead. There's a horn or something. Loud, coming from the east. It's not stopping," Rick explains, the urgency in his words underscoring the severity of the situation.
Daryl cuts through the tension, his voice determined, "I'm gonna gas it up, turn back."
"We have it. You four keep going."
Daryl's voice crackles through the radio, a hint of urgency cutting through the air as he notices the distant look in Madeleine's eyes. "They're gonna need our help."
Rick's authoritative tone joins the conversation, a directive issued over the radio waves. "Hey! Gotta keep the herd moving."
Daryl scoffs, a shake of his head underscoring his disagreement with Rick's command. "Not if it's going down, we don't."
Madeleine, refusing to let her father's voice permeate the radio again, accelerates, the hum of her bike blending with the urgency in her veins. She skillfully swerves at the next intersection, a calculated move born out of the realization that without controlling the herd, the potential walkers will cause more damage.
Sasha's voice rings out, an exclamation of concern cutting through the radio frequency. "Mads, don't!"
Abraham, observing the unfolding spectacle, shakes his head with a scoff, tracking Madeleine as her figure and the whirr of her bike vanish into the distance. "What is she doing?"
Sasha scoffs, her words carrying a knowing undercurrent. "No one can ever stop that girl! She's so stubborn."
Daryl's voice crackles through the radio, a sense of urgency cutting through the air. "Hey! Come back!"
The words reverberate in the tense silence, reaching Rick's ears as he stands, a palpable unease settling in. Running a hand through his hair, Rick grapples with the weight of Daryl's message. "She went after them?" The concern in his voice mirrors the anxiety etched across his face.
Madeleine's response filters through the radio, her voice carrying a cool assurance. "I got it handled." Her words, though seemingly confident, fail to fully assuage the tension hanging in the air.
Sasha gaze fixates on Daryl. "You can't go after her. She made her choice, and we need you."
Daryl, grappling with a sense of helplessness, slightly glances back at Sasha over his shoulder. The ache in his heart intensifies as the weight of the known fate that may befall his wife in the perilous pursuit becomes all too real. He shakes his head, a subtle yet resolute denial, acknowledging the painful truth that he cannot be there to prevent what might unfold.
Amidst the cacophony of terrified screams in Alexandria, Esperanza's authoritative voice pierces through the chaos. "Shoot first, ask questions later," she commands, her words cutting through the tumultuous atmosphere. "Rosita, check the armory, make sure they can't get in. Tara, Aaron, spread out. Let's end these motherfuckers," she directs, her orders met with a sense of urgency as her team disperses to fulfill their assigned tasks.
In the heat of the battle, Esperanza finds herself surrounded. The man with a sinister 'W' branded on his forehead circles her, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. "I didn't know you had so many guns," he taunts, unaware of Esperanza's calculated move.
Esperanza, with a smirk of her own, deliberately drops her gun, diverting the man's attention. Swiftly, she retrieves a knife from her ankle, concealing it with a practiced finesse. "Wait until you see the knives," she quips, throwing one with deadly accuracy at the man's head.
The surprise on his face registers briefly before succumbing to his last breath. Morgan stands by her side, a silent ally in the chaos. Together, they silently watch the onslaught of more adversaries sporting the ominous 'W.' The odds beginning to tip against them as the eerie symbols multiply, encircling them in an ominous dance of impending death.
Whispers of impending danger brush through the air as Esperanza leans in, her voice barely audible in the charged atmosphere, "It's them."
Morgan, standing back to back with her, sighs with a discerning gaze fixed on the approaching men. "Your sister was right."
Esperanza, feeling a flicker of annoyance, rolls her eyes, hoping desperately that the rest of them arrive in time to turn the tide. A subtle worry gnaws at the edges of her thoughts, questioning whether they'll ever make it back or what might have gone wrong in their seemingly straightforward plan.
"She's always right, and I'm starting to hate it," she confesses with a rueful glance around at the encroaching group of menacing figures.
Among them, one of the Ws attempts to lunge at Morgan, but the man effortlessly knocks him down with a swift motion of his stick.
"This isn't good. See how they're slowly surrounding us? And they have sticks and knives," she points out, her gaze shifting to the ominous weapons. "And I think that guy is carrying a chainsaw?"
