2:50 PM
Terminus
A few yards outside the door to the stairwell lay the remains of two children's bodies. The skeletons had been picked clean of every last tendon, and even the bones had been gnawed on, some almost down to the marrow. The small frames lay in pools of hardened, congealed, now black blood.
Sasha heaved, ran to a window, threw it open, and vomited outside of it.
Four yards from the door that led to the stairwell lay a single dead, adult walker, shot once in the chest, once in the chin, and once in the nose before the final death shot to the head. Two more bullet holes were in the wall, and spent shell casings littered the cement floor.
"Looks like they were running away from walkers, and toward the door, when they got taken down," Rick said. "Whoever had the gun wasn't much of a shot." Rick prowled around the dead walker, the picked-over bodies, and the general area looking at the ground. "Whoever had the gun got away with it. It's not here."
"Everyone in here must have died and turned around the same time," Rosita said.
"Maybe at night," Rick suggested, "when the few still living were sleeping. They awoke to find a fresh herd and ran. Someone shot back at the herd…but these two didn't make it."
"Sorry," Sasha apologized as, wiping her mouth with a handkerchief, she rejoined them. "It's just...kids. I'm not used to it when it's kids."
A bloody, half handprint marked the handle of the exit door that led to the stairwell. "Cover me," Daryl said as he put a hand on the door handle. Rosita leveled her rifle. Daryl pressed the handle down and jerked it open, but there was nothing on the other side.
One by one they crept up the stairwell, looking up and pointing weapons and occasionally glancing down at the trail of blood dripped on the stairs. On the door at the top of the stairwell, which would lead to another hall, was more blood. Rosita covered Daryl again as he jerked it open to find nothing but a humid, empty hallway.
He made his way down it, sweeping as he went, the others behind him, when he paused by a storage closet. Something was scratching against the door from the inside. Rosita and Sasha both aimed their rifles this time, while Daryl tried the handle. It was locked. The low hiss of a walker seeping through the edges of the door frame told them what to expect.
"Stand back," said Rick as he drew the revolver. "And plug your ears." It took three shots before the lock was off. Sasha pulled the door open while Daryl finished the growling walker with a bolt.
Rick was first inside to investigate. "He was bitten."
Daryl eased inside, ripped his bolt out of the walker's forehead, and craned his neck to look at the body. It was a teenage boy, maybe the same one that had run out, all clad in bullet-proof gear, to snatch up the medicines. He'd been a terrible shot, but he'd at least tried to get those kids out alive. And he'd been bit doing it, too. A chunk of his shoulder was missing.
"Why is he in the closet?" Rosita asked as she walked in. "And where's the gun?"
"He must have locked himself in here," Rick said. "So, when he turned, he wouldn't be able to get out and get at someone."
"So, someone's still here," said Sasha from outside the door.
There was the sudden sound of handgun racking in the hallway, and then a small, young voice saying, "Dwop it."
The Kingdom
5:39 PM
Gavin, sprawled out on the futon bed, blinked awake. He'd fallen asleep after making love with Frankie, and she hadn't woken him up. He reached for her but found the bed empty. He threw off the sheet and stood and rummaged through his pack, from which he pulled a clean pair of underwear and a clean undershirt. He pulled those on and then put back on his outer clothes. He hadn't packed any other pants.
As he was finishing the last button on his overshirt, Frankie, balancing a tray full of food in one hand, opened the door. "Good," she said as she walked in. "You're up, sleepyhead."
"Sorry. Didn't mean to pass out on you like that."
"Well, you've obviously been working hard. I figured you needed the rest. Besides, I needed to work on Benjamin. But you missed dinner. I brought you some. I ate already." She put the tray on the little table for him, and they sat down across from one another.
He took a sip of the iced tea, set it down, and picked up his fork. The tray had a small cup of soup – Campbell's Chunky Hearty Bean and Ham, it looked like – and a plate containing a salad of fresh lettuce, mushrooms, radishes, and cauliflower sprinkled with a few crumbles of cheese (goat cheese, he imagined), bits of hardboiled egg, and some small pieces of dry bacon. It was drizzled with oil and vinegar. He hadn't had this many fresh vegetables in a long time. The Sanctuary had gardens, but not as many as the Kingdom, and it had even more people. "Fantastic," he said after his first bite of the salad. "Thank you."
"So, when are you moving the rest of your stuff home from the Sanctuary? That backpack you brought can't be all you have."
