"It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone."
― John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent

Rick finally slept better that night, although it was a dreamless sleep. He lay on his side hugging Judith to his chest while, this time, it was Carl who lay awake staring at the ceiling. After all the good moments the group had experienced in the last two days, and considering all the bad they've been experiencing for what felt like forever, Carl couldn't feel as if he could mention to his father the doubts he was feeling. He couldn't bring himself to share the feeling of dread in his stomach, as if the other shoe was about to drop. He still believed there were good people in the world and there was still a chance the world could get better; maybe not tomorrow or even a year from now, but eventually, if they all survived to see it happen. It was just from personal experience in his young life during this apocalypse, everything good that happened didn't last long. It was only a matter of time before it fell apart. He wanted his father to believe he was okay and not as jaded as he was, so Carl said nothing, although it still ate at him sometimes, like this moment which was keeping him awake.

Rolling over to his side, he slid off the bed and quietly, as not to wake his father or sister, Carl crept out of the bedroom and made his way down the hallway to the stairs; silent as the grave. He looked around, inspecting each room downstairs. Daryl and Noah were out cold in the living room and Gabriel and Eugene were just as asleep in the family room off the kitchen. The latter was snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Carl was surprised Gabriel wasn't up because of it. Turning back toward the foyer, he stopped when he saw a figure seated at a desk in the den.

Peering inside, he watched the flicker of a candle flame illuminate Georgie's face as she hunched forward, looking at something on the desk's surface.

"Hey," Carl called out in a whisper.

Georgie snapped her head up and smiled when she saw him. "Hey," she repeated. "What're you still doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Like father, like son it would seem," she chuckled.

Carl shrugged. "My dad's asleep right now."

"He wasn't last night. Couldn't sleep then," she informed. "He had too much on his mind, I guess. Do you have too much on your mind?"

"Sorta."

Georgie gestured to the small sofa against the wall for him to take a seat. "Wanna talk about it?"

Carl shrugged again. "Not really," he answered, sitting down, pushing a pillow out of the way. "What are you looking at?"

Smiling, Georgie lifted up her son's drawing and her kids' pictures as an answer.

"You miss them a lot, don't you?"

"Very badly," Georgie nodded. "I lost my hope there for a while, but finding this picture renewed it. I just…I'm not a religious woman, never have been, but I pray to God that my son survived leaving this place, this house, and that he is still out there surviving in the world, wherever he may be."

"How did your daughter die?" Carl didn't know the full story and he was interested.

Georgie wasn't really in the mood to divulge the details again. "My brother got bit and never told me. I left my daughter near him and he turned and bit her."

"Did you put them both down?" he asked sympathetically.

Georgie nodded. "Yeah, and it's nothing I wish on anyone."

"Where was your husband? Did he die?"

She narrowed her gaze and smirked at Carl. "You sure are nosy tonight," she teased.

"Sorry. You don't have to answer."

Georgie shook it off. "It's okay," she assured. "My husband left to go to Atlanta without us. He didn't think our son was alive and I wanted to stay in our home and wait it out a while longer."

"So he could be alive, too, like your son?"

"Well, I did find his truck with the keys still in the ignition and the door open. There was blood on the ground and on the door, so I don't really know. I don't know who the blood belonged to; him or a walker or someone else entirely."

"Do you hope he's alive? I mean, he walked out on you and your daughter died. He wasn't there to protect her or you." He shrugged. "I'd wish he was dead."

She sighed, looking down at the pictures of her children. "Sometimes I do, I really do. The longer it is that I've seen him and the more I think about how our daughter might've lived had he stayed, I really wish he was dead. But then I feel guilty for feeling like that."

"You shouldn't," Carl insisted. "A good husband would stick with his family and protect them no matter what, just like my dad."

Georgie grinned. "Your dad is definitely a good man and he does a good job at holding everyone together and keeping us safe. Sometimes the people we're with might die, like they have, but sometimes it's beyond our control and I know your dad takes it to heart. We all do. We just need to let him know it's not his fault when bad things like that happen and the weight of the world doesn't need to be on his shoulders."