"You ready?"
A wry smile plays on her lips as she responds, "Nope."
Esperanza's scream pierces the air, a sharp note of desperation as she hurls herself towards one of the attackers. Morgan, quick to respond, rushes over to assist. The chaos unfolds, and Maggie, armed and resolute, joins the fray. Shots ring out, urgency etched across her face, she hands a gun to Esperanza.
"Where's Mads?" she questions urgently, the gravity of the situation evident in her voice.
"I don't know," Esperanza's gaze darts down the street, the familiar surroundings now transformed into a battleground. "I need to get to them."
A silent understanding passes between the two women as they exchange a glance, a shared determination to navigate through the chaos and reach their missing companion. The urgency intensifies as they sprint down the street, the echoes of screams lingering in the air like a haunting refrain.
Meanwhile, Morgan, having dealt with the last of the assailants in their immediate vicinity, veers in the opposite direction. His mission is clear—to ensure the safety of the others and secure the area from any lingering threats.
As Abraham and Sasha navigate the desolate landscape inside the car, the palpable tension is further amplified by Daryl on his bike, his worry etched on his face as he contemplates the fate of his wife, who has yet to make contact. The radio remains ominously silent, and Daryl can only assume the worst.
Abruptly, Abraham leans out of the car window, breaking the silence. "The horn stopped."
"Thank god," Sasha breathes out.
Daryl, driving alongside the car, can't shake the gnawing concern for Madeleine. "Hey, we gone five miles out yet?"
Abraham, narrowing his eyes at the inquiry, responds, "Give or take some yardage. You got a reason for asking?"
"Next intersection I'm gonna spin around and go back," Daryl declares, a determination etched in his voice.
Sasha, anticipating Daryl's intentions, shakes her head. "The plan is to go 15 more."
Daryl, however, remains resolute in his decision. "Yeah, I'm gonna change that. Five's gonna have to work."
Abraham stands firm, his voice cutting through the air as he insists, his gaze fixed on Daryl through the open window. "The magic number's 20. That's the mission," he declares with an irked expression. "That's making sure they're off munching on infirm raccoons the rest of their undead lives instead of any of us."
Daryl's eyes are distant as he absorbs Abraham's words. "Listen, I can't let her do this alone," he states with a sense of conviction, his eyes locked on the road ahead.
Sasha, her hands steady on the wheel, glances at Daryl through the rearview mirror. "You want to go, we can't stop you. But without you, they could stop us," she points out.
The man simply shrugs, knowing that nothing will change his mind. The pull to be by his wife's side is too strong, and the need to ascertain her safety is a force that cannot be ignored.
"She needs me, and I got faith in you," he asserts, his tone resolute as he braces himself for the journey ahead.
Abraham's protest echoes through the air. "Don't do it, man!"
But Daryl pays little heed to the warning, his foot pressing on the gas pedal, propelling the bike forward. The engine roars to life as he speeds down the road, eyes scanning each intersection, his determination unwavering.
His mind is consumed with thoughts of her safety, and the uncertainty gnaws at him. The landscape blurs as he speeds through, leaving behind a trail of dust and determination in his wake.
As Madeleine maneuvers through the desolate road, the persistent growls of the undead serve as an unsettling symphony in the background. Glenn's voice crackles through the radio, cutting through the air with a sense of urgency that mirrors the gravity of their situation.
"Rick, Mads, it's Glenn."
Madeleine, focused on the road ahead, glances down at the device in her hand. Frustration lines her face as she gives it a sharp rap against the frame of her motorcycle, attempting to coax a clearer signal. The radio, however, remains stubbornly uncooperative. Fed up with the machine's unreliable nature, she casts it back over her shoulder with a sharp, practiced throw, the device connecting with the decaying skull of a pursuing walker.
Glenn's voice persists, crackling through the airwaves with crucial information. "We're in a town five degrees east of the green marker. If you get around on Redding in the next 20 minutes, you should be good. I think that's how far we're ahead of the herd. I'm gonna try to set a fire and distract them. If you don't see smoke, they're still coming your way. I got to go. Mads, good luck, dumbass."
Denise's trembling hands hover above Freya's lifeless form as she endeavors to revive her. The woman had stopped breathing after the removal of the last fragment, and time seems to slip through Denise's fingers like grains of sand.
