The people of Alexandria gather anxiously, the air thick with palpable tension as the growls of the relentless walkers reverberate beyond the walls. The haunting echoes serve as a chilling reminder of the perilous situation that has unfolded after Rick lost contact with his team. Determined to find Glenn and faced with unforeseen challenges, Rick's journey took a dark turn when he encountered a hostile stranger. In a gripping struggle for survival, Rick managed to gain the upper hand, but the RV succumbed to the strain, breaking down in the midst of the ominous wilderness.
Alone and surrounded by the relentless onslaught of walkers, Rick's only option was to run. He sprinted tirelessly, each step a desperate attempt to distance himself from the encroaching herd. The haunting growls of the undead echoed in his ears as he pushed his limits, driven by the primal instinct for survival. With each stride, the realization that the very fabric of safety was unraveling hung heavily in the air.
The relentless pursuit of the walkers became an unrelenting symphony of danger, a cacophony that mirrored the chaos within Rick's own mind. His thoughts raced alongside his pounding footsteps. The gates of Alexandria loomed ahead, a distant beacon of hope in the sea of impending doom. The once-familiar walls, now both a barrier and a haven, offered a glimpse of salvation as Rick sprinted towards the sanctuary that held the promise of safety.
As the citizens of Alexandria bear witness to the ominous sounds beyond their walls, unaware of the dire circumstances that led Rick to their doorstep, the air becomes charged with uncertainty. The very foundation of their secure haven teeters on the edge, and the growls of the walkers serve as a stark reminder that danger, relentless and unforgiving, encircles their once-peaceful enclave.
The air in Alexandria thickens with tension as Rick addresses the anxious crowd, his gaze sweeping across faces etched with worry, their eyes darting nervously between the towering walls that seem to close in on them.
"You can hear it. Some of you saw it. They got back here, half of them. Still enough to surround us 20 deep," Rick declares, his voice carrying the weight of the grim reality that looms outside the vulnerable walls. The people of Alexandria cast uneasy glances toward the imposing structure, as if questioning its ability to withstand the impending threat. "Look, I know you're scared. You haven't seen anything like this. You haven't been through anything like this. But we're safe for now."
Rick's reassurance attempts to quell the rising panic within the community. His eyes make a deliberate journey, locking with each person in the crowd, offering a silent promise. "The panel the truck hit seems intact. We reinforced it just in case. Either way, the wall's gonna hold together. Can you? The others, they're gonna be back."
Rosita, standing resolute beside Esperanza with her arms crossed, chimes in, "They're gonna be back."
"Daryl, Mads, Abraham, Sasha, they have vehicles," Rick continues, his voice steadying as he endeavors to convince himself as much as the community. "They're gonna lead 'em away, just like the others. And Glenn and Nicholas are gonna walk back through the front gate after."
Maggie with a glimmer of hope in her eyes, steps forward slightly, acknowledging Rick's words. "They know what they're doing, and we know what we need to do." Rick pauses, the weight of the moment bearing down on him. "We keep noise to a minimum. Pull our blinds at night. Even better, keep the lights out. We'll try to make this place as quiet as a graveyard, see if they move on."
"This place is a graveyard," Francine retorts, her voice cutting through the uneasy silence as the continuous growls and bangs outside intensify.
Esperanza steps forward, her gaze locking onto Rick with a knowing look as she directs her words toward Francine. "The quarry broke open, and those walkers were heading this way. All of them. The plan that Rick put into place stopped that from happening. He got half of them away."
A weighted silence envelops the group, the unspoken tension lingering in the air. Aaron, burdened by guilt, takes a hesitant step forward, his conscience haunted by the repercussions of their ill-fated expedition.
"I was out there recruiting with Daryl and Mads. I wanted to try to get into a cannery and scavenge, and they wanted to keep looking for people. We did what I wanted... and we wound up in a trap set by those people. And I lost my pack." Aaron's admission is accompanied by a heavy gaze fixed on the ground, shame etched across his features. "They must've followed our tracks. Those people who attacked us... they found their way back here because of me."
Deanna, unable to meet anyone's eyes, quietly retreats, grappling with the weight of the revelation. Rick, understanding the complexities of the situation, redirects the focus away from Aaron. "There'll be more to talk about," he points out, offering a semblance of reassurance in the midst of the confessions unfolding.
