Vatos
The boat bobbed on the calm water as Amy cast her line out again. She glanced at Andrea, catching the thoughtful expression on her sister’s face. “What?” Amy asked.
Andrea shook her head, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Nothing.”
Amy frowned slightly, nudging her sister’s arm. “It’s not nothing. It’s always something.”
Andrea chuckled, her gaze drifting back to the water. “Didn’t Dad teach you to tie nail knots?”
Amy tilted her head, confused. “Why would he do that? He only ever used a fisherman’s knot. One knot.”
Andrea raised an eyebrow “No, he didn’t. No, he tied at least three.”
Amy narrowed her eyes. “Clinch knots?”
Andrea laughed lightly. “No way. Fine, I’m making it up. Did Dad teach you mostly dry lures?”
Amy nodded confidently. “Yeah. You?”
Andrea’s grin widened. “Wet.”
Amy’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding. But he was always so adamant. I mean, you know Dad on the fishing thing.”
Andrea leaned back “Gee, you think? I only spent my entire childhood with my ass in a boat. But in my day, it was all about getting the hook seated. We were fishing for the dinner table.”
Amy shook her head in disbelief. “Not us. We always threw them back. Always.”
Andrea’s expression softened, her tone thoughtful. “I guess he changed things up.”
Amy’s brow furrowed, her voice tinged with skepticism. “But that’d be like changing his religion or something.”
“People change. It’s not his fault we were born 12 years apart.”
Amy let out a small laugh “No. No, because the minute you went off to college it was my a*s in that boat, and he taught me dry lures from day one. This was not behavior developed over time.”
Andrea’s gaze softened. “You think he did it for us?”
Amy nodded “Because he knew we were so different. He knew that you needed to catch the fish, and I needed to throw them back.”
“All right, remember his rule: No crying in the boat. It scares the fish.”
“Mom and Dad… I mean, maybe Florida wasn’t hit so bad. Maybe it’s better there. Do you think?”
Andrea glanced at Amy’s fishing line, her eyes catching faint movement. “I think you have a bite,” she said “Even with the wrong knots.”
“Oh God. So much for the no crying rule.”
Andrea wiped her eyes “I think that was more for Dad than the fish.”
Camp
Dale stood atop the RV scanning the horizon for any signs of walkers. The quiet of the camp was broken only by the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional murmur of conversation. His gaze lingered for a moment, and then something caught his attention—a figure moving in the bushes.
He squinted, focusing on Jim, who was bent over, digging.
Atlanta
The group stood frozen, their gazes fixed on the bloodied scene before them.
Daryl’s breathing grew heavy, his fists clenched. He turned abruptly, raising his crossbow and pointing it directly at T-Dog.
T-Dog took a step back, raising his hands in alarm. Before Daryl could release the arrow, Rick stepped forward, his Python drawn at Daryl. “I won’t hesitate,” Rick said. “I don’t care if every walker in the city hears it.”
Slowly, Daryl lowered the crossbow, his shoulders relaxing just slightly.
“You got a do-rag or something?” Daryl muttered, his voice gruff but calmer now.
T-Dog reached into his pocket and handed him one. Daryl crouched down, grimacing as he picked up Merle’s severed hand. He wrapped it in the do-rag.
“I guess the saw blade was too dull for the handcuffs,” Daryl said, his tone bitter. “Ain’t that a bitch.” He tucked the wrapped hand into Glenn’s backpack, his jaw tightening as he stood.
“He must’ve used a tourniquet,” Daryl continued, his voice quieter now. “Maybe his belt. Be much more blood if he didn’t.”
As his eyes scanned the rooftop, he noticed a faint blood trail leading away from the spot. Without a word, he gestured to the others, and the group began to follow it. T-Dog grabbed the tools left on the roof, slinging them over his shoulder as they descended the stairs.
“Merle?” Daryl called out, his voice echoing through the empty building. “You in here?”
Camp
Dale stepped down from the RV, his gaze fixed on Jim, who was still hunched over in the bushes, digging. Dale approached cautiously.
“Jim?” Dale called. “You okay? You keep this up, you’re gonna keel over out here. Drink some water at least.”
Jim didn’t respond, his focus entirely on the holes he was digging. Dale frowned, watching him for a moment longer before stepping back, unsure of what to make of the scene.
Atlanta
The group moved carefully through the building, their footsteps echoing in the halls. As they entered an office, a Walker stumbled into view, lurching toward them. Daryl raised his crossbow without hesitation, firing a shot that pierced the Walker’s skull.
Daryl stepped forward, pulling the bolt out and wiping it clean. “Had enough in him to take out these two sumbitches,” he muttered, gesturing to the two dead walkers nearby. “One-handed. Toughest asshole I ever met, my brother. Feed him a hammer, he’d crap out nails.”
“Any man can pass out from blood loss,” he said, glancing at Daryl. “No matter how tough he is.”
