Ashes of the Apocalypse

Harry stood outside his car, the interstate stretching ahead. His mother stood beside him, her grip light on his arm, more for reassurance than anything else. Carl lingered near Shane, who was deep in conversation with Kenny, the two men having hit it off quickly.

Katjaa knelt near Sophia and Carl, offering them a few snacks from their  supply, her soft voice cutting through the quiet. Lori thanked her, weary but grateful, while Carol kept a watchful eye on her daughter. Ed stood apart, his presence an irritation Harry couldn’t ignore. He reminded him too much of Vernon Dursley—someone who carried a bad temper just for the sake of it.

And then everything changed.

The distant hum of engines cut through the night air, growing louder, drawing every gaze toward the horizon. Helicopters and planes flew overhead.

Shane and Kenny exchanged a look, instincts kicking in fast. “We’ll check it out,” Kenny muttered, already stepping forward.

Shane nodded, following him toward the ridge.

They were barely gone a minute before the first explosion ripped through the city.

The night sky ignited, the deep orange glow casting shadows as fire bloomed in violent bursts. The ground trembled beneath them.

Kenny and Shane sprinted back less than ten seconds later

“Grab everything and get to the woods!” Kenny shouted. “They’re napalming the city!”

The group barely had time to process before adrenaline took over. Bags were grabbed. Arms scooped up supplies.

Screams erupted behind them, a chorus of fear rising from those still on the interstate. The fires raged, consuming everything in sight as Harry forced himself forward.

The world behind them was burning.

Harry jolted awake, his breath coming in sharp gasps as the remnants of his nightmare clung to him. Sweat slicked his skin, his heartbeat still hammering in his chest. He blinked rapidly, forcing himself to steady his breathing, then turned his head.

Amy was still asleep beside him, her face peaceful, unaware of the distress he was in.

He exhaled quietly, careful not to wake her as he shifted out of the tent. The camp was already stirring—Carol was hunched over the fire, stirring the pot with practiced ease. Andrea sat nearby, sharpening a knife, her movements deliberate and rhythmic. Shane leaned against a tree, chewing on something, his gaze distant but sharp.

A few feet away, his father and mother sat beside Carl, sharing breakfast.

Harry made his way over, his steps slower than usual as exhaustion settled into his bones. He dropped onto the log beside them, reaching for a cup of water when movement caught his eye.

He hadn't noticed Glenn approaching until the words hit him like a gut punch.

“The barn’s full of walkers.”

Silence filled the camp.

T-Dog dropped his cup with a sharp clatter.

Everyone turned, staring at Glenn in shock.

Harry sat frozen, his mind barely catching up.

The group moved toward the barn. The second Shane glanced inside, he cursed, stepping back sharply. The sight of walkers shuffling behind those wooden doors was enough to make his skin crawl.

“You okay with this?” he snapped at Rick.

Rick’s jaw tightened. “No,” he admitted. “But this isn’t our land.”

Kenny scoffed, stepping forward. “Who gives a damn at this point?” he barked. “I’m not keeping my wife and kid around a barn full of walkers.”

Mark rubbed his chin, shaking his head. “Makes sense now,” he muttered. “I was confused why Hershel boarded up the barn when we were sleeping in it at the beginning.”

Glenn stepped in, his voice low “Lower your voices.”

Andrea glared at him “We can’t just sweep this under the rug.”

Christa folded her arms, expression tense. “We wouldn’t have come here if we’d known he was keeping them in his property.”

Shane exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. “This isn’t right,” he said. “We either clear that barn, or we leave.” He looked at Rick. “We’ve been talking about Benning for a long time.”

Rick’s face hardened. “We can’t go.”

“Why?” Shane shot back.

Ben stepped forward. “Travis is still missing,” he said.

Shane took a deep breath, his frustration rolling off him in waves. “We need to consider the possibility that Travis is dead.”

Rick immediately shook his head. “We’re not leaving without him.”

Daryl, who had been silent up until now, stiffened. “I just found his jacket two days ago,” he snapped.

