Disclaimer: AMC owns the story and characters of The Walking Dead, I just do wicked, cruel stuff to them.

Author's note: Aaaand another chapter! Oh guys, this is going to start getting dark, not much, mind you, but still, I'm warning you. We get a tiny bit of backstory here in a throwback to book one. If you liked the chapter, don't forget to tell me what you think, I need validation 3.

After

The night before

Walker brains flew everywhere, "You dicks could have told me we were surrounded!" Negan exclaimed, while another one tried to tackle him to the ground. "…the clumsiest fucking…"

Negan swallowed a sigh when he turned and saw the carnage that his companions had become.

Fucking zombie food.

His eyes fell on the bat, the very nice bat he had come to use.

What option did he have?

The solid feeling of the wood in his hand gave him security as he swung at the dead shits. Negan felt so fucking angry, even if it was futile, dead meat was dead meat. He threw the bat and started to walk away. The anger had simmered down a bit by then, but his eyes went back to the bat.

After all, it had saved him.

Georgia

They traveled during the day.

The dead ones were easily seen and the soldiers drove quite fast. Some knew the ways, some others did not, but the workload was sort of equilibrated.

Tom, Henry and Tory had food and some guns, while the good soldiers had more guns, some survival supplies and experience in battle.

Henry and one of the soldiers, Brooke Crhovic, hit it off from the start. Crhovic was Ben's second in command and his sniper. They spent as much time as they could together and Brooke kept saying that he was surprised with Henry's talent and natural ways with the guns.

"Brooke had a soulmate too." Ben told Tory one night while they got ready for the first watch. "Pretty little thing, kind of unfortunate that it was his niece."

Tory blanched at that and Ben laughed at her.

"Don't worry, there was nothing…weird." The lieutenant assured her. "She's dead anyway."

"Just because they die doesn't mean we forget them." Tory scolded.

"I didn't say that, but he is broken just like your Henry." The soldier's honey eyes kept her in place. "They might not live for too long."

The young girl closed her eyes knowing Ben might be right. Even if her grandparents had lived together for a long time, it didn't mean they weren't broken; her dad was a bit broken, and now Henry.

A weird sense of completeness always accompanied her. She knew from the constant knowledge of her soulmate running around. She had no love lost for her soulmate, but she was grateful to him for staying alive.

"I have a soulmate as well. Name's Beth, fierce little thing, if I do say so myself." Ben smirked at Tory as his hands smoothed out the map they have been following. "I'd like to meet her."

The young girl sighed, watching the lieutenant with wariness to his slightly naïve idea.

"That's going to be hard." She opted to say instead of speaking her mind.

"No walking corpse's gonna keep me from my soulmate." He vowed wistfully.

"I thought the young one here was me." Tory teased, tracing the same way Ben was marking on his map.

"If you can't dream at fourteen is not my problem, princess." Ben retorted, frowning as his eyes scanned the multiple routes.

"I'm sixteen, you air-head." Tory growled, while Ben laughed at her childish insult.

"Don't you know any good curses?" he asked, still teasing her. Tory glared at him and decided not to dignify his words with an answer.

They kept at work until it was too dark to keep going.

Tom had already lit a fire while Henry, Brooke and Tyson cleaned some rabbits from their earlier hunt.

The little group had formed a deep camaraderie in the few weeks since they had been together. The evenings had started to get longer as time went by. Sometimes, they exchanged stories, fun or sad. At first, everyone had tried to keep Tory away from the stuff, saying she was too young –which she objectively was- and that it was illegal, and Tory argued in her words: "There is no form of government that we know anymore, so there is no way to enforce that law and I need a drink."

They stopped arguing after a long political debate that had ended with everyone cursing the lack of action of the government in the whole corpses-are-coming-back-from-death-to-eat-us debacle.

For a while, they really didn't need to scavenge for much, but whenever they found canned goods, they took it since military rations could last only so long.

Avoiding the areas that used to be densely populated was tricky, keeping to backroads was a good strategy but these cities and towns that were full of people were now full of roamers; they had some nasty incidents, and were extremely lucky that none of them had died yet, so they never took good things for granted.

A quiet night with a little bonfire was now a luxury they could rarely afford, even if they wanted to get warm. Tonight they were celebrating Tyson's birthday, which meant everyone got extra alcohol, even if it took them to share some really…sad stuff.