Carl nodded in agreement, letting out a yawn. "Yeah."

Georgie stood up and gestured to the boy. "Why don't you lay down there? Use the pillow. I'll go grab a blanket," she suggested. "You're a growing boy who needs his rest."

"Okay."

Walking up to Carl, Georgie propped the pillow up for him and then placed a hand to his head and he smiled up at her before she turned to walk away.

"Georgie," he whispered.

"Hmm?" she looked over her shoulder at him.

"Can you…can you stay here till I fall asleep?"

Georgie smiled and nodded. "Sure. Let me go get that blanket and I'll be right back."

Turning back around, Georgie stepped out of the den and almost jumped out of her skin when someone reached their hand out and grabbed onto her wrist. She reached for her hunting knife on instinct and spun, pushing whoever it was up against the wall, pressing the blade near their neck.

"Whoa, hey," Rick said, grabbing at her other hand holding the knife and pulling it away, which was easy when she realized it was him and sighed with relief.

"Oh, god, sorry," she whispered. "You scared me."

"You weren't the one with a blade to your throat," he quipped. He gestured toward the den with his thumb as she sheathed her knife. "I heard you in there with Carl."

"I think something's bothering him," she continued to whisper so Carl wouldn't hear them. "He doesn't seem to want to talk about it. Maybe it's just growing pains." She shrugged. "Your son thinks very highly of you, in case you didn't hear that while you were eavesdropping."

Rick grinned. "I did…hear that." He brought a finger up to his face and scratched an itch on his nose. "I guess I should add 'a shoulder to lean on' to the list of things I'm grateful for you doing."

"It's no big deal," she maintained. She smiled back up at him. "I do gotta go find a blanket for him. I said I was going to find one for him."

Slowly, she backed away from Rick but he stopped her, by grabbing both her hands and pulling her back toward him. They looked at each other and exchanged no words. Rick simply tilted his head slightly and kissed her again. It felt like her heart had leapt out of her chest and butterflies fluttered mercilessly in her stomach.

Rick almost felt the urge to suggest she share a bed with him tonight, since Carl was gonna sleep in the den, but Rick was a gentleman, through and through. Whatever was going on between him and Georgie was not something he wanted to rush into and possibly ruin.

He let her go with a smile, and he watched her touch her fingers to her lips as she wandered away. Waiting a few moments to gather himself, he turned into den and leaned against the door frame, about to say something to his son, only to find Carl had already fallen asleep while waiting for the blanket. Smirking, Rick turned back out of the room and headed back upstairs to the master bedroom where he had Judith encircled by a bunch of pillows on the bed so she wouldn't fall off in her sleep.

Georgie had fallen asleep on the floor beneath the sofa in the den Carl was sleeping on. She woke up only when she smelled some sort of meat cooking; the smell was wafting into the room and it stirred her awake. She sat up and looked to her left to see Carl was still in dreamland. As she rub the crust from her eyes and slowly got to her feet, she placed a hand to her back and winced; sleeping on the hard floor had not been comfortable at all and she'd slept in some shitty locations before. Aside from the smell of meat, there was also the sound of drills coming from underneath the floor that she was just now recognizing, which meant several of the others were also awake and back at trying to get that mystery door opened in the basement.

Stepping out into the foyer, she had a clear view of Daryl crouched down in the living room in front of the fireplace. He had rigged up some sort of spit over the flames and was roasting the squirrels and rabbits he'd brought back the night before from his day-long hunting trip. Sauntering into the living room, she plopped down onto the side of the wraparound couch, opposite to wear Noah was still asleep with his long legs dangling off the edge.

"Smells pretty good," Georgie mentioned to the archer.

Daryl looked over his shoulder at her and nodded. "Should be good eatin' too."

"Never been a fan of squirrel, before or after this apocalypse, but rabbits are decent."

"There's more fat on 'em, that's why. More flavor."

"What I'd give for some ketchup or barbecue sauce."