Tobin's call pierces the tense atmosphere, drawing everyone's attention as Deanna strides away, each step seemingly an attempt to escape the overwhelming burden of responsibility. "Deanna? Deanna?"
Rick sighs as he approaches his daughter with a furrowed brow, concern etched in his features as he studies her with a scrutinizing gaze. "Who attacked you?"
"The Ws. I nearly died, a-a friend saved me." Esperanza mumbles, her voice soft, carrying the weight of the trauma she endured.
Rick seemingly overwhelmed with concern, envelops her in a tight embrace. She reciprocates the hug, feeling the warmth of his protective presence, while tears threaten to spill from the corners of her eyes.
Rick's murmurs brush against Esperanza's hair as they embrace, a shared sorrow palpable in the air. "I'm sorry, Esperanza," he says, pulling away to meet her eyes. His hand tenderly cups her cheek, wiping away the tears that trace her face. "I should've been here."
Esperanza shakes her head, a reassurance for both herself and Rick. She understands the weight of his responsibilities and the difficult choices he faces in the outside world. "Carl and Judith are safe; I made sure of it. Is Mads safe?"
"She will be back," Rick reassures her with a conviction that brings a semblance of solace. Esperanza nods in agreement, finding comfort in the belief that, if anyone can navigate the perilous world beyond, it's her sister. "She knows what to do. She always knows what to do."
Esperanza's gaze holds a flicker of pride for her sister's resilience, even in the face of adversity. "She was right," she asserts, acknowledging Madeleine's words.
Rick sighs, his expression a mixture of weariness and acknowledgment. He places a hand on his hip, absorbing Esperanza's words. "Yeah, she was."
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In the distance, Esperanza's keen eyes spot Maggie near the pantry, her attention drawn by a woman solemnly inscribing Glenn's name on the wall of the fallen. A surge of anger bubbles within Esperanza, yet she restrains the emotion, choosing to keep it buried beneath a stoic exterior. Determined, she silently follows Maggie, their footsteps echoing through the somber surroundings.
Maggie, engrossed in the task of hastily packing essentials into a bag, doesn't immediately register Esperanza's presence. The sight prompts a frown on Esperanza's face, a subtle reaction to the urgency in Maggie's actions. Unable to remain silent, Esperanza calls out, her voice cutting through the heavy silence.
"He's not dead," she asserts, the words carrying a quiet strength which startles Maggie, turning to face Esperanza. "He wouldn't die. He wouldn't dare break his streak with Mads. He wouldn't dare leave this world without you, Maggie."
"How's Freya?" she inquires, her tone deadpan.
"Alive," Esperanza responds bluntly, refusing to let Maggie sidestep the raw emotions surrounding Glenn.
Maggie shakes her head, a resolute expression replacing the vulnerability that flickered in her eyes. "I want to go find him." The lump in her throat is palpable, and she turns away, focusing on the practical task of securing guns. "Do you want to come with me?"
Esperanza nods confidently, her dark eyes assessing the items inside the duffel bag Maggie had been packing. "We can get out. We can lower them off the wall a good distance apart, maybe spin them. That way, the walkers are drawn to each one, and we open up a path," she proposes, her fingers tracing the edges of the supplies.
Maggie, her back turned to Esperanza, mumbles in agreement. However, the young girl notices a subtle distance in Maggie's demeanor, prompting her to approach and place a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"I don't need to hear it," Maggie states tersely.
"You should; they'll be back," Esperanza scolds gently, her tone carrying a note of urgency. Maggie turns around to face her, a resolute expression etched on her face. "Mads is out there, and if Glenn gets lost, she'll get him back. She won't be back inside these walls until she knows he's here as well."
"What if she doesn't know? What if she decided she doesn't care anymore 'cause she knows he's dead?!" Maggie retorts, her tone carrying the weight of fear and frustration.
Esperanza shakes her head, the darkness of her eyes reflecting a steadfast belief. "It's Glenn we're talking about. She'd never give up on him."
Locking eyes with Esperanza, Maggie emphasizes, "What if Mads doesn't make it back either?"
Esperanza's assertion carries a weight of understanding as she gazes at Maggie, a silent exchange of solidarity passing between the two women. "Maybe it's a good thing we're going out there to find them then," Esperanza states with confidence, her tone resonating with assurance.
"If he's alive-," Maggie begins, but Esperanza interjects with a firm "If?"