Camp
Amy and Andrea returned to the camp, their boat loaded with fish. The sight drew immediate attention, and Morales was the first to approach, his face lighting up with gratitude. “Oh, baby. Will you look at that?” he exclaimed, gesturing to the haul. “Hey, check it out. Ladies… Because of you, my children will eat tonight. Thank you.”
Andrea smiled faintly, nodding toward Dale. “Thank Dale. It’s his canoe and gear.”
Carl ran up to Lori, his excitement bubbling over. “Mom, look. Look at all the fish!” he said, his voice filled with awe.
Lori smiled warmly, her gaze shifting to Amy and Andrea. “Thank you,” she said, her tone sincere.
Carl stared at the fish, his eyes wide. “Whoa.”
“Yeah, whoa,” Lori echoed, her smile growing. “Where did you two learn to do that?”
Amy grinned, glancing at Andrea. “Our dad.”
Carl’s curiosity was piqued. “Can you teach me how to do that?”
Amy nodded, her tone playful. “Sure. I’ll teach you all about nail knots and stuff. If that’s okay.”
Lori chuckled softly. “You won’t catch me arguing.”
Andrea turned to Dale, her tone light but pointed. “Hey, Dale. When’s the last time you oiled those line reels? They are a disgrace.”
“I, uh, I don’t want to alarm anyone,” Dale said slowly, “but we may have a bit of a problem.”
Shane approached “What’s going on?” he asked.
Dale gestured toward Jim, who was still digging.
Atlanta
The group pressed on cautiously, Daryl’s voice echoed down the hallways “Merle!” he shouted.
Rick stepped closer to Daryl, hissing. “We’re not alone here. Remember?”
Daryl spun around, his expression full of frustration. “Screw that,” he snapped. “He could be bleeding out. You said so yourself.”
As they entered a kitchen, the faint glow of a lit stove caught their attention. On top of the stove lay Merle’s belt, singed.
“What’s that burned stuff?” Daryl asked, narrowing his eyes at the stove.
Rick stepped closer, inspecting the scene. “Skin,” he said grimly. “He cauterized the stump.”
Daryl’s jaw tightened, and he gave a short laugh. “Told you he was tough,” he said. “Nobody can kill Merle but Merle.”
Rick turned to him “Don’t take that on faith. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Yeah? Didn’t stop him from busting out of this death trap.”
Glenn furrowed his brow,
“He left the building? Why the hell would he do that?”
They turned to where a window lay smashed open. The realization hit them all at once: Merle had escaped.
Daryl gestured toward the broken window “Why wouldn’t he?” he asked, his voice low. “He’s out there alone as far as he knows, doing what he’s gotta do. Surviving.”
T-Dog shook his head“You call that surviving? Just wandering out in the streets, maybe passing out? What are his odds out there?”
Daryl turned on him, his frustration boiling over. “No worse than being handcuffed and left to rot by you sorry pricks,” he spat. “You couldn’t kill him. Ain’t so worried about some dumb dead bastard.”
Rick stepped in “What about 1,000 dead dumb bastards? Different story?”
Daryl scoffed “Why don’t you take a tally? Do what you want. I’m gonna go get him.”
Rick reached out, grabbing Daryl’s arm to stop him. “Daryl, wait.”
Daryl yanked his arm free, his anger bubbling to the surface. “Get your hands off me! You can’t stop me.”
Rick didn’t back down “I don’t blame you. He’s family, I get that. I went through hell to find mine. I know exactly how you feel. He can’t get far with that injury. We could help you check a few blocks around, but only if we keep a level head.”
Daryl paused as he considered Rick’s words. Finally, he gave a nod. “I could do that.”
T-Dog interjected “Only if we get those guns first. I’m not strolling the streets of Atlanta with just my good intentions, okay?”
Camp
Shane stepped towards Jim “Hey, Jim. Jim, why don’t you hold up, all right? Just give me a second here, please.”
Jim paused briefly, his grip tightening on the shovel. “What do you want?” he asked, his tone defensive.
Shane gestured toward the group behind him. “We’re all just a little concerned, that’s all.”
Morales chimed in, his voice carrying a note of worry. “Dale says you’ve been out here for hours.”
Jim shrugged “So?”
Shane sighed, trying to keep his tone light. “So why are you digging? Are you heading to China, Jim?”
Jim’s expression hardened. “What does it matter? I’m not hurting anyone.”
“Yeah,” Shane replied “except maybe yourself. It’s a hundred degrees today. You can’t keep this up.”
Jim scoffed, his tone defiant. “Sure I can. Watch me.”
Lori stepped forward, her voice cutting through the tension. “Jim, they’re not gonna say it, so I will. You’re scaring people. You’re scaring my son, Kenny and Katjaa’s son, Clementine and Carol’s daughter.”
Jim stopped digging for a moment, his gaze flicking toward Lori. “They got nothing to be scared of,” he said, his voice rising. “I mean, what the hell, people? I’m out here by myself. Why don’t you all just go and leave me the hell alone?”