"My mom realized it." Brooke offered. "She saw the marks appear on Stacey's leg when she was a little kid. I was fifteen."

The group had suddenly gotten quiet, listening to the usually taciturn sniper.

"Mom kept it secret, Stace was my niece, and I would have never hurt her." The soldier's lower lip started to quiver. "She was so scared…in those last minutes." Brooke said, touching his side unconsciously. "I wish I had been there."

Henry shuddered and Tory watched him with sad eyes as his arms tightened around her, and she knew he was thinking about Peyton's words that were on his back. The words Tory had refused to read for him.

Ben's eyes found Tory's and he shook his head slightly before downing another shot of the vodka.

"I know what you mean, son." Tom said soothingly, patting the sniper's back with soft movements. "It hurts to think…to know we can't help them."

Tory and Henry exchanged a look. Her dad never, ever, had spoken to them about his own soulmate. They knew their last words; they were printed in Tom's left ankle in a faded and childish writing.

His soulmate had died young.

"So what's the story, old man?" Ben asked, getting ready to pour them all another round.

Tom sighed and uncovered his left ankle.

It hurts, Tommy, I can't breathe.

"Her name was Sarah, Sarah Jane Oats." Henry gasped in surprise, completely baffled at his father-in-law's words.

"My…My aunt Sarah?" he asked stupidly.

Tom nodded.

"It was a coincidence that I ever met her, Henry, believe me." Tom said.

In that moment, Tory realized why she and Henry had gotten all those comments and teasing from the Oats family since they were kids. All the dribble about the families being tied after all and whatever shit.

"When I was seven, your family moved from Illinois." Tom recounted, trying to avoid Henry's gaze. "Your dad was my age and Sarah was four, she was a tornado of energy and happiness."

Tory felt a pang in her chest at the fondness in her dad's tone, it was the way he talked about her own mother. Love, respect and sadness all conveyed in his words.

"My aunt died really young." Henry provided. "My gran and Dad never talked about her much."

Tom nodded again. "She was nine."

The soldiers murmured a bit and shook their heads with what seemed to Tory like pity and sadness.

"We were playing inside the barn that was in the Oats property. It was a well-kept place, full of interesting stuff for three kids." Tom was well into his memories, and didn't notice the lot of them getting uncomfortable and tense at the implication that he had been there. "The weather was really bad that day and we didn't know…we were more worried about the rain that whatever was inside the barn."

Henry and Tory shared another long glance. There was no barn in the Oats property, not one that they remembered.

"Sarah was playing in a corner, using old cans to make towers while Alex and I played mechanics on one of the old bikes." Tom shuddered visibly.

"You don't have to say more, Thomas." Ben offered kindly but Tom was already shaking his head.

"Sarah was allergic to bees." He whispered, his voice barely audible above their own breathing and the sound of the burning wood. "The barn had an infestation."

Tory could picture the little girl playing alone, no one paying attention to her…

"It was only one." Tom's voice broke then, but he didn't need to explain anymore. "Sarah had your eyes Henry, and she looked so afraid." Tears rolled down Tom's cheeks as he kept going. "She had stopped breathing when your grandparents arrived. The weather was awful and no ambulance could reach us."

Brooke and Tyson drank another shot after Tom's words.

"She died in my arms." With a sigh, Tom extended his cup for more alcohol as Ben served him.

Tory found her father's eyes and locked her gaze with his. It seemed like a very bad joke, Henry and him going through the same thing. Suddenly, it didn't seem so unreasonable to her, how her dad had pried Peyton's body from Henry's arms so calmly.

The mood had definitely died, and Tory felt bad for Tyson who had a beer in his hand now.

"I guess we can keep celebrating tomorrow. It's quite late." Ben suggested.

Everyone agreed, and they shuffled to their tents awkwardly, leaving Brooke to do the first watch.

A gentle thud woke Tory up.

She blinked, and held her head with a silent gasp of pain. The throbbing wasn't a welcome feeling, and the light hurt her eyes, and she could see by the color of the light that It was barely dawn. "Jesus." She whispered, extricating herself from Henry's embrace and sitting up.

Then she heard it.

Steps.

Lots of dragging steps.

Steps and raspy, primitive moans.

She moved slow and silently, putting the throbbing pain in her skull aside.

Tory's grey eyes were now fully alert which was both good and bad. Good because she could now see clearly. Bad because she didn't like what she saw through the fine screen of the tent.

They were surrounded by the dead.