"He told Michonne he would've found some way to signal us if he got out. If he's alive or he's hurt or trapped, maybe taken. If he's alive, he needs my help. That's why I'm doing this. And if he's dead, I don't want to be waiting on him," Maggie explains, the gravity of her words hanging heavily in the air. Esperanza nods in understanding, her expression reflecting a shared sense of determination. "I know you'll feel the same about your sister," Maggie adds, acknowledging the parallel struggle that binds them together.
"Are you trying to convince me or yourself why you need to do this?" She notices the subtle edge in Maggie's voice, an undercurrent of conflicted emotions.
"I'm pregnant," Maggie confesses, her admission casting a different hue on their shared mission. Esperanza breaks into a small, understanding smile. "He didn't want me to go out there, and I said yes. And if I would've gone..." Maggie's voice falters, and Esperanza offers a comforting smile. "If I was with him, maybe I could've helped him. I don't know if he's alive. He would've shown me by now. That's what Michonne said. I just want to see his face. I can't. I don't get to know what will happen. I won't get to know why it happened, what I did right or wrong. Not now. I have to live with that." The vulnerability in Maggie's words lingers in the air as she locks eyes with Esperanza. "You do, too."
Their shared burden becomes palpable in that moment, a testament to the harsh realities they face. Before they can dwell too long on the weight of their choices, a resonant voice interrupts the silence.
"Let me help," Aaron declares, his presence a sudden but welcome interruption. "I know a way out without you having to go over the wall."
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Static crackles through the radios, a frustrating symphony of interference that echoes the tension riding alongside the group. Madeleine rolls her eyes, a display of annoyance etched across her face as the incessant static obscures any attempts at communication. The herd trails behind them, while their thoughts remain anchored to the intricate plan unfolding before them.
"Why are the radios not working?" Madeleine scoffs, her irritation evident, as if the static holds a hidden message they're unable to decipher.
"I don't know," Daryl replies, his voice carrying a hint of frustration. Both of them ride side by side on their bikes, navigating the road with focused determination. "Hey, listen, your old man will be fine. He knows what he's doing. That gunshot was probably a walker, and he lost his radio."
Madeleine raises an eyebrow, giving Daryl a knowing look that catches him off guard. "You don't have to do that to try to make me feel better," she points out, her gaze holding a sense of understanding. "We both know that didn't happen. But I know whatever it was, he'd find a way out. We just have to do this, and then we'll be home."
"You'll see him soon. All of them," Daryl assures, his eyes briefly meeting hers before refocusing on the road. "I promise you."
Madeleine sighs, the weight of the situation pressing down on her as she glances over her shoulder, catching sight of Sasha and Abraham still following in the car behind them.
"I just want to go home," she admits, a raw sentiment that lingers in the air, resonating with the collective longing for the familiarity of home.
Daryl's lips twitch into a subtle smile at her words. "Home, yeah? That's what it is."
"Home is wherever everyone I care about is. We all live there now; it's home to me," she asserts confidently and Daryl's stoic demeanor cracks with a genuine smile, a silent acknowledgment of shared sentiments. "Hey, I know you and my brother made a promise to each other, but I made some promises to myself," she continues, the road stretching out before them. Daryl keeps his eyes focused ahead, unable to meet her gaze. "I ain't ever going to let you die to save me."
"Yeah, that might be a problem," he remarks, a hint of a wry grin playing on his lips.
Madeleine arches an eyebrow in response. "Oh yeah?"
Daryl turns his head to lock eyes with her, a sincerity piercing through his gaze. "I ain't going to let you get yourself killed for me."
Sasha's voice on the radio cuts through the air, a welcome interruption to their exchange. "Alright."
Seizing the radio, Daryl responds, "That's 20?"
Sasha's voice crackles through the radio, "It will be. 642 is a mile ahead. We gotta put distance between us and them before the turnoff."
Abraham's unmistakable voice chimes in, his characteristic directness apparent. "So floor it."
"Alright, try to keep up," Daryl retorts through the radio as Madeleine revs the engine of her bike, casting a quick glance backward at the looming herd of growling walkers in pursuit.
"Daryl, have you looked at this car?" Sasha's laughter resonates through her side of the radio, injecting a momentary lightheartedness into the tense situation. "Believe me, we want to get back there, too."
The engines roar to life as Madeleine and Daryl speed down the desolate road, a trail of dust billowing behind them. The car trails close behind as they navigate the winding road, Madeleine's focus is razor-sharp, calculating every move to maintain a safe distance from the relentless undead.
