MILTON

He had been examining the stitches in his neck when he heard the screams from beyond the wall. Milton ran up the ramp, snatching up a pistol from the weapons rack as he went, and at the top, he noticed that no one was on duty. It was only three-o-nine, which meant that there should not yet be a switch-out. Why the wall was left unattended, Milton didn't know, but he knew he had to take up the duties of whoever was supposed to be there.

The screaming he had heard was coming from directly below and he leaned out over the edge of the wall to see at least twelve biters grappling with two men and not just two random men, but members of the latest scavenging party whose delayed return had been noted. CJ and Lance had been part of that four-man team, but they were the only two who had made it back—and were about to be eaten alive. Lance had managed to keep the biters back by ramming his rifle into their faces, but as soon as he put one down, another would get back up. CJ was bleeding from what looked like a bite mark to his ankle and trying to keep the biter from finishing off the rest of him.

Milton pointed his pistol at the biter on CJ, but the haze of the sweltering heat made it difficult to make out his target. His grip was unsteady on his weapon and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He fired and hit the biter—only his inexperienced shot went straight through the biter's decomposing skull and struck CJ in the calf.

CJ screamed and Milton looked down at what he'd done in horror. His first instinct was to apologize, but he realized that now was not the time. He turned his aim to a biter further away from the men and shot twice, missing both times. Blinking sweat out of his eyes, he fired a third time and was rewarded with the biter dropping lifelessly to its knees. Caught up in his premature celebration and pleasant surprise that he'd hit his target, he was unprepared for what came next.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing on the wall?"

Taken by surprise, Milton fumbled with his pistol and as he tried to maintain his grip on it, he overstepped and felt himself free falling. He saw the ground below rise up to meet him and landed hard on his back. The pain traveled from his tailbone up to the base of his spine, making him dizzy and temporarily blind to his surroundings as the shockwave registered in his brain. As he went to sit up, he saw the mottled face of a biter closing in on him and heard himself cry out before it was on him. Milton put one hand to the biter's throat to hold back its chomping teeth while trying to keep its fingernails from scratching him.

He reached sideways for something—anything—that might help him and his fingers found something warm and metallic. There couldn't be hesitation this time; he brought the pistol up to the biter's mouth, stuck it between the two rows of rotted, blood-stained teeth, and fired. Rotting flesh and old blood rained down on him and he clasped his mouth shut as flecks of blood sprinkled onto his glasses. He tried to push the biter off of him and saw another descending on him.

The biter didn't make it to him as a bullet took out its eye and as Milton went to wipe his glasses free of grime, he felt someone lugging him to his feet by the front of his shirt.

"Shoot, dammit!" Merle shouted at him as he pushed his way toward CJ and Lance.

Milton fired at the back of a biter's head, but his bullet just chipped off a bit of the skull and only alerted the biter to his presence. Backed into the wall, Milton panicked and let off four rounds into the biter's face. He saw Merle sweeping through the remaining biters, punching some in the head with his blade while simultaneously firing his pistol. It was then that Milton heard CJ's screams rent the air. A biter tore into CJ's face, ripping off half of his cheek in one bite so that CJ's teeth and gums were exposed. Before the biter could take any more of CJ with it, Merle shoved the biter face-first into the gate and its skull caved in on itself.

The gate opened moments later and a handful of guards including Guerrero, Elliot, and Tate accompanied Phillip out to assist in taking out the biters, but Merle and Lance had finished off the rest of them. Phillip saw Milton standing off to the side with his pistol held loosely in his hand and went to him. He put a hand on Milton's shoulder and used the other to make Milton look him in the eye.

"Milton, lookit me. Are you okay?" Phillip's voice seemed to be coming through a blocked-off funnel.

"What?" Milton heard himself say.

"Are—you—okay?"

Milton attempted to say "yes", but instead of words, he felt something else coming up his throat and turned his head away from Phillip to vomit into the grass. The bile clung to the inside of his mouth and the stench only amplified the assault on his senses so that with another heave, he emptied the contents of his stomach.

"Get him inside," Phillip told one of the guards and Tate came to escort Milton back inside the gate, but Milton waved him off.

"I'm okay," he murmured.

"What happened?" Phillip asked.

"Hell'f I know," said Merle. "I was out on my rounds. Got back an' this shit was goin' down. Weren't nobody on the wall 'cept Miltie an' he done fell off. Killed a biter or two, but he wasn't much use after he fell."

"They came out of nowhere," panted Lance who was covered in the blood of his kills. "We were coming up on the gate and they swarmed us. We saw someone on the gate, but then they disappeared and we couldn't hold them off."

Phillip knelt down beside CJ who was convulsing on the ground, bitten in several places. He took CJ's hand and without looking up, posed a question to Lance.

"What happened to Ollie and Ray?"

Lance tried to speak, but the sight of CJ silenced him.

"Should we take him inside or finish it out here?" asked Guerrero.