The heart machine's insistent beeping only amplifies the urgency of the situation. The sound becomes a frantic rhythm, mirroring the palpitations in Denise's chest. The seconds stretch into eternity, and just when the fear of losing Freya becomes almost unbearable, the resuscitative efforts bear fruit. The heart machine's steady beep returns, and Denise exhales a sigh of profound relief.
"Okay, I believe my genius can try to help you and this lost horse. So what do you need? We can save her, right?" Eugene interjects, Denise's shaky hands reach for the needle as she contemplates stitching Freya up. "Just a couple of stitches, right?"
"Maybe if I was a surgeon, I'd save her, but this... I don't know what I'm doing," Denise confesses, her gaze torn between Freya's still form and the erratic heartbeat on the monitor.
Eugene points out, "You were gonna be a surgeon."
"But I'm not," Denise retorts, frustration lacing her words as doubt and self-critique mingle in her mind. The door creaks open, and Tara strides into the room, catching Denise off guard. A frown creases Denise's forehead as confusion colors her expression. "What are you doing here?"
"She was protecting Esperanza. She was killing for us. That's why we're here, for each other. You're afraid? I don't care. Help her. Try! Help her! You don't want to be a coward," Tara urges, her words cutting through the air with a sense of urgency and conviction.
Denise takes a deep breath, and her hands move with newfound purpose, guided by Tara's impassioned plea. Each stitch becomes a testament to courage in the face of fear and the resilience of humanity in a world overshadowed by chaos.
In the midst of the chaos, Maggie takes swift action, hoisting Esperanza's arm over her shoulder, guiding her towards a secluded corner away from the relentless attackers. Esperanza winces in pain, her hiss escaping through gritted teeth as they find refuge behind the corner. Peering cautiously around the edge, Maggie attempts to catch a glimpse of the interior where Carl and Enid are situated.
Kneeling down in front of Esperanza, Maggie reassures her, "Carl's safe. He's with Enid." Swiftly, she retrieves a flannel and wraps it around Esperanza's wounded arm. "Your arm is bleeding."
With a sarcastic hiss, Esperanza retorts, "Oh really? I hadn't noticed that half of my goddamn blood that's supposed to be inside my body is dripping down my arm. Thanks for letting me know, Maggie."
"Shut up! No time for your sarcasm. We need to take you to the infirmary," Maggie admonishes, glancing around to assess the aftermath of their encounter. Bodies are scattered, remnants of the struggle against the Ws who are no longer in sight. "We're safe for now. Let's go!"
Esperanza resists, hissing through her teeth as Maggie helps her up. "No," she insists, her determination evident despite the pain. "I need to see Carl and Judith with my own two eyes first."
Maggie rolls her eyes, sharing an amused glance with Esperanza as they help her navigate towards the house. The atmosphere is tense as they push open the creaky doors, revealing the dimly lit interior. In an instant, their eyes lock onto Carl, who stands vigilant, pointing a gun in their direction. The air tightens with uncertainty until Carl's eyes widen in recognition, and he sighs in relief at the sight of Esperanza. A subtle nod from him reassures the group before Esperanza, filled with relief, rushes forward to envelop Carl in a tight hug.
"Where's Mads?" Carl's concern cuts through the moment, causing Esperanza's expression to falter as she pulls away. "She's not here."
"I-I don't know. I haven't seen any of them. I don't think they've come back yet." Carl's gaze drops, and he lets out a heavy sigh. Esperanza attempts to comfort him, glancing back at the concerned Maggie. "Hey, they'll be back. They will be back. All of them."
Carl observes the blood covering Esperanza with worry etched across his features. "What the hell happened?"
"Listen, we got attacked by the Ws," Esperanza explains, her hand gently resting on Carl's cheek as she discreetly checks for any wounds. "Don't worry, everyone is safe. We're all safe. We took care of it, but they might come back. We need help."
"They're gonna come back to help us," Carl asserts confidently, nodding his head with determination. Enid exchanges a concerned look with Maggie, the weight of the situation sinking in as Carl continues, "Dad and Mads and Daryl and Glenn, all of them. They will. They heard the gunshots by now!"