In an unexpected turn, the serenity is shattered by the sharp crack of gunfire. Madeleine accelerates cautiously, her instincts heightened. Daryl, momentarily losing control, slides off his bike, a tense moment hanging in the air. The world around them blurs as Madeleine, with remarkable composure, retrieves her gun with one hand while keeping the other firmly on the bike. Her gaze sweeps over the surroundings, searching for the source of the attack.
A glance backward reveals the ominous presence of the pursuing car, the threat now tangible. Madeleine doesn't hesitate, squeezing the trigger three times with precision. Bullets find their mark, punctuating the air with staccato echoes. Not content with disabling the vehicle, Madeleine's sharp eyes catch a vulnerable point – the gas tank. A well-aimed shot sparks a fiery explosion, the ensuing chaos diverting the attention of nearby walkers. It's a calculated move, turning the threat into a frenzied distraction.
As the car erupts into flames, Madeleine steers through the twisted path, her focus split between the road and finding Daryl. The urgency of the situation hangs heavy in the air, accentuated by the distant moans of approaching walkers drawn to the fiery spectacle. In the chaos, she scans for any signs of Abraham or Sasha, her mind working swiftly to regroup with them.
Parking her bike beside Abraham and Sasha, Madeleine inquires about Daryl's whereabouts. Sasha, her gun at the ready, shares their concern, "He went after them. His bike is not anywhere, and we found shells from his gun," Sasha informs her, maintaining a vigilant stance. "Listen, we should wait here for him. He knows where we are, we don't know where he is. We'd get separated and lost, we wouldn't find each other."
Madeleine, surprisingly agreeable, responds with a simple "Okay."
"Mads—" Sasha begins, but she halts mid-sentence, absorbing the unexpected compliance. "Wait, did you just listen to me for once?"
Rolling her eyes, Madeleine snaps back at Sasha, "Don't get sarcastic with me; it doesn't suit you, Sasha." She motions toward a nearby building, her attention now focused on exploring their surroundings. "Let's see what's inside this building, but if we come back and one of those assholes stole my bike, I'm really going to be pissed off."
With a touch of humor, Abraham cracks a smile as they trail behind her. As they approach the building, Sasha, maintaining her vigilant watch, observes Madeleine effortlessly break open the door with her feet.
"There aren't enough people around to just wait around for somebody to ambush," Sasha remarks, prompting Madeleine to face her. "And they couldn't have just been watching us, not with what we were doing."
"Nah, they were looking to chew up someone in particular," Abraham asserts, his eyes scanning the surroundings, assessing the potential threat from the shadows.
"Whoever the hell they were," Madeleine mutters under her breath, her gaze fixed on a walker slowly dragging itself toward them, a macabre reminder of the perilous world they inhabit.
"Dollars to doughnuts, he's on his way back to Alexandria now," Abraham declares, his gaze unwavering. However, his casual assertion tightens Madeleine's jaw, her eyes narrowing as she glares at him.
"He wouldn't leave us behind. He wouldn't leave me behind," Madeleine retorts with conviction, her voice a firm assertion of her belief in Daryl's loyalty.
Abraham scoffs dismissively, "He already did."
"But he came back. He always comes back," Madeleine states resolutely, pointing a finger at Abraham's face, her eyes holding a knowing gaze. "The best way to find a tracker is to stay put. Let him find you. We're staying in here until he comes back. So get comfortable or you're more than welcome to leave, I don't care."
Madeleine strides into the building, the weight of the situation pressing upon her. She doesn't glance back to see if Abraham or Sasha are following; her focus is on navigating the labyrinthine halls, each step resonating with the unsettling echoes of a world forever altered. A lengthy corridor stretches ahead, and as light footsteps echo behind her, Madeleine can sense the tension rising.
Abruptly, she recoils as a walker hurls itself against the glass of a room. Her hand instinctively finds the hilt of her sword as she attempts to turn the knob, only to be met with the resistance of a locked door. Sasha, trailing close behind, is witness to the futile struggle. In the distance, a flashlight flickers, a sign that Abraham is securing the other side of the building.
"I guess seeing him try to escape will keep us entertained," Madeleine quips, a wry smile playing on her lips as she resigns herself to the macabre reality they find themselves in.
With a sigh, she continues into the room, claiming a seat by the window. Sasha joins her, the two women sharing a moment of uneasy silence. Sasha, breaking the quietude, can't help but voice the question lingering in both their minds.
