AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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Carol carried her own sack off the bus. Like everyone else, she was dressed in her newly issued uniform. In her sack she had packed exactly what they'd told her to pack, which was essentially everything she owned and a few items that were dropped off by an officer for each inmate that was being relocated.

For a brief moment, as she stepped down off the bus's bottom step and stood in a rough line with the others who were waiting to be escorted into the high fences surrounding the community—their new home—Carol was technically free. At least, she guessed it was probably the closest to free that she'd ever be again, especially if the project fell through. The freedom afforded them nothing, though. Immediately there were officers who came out of the gates and greeted them. They ushered them inside and took them out of the care of those officers who had ridden with them from Region Thirty Three.

Carol didn't really know what she expected, but like most times in her life when she'd felt that way, she'd known that what she was seeing simply wasn't it. She shuffled inside with the others, almost feeling lost in the bunch, to see that their new home was somewhat akin to the gated housing communities that had existed before the turn. The homes that would be theirs, she assumed, were modest and appeared to be newly constructed. At first glance, she'd imagine each to be a two bedroom—maybe three. From where she was standing, Carol could also see that there were some larger, nicer homes within the walls as well, but she imagined they were reserved for the officers and such that would be staying with them.

It felt very different than Region Thirty Three. And Carol had spent so long as a prisoner, in the truest sense of the word, that it almost felt wrong.

Carol shifted her sack, heavy because she was unaccustomed to wearing it, and only then did she become aware that Daryl had come up behind her. He threaded his fingers under the strap of the bag and lifted slightly to lessen the weight just a little.

"Want me to take it?" He asked, keeping his voice low enough that it wouldn't draw the attention of anyone.

Carol shook her head at him. She wasn't going to be one of the only ones that showed up to something like this acting helpless enough that she couldn't carry her own bag. After all, she'd carried far more than that before she was captured.

People continued to spill through the gates and join Carol's group in the middle of something akin to a cul-de-sac. Outside of the fences, Carol could hear the hum and rumble of buses as they pulled up to unload their passengers and drove off. She didn't know how many, at the end of the day, would be coming to take part in the project, but there were certainly more than a few of them that had been chosen.

"Can I have your attention?" The woman they knew as Samirah called. "Excuse me? Your attention please?"

It didn't take more than a modest request to get their attention. Everyone there was trained that, when a voice of authority spoke, they'd better be quiet and they'd better listen. They were still unaware of the types of punishment that would be used here, but they could imagine that they would only be a little nicer than those employed elsewhere—and that's if they were nicer at all.

"Welcome," Samirah said. "Welcome to your new home. Welcome to the site of the Wave Thirty Three project. It's a big day for all of us. For you especially. Today is the first day in the assimilation project. It's the first step toward freedom for, we hope, all wilds. And you guys? You're the first. You're the groundbreakers."

The future of society rests on your shoulders.

Maybe her words weren't quite so dramatic, but Carol felt that they weren't far from that. She listened lazily as Samirah gave a grand welcoming speech. There was no need to pay close attention because it covered nothing that they hadn't been told before. It covered nothing that they hadn't heard and asked questions about in the meetings that were set up with them before.

This was their home. The project would strive to prove that wilds could be successfully assimilated into society. They could become productive citizens. In steps—in waves—they would be given more and more freedom. They would be given more and more responsibility to go with it. Proving that they could do what was asked of them, while also behaving like the human beings that the government doubted them to be, would keep them moving forward. And, eventually, it would earn them all absolute freedom. Eventually, if they were successful, all of them would be truly and completely free, once again.

Carol might have landed herself the description of skeptic, but she was holding tight to the belief that she'd believe it when she saw it. She did believe that this was the only chance that they were getting at freedom, and she did believe that if they failed at this the government wouldn't hesitate to execute possibly thousands of innocent people, but she wasn't entirely sure she believed that they would actually be able to earn their freedom.

Maybe she simply failed to trust the government—especially now that she knew that they'd very likely taken the life of her daughter, directly or indirectly—but she was skeptical enough that she wasn't going to buy in all the way until she saw some kind of proof that what they were hearing weren't just pretty words that would be withdrawn, later, when it really mattered.