“All you did was find a damn jacket,” Shane shot back.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” Daryl yelled.

Shane held his ground, his voice sharp. “I’m just saying what needs to be said. Let me tell you something else man, If Travis saw you out there coming all methed out with your buck knife and geek ears around your neck, he’d haul ass in the other direction.”

The words barely left his mouth before Daryl lunged at him, fists swinging.

Rick and Kenny moved fast, grabbing Daryl and holding him back.

Rick held up a hand, his voice sharp but steady. “Just let me talk to Hershel and figure this out,” he said, eyes locked on Shane.

Shane stepped closer, getting in Rick’s face “What the hell is there to figure out?”

Rick clenched his jaw. “If we’re clearing that barn, I’ve got to talk Hershel into it,” he said. “This is his land.”

Dale, standing slightly off to the side, exhaled slowly. “Hershel doesn’t see them the way we do,” he said. “To him, they’re sick people.”

Rick frowned, watching Dale carefully. “What are you saying?” he asked.

Dale’s expression tightened. “His wife and children are in there.”

Mark and Kenny exchanged a look, shame flickering across their faces.

Rick’s brows furrowed as he turned back to Dale. “Did you know this?” he demanded.

Dale hesitated before nodding. “I talked to him about it yesterday,” he admitted. “I thought we’d survive one more night.”

Kenny’s face hardened, anger brimming beneath the surface. “You risked those things getting out and into the camp!” he barked.

Dale shook his head. “That didn’t happen.”

“That’s not the damn point!” Shane exploded, throwing a hand toward the barn. “Hershel is crazy.”

Christa huffed, crossing her arms. “No argument there.”

Kenny didn’t hesitate to agree. “We can’t let this stand,” he snapped.

The conversation was cut short by a sudden, jarring thud.

The walkers inside the barn slammed against the doors, their groans filling the air.

The group backed away from the barn, the sound of walkers slamming against the wooden doors sending a ripple of unease through them. People scattered, murmurs and tense glances exchanged as Rick made his way toward the house.

But Shane wasn’t done.

He reached out, grabbing Harry’s arm, stopping him as the others drifted away. His expression was sharp “You agree with me, right?” he pressed. “About leaving?”

Harry’s jaw tightened. “We can’t leave.”

Shane threw his hands up, exasperation pouring off him. “Are you really comfortable having those things right next to your parents and brother?”

“No!” Harry snapped, his voice cutting through the air.

“Then why the hell can’t we leave?” Shane shouted.

Harry’s breath hitched, frustration boiling over as the words tore out of him before he could stop them. “Because Amy is pregnant!”

Shane froze, his expression shifting instantly from anger to pure shock.

His mouth opened slightly, but no words came as he stared at Harry for a good thirty seconds.

Shane exhaled sharply, looking away as he dragged a hand down his face. He flexed his jaw, shaking his head slightly before finally speaking.

“How long have you known?” he asked, his voice quieter now, less biting.

Harry shifted where he stood, still tense from the argument moments ago. “Since the night Daryl came back from his search,” he admitted.

Shane glanced at him, brow furrowing.

Harry exhaled, rubbing his neck. “I only told mom and dad last night,” he said. “They cornered me about how I’ve been acting. Glenn and Dale were the only ones who knew before that.”

Shane pressed his lips into a tight line, nodding slowly, trying to piece everything together in his head.

Shane exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders before nodding to himself. “We’ll have this solved soon,” he muttered

He turned on his heel, stalking off toward the fields, leaving Harry standing there, watching him go. The conversation still buzzed in his head, the weight of everything pressing heavier on his shoulders now than it had before.

He lingered for only a moment before finally pulling himself together and heading back toward the camp.

As he approached, Amy stirred inside the tent, pushing herself up and crawling out, her hair a tangled mess from sleep. She blinked at him, rubbing her eyes before frowning slightly.

“What’s happening?” she asked, her voice groggy but concerned.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair as he sat beside Amy. He hesitated for a moment, glancing toward the barn.

