For a few moments they looked at the sign, unsure of what to make of it. It promised sanctuary and security, but neither looked particularly convinced. Only when Connor noticed the map below it did he make a move forward. The thing was faded to hell, but a few of the town and city names still stuck out, as did the black X marking Terminus' location. Making a quick estimation as to where they were now, it didn't look promising.

"'Those who arrive survive'…" Murphy said, almost to himself, speaking loud enough for Connor to hear a second later. "You think it's a camp of some kind..?"

"I think it's nothin'. Come on, we should get movin'."

Murphy hesitated a second longer before copying his brother, his hand going to his torso as he sat back in the car and slammed the door behind him, as if to keep the bandages in place a while longer. And within the minute, they were on the road once more. It wasn't long before one of them spoke again.

"Could be good, whatever it is"

Connor glanced in the rear view mirror as he replied, albeit a little wearily. "Terminus?"

"Aye. Maybe it's like some refugee place, or like the prison"

"Or maybe it's like Woodbury."

"Other than the sociopath leader, Woodbury had a good thing goin'." Holding up his hands, he gave a shrug. "I'm not sayin' we should go, just that if it exists and it's legit, then good on 'em."

"Aye, well…even if it does exist and it's still up an' runnin', it's in the opposite direction to where we're headed – we'd be wastin' fuel on somethin' we don't know anythin' about. We gave Woodbury a fair shot, and the Prison…we should try it on our own for a bit. See where that gets us."

And so they did. As they drove, they'd see the occasional sign, urging them to turn around and head back up towards this new found safe haven. And while he knew Connor was right and that they were both on the same page, Murphy couldn't resist letting himself imagine what it could be like. It almost made him miss Woodbury. Despite its leader and his way of thinking, it had been the most welcoming place they'd both stayed in in a long time. There'd been real food, and medical help if they ever needed it, and for the first time in months they'd been able to sleep right. Hadn't had to worry about where the other was or if they were safe. Until everything had kicked off with the raid, Woodbury could have been home for a while longer.

However, when the engine began to make odd sounds, it shook them both out of their own heads. Connor barely had a 'What the fuck' out before it really began to sputter, and streams of grey and black smoke began to creep and billow from under the bonnet. Haphazardly pulling off to the side of the road, Connor killed the engine and climbed out, swearing as he went.

"You've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me"

Lifting the bonnet only emptied a cloud of the acrid smoke into his face, forcing him back a few steps and setting off a bad fit of coughs. Murphy just joined his side, and watched it erupt as he rubbed his back while he caught his breath. Once he'd straightened up again, for a second they just looked at the car in disbelief and weary defeat. They could both drive, but neither knew a lot about mechanics. The bare basics at a stretch, but as they came to the realization that they were pretty much stranded, it was easy to conclude they could do very little.

Rubbing his nails through his hair, Connor sighed heavily, and shook his head.

"This is all we fuckin' need…right fuckin' now, this is all we fuckin' need…"

The bite in his tone was hard to ignore.

"…Come on. Let's get the shit outta the back"

"And then what, genius? We hitchhike? In case y'hadn't noticed there ain't exactly an abundance of spare cars just layin' around and there's more shit back there than we can carry."

Murphy just narrowed his eyes at him, and went to snap back, but instead just made his way around to the back passenger side door, leaving Connor to fume by himself for a minute. Eventually, he followed suit, going to the other side and doing as he did.

For the most part, he'd exaggerated; the supplies they had would weigh them down, but next to all of it could be carried in their two bags. When Murphy tried to swing his onto his shoulder and promptly failed, it hit the ground with a heavy 'thud' as he braced himself against the car, a curse of his own slipping through gritted teeth. Picking it up for him, Connor pushed it onto the backseat, and turned Murphy around to face him, though he didn't need to lift his brother's shirt to see that he'd opened up one of the bigger gashes that ran parallel to the bottom of his ribcage. Not by much, but enough to stain another shirt.

"Guess you're still feelin' delicate then"

"Fuck off…fuckin' stings"

"Aye, I'll bet. You'll be alright?"

Murphy just nodded, and went for his bag again, this time lifting it and hooking it onto his shoulder with a little more caution. Once he was sure he was okay, Connor clapped him on the arm, and went back to retrieve his own. As they started to walk, he gave the car tire an enthusiastic kick to the right front tyre as a harsh goodbye, and gradually, the vehicle became smaller and smaller behind them. A little down the way, they stopped to see if there was anything ahead; any houses, gas stations, stores, anything. Of course, Connor's estimations as to where exactly they were could have been off, but it was better than nothing. The next name in their direction was a town called Aldora, and after that, the city of Barnesville. Both potentially promising, but the boys both knew the journey to both had suddenly became far more precarious, and one hundred per cent more uncertain.