Daryl smirked. "A1 steak sauce," he specified.

Georgie nodded, feeling her stomach gurgle. "Alright, you're making me hungry now."

"They'll be done in a little bit. Why don't you open up some canned goods and we'll have a bigger breakfast."

"Good idea," she replied, getting back up off the couch.

She wandered off toward the kitchen and looked at all the cans that were gathered up on the table. She grabbed a few cans of corn which seemed the most in abundance, as well as the only two cans of chili. An idea struck her as she brought all the cans over to the kitchen counter and found a small pot. After opening the cans and dumping the contents into the pot, she brought it into the living room and set it beside Daryl.

"Pull the meat off the bones," she said. "We'll add it to this."

Daryl glanced inside the pot and back up at her, making a wary face. "The fuck's in there?"

"Chili and corn. It'll be good, I swear," she promised. "It'll be heartier; it'll stick to our innards." She grinned at him and watched as he shrugged. "Can you put this over the fire after the meat is done roasting, to warm up the pot?"

"Yeah," Daryl acquiesced. "Give it here."

As he took the pot and moved it between his knees, Georgie stood up and placed a hand to his shoulder in thanks before heading back to the kitchen. Maggie had just walked into the kitchen then and looked unnerved about something, which caught Georgie's attention.

"What's wrong?" she asked the younger woman.

Maggie pushed some damp hair behind her ear. She must've just showered not long before as she did also look refreshed and was dressed in a different outfit from the day before; a loose, white short-sleeved shirt and a pair of grey jeans. "There's blood."

"What?"

"I got angry about…about Beth, my dad," Maggie began saying. "I lifted my mattress and tossed it, and that's when I noticed there was this huge blood stain on the underside of it. You could tell someone tried cleaning it up, and someone obviously turned it over to hide the stain. And it just got me thinking about this house. This is a good house, right? Why would anyone leave it? It's secure, there's plenty of room; just like Rick said when we first got here two days ago. But now there's that door downstairs. Someone…or some people tried covering something up that happened here, I think." Maggie shrugged. "I don't know if it's just me, maybe I've just become pessimistic. Or maybe there's something wrong with this place. I just—I have this feeling in my gut…"

Georgie watched as Maggie placed a hand to her stomach and frowned. "Well, this house didn't have food in it. The people who lived here originally probably left to find some, and probably never came back. Maybe the blood is from them, maybe someone got bit and their family member had to shoot them," she suggested. "Rick and I found a woman dead in her bed yesterday at that other house and the husband or whoever he was to her was in one of the two cars at the end of that driveway with some supplies and a gun. There was also a little girl's room, but no little girl. Things happened here, but I think it's gonna be fine for us."

"I've been thinking also about your son. How he was here. What if that blood was from when he was here? What if something bad happened here and that's why him and the people he was obviously with left?" Maggie looked apologetic when she noticed how Georgie's face soured at the thought. "I'm sorry; I'm being too dark and grim. I know—I'm sorry. I've just lost so much recently and it's taking me to some dark places in my head and it doesn't make me much fun to be around."

Georgie offered a supportive smile. "It's alright." She stepped forward and hugged Maggie and the younger woman seemed glad of the gesture. "I've been in those dark places, too. We all have. It's just part of the grief process."

Maggie leaned back. "I feel bad, though, acting like this over losing my dad and sister, when you, Carol and, I think, Michonne have lost your children. I feel like my grief shouldn't trump yours."

"Loss is loss, and grief is grief." Georgie placed a hand on Maggie's shoulder. "Mine isn't any more important than yours, just because I'm a mother. They're not like physical scars."

Maggie nodded. "I should—I should probably turn the mattress back over. I don't want Glenn getting worried about me."

Georgie offered a smile. "Daryl and I got some food going for breakfast that should be ready soon if you wanna tell any others you find awake upstairs."

"Will do."

