"Okay, we've either got to go in there, we've got to make things right, or we've just got to go. Now! We've been talking about Fort Benning for a long time."

"We can't go, Shane!"

"Why, Rick, why?"

"Because my daughter is still out there!" Carol interrupts.

"I think it's time to consider the other possibility."

"We are not leaving Sophia behind!"

"I'm close to finding this girl. I just found her damn doll two days ago."

"You found her doll, Daryl! That's what you did. You found a doll."

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

"I'm just saying what needs to be said. You get a good lead, it's in the first 48 hours! Let me tell you something else, man. If she was alive out there and saw you coming all methed out with your buck knife and geek ears around your neck, she would run in the other direction."


The fight from earlier today keeps replaying in my mind. There are walkers in the barn – Glenn said it and Shane went to check. It's true, the barn is crawling with walkers. Shane wants to leave immediately, but Rick wants to stay; says he can talk to Hershel. I know why he wants to stay. Lori is pregnant – they need this. But I cannot help but agree with the other side too. This is dangerous.

The discussion in the morning did not lead to anything. Everyone is shaken up by the news and no one really knows what to do about it. Throughout the day I can see Rick trying to talk to Hershel, Glenn trying to talk to Maggie – apologizing? – but who I keep my eye on is Shane. He is impulsive and I can image him doing something stupid before long. I feel paralyzed. I feel this situation is not going to end well, yet I don't know what to do – I don't know how to stop it.

I have barely finished that thought when I see Shane heading back toward the barn and react on impulse.

"Shane!" I shout and run after him. He ignores me and continues walking.

"Shane, stop it!" I say again and run past him to put myself in between him and the barn. "Can we have a grown-up conversation before you do something stupid?"

"What?!" he asks heatedly. "These people keep a barn full of geeks and I am the one being stupid?"

"I never said the barn was a great idea, I am just saying this isn't your decision to make. This isn't our land."

"Get out of my way!" He takes a few steps forward and I retreat to keep the space between us.

"Shane, come on. If you fuck up now we all have to leave. We have to find a solution that doesn't involve you stalking off and ruining this for us."

He does not respond immediately but I can see that I hit a nerve – he looks pissed. He keeps stalking towards me slowly, and I keep retreating until I hit the barn door with my back and cannot move away from him any further. Shane continues until he is standing right in front of me, his forehead so close that it almost hits mine. I can feel his hot breath on my face and see the anger in his dark eyes.

"You don't tell me what to do," he says quietly but threateningly, like a predator warning his prey. "I kept us safe this whole time, and I will not risk anything because these people decide to keep walkers as pets. I don't give a shit if I am pissing people off in the process. This isn't a democracy anymore. I will do what I have to do to keep us safe!"

He stares me dead in the eyes for a while before turning on his heels and walking back towards the house. Finally, I release the breath that I have been holding since he invaded my personal space. I cannot help but think that I have just made it worse.


I am pretty upset about my conversation with Shane, so when I see Rick walking into the woods with Hershel, I decide to take that opportunity to talk to Maggie, trying to persuade the other side. I jog over to the house and walk in carefully. "Maggie?"

"What?!" – I can hear her say from the the kitchen.

I walk over to where she is. She is wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt, and her face is stern, her eyes narrow. She looks pissed as well. "Hey, I know you're mad," I start, carefully.

"You don't know anything!"

"Maggie, stop! This isn't my fault. There are walkers in the barn, Glenn found out and he told us. I don't know what exactly went on between you two before that, but it doesn't matter. They're dangerous! I don't know if you realize just how dangerous they are! Glenn didn't tell us because he doesn't respect you – he told us because he is worried. He is worried about you, he is worried about all of us, because he knows what they can do. It doesn't matter if they are still human or not, and right now it also doesn't matter if you're mad at us or at Glenn – because if we want to stop this from getting any worse we have got to try to calm Shane down. He is livid and I don't know what he'll do, but I do know that it won't be good – for any of us. We have got to stop him before he does something stupid."

"It isn't my responsibility to take care of your people. If Shane does something stupid, Dad will kick you all out of here," she simply says, her tone of voice cold and indifferent, and walks past me. I can hear her leaving the house and I am left alone in the kitchen, dumbfounded. This wasn't the Maggie I started to get to know over these past few weeks. I wonder if her mother is in that barn, and if that is the reason she is so mad. When I hear a commotion on the porch, I quickly head out after my friend.