Shane took a step closer, his tone softening. “We think that you need to take a break, okay? Why don’t you go and get yourself in the shade? Some food maybe. I’ll tell you what… maybe in a little bit I’ll come out here and help you myself. Jim, just tell me what it’s about. Why don’t you just go ahead and give me that shovel?”
Jim’s grip tightened on the shovel, his voice sharp. “Or what?”
Shane shook his head “There is no or what. I’m asking you. I’m coming to you and I’m asking you, please. I don’t want to have to take it from you.”
Jim’s eyes narrowed, his voice rising. “And if I don’t, then what?”
Shane reached out, “Just give me the—Jim!”
Jim shoved Shane away, raising the shovel threateningly. Before he could swing, Shane tackled him to the ground, pinning him down as the group gasped in alarm, Lori shoving Carl behind Harry “Okay, shh shh,” Shane said, his voice soothing as he held Jim down.
Jim struggled, his voice breaking. “You got no right!”
“Stop. Shh,” Shane replied “You got no right!” Jim shouted again, his voice cracking with emotion.
“Jim, just stop it,” Shane said, his voice softening. “Hey hey hey hey.”
“Don’t!” Jim cried, his voice raw.
“Jim,” Shane said gently, “nobody’s gonna hurt you. You hear me? Shh. Jim, nobody is gonna hurt you, okay?”
Jim’s voice dropped to a whisper, filled with anguish. “That’s a lie. That’s the biggest lie there is. I told that to my wife and my two boys. I said it 100 times. It didn’t matter. They came out of nowhere. There were dozens of ’em. Just pulled ’em right out of my hands. You know, the only reason I got away was ’cause the dead were too busy eating my family.”
Atlanta
Rick stepped forward. “You’re not doing this alone.”
Daryl scoffed “Even I think it’s a bad idea, and I don’t even like you much.”
Glenn interjected “It’s a good idea, okay, if you just hear me out. If we go out there in a group, we’re slow, drawing attention. If I’m alone, I can move fast.”
He crouched down, drawing a rough map of the street on the dusty ground. He marked the tank and the bag of guns, “Look,” Glenn said, pointing to the map. “That’s the tank, five blocks from where we are now. That’s the bag of guns. Here’s the alley I dragged you into when we first met. That’s where Daryl and I will go.”
Daryl frowned “Why me?”
Glenn glanced at him. “Your crossbow is quieter than his gun. While Daryl waits here in the alley, I run up the street, grab the bag.”
Rick leaned in, studying the map. “You got us elsewhere?”
Glenn pointed to another spot on the map. “You and T-Dog, right. You’ll be in this alley here.”
Rick raised an eyebrow. “Two blocks away? Why?”
“I may not be able to come back the same way. Walkers might cut me off. If that happens, I won’t go back to Daryl. I’ll go forward instead, all the way around to that alley where you guys are. Whichever direction I go, I got you in both places to cover me. Afterwards, we’ll all meet back here.”
Daryl smirked faintly, his tone dry. “Hey, kid, what’d you do before all this?”
Glenn shrugged. “Delivered pizzas. Why?”
Outside
Glenn and Daryl crawled down the ladder. Rick and T-Dog headed down the other alley, their weapons ready. Daryl loaded his crossbow, glancing at Glenn. “You got some balls for a Chinaman.”
Glenn shot him a look. “I’m Korean.”
Daryl shrugged. “Whatever.”
Glenn sprinted down the street. Several Walkers noticed him, their heads turning, but they didn’t chase him yet. Meanwhile, Daryl crouched behind a trashcan, his crossbow at the ready. A young man of Mexican descent, Miguel, walked down the alley. Daryl spotted him and pointed his crossbow at him.
“Whoa, don’t shoot me!” Miguel exclaimed, raising his hands. “What do you want?”
Daryl’s voice was sharp. “I’m looking for my brother. He’s hurt real bad. You seen him?”
Miguel’s eyes widened. “Ayúdame!”
“Shut up! You’re gonna bring the geeks down on us. Answer me.”
Meanwhile, Glenn noticed the Walkers starting to converge on him as he grabbed the bag of guns and Rick’s sheriff’s hat. He turned and ran back down the street he came from, his heart pounding.
Daryl’s voice echoed in the alley. “Answer me.”
Miguel shouted louder, his voice panicked. “Ayúdame! Ayúdame! Ayúdame!”
Rick and T-Dog heard the yelling and started to run toward Glenn and Daryl’s alley.
Miguel’s cries grew desperate. “Help! Help!”
Daryl growled, his frustration boiling over. “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.”
Two other Mexicans, one of them named Felipe, appeared in the alley and began to beat up Daryl. Glenn arrived with the bag of guns and saw the commotion unfolding.
Felipe pointed at Glenn “That’s it. That’s the bag, Vato. Take it! Take it!”
Felipe ran toward Glenn, trying to grab the bag of guns. The group grabbed Glenn, holding him hostage. Daryl fired his crossbow, the arrow hitting Felipe in the ass. Felipe cried out in pain.
“Get off me! Get off me! Daryl! Daryl!” Glenn shouted, struggling against his captors.
