I'm led down the stairs of the building and out onto the street. I don't like it down here. I haven't seen what I'm seeing in so long – clean sidewalks and groomed trees. New-looking benches and bright streetlights. Upright trash bins and ash trays. All down this long street, it's the old world again. Except it's empty. And that's actually the most comforting part. If there were people here, watching, staring at the small girl with the two armed guards on either side of her, that would have been the tough thing. But my buddies and me, we're alone. Without a word, they take me to the end of the street, down one alleyway, down another, to a graveled space filled with cars parked in front of a row of doors. One door is open. That's the one I'm brought to.

The room is windowless and dimly lit, light bulbs burning yellow in the corners. All kinds of junk are pressed against the wooden walls, from a green couch to painting to a mattress, and in the room's center, there's a table with a single, empty chair. And among all this, people. Four people.

Glenn is the first face I take in. He's on the table's left side. He's been beaten. His eye is black, there's blood down his face and neck, it's bad, bad enough that I cover my mouth. And holding a gun on him, closer to me, is my uncle, who glances over his shoulder as I come in. I can tell from his expression that he wasn't expecting me.

He did this to Glenn. I know he did, I know it –

But there are two other people in here. On the right side of the table. Straight across from Glenn, looking at me with wet eyes and swallowing a lot, is Maggie. Her shirt is gone and she is covering her breasts with her hands. And at the head of the table, in front of the chair but not using it, is a very tall man with a pleasant smile on his face. I know right away that this is the Governor, and I know right away that I want him dead.

"Well, well." He slowly starts around the table. I hear the door close behind me. "So you're Sydney. I've heard a lot about you, young lady."

"What's she doin' here?" asks Merle. He's backed up from Glenn – his gun's still on him, but his eyes are on me.

The Governor strolls past Maggie, trailing his fingers along her bare back as he goes. I see her flinch. He comes to the front of the table, about four feet in front of me, and rests on it, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah, I can see the family resemblance," he says thoughtfully. He gestures at me, at Merle. "The eyes, at least. You're prettier than Merle is, though, don't worry." He gives me another pleasant smile.

Merle's lowered his pistol. He takes a slow step towards me, and Shumpert leaves my side and passes him to go stand near Glenn. Merle says, "Governor, I thought we had an agreement 'bout this."

"Our agreement was made with the understandin' that you'd find out where their camp is. You haven't come through."

"I will. Just give me a little more time, and I will." Merle's arms are in the air, like they were earlier today, right before he shot out the station wagon's back window. He gives a little laugh now, a smile. Nervous. "Now why don't we just have these boys take my niece back to my place –"

"No."

Merle shuts up. I don't look at him. The Governor's the threat. You don't take your eyes off the threat. "Sydney, could you come here, please?"

I stay where I am. Which might not be smart. But the idea of obeying this Governor like he's Dad, like he's Rick or Glenn, makes my skin crawl.

His eyes narrow at me, though. "Now."

I'm still.

Merle's just said my name when the Governor comes toward me, crossing that four feet of space between us in a blink of an eye. His hand closes around my neck, in the same place my dad rubs it, and his fingers clamp around me and he lifts me from the ground. There's a deep pain that feels like a mix of a burn and a torn muscle in the back of my neck, and the Governor gets a grip on my shirt, too, and he throws me onto the table. I land chest-first but twist my body around, skidding across the surface mostly on my side, my arm. The table is old and splintery and I feel some skin shred. And now I'm lying on the end of the table opposite the Governor. Merle's standing where he was, eyes wide. His arms are at his side, his one palm is open, and he's shaking his head a little. At the Governor? At me? Don't know. But I know I hate him. I know I wish he'd died on that rooftop in Atlanta. I wish he'd bled out, or better yet, not had the hacksaw at all, I hate him.

Sit up, I have to sit up. I push myself onto my knees. I touch my upper arm, the heat of the scratches hitting me first. But then there's the throbbing in my neck, my back, my shoulder, and I take a sharp breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Glenn move my way, but Shumpert shakes his gun and he stops. Ow, ow . . . The Governor's pleasant smile is gone. "You need to teach this one to do what she's told, Merle."