"What's all this?" is the first thing I hear.
"You with me man?" Shane asks, throwing a gun to Daryl as he nods. "Time to grow up."

Our one condition of being allowed to stay on the farm was to not use guns, except for the shooting lessons, yet here Shane is, handing them out like candy on Halloween.

"What are you doing, Shane?" I ask, even though it is evident. Shane ignores me and continues to hand out guns.

"Can you stop? You do this, you hand out these guns, my dad will make you leave tonight," Maggie interferes tensely.

Lori adds: "We have to stay, Shane!"

He seems out of control. I am trying to figure out how to stop him, how to stop the impending doom, but I come up short. He seems so mad he almost frightens me. That's when I see four figures moving out of the forest. The others noticed it too.

"What is this?!" Shane shouts, livid. When they get nearer I can see it is Rick and Hershel, heading toward the barn, both of them leading walkers on snare poles in front of them. I curse under my breath.

Shane drops the extra guns he was carrying and starts running toward them like a maniac. I quickly pick up one of the shotguns he dropped and join the rest in sprinting after him.

"You see what they're holding onto?!" Shane shouts at us while running.

"I can see who I'm holding onto," Hershel responds simply.

"No man, you don't!"

"Shane, just let us do this and then we can talk," Rick pleads with him, but Shane won't have any of it.

"What do you want to talk about, Rick? These things ain't sick. They're not people. They're dead! Hershel – man, let me ask you something. Could a living, breathing person…could they walk away from this?"

And that is when Shane shoots the walker Hershel is holding in the chest. Three times. I start feeling nauseous.

"That's three rounds in the chest," Shane continues. "Could someone who is alive…could they just take that? Why is it still coming?

He continues to shoot it. The walker is still moving, trying to get at him.

"That's heart and lungs. Why is it still coming?"

He shoots it again.

"Shane, enough!" Rick screams.

"Yeah that's right, it's enough!" Shane says, and then lifts his gun up one more time and shoots the walker in the head – causing it to drop down to the ground. Time seems to slow down. I can hear Maggie screaming and I see the petrified look on Hershel's face.

But still, Shane goes on. "Enough risking our lives for a little girl who's gone! Enough living next to a barn full of things that are trying to kill us! Enough! Rick, it ain't like it was before! Now, if y'all want to live, if you want to survive, you got to fight for it! I'm talking about fighting right here, right now!"

Shane now starts walking towards the barn in a fast pace and I immediately know what he is about to do. Rick apparently knows it too, because he is shouting at Shane to stop, while begging Hershel to take the snare-pole he is holding from him so he can go after Shane. But Hershel is too petrified to move. So all of us just stand there frozen in shock, watching Shane take an axe and breaking the lock to the barn door. Time seems to take up its normal speed when the walkers start pouring out of the opened doors. Shane starts shooting; and Andrea, T-Dogg and Daryl line up next to him, talking on the mass of biters coming out of the barn. There are dozens and dozens, a herd of undead, snarling, wanting fresh meat.

I know that I have to act too, there are too many of them. "Sorry, Maggie!" I tell her as I run past her while she is clinging onto her dad, crying. I get in line with the others and start shooting the walkers. Eventually even Glenn joins us. The massacre seems to be going on and on, until it eventually dies out. We lower our guns and I look over to my left, where Shane, T-Dogg and Daryl are standing. They are breathing heavily, but they keep their eyes locked on the barn doors, not convinced that it is over.

It turns out they are right. All of a sudden, we can hear one more walker approaching the barn door, shuffling and snarling. We all get ready, but when it steps out into the daylight, all of us are frozen in shock.

Exiting the barn is poor, sweet little Sophia, with a gaping wound on her neck. Her skin has turned grey and her eyes are milky, and she looks at us with no recognition, only hunger. So she is dead, I think to myself.

"Sophia? Sophia!" I can hear Carol sobbing immediately. She is trying to run towards her daughter, but Daryl stops her at the last minute. They both drop to the ground, Daryl is holding Carol while she sobs. It is almost too painful to watch. Meanwhile Sophia is still approaching us, grunting and moaning, hungry for flesh. I know I should do something but I can't move.