“There’s something we didn’t know about Hershel,” he finally said, his voice quieter than usual.

Amy blinked at him, still shaking off sleep. “What do you mean?” she asked.

Harry exhaled slowly. “The barn. It’s full of walkers.”

Amy stiffened, her face paling instantly. “What?” she whispered, eyes darting toward the structure.

Harry nodded grimly. “Glenn found out and told everyone this morning. Hershel doesn’t see them like we do. He thinks they’re sick—his wife and kids are in there.”

Amy sucked in a sharp breath, “Oh, God…”

Harry reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “We’re trying to figure out what to do,” he assured her. “Dad’s talking to Hershel now.”

Amy swallowed hard, her breath uneven. “And what if he won’t listen?” she asked.

Harry glanced toward the barn again.

“Then we have a real problem,” he admitted.

Amy swallowed hard, gripping Harry’s hand tightly as her voice wavered. “What are we going to do?” she asked, barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to stay here and risk the baby.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Andrea walked past, pausing as she caught the tail end of the conversation. She turned sharply, eyes locking onto Amy.

“What baby?” she demanded.

Amy hesitated for a moment, her hands fidgeting in her lap as she glanced at Harry. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to Andrea “I’m pregnant,” she said.

Andrea froze, her eyes widening as the words sank in. “Pregnant?” she repeated, her tone sharp with disbelief.

Amy nodded, her gaze dropping to the ground. “Yeah.”

Andrea’s expression shifted, a mix of shock and concern flashing across her face. “And you didn’t think to tell anyone?” she demanded, her voice rising slightly.

Amy straightened, her tone firmer now. “It’s not exactly something I wanted to announce to the whole camp,” she said. “Not yet.”

Andrea exhaled sharply, shaking her head “Shane’s right,” she muttered. “We either clear that barn—Hershel’s opinion be damned—or we leave.”

Amy tensed, her hands instinctively moving to her stomach. “And where would we go?” she demanded, her voice rising. “I’m not having my baby in some abandoned warehouse surrounded by the dead.”

Andrea glanced at her, expression hard but understanding the fear in her eyes. She didn’t have an answer—not a good one, anyway.

Carl sat cross-legged on the ground, scribbling in his notebook under his mother’s watchful gaze. The worn pages of his makeshift homework fluttered slightly in the breeze, but his mind wasn’t focused on the words in front of him.

He stopped mid-sentence, looking up. “Harry and Shane both think Travis is dead,” he said.

Lori frowned, leaning in slightly. “Why do you think that?” she asked.

Carl shrugged, his gaze shifting toward the barn before returning to her. “I heard Harry say it to Shane last night,” he admitted.

Lori’s expression tightened, but she kept her tone calm. “They’re just scared,” she told him.

Carl frowned. “Scared because of the walkers in the barn?”

Lori hesitated for a beat before nodding. “Yeah.”

Carl sighed, tapping his pencil against his knee. “I don’t want to leave until we find him,” he muttered the last part to himself. “Even if he was an asshole sometimes.”

Lori shot him a sharp look. “Watch your mouth.”

Carl huffed but didn’t argue. He looked toward the barn, then back at his mother, his voice firmer now. “I want to stay.”

Lori studied him for a moment before nodding, her expression softening slightly. “We’re not leaving,” she assured him.

 He fiddled with his pencil before speaking again. “You think Travis might like it here?” he asked. “Even if he complains about it all the time?”

Lori smiled softly, sighing as she reached over and pulled Carl into a hug.

Daryl stalked into the stable, his movements stiff, a saddle slung over his shoulder.

Carol stepped forward, arms crossed. “You can’t leave until you’re healed,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Hershel’s orders.”

Daryl scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t care.”

Carol’s expression didn’t waver. “I do,” she shot back. “Rick’s going out looking later.”

Daryl clenched his jaw, tossing the saddle onto the stall’s ledge. “I ain’t sitting around for nothing.”

“You’ll hurt yourself even worse,” Carol warned, stepping closer.

Daryl huffed “We don’t even know if we’re gonna find him,” she muttered.