Samirah's speech droned on long enough that Carol started to grow impatient with standing on the asphalt and listening. But, like everyone else, she minded herself and remained as still as she could. This was the first day and this was their first impression. And they were reminded, lest they forget, that there was always a bus parked right outside the gates that would take them back to Region Thirty Three the minute that it seemed they were no longer a good fit for the project.

Samirah's speech finally drew to a close, though, and then she was replaced by an overweight officer that reminded Carol of some actor she'd once seen on television. He was laughably overweight, especially considering the fact that most of them had once, literally, run for their lives. But comical or not, they had to give him the same respect and attention that they'd give anyone.

The "Wave" Community, as he called their new home, was considered something like an outpost of Region Thirty Three. The rules were different—and he ticked them off far too quickly before promising that each inmate would receive a written record of them—but it was still a prison. At least, it was still a prison until they'd earned the right for it to be otherwise. The smaller houses that were practically cookie cutter row houses, much like Carol had guessed, would be their homes. They would be expected to inhabit them with another inmate. They could, if they filed a request, change their housemate at any time—assuming that their request was accepted and honored. Today they would be put into houses. They would be given the opportunity to choose their housemate, but if they had no one to choose then someone would be simply elected for them.

Carol didn't ignore the feeling of Daryl's hand tightening around the upper part of her arm in the crowd. She imagined that was his way of requesting that they try to live together, but he didn't communicate the request verbally. She also assumed that he was under the impression that they may have to physically fight for their placements, and he wasn't losing track of her in the brawl that might ensue. Carol, on the other hand, thought that things would be much more organized. That was one thing she could give them until this point—everything was meticulously organized.

Officer Waddles, as Carol had mentally dubbed the man, went on to tell them that there would be ten officers living within the community at all times. Five would be on guard and five would be off. In addition, for the earliest parts of the project, there would be several other officers that would come to the community on buses to run patrols. Every house had a phone line. All the lines would go to a central office. They were to be used to call, in case of an emergency of any kind, the officers that were on duty. They could also be used to call others within the community, but through something like an old-time operating board where they'd have to request the connection they wanted to make.

There would also be one man, apparently, that would be living in the community and had never been a prisoner. The man would serve as something of a figurehead—someone to look up to—for all of them, but he was there, as Officer Waddles explained, because he'd requested placement there. Carol couldn't imagine why he would want such a position—living among officers and potentially wild creatures—but she also didn't really care about the man's presence. They learned about him, though, as something of a warning, Carol felt. They were to respect him. They were to respect his space and his presence.

He would be one of the individuals responsible for judging just how tame and human they all were when nobody was looking—except there was always someone looking.

Men to the left. Women to the right.

Was it sheep to the left? Goats to the right? It didn't matter. They were being sorted, and they were being cast to their fate, but they were all going the same place. Here? They were all equal.

Carol purposefully put herself next to Michonne and Andrea. Lisette had come with them, but she'd been pushed back in the crowd. Carol could see her, but she was too far away to huddle with them without causing a scene as she worked her way through the people.

"If you've got someone you want to house with," Officer Waddles was yelling, "then find them now. Step over there. You'll be escorted to a house. If you don't have a preference? Stay where you are! You'll be given a housemate for the first night. Requests for housing changes will be accepted in the morning."

Carol stood on her tiptoes and looked over the people around her to search Daryl out of the crowd of men. There was a little pushing and shoving, mostly brought on by the proximity and the fact that some people were moving while others weren't, but Carol finally broke free from the bunch and found the man she was searching for. Daryl caught her arm, not saying anything because they both understood what they were doing, and he pulled her forward and through the crowd so that they could move to the area they needed to be in for housing.

Behind her, Andrea and Michonne fought their way through the crowd. She heard a few spat curses that she assumed might have come from Andrea and someone she collided with, and then they finally burst out of the bunch and made their way, too, toward those waiting to be housed—everyone clinging desperately to their housemate of choice.

Before they could reach the place, though, another officer was coming forward and waving her hands at them. Carol braced herself to hear why she and Daryl would be separated—the show already beginning—but the officer bypassed them entirely. She stopped Andrea and Michonne. Carol felt her stomach roll, knowing what she had to say to them without even hearing it, but she never actually heard the officer's words as she ushered the women back toward the crowd because Daryl, following an officer that was responsible for finding them a house, was already pulling her in another direction.

Here, as in Region Thirty Three, there was no time for stalling.

And tonight, they were going to a place they had no choice but to call home.