Walkers would always be an issue in our new world. Always. So I wasn't shocked when we learned that there was a quarry nearby serving as the world's worst fishbowl.

After the night of no return, when Reg and Pete met their ends, we tried to find a new normal. Daryl and Dad butted heads, even with or especially because Daryl showed up with Morgan beside him. Dad wanted to halt recruitment. Daryl wanted to keep it up.

Dad had housed Morgan in the empty house that Deanna had placed him after his brawl with the good doctor. Prior to having her approval to ventilate his skull, that is.

Pete, an asshole if I'd ever heard of one, was denied a community burial. And that's how Dad, and recently released Morgan, had come to find the quarry. They came back, with news and a plan. Dad insisted I sit in on it. He was trying, I could clearly see, to get me involved again. Back to the good old days, where I didn't have to pretend I cared.

I listened to the plan, which seemed solid, if nothing went wrong. I heard the volunteers give not only approval, but willing bodies to throw in the line of fire or teeth. Divert the herd west, away from Alexandria. Simple, right? Eugene added the need for a wall, where a crucial intersection apparently was. I'd have to leave that to the experts, or at least to people who paid attention to our surroundings. Carter, a whiny little toad if I'd had to guess, was given that important task.

And the entire community, like an old fashioned barn raising, but with greater chance of death, came out to help. I offered Carol help with refreshments. Why not? We were obviously the most alike of this entire group.

Walkers, again, a constant threat, showed up for the party. And Dad, trying to prove his point to an extreme level, warned all of us his original group to back off, it was time for Alexandrians to defend Alexandria. Morgan, after seeing Carter freeze faster than a drip of water in the arctic, stepped up and took care of the 'threat'.

As the time grows near for the plan to go through, Dad lines up his volunteers at the finish line, and I stay back. This is not my part to play. I have another safer role.

Carol bakes. A lot. And after a trip to the community pantry, I sit with her in the kitchen and keep her company. We looking out the window when we see something so fucking surreal that it takes both of us a few beats to make it make sense in our heads. A neighbor woman, standing outside for a smoke, is ambushed by a horrible man wielding a machete. And as we're transfixed by the impossibility, he finishes the job and runs off.

Sharing a look, we both call up to Carl and when he pops his head around, we order him to stay inside, keep Judith safe and lock the damn doors.

Together, outside, Carol and I watch these new enemies. I know we're both seeing the same thing and making a similar plan. We're that much alike, right? I know she's taken note of how they look. How they seem to be marking their foreheads with fresh blood in the shape of a "W". And as we part, going separate directions, I know that she'll be finding a way to camouflage herself, because I already am.

The killing of savages, walker or human, comes back to me like riding a bike. Or breathing. Natural. And I don't flinch as I cut each one that I come across down. Or when I put a member of the community out of their misery. Consequences for one, mercy for the other. I'd taken one of the beast's ugly poncho for my own, and my forehead had his blood in that ugly sign.

When I found Carol again, there was a second of danger for both of us, until we took a beat and nodded. I had been right, she'd done the same as me. I watched as she saved Morgan, and then she led the way to the armory. Olivia, the woman who kept track of supplies looked like we were there to kill her, which meant our disguises worked.

As Carol loaded up a duffel full of weapons and ammo, I took the time to give Olivia the briefest, but most concise firearm training ever. Showing her how to release the safety, point it, and shoot. And telling her, as I followed Carol out, to shoot anyone who came inside.

Carol killed a prisoner that Morgan felt the urge to take. He shot me a look, and I backed her up. This was NOT the time for amnesty.

By the time everything was quiet again, or mostly quiet. Carnage was everywhere. And I was reminded that there was no magical safety zone. That nowhere was safe.

When a call goes up that Dad is heading back, I rush toward the gate. He barely makes it inside, the herd hard on his heels, but he swears to me, as he sees me in front of him that he's SURE that Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham will be heading back to continue the plan. But until then, as the walkers are heard growling and thrashing against the gate, we're to keep the lights off or low, and the noise to a minimum.

I hear that there was an attempt at looting. That Deanna's surviving son put a stop to it.

I try to find Maggie. She should be here. She hadn't signed up for any of the mess that had been planned. When I find her, she looks terrified, and upset. Which, learning that Glenn is MIA makes sense. But then, holding my hand and staring into my face the real reason comes out. She's pregnant. And as I hug her and try to reassure her, she tries to find humor by telling me that she accidentally told Aaron first.

While we wait for Glenn to return, for Daryl, Sasha, Abraham to show back up. I watch as Dad takes Jessie's son Ron under his tutelage for gun training. Rosita offers machete lessons. And Dad insists on added supports for the newly built wall.

And then, just as things seemed to grow slightly quieter, the watchtower fell, taking down part of the perimeter wall. And another swarm of walkers rushing forward. While Dad orders sheltering in place with the doors locked, I'm visiting Jessie. Forcing myself to reintegrate with the world, and letting Judith see the inside of a different house, I'm there when Dad carries Deanna inside. She's been injured, and as I'm checking her wound, I find it. The bite. And we all know.

Deanna takes death better than she'd taken the other harsh realities of this world. She smiles. She makes jokes. Hell, she even banters when Dad nearly shoots her as she's hovering over Judith's crib.

And as we're watching, the locks don't hold. The walkers rush inside, and we're trapped upstairs with a dying Deanna, and a couch blocking the stairs. Dad, assessing the situation, makes a plan so gross that I want to vomit, but if it keeps Judith safe I'm game. Killing two walkers, and cutting into them, we create our very own meat suits. Covering sheets with the gloppy insides of the undead, then covering our clothes and heads with the sheets, we should be able to get away.

I've tucked Judith under my shirt, against my skin, hoping that she'll understand the need for quiet somehow. And I tugged the sheet over top of me, wanting to retch at the smell enveloping me. Michonne had given Deanna a gun, offering to do it for her, but giving in when she insisted she'd do it. And then, covered in gore and gross, we walked downstairs and outside, into the middle of the mass of dead.

The growling and stumbling jostled us, but eventually we made it to the armory. Sam, Jessie's youngest had incessantly called for her, and I'd been sure we'd be caught, but we made it. Dad asked Gabriel to keep me and Judith safe, cutting off any argument I may have made. And while Jessie tried to convince Sam to stay with me, he wouldn't, and they all left. Headed for the quarry, I sat in the church, cradling Judith and soothing her after our tent of stink was gone. The growling was growing closer, and I knew they were piling up again outside, but Gabriel shocked me. He picked up a machete, and with Tobin who'd found sanctuary inside with us, rushed out to help.

It grew quiet after what seemed like days. And once I was certain the danger was manageable if not passed, I opened the doors. And Michonne was rushing toward me. The news was terrible. Carl had been shot. Again. We rushed to the infirmary, where she took Judith from me and I walked inside. Daryl was being stitched on his back on one side, and Carl lay unconscious on the other. And I stood between them, feeling the temptation of the darkness of nowhere beckon to me to come back.