Rick steps up. He slowly walks towards the barn and it seems like he is the only person moving in the world. He looks like he is in pain, his eyes are sad and his mouth is in a straight line. When he is close to the little girl, he raises his gun while Sophia looks up at him expectantly. I swallow hard as he shoots her between the eyes. Sophia's dead body drops to the ground and the only sound we can hear is Carol crying.


The situation at the barn dissolved itself when everyone went their way to deal with what just happened. Most of them ran after Hershel and his family, trying to talk to him, about what this means for us staying, I assume. I, however, feel uncomfortable tagging along, feeling like I just intruded on an intimate moment. I have been with them for a long time, yet somehow in times of crisis I still feel like I do not belong – which may just be my way of avoiding to face it. So instead of following everyone, talking about what happened or consoling people that have lost loved ones, I do the only thing I can think of: start digging. Because if I know one thing, then it is that everyone will want to give a proper funeral to those they loved. I grab a shovel, put my hair up in a bun, and start digging up graves along the tree line. The sun is high up and sweat is running down my face almost immediately, but I do not let myself be bothered by it, and instead continue to dig up earth and throw it on a pile. I do not know how long I've been at it when Rick comes over.

"Glenn told me you were here."

"I assumed most of us wanted a real funeral for Sophia, for Maggie's step-mother…I thought I just go ahead and start digging."

"How long have you been at it? You look worn out."

"I don't know, Rick. Honestly, I just wanna get this done. Feels like the only helpful thing for me to do at the moment," I pause for a moment and realize that tears started welling up in my eyes. "Shit. I'm sorry. The last weeks, well months if I'm honest, have been a little much."

I wipe my face on my shirt and am immediately ashamed of crying about this. I have always hated how emotional I could get sometimes. The last thing I want to do is drag the spotlight on me unintentionally just because I cannot manage to hold back some tears. When I do not get an answer from Rick I allow myself to look over to where he is standing. He just gives me a nod. But when I look closely I notice he looks exhausted. His eyes are sad and more wrinkled than usual – like he is carrying the weight of the world.

"You look like you've gotten a lot of heat from everyone," I start carefully.

"Well, apparently no one is happy with how I handled the situation. Or basically everything that happened, for that matter."

I scan him for a moment before answering, my heart going out to him.

"Rick, what is happening right now, how people are acting towards you…that's not because you failed us. I don't know if you realize this, but these people…we…we look to you as our leader. Yes, that means you will get shit from time to time, like today, but that just means you are doing your job. You are accepting the burden even if you don't want to. In situations like this, people are scared; they are looking for someone to make their decisions for them. Yes, everyone is upset about what happened, but you still have their respect. They still look to you for answers. They're just scared. We all are. You just need to keep leading. It's part of the deal."

The expression on his face changes. He doesn't look sad anymore, now he looks torn. He is torn about being a leader – he likes and dislikes it at the same time. He gives me a nod and turns around to leave. I focus my attention back on digging the graves when I hear him call out my name.

"Zoey," I turn around and see that he has stopped in his tracks and faces me.

"In case you didn't realize it yet," he starts. "You're family." Then he turns around and leaves. I continue my task at hand, feeling grateful. Grateful for Rick understanding me. Grateful that I went against my better judgement on that day in Atlanta, when I reached out to them and helped them get out of town.


I finish about three graves when I am completely exhausted and decide to head back to the house. The sun is still high in the sky, so I couldn't have been at it for more than three hours. Damn, Blake. You really need to work on your cardio, I think to myself as I swing the shovel over my shoulder and start walking. When I get close I can see Maggie coming out of the house, looking worried.

"Maggie, what's going on?"

"It's Beth. She broke down, but we can't find Dad, so Glenn and Rick are going into town to look for him," she tells me while brushing past me, clearly looking for someone. It does not take much to realize she is trying to find Glenn.

"I'll go with them," I state simply and she turns around to look at me, surprised.

"Power in numbers, you know," I try to sound nonchalant. "Don't worry, he'll get back to you. Just see it as an apology for me going off at you before. You were clearly upset and I had no right to get into your business, let alone make you feel bad for how you reacted."

"Zoey," she starts, but I cut her off by hugging her.