Daryl turned to her, his brow furrowing. “What?”

Carol swallowed hard, her eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered.

Daryl stiffened, his breath catching for a fraction of a second before frustration took over. With a sharp growl, he grabbed the saddle and threw it, the heavy leather hitting the wall with a loud thud.

Pain flared in his side as he hissed, grabbing at the wound, gritting his teeth.

Carol flinched, stepping back slightly, but she didn’t move away.

Daryl shook his head, eyes burning. “Stupid bitch,” he muttered under his breath before shoving past her, storming out of the stable.

Back at the camp, Dale stood watching the barn, eyes narrowed with concern.

Glenn walked up beside him, hands tucked into his pockets. “Andrea’s looking for you,” 

Dale stepped into the RV, the familiar creak of the door barely registering as he rubbed a hand over his face, exhausted from the morning’s chaos. He had barely settled in when Andrea’s voice cut through the small space.

“I’m going with Rick to look for Travis,” she announced, sliding a pistol into the waistband of her jeans.

She paused, her gaze sharpening as she turned to him.

“Did you know Amy’s pregnant?” she asked bluntly, her voice carrying a slight edge.

Dale stiffened, taken aback, his expression shifting from surprise to something more serious. “I—” He exhaled slowly. “Yeah,” he admitted, nodding.

Andrea studied him, something unreadable flickering across her face before she turned back to securing her gear. “Figures,” she muttered, grabbing her jacket as she headed toward the door.

Dale leaned against the small table in the RV “Maybe you and Amy should stay away from Harry and Shane,” he said, his tone low but firm.

Andrea froze mid-step, turning to stare at him in surprise. “What?” she asked.

Dale met her gaze, “You might not really know the real Harry or Shane,” he said carefully.

Andrea’s eyes narrowed, her tone hardening. “Don’t do this, Dale.”

“It’s important,” Dale insisted.

Andrea shook her head, crossing her arms. “I thought you liked Harry.”

“It’s not that,” Dale said quickly, his voice tinged with frustration. “But do you really want to end up like Shane and Harry? Is that what you want?”

Andrea’s jaw tightened, her voice rising slightly. “We can take care of ourselves.”

Dale sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “You don’t really know either of them,” he said quietly.

Andrea’s expression shifted before she straightened. “Stop,” she said firmly. “And don’t say this stuff to Amy. She doesn’t need the stress—not with the baby.”

Without waiting for a response, Andrea turned and walked out the door.

Dale stood there for a moment, exhaling slowly “You okay?” Glenn asked.

Dale nodded, forcing a small smile. “Yeah,” he said. “Can you grab me some water?”

Glenn nodded “You keeping watch?” he asked, glancing at the weapon bag Dale was reaching for.

Dale nodded again, his grip tightening on the bag. “Yeah,” he said simply.

House

Rick stepped into the farmhouse Hershel sat at the table, eating with a book spread open beside him.

Rick walked up, eyeing the pages. “Light reading?” he asked casually.

Hershel didn’t look up. “Been working hard,” he said. “I get my studying in when I can.”

Rick nodded, glancing out the window toward the fields. “We could help,” he offered.

Hershel shook his head. “It’s my field to tend.”

Rick exhaled, adjusting his stance. “We know about the barn.”

Hershel’s chewing slowed, but he didn’t flinch. “Leave it,” he said simply.

Rick shook his head. “I want to talk about it.”

Hershel sighed, pushing his book aside. “I don’t want a debate.”

“It’s a discussion,” Rick corrected, voice firm but measured.

Hershel set his spoon down. “Your group needs to be gone by the end of the week.”

Rick stiffened, but he didn’t react immediately. “I talked to Dale,” he said carefully. “We see the walkers differently. To you, they might be sick. To us, they might be dead. Might be alive. But my group? They are alive. They are right in front of me. If we go out there, that will change.”

Hershel folded his hands together. “My conscience is clear.”

Rick scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “This farm is special,” he said. “It shields you from what’s happening.”