A car pulled up, and the group began to back away. One of the Walkers was crushed by the vehicle as the Mexicans fled, taking Glenn as a hostage but leaving Miguel behind.
Daryl shouted after them, his voice filled with rage. “Come back here, you sumbitches!”
He grabbed the gate and slammed it shut, blocking the Walkers from getting through. Rick and T-Dog arrived.
“Whoa whoa whoa. Stop it.”
Daryl’s anger boiled over. “I’m gonna kick your nuts up in your throat!” he snarled, glaring at Miguel.
Miguel struggled, his voice pleading. “Let me go.”
T-Dog stepped in “Chill out.”
Daryl pointed at Miguel, his frustration spilling out. “They took Glenn. That little bastard and his little bastard homie friends. I’m gonna stomp your ass!”
“Guys! Guys! We’re cut off!”
Rick turned “Get to the lab. Go.”
“Come on. Damn, let’s go,” Daryl growled, gesturing for the group to keep moving.
Rick scooped up the bag of guns and his hat.
Camp
The afternoon sun beat down on the camp, casting long shadows over Jim, who sat tied to a tree, a way to keep him from hurting anyone or himself. Shane and Dale approached him cautiously, a bottle of water in Shane’s hand.
Shane crouched down “Jim, take some water?”
Jim hesitated before nodding. “All right.”
Shane smiled faintly. “Yeah? All right. Here you go, bud.” He handed the bottle over, watching as Jim took a drink.
After a moment, Jim handed the bottle back and asked, “Pour some on my head?”
Shane obliged, tipping the bottle to let the cool water run over Jim’s head. “Yeah,” Shane said, “cooling you down, huh?”
Jim sighed, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Yeah. How long you gonna keep me like this?”
Shane glanced at Dale before responding “Well, yeah. Until I don’t think that you’re a danger to yourself or others.”
Jim’s gaze dropped to the ground, his voice quiet. “Sorry if I scared the children.”
Lori spoke up “You had sunstroke. Nobody’s blaming you.”
Jim looked up, his gaze meeting Carl’s “You’re not scared now, are you?” he asked gently.
Carl shook his head “No, sir.”
A faint smile tugged at Jim’s lips, relief washing over him. “Your mama’s right,” he said, nodding slightly. “Sun just cooked my head is all.”
“Jim, do you know why you were digging? Can you say?”
Jim’s brow furrowed as he tried to recall. “I had a reason,” he said slowly, his voice tinged with confusion. “Don’t remember. Something I dreamt last night. Your dad was in it,” he said, looking at Carl, “You were too. You were worried about him. Can’t remember the rest. You worried about your dad?”
Carl hesitated, glancing at Lori. “They’re not back yet,” he admitted quietly.
Lori interrupted “We don’t need to talk about that.”
Jim’s tone softened. “Your dad’s a police officer, son. He helps people. Probably just came across some folks needing help, that’s all. That man, he is tough as nails. I don’t know him well but… I could see it in him. Am I right?”
Shane offered a small smile. “Oh yeah.”
Jim nodded “There ain’t nothing gonna stop him from getting back here to you and your mom, I promise you that.”
Shane clapped his hands, his voice breaking the tension. “All right. Who wants to help me clean some fish, huh?”
Carl’s face lit up. “Sweet. Come on, guys.”
Sophia, Clementine, Duck, and Carl all raced after Shane, Carol followed closely behind. Lori lingered for a moment, her gaze shifting back to Carl. “Stay with Carol, all right?” she called watching as the group disappeared toward the fishing area. Then, she walked over to Jim.
Jim’s voice dropped, his words heavy with meaning. “You keep your boys close. You don’t ever let them out of your sight.”
Lori nodded “I won’t,” she said quietly.
Atlanta
“Those men you were with,” Rick said, “We need to know where they went.”
“I ain’t telling you nothing.”
T-Dog shook his head,“Jesus, man. What the hell happened back there?”
Daryl turned sharply, his finger jabbing in Miguel’s direction. “I told you, this little turd and his douchebag friends came out of nowhere and jumped me.”
Miguel snorted, crossing his arms. “You’re the one who jumped me, puto. Screaming about your brother like it’s my fault or something.”
Daryl’s frustration boiled over. “They took Glenn. Could’ve taken Merle too,” he snapped.
Miguel’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Merle? What kind of hick name is that?” He laughed. “I wouldn’t even name my dog Merle.”
Daryl lunged toward him, but Rick shoved himself between them, holding Daryl back. “Damn it, Daryl, back off.”
Ignoring Rick’s restraint, Daryl reached into his pack and yanked out Merle’s severed hand, shoving it toward Miguel’s face. Miguel flinched “Want to see what happened to the last guy who pissed me off?” Daryl growled. “Startin’ with the feet this time.”
Miguel recoiled, but before Daryl could take another step, Rick tightened his grip on Daryl’s arm and yanked him away. “Enough!” he barked, his tone “The men you were with took our friend. All we want to do is talk to them, see if we can work something out.”