"Beth will be okay, your Dad will be okay, and Glenn will be okay, understand?" I smile at her and head towards the cars before she can answer, afraid she would disagree.

When I approach the cars I can see Glenn and Rick already getting in the small Ford, making ready to drive into town.

"I'll join you," I shout and can immediately see both of them disapproving. There are more people watching the scene, so I quickly step closer and try to explain more silently before they can disagree out loud.

"Please, I told Maggie I'll join to make sure you are coming back, but to be honest…I just need to get out for a moment. The atmosphere here is crushing me. Please." I look at both of them pleadingly, knowing I should not be going, taken into account how exhausted I am, but all the well knowing I am right with power in numbers. Plus, I am a good shot. I mean, how bad can it get?

Rick and Glenn look at each other, and after a while Rick turns to me and rolls his eyes. "Alright." I can see that he is not completely happy with his decision, so before he can change his mind I quickly jog back to camp to gather my gun and my machete. I am still wearing my dark grey jeans and a black t-shirt, and I leave my jacket behind because I am still so warm from all the exercise. I am just about to hurry back to the car when I stop in my tracks, turn around to grab my knife, hide it in my boot, and then make my way back towards my friends.


Just as Rick expected, we find Hershel in the bar in town. Glenn and I look at each other, and apparently wordlessly decide to let Rick take the lead, for we both step back towards the window watching the street, while Rick tries to convince Hershel to come back to the farm. Since it is just the four of us in the bar, it is extremely hard not to listen in on them, and my heart breaks for Hershel when I can hear him saying that he failed his daughters, that he is a fool, and that his family would do well without him.

I am so immersed in his story that I completely lose track of checking the street, as apparently Glenn did too, because all of us are taken aback when the door opens and two men enter the bar.

"Son of a bitch! They are alive," one of them exclaims as they both make their way into the big room. The speaker is averaged sized and skinny, the other one bigger in both height and width, wearing a baseball cap. Even though they introduce themselves and the skinny one does a lot of talking, the atmosphere is tense. I can see Rick reach to his holster when the talkative man reaches into his pocket. Apparently he noticed it too, because he slowly takes a gun out of his pocket and puts it on the table. "Not bad, huh? I got it off a cop," he says, smirking, gesturing towards his gun.

"I'm a cop," Rick simply replies.

The new arrivals play it cool. They take out some alcohol and we all toast to lost companions and the end of the world. We only had two shots of tequila, but I already feel it getting to my head. This is not good. I am grateful Rick is here to do all the talking. I can hear them talk about where they came from, what stories they heard, while I concentrate on not letting the alcohol cloud my judgement. I snap out of my concentration when I can hear the new arrivals asking to join us on our farm. The mood in the room changes perceptibly and I shoot Rick a look. He eyes the skinny guy hard, and eventually tells him that that is not going to happen. The only problem is that the two men are not letting go that easily. The big guy gets angry, peeing in a corner while swearing to himself; while the skinny guy tries to charm Rick into letting them into our camp.

I slowly place my hand on my gun as the discussion continues. The skinny man walks behind the bar, and I can see Rick tensing as well, both of us thinking he's going for his gun, when the man puts more alcohol on the counter. Just as I think the situation is clear, in a quick movement the skinny man pulls a shotgun out from under the bar and points it at Rick; but Rick is faster and shoots him in the chest before the skinny man can pull his trigger. Rick then turns around to the bigger man, who is aiming his shotgun at Rick, but before Rick can pull the trigger the big man drops dead from a gunshot to his right temple. Rick looks around the room and his eyes stop when they see me, holding my gun up in both hands, aiming at the man who just fell dead to the ground.

"We have to get out of here," I say, lowering my gun. I am feeling nauseous – not just because I had two tequila shots on an empty stomach, but because I just killed a living man. I have made my peace with killing walkers, but killing someone who is alive, who is breathing, is something entirely different.

Rick agrees and moves toward the door when we hear a car approaching. "Get down!" he shouts at us.

I move to sit down against the wall beneath the window, and we can hear the car stopping and people emerging.

"Dave? Tony? They said over here?"

"I'm telling you, man, I heard shots," we can hear the men saying. They must have been friends with the two men we just killed, and we can hear them spread out to look for them. We all sit tentatively for a while, but it seems like they are far enough from the bar, and when we cannot hear them anymore I am starting to get impatient.

