They head through the gates where a group closes it tight behind them, the diseased pushing to get through the bars.
"Save your bullets!" A man instructs, throwing a Molotov over the fence that erupts into flames.
They keep throwing more until they're satisfied they were safe. The man who orders the group around ushers them inside.
(Y/N) looks up wearily at the house, jumping at Joel's touch. The lovers share a knowing look and he slides his hand into hers, giving it a soft squeeze and walking up with their horse.
In the garage, she watches the door slide close and Abby talks in a hushed tone to people. Another woman joins the trio. "How you guys doin'?"
"We're good thanks." Tommy answers and Joel keeps (Y/N) close to him. "Yeah."
"You wanna get those saddles off?"
"No, no, that's alright. We'll just ride out the storm and get out of your hair." (Y/N) reassures.
"Y'all got any brushes or a towel or anything?"
"Tommy." She chides, following the woman into the room Abby was lead away from by the leader.
"How long you all been here?" Tommy continues.
"Since yesterday."
"Yesterday." Joel repeats.
"Yup."
"What are y'all doing out this way?"
"Oh, just passing through. You three live nearby?"
"We do. A few houses down the hill." Tommy answers. "Y'all should come back with us. Restock before you head out."
"Appreciate it. I'm Mel, by the way." She shakes hands with the youngest as he introduces himself.
"This is my brother and his wife."
"Joel."
"(Y/N)."
The group surrounding them suddenly falls silent, tensing up at the mention of their names, their hands gripping the weapons they hold.
"Y'all act like you've heard of us or something." (Y/N) jokes, chuckling slightly and the feeling of uneasy growing stronger.
"That's cause they have." Abby says, wasting no time in shooting Joel in the leg and he falls. Both Tommy and (Y/N) scream, reaching for him.
Two men grab Tommy, slamming him on a table and the woman from before repeatedly hits him in the face. She then aims her gun at him, his face bloodied as he slides to the floor.
(Y/N) had been grabbed by two other men and she screams in their arms, the tears streaming down her face.
"Let him go!"
"Nora, all clear?" One of the men holding her yells over.
Nora, who was pointing her pistol at Tommy, nods. "He's out."
"Put him against the wall." Abi orders and two others grab Joel.
"Get off me. Get off me." He groans as they drag him towards it.
"Fucking get off him!" (Y/N) screams, watching helplessly as the men push him against the wall, holding out his arms.
She stamps on the foot of her captor, repeatedly until he pushes her forward and the other one punches her. She goes sprawling to the floor, coughing up fits of blood. Joel yells, repeatedly screaming for her as they struggle to pin him back.
(Y/N) leans on her arms, sobbing and she starts to crawl towards him, but a man grabs her hair and pulls her back. He goes to strike her again, but something Joel says stops him:
"Don't fucking touch her! She's pregnant, please, don't hurt her." The end of his sentence ends in a breathy plea.
The guy holding her immediately let's her go and her eyes flutter up to Joel, who was already staring at her.
"Fuck Abby, I know you wanted this but surely you wouldn't go that far."
Abby brushes him off. "I'll deal with her later." She grits her teeth, crouching in front of Joel. "Joel Miller..." she laughs slightly in disgust.
"Who are you?" He breathes out, anger painted across his face and his eyes flicker to his wife, her head hanging low and he can see the blood dripping.
"Guess."
Joel breathes heavily, leaning his head back and (Y/N) looks up. "Please don't hurt him." She whispers.
"Why don't you just say whatever speech you've got rehearsed and get this over with." Joel says over her.
Abby stands, passing her shotgun over. "Tourniquet his leg." She mutters. As they are hesitant, she looks around at her group. "Do it!"
The leader from before kneels down in front of Joel to do it and Abby makes her way to (Y/N), who had sat herself up. Abby blocks her view of Joel, but she can still hear his groans of pain.
"Clear out." The woman calls and her group moves back behind her.
She picks up a golf club, staring at it and looking at Joel. "You stupid old man... you don't get to rush this." She spits.
Holding up the club, she swings.