"What the hell is this place?" Sasha's eyes carry a mix of curiosity and wariness, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.
Madeleine offers a nonchalant shrug, her gaze surveying the room. "Looks like an office or something," she speculates, her voice carrying a detached uncertainty about their current situation.
Finally, Abraham strides into the room, his attention drawn to the persistent walker banging on the glass. He points at the creature, an unspoken question in his eyes. "How come gorgeous over here is still standing?"
"He can't get out," Sasha explains, her gaze steady on the locked door. "It's locked. We're fine." The man seems reassured, stepping away from the room. "Stand watch or sleep? Your choice."
Abraham's shrug hangs in the air, the suggestion of a little shopping and perhaps an impromptu adventure on his mind. With a casual stroll, he grabs a bag from the ground and strides away from the room, leaving Madeleine to exchange a glance with Sasha. She gestures towards a corner where a small couch beckons.
"You sleep; I'm not tired. He'll keep me company while Abraham goes on a Dora the Explorer adventure," Madeleine suggests, a wry smile playing on her lips.
"Alright," Sasha acquiesces, walking over to her and she hands over a radio to Madeleine, a small but meaningful gesture. As Sasha settles onto the couch, Madeleine positions herself keeping watch out of the window, the radio held tightly in her hands.
Bringing the radio to her lips, Madeleine whispers softly, "Daryl, I'm at the door."
Sasha, intrigued by Madeleine's words, narrows her eyes in question. "At the door?" she queries, her curiosity evident.
Madeleine turns her head toward Sasha, her expression unreadable as she sidesteps the inquiry. "Can't sleep?" she deflects, shifting the focus away from her mysterious statement.
Sasha offers a casual shrug. "I asked the question first."
Madeleine gazes out of the window, her eyes scanning the desolate surroundings as she waits with an unspoken yearning for any sign or sight of Daryl's return. The air in the room is thick with the weight of anticipation and the unspoken connection between them.
"It doesn't matter. He knows what I mean, if he heard it," she replies, her voice holding a quiet confidence in Daryl's understanding.
"He'll be back. Like you said..." Sasha trails off, her eyes following Madeleine's intent stare out of the window. "He always comes back for you."
Attempting to steer the conversation away from Daryl, Madeleine redirects their focus. "What's going on between you?" she inquires, her voice holding a subtle plea as she hopes for reassurance that Daryl remains safe and unharmed.
Sasha mumbles a vague response, "Nothing," but her evasive answer doesn't escape Madeleine's notice.
Turning to face Sasha, Madeleine locks eyes with the woman, her gaze probing yet understanding. "I'm not blind, Sasha."
Sasha shrugs, her eyes shifting to the ground, a guarded barrier against the unspoken truths lingering in the room. "We're friends."
"'Cause of Rosita," Madeleine points out, her keen observation picking up on the subtle tensions and exchanged glances between Abraham and Sasha. She senses a deeper undercurrent beneath the surface. "Would you be more if it wasn't for her?"
Sasha maintains her gaze downward, shrugging again as if unsure of the complexities that lie beneath the surface of her own emotions. "I don't know."
Madeleine's gaze remains fixed out of the window, a silent vigil for any sign of life. Her thoughts race, entangled with worry for Daryl, amplified by the unsettling echoes of gunshots that pierced the air. Concern extends beyond him to encompass Rick and the people back home—especially her siblings and Glenn. Though she had foreseen the possibility of such a breakdown, the simultaneous unraveling of everything she held dear catches her off guard. She clutches the radio tightly in her hand, each passing moment intensifying the weight of uncertainty. Her eyes remain glued to the outside world, a silent plea for a flicker of hope.
"Why aren't we closer?" Madeleine's voice, barely audible, reflects the turmoil within. Sasha's gaze lingers on her, even if unseen, as she contemplates the question.
"You don't let many people in, neither do I," Sasha responds after a moment, a subtle shrug carried in her tone. Her words hang in the air, resonating with a shared sense of guardedness. "I feel like when I do, I lose them. I'm tired of people dying around me, it's what made me so angry."
"That's why I used to not let people in," Madeleine admits, her gaze finally turning toward Sasha. The emptiness in her expression belies the depth of emotion in her words. "I think Glenn was the first person I actually let in."
As they approach the fence, the disguise of walker blood clinging to them, Sasha breaks the silence with a subtle smile. "And Daryl."