Gavin swallowed hard. He didn't raise his eyes from the plate when he told her everything that had been going on, how much work there was to be done, how Laura couldn't possibly handle it alone, how he'd gotten himself onto the Council as its chairman, and how he wanted her to move back to the Sanctuary with him and live with him in his apartment there.
His plate and cup were clear by the time he was done talking between bites. His stomach was full – not just of food, but of tangled anxiety. She had listened without comment to everything he said, and he waited now, his hand gripping his empty iced tea glass. He raised his eyes finally, tentatively, to hers.
"I can't," Frankie said.
He felt like someone had sucker punched him hard in his gut. "Can't?" he asked.
"I can't. I have a job here, Gavin, one I love. One I'm good at."
"The Sanctuary could use a massage therapist. Even more than this place. All the work – "
"- I've made friends already. I decorated our apartment! It's nice here. It's pleasant. It's the first time I've felt at home since the apocalypse started. I can't go back there."
"It's different. It's better."
"It doesn't sound so great from your description," she observed.
"It's struggling, sure, but it is better. No one's living in fear anymore. I got the harem turned into rooms for single mothers and their children. Negan's quarters are next – that'll house two families. Laura got nicer tents on her supply run for some of the people, and a couple guitars and a tambourine, two harmonicas…There's music at night on the factory floor now. There are people laughing. It's not the Kingdom, I know, and there are still a lot of problems to iron out, but it's better than it was. And it's going to keep getting better."
"Then why can't you just hand the chairmanship of the council over to Laura? And have the workers – "
" – Citizens."
"Have the citizens elect a new council member to replace you?"
"Laura can't handle it alone. And I feel obligated here, Frankie, I created this vacuum when I arranged to have Negan assassinated. We need better security still. We have to expand the gardens and livestock. Repair all the broken windows so they aren't simply boarded up. Train more guards. And…I have to make it work. People's lives, their futures, are at stake. Over sixty people. And the people there, it matters to them. There were five who left to strike out on their own. And they all came back within three days. The Sanctuary is the best they've got. And it'll be better. Please. Please understand."
"I understand you have a sense of honor," Frankie said. "I think it's the first thing that made me fall in love with you. And I love you, Gavin, I do."
"I sense a but coming on."
"I'm not moving back to the Sanctuary."
He exhaled and sat back in his chair. "So that's it, then?"
"No. That's not it. My door is open to you, here in the Kingdom. My bed is open to you. As often as you can get back here, as long as you can stay."
"You mean that?"
"Yes."
He tapped the rim of the tray. "And…uh…in the meantime? Other men?" He was thinking of Daniel, though Daniel was hardly the only single man here. It was just that Daniel was about Frankie's age, unlike Gavin, who was ten years older than her. And Daniel was handsome, knightly. A knight of the Kingdom, in fact. And more to the point…he was here.
"Gavin Peterson, are you asking me to go steady with you?"
"This isn't high school."
She laughed. "It actually is." She waved a hand around the classroom turned apartment.
Gavin smiled. "Fine, yeah, I'm asking you to go steady with me."
"Are you going to give me your letter jacket to wear?" she teased.
"I'll give you one of my knives to wear." He'd noticed she wasn't armed.
"You know, this means no other women for you either."
"What other women?" he scoffed.
"You recently liberated an entire camp. I'm sure there's plenty of female citizens there who would be happy to show their gratitude. And women are attracted by competent men."
"I'm not sure how competent I am," he muttered. "It's just been one string of problems after another. But I am trying. I'm trying to build something there. After all those workers – "
"- Citizens," Frankie corrected him with a smile.
He smiled and nodded. "After all those citizens have been through, they deserve that."
"You're a good man, Gavin. Now say it with me. No other women."
"No other women," he agreed.
"And you're out of there on August 1st when they have the next election."
Gavin pushed his glass aside. "I'll try to be out of there on August 1st."
"That doesn't sound like much of a promise."
"Because it's not. Frankie, I won't make a promise to you I'm not sure I can keep. Laura may not be ready by then. The Sanctuary may not be ready by then. But I will try. That much I can promise."
Frankie sighed. "Then promise me this – you'll check in on the radio three days a week. We don't have to talk long. Just check in. We'll set a schedule."
He nodded.
"So, when do you have to go back there?"
"There's a Council Meeting tomorrow afternoon. So, given the uncertainty of the roads…I should probably leave at noon."
"Tomorrow!" she practically shouted. "I thought you'd be here a few days, at least."