“You saw it on the news,” he reminded Hershel. “But it’s been a long time since the cameras stopped.”

Rick nodded. “The first time I saw a walker, she was missing half her body,” he said quietly. “And my first thought wasn’t to kill her. The world outside—it’s different than the news made it seem. It’s worse. It changes you—into a walker or something less than what you were.”

He leaned forward, his voice softer “Don’t send us out there.”

Hershel met his gaze, unmoving.

Rick inhaled deeply. “Amy is pregnant,” he revealed. “With my oldest son’s baby.” His voice steadied. “It’s a gift here. A death sentence out there.”

Hershel’s lips pressed into a firm line.

“We can help you,” Rick continued. “We can survive here.”

Hershel sighed, shaking his head. “You can’t.”

Rick straightened, eyes narrowing. “You thought about it,” he pressed. “Think again.”

Rick left, Hershel seeing Maggie had heard the whole thing.

Rick walked up to Shane, who was leaning against the tractor, arms crossed, frustration written all over his face. The tension between them had been brewing since morning, and now it was reaching its peak.

“What’s it gonna be?” Shane asked, his voice tight.

Rick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “We’re negotiating.”

Shane huffed, shaking his head. “Clock’s ticking, man.”

Rick exhaled, meeting his gaze. “It’s not. The barn is secure. We didn’t even know about it until this morning.”

Shane scoffed, pushing off the tractor. “Yeah, well, we know about it now,” he snapped. “There’s a dozen walkers in that damn barn.”

Rick squared his shoulders. “We can’t clear it out.”

“So what?” Shane demanded. “We leave?”

Rick shook his head. “Amy’s pregnant.”

Shane stiffened for only a second before nodding. “I know. Harry told me after we found the barn.”

Rick studied him, waiting for more of a reaction, but Shane just exhaled deeply, his frustration shifting into something more restrained.

“We need to stay,” Rick said.

Shane ran a hand over his face. “Then we need more guns,” he muttered.

Rick didn’t argue, just nodded slightly. “We’ll work everything out.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Shane standing there,

House

Hershel stepped into the kitchen, greeting Maggie with a soft nod as she stood at the counter, cutting potatoes in quiet, tense movements. The silence between them stretched uncomfortably, until Hershel finally spoke.

“Carl doesn’t need help anymore,” he said simply.

Maggie’s knife paused mid-slice. She exhaled sharply, lifting her gaze. “That’s it?” she demanded.

Hershel sighed, leaning against the table. “It’s going to be hard,” he admitted. “But Rick is being dramatic. They’re a strong group. They’ll do fine out there. They can find their own farm.”

Maggie scoffed, shaking her head as she dropped the knife onto the cutting board. “The other farms nearby are either burnt down or crawling with walkers,” she snapped.

Hershel stopped, studying her carefully. His brows furrowed. “What are you saying?” he asked. “That we just keep them here forever? They are not my responsibility.”

Maggie turned, her expression sharp, her voice steady. “A new commandment I give unto you: love one another as I have loved you,” she quoted.

Hershel’s jaw tightened slightly. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

Maggie nodded. “That’s what you told me,” she shot back.

She hesitated for a moment, her frustration shifting into something deeper, something raw. “I was mad at you for a long time,” she admitted. “Mad about my mother. About you marrying Annette. I was awful when I was fourteen.”

Hershel sighed, nodding slowly. “That was different,” he said.

“You were different,” Maggie pressed.

He exhaled, tilting his head slightly. “I was,” he admitted. “But we aren’t. And I love you.”

Maggie swallowed hard, then shook her head. “This isn’t about Glenn,” she muttered.

Hershel studied her carefully. “No?”

“No,” Maggie insisted. “But he saved my life yesterday when one of those things tried to kill me.”

She stepped closer, her voice firm. “Things are different outside the farm. And you know that. Don’t do this, Dad. This isn’t about them—it’s about you. About who you are.”

Before Hershel could respond, the kitchen door swung open, and Otis rushed in, breathing hard.

“It happened again,” he announced.