Hideout
Rick walked slightly ahead, glancing at T-Dog as they neared the entrance. "You sure you’re up for this?" he asked
T-Dog gave a short nod. "Yeah."
Rick studied him for a moment, then nodded in return. "Okay."
Daryl, however, wasn’t interested in calm discussions. He shot a glare at Miguel, his crossbow slung loosely over his shoulder. "One wrong move," Daryl growled, "and you get an arrow in the ass. Just so you know."
"G’s gonna take that arrow out of my ass and shove it up yours. Just so you know."
Rick raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Miguel. "G?"
"Guillermo," Miguel said "He’s the man here."
"Okay then," Rick replied "Let’s go see Guillermo."
The group walked toward the building’s entrance. As they got closer, the doors creaked open, and a man emerged.
"You okay, little man?" Guillermo asked.
Miguel’s bravado faltered slightly, replaced with a tinge of fear. "They’re gonna cut off my feet, carnal," he said quickly, his words tumbling over each other.
Guillermo’s sharp gaze flicked to the group. "Cops do that?" he asked, his voice laced with skepticism.
Miguel shook his head, his words spilling out in a panic. "Not him. This redneck puto here. He cut off some dude’s hand, man. He showed it to me!"
Daryl sneered, stepping forward. "Shut up," he barked, his patience wearing thin.
Before Daryl could get any closer, another man stepped out of the shadows. Felipe, limping slightly, pointed a gun directly at Daryl. "Hey," Felipe growled, his voice rising, "that’s that vato right there, homes. He shot me in the ass with an arrow. What’s up, homes, huh?"
"Chill, ese, chill," Guillermo said smoothly, raising a hand to calm Felipe. He turned back to Rick, his eyes narrowing. "So, this true? He wants Miguelito’s feet? That’s pretty sick, man."
Rick kept his voice steady "We were hoping more for a calm discussion."Guillermo let out a short, dry laugh. "A calm discussion?" He gestured toward Miguel and Felipe with a sweep of his hand. "That hillbilly jumps Felipe’s little cousin, beats on him, threatens to cut off his feet. Felipe gets an arrow in the ass, and you want a calm discussion? You fascinate me, man."
Rick didn’t flinch. "Heat of the moment," he admitted. "Mistakes were made on both sides."
Guillermo cocked his head, studying Rick with a hint of amusement. "Who’s that dude to you anyway? You don’t look related."
Rick hesitated before answering. "He’s one of our group, more or less. I’m sure you have a few like him."
Daryl cut in "You got my brother in there?"
Guillermo’s expression didn’t change. "Sorry, we’re fresh out of white boys. But I’ve got Asian. You interested?"
Rick’s jaw tightened, "I have one of yours. You have one of mine. Sounds like an even trade."
Guillermo’s laugh broke the tension briefly. "Don’t sound even to me."
Miguel glanced nervously at Guillermo. "G, come on, man," he said, his voice low.
Guillermo didn’t take his eyes off Rick. "My people got attacked. Where’s the compensation for their pain and suffering? More to the point, where’s my bag of guns?"
Rick’s eyebrows lifted slightly. "Guns?"
"The bag Miguel saw in the street," Guillermo said, his tone flat. "The bag Felipe and Jorge were going back to get. That bag of guns."
Rick shook his head. "You’re mistaken."
Guillermo crossed his arms, his smirk widening. "I don’t think so."
Rick’s voice hardened just a fraction. "About it being yours. It’s my bag of guns."
"The bag was in the street," he said slowly. "Anybody could come around and say it was theirs. I’m supposed to take your word? What’s to stop us from just taking what we want?"
Rick’s gaze didn’t waver as he spoke “You could do that. Or not.” He tilted his head slightly, gesturing toward the wall where T-Dog stood, the sniper rifle trained on Guillermo.
T-Dog muttered to himself “Come on, man. Make the trade. Please.”
Guillermo’s eyes flicked toward the rifle, then back to Rick. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he called out, “Oye.”
The sound of footsteps echoed above them, and two men appeared on the roof, dragging Glenn into view. His hands were bound, and his head was covered with a bag.
Guillermo’s voice was calm, almost casual, as he addressed Rick. “I see two options. You come back with Miguel and my bag of guns, everybody walks. Or you come back locked and loaded, and we’ll see which side spills more blood.”
Building
Rick knelt by the bag of guns and began dividing the weapons.
Daryl leaned against the wall, his arms crossed “Them guns are worth more than gold,” he said, his voice low and sharp. “Gold won’t protect your family or put food on the table. You’re gonna give that up for that kid?”
T-Dog, standing nearby, shook his head. “If I knew we’d get Glenn back, I might agree,” he said, his tone skeptical. “But you think that Vato across the way is just gonna hand him over?”
Miguel, sitting on the floor with his hands tied, glared at T-Dog. “You calling G a liar?”
Daryl’s eyes narrowed as he stepped toward Miguel. “Are you a part of this?” he asked, his voice dripping with anger “You wanna hold onto your teeth?”
Before Miguel could respond, Daryl slapped him across the face.
