A/N: About what Joshua The Terminian asked as an FYI to everyone: It's said in the prequel (chaps 15 and 16) that Gareth's middle name is Christopher and Martin's Charlie.


Awaking to a frantic shake of his shoulder and the anxious repeating of his name, Gareth opened his sleep-stricken eyes to find daylight had come.

"Gareth! Gareth!" called the blurred figures of what appeared to be Albert and Cynthia lingering over him.

He pushed himself up on his elbows, a heavy weight threatening to pull him back down. "God... what? What's..." Glancing around, he noticed he was outdoors. "Why—why am I outside?"

"Kaylee and Beth are gone," Cynthia said.

He leaned forward and rubbed his face with both hands. "What do you mean they're 'gone?'"

"She means this." Albert handed him a torn piece of notebook paper. "After we woke up outside feeling like we were hit by a truck, we found it in the shack where they were gone."

Rubbing his eyes again, Gareth pulled the paper from Albert's hand and focused on making out the scribbled writing:

I can't do this anymore. I'm getting a way out. I'm sorry for drugging you. Goodbye Albert, Cynthia, Theresa, Alex, Gareth, Martin.

-Kaylee

Gareth squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will himself out of the dream he must have been having.

"She left!" Cynthia shouted. "She fuckin' drugged us, dragged us out here, and left and took Beth with her! She fuckin' left us!"

The way her voice pierced his ears assured him he was not dreaming.

No.

This was a trick, he concluded. Beth escaped, drugged them, pulled them outside, wrote the note to frame Kaylee, took her hostage, and left. There was no way she would leave them out of her own free will.

No.

Gareth climbed to his feet, heaviness again threatening to force him back down. "No, that's not what happened. Beth must have gotten free, forced her along, and faked the note."

"Why would she do that, huh?" Albert asked. "There is no reason for her to have done that. None."

Gareth began to argue when it dawned on him that there was in fact no reason. "I... No, she couldn't have..."

"You did this," Cynthia accused, glaring at him.

"Excuse me?"

"You and your little dictatorship here! You've lost your way, Gareth. And this whole stupid ass thing with Beth? I only went along 'cause I thought it'd help your little issues about what an oh-so-sad failure you are! But no, it made it worse!"

Electricity coursed through his system, negating the drug's effects. "I was trying to get us closure for what they did to us! Something, anything is better than how we left it!"

"No, you missed your chance and you still won't accept it. Boo-fucking-hoo you're a terrible leader, you failed us. But it's over, get the hell over it! And you know what? You are a terrible leader now. Not 'cause of Terminus but 'cause of this bullshit!"

Her voice slashed like daggers against his every nerve and he stepped toward her, bringing their faces mere inches from one another. "I have done my best trying to keep us alive! Do you think you could do this!? Because I don't think so. You'd just cry over flowers being too pink and you'd never be able to butcher someone on your own because it's just too damn sad." Her face twitched with a flash of hurt.

"Hey!" Albert interjected. "You don't get to talk to her like that!"

"No, it's fine, Albert," Cynthia assured him. "I don't care what you say, Gareth. I care what you do. And who are we gonna go after now, huh? I swear if you're thinkin' of goin' after Beth and Kaylee and not Alex, Theresa, and Martin, then I'm outta here. I'll look for 'em myself without you."

He shook his head, raising a hand to his hip. "Beth and Kaylee are closer and we can track them directly from here."

"Are you serious!?" Albert demanded. "Let them go!"

"Seriously? Let them go? We don't let them go. We never do. What would that say about us?"

"She made her choice no matter how fuckin' dumb it is!" Cynthia contended. "We need to find your brother. Gareth, come on."

"You know what?" Albert questioned. "I hate to play this card, but you know what Mary would want to do. She'd want to find her son."

Gareth's jaw trembling, he clenched his teeth together in an attempt to make it stop. "Don't bring her into this."

"Too bad, because I am. You know as well as I do what she'd be telling you."

