Nebraska
The group stood frozen, their eyes locked on Travis’s lifeless corpse. The only sound was Ben’s heart-wrenching sobs as Carol and Daryl gently dragged him away, his cries echoing through the tense silence. Rick’s glare burned into Shane and the others who had taken part in the shooting, his fury barely contained.
Beth, trembling, moved toward the corpse of her mother, the walker coming back to laugh and trying to take a bite out of her as Beth screamed and struggled. Carley raised her pistol and put down Annette with a single shot. The group watched in stunned silence as Hershel led his family back toward the house.
Kenny and Shane followed after them, their anger boiling over. “Did you know Travis was in there the whole time?” Kenny demanded.
Rick stepped in, trying to defuse the situation. “Back off,” he said firmly, placing a hand on Kenny’s shoulder.
Kenny shoved him away angrily. “Don’t touch me!” he snapped, his frustration spilling over. “Don’t you dare defend them!”
Otis, standing nearby, raised his hands defensively. “I didn’t know,” he said, his voice strained. “I led him to the farm before your group came. I didn’t know he was in there.”
“Bullshit!” Kenny yelled, his face red with anger.
“I didn’t know!” Otis shouted back, his voice cracking.
Hershel stepped in, his tone cold “I don’t care what you believe,” he said sharply. “I want you all gone.”
Maggie, her face pale with fury, turned to Kenny and slapped him hard across the face. “You’ve done enough damage,” she hissed.
Hershel nodded, his expression grim. “Get off my property,” he said before leading his family into the house, slamming the door behind them.
Shane turned to Rick, his frustration boiling over. “Daryl almost died looking for Travis,” he said, his voice low “And he was in that barn the whole time. Otis never said a damn thing.”
Rick shook his head. “He didn’t know,” he said firmly. “And Hershel isn’t like that.”
Kenny scoffed. “He put us all in danger,” he muttered.
Rick’s patience snapped. “And you think the answer is to start an insurrection?” he demanded. “To massacre their friends and family in front of them?”
Christa, standing nearby, crossed her arms. “Those things stopped being Hershel’s family when they got bit,” she said sharply.
Rick turned to her, his voice rising. “And now they think we just murdered them in cold blood!”
Shane stepped forward, his tone dismissive. “I don’t care,” he said flatly.
Rick’s eyes narrowed. “I was handling it,” he said through gritted teeth.
Shane scoffed. “You had us looking for a teenager most of the group accepted was long dead,” he snapped. “You’re as delusional as Hershel.”
Without waiting for a response, Shane turned and walked away, Kenny following close behind. Christa hesitated for a moment before shaking her head and walking after them, leaving Rick standing alone.
Andrea knelt beside Travis’s lifeless body, her hands trembling as she draped a blanket over him. Harry stood nearby, his expression unreadable as he helped her.
In the RV, Carol sat on the edge of the small bed, her arm wrapped protectively around a sobbing Ben. Sophia sat beside him, her small hand resting gently on his shoulder, offering silent comfort.
Meanwhile, in the house, Glenn stood in the kitchen with Maggie, his voice hesitant as he broke the silence. “Did you know Travis was in the barn?” he asked softly.
Maggie stared at him, her face pale, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief. She didn’t answer, her mind racing.
Glenn shifted uncomfortably, glancing away. “I guess… I guess this is for the best,” he said, his voice faltering. “We can move on now.”
Maggie’s gaze snapped to him, her voice sharp. “Move on?” she repeated, her tone incredulous.
Glenn hesitated, fumbling for words. “It’s just… it meant so much to everyone to find Travis,” he said carefully. “But now—”
“Now we just move on?” Maggie demanded, cutting him off.
Glenn sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “If we can,” he said quietly. “We’ve lost others before.”
Maggie’s voice softened, but the tension remained. “What happens now?” she asked, her tone quieter but no less strained.
Glenn met her gaze, his expression somber. “We bury him,” he said. “With your stepmom and siblings.”
Maggie nodded slowly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “And after that?” she whispered.
Glenn shook his head, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know.”
