By the time Rick brought himself to look back at the camera feeds, the marines had looked away from the burned corpse, instead looking at various sections of the ceiling. Rick couldn't see what attracted their attention, but he still strained his eyes to see something, anything. Counterintuitively, the feeling of dread that had permeated throughout the car worsened as the minutes tick by with no sign of anything hostile, and Rick's breath came short and sharp.

The dread was realized, however, as Merle gave out a hoarse shout of, "Movement!"

Deanna whirled, turning to look in his direction, tracking with her gun sight as she did so. "Position?"

Merle was snappy as he responded, gaze intent on the tracker in his hand. "Can't lock, Sarge, I'd tell ya if I could."

Deanna's tone took on an edge in response, and Rick could see how so many of her missions were successful; she was no nonsense as she continued, gun in hand but gaze fixed on Merle. "Talk to me, Merle!"

Rick could see the tracker he was examining through the camera feed, could see how, every time Merle spun around, there were more dots before him, and he felt his breath - already too quick - speed up even more. The tension wasn't eased by Merle's next statement of, "Multiple signals, and closing."

Deanna nodded - or, at least, her camera bobbed - and she looked around again. "Switch to infrared." Rick could hear the slight signs of panic in her voice as she spoke, but it was well-hidden, and he marveled at her strength of character. "Look sharp!"

Gregory looked and sounded terrified, but he still tried to posture. "What's happening, Deanna?" He looked like he was floundering for words as he added, "Can't see a damn thing in here!" It was a clear attempt to distance himself from whatever was about to happen, but Rick didn't bother even trying to address it.

He was far too focused on the lives of the marines in the nearby building - something that should have described Gregory, too, but didn't - so he shouted instead. "Damn it, Gregory, pull your team out!"

Gregory didn't respond, and the team themselves were far too focused on their immediate danger to address the squabbles of a rookie and a civilian in a too-remote vehicle. Merle, gaze still fixed on the tracker in his hand, interrupted without any hesitation. "I got signals. In front and behind."

Andrea seemed terrified, if the jerky, oscillating movements of her helmet meant anything. "Where, Merle? I can't see shit!" Her voice was high-pitched, and Rick could see her gripping her gun tightly.

Dixon chimed in, then, voice low and calm, and Rick envied him for his apparent lack of fear. "She's right, Merle. Ain't nothin' movin' back here."

Merle was a mix between pissed and scared; Rick could tell from his tone as he bit out a response. "Ya have a stroke, boy? Lose yer sense of direction? I'm telling ya, there's somethin' movin' here and it ain't us!"

A few of the marines split off from the rest of the group, spreading a little further out into the room. Rick watched through the monitors as Morgan walked over to Andrea, patting her heavily on the shoulder in a gesture that seemed to simultaneously unnerve and reassure her. Dixon remained at the back, but some of those nearer to him moved closer as well, facing outwards with their backs to one another.

Michonne, meanwhile, separated further than the others had, and she called back. "Could be, they don't show up on infrared!"

And then, it all went wrong.

Seconds after she'd finished speaking, she was just… gone.

Well, not completely gone. Her screams still carried over the audio line, and a little bit of her camera feed was visible, but it was mostly darkness and static. She also remained present when, as she rose into the air, her finger reflexively hit the trigger of the flamethrower she carried, sending a blast of flame straight at Andrea.

Andrea was sent over a railing, plummeting through one of the many holes in the metal, falling past deck after deck before crashing - still on fire - into the water that had gathered beneath. Rick could see the fall through Morgan's camera, who had been right beside her when she fell and had rushed towards her in an attempt to stop it, and he admired the other man's desire to save his teammate.

At the same time, however, his eyes flickered over to Dixon's screen, noting a bag lying on the ground, fire licking at it. It took him too long to realize why a random case had captured Dixon's attention, but it eventually made sense… Andrea had the ammunition when she died. She died after suffering a direct hit from a flamethrower. Fire and volatile ammunition do not get along well. Shit.

