They walked for two more days, rarely speaking amongst themselves. Maggie remembered where they were heading, which was nowhere in particular. West, just west. The plan was to head through Alabama, then Mississippi, and Arkansas; to make their way to parts of the country less inhabited by both walkers and survivors. At some point amidst their sudden departure from the hospital and Atlanta, Glenn and Abraham had explained the Washington D.C. trip to Rick. He'd let Eugene stay, which was more than many of the group had expected from him. But there'd been no more talk of D.C. or any possibility of hope in that part of the country. Instead, he'd led them the opposite direction, to open country he hoped would allow them to live in some semblance of peace.
Maggie stuck mostly with Michonne, though Glenn was always a close distance. Michonne's silent strength gave her comfort, while Glenn's presence only made her feel pitiful. She hadn't wanted him to see that side of her ever again, not after the incidence with the Governor, when she'd wanted to fall asleep and never wake up again. Maggie had admittedly always been a control freak, and this lifestyle didn't exactly accommodate that anymore. While Beth had always been sweet and gracious, she was more likely to fly into a rage when things didn't go her way. She'd always felt she was a force to be reckoned with; but now she just wondered if she was a loose cannon waiting to go off at any moment.
Tara stuck around with Glenn though, for which Maggie was intensely grateful. She didn't want to hurt him. She just needed time alone to heal. He could never understand how she felt. His family was likely dead too. But he hadn't had to see it actually happen. Maggie had completely blocked out her father's death. Any time it crept too close to the sunlight, she immediately wanted to vomit. She just had to forget it no matter what. Beth was different though. Seeing Daryl carrying her, she looked just like a doll. So fragile, yet completely intact. Maggie hadn't been certain at first what she was seeing. Her first thought was that Beth was simply unconscious. But then she saw Daryl's face, and she knew. She'd known right away.
She looked for Daryl and saw him walking ahead with Rick and Carol. He was different, walking with his shoulders slumped, barely looking up from the ground, even when Carol spoke to him gently. He looked weaker somehow. She knew he was the only one feeling even an iota of the pain she was feeling now. But she wasn't sure if she wanted to speak with him or not. As much as Beth was her own flesh and blood, Daryl's loss seemed so much more private. It made her curious what had happened between the two of them before Terminus, and curiosity was about as positive of a feeling as she was getting these days. She knew in her old life, the thought of her young sister with a man as old as Daryl would have disgusted her. But she could reconcile it with herself now, if it meant that her sister had had some sort of happiness being with him. They were all old now anyway.
She kept putting one foot in front of the other. Michonne looked over at her and smiled. Carl came up beside them too, giving Maggie an uncertain, yet hopeful glance under the brim of his Dad's hat. She couldn't help herself, the kid was trying; and he'd certainly cared for her sister too. She half-smiled back, for probably the first time since before the hospital, and Carl gave her a surprised all-out grin in response. He started to speak, but all of a sudden, he stopped; and Maggie realized she couldn't hear what he had been saying in the first place. His eyes went up to the sky, and she saw the eyes of all the others do the same. And then the strangest realization of her life occurred when she recognized the thunderous, droning noise from above as part of a world she had thought she'd never see again, so much so that it appeared as some fantastical flying creature. Passing just above the tree-line over their heads, much too close for comfort, was the bullet-shaped body of a Boeing-747, wings outspread like a dove's.