Harry stood still, listening as Carl’s voice carried through the air. “I thought we’d find Travis alive,” Carl muttered, his voice quiet, almost uncertain. “I thought he was just hiding somewhere.”
Harry glanced toward him, watching the boy struggle to process the truth.
Carl swallowed hard. “Dad was right to put him down,” he said, his tone heavier now.
Lori, standing nearby, sighed and placed a hand on Carl’s shoulder. “Dale,” she called, turning to the older man, “take Carl inside.”
Dale nodded, gently guiding Carl away toward the house.
Rick approached the group, his gaze falling on the corpses spread across the ground.
T-Dog cleared his throat. “Should we start burying?” he asked, breaking the silence.
Andrea crossed her arms. “We should have a service for Travis,” she said. “For Ben’s sake.”
T-Dog nodded. “Yeah.”
Lori exhaled, rubbing a hand over her face before stepping forward. “Dig the graves by the trees,” she ordered.
Jimmy spoke up, fidgeting slightly. “I’ll get the keys.”
“I got the truck,” Shane announced before turning and walking off.
Jimmy shook his head, muttering, “That’s a lot of digging.”
Andrea glanced at him. “We bury the ones we love,” she said. “Burn the rest.”
Lori turned to the group, her voice steady. “Everyone, get to work.”
Andrea and Harry exchanged a glance before heading off.
Rick’s voice broke through the silence as he turned to Lori. “Hershel wants us—or Shane—off the farm.”
Lori inhaled deeply. “Could be worse.”
She hesitated, noticing the way Rick stared at the ground, his expression distant. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Rick sighed, shaking his head slightly. “He was in there the whole time,” he murmured.
Lori’s face softened. “You did everything you could.”
Rick’s jaw tightened. “I had everyone chasing a ghost in the forest,” he muttered.
Shane caught sight of Dale standing by his truck, his eyes locked onto him with unspoken judgment. Shane exhaled sharply, tossing his gear into the back before turning fully to face him.
"You got something to say, Mr. Moral Authority?" Shane asked, his voice laced with irritation. "Voice of reason got an opinion?"
Dale remained silent.
Shane scoffed, shaking his head. "What exactly have you done to keep this group safe?" he pressed, stepping closer. "You fix the RV, babysit the guns, then decide to point one at my godson’s chest. But you were smart enough not to pull the trigger." He leaned in slightly. "Because if you had, I'd have killed you."
Dale’s expression tightened. "Harry told you that, huh?" he asked.
Shane smirked. "Yeah.”
“And did he tell you he killed Ed Peletier?" Dale challenged.
Shane’s jaw clenched. "If Harry and I are such dangers, what exactly did you do to stop us?" he asked, his voice lower now, more strained.
Shane scoffed again, shaking his head. "I smashed the barn door open," he said, voice sharper now. "Saved Carl, Lori, and Harry. That wasn't you. That was me."
Shane turned back to his truck, pulling the door open. “If I need a radiator hose, Dale?" he mocked. "Then I’ll call you."
The sound of shovels cutting into dirt filled the air as Andrea, Shane, Harry, T-Dog, and Jimmy worked silently, each absorbed in their own thoughts as they dug the graves.
Lori approached, her footsteps crunching softly against the ground. She stopped for just a moment, her gaze lingering on Harry. He caught the look out of the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable as he held her gaze.
T-Dog let out a breath, tossing his shovel aside. “We’re done,” he announced, brushing dirt off his hands.
Lori made her way to the RV, her voice steady as she addressed the group. “The sermon’s about to begin.”
Inside, Carol gently led Ben out of the RV, her arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders. Sophia walked beside him, her small hand gripping his tightly, offering whatever comfort she could. Behind them, Daryl followed his expression unreadable.
Inside the house, Hershel sat quietly at the edge of his bed, his hands moving through Annette’s belongings with slow, deliberate motions. Shirts, old books, remnants of a life that no longer existed. He hesitated when his fingers brushed against something cool and metallic—a worn flask, familiar and heavy in his grasp.