As much as he hated to admit it, the kid was right. After all, Mary had struck him when she learned he had left Alex in Atlanta for the trade. He recalled how sick with worry she was for him and how elated she became when he returned. Gareth knew his mother would have taken off to find Alex the very minute they stopped searching so they could handle Beth. And she probably would have found them already.

"Okay," he murmured. "Let's keep looking for Alex, Theresa, and Martin. But then we have to find Beth and Kaylee."

"I think we should let 'em go," Cynthia said, crossing her arms.

"Kaylee's a traitor now, Cynthia."

"She just wants to be happy and that ain't with us. I think she's a dumbass for doin' it, but I want her to be happy too."

"Why don't we vote on it?" Albert suggested. "When we're all back together, we'll vote on what to do. Like we're supposed to."

Gareth heaved a sigh. "Okay. Okay, yeah. We'll do that. Now, let's gather everything and eat something real quick. Give me a few minutes first to clear my head. I don't like... what did she give us? Some kind of NyQuil?"

Cynthia shrugged. "Feels like it."

She and Albert then proceeded off toward the shack, opening the creaky door and disappearing inside.

A songbird chirped overhead, illustrating the fresh and sunny morning. Based on the sun's position, Gareth pegged it around seven to eight AM. Mornings were his favorite time when the rest of the day was open and full of possibilities. This day was no different.

Strolling over to the side of the building, he lowered himself onto the ground and rested his back against the wall. It crossed his mind to retrieve the tape recorder he had been using for more personal musings, but decided against it. Closing his eyes, he tried his best to envision his mother in front of him. Images of her appeared along with his departed father, Michael, and girlfriend, Chelsea. He avoided imagining the latter two's counsel when he could, but they often showed up anyway, telling him what he was uncomfortable to hear.

Mary came to him wearing the pink button-down shirt she had worn to work every Friday before the turn. Michael materialized next to her, donning the simple smile that formed wrinkles at the edges of his eyes. And Chelsea sat beside Gareth, laying her head on his shoulder as he stroked her long black hair.

"Why did you do this?" Gareth pictured Mary asking. "Did you think I'd want you torment that girl because it'd make it better?"

"Why else would I be doing it?" he replied in a whisper.

"I wish they were all dead, you know that, but it's over. It's not like last time with the Occupiers. You missed your chance. There was too many of them. It's time to let it go."

"Alex is the last one of us you have left," Michael said. "He's your family, your brother. What would you do if he were dead? If you found him, Theresa, and Martin dead?"

"I'd just keep going," he replied. "I'd have to."

Mary reached for his hand and he imagined her touch warming his skin. "I know you have to. You always have to keep going, but you're not right now."

Heat formed behind his eyes. "I was just trying to not to fail them again. To give them some kind of resolution, something to help. After the Occupiers, we had a way to make it better. We could remember what we did to them and it gave us something. But now they are out there, thinking they've won."

"I know," Chelsea said. "But Beth wasn't even there when it happened. Guilt by association. It's not going to make you feel better if you chop her up and mail her to Rick in pieces."

He cracked a smile. "I'd never be that crude about it."

"You know what I mean."

"They'd find you," Mary said. "They'll kill all of you like they almost did already."

"Deep down you know you'd all wind up dead," Michael added.

"And then where will you have gotten them?" Chelsea questioned. "You said you were doing this for them and for Terminus, but then you'd all be dead. It'd all be for nothing."

"Were you saying something?" Albert's voice broke through his delusion.

Gareth's eyes flew open to see Albert and Cynthia standing at the corner of the shack. "Yeah, just mumbling stuff. It helps."

"Right," Cynthia said, narrowing her eyes. "Well, I'm ready to eat and get goin' "

Gareth rose to his feet. "Of course."


While Martin remained home alone—a gun resting in his lap for any possible intruders—Theresa and Alex took to a quick scouting of the neighborhood. The place looked to have been a wealthy one with large homes surrounded by rich forestry and high-end vehicles parked in some's driveways. One of which was a yellow Porsche housing a walker that threatened them as they walked by. Alex was unsurprised when he spotted a sign indicating a nearby golf course.