T-Dog sighed “Question is,” he said, looking at Rick, “do you trust that man’s word?”
Daryl scoffed, his voice cutting through the tension. “No. Question is, what are you willing to bet on it? Could be more than them guns. Could be your life. Glenn worth that to you?”
Rick paused, his hands stilling over the bag of guns. He looked up “What life I have, I owe to him,” he said “I was nobody to Glenn, just some idiot stuck in a tank. He could’ve walked away, but he didn’t. Neither will I.”
Daryl raised an eyebrow, his skepticism clear. “So you’re gonna hand the guns over?”
Rick zipped the bag shut, standing to his full height. “I didn’t say that,” he replied evenly. He glanced between Daryl and T-Dog. “There’s nothing keeping you two here. You should get out, head back to camp.”
T-Dog crossed his arms “And tell your family what?”
Miguel, still sitting on the floor, shook his head. “Come on, this is nuts,” he muttered. “Just do like G says.”
Hideout
The group approached the hideout, Miguel walking ahead with his hands tied behind his back. The doors creaked open, and Guillermo stepped out, flanked by his men.
“I see my guns,” Guillermo said “But they’re not all in the bag.”
Rick met his gaze without flinching. “That’s because they’re not yours,” he said calmly. “I thought I mentioned that.”
Guillermo’s smirk faded, replaced by a cold, calculating expression. “I don’t think you fully appreciate the gravity of the situation,” he said, his voice dropping.
“No, I’m pretty clear.”
Without breaking eye contact, Rick stepped forward and cut Miguel free. The young man stumbled slightly, rubbing his wrists as he glanced nervously between Rick and Guillermo.
“You have your man,” Rick said. “I want mine.”
Guillermo’s expression darkened, his voice turning icy. “I’m gonna chop up your boy,” he said slowly, his words deliberate. “I’m gonna feed him to my dogs. They’re the evilest, nastiest man-eating bitches you ever saw. I picked them up from Satan at a yard sale. I told you how it has to be. Are you woefully deaf?”
Rick’s gaze didn’t falter. “No,” he said evenly. “My hearing’s fine. You said come locked and loaded.”
Rick raised his gun, pointing it directly at Guillermo. The sound of weapons cocking echoed around the group, each side bracing for the clash. “Okay then,” he said, his tone sharp. “We’re here.”
Before anyone could make a move, a voice rang out from behind Guillermo’s group. “Felipe! Felipe!” An elderly woman emerged.
Felipe’s face tightened as he turned toward her. “Abuela, go back with the others… now.”
Daryl’s eyes darted to the old woman, his grip tightening on his crossbow. “Get that old lady out of the line of fire!” he barked.
Guillermo raised a hand “Abuela, listen to your mijo, okay? This is not the place for you right now.”
But the woman wasn’t deterred. She stepped closer, her voice rising with urgency. “Mr. Gilbert is having trouble breathing,” she said. “He needs his asthma stuff. Carlitos didn’t find it. He needs his medicine.”
Guillermo’s expression softened slightly “Felipe, go take care of it, okay? And take your grandmother with you.”
Felipe hesitated, glancing between Guillermo and the group before nodding. “¡Abuela! Ven conmigo por favor,” he said.
The old woman ignored him, her sharp gaze locking onto Rick and his group. “Who are those men?” she asked.
Felipe stepped closer, his voice pleading. “Por favor, ven conmigo.”
But she didn’t budge. Her eyes narrowed as she pointed a finger at Rick. “Don’t you take him,” she said firmly.
Rick lowered his weapon slightly, his voice softening as he addressed her. “Ma’am?”
“Felipe’s a good boy,” she said. “He has his trouble, but he pulls himself together. We need him here.”
Rick shook his head “Ma’am, I’m not here to arrest your grandson.”
Her eyes narrowed “Then what do you want him for?”
Rick hesitated for a moment before answering. “He’s… helping us find a missing person. Fella named Glenn.”
Recognition flickered across her face. “The Asian boy?” she asked. “He’s with Mr. Gilbert. Come. Come, I’ll show you.”
Without waiting for a response, the grandmother reached out and took Rick’s hand. She began leading him toward the building, her steps purposeful.
As she passed Guillermo, she glanced at him briefly. “He needs his medicine,” she said simply.
Guillermo’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Let ’em pass,” he said
The grandmother led Rick, Daryl, and T-Dog through the nursing home’s dimly lit hallways. Rick’s eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the rows of elderly and sick patients, some lying on cots, others sitting in wheelchairs.
Felipe hurried forward, his voice urgent. “Abuela, por favor. Take me to him.”
The grandmother nodded, guiding them into the gymnasium. The space had been repurposed, with makeshift beds lining the walls and supplies stacked in corners. In the center of the room, an elderly man sat hunched over, struggling to breathe. Felipe and Glenn were by his side, working quickly to help him.
“All right, all right,” Felipe said, his tone soothing as he held the man’s shoulders. “Nice and easy. Just breathe. Just breathe. Just let it out. Just breathe. Just relax.”