He stared at it for a moment before twisting off the cap, inhaling the faint scent of liquor long dried up. His face remained expressionless as he stood, sliding the flask into his pocket. He didn’t need to think about where he was going next.
He just needed to get out.
Outside, the group stood somberly before the graves, the silence stretching between them like an unspoken weight. One by one, they slowly began to disperse, their grief carried with them.
Carol led Ben toward a nearby field, Sophia beside him, her small hand gripping his tightly. Ben’s eyes were fixed on the woods beyond, his expression distant.
“I don’t know if my parents or my little sister are alive,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never got back to my house. I don’t know if they’re alive, dead, or… one of those things.”
His gaze dropped to the ground, bitterness creeping into his voice. “I might be the last person alive from my old school.”
T-Dog and Andrea worked in grim silence, hauling the corpses to Shane’s truck. Andrea broke the silence, her voice low. “Lucky there weren’t more,” she said. “We’d have been overrun.”
T-Dog nodded, his expression serious. “It’s good Shane did what he did,” he said.
Dale, standing nearby, shook his head. “This isn’t right,” he muttered.
Rick, leaning against the truck, sighed heavily. “It’s not,” he agreed. “And it’s going to cost us with Hershel.”
Andrea straightened, brushing dirt off her hands. “He’s grieving,” she said. “But he’ll come around. He’ll see we didn’t have a choice.”
She glanced at Rick. “This wasn’t all Shane,” she added.
T-Dog nodded again. “She’s right.”
Lori approached, her arms crossed. “There’s no point arguing about it now,” she said firmly. “It’s done.”
With that, T-Dog and Andrea climbed into the truck, the engine rumbling to life as they drove off toward the burn area.
At the burn site, they worked quickly, dumping the bodies into the pit. The flames roared to life, consuming the remains.
Andrea turned to Harry, who stood nearby, his face shadowed with guilt. “Don’t beat yourself up about the barn,” she said, her voice steady. “We did the right thing.”
Harry’s jaw tightened, his voice bitter. “I’m sure my parents don’t think that way,” he muttered. “They’re pretty pissed at me.”
Andrea hesitated, then shook her head. “They’ll get over it,” she said. “You did what was necessary to protect the group—and the baby.”
T-Dog, standing nearby, frowned. “What baby?” he asked, his tone cautious.
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. Andrea froze, her expression shifting as realization dawned.
Harry exhaled deeply. “The whole group’s going to know soon if we keep doing this,” he muttered. He glanced at T-Dog. “Amy’s pregnant.”
T-Dog stared at the fire a moment longer before letting out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Man… just when I thought things couldn’t get more complicated.”
House
Maggie sat across from Glenn, her arms crossed as she studied him carefully. “If your group leaves… would you stay?” she asked, her voice steady but uncertain.
Glenn hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “I hadn’t thought about it,” he admitted. “I don’t know.” He let out a breath, shaking his head. “You think this is the time to ask?”
“There isn’t a lot of time for anything,” Maggie shot back.
“There is,” Glenn said, his tone firm but before he could say more, a thud behind them made both their heads snap toward the doorway.
Beth had collapsed.
Maggie barely had time to say her name before they rushed to her, finding her unresponsive. Panic settled in quickly as they lifted her and carried her to a bedroom, laying her down as carefully as they could.
Lori appeared moments later, worry etched into her features. “What happened?” she asked.
Glenn shook his head, still catching his breath. “We can’t find Hershel.”
Without hesitation, Lori turned and hurried off to get Rick.
Minutes later, Rick and Shane searched Hershel’s room, rifling through drawers and shelves. Shane lifted a flask from a bedside table, holding it up with a smirk. “Looks like Hershel found an old friend.”
Maggie stiffened. “My father isn’t a drinker,” she said sharply. “He refused to have that in the house.”
Rick’s expression darkened as he tucked his hands into his pockets. “Where’s the town bar?” he asked.
Glenn exhaled, nodding toward the door. “I know where it is, I’ll take you.”
Rick nodded “We’ll bring him back.”
Lori stepped forward, arms crossed, watching them carefully. “Do you even want to talk about this?” she asked.