But, they had a plan. It was a rocky one, but now that they had something to shoot for, Connor was just a little less on edge. Folding the map back into his pocket, he grabbed up his bag again, and directed them off of the road and into the forest. Or at least, what was left of it. It wasn't long before they were just as exposed as they had been on the road.

For some time, it was peaceful. The thick humidity of the air was uncomfortable at best, but by this point they were so used to it, it was easy to distract themselves from. After an hour they eventually stopped to break, with Murphy easing himself to the ground and rummaging in his bag for water, and Connor making himself scarce for a minute or two, returning to a shit-eating smirk from his twin. Raising a brow at him, Connor caught the bottle of water he was thrown with ease.

"The fuck're you grinnin' about?"

"You were gone an awful long time for a piss."

"What? You timin' me now? If y'want I can take seconds off of me best time an' jus' aim for your shoes when nature calls"

"Hey, I'm just sayin' – you wanna run off and have a quick wank behind the tree, s'all good with me. Bit unfortunate if a walker came an' gave you a reach around though-"

He earned a brotherly clout around the head for that, and as he was helped to his feet, a hard noogie for good measure until he managed to wriggle himself free. Pointing at him with a half-hearted attempt at a serious expression, Connor tutted his tongue against his teeth.

"You're a filthy little devil, Murphy Macmanus. Were y'raised in a fuckin' barn?"

"Same barn as you"

"Mark my words, next church we find, I'm tyin' you to one of the fuckin' pews and goin' on my merry way."

"Oh, aye?"

"Aye. I'll bet I'll even be able to find some stupid fuckin' rope t'do it with"

Rubbing his scalp, Murphy just sniggered along with the remainder of the joke, and Connor alongside it. With a shake of the head, he'd knelt down and closed up both of their bags, hoisting both on either shoulder before Murphy could argue.

"Come on. We've got some ways ahead before we get to our next stop. Hope you're in the mood for hikin'"

"Y'don't have to take mine – I've got it, I'm fuckin' fine"

"Yeah, and I'm fuckin' fine with both. Go on, get movin'"

Rolling his eyes, Murphy held up his hands in defeat as they started off once again, with one tentatively going to the disturbed wound across his front, the skin around it sore to the touch and sensitive to movement. Every slight pull and stretch brought another bolt of painful discomfort, but it was easy enough by now to mask.

Eventually, he managed to get his bag back, relieving his brother of some of the load, and for the next few hours, things were, for once, okay. They stopped only when they needed to, but both could happily admit it made a nice change to be walking instead of being crammed into a car for hours on end. They came across the occasional walker, but they were dealt with easily enough – that is, until they began to pass houses with more frequency – and as a result, encounter more walkers. Gun fire would only draw more out, but when they found themselves running from a gathering herd, sweating pouring down their foreheads and hearts pulsing with urgency, their lack of ammunition really bit down hard. It only took a second for Murphy to start to lag behind and for the chain link fence to slowly jolt into view, but that was all Connor needed for a new, improvised plan to take form. Grabbing a fistful of Murphy's shirt, he pulled him along as he headed for the fence.

One bag flew over the top with ease, landing hard on the other side, nearly crushed by the second as it came to rest only inches away. Then came the harder part. Bending down a little, Connor cupped his hands, creating a foothold. When Murphy looked back at the rapidly advancing horde, Connor shouted something at him, though in the heat and the adrenaline of the moment, Murphy couldn't have recalled what he'd said. One moment he was on the same side as his brother, the next he was clinging to the fence for dear life and being pushed up as far as Connor could reach. He landed awkwardly and heavily, but awarded himself no time to check for other injuries, as Connor was now climbing as best he could, unaided. They'd been like monkeys when they were kids, climbing everything they could, scrambling over walls and scraping their knees in the process, spraining ankles and help each other limp home, depending on whose turn it was to injure themselves.

Only, this time, Connor wasn't scrambling over the top with ease, nor was he scaling the fence itself like it was nothing. This time he'd barely managed to get high enough to be out of reach before the greying, rotting hands were grasping for his legs like ghosts snatching for their turn at the Ouija board. And then just like that, he went from being out of reach, to slipping enough for one walker to grab at his boot, and begin to drag him down.

"Murph'-!"

No sooner had his brother's name been yelled in desperation was Murphy pushing a hand through the chain links, only long enough to pull the walker closer and plunge his knife straight through the creature's eye, only stopping when the hilt hit bone. A moment later, and Connor was on the ground on his side of the fence, shifting away from the decrepit and pitiful faces pressed up hard against the mesh. Even from where he was standing a few feet away, Murphy could hear him breathing, loud and rasping and frantic, almost matching the frenzy that was now his heartbeat.

Helping him up, Murphy gave his cheek a firm pat, fixing him with the look he was used to being on the receiving end of.

"You a'right?"

With a glance back at the fence, Connor nodded. "Aye…fuckin' golden"

"Any scratches?"