Maggie left the kitchen and Georgie dug through the cabinets for the plates she and Carol had cleaned the night before and set them on the counter. She grabbed a ladle out of a drawer so everyone could scoop out their own helpings of food when it was ready, and then she also began pulling out cups so everyone could drink. The only option was water and the weak Kool-Aid she had made two nights ago for Carl and Noah. They were saving the powdered milk for Judith. After puttering around for a few more minutes, Daryl walked into the kitchen with the pot and set it gracelessly down upon the counter next to the sink.

"Breakfast is served," he commented to her.

As he began to stalk off away from the kitchen, Georgie frowned quizzically. "Aren't you gonna have any?"

"I'm gonna grab a shower. I haven't since we got here." He turned slightly to look at her. "Save me a plate."

Walking toward the basement door, Georgie opened it up and called down, "There's some food ready for breakfast." She then went to the den and gave the sleeping Carl a gentle shove to his shoulder. When he stirred awake, she said softly to him with a laugh, "There's some rabbit and squirrel chili."

Carl made a face.

"I know it sounds gross but it'll be good, I swear."

She then left the boy alone to get up as his own leisure before walking into the living room to nudge Noah's leg and tell him food was ready as well. By the time she got back to the kitchen, Eugene, Glenn and Rosita were there, divvying out their own portions; making sure to not be greedy so there was enough for everyone.

"What is this?" Eugene asked.

"Chili and corn with squirrel and rabbit meat that Daryl roasted in the fireplace," Georgie replied.

Instead of helping herself to a plate, she turned and went upstairs to the room she had shared with Carol the first night. Carol wasn't in the room so Georgie assumed the older woman was either in one of the bathrooms or she was one of the people down in the basement. Her focus then turned to wondering who had Judith and ducked off into the master bedroom Rick and his kids had been using. Inside, she found Michonne changing Judith's diaper on the floor.

Georgie smiled. "Breakfast is ready. I know it's gonna seem gross, but—"

"We have no right to be picky," Michonne interrupted. She looked up at Georgie with a smirk. "As long as it's edible and don't kill any of us, I'm sure it'll be fine."

Georgie let out a chuckle and then nodded to Judith. "Want me to finish up here so you can get something to eat?"

"Yeah, actually, could you? I wanna wash up a bit before I go downstairs." Michonne stood up. Judith had a new diaper on – from a pack that had been found on the supply run the day before – and just needed a new onesie pulled on. "Thanks."

"No prob."

Michonne ducked into the master bath, since no one else was using it, which left Georgie alone in the bedroom with Judith. On top of the dresser was a few of the clothes she had found for the little girl in the other house and grabbed the onesie she'd taken off the teddy bear. It was white and pink striped with a flowery collar and a matching flowery bustle at the hips and one little flower decal over her the chest. It was adorable and reminded her of something her daughter had worn as a baby. Pulling it over a wiggling Judith's head and pulling her little arms through the holes, she snapped it closed at the crotch and then smiled over the girl, giving her belly a tickle.

For whatever reason, she looked to her left, at the foot of the mattress and she was suddenly thinking about the conversation she'd had with Maggie about the bloody mattress in Maggie and Glenn's room. Judith was safe on the floor, so Georgie walked around the side of the bed and crouched to grab at the bottom of the mattress and lift it up with all her might.

Peering at the darkness of the underside of the mattress, her eyes focused on the very large, dark stain and she immediately dropped the mattress back down.

She picked up Judith and went off toward Maggie's room and knocked on the door.

Maggie answered almost immediately and smiled a little upon seeing Judith. "Hey cutie," she said to the little girl.

"The mattress in the master bedroom has a similar blood stain under it."

Maggie looked Georgie in the eye and frowned. "It's either a sad coincidence or—"

"—Or not." Georgie suddenly felt that same pang of dread Carl had been mentioning; that a shoe was about to drop.

"It's probably a coincidence," Maggie tried to insist, though she didn't seem quite sure of herself.

"Yeah, probably." Georgie smiled half-heartedly. "Breakfast is ready."

"Okay."