Madeleine reminisces with a hint of nostalgia, her gaze distant as memories resurface. "I hated him," she confesses, acknowledging the complexity of emotions that once colored her perception. "Him and his brother were assholes in my eyes. I'd still go hunt with him, but I couldn't stand him."
Sasha chuckles at Madeleine's candid admission, a shared understanding evident in her eyes. "Maybe you liked him way before you realized."
A shake of the head dismisses Sasha's playful suggestion. "Well, here I am," Madeleine acknowledges with a bittersweet smile, the complexity of her feelings laid bare. "Just desperate to see even a glimpse of him."
"Is that why you wanted to be out there with him and Aaron?" she questions, a knowing look in her eyes. Madeleine nods in confirmation, the desire for connection extending beyond mere longing. "Do you think we should let more people in?"
The question prompts a thoughtful frown from Madeleine. "In what sense?"
"Either."
"We were on different sides of the fence at one point, and look at us now," Madeleine points out, a reflection on the transformative journey they've navigated.
Sasha nods in agreement, acknowledging the profound changes that have shaped their present. "Yeah, everything has changed."
A fleeting pause hangs in the air, the weight of unspoken memories and shared struggles enveloping Madeleine and Sasha in a palpable silence. In the stillness, Madeleine's gaze fixates on Sasha, witnessing the internal deliberations etched across her face. The burden of their shared experiences seems to weigh heavily on Sasha's shoulders, prompting Madeleine to break the silence with a revelation.
"I cared about your brother," Madeleine confesses, her words cutting through the quietude. Sasha's eyes snap to meet Madeleine's in slight surprise, an unspoken acknowledgment passing between them. "Ty saved my sister and he saved Noah. He shouldn't have died, you shouldn't have to mourn him because he should've been here. He deserved everything good life had to give him even if we live the way we do now."
Sasha, wrestling with her own grief, responds with a nonchalant shrug. "Maybe it was good that he died. He doesn't have to worry if he's going to make it one more day."
"That's a sad way to live," Madeleine remarks, her tone carrying a hint of empathy.
"It's the world we live in."
"No, it doesn't have to be anymore. That's how I used to live before the world fell," Madeleine asserts, her gaze shifting towards the window as she reflects on a past that seems distant yet vivid.
Sasha narrows her eyes, curiosity piqued by Madeleine's cryptic admission. "What were you before all of this?"
"I wasn't much. I didn't have a life, I didn't have friends, I wasn't talking to my family, I was moving city every few months. Got involved in some shit. I was lost and just worrying if I'd be alive to see tomorrow," Madeleine reveals in a monotone, the weight of her past etched in the lines of her expression. Sasha senses there's more to the story, a complexity that Madeleine guards with practiced restraint.
Undeterred, Sasha prods gently, seeking to unravel the layers of Madeleine's enigmatic past. "What happened?"
Madeleine turns her head, locking eyes with Sasha amidst the chaos that swirls around them. Her words cut through the air, laden with the weight of a confession that had lingered in the shadows of her past. "I fell in love with the wrong person, then the world ended, and I fell in love with the right person."
In the depths of the woods, Daryl forges a path alongside a few individuals he encountered, initially bound and robbed by them. Yet, through an unexpected turn, Daryl reclaimed his possessions and found himself inexplicably compelled to save them. As he walks, the gnarled branches crunching beneath his boots, a silent purpose guides him back to his wife and the group, a bond forged amidst the trials of this apocalyptic world.
"I can walk it from here. Till we meet up with my friends," Daryl grunts, his hands working deftly to clear branches from his hidden bike. He urges them to ride with his companions who possess a car, a pragmatic choice to ensure their safety and expedite the reunion.
The couple shares a small nod, though a subtle hesitation clouds the woman's expression, concealed beneath a facade that escapes Daryl's notice. "How many you said are there?"
Daryl, ever guarded, narrows his gaze and responds, "I didn't. There's three of 'em." The air becomes charged with a sense of uncertainty as the man probes further, seeking information on their whereabouts.
"Where are they?"
"We're gonna find out," Daryl retorts, his resolve unwavering. With the bike in tow, he heads towards the road, Dwight and his wife trailing behind. "If I know her right, she's either tracking me down or she's back where I last saw her. So, we start there."
The woman tilts her head, her eyes curious as she questions, "Who is she?"
