The backseat brims with black bags - at least ten of them. They shuffle and clank with each bump or curve in the road. Rick hasn't stopped beaming since he laid eyes on the stash, tucked off into a ditch just where I said it would be. I hoped he would acknowledge that I told the truth all along, but he seemed preoccupied with the fact that they'd "finally beat Woodbury." It seemed as if all his problems were solved in that moment.

I don't press him on it, even though my curiosity eats away at me. Instead, I enjoy the sort of weightlessness Rick now embodies. His smile is genuine and his body relaxed as he drapes one hand across the steering wheel. I know how humans are, even during a time like this - they need conflict, they find it, they hurry for a solution, and start all over again. I assume Rick's group is no different. Each person I've met along my travels had some sort of war going on with others; usually theft or a battle for resources. I still don't know what Rick's group is fighting for, but it doesn't matter because he's happy now.

I left my clothes back at the little house and swapped them out for some of the clean ones from the dresser. Whoever lived there was certainly an older lady, noted by the floral patterns on nearly every shirt, and I actually like it. I stashed some shirts and pants in my backpack and threw on this loose-fitting white tank top with lace trimmings. I managed to find some flared jeans that fit me well enough and a pair of socks that was free of holes. I catch Rick glancing at me as I flip through the book he found.

"Anything interesting?" He asks, squinting at the bright sun.

"Yeah, actually," I say, pointing to a faded sketch of a flower. "Whoever owned this actually used it and jotted some notes here and there."

"Well, may they rest in peace," Rick says under his breath. I know he means it half-heartedly. I mean, death is all around us. But still, my heart sinks at the thought.

I flip to the book closed and peel back the cover. The name "Donna" is written in neat cursive at the top corner, dated all the way back to 1968. I let my fingers trace the name, as if it will bring me closer to this woman in some sort of spiritual way. Part of me morbidly wishes Donna died a long time ago, way before any of this plagued the world. Maybe it's her shirt I'm wearing right now. I feel like a thief. I close the book and zip it into my backpack.

As we inch closer to the prison, Rick finally gives me the answers to what I've been wondering all along.

"You've been helpful," he starts, "if not stressful at the beginning."

I scoff. "Unnecessary, but continue."

Rick smirks before taking a deep breath. "So, I'll consider letting you stay at the prison for a bit. Uncaged," he adds.

"I know," I say, with a confident, mocking tone. I raise my brows and cross my arms. "The minute you laid eyes on those guns, I think you were ready to offer me anything I wanted."

Rick shakes his head with a playful grin. "You have no idea how badly we needed this."

I decide now is as good a moment as ever to finally inquire more. My tone falls serious as I turn my head to face him. "So, what exactly do you need it for?"

I watch as Rick's smile drops. He rubs his shoulder and keeps his eyes forward. "We've got people comin' to fight us. They want our prison. That's why you can stay with us a couple days, maybe a week or two - I don't know when they're planning to show - but then you gotta move on. It won't be safe there, not when they start comin'."

"What?" My brows pinch together. My whole body stiffens as I turn to face him. The thought of having to leave usually wouldn't phase me, but I need to find my brother. Rick knows that. "Well, I'm not leaving until I find Robert." My voice is more stern than I intend, but I mean it just the same.

Rick shakes his head and gazes out his window. "I told you. I'll help you look today. If he's not here, he's not here. You gotta move on before Woodbury comes. You said yourself, you can't shoot a gun, and it's just best you stay out of it. I don't want you to get hurt."

"That's fine, I'll leave, but not without Robert."

"We'll look today."

"Fine," I say, and cross my arms, falling back into my seat. I crane my neck as far as I can, watching the trees blur together as we drive.

If I were alone, I'd cry out of frustration. Doesn't Rick know how long it took me to get here? How much I've suffered just for the chance to see my brother? What if it takes longer than today to find Robert. There could be places of the prison Rick hasn't even seen yet - how can he be so sure? If Woodbury shows up today, am I just out of luck? I feel sick thinking about it. As if throwing me into a jail cell wasn't enough. As if ten bags of guns and ammo wasn't enough.

This group is just like the rest of them.