Dixon managed to haul Morgan away from the railing, literally yanking him back from the edge and shoving him away from the flaming bag. Rick reflexively looked at the positions of the others as they ran, noting that Carol had walked closer to help, grabbing Morgan's other side. They made it several feet away.

Then, the bag exploded and several monitors flatlined.

Rick looked over at the cameras, only half-registering the names atop the flatlined screens or Dixon's shout of, "Morgan and Carol 're down!" Had Rick been paying more attention, he might have flinched at the chaotic mix of anger, concern, and pain in the other man's voice. Instead, he was staring at the bodies on the ground, at the twisted, broken forms of the people he'd come to know, literally sitting on the edge of his seat.

The others were shouting, voices overlapping in a mixture that made his head hurt even without actively listening. Deanna called out for some of her men - clearly not knowing that they'd been killed or gone missing without access to the pulse rate data - while Dixon tried to update the others as clearly as was possible given the crowded line. Rick knew he looked completely panicked now, looked like a mess with wide, reddish eyes and a creased brow as he took in the now-dark monitors, watched the feeds slowly shut down as another person died, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about looking tough. He was a mess, after all.

He watched primarily through Dixon's camera, then, watching as he rolled over the corpse of Morgan Jones and ensured that he was dead. Rick heard Dixon shout for Carol and what sounded like her scream, watched as the soldier tried to find her amidst the chaos... but he had no such luck, and the matter was complicated when somebody started shooting.

It was Rosita, Rick realized too late, who had started shooting. Her cry of "Let's rock!" should have been a good observation on that front, but his thoughts had connected too slowly, had been too scattered to stem from being observant as opposed to instinct.

Gregory, having lost all authority over the course of the mission, was completely and utterly terrified. Rick could see sweat rolling down his face, his eyes wide in a mix of panic and fear that spoke ill of the man's future leadership (as though his past leadership had been great). He'd lost control of the situation, and they all knew it, but that didn't stop him from trying to take it back. "Damn it, who's firing?" More shooting comes over the line. "I ordered a halt-fire!"

Merle was shouting, then, and Gregory's words - pointless words that didn't need saying anyway, that did nothing more than cover his own ass and distract - were lost. "They're comin' out of the damn walls! Let's book!"

Gregory seemed to finally get back a little of his (alleged) leadership, and he started speaking into the microphone. "Deanna…" He was interrupted by a scream that carries over the line, but it does nothing to distract him. "I want you to lay down a suppressing fire with the incinerators and fall back by squads to the APC." Rick couldn't help bowing his head in frustration, severing his gaze with the computers as he contemplated Gregory's strategic idiocy. After all, he could barely hear Gregory's words (much less understand them), and he was two feet away. If the loud noise of gunshots and screams were interfering with his auditory capabilities, Deanna had little to no hope of following such a long and complicated order. Still, Gregory didn't apparently notice, asking, "Deanna, do you copy?"

No response.

Gregory repeated himself. "I want you to lay down a suppressing fire with the incinerators and fall back by squads to the APC."

She responded, but it wasn't anything actionable. Instead, she said, "Say again? All after incinerator."

Gregory sighed, as though he were the one being inconvenienced. Then, he spoke, though he didn't answer her question. Instead, he repeated the part she'd already heard. "I said, 'I want you to lay down a suppressing fire with the incinerators and fall back by squads to the APC.'" His eyes were closed, looking like he was both trying to steel himself and trying to remember his own words, and his voice shook with each word.

Rick watched something move on Deanna's screen and realized that she was about to respond, her hand going up to reposition her mouthpiece, but she never got the chance. Instead, a second flash of motion - this time, hostile, for Rick could see the vicious shape of whatever the aliens were - slid across her screen and she was pulled to the ground, gliding a short distance along the floor before being yanked into the ceiling, her own camera cutting off.

Gregory didn't seem to register what had just happened. Instead, his eyes - already wide to some degree, but now steadily growing wider - were pinned on Deanna's monitor. His words were quiet, especially compared to the crescendoing noise from the camera feeds. "Deanna?" His voice was one of quiet disbelief, the kind of voice you'd hear from someone waking from a dream and unsure of what precisely was real. "Talk to me." He repeated himself, voice growing stronger - "Talk to me!" and Rick couldn't help interrupting.