Daryl, glancing back briefly at her, offers a terse response, "My wife."
A note of skepticism lingers in the air as the man voices his concerns, "How do you know they even got away? That they didn't get taken?" Oblivious to the subtle pity in the woman's expression, he presses for assurance.
"I don't," Daryl admits with a somber honesty. He keeps walking ahead, the uncertainty of the fate of his loved ones echoing in his words. Suddenly, the audible click of a hammer arrests his attention. Turning around, he finds Dwight pointing a gun at him, prompting a resigned exclamation from Daryl, "Oh, damn it."
"I'm sorry. Give her the crossbow," the man demands, the gun steady in Dwight's grip. The woman, standing aside with a sorrowful expression, understands the grim necessity of the situation for their survival.
Daryl, torn between defiance and pragmatism, challenges them, "You gonna go back? You gonna be safe?" His gaze shifts from Dwight to his wife, probing for signs of hesitation or regret.
"Shut up," the man interjects, a harsh command cutting through Daryl's questioning.
Undeterred, Daryl shakes his head, a bitter understanding etched on his face, "Ain't nowhere safe no more."
The man's demand for the crossbow persists with unyielding resolve. "Give her the crossbow," he repeats, his tone becoming increasingly stern, his finger poised on the trigger.
"You gonna kneel?" Daryl challenges, his defiance ringing in the air, a stark contrast to the imminent threat.
Dwight's cold demeanor clashes with the tension-laden air as he wordlessly fires a shot into the air, a stark warning to Daryl that he won't hesitate to kill if it ensures his survival and that of his wife. Daryl, annoyance etched on his face, shakes his head in response. He unslings the crossbow from his back and hands it over to the woman with an air of begrudging cooperation. She deftly places it on her shoulder, asserting a silent dominance in the standoff. Seizing the moment, she disarms Dwight by grabbing the gun from his hands, the barrel now ominously pointed at Daryl. Meanwhile, Dwight retrieves his bike, revving the engine in preparation. The woman gracefully climbs onto the back of the bike, enveloping Dwight with her arms around his waist, the image of their alliance clear.
"Patch yourself up," the woman speaks sincerely, her expression tinged with a hint of regret. "We're sorry."
Daryl nods, accepting the terse apology, his eyes narrowing in acknowledgment. "You're gonna be," he retorts with a quiet certainty as Dwight, now astride the bike, revs the engine with an audible growl.
With the roar of the motorcycle, they accelerate away, leaving Daryl alone in the desolate landscape. He watches their receding figures disappear into the distance, a mixture of frustration and resignation coloring his expression. As the echoes of the engine fade, a heavy silence settles, leaving Daryl to confront the solitary aftermath of their encounter.
The wind whistles through the desolation, carrying with it a sense of solitude as Daryl stands alone. His eyes fixate on the vanishing speck on the horizon, a metaphorical dust cloud stirred by the departure of his unexpected, albeit temporary, companions. The echoes of the encounter linger, a testament to the fragile alliances formed in the face of an unrelenting world.
Sighing with a small chuckle, Abraham's gaze flits between the trapped walker and the two unamused women. "You have no idea how much I want to release that thing from this plane of existence," he admits, chuckling again. "Is this our new home?" He gestures toward the ensnared walker. "Should we give him a name?"
Sasha points at the man with an annoyed expression, prompting Madeleine to roll her eyes at the familiar dynamic playing out before them. "You got yourself into this," Sasha asserts, her irritation evident. "I was driving that car solo until you chose to come with."
Abraham counters with a hint of a smirk, "Oh, I didn't have a choice there."
Sasha snarks back, her tone cutting, "Tell me why."
Pointing a finger back at her, Abraham retorts, "You going stag was not an option."
"Tell me why," Sasha repeats through gritted teeth, the tension between them crackling in the air. The room becomes a battleground of verbal sparring, the weight of unspoken tensions simmering beneath the surface.
Running her hands down her legs, Madeleine hops off the window's ledge, her tone playful yet laden with a sense of purpose. "I think it's time I go for a little Dora the Explorer adventure of my own." With that declaration, she strides out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. "I'll come back in a bit," she calls out, her voice carrying hints of determination and perhaps a touch of vulnerability.