Breakfast was, as Georgie had hoped, surprisingly delicious. The ingredients went well together and everyone seemed content. The main discussion around the dining room table was for a small group to try another supply run. Apparently, Daryl had spotted a golf course and country club on the other side of the woods during his hunting expedition the day before, and he offered to go check it out with whomever else wanted to join him. Georgie assumed him offering to go away on supply runs, staying outside to keep watch of the property and going off hunting was part of his grieving process. Not that he was sociable person to begin with, but he just seemed more detached from the group than usual. Abraham and Tyreese had been the muscle who were doing the most grunt work at trying to remove the deadbolts from the door and had only two left now that they had working, battery-operated power tools. Rick had been down there with them, as was Glenn, Carol, Rosita and Sasha. The latter four were down in the basement mostly out of curiosity.

Also, there was a pool table and a dart board.

When Noah heard about the pool table, he joined the group in the basement and Eugene went as well. Gabriel offered to help clean up the dishes for Georgie while she took Judith into the den with her. She set the little girl down on the floor, with the tiny stuffed teddy bear she had swiped from the other house, so Judith had something to play with, and then she sat back down at the desk to look at her son's drawing and the pictures of both children.

Michonne and Tara had gone off a short time later with Daryl, and barely ten seconds after the trio left, Carl wandered into the den with some comic books he'd brought down from the bedroom Tyreese and Sasha had been sleeping in.

"Which ones you got?" Georgie asked.

"Spider-Man."

"Who's your favorite superhero?"

Carl grinned as he sat down on the den sofa. "Iron Man, probably," he replied. "He has all the cool stuff."

As Georgie smiled at his response, she saw Maggie hurrying into the living room and start to pull up the cushions. Knitting her brow together, Georgie got up and asked Carl to keep an eye on Judith. She then left the den, crossed the foyer and went into the living room. She was about to ask Maggie what she was doing when she saw for herself what the issue was.

The undersides of all the cushions were stained in blood.

Maggie turned around and looked at Georgie, holding one of the cushions in her hand. "Every mattress upstairs and downstairs, and also the cushions in the family room; they're soaked in dried blood on the bottoms. It looks like a massacre; like people were butchered while they slept judging by the amount of blood."

Georgie found this to be reasonably disturbing. "I think we should tell Rick about this. If someone murdered a bunch of people here, and then hid the evidence, who's to say they won't come back here?"

Maggie nodded. "We definitely need to tell Rick."

Both women walked out of the living room to the door that led down to the basement, with Maggie still holding onto the cushion to show Rick and the others about her findings.

While they were approaching the bottom stairs, Abraham had removed the last deadbolt and Tyreese and Rick had managed to get the hinges off the door. The big reveal was moments away as Rick looked over at the others and then turned the handle.

The door was hard to pull open; probably from the changing of the weather or humidity which caused the door to stick in its frame. With some elbow grease, Rick pulled it open with a flurry and he, as well as anyone standing close to the door, was hit with an overwhelming odor that brought tears to the eyes as well as inciting the gag reflex.

"Holy shit," Abraham muttered, covering his nose. "That smells like vomit and diarrhea had a baby."

Rick blinked the sting of the stench out of his eyes repeatedly and tried to just breathe through his mouth, but even then it felt like he was tasting it. "Someone hand me a flashlight."

Carol turned one on and passed it to him. When he got it in hand, he aimed it inside the room and immediately took a step back.

"Shit."

"What is it?" Noah wondered. "Bunch of dead rats or something?"

Abraham peered inside over Rick's shoulder. "It's a bunch of dead something alright."

In the room, which had no windows or source of ventilation, was a pile of dead bodies; upwards of fifteen of them lying on top of one another like decayed, skeletal rag dolls. The room wasn't very big, so the amount of bodies inside seemed larger than there probably really were. If it weren't for the nauseating stench which was now permeating out into the rest of the basement, one would assume the bodies were just leftover Halloween props.

Rick scanned the flashlight over the bodies and two in particular caught his attention and broke his heart. When Tyreese noticed the same two, he looked at Rick and both men shared a look of sadness with each other. And then a look of realization hit them when they heard Georgie and Maggie entering the basement and calling out to Rick.