Shane scoffed, shaking his head. “You can’t just leave—not after everything that happened.”
Lori sighed. “He’s right,” she muttered.
Shane didn’t respond, just turned and walked off.
Lori watched him go before turning her focus back to Rick. “Carl told me he would’ve shot Travis himself,” she said quietly. “He’s getting cold.”
Rick inhaled deeply, his jaw tightening.
“And Harry…” Lori hesitated. “He helped Shane and the others kill the barn walkers. He’s changing—from the man I thought I knew. The man we raised.”
“We need Hershel,” he said finally. “For Amy’s baby.”
Lori nodded slowly.
“I’m going after him,” Rick said.
Later, Rick stood outside, his hands steady as he loaded rounds into his revolver. Each click echoed in the quiet, a rhythmic preparation for what lay ahead. His gaze lifted toward the house as Glenn emerged, his expression tense but resolute.
Glenn walked up, adjusting his grip on his own weapon. Rick met his eyes, his voice calm but firm. “You ready?”
Glenn nodded once. “Yeah.”
Without another word, the two climbed into the truck, the engine rumbling to life as Rick shifted into gear. The vehicle pulled away from the farmhouse, dust kicking up behind them as they sped down the road.
Shane let the cold water rush over his head.
As he straightened, pushing the water back from his face, movement caught his eye. Ben was stumbling out of the woods, his steps uneven, his eyes distant—like he wasn’t really seeing anything in front of him.
Shane wiped his face quickly and stepped forward, blocking the boy’s path. “Ben?” he called, his voice cautious. “You okay?”
Ben didn’t respond, didn’t even really look at him. His gaze was unfocused, lost somewhere far away.
Shane exhaled sharply and placed a firm hand on Ben’s shoulder, gently steering him toward a spot to sit. The kid didn’t resist—just let himself be led, sinking onto a rock as Shane crouched in front of him.
“I’m sorry about the barn,” Shane said, his voice quieter now, steadier. “Me and Harry… we didn’t know Travis was in there.”
Ben still didn’t react.
Shane sighed, running a hand over his shaved head. “I know what everyone thinks. That I’m unhinged. That I just do whatever the hell I want.” He shook his head, the frustration evident in his voice. “But I was just trying to keep everyone safe.”
Ben remained silent, staring at the ground
Lori and Dale stepped out of the house, the weight of the day pressing down on them. Dale exhaled, glancing around at the farm, his expression troubled. “This place is going to hell,” he muttered.
Lori’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m trying to forget that,” she said, her tone clipped.
Dale shook his head. “You can’t,” he said firmly. “Not when people in the group think they were justified.”
Lori’s posture stiffened. “They did what needed to be done,” she said.
Dale sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before looking directly at her. “Harry killed Ed Peletier,” he said.
Lori froze, her eyes widening in shock as she stared at him. The words hit like a slap, her breathing sharp and controlled as she processed them. Her expression slowly shifted, fury replacing disbelief.
“How dare you accuse my son of that?” she growled. “Ed Peletier died from walkers.”
Dale held his ground “Harry looked me straight in the eye and told me that himself—before the barn incident.”
Lori shook her head, fists clenching. “That’s a lie.”
“It’s not,” Dale said quietly. “And Shane knows about it.”
Lori’s gaze darkened, the anger simmering beneath the surface. “I know my boy,” she hissed. “He’s not a murderer.”
Dale inhaled deeply, his expression grim. “He threw it in my face, said no one missed Ed.”
Lori wasn’t ready to believe it.
Patricia, Maggie, Otis, Jimmy, and Andrea stood solemnly around Beth’s bedside, watching as she lay motionless, her breathing shallow.
Andrea exhaled sharply, crossing her arms. “We need Hershel,” she muttered.
Lori glanced at her, then at Carl standing in the living room “Can you watch him for me?” she asked.
Andrea nodded, then frowned slightly. “Why not Harry?”
Lori didn’t answer. She hesitated for only a moment before turning and walking out the door. Andrea scoffed, shaking her head. “You can’t blame him for the barn.”
But Lori was already gone.