Rick’s brow furrowed as he took in the scene. “What the hell is this?” he asked, his voice sharp with confusion.
Glenn glanced up “An asthma attack,” he explained. “Couldn’t get his breath all of a sudden.”
T-Dog let out a relieved laugh, shaking his head. “Man, I thought you were being eaten by dogs.”
Glenn gestured toward the corner, where a group of tiny Chihuahuas were “Those dogs?” he asked, smirking faintly.
Rick stepped closer to Guillermo, his voice dropping to a low growl. “Could I have a word with you?” he asked “You’re the dumbest son of a bitch I ever met. We walked in here ready to kill every last one of you.”
Guillermo met Rick’s glare with calm composure. “Well,” he said evenly, “I’m glad it didn’t go down that way.”
Rick’s jaw tightened. “If it had, that blood would be on my hands.”
Guillermo nodded slowly. “Mine too. We’d have fought back. Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had to. Protect the food, the medicine… what’s left of it. These people, the old ones… the staff took off, just left ’em here to die. Me and Felipe were the only ones who stayed.”
Rick’s expression softened slightly “What are you, doctors?”
Guillermo shook his head. “Felipe’s a nurse… a special care provider. Me, I’m the custodian.”
Rick glanced around the room. “What about the rest of your crew?”
Guillermo gestured toward the gymnasium. “The Vatos trickle in to check on their parents, their grandparents. They see how things are and most decide to stay. It’s a good thing too. We need the muscle. The people we’ve encountered since things fell apart, the worst kind… plunderers, the kind that take by force.”
“That’s not who we are.”
“How was I to know? My people got attacked, and you show up with Miguel hostage… appearances.”
T-Dog sighed “Guess the world changed.”
Guillermo shook his head. “No. It’s the same as it ever was. The weak get taken. So we do what we can here. The Vatos work on those cars, talk about getting the old people out of the city. But most can’t even get to the bathroom by themselves. Still, it keeps the crew busy, and that’s worth something. So we barred all the windows, welded all the doors shut except for one entrance. The Vatos, they go out, scavenge what they can to keep us going. We watch the perimeter night and day, and we wait. The people here, they all look to me now. I don’t even know why.”
Rick’s voice softened. “Because they can.”
After a moment of silence, Rick handed Guillermo his shotgun, dividing the guns and ammo evenly between the two groups.
Outside, the four men left the nursing home. Glenn glanced at Rick, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Admit it,” he said. “You only came back to Atlanta for the hat.”
Rick smirked faintly. “Don’t tell anybody.”
Daryl, however, wasn’t amused. He gestured toward the bag of guns, his frustration evident. “You’ve given away half our guns and ammo.”
Rick shook his head. “Not nearly half.”
Daryl scoffed. “For what? Bunch of old farts who are gonna die off momentarily anyhow? Seriously, how long you think they got?”
“How long do any of us?”
As they approached the spot where their truck had been parked, Glenn froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Oh my God,” he muttered.
Daryl’s voice rose sharply. “Where the hell’s our van?”
Glenn gestured toward the empty space. “We left it right there. Who would take it?”
Rick’s jaw tightened as realization dawned. “Merle.”
Daryl’s expression darkened. “He’s gonna be taking some vengeance back to camp.”
Camp
Andrea rummaged through the cabinets “Wrapping paper, color tissue, anything?” she muttered
Dale stepped inside, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
Andrea turned to him, exasperated. “How can you not have any?”
Dale shrugged, his tone dry. “Had I been informed of the impending apocalypse, I’d have stocked up.”
Andrea sighed, pulling out a small box and inspecting it before tossing it aside. “It’s Amy’s birthday tomorrow,” she said, her voice softening. “I’ve been marking days on the calendar just to make sure.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the mermaid necklace she’d found in Atlanta, holding it up for Dale to see. “You don’t give a gift unwrapped,” she added.
Dale smiled faintly, nodding. “Deep breath,” he said. “I’m sure I’ll find something here.”
Outside, Morales stood by the fire pit, gesturing toward the rocks he’d carefully arranged. “I, uh, built up the rocks all around. See? So the flames can be a little higher and have ’em be hidden.”
Shane and Harry approached Jim, who was sitting quietly nearby. Shane crouched down “Hey, Jim. How you feeling, man?”
Jim looked up “I’m better. More myself now.”
Shane nodded. “I hope you understand the need for this… this timeout. I’ve got others I’ve got to think about. I just want to make sure there’s no… there’s no hard feelings.”
Jim shook his head. “There’s not. I do understand.”
“Okay,” Shane said, standing up. “Why don’t you come join in with the rest of us? Big ol’ fish fry.”
Jim’s lips curved into a small smile. “I’d like that very much.”
“Okay,” Shane said, clapping him on the shoulder before walking back toward the fire.
Plates were passed around, and the air was filled with the comforting aroma of freshly cooked food.
“Pass the fish, please,” a woman said, her voice cheerful.
“Here you go,” a man replied, handing over a plate.