Camp

Hershel approached Rick. “I need your help,” he said simply.

Andrea, standing nearby, straightened. “I’ll go too,” she offered.

Hershel shook his head. “I just need Rick.”

Andrea frowned but nodded, glancing toward the barn. “I’ll be at the barn if you need me,” she said before walking off.

Rick studied Hershel for a moment before following him.

Across the camp, Harry was making his way toward the tents when Carl stepped into his path. “Can we talk for a second?” Carl asked.

Harry slowed “You okay?”

Carl squared his shoulders. “I don’t think Travis is dead,” he said firmly. “And it’s bullshit that you do.”

Harry’s face hardened instantly. “Excuse me?” he demanded.

Carl held his ground. “You and Shane are both being assholes about it.”

Harry’s glare sharpened, his jaw clenching as he took a step closer. “What did you just say to me?” he growled.

Carl didn’t back down. “You heard me,” he snapped. “You’re being an asshole.”

Both brothers glared at each other, blue meeting green.

Then Lori’s voice cut through the tension. “Carl, come here” she called, her tone carrying just enough authority to break the standoff.

Carl hesitated but finally turned toward his mother, leaving Harry standing there, fists clenched, frustration simmering beneath the surface.

Shane caught Harry’s eye and jerked his head toward the RV, a silent order. “Come on,” he muttered, stepping inside and pulling open a storage compartment. “Help me find the guns.”

Harry followed, immediately scanning the shelves and boxes, searching for anything that had been moved. Shane was already tearing through supplies, his movements sharp with frustration.

“Where the hell did he put ’em?” Shane huffed, tossing aside a bag of canned goods.

Harry checked under the table, his brow furrowed. “Dale wouldn’t just leave them out,” he muttered.

Shane cursed under his breath, standing up straight. Spotting Glenn walking past outside, he pushed the door open. “Which way did Dale go?” he called.

Glenn paused, confused. “He said he needed water,” he replied. “Sent me to get it.”

Shane scoffed. “He was gone when you got back?”

Glenn nodded. “Yeah.” He frowned slightly. “You think he’s okay?”

Shane exhaled sharply but nodded. “He’s fine. But he didn’t want you to tell anyone which way he went.”

Shane turned back to Harry, rubbing his face in frustration. “You take one side, I’ll take the other,” he ordered

Woods

Hershel, Rick, and Otis stood over the walkers, its body half-sunken in the thick mud, arms twitching weakly as it struggled.

Hershel stared at the creature, his expression unreadable. “This was Lou Bush,” he said after a long pause. “I don’t know the man, but I figure he worked at her farm.”

Rick remained silent, watching Hershel closely as the older man sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before turning to him. “How many have you killed?” Hershel asked.

“Too many to count.”

Hershel nodded slowly, as if expecting the answer. He stepped closer, looking at Rick “Can you stop?”

Rick held his gaze for a long moment before nodding.

“They’re not in their right mind,” Hershel continued, his voice calm but firm. “It doesn’t matter if you see them as human beings or not. But as long as they stay on this farm—we treat them like they are.”

His tone left no room for debate.

Rick clenched his jaw but nodded.

“This is my barn. My farm. My say,” Hershel finished.

Rick didn’t argue.

Rick, Hershel, and Otis worked in heavy silence, muscles straining as they dragged the walkers from the thick mud. Their limbs flailed weakly as they reached for them/

Otis exhaled sharply, wiping sweat from his brow. “If we get ’em halfway out, they do the rest,” he muttered, gripping the dog-catcher pole tightly as they wrestled the creature upright.

Rick watched as Otis expertly maneuvered the pole, securing the walker’s neck in the restraint. His movements were practiced, steady—as if this was just another part of farm life.

Otis caught Rick’s look and shrugged. “Whenever one comes onto the property, I put ’em into the barn,” he explained, his voice almost casual, as if this routine had become second nature.

Rick exchanged a glance with Hershel, who remained stoic, unbothered.

Otis nodded toward the path ahead. “Lead ’em.”