Rick whipped his head toward both women and felt his heart leap into his chest, and not in the good way. "Hey, uh, I don't think—" he began.

"We might have a situation with this house, Rick," Maggie cut him off, holding up the cushion. "Every mattress and every couch cushion looks like this on the bottom. There was a mass killing or something here. The blood's all dry so I don't know how long ago this happened."

"You got the door op—" Georgie noticed, and then was hit by the smell, waving her hand in front of her face. "Oh God, what is that?"

Rick stepped in front of her and blocked her from heading near the room. "It's bad in there. Trust me; you don't want to go in there."

"It smells like death," she deduced correctly.

"It is death," Eugene commented, as Rick shot him a look.

Georgie frowned. "Are there people in there?"

"Yes," Rick hesitated. "But, you don't need to see it."

His insistence irked her for some reason. "I've seen dead bodies all the time; why shouldn't I see these ones?"

"Just…trust me?"

Noah moved around and peered inside the room. He had grabbed another flashlight and shined it inside to see for himself. "Aw, man. There's kids in there."

Rick turned and looked back at the teen as if he were stupid. When he returned his gaze at Georgie, her nostrils were flaring and she looked worried, and considerably so. She pushed by Rick to see inside the room for herself, but he kept trying to get in her way.

"This is not what you need to see," he pleaded with her.

"I'm a grown woman. I can decide for myself what I need and don't need to see."

"Georgie—"

"Sayin' my name ain't gonna make me wanna see any less."

Snatching the flashlight out of Noah's hand she covered her nose and aimed the flashlight inside. When she panned over to a corner, that's when she saw the children's bodies. There were two of them and they weren't just any two children. They were wearing Cub Scout uniforms. When it registered in Georgie's mind, she dropped the flashlight as her knees buckled and her legs gave out underneath her. As he was closest to her, Noah grabbed Georgie before she fell by hooking his hands under her arms. A scream of horror and grief seemed lost in her throat as her mouth opened. She couldn't even speak; she merely inhaled and exhaled sharply as tears began falling down her cheeks in torrents.

Rick moved to take over for Noah and pull Georgie up to her feet but she reacted by shoving him and hitting him in the chest and on the arms with her fists. When Carol took a turn to look inside with the flashlight Georgie had dropped. When Carol, too, noticed the uniforms on the children's bodies, she turned toward Georgie and walked right up to her. She pulled the younger woman away from Rick, who was receiving quite the pummeling, and turned Georgie into her arms in a comforting embrace.

Carol rubbed Georgie's back soothingly and laid her head upon her shoulder. "Shh," she hushed. "I know—I know it's terrible. I know."

Abraham stepped over to the others who hadn't looked into the room and were confused by what Georgie had reacted so badly to; muttering about there being two dead boys in Cub Scout uniforms. Not everyone knew about the details about how Georgie's son went missing or what he would've been wearing, but those that did brought their hands to their mouths, and not because of the stench.

Maggie dropped the cushion to the floor and joined Carol in hugging Georgie. When Georgie couldn't hold herself up any longer, the other two women sank to the floor with her.

"My son!" Georgie suddenly and finally wailed; finding her voice again, which cracked when she added, "My son is dead."

Sobs began to rack her body and she more openly cried.

All the commotion had caught the attention of Gabriel and Carl who were still upstairs on the first floor. Carl was descending the stairs, behind the preacher, with Judith in his arms.

"What's going on?" Carl asked.

Rick turned to his son and pointed. "Go back upstairs, Carl."

"But I just want—"

"I said go back upstairs," Rick repeated more forcefully. "And take your sister with you. I won't say it again."

Carl had finally noticed the smell and he saw Georgie on the floor crying her heart out, being held by Maggie and Carol and knew something bad had happened. He would just bide his time. He could probably get Noah to tell him later if no one else was going to.

Turning around in a huff, Carl returned back to the first floor while Gabriel remained.

"What has happened?" the preacher asked of Rick.