“Man, oh man, that’s good,” another man said, savoring his bite. “I miss this.”
Morales leaned back, his curiosity getting the better of him. “I’ve got to ask you, man. It’s been driving me crazy.”
Dale looked up from his plate. “What?”
“That watch,” Morales said, gesturing toward Dale’s wrist.
Dale frowned. “What’s wrong with my watch?”
Morales chuckled. “I see you every day, the same time, winding that thing like a village priest saying mass.”
Jacqui chimed in, her tone teasing. “I’ve wondered this myself.”
Dale raised an eyebrow. “I’m missing the point.”
Jacqui smirked. “Unless I’ve misread the signs, the world seems to have come to an end. At least hit a speed bump for a good long while.”
Morales nodded. “But there’s you every day, winding that stupid watch.”
Dale leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “Time… it’s important to keep track, isn’t it? The days at least. Don’t you think, Andrea? Back me up here.”
Andrea glanced up, a faint smile on her lips. Dale continued, his voice taking on a reflective tone. “I like what a father said to his son when he gave him a watch that had been handed down through generations. He said, ‘I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire, which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine or my father’s before me; I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you may forget it for a moment now and then and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it.’”
Amy laughed, shaking her head. “You are so weird.”
The group burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the camp.
“It’s not me,” Dale said, chuckling. “It’s Faulkner. William Faulkner. Maybe my bad paraphrasing.”
Amy stood up, brushing off her hands. “Where are you going?” Andrea asked, her tone curious.
“I have to pee,” Amy replied, rolling her eyes. “Jeez, you try to be discreet around here…”
The group laughed again as Amy walked toward the RV. Harry, sitting quietly by the fire, suddenly froze. A faint ringing sound reached his ears—Doug’s alarm. He stood slowly, his hand moving to his pistol as he scanned the darkness.
Amy stepped out of the RV “We’re out of toilet paper?” she demanded
Before anyone could respond, a walker lunged out of the shadows, grabbing her arm. Amy screamed, struggling against its grip. Harry’s voice rang out “Amy, get down!” He fired, the bullet piercing the walker’s skull.
“Mom!” Carl yelled as he clung to Lori.
“Carl!” Lori shouted, pulling him close.
Shane grabbed his shotgun, his voice commanding. “Lori, get him down!” He fired several shots, taking down the walkers that emerged from the darkness.
Nearby, Rick, T-Dog, Glenn, and Daryl heard the gunfire, their pace quickening. “Oh my God,” Rick muttered.
“Go! Go!” Glenn shouted
Back at the camp, chaos erupted as walkers swarmed the area. Jim grabbed a baseball bat, swinging it with force and crushing a walker’s skull. Dale climbed onto the RV, his rifle in hand, scanning for targets.
Morales swung his own bat, taking down another walker. “Follow me!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Lori clutched Carl tightly, her voice trembling. “I’m right here. Shane, what do we do?”
Morales shouted above the din, his voice cutting through the panic. “Follow me!” he yelled, his bat swinging as he took down two walkers that were closing in on his family. Katjaa pulled Clementine close to her and Duck, her eyes darting around as Mark and Kenny fired at the advancing undead.
Shane stayed close to Lori and Carl, his shotgun at the ready. “Come on,” he urged, “Stay close. Stay with me.”
“Harry!” she called, her eyes scanning the crowd
“Stay close!” Shane barked again as he fired another shot, taking down a walker that had gotten too close. “Come on, y’all! Work your way up here!”
Lori pointed ahead, her voice rising. “Right in front of you, Shane!”
Shane turned, firing another round and dropping the walker in its tracks. Morales, still swinging his bat, shouted back, “Get to the RV! Go!”
He managed to take down three more walkers before retreating toward the RV, his family close behind. Lori’s voice cracked as she called out again. “Shane! Shane!”
“Stay with me,” Shane said firmly, his hand on Carl’s shoulder as he guided them toward safety. “Stay behind me. Morales, work up here!”
Lori turned, her voice trembling “Get behind me! Let’s go! Stay with me.”
Shane nodded, his voice carrying over the chaos. “Come on, make your way to the Winnebago!”
Rick, T-Dog, Daryl, and Glenn burst into the camp, their weapons raised. “Go! Go!” he shouted, his pistol firing rapidly as he took down five walkers in quick succession.
Daryl fired his crossbow taking out two walkers before he swung the butt of his rifle, dispatching two more. Glenn fired twice, each shot finding its mark, while T-Dog took down one walker with a shot and another with a swing of his rifle.
Rick’s voice broke through the chaos, filled with desperation. “Baby! Carl! Baby! Harry!”
Carl’s voice rang out, high and clear. “Dad!”
Rick’s eyes locked onto his son, relief flooding his face. “Carl!” he called, his arms opening as Carl ran to him, throwing himself into his father’s embrace.
The walkers were finally down, their bodies scattered across the camp. Jim emerged from the shadows, his baseball bat resting on his shoulder, his expression grim.
“I remember my dream now,” Jim said quietly.