"I'm sorry. But I have to supervise more construction on those living quarters. And we have to decide…well, the details would bore you."
Frankie shook her head with annoyance.
"I'm sorry," he repeated. "But I'll be back in eight days." He would bring some things for trade then.
"And how long will you stay that time?" she asked.
"A full day."
"One day," she repeated.
"Hey, we have all this evening and tomorrow morning together."
She sighed. "I guess we should make the most of our time then."
Relieved, he nodded. "Yeah. We should."
"Well…hurry up then and get your pants off!"
7:25 PM
Fun Kingdom
Carol smacked Morgan's staff with her own, swiveled, and then felt his staff on the back of her legs. A gentle tap. "You'd be on the ground now," he said.
She sighed and tapped her staff down against the pavement. "Knife throwing was easier."
"You just have to get your stance right so you don't end up on your behind."
Carol laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"Just your word choice." Your behind. "You have a very different teaching style than Daryl."
She'd asked for lessons in part to keep her mind off of the fact that Daryl and the others still were not back from Terminus yet and Rick was not answering his radio. But she'd asked to do the lessons near the gate, so she could be here if and when Daryl did get back.
Morgan stretched out a leg and put his weight on his foot. "Like this."
Carol imitated him but immediately relaxed her stance when she heard the roar of Daryl's motorcycle. She jogged to the gate. Morgan followed more leisurely. Daryl purred up to it. He had something strapped to his chest – no, someone – a small, dark-skinned boy who was sitting on the motorcycle in front of him between his legs. Daryl had belted the boy to himself.
Daryl puttered to a stop, put both feet down on the pavement, and then walked the bike inside with his feet when Carol swung open the gate. He put down the kickstand, undid the belt wrapped around himself and the child, and then dismounted, popping the kid up between his arms and setting him down on his feet.
"Who's this little guy?" Carol asked.
"This is Jamal," Daryl said.
"Hello, Jamal," she said gently. "How old are you?"
"Five and thwee months," he answered. He looked scared and uncertain, but then he spied Morgan. "Mowgan!"
Morgan had lived at Terminus before moving to Woodbury and then Fun Kingdom. He got down on his haunches, and the boy hugged him. Morgan hugged him back with one arm.
"Can you get him settled in the boys' room of the Royal Banquet?" Daryl asked Morgan, and Morgan, nodded, stood, and took Jamal by the hand to lead him to through the park.
Once they were gone, Carol kissed Daryl and then asked, "Are the other survivors coming in the truck? Are we taking them all in? There aren't enough adults to maintain Terminus anymore?"
"Ain't no other survivors. He was it."
Carol exhaled heavily.
"He was upstairs in the train station," Daryl continued, "hiding from all the walkers below. When the big turn happened, probably all at once, this teenage boy managed to get Jamal out, but he got bit doing it. Still, the teenager got the MREs and water out of an upstairs storage closet for the kid to have, left him his handgun, and went inside the closet, shut it, and locked himself in from the inside so when he died and turned, he wouldn't come after the kid."
"Oh my God."
"The other firearms were all downstairs, but he couldn't get to them. The radio was downstairs, too. Jamal couldn't answer it when we called without risking the walkers. He was up there for over two days. Just him. It was bad, Carol. It was real bad."
"Oh, Pookie…" Carol wrapped her arms around him, and he bent his head against her shoulder. When he began to part from her, she kissed the top of his head. "I was so worried. Rick wasn't answering his radio."
"It's broken. Guess Tom is gonna have to take a look at it."
"Where are they? Rick and Rosita and Sasha?"
"Gonna stay the night and burn the dead for a proper cremation. Didn't want the kid to have to stay and see all that. But we've got to decide if we're looting the place or re-settling it. If we're looting it, got to bring the military truck back. Ain't all gonna fit in the eighteen-wheeler. Told Rick I'd be back tomorrow, let him know the plan."
"We'll call an emergency board meeting." She looked over his blood splattered clothes. "But you need to get washed up. Has Jamal eaten?"
Daryl nodded.
"That poor little boy."
Daryl sighed. "Thought we'd save at least six with the pills, and that maybe some might even make it on their own. Knew it was gonna be bad. Just didn't think it was gonna be this bad. But I guess they lost all their fighters at Woodbury or in the invasion here."
"Not all of them," Carol said. "Because that boy – he's definitely a fighter. He's a survivor. And one day, he, and all these other kids here, will build a new world."