Phillip kept his eyes on CJ and said, "Merle," while commanding CJ's attention. CJ's gaze never left Phillip as Merle took a knee on his other side and stuck his blade into CJ's temple. All at once, the shaking throughout CJ's body ceased and Phillip laid CJ's hand back down.

Milton pushed Tate out of the way and hurled again, splattering some of the gate in his puke.

"Merle, you'n Guerrero go tell Janine, Wade, and the kids about this and I'll get someone t'clean him up before we bury him," Phillip told Merle. "Lance, let's get you cleaned off and then you can make your report."

They all began to move into the town when Guerrero pulled the procession to a halt. "A report might have to wait, dude. Look there…" He pointed to the back of Lance's neck and Milton saw blood creeping up from under Lance's collar. Phillip pulled the collar down out of the way to expose a bite mark across Lance's neck.

With a trembling hand, Lance reached back to feel the broken skin and turned to Phillip pleadingly. "Can I at least say goodbye to my family first?"

Phillip nodded and put his arm around Lance to guide him in. Milton went to follow, but Merle made a beckoning gesture with his forefinger and Milton's heart sank. Merle wanted Milton to accompany him to Janine's apartment to tell her that her brother was dead not because Milton had been there to see the biters swarm him, but because Milton was better than Merle or Guerrero with words when it came to this sort of thing. And that wasn't a comforting notion at all because Milton was the primary bad-news-bearer only because he could deliver the news in a flat, emotionless manner and it was believed that having someone with no expression deliver bad news would soften the blow. As if.

Milton trudged up the stairs to Janine and Wade's apartment, clutching the banister for support in case he felt the need to vomit again. Merle knocked and Janine's boyfriend Wade let them in. The apartment interior was well-kept and rather bare which was odd, considering the fact that two highly active children lived there, but the twins were sitting on the couch as if they'd just been scolded.

"What's up?" asked Wade once Milton, Merle, and Guerrero were inside. "And why're you covered in blood?"

"Where's Janine?" asked Merle, regarding Wade with disgust for some reason.

"She's got a headache; she's laying down."

"Oh, I bet she is," said Merle. "She needs to hear this."

"I'll tell her—"

"No, y'won't."

"Hey, who the hell do you think you are, buddy? Coming into my house and making demands—"

"It's not your house, dude," Guerrero corrected. "It's CJ's and Janine's. And this is a matter that involves her more than you. Kids, go get your mom."

"Sit your asses back down," Wade snapped at Nathan and Nina who had begun to move toward their mom's room.

"Hey, don'tchoo talk t'them like they's your kids," said Merle. "Kids, go getcher mom, nevermind what this asshole says. Go on."

Wade looked like he wanted to punch Merle, but with Guerrero also there, he was outnumbered. Milton watched the mounting tension between the three of them, wondering what in the world was happening or had happened that he was unaware of, but before he could give the matter too much thought, Janine appeared with her jacket wrapped tightly around her. She stood in the doorway to her bedroom so that half of her face was hidden in shadow.

"Janine, we got some bad news," said Merle, glaring at her pointedly as if he was trying to send her a message.

Guerrero shot Merle a tactless look that clearly said, Dude, you suck at this.

Taking that as his cue to intervene and speak his part, Milton stepped up. "Janine, you might want to have a seat." He didn't have to say anything else because everyone in Woodbury knew that the news that followed those words meant that one of their loved ones was dead. And for the first time, Milton could sympathize with the receiver of this news because he had seen their loved one die, could have prevented it, maybe even caused it.

/ /

Merle went off to clean up after they left Janine in a fit of distraught sobs and Guerrero took the twins to his and Erica's shared apartment to spare them their mother's meltdown, leaving Milton to his own devices. Feeling unclean in the worst way possible, Milton returned to his own residence and after peeling off his blood-soaked clothes, he climbed into his shower, drew the curtain, turned the faucet on to the highest pressure, and sat down on the tub floor so that the blood could wash off of him. He used a washcloth to scrub at his face and hair, desperate to rid himself of the feeling of blood. The pre-set timer that he had fixed to warn him of when his three minute shower was nearly over went off and he ran his fingers through his hair to ensure that he'd washed everything out before turning off the showerhead.

As he allowed the humid air to naturally dry his hair, he started to dress in a fresh set of clothes and replayed the events at the wall in his head. Lance and CJ might have been saved if there had been a wall guard there, but there wasn't. Milton could find out who was supposed to have been there, but what good would come of scolding the culprits? This wasn't a lesson that could be taught by saying that "it better not happen next time" because Woodbury couldn't afford a next time. Two lives depended upon the disciplined duty of the wall guard and Woodbury's greatest defense had failed them, leaving those lives in Milton's unprepared hands. No one could say that he hadn't tried to help, but he didn't know the first thing about accuracy when shooting a gun and it was only by an insane amount of luck that he'd succeeded in hitting three different targets after wasting a handful of bullets in the first place. Then, the fact that he'd fallen off the wall after someone shouted at him so that Merle had to come to his aid instead of Lance and CJ's meant that both of them might have survived if Milton had just stayed off the wall.