"Hey," I whisper over to my friends. "We should leave through the back door while they are still split up."

Rick nods and we are just moving to get up when we can hear the voices coming back. "We're looking for Dave and Tony and no one checks the damn bar?" One of them says and I can clearly hear footsteps approaching the door. In the same instant, the man from outside tries to open the door and Glenn reacts quickly and moves in front of it, so it immediately shuts again. I look from Glenn over to Hershel, and I can see the anxiety written on both of their faces. The man from outside keeps shouting if someone is in here, and after a long silence from our side, Rick finally answers him, saying that his friends are dead and that we did not have a choice. Glenn cringes when Rick answers; and we all wait out the silence, expecting the worst.

Without giving an answer the men from outside open fire at the door. Shit, shit, shit. I quickly move to push my upper body down to the floor and cover my head with my arms. After a moment the shooting stops and we are back in utter silence. I allow myself to sit back up, and my friends look just as apprehensive as I feel. They can't just be gone, I think to myself just as there is a noise coming from the back of the bar. Glenn acts quickest and is up on his feet, disappearing into the back to check on the noise. Rick and I exchange a nervous look, and all of a sudden there are gunshots. "GLENN?!" Rick yells, but Glenn quickly answers: "I'm okay."

We need to get out of here, I think and quickly make up a plan in my head. "Rick," I whisper. "I'm going to go out back and get the car, Hershel or Glenn can cover me. I'll drive up front and we'll get out of here."

I can see the protest in Rick's eyes, but before he can say anything I add: "I'm the smallest, hence the hardest target to hit." Then I get up and hurry toward the back without waiting for his answer. Glenn is standing near the exit. I quickly explain my plan to him and tentatively open the door. I can feel my heart hammering in my chest; my hands would be shaking if I would not be holding on to my gun so tightly. Don't think –just run. I stop worrying and step out of the backdoor into a small alley, keeping close to the wall. The sky is dark by now, the cover of night has fallen while we talked to Hershel inside the bar. I cautiously move to the end of the back alley and tentatively look out into the street. It is deserted but for our car. I cannot see any shooters, nor is anyone opening fire at me. Even though it seems strange I try to push my worries away and slowly make my way to the car. When I am close to it I quickly turn around to Glenn who is covering me, signaling him that I am about to reach the car and that he should let the others know we are about to take off. I can see Glenn turning around and going back inside, and I have just turned to open the car door when I can feel strong hands grabbing me from behind.

I am immediately trying to kick and to free myself from the grasp, but it is hopeless. The man has a grip on me that is too tight.

"NO! LET GO OF ME!" I shout and try desperately to free myself, but all knowledge of self-defense seems to have escaped my memory.

"Come on, James, quickly!" I can hear the man behind me shouting, and all of a sudden there is a second man next to me. He is tall and has dark eyes, and he is holding a cloth that he quickly and mercilessly stuffs into my mouth and then ties at the back of my head. My screams are now effectively turned into muffles. I am thrashing around me as good as I can, but it is a lost cause. The man is holding on to me to tight, and the second man has grabbed my legs.

I can see a pickup approaching from down the road. It comes to a screeching halt next to us and the man named James lets go of my legs, picks up a rope from the loading area, uses it to tie my hands and then the two of them maneuver me onto the back of the car. I am trying to fight them as good as I can, but gagged and tied up there is not much I can do. My gun fell when the first man attacked me, and they were quick to take my machete as well. The only thing left is the knife in my boot which I hope they don't find. I try to think clearly but panic is clouding my judgement.

As soon as I am secured on the back of the pickup, the men start shouting for someone named Randall. Immediately, a boy appears on the roof of one of the houses next to the pickup. He starts to panic when he sees that his friends are about to leave so he jumps off the roof, but falls and hurts himself. I expect the men to run to help him, but instead the pickup truck drives off just as Glenn and the others are emerging out of the bar. I lock eyes with Rick for a moment, and his eyes reflect the horror that I am sure is visible in mine.

They are taking me.

I can hear him shouting my name, can see him and Glenn shoot at the trucks' tires to stop my abduction, but it is too late – the pickup turns a corner and my friends are out of sight. That is when I feel a sharp pain on the back of my head and the world around me turns black.