Rick gestured for Gabriel to come near with the curl of his finger. When the other man was close enough, Rick leaned in and whispered, "Georgie's son who she's been hoping to find…he was a Cub Scout. We know he was here with some people at least six months ago. There's a bunch of dead bodies in that room and two are boys in Cub Scout uniforms."

"And her son is one of them?" Gabriel inquired, keeping his voice to a whisper as well.

Rick nodded. "It makes sense, unfortunately."

"Maybe they're different boys from a different troop," Gabriel offered; this time, his voice loud enough for Georgie to hear.

"His troop number is on their sleeve," Georgie muttered, sniffling, as her body was then, once more, overcome by sobs that shook her.

She hadn't cried this hard since she lost her daughter and she suddenly realized that this was the other shoe that was waiting to drop.

Rick looked down at Georgie and crouched to her level. Reaching a hand out, he placed it upon the side of her face and waited until she looked at him. "I'm sorry," he spoke quietly. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

"So am I," she replied through her tears.

"So, what's the plan?" Abraham asked Rick.

Most of the group was seated around the dining room table, looking to Rick, as usual, for leadership. Daryl, Michonne and Tara were still on that supply run to the golf course, so they weren't aware of what was going on, and Carol was in the den still consoling Georgie. Everyone else was present; even Carl who was still holding Judith.

"Do we just bury her son and burn the rest?" Abraham continued.

Rick looked over at the ginger man and shook his head. "She doesn't know which one is her son," he responded. "Ya'll saw his school picture she had put on the fridge. You saw what he looked like. Those bodies down there are so far gone with decay there's no way of telling what any of them used to look like, especially both the boys." He looked around the table and bit at his thumbnail for a moment as he considered the options. "No, we bury both the boys. We bury all of 'em. Those people, the amount of blood Maggie found under all the mattresses and cushions, they were killed while they slept. They were executed." He scowled, leaning back in his chair at the end of the long table. "Good people with two children with them aren't killed in bed because they were walkers. It's unlikely they all got bit and turned. There would be blood all over this house, but there's not. It's been sequestered to anywhere a person could sleep. The amount of people that were killed, this took more than one person to do it. It was probably a group. My guess is they came in during the middle of the night, thinking this place was empty and then they saw it wasn't. I'm talking the worst of humanity doing this. They came in, killed everyone with one shot to the head while they slept."

"They probably got rid of the bodies in that room and found the deadbolts in the garage; thought it'd be easier to dispose of the bodies that way than burn 'em. The fire and smoke might've drawn other people or walkers," Glenn suggested. "And then they cleaned up most of the blood and flipped the mattresses. But why they did that is beyond me."

"So they could sleep on 'em," Tyreese piped up. "So they could sleep easy without reminders of what they'd done."

"And then they cleaned this place out of food and a few other supplies, and left." Rick pulled at his beard. It was getting much fuller a bit out of hand, but there was no razor here to shave it off even if he wanted to. "Georgie and I found a woman killed the same way in the other house down the road. She was on her bed, gunshot right into her forehead, and blood soaked into the mattress. There was a little girl's room, but no sign of a little girl or even a grave, but then again we didn't check the backyard. We think it was probably the husband that was in that one car at the end of the driveway. He shot his wife, whether she was a walker or not; who knows? I don't think the deaths here and the death there are linked though. I think they're separate instances."

"What do we do after we bury the dead?" Sasha asked.

"I dunno just yet," Rick shrugged. "Let's wait for Daryl, Michonne and Tara to get back and then we'll decide.

The trio did return about two hours later while several of the others were digging graves and burying the bodies in the graves already dug. Daryl ran up seeing the mound of bodies covered with bed sheets, thinking the worst had happened while they were away, no doubt. Rick was there to fill him and the other two in about the bodies found in the secret room and how one was determined to be Georgie's son Tristan. Michonne went straight into the house and sought out Georgie, finding her sitting in the den with Carol. Georgie was actually lying down with her head in Carol's lap and Carol was just there as comfort.