"She's gone!" He turned, looking back at the cameras, listening to the shouting and screaming filtered through antique technology. Merle's camera was directed at his brother, watching as he sent crossbow bolt after crossbow bolt at the enemy, each one aimed for a perfect headshot, each one taking down another alien. Merle took down one of the creatures as it tried to strike at Dixon's back, and Rick momentarily worried about the acid, but the shot was clean enough that the backspray shot off to the side, falling harmlessly to the metal and beginning to eat it away. He can see enough from Rosita and Abraham's cameras to guess that they were back to back, each shooting the enemy with their smart guns, unwilling to heed the ceasefire. They were all handling a horrible situation remarkably well, but Rick knew that they'd never be able to hold out, so he turned to Gregory. "Damn it, get your people out of there! Do it! Now!"

"Shut up, Rich!" Gregory ignored him, turning back to the computers with no sign of listening.

Rick ignored him in turn, grabbing the spare headset and shouting into it. "Dixon! Whoever else is still alive! Get the hell out of the-" Gregory grabbed the headset back, repeating his order to "Shut up!" as he did so, and Rick can't help a shout of his own. "Damn you, Gregory!"

Merle was running, now, hurrying over to his brother, who stepped back from the now-temporarily-clear section of the room, turning with a shout of, "Where's Deanna?"

Merle ran right up to him. "She's toast, baby brother. Let's get outta here."

Dixon nods, seizing control of the situation and shouting, "C'mon! Bug out!"

Gregory - frozen once more at the loss of half (or over half?) of his men - tried to talk to those remaining, then. "Merle? Rosita?" Rick ignored him, looking at the monitors as Dixon gestured for the others to go, covering their retreat with his crossbow. "Daryl?" He finally seemed to grasp the situation, stuttering, "F… fall back." The order, however, was weak and quiet, barely breaching the silence of the APC, much less making it over the line. Dixon, who'd already been giving that same order, either didn't hear Gregory or ignored him; either way, Gregory shouted the order again, this time a little louder. "Fall back!"

Rick grabbed Gregory by the shirt collar, forcing him backwards into his chair. "They're cut off, damn it!" He didn't respond. "Do something!" No response. "Damn it."

Then, Rick was gone, moving towards the front of the car. He wasn't perfectly clear on what, exactly, he intended to do, but he knew he intended to do something to help the soldiers trapped in that building. He moved to Judith, buckling her into her seat at the front of the car before heading to the controls and booting up the car.

He heard Gregory's shout - "Rick, what the hell are you doing?" - of combined anger and fear, but he ignored it in favor of doing it. It, in this case, happened to be the crazy, potentially suicidal mission of ignoring Gregory's orders and attempts to stop him, driving the APC into the wall of the building hard enough to break in, and saving the marines within. Gregory might actually have succeeded in stopping him, but Shane - good old Shane - breaks in ("You had your chance, Gregory." ) and joins him in the copilot seat.

Rick couldn't keep an eye on the cameras and drive at the same time, but he heard Dixon giving orders to the others - "Almost there, Merle. C'mon, Abraham, move it!" - just as Rick pushed on the accelerator, slamming through the wall. Rick could see the marines standing just outside: Merle seemingly relying heavily on one arm slung over Dixon's shoulders to stand, Rosita and Abraham still shooting with their smart guns, Dixon keeping the group moving towards the vehicle.

Merle's voice was first to come over the headset. "Way's blocked. Gotta go 'round."

Rick turned to Shane. "Go open the door!" His old - current? - partner nodded and left, so Rick turned to the headset again. "Dixon!"

Dixon shouted in turn, looking back at his teammate as he said, "Abraham! We gotta go!" He didn't turn around again until the two members of their party at the rear were moving towards the APC as well.