She walked with quick, determined steps until she spotted Daryl sitting in a field, sharpening his knife with slow, practiced movements.
Lori stopped a few feet away. “We need you to go get Hershel and Rick,” she said “Bring them back.”
Daryl didn’t even look up. “Fetch ’em yourself.”
Lori’s frustration flared. “How can you be so selfish?” she demanded.
Daryl scoffed, shaking his head as he finally met her eyes. “Listen, Olive Oyl,” he said, his tone sharp. “I was out there every damn day looking for Travis. Took a bullet, took an arrow, and for what? He was in that barn the whole time.”
His voice hardened as he turned back to his knife. “I’m done looking for people.”
Lori stared at him before, she turned and walked away.
Town
Rick stepped into the dimly lit bar, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Hershel, hunched over the counter, a near-empty glass in front of him.
“Hershel,” Rick called.
The older man didn’t turn, just exhaled slowly. “Who’s with you?” he asked.
“Glenn,” Rick answered.
Hershel let out a low hum, finally glancing up. “Maggie send him?” he asked.
Rick shook his head. “No. He volunteered. He’s good like that.”
Glenn nodded silently, watching the exchange.
Rick stepped closer, leaning against the bar. “How many have you had?”
Hershel chuckled bitterly. “Not enough.”
Rick sighed. “You can finish at home.” He hesitated, his voice softer now. “Beth collapsed. She’s in some kind of state—shock, maybe. And I think you might be, too.”
Hershel stiffened slightly. “Maggie—she’s with her?”
Rick nodded. “Yeah.”
Hershel closed his eyes for a moment before rubbing a hand over his face. “She needs her mother,” he muttered. “Or she needed time to grieve.” He exhaled sharply. “And I denied her that. I robbed them of that. I see that now.”
Rick was quiet for a beat before finally speaking. “You thought there was a cure,” he said. “You can’t blame yourself for hoping.”
Hershel scoffed, shaking his head. “When I saw you carrying your son that first time…” He swallowed hard. “I had little hope he would survive.”
Rick nodded. “He did.”
Hershel let out a slow breath, his gaze distant. “And that proved to me that miracles existed,” he said. “Only for it to be a sham.” He shook his head. “I was a fool. And your group saw that.”
His voice lowered, regret laced in every syllable. “My daughter deserve better than me.”
Farm
Lori stepped out of the house, checking the revolver, making sure it was loaded. Not this time.
She climbed into the car, the engine rumbling to life as she pulled away from the farm, her mind set on finding Rick, Glenn, and Hershel.
As she drove, she unfolded a map, glancing down briefly to track the quickest route.
She never saw the walker.
Not until it was too late.
The dull thud of impact jolted her back to reality as the creature hit the front of the car. Her hands jerked the wheel, but she lost control instantly.
The tires skidded against the gravel.
Then the world flipped.
Town
Hershel pushed back his chair, the scrape of wood against the floor sharp in the quiet bar. He turned toward Rick “You’re leaving,” he said firmly.
Rick stood his ground. “I promised to take you home.”
Hershel scoffed, shaking his head. “Like you promised your group you’d bring that teenager back safely?” His tone was bitter, cutting deep. “Stop telling me how to care for my family. My farm.”
His voice rose, anger slipping through the cracks of his composure. “I brought you all in like a good Christian, and you destroyed it all!”
Rick’s jaw tightened. “The world was in bad shape before we met Hershel,” he said.
Hershel pointed a finger at him. “And you take no responsibility for it!”
Rick took a step forward, matching his energy. “I’m here now!”
Hershel let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “Yeah. You are.”
Without another word, he moved toward the door, his shoulders stiff with exhaustion and resignation. Rick followed him, his tone softer this time. “Your daughters need you.”
Hershel paused for a brief moment, his expression clouded. “I didn’t want to believe you,” he muttered. “That there was no cure. That these people were dead, not sick.” He inhaled deeply, his voice quieter now, heavier. “I chose not to believe it until Shane shot Lou—and she kept coming. That’s when I knew.”