"No, don't think so"

"Well check, 'cause we need t'get outta the open. That fence doesn't look like it could keep anythin' out much longer"

"I'm alright – come on"

Giving themselves a second longer to catch their breath, soon both bags were being slung over shoulders and the brothers were making their way into the house that the fencing surrounded. Surprisingly, the backdoor came open with little effort, and just like that, it was being closed behind them. Flicking his torch over the boards that blocked out the glass of the door, Connor raised his brows.

"Shoddy work…"

"Bitch about the DIY shit when we know we're not alone." Murphy muttered with a roll of the eyes, smirking to himself when Connor shrugged.

"Just sayin'"

Given their experience with the last house they picked out, it was something of a relief to both when they saw the state of the place; not to say it was a wreck, but rather it simply looked lived in. Small candles were placed in the hallway, not designed to give off much light, but enough for them to save their torch batteries once nightfall came and they could light them. Connor could feel himself calming down much quicker now that they were inside somewhere, although he knew that he'd feel 100% when he knew that door was secured properly. As he made a move towards the first door, Murphy went on further. It was a small house, only one floor, which meant it'd take half the time to clear out and less work to board up. As he went, listening with every step, he took note of the photographs on the wall. A large family lived here, by the looks of things – four kids, two mothers, and a large Doberman, apparently. While he liked dogs, Murphy found himself hoping he wouldn't run into one right now – especially not one that size. The rest of the pictures illustrated a happy and content life, one that made the Irishman hope they'd made it out safely – and then when he caught the second reflection in the glass of the eldest son's graduation photo, made him wish that they'd made it out safely any place but here.

Back in the kitchen, there was thankfully no serial killer vibe. There wasn't a lot of food, but Connor didn't have long to feel disappointed. In the crisp quiet they'd done their best to maintain, the sudden sound of hushed voices and the sound of a scuffle had Connor moving through to the next room, where he was met halfway by his brother stumbling to the floor, and the barrel of a rife coming to rest at the hollow of his throat. No sooner had Connor's own weapon come up did the homeowner break the ice. The woman who had Murphy pinned didn't take her eyes off of him as she spoke, voice hard and steely. A real no-nonsense type, crowned with a mane of black hair tied back, with skin nearly the same shade and an accent just as thick.

"Take out the piece, and throw it over there. Do it now or I blow your head off."

"Y'don't wanna do that, lady" Connor said steadily, giving his brother a short nod to do as asked. "We don't want trouble. Jus' came in here lookin' for shelter"

"I couldn't give a rat's ass what y'came here for. You lads brought a whole herd of those bloody things right to our doorstep! Now drop your guns, both of yous. I mean it."

"Not till you take yours off of him." Replied Connor, his gun staying up. "I'll tellin' you the truth, we're not here to hurt anyone. Put the gun away, and we'll leave. Simple as that. No one has to die here."

"Put it down."

This time, an American voice joined the scene; another woman, around the same age as the first, this time with a smaller build and a smaller gun, now aimed at Connor. After a very long, drawn out stand-off, eventually he did as instructed, slowly crouching to place his gun on the floor, coming up with his hands raised at shoulder height.

"Belfast?"

The first woman quirked a brow at him, and narrowed her eyes.

"What's it to you?"

"Common ground, if y'like." With a glance from the American back to her, Connor tried to be diplomatic, despite the weapon holding his brother for a ransom it'd yet to ask for. "We've done what you want. Now, I'm thinkin' it's time for you to hold up your end."

And after a look from her partner, eventually she did, the breath of relief from Murphy heavy and tired. Once the women had backed up a step, Connor went to help him up, muttering quickly and quietly.

"Right out of the fucking frying pan"

"I hear that"

"He's bleeding"

All of the attention was back on Murphy now, the hand pressed to his chest now the focus of everyone in the room as the rifle was brought up as fast as it'd been dropped, almost at the same speed as Connor's arm instinctively came up, as though that'd be enough to protect his sibling from a rifle shot.

"Christ, there's no need-"

"Lift your shirt"

"I haven't been fuckin' bitten-"

"Then lift your fuckin' shirt."

"Christ Murph, just do it."

And he did, only after Connor had brought his arm back down. What was left of the crude bandages and blood stained coverings either totally peeled away to reveal angry red wounds, or they'd fused to the scabs as his body had tried to heal him. Evidently, it wasn't a sight either women had been expecting.

"Jesus…"

"This wasn't one of them, this was done by another person, so put the fuckin' gun down."

"Fiona…" Placing her hand on her partner's arm, the American woman gave her a look. A look that was fortunately enough to persuade her to lower it once again, Murphy doing the same with his shirt. After a minute or so of hushed discussion from across the room, the red head took a step towards the brothers, fixing Murphy with a semi-friendly look.

"…I can clean those up for you. They look like they could be infected."

"What are you..? A nurse?"

"A doctor." She corrected. "And it looks as though your friend here needs one."