"I still worry he's not safe there," Theresa said as the two advanced down the side of the road.

"Don't tell me you care if he is or not," Alex teased.

She scowled a bit. "No, I just—it was such a pain in the ass to lug him here, I don't want all that to go to waste."

Alex gave a slow nod. "Right." He had a feeling she regretted their group share and care the night before.

"Oh hey, um..." She scratched the back of her neck. "I'm sorry about yesterday. Trying to guilt-trip you using Gareth."

"It's okay."

She shook her head. "No, it's not. It was totally unfair and you were right anyway."

"Yeah, well... I was." He let out a laugh which Theresa returned.

"I just... this whole thing sucks and the last thing I want to do is stay put."

"Hey, hey, I know. You don't need to explain it to me."

"Yeah well, I still feel bad."

"Hey, don't. Like Gare always says: look forward."

She offered him a warm smile, the same one she had the night in the church where he tried to kiss her for the first time. Despite his embarrassment since she was unready for the act, he held the memory dear. Homesickness hit him as they trekked along. What he wouldn't give to curl up and sleep in his old bed surrounded by his artwork on the walls.

An upcoming bricked mailbox sporting a written message then caught his eye. "Someone else is leavin' notes."

Only when they made it right in front of the object could Alex make out the black, sloppily painted words:

Sipsey or bust!

"Is that this place's name?" Theresa asked. "Or is there a Sipsey somewhere close?"

"I don't remember one on the map. We should be comin' up on Charlotte though."

A creaking alerted their attention from the house beside them. They turned to see a woman with short, grey-blonde hair standing in the ajar front doorway holding a handgun at them. Unsheathing their own weapons, Alex and Theresa aimed back at the woman.

"What are you doing here?" the stranger demanded, looking the two up and down.

"Probably the same thing you are," Theresa replied.

"We ain't gonna hurt you, m'am," Alex assured her.

Did I just call her 'm'am?' He felt it a bit over the top

"How long have you been here?" the woman asked, taking a tentative step forward.

"Just since yesterday," Theresa replied. "We're planning to move on soon. Don't worry, we're not here to encroach your territory."

"So, how long you been here?" Alex asked.

"A while," the stranger answered.

"Really? 'Cause not every house has been hit."

"It's a big neighborhood, buddy. I hadn't gotten around to it yet."

Alex put on a friendly smile. "Well you know uh, we can share with you before we head out. We got some supplies, lunch and dinner for later too."

She raised her eyebrows, sarcasm tinting her weathered face. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah, we were just seein' what else we might be able to find before we head out."

"It's just the two of you?"

Theresa nodded. "We have one more three houses back keeping watch."

Probably more like napping or jacking off.

"It just you too?" Alex asked the woman.

"Just me," she confirmed.

"If you want us to go back to our place, we will. We don't want any trouble."

"We don't have any problems with you," Theresa added. "And we don't have to."

The leg? The head? The chest? Should keep her alive for a bit...

The woman looked them up and down again before lowering her weapon a smidge. "Okay." She took a step back and Theresa fired her pistol, hitting her in the knee.

While Alex's ears rang, the stranger cried out and pulled the trigger on her weapon as she fell on her back, but missed her targets. The two sprinted over to her side and Alex kicked away the gun that rested in her palm.

"Don't move!" Theresa ordered. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be."


"You're fucking sick," the legless woman declared, lying up against the wall beside the fireplace. "I've seen some shit, but jesus! God, I can't believe how stupid I was..."

Alex, Theresa, and Martin had eaten most of her leg, keeping her alive to preserve the meat. Alex loathed the particular act. He much preferred killing them right away so they wouldn't have to see what was being done to them.

Sitting beside Alex on the coffee table, Theresa laid her finished leg bone on the plate between them. "Alright, listen, we're not doing this because we want to. I mean, we found a little food in there." She pointed toward the kitchen. "But we'd finish that in a day. And now we have you for a day, so we have two days' worth. See? It's one days' worth or two. And with you, we have enough to stay here and be fed for two more days. It only makes sense."