Only Carol and Michonne knew this particular pain Georgie was going through, for a second time; the pain of losing a child. Carol had lost her daughter Sophia, and Michonne had lost her son Andre. To have carried that life within you for nine months and then raised them, only for their light to be extinguished so early was traumatizing.

Parents weren't supposed to outlive their children.

Kneeling on the ground, Michonne reached a hand out to rest upon Georgie's shoulder and whispered her condolences and then just leaned back in silence.

Sometimes, not saying anything to someone who was grieving, but just being there, was more comforting.

When all the bodies were buried, Rick came into the den where the three childless mothers were. He crouched down beside Michonne, who then got back up to her feet and left the room. Carol took the hint, too, that Rick wanted to speak to Georgie alone. As soon as it was just the two of them left, Rick leaned in toward Georgie and placed his hand on the side of her face while she laid there staring at his chest, but not at him.

"It's done," he said. "Both boys we put together since it was too hard to tell…" He let himself trail off and not finish that sentence. He bit his lips together and then leaned closer to press his sweaty forehead upon her dry on for a moment. "You survived the death of your daughter, as terrible as it was for you, and I know you'll survive this. It'll take some time, and it's gonna hurt like hell, but you'll do it."

"I survived my daughter's death because I still had hope that my son was alive," she mumbled. "Now I know my son is dead."

A thought entered his head. "You said there were four boys that were missing from your son's troop, your son included, but we only found two downstairs. Maybe your son and the other one are still out there."

Georgie looked him in the eye, deadpan and void of emotion. "No," she shook her head. "There was blonde hair on the one boy. And his drawing was here. Rick, as nice as it would be, I do not believe my son survived this house. You just buried him in the backyard with one of his friends." She slowly pushed herself up until she was sitting and his gaze followed her. "I'm done hanging onto hope. It's just a pretty distraction; a theory made up in your head to ignore the harsh reality of this life. And you know what? I'm glad my son and my daughter are dead. They're at peace and don't have to know further suffering in this world, this hell we live in."

Tears were falling down her face again and Rick frowned.

"I'm sorry," she continued. "That makes me sound like I wish Carl and Judith weren't here, either."

Rick moved his hands to cover her upper thighs with them; platonically, not in a sexual way. This was in no way an appropriate time for anything of the sort. "I didn't take it as that's how you meant it," he assured. "I mean, I don't wish my kids dead or anything, but I wish they didn't have to live in this world either. This isn't the kind of world for any of us to be living in."

They looked at each other in the eye and they met halfway in a caring hug.

"Did Gabriel say anything over the graves?"

"Yeah," Rick replied into her hair.

"Good," she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. "I couldn't be out there and watch it."

"No, that's okay. It's understandable," he assured. "I don't think I could watch Carl or Judith being buried."

"Children are supposed to bury their parents, not the other way around."

"Yeah, I know. Sometimes this world is ass backwards." Rick lifted her head up off his shoulder and held it in his hands so he could look her in the eye again. "You're gonna survive this," he repeated.

"I don't know that I want to anymore."

"If not for yourself, do it for my kids, for Carol…" Then, in a more hushed voice, he added, "For me."

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips but as soon as it almost appeared, it was gone. With a sigh and a shrug of her shoulders, Georgie, was finding she no more tears would come for her, leaned back against the sofa. "I make no promises," she said.

"Sounds like a promise to me," he attempted to jest.

"We're not staying here another night," Rick announced to the group as they all stood around the kitchen. "We made a plan to go to Richmond to Noah's home where Beth wanted to go, and we got enough fuel and food to get us there. We'll pack up only the necessities and we'll be on our way. I want us on the road before nightfall."

Rick looked at his son, he looked at his daughter who was being held by Michonne, and he looked at Georgie who was leaning against a wall with Carol at her side.

"We'll drive a few hours and then pull over to sleep before continuing on in the morning. We just can't stay here anymore." He then cast a glance over at Daryl who was sitting a few feet away on top of the kitchen counter, and repeated what Daryl had said when they first all entered this house together. "This place is a graveyard."