Rick tightened his grip on the pole, hesitation flickering in his expression before he finally stepped forward, guiding the trapped walker toward the barn.

Harry was the one who found Dale in the woods, crouched low and trying to shove the bag of guns behind a fallen log. Dale froze when he saw Harry, his face tightening as he straightened up.

“Good hiding place,” Harry said, his tone sharp and mocking. “But you’ve obviously never been in the swamps before.”

Dale didn’t respond, his grip tightening on the bag as Harry stepped closer. “Give me the bag,” Harry demanded.

“I won’t,” Dale said firmly, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, you will,” he said, his tone dark as he stepped forwards.

Dale’s expression hardened. “What are you gonna do, Harry?” he asked. “Kill me like you did Ed Peletier and tell everyone a different story?”

Harry froze for a moment, his gaze locking onto Dale’s. He didn’t say a word, but the silence was damning.

Dale shook his head in disgust. “You don’t even deny it,” he muttered.

Harry stepped forward, his voice low and biting. “I admit it. So what?” he snapped. “Ed Peletier was a wife-beating, child-beating piece of shit. No one misses him—not Carol, not Sophia, not anyone.”

Dale’s jaw tightened, his voice rising slightly. “He was a human being, despite his flaws. And you still killed him.”

Harry chuckled darkly, “Give me the guns,” he demanded again.

Dale shook his head. “Your father’s talking to Hershel,” he said, his voice quieter now.

Harry’s expression darkened further. “Shut up,” he snapped. “And give up the guns.”

Dale’s grip on the bag tightened. “Do I have to shoot you?” he asked, aiming his rifle at Harry’s chest.

Harry stepped closer, grabbing the barrel of Dale’s gun and pressing it to his chest. “Do it,” he said, his voice cold.

Dale stared at him, his breath hitching as Harry leaned in further. “What do you think my parents would do if they found out you shot me in the woods?” Harry asked, his tone sharp. “What do you think Amy and Andrea would think? What do you think Shane would do if you killed me out here? He doesn’t even like you that much.”

Harry’s voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. “Pull the trigger if you want to find out.”

Dale’s hands trembled as he slowly lowered the gun, his expression twisted with frustration and defeat. “You belong in this world,” he spat. “You and Shane both.”

With that, Dale turned and walked away, leaving Harry standing there. Harry grabbed the gun bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he watched Dale disappear into the trees.

Harry caught up with Shane as the two made their way toward the house, their pace brisk, their minds set. As they approached the porch, the group—minus Rick—stood gathered, waiting in uneasy silence.

Shane wasted no time. His eyes locked onto Daryl. “You with us?” he asked, voice sharp.

Daryl gave a curt nod. “Yeah.”

Shane exhaled, turning to the others. “It’s time to grow up,” he declared.

Andrea tightened her grip on her pistol. “I’ve got mine,” she said. “Where’s Dale?”

“He’s on his way,” Shane muttered, dismissing the concern.

T-Dog frowned. “I thought we couldn’t carry all of them.”

Shane scoffed. “We can. And we will. Sitting around picking daisies, thinking this place was safe—that was one thing.” He gestured toward the barn. “But we know better now.”

His eyes landed on Mark and Kenny. “You in?” he asked.

Mark looked down at Clementine, hesitation flickering across his face before he reached for the guns. Kenny glanced at his family, his jaw tightening before grabbing his own.

Carley didn’t hesitate—she took hers without a word.

Shane turned to Christa and Omid. “Can you shoot?”

Christa nodded firmly. “I can.”

Maggie stepped forward, tension in her expression. “If you do this, we’ll be kicked from the farm tonight,” she warned.

Before anyone could respond, Lori stormed up. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded.

Shane squared his shoulders. “We’re not going anywhere,” he said. “Hershel’s gonna have to understand.”

He turned to Carl. “We need to find Travis.”

Lori’s expression hardened. “Stop this—both of you,” she snapped, looking between Shane and Harry. “This isn’t your decision.”

Before anyone could respond, T-Dog swore “Oh shit.”