Rick's voice crackles through the radio, a thread of uncertainty woven into the static. He sits in the RV, unaware of the chaos that unfolded within the walls of Alexandria.
"I'm in place by my best guess. You guys make it back yet?" The question hangs in the air, the static hiss providing no immediate answers. "Glenn." More static, a disconcerting absence of response. "Mads, you there?" The silence amplifies, his unease deepening. "Daryl?"
On the other end of the radio, Daryl's gruff voice cuts through the static. "I'm here." He glances toward his side, where his wife maneuvers the vehicle alongside him. "She's with me."
As they take a crucial turn, Sasha and Abraham come into view, still driving ahead with the relentless herd trailing behind them. The smaller herd that had initially followed Madeleine and Daryl now seamlessly merges with the larger one.
"You shouldn't have done that," Sasha calls out from the car window as Madeleine deftly maneuvers her bike alongside the car, maintaining a steady speed.
Madeleine rolls her eyes. "I'm back, aren't I?"
Meanwhile, Rick's voice echoes through Daryl's radio. "Won't be long now. They're almost here. I'll get the rest of them going your way again."
Sasha smiles, giving Madeleine a knowing look who replies by rolling her eyes again at the woman. "How 'bout that, guys? He's gonna be coming our way."
"There's gunfire coming from back home. We gotta sit with it." Rick announces and Madeleine looks over at Daryl who's staring at her already, "Esperanza and all of them, they can handle it. I think they can."
Madeleine slightly speeds up, and she swiftly seizes the radio from Daryl's outstretched hand. "They have to. We keep going for them. Can't turn back 'cause ya'll afraid."
Abraham's voice crackles through the radio, determined and resolute, "We ain't afraid."
"This is for them. Going back now before it's done, that'd be for us. The herd has to be almost here," Rick declares, and just as the weight of his words settles in, his voice is abruptly cut off.
"Rick? Rick?"
Denise releases a relieved exhale, sinking back into the worn chair in the infirmary. Her eyes shift toward Tara, who reciprocates the sentiment with a warm smile.
Esperanza enters the infirmary, her eyes immediately drawn to the bed where the girl lies. Overwhelmed by a rush of emotion, tears stream down her face—a manifestation of the profound relief that courses through her.
Witnessing the emotional tableau, Rosita strides into the infirmary, joining Tara's side. Esperanza, still overwhelmed by the mixture of joy and concern, walks to Freya's bedside. Tenderly, she places a hand on the girl's cheek, as if seeking reassurance in the simple contact.
Yet, beneath the surface of Esperanza's composed exterior, a storm of emotions brews. The pain that had been a constant companion, etched into her arms, begins to dissolve with each passing second, replaced by an undercurrent of anger.
Turning away, Esperanza starts to walk away, her steps measured but purposeful. However, her path is intercepted by Rosita, who positions herself in front of the door.
"Where are you going?"
"We've killed the Ws. I'm going to radio them, and then I'm going to try to find them," she announces, her voice carrying a determined edge that echoes through the tense atmosphere.
Rosita shakes her head, "I'm not letting you out of these walls," she insists, her protective instincts surfacing in the aftermath of the chaos.
"Well, Ro, they easily got inside so I'm sure I'll find a way out. Now get out of my way, and I'll give you this..." Esperanza's grip tightens around the axe she's holding out to Rosita. "axe."
"Listen, she-."
Esperanza cuts Tara off, her frustration evident. "You better not tell me that she wouldn't want me doing this. I barely know her, and she took a bullet for me! I like her, and she could've died 'cause of me," Esperanza argues vehemently, the blood dripping down her arm. "So, I'm going to find them, 'cause they could need help. Like we did."
Maggie intervenes, pointing toward Denise. "Your arm is bleeding; let her patch you up."
Esperanza rolls her eyes in reluctant agreement as Denise approaches her, swiftly addressing the wound. The heated emotions coursing through her, however, keep her from voicing her gratitude. As she prepares to leave, she raises her other hand in a dismissive gesture, purposefully brushing shoulders with Rosita.
"Do you trust her to do this alone?" Rosita's concern lingers, echoing the apprehension shared by the others.
Maggie shakes her head, "No, but I trust her anger right now."
☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎
Thank you for reading ❤️