He let out a bitter chuckle, hollow and empty. “I’ve been an ass,” he admitted. “My wife and children… they were dead long ago. And I was feeding their corpses.” His voice broke slightly, but he steadied himself. “There was never any hope.”
He exhaled slowly, as if forcing himself to accept the truth. “And when that boy came out of the barn… you knew, didn’t you?”
Rick’s silence was his only answer.
Hershel nodded “I know it now, too. There’s no hope for anyone.”
Rick leaned against the bar, his voice steady but sharp. “I’m done cleaning up after you, Hershel. Nothing’s changed. Death is death—it’s always been there. Whether it’s a heart attack, cancer, or a walker, there’s no difference.”
Hershel scoffed, taking another drink. “You think I didn’t believe there wasn’t hope before?”
Rick’s gaze hardened. “The people at camp need us. This isn’t about what we believe anymore. It’s about them.”
Hershel didn’t respond, just stared into his glass, the weight of Rick’s words settling over him. Before either could say more, the door creaked open, drawing their attention. Two men walked in, their eyes scanning the room as they stepped inside.
The taller one spoke first, his tone casual but guarded. “Name’s Dave,” he said, nodding toward his companion. “And this here’s Tony. We met leaving Philly. Hell of a shitshow.”
Rick poured him a drink as Dave sat down “Rick,” he said, introducing himself. Glenn followed suit, offering a small nod. “Glenn. Glad to meet other people.”
Dave glanced at Hershel, raising an eyebrow. “You want one?” he asked, gesturing to the drink.
Hershel shook his head. “Just quit.”
Dave chuckled. “Picked a hell of a time for that.”
Rick’s voice cut in, calm but firm. “Hershel lost a lot of people today.”
Dave’s expression softened slightly. “Sorry to hear that,” he said, pulling a pistol from his waistband and placing it on the bar. “Took this off a dead cop. Hope they’re in a better place.”
Rick’s eyes flicked to the weapon before meeting Dave’s gaze. “What brought you down south?”
Dave shrugged. “Heard there was a camp in D.C., but we never got close. Every group we find’s got a new rumor about how to get out of this mess.”
Tony chimed in, his voice gruff. “Some guy said the Coast Guard’s sending ferries to the islands. Latest one’s about a railway to Nebraska from Montgomery. Low population, lots of guns.” He turned to Glenn. “You ever see Nebraska?”
Dave leaned forward slightly. “What about you guys?”
Rick’s tone was measured. “We’re heading to Fort Benning.”
Dave let out a low chuckle. “A grunt told me Benning’s gone.”
Glenn’s eyes widened. “For real?”
Dave nodded. “Yeah. There’s no way out of this mess.”
His gaze shifted, studying them carefully. “You got a camp out there?”
Rick shook his head. “No.”
Dave’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s your gear, then?”
Hershel spoke up, his voice steady. “We’re part of a bigger group. Thought we’d stop for a drink.”
Dave smirked. “Thought you quit,” he said “Figured you’d set up camp around here. Safe?”
Glenn shrugged. “Killed a couple walkers around here.”
Dave raised an eyebrow. “That what you call ’em?”
“Trailer park? Estate? Farm?”
No one answered.
Tony, clearly agitated, unzipped his pants and pissed on the floor, his voice sharp. “Is it safe?”
Rick’s voice cut through the tension. “We’ve said enough.”
Dave and Tony exchanged a glance before Dave grinned. “Farm sounds sweet. We could share resources.”
Rick’s tone turned cold. “That wouldn’t work. Heard Nebraska’s fine, you should head there.”
Tony’s grin twisted into a sneer. “Or we shoot you in the head and take the farm.”
Dave raised a hand, his voice calm. “Everyone relax. No one’s getting shot.”
Rick’s hand moved toward his revolver. “You can’t go to the farm.”
Dave’s expression hardened. “And you can’t keep us from the farm.”
As Dave reached for his pistol, Rick didn’t hesitate. The gunshot echoed through the bar, followed by another as Tony fell beside him.
Glenn stared in shock, his breath catching as Rick stepped forward, ensuring both men were dead.