The Dixon brothers were the first to make it inside, with Dixon hastily situating Merle in a seat before returning to the door to help Rosita and Abraham. She arrived next, struggling to get herself and her gear inside, leaving Rick watching with literal bated breath… But, in the next second, Dixon was helping haul her inside, and both watched anxiously for Abraham to come.

Rick couldn't see where Abraham was, but he heard Rosita shout for him to hurry up, so he twisted in his seat until he could see into the back section of the car. Dixon was still helping Rosita up, and she hadn't yet regained her balance, when she saw something on the outside of the car that made her blanch and raise her gun. Seconds later, she fired, the force of the gun combining with their precarious position nearly sending both her and Dixon to the floor, though he'd managed to brace her enough that it didn't happen.

Instead, she let out a heart-rending scream - echoed by a louder, male's scream from outside of the vessel - and fire flew into the APC. Both Dixon and Rosita dodged, sinking to the floor as Merle shouted, "Fire in the hole!", and Shane grabbed the emergency fire extinguisher to use on the flames.

Rick could see Dixon looking between the fire and the fire extinguisher, clearly tempted to try to stop the blaze before being distracted by Rosita. She was shouting in Spanish, trying to shove her way out of the vehicle and closer to what Rick presumed was Abraham's body; Dixon was trying to keep her back, foot braced against the doorway, and she clearly was not making it easy on him.

Eventually, Dixon managed to spin them around so that they faced one another, making direct eye contact. "'M sorry, Rosita. But he's gone. Ya hear me? He's gone." She didn't nod or speak, but she relaxed a little, sagging against the wall with tear tracks visible on her face.

Dixon turned to the door, fighting to get it closed, so Rick turned back to the steering controls. He had barely gotten started before a loud clang sounded from the back, and he whirled again, looking back to see that one of the aliens had gotten between the door and the frame, keeping it open with vicious claws. Dixon turned, shouting to the others for help, and both Rosita and Merle were by his side in seconds.

The alien opened its mouth, hissing and allowing its second jaw to show, and Rick stilled, frozen, at the sound. It was terrifying and familiar and he wanted it gone, so he was glad when Dixon used the temporary reprieve to reach down, grabbing his temporarily abandoned crossbow, slipping it between the jaws of the creature, and pulling the trigger.

Rick turned to the controls again, working the car into "drive" and setting it going. Sections of wall fell off as it moved, making steering difficult, and he already wasn't the best driver, so most of the inhabitants of the back were knocked off their feet and sent rolling around on the floor. Judith, who had evidently slipped out of her seat and moved to the back, wasn't, as she was safely pinned in a corner between two pieces of furniture, and Dixon wasn't, but the others, clearly unused to staying upright through rough vehicle travel, were.

Rick turned his attention back to the road, focusing on ignoring the literal flames scorching the top of the car and the squeal of rubber as they drove. A clatter sounded from the back, but Rick didn't bother to turn around, too focused on getting them the hell out of there.

He was so focused, in fact, that he nearly didn't notice the alien perched on top of the vehicle, missing it until it broke the glass with its inner jaw and sent its tail whipping about the APC's cabin. Rick sent his foot slamming onto the pedal, stopping the car suddenly enough that the alien was sent flying off the back. He couldn't let it live - literally, couldn't… his mind was shouting at him to go back and kill it and ignoring it simply wasn't an option - so he reversed, driving over it once before continuing on their way again.

Rick plowed through the garage door to the facility, soaring out and into the rocky, desert-like terrain outside. He didn't let up on the pedal - couldn't let up on the pedal - and so they continued accelerating. He ignored the resulting weird, grating, metal-on-metal sound - it was unimportant… the aliens were coming… people had died… they couldn't die, too - hoping it would go away, but it didn't.

He only stopped when he became aware of a familiar presence at his right side, when he noticed Dixon telling him, "It's a'ight; we're clear! Grimes, you've blown the transaxle. Yer just grindin' metal. Ease down, man." He kept talking, voice low and calming. "Ease down, Grimes. Ease down." Slowly, Rick let the car roll to a halt, trying to catch his breath. The APC finally stopped just as Dixon spoke for a final time, his words echoing into the silent car.

"We're clear."