Her only response was to shut her eyes.

"Hey," Alex said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "What's your name?"

She opened her eyes halfway and murmured, "Alex."

"Oh, that might be a problem, 'cause so is mine."

"Why don't we just call you 'Ally?'" Theresa asked, gazing into the fire instead of at the woman she spoke to.

Ally remained quiet.

Martin leaned forward from his place on the lounge chair. "Yeah... you know I hate to ask, but y'all haven't built me that splint yet, so—"

"Oh, I'll do it," Theresa said, climbing to her feet.

"No, no, no, I will," Alex volunteered.

"No, I need to go too," she said. "Come on, moron, girls' meeting in the bathroom."

Alex felt his muscles stiffen. He had only been alone with the meat once and had hoped never to be again.

Theresa moved over to the chair and helped Martin up, then allowed his arm around her as he kept his right leg off the ground. After she guided him out of the room and outdoors, Alex debated over whether to speak to his namesake or not.

Ally's half-lidded eyes had opened all the way and she stared at him, her expression part malice and part devastation. Her eye color was a lovely shade of light green that he felt tempted to comment on, but given the circumstances, figured she might find it disturbing.

"So, uh..." He twiddled his fingers. "You from around here?" She continued boring her eyes into his.

Idiot. Might as well have asked her if she saw the game last night.

"Hey listen, I wish we didn't have to do this, but we do. It's nothin' personal. It's you or us and I gotta pick us. I gotta pick me and Theresa and even Martin over you. I know that don't fix it, but I just wanna let you know."

Ally glanced down. "Theresa... so are you two an item?"

He nodded. "Uh, yeah. So you see why I gotta put hers and my—"

Ally lurched forward and plucked the wedding band from Alex's finger, then hurled it into the fire.

"Hey!" Alex bolted up, searching to see where it landed and spotted it on a log consumed in flame.

He attempted to pull the ring back using his shoe, but instead pushed it forward to where it fell underneath the woodpile. "No, no, no, no, no..."

Kicking away various wood and the grill rack, avoiding catching his shoe on fire, he saw the ring by the back wall. A narrow space allowed him to slide his foot back and pull the ring out of the fireplace and onto the tile. Alex then knelt down and picked up the scalding hot jewelry with his sleeve.

It was stained with grey and warped into an oval shape, unable to fit on his finger. Turning to face Ally, he saw a slight smirk on her face. The sight made his cheeks flush red. He dropped the ring on the rug and kicked her across the face, forcing her to cry out.

"You stupid bitch!" He kicked her again, this time hitting her below the jaw. She emitted a choking sound as she fell on her side.

Moving his foot down, he started to kick her in the gut, Ally whining with every blow.

"You ruined it!" he screamed, striking her one last time before Theresa rushed in.

"What the hell happened!?" she shouted, meeting him by his side.

Alex turned to her, breathing heavily. "She—she threw my ring in the fire!" He pointed down to where his wedding band lay.

Theresa crouched down and picked it up, her mouth gaping open as she analyzed the damage. Then handing the ring back to Alex, she marched over to Ally and pulled her up by her shirt collar.

"Don't fuck with us," she spat. "I told you this only has to be as hard as you make it. Got it?"

Ally nodded. "Sorry." She looked to Alex. "I—I won't do anything like that again. I promise."

Pleading with Alex as if he were the biggest threat took him aback. It dawned on him that he had never struck anyone when he hadn't needed to. Gareth was always the one the meat feared the most. After all, he was the leader, the talky one, the one everyone else took orders from. Yet in his namesake's eyes, he was the bad one—the violent one.

As upset as he was over the ring, his anger faded at the fear Ally showed of him. It was not a reaction he enjoyed causing.

"You—you uh, leave Martin out back?" Alex asked, trying to add a fleck of normalcy.

Theresa released her grip on Ally's shirt and let her fall to the floor. "Yeah, I told him to stay put. Actually, you ought to go get him while I remind her what manners are."