Everyone turned to see Rick, Hershel, and Otis leading walkers toward the barn.

Shane’s eyes widened in pure disbelief. “What is that?” he yelled before breaking into a sprint, charging toward them.

The rest of the group followed.

Rick swore under his breath as he spotted the group storming toward them. Shane was at the front, his voice sharp as he shouted, “What the hell are you doing?”

Rick stepped forward, raising a hand. “Back off,” he ordered, his tone firm.

Hershel’s gaze hardened as he noticed the weapons. “Why do they have guns?” he demanded.

Shane scoffed, his frustration boiling over. “Are you kidding me?” he snapped. “Do you see what you’re holding onto?”

Hershel didn’t flinch. “I see who we’re holding onto,” he said evenly.

Shane’s jaw tightened, his voice rising. “No, you don’t!” he yelled.

Rick stepped in, his tone steady but strained. “Let us do this,” he said. “Then we’ll talk.”

Shane’s eyes narrowed, his anger spilling over. “Talk about what?” he demanded. “These things aren’t sick. They aren’t people. They’re dead. They don’t feel anything. All they do is kill.”

His voice grew louder, more heated. “They’re the things that killed the people we cared about! They killed Jim! And they’ll kill all of us!”

Rick’s voice cut through the chaos. “Shut up!” he yelled.

But Shane wasn’t done. He pulled out his pistol.“You think a living, breathing person could walk away from this?” he challenged, aiming at the reanimated corpse of Lou Bush.

He fired multiple shots, his voice rising with each one. “I hit the lungs! I hit the heart! Why is it still going?”

Rick stepped forward, his voice firm. “That’s enough!”

Shane’s gaze shifted to Rick, his expression hard. “You’re damn right it’s enough,” he yelled before walking forward and shooting the walker in the head.

Shane turned back to the group, his voice booming. “That’s enough risking our necks for a teen boy who’s gone! Enough living next to a barn full of things that want to kill us!”

He gestured toward the barn, his frustration spilling over. “This isn’t like before! If we want to live—if we want to survive—we fight for it. Right here. Right now.”

Shane turned toward the barn, his face set with determination. Without hesitation, he grabbed the pickaxe and broke the lock with a swift motion.

Rick’s voice rang out, desperate. “Hershel, take the pole!” he yelled, stepping forward. “Shane, don’t do this!”

Chaos erupted as everyone began shouting, their voices overlapping. Harry and the others who had sided with Shane raised their guns. Lori pulled Carl behind her, shielding him as the tension reached its breaking point.

The barn doors creaked open, and the walkers began to stumble out. Harry and the others opened fire, the sharp cracks of gunfire cutting through the air. Maggie hesitated, her face pale, before giving Glenn a nod of permission. He joined the fray.

Amid the chaos, Harry turned, locking eyes with his father. Rick’s glare was filled with fury and disbelief, but Harry didn’t falter. He raised his gun and shot the walker Rick had been holding on the pole, the creature collapsing instantly. Without a word, Harry turned back to the barn, his expression unreadable.

The group continued their grim work, the walkers falling one by one under the relentless barrage of bullets. Rick’s voice cut through the noise, desperately yelling “Stop!” but his plea went unheard.

The gunfire paused briefly as two walker girls, no older than ten, stumbled out of the barn. The sight froze everyone in place, the horror of it sinking in. Harry stepped forward, his face hard, and shot them both in the head. The sound of Beth’s scream shattered the silence as she collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.

Shane and those who had sided with him stood facing the others, their expressions defiant, while the others stared in shock and horror.

All attention turned back to the barn as the last walker emerged. The reanimated corpse of Travis growled, its lifeless eyes scanning the group. The shock rippled through them, freezing them in place.

Ben broke down, sobbing uncontrollably as he tried to run toward Travis. Daryl and Carol held him back as they struggled to keep him from reaching the walker.

Travis’s walker form stumbled closer. The group stood frozen, unable to move, unable to process what they were seeing.

Rick stepped forward, his revolver in his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said.

He pulled the trigger.