"I'll give her a whoopin' she'll never forget," Merle promises. "I'll take her back to my place right now and do it. Just hand her over."

The Governor ignores him. He presses his palms into the table. "Now. Can we have a calm conversation, Sydney?"

As soon as I claw your eyes out. As soon as there's an arrow in your head.

"Sydney, answer him." That was Maggie. I look. She's pleading with me. I take my hand off my arm. My palm's slick with blood.

"Alright," I tell the Governor quietly.

"Good. Now, your people here haven't been very cooperative with us. But you will be, right?"

" . . . I'm not going to tell you where the camp is."

"No?" He pulls a gun. He points it at Maggie. "Even if I do this?"

"Don't –" I fall silent.

"What? Don't kill her?"

Maggie's not looking at me, or the Governor. She's looking at Glenn. Glenn's looking at her. Glenn looks like he might be crying, and I can't breathe, and I press my arm over my eyes – and I think of everyone back at the prison, I think of my dad, and Carl, and the little baby, and all of them, we have to protect all of them, not just ourselves, I have to protect all of them, not just Maggie, not just Glenn –

"Look at me, Sydney!" barks the Governor, and I slam my hands down. "What if I kill Glenn? Or you?" And for the first time in my life, I'm looking down the barrel of a loaded gun.

I see Merle move forward just as Maggie says, "The prison!"

And I realize that I was never the target here.

I tune out the conversation then, like I do sometimes. I don't want to hear any more of it. Because now they know where we are. Now they're a threat. To all of us. Maggie gives some more information, our size, I think. But the big secret's out. They have us. They have us. The next thing I'm really, totally aware of is the Governor standing by Maggie, stroking her face, whispering in her hair, pulling her close, and then I'm screaming all sorts of things at him, screaming, screaming, and the Governor makes a signal at Shumpert and he lets Glenn get by him to Maggie, and the Governor's gone, and I'm scrambling off the table to try and get to Maggie and Glenn, but Merle's in the way. He scoops me up with one arm and tosses me over his shoulder, and I kick and hit him and thrash around but he doesn't let go, and we leave the stuffy room and go out into the fresh night air, the door behind us closing Maggie and Glenn away from me, and an animal sort of wail comes from my mouth and I go limp and quiet, not caring anymore. Merle eventually takes me from his shoulder and just holds me in his arms, the metal one painful against my back, and somewhere inside of me I want to twist and get down, I don't want him holding me like this, but I'm so tired. I'm so tired. I look at the stars for a minute and then close my eyes because they make me homesick. Walking. A door. Stuffy air again. Stairs. Walking some more. A door again. A couch. A lamp switches on. Metal against metal. Merle's hand on my arm, in my blood.

"Ain't deep. You hurt anywhere else? Sydney. Sydney Rose! You hurt anywhere else?"

I open my eyes. "No." I'm not sure if that's the truth, but I don't want to give him any more information about anything ever again.

He stands. The blade's gone from his metal arm. He goes into the bathroom. I hear clutter move around. He's back, with a rag and some rubbing alcohol. "Don't touch me," I whisper, but he does anyway and I don't bother pulling my arm away. I'm exhausted. The rag is wet. The alcohol burns. Merle's knuckles are bloody.

"Darlin', I . . . I didn't know he was gonna bring you in there. You gotta know. If I did, I . . ." But I guess Merle doesn't know what he would've done. He screws the cap back on the alcohol. "You should . . . You should eat somethin' . . ."

Just as he gets up, there's a two-beat knock on the door. My uncle runs his hand over his scalp. "Yeah?"

The door opens. It's Shumpert. "Governor wants you. He's havin' a meetin' in his quarters. Just you and Milton and Martinez. And I think Elsie."

"Elsie?" Merle steps forward, fast enough to make Shumpert edge back, tense up. "What the hell does she know about it?"

"Don't know. Just saw her go in."

Merle ducks his head, turns it my way, but doesn't quite look at me. Looks at my shoes, maybe. I don't know. I want to go to bed. My bed. In my cell. With my dad humming to me like he only does after really rough days. It's been a rough day.

"Stay with her," says Merle, and then it's just me and Shumpert. He sits in his chair and we ignore each other, just like old times.