Milton was cleaning the soap out of his ears when he heard a knock on the door and hastily pulled his socks on and combed back his hair to at least be partially presentable as he went to answer and saw Phillip standing on the threshold.

"How you holding up?" asked Phillip, inviting himself into Milton's room.

"I'm fine," said Milton. "Really, I'm perfectly alright. I'm not the one who was injured—or bitten, for that matter."

"No, but you got your first taste've battle in rushin' t'help Lance and CJ when there was no one on duty and for that, I'm proud've you. You showed a level've courage that I didn't know you had and you helped Lance hold out long enough to survive the initial attack and say goodbye to his family, and that's invaluable."

Milton shrugged. "I can't decide if the fault lies with me for not being a better shot or with the people who were supposed to be on the wall."

"You can't be blamed for savin' someone. You were there; the wall guard wasn't. Don't beat yourself up for doin' the right thing," said Phillip sternly. "But I do agree that you could learn how t'shoot better; Merle mentioned makin' you part've Woodbury's army."

"We both know that's an idea destined for disaster—"

"No, he's got a point. I'm not talkin' about sendin' you on runs or makin' you do the heavy liftin', but I do think it's time you learned how t'handle weapons properly. When there's women who can shoot better than you, that's just embarrassin'."

"No, it's not," said Milton, unabashed by this proclamation. "Erica and Andrea have the skills necessary to help them succeed in combat and it has nothing to do with them being women. Some people just aren't equipped for violence and I don't mind being one of those people."

Phillip laughed. "Try all you want, you're not gettin' outta this one so easily. You were still afraid of your own shadow when I met you four years ago, Milton, and look how far you've come. I couldn't get you to be in the same room as a needle this time last year, but you stepped up and insisted that Dr. Stephens teach you some first aid. Maybe you are afraid've nearly everythin' outside these walls, but you're also determined and you deserve more credit than you give yourself. I value that, and I want you t'be around a long time so I can keep valuin' that. That means you're gonna join Woodbury's army."

"But—"

"You wanna help Woodbury, don't you?"

"Yes, but in a way that would be more beneficial than just learning to shoot at the speed of light like Merle and Guerrero. This town needs more than sharpshooters; it needs a voice of reason and I am that voice. I'm committed to doing the right thing for the people, which means handling less pleasant issues like Crowley's alleged molestation of Andrea. You and I both know that he assaulted her and we shouldn't even be debating its legitimacy with Erica walking around with a broken nose. Crowley attacked both of them in an unprovoked manner and apocalypse or not, his behavior isn't tolerated by any civilization. That was one of the first rules you set for the people when we built the town: any form of rape or abuse would be met with severe punishment. Three witnesses, two of them victims, can attest to Crowley's actions, and he deserves to be locked up for what he did."

"But what Merle did in response isn't justified either."

Milton had a nearly unlimited amount of patience, but when it came to abuse, he wasn't even going to entertain the notion of leniency. He didn't care if Merle beat Crowley half to death; Merle could have killed Crowley and Milton wouldn't have cared. The fact that Crowley had put his hands on two women and was still being allowed to walk around freely was not only wrong; it was infuriating.

"Crowley will be locked up," Milton told Phillip firmly. "The town isn't going to suffer from having an abusive, ill-tempered man like that put away for an indefinite amount of time."

Phillip raised an eyebrow at Milton and Milton wondered if perhaps, he had stepped over the line in questioning Phillip's authority.

"You've taken this situation to heart, haven't you?"

"I believe in justice and I think that justice in this sense means letting Merle off with a warning that that sort of behavior won't be tolerated and confining Crowley on restricted rations just like an inmate in a prison facility would be."

"We don't have a prison, Milton."

"Then we improvise or we turn Crowley out of Woodbury. Any other man who committed those types of acts would be given a number of years behind bars, and if you aren't prepared to keep him locked up for years then we shouldn't waste any resources on him. Make him leave."

A scraggly voice came from Phillip's radio and he answered it. "Go for the Governor," he said.

"Lance is ready," came the voice of Fletcher.

"I'll be right there. We'll have to continue this conversation later, Milton."

"That's what you said yesterday. This needs to be addressed now. How can we claim to be part of a society trying to keep its grip on humanity if we let rapists roam the streets unpunished? Phillip, I know Crowley's one of your best fighters, but the man's a menace and I don't want him anywhere near other people."

Milton saw the flash of anger he'd seen before when he accused Phillip of using him to get to Michonne, but in an instant, it was gone, only to be replaced by a devilish grin that didn't make Milton feel any better at all.

"You've been talkin' with Andrea, haven't you?"

"I—no, not really," said Milton, caught off guard. "Nothing beyond the occasional hello."

"You're hooked on her, aren't you, Milton? Finally found a woman who you think's in your league, huh?"

"No, of course not—"

"Crowley'll be confined by mornin'," Phillip promised. "And you'll start your first shift with Merle tonight."

Feeling that Milton's refusal to join the army was not up for debate, especially not as a deal breaker to get Crowley put away, Milton was about to say so, but Phillip shut the door on him.