"Oh my God," I breathe.

Dad's hand on my shoulder.

The others come out. There are gasps and someone squeals a little as they see, as they understand. "Patricia," Hershel says, "Kill the lights."

"I'll get the guns," says Andrea.

Footsteps. The door.

I can hear them now. I can hear the million walkers. One big growl, an ongoing snarl that's edging in around us like a fog, thicker and thicker and thicker.

"Maybe they'll just pass like the herd on the highway. Should we just go inside?"

These words pour from Glenn's mouth as fast as water would, barely a pause, no room to take a breath. Panicked. My dad's answer is much more controlled. "Not unless there's a tunnel downstairs I don't know about. A herd that size'll rip the house down."

More controlled but not reassuring.

They're getting closer.

Maybe there are two million.

The door and then Lori speaking. "Carl's gone!"

I whirl around, my hand leaving the railing so fast I feel myself get a splinter.

"He – he was upstairs." Her eyes are wide, wild, her palm is pressed against her chest. "I can't find him anymore."

Glenn says maybe he's hiding. Lori snaps back that he was supposed to be upstairs and then she turns to me. "Sydney –"

"He was up there when I left," I stutter out, "That was – that was fifteen minutes ago, he didn't say anything –"

That's not the answer she wants. "I'm not leavin' without my boy!" she tells the group, her voice breaking, and Carol grabs her.

"We're not, we're gonna – we're gonna look again, we're gonna find him!"

They run into the house just as Andrea comes out of it, the gun bag in her hands. "So many . . ." I hear Glenn mutter, and he's not talking about the guns, he's talking about the herd, the army . . .

And Carl's gone.

"Dad . . ."

"It's okay."

Andrea puts the bag on the floor of the porch, opens it up. Guns are passed around, Glenn has one, Maggie has one, Hershel. Then my dad says, "They've got the numbers, it's no use," and I stare up at him, because I don't know what he means by no use and I don't scare easy but I'm scared, and Carl's not here, and I –

"You can go if you want." Hershel's loading up. My dad's eyes flicker between him and the herd.

"You gonna take 'em all on?"

"We have guns. We have cars." The pump of a shotgun.

"Kill as many as we can," Andrea agrees, "Then we use the cars to lead the rest of them off the farm."

"You serious?" Dad says, I think to Hershel. I'm busy watching the walkers. Glenn's right. So many. No use, Dad said . . .

But Hershel answers, "This is my farm. I'll die here."

" . . . Alright. It's a good a night as any."

I look up at him, at my dad, to find he's already looking down at me. "But not for you, sweetheart. C'mon."

I'm dazed. Isn't that the word for it? When you feel like you're walking in a dream – or a nightmare – and you're not really sure what to do? Well, no, I am sure what to do – follow Dad. I follow Dad, I follow Dad, I follow him away from the others and down the porch steps. I follow him, jogging, over to Merle's motorcycle. Merle. I miss Merle. Mid-step, Dad grabs me under the arms and swings me up and onto the bike. He leans down. I can see his breath when he talks because it's just that cold. It's a good thing I have a jacket now.

"Here's what's gonna happen – listen, Syd."

He means because my eyes have gotten drawn over to the edge of the farm and the shapes that lurk there. I tear my gaze away from all that, focus on Dad.

"You got your gun?"

I touch it. "Yeah."

"Okay." He walks around me, hooks his crossbow on the back of the motorcycle. "You and me, we're gonna ride around for a while, we're gonna kill as many of these son'bitches we can, and then –" He's back beside me, one hand on my arm – "we're gettin' the hell outta here."

Like Andrea said. "Lead – lead the walkers off."

"I don't know 'bout that. Maybe." He glances over me. I hear them well now. They're really close. The million or two. "Point is, this ain't nothin' but target practice. You're safe. Got it?"

Target practice. With walkers. Well, I've put one down already, haven't I? What's a few more? But Carl – and Carol, and the others –

Not the time. Not the time. Gotta focus on my dad and me. Now.

So I nod. "Got it." I sound normal. Good for me.

"Here." Dad hands me something. A box of bullets. Then he gets on the motorcycle, and I wrap my arms around him, and then the bike starts roaring and we're going, we're going, and it's cold but I barely notice. I press my face into Dad's vest. He's warm and I'm safe, I'm safe, he said so.

Just target practice.

It's only a minute later when we stop. I grit my teeth and I think of Dale, and Mom and Sophia and everyone, and then my hand has my revolver in it and I'm looking up, and we're close to the barn, and the barn's on fire, it's burning from the inside, and there are walkers all around it, separated from my dad and me by a fence, and a lot are going towards the barn but some are coming for my dad and me, they're close, and there's a bang because Dad's shooting and then I'm shooting, too.

I miss the first one I aim for. Then I hit it. Then I keep hitting. Six bullets, and five find their marks. Five walkers down. Just over a day ago I'd never hurt a one. Now I've done in six. Dad yells something as he puts his gun away. That's my girl, I think. Then we're going again. We pass by a truck, I can't tell who's in it, but that's one of two vehicles and the RV that are out here. Fighting for the farm, but Dad said it was no use, but we keep on going, don't we?

Twice more we stop, Dad and me, and both times the same scene rolls out. We're separated from the walkers by a fence, we shoot. Reload. Shoot. I lose count. I put so many walkers down that I lose count. I lose count . . .

That last stop, the walkers shove down the fence before my dad gets us away. They come really close, the geeks do. But then we're gone, we're gone. And the RV is close, pointed towards the barn. Dad brings the motorcycle right up to it, and Jimmy's hanging out the driver's window, gun in hand. My dad stands up a little, yells right at Jimmy. It's so loud, between the motorcycle and the gunshots and the growling, and it's hard to hear, but I think he tells Jimmy something about Rick and Shane and the fire – and yes, yes, one of them must've started the fire, to draw the walkers in – and then I hear circle round and Dad yells Go! as he sits back down, and then Jimmy's driving the RV – Dale's RV – off towards the flaming barn and my dad and me peel away. To another fence, more shooting. Another fence. Then no fence at all. Then another fence. Shooting, shooting, walkers down. Walkers keep coming, though, they just keep coming.

I see the others, ripping up the grass in their vehicles. And over at the house, I see a lone figure standing out front, and the white hair tells me it must be Hershel. But what about Carl? And Rick and Shane? What about Carl?

The box of bullets gets lighter and lighter, of course. And then it's too light. And then my dad and me aren't going from fence to fence anymore. Target practice is over. Dad gets us out to the edge of the farm, but not the edge that the walkers came in from. The edge on the other side. Where it's quiet and lonely. Then Dad shuts the bike down and we sit and stare.

The barn is totally overtaken by fire. Shadows of walkers move against it, into it, with it.

No more vehicles. The others are gone. They've left, I guess. Maybe to lead some of the walkers off the farm. But it won't be enough, I know. All this shooting we've done, and it doesn't look like there's any difference. None at all.

The farm is lost.

I hold onto Dad. I feel his hand cover both of my own as they latch together over his stomach.

I'm too tired to cry.

And I want to know where Carl is. Where everyone is. What'll happen and where we're gonna go, all of us or just my dad and me. And not knowing any of that, that's scarier than the herd of walkers.

But I'm too tired to cry.

Too empty.