As Madeleine navigates the perimeter of the building, a room catches her attention. Intrigued, she steps inside, her eyes drawn to a picture capturing the essence of a wedding day. The scene unfolds before her like a forgotten memory, and she delicately raises her hand to touch the necklace adorning her neck. A moment of quiet reflection ensues as the weight of the past mingles with the uncertainty of the present, leaving her standing in the room like a solitary figure caught between echoes of what once was and the harsh reality of the now.
The radio in her hand becomes a conduit for unspoken sentiments as Madeleine raises it to her lips, her voice carrying a plea wrapped in vulnerability. "Daryl... Please." The words linger in the air, laden with emotions that transcend the confines of the radio waves.
With each step and each uttered word, Madeleine treads a path of self-discovery and emotional reckoning. The building echoes with the resonance of untold stories and buried emotions, and as she ventures deeper into the corridors of her own introspection, the weight of unspoken words grows heavier. The radio, a fragile link to the outside world, becomes a vessel for the echoes of her heart, transmitting messages that hang in the air like unspoken prayers in the hope that someone, somewhere, is listening.
Esperanza leans wearily against the cold walls of the infirmary, her eyes fixed on Freya's still form in the hospital bed. The weight of a sleepless night presses upon her shoulders, and tear-stained eyes reveal the depth of her worry. The room carries a heavy silence, disrupted only by the distant sounds of a world outside grappling with its own turmoil.
With measured steps, Esperanza approaches the bed where Freya lies, the soft echo of her footsteps resonating in the room. The dim light casts shadows, accentuating the lines of exhaustion etched on Esperanza's face. Freya stirs, her eyes slowly fluttering open to meet Esperanza's gaze. A feeble smile graces Freya's lips, but it falters as she discerns the turmoil reflected in Esperanza's eyes.
"What happened?" Freya's voice, hoarse from the hours of strained silence, breaks the quietude that envelops them.
Esperanza's response is a sorrowful shake of her head, tears streaming down her cheeks once again. She turns away, unable to bear the weight of the unspoken anguish that hangs in the air.
"Esperanza, what's wrong?" Freya's concern deepens, her weakened state evident as she reaches out to touch Esperanza's arm.
Seating herself on the edge of the bed, Esperanza feels Freya's hand gently rest atop hers. "I thought you died, and my sister... she's still out there. The quarry broke; they had to carry out the plan on the spot. Half of them aren't back. Glenn, Mads, Sasha, Daryl...."
Freya's eyes widen, a surge of urgency overcoming her weakened state as she struggles to sit up. Marie, another figure silently. Esperanza, guided by a mix of relief and concern, extends her hand to help Freya rise.
Freya clears her throat, her gaze focused on Esperanza's tear-streaked face as she reaches out to tenderly touch her cheek. "They'll be back. Heath's still out there; they'll be fine. All of them. They'll make it back."
Esperanza's fingers gently trace over Freya's hand, the touch a comforting reassurance. "You scared me," she confesses, her gaze penetrating Freya's eyes. "I remember when my mom was in bed, in her last few days. She was trying to write a will, so I'd find my way to my sister. For Rick to look after me when she passed. It happened so fast, the pen just fell on the floor and her eyes shut. I never felt so alone after that moment."
"You still found them," Freya points out with a hopeful smile, offering a glimmer of light in the shadow of Esperanza's past.
Esperanza returns the smile, albeit tinged with the echoes of her painful memories. "I did, and I thank whoever is up there for it." A tear trickles down Esperanza's cheek, and Freya delicately wipes it away. "I don't want anyone else to die on me. I can't see another person die. I can't bear this feeling."
"You're stronger than you think," Freya reassures, her eyes locked with Esperanza's. "Do what you have to do."
Determination flickers in Esperanza's gaze as she rises from her seat. A silent exchange of smiles lingers between them before she heads out of the room, leaving Freya to contemplate the weight of their shared experiences.
Meanwhile, Daryl had made his way back to his wife, Abraham, and Sasha, however his wife noticed the absence of his bike and crossbow. The unspoken questions hover between them, lingering until they return home as she knows something bad might've happened out there. When he met up with them, Daryl has stowed her bike in the back of the truck he found, and the group swiftly piled in, driving back toward Alexandria.
Madeleine, gripping the radio tightly, brings it to her lips. "Rick, you copy?" she calls out, the only response a static-laden silence. Frustration colors her voice as she curses softly, "Anybody?" Suddenly, garbled voices emerge over the radio, prompting a shared look between her and Daryl. "What did you say?"
"Help."
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Thank you for reading ❤️