The Walking Dead: Season Two
Episode III: Behind Closed Doors
Chapter Eight: All Out War
Previously on The Walking Dead: Having barely escaped The Sheriff and his men back at the Air Force Base, Clementine, Donald and Johnny teamed up with Old Jack and his family to take him down, and take back the Base. Meanwhile, back at Robins, The Sheriff offers Lilly a place by his side in his mission to find the cause of the walker outbreak and destroy it, an offer Lilly can't refuse. Nearby, the rest of the survivors find themselves trapped in the armory with Todd's corpse, minutes from reanimating. Outside, Old Jack awaits an audience with The Sheriff, and the battle for Robins Air Force Base looms near.
Jerry followed Tommy out of the giant, open doors of the hangar as the boy marched towards the gates of the Air Force Base. As soon as the golden sun hit him, Jerry felt his skin begin to burn under the day's breath-taking heat – his brow already sweating profusely. He wiped a wave of sweat from his forehead with the back of his dirty hand as he pulled a revolver from the back of his trousers. His silver badge gleamed as the shining sun hit it mercilessly. Jerry's hat kept the furious blaze of the sun out his eyes whilst also hiding his face beneath a dark shadow, keeping his men from seeing the cold, heartless eyes that gazed upon them one by one as he passed them – eyes that struck fear not only in the man's enemies, but his friends too. That was of course except for Jason Quesada, the man who'd looked into Jeremiah Winters' eyes and laughed in the face of death. But Jason and his garrison of bandits were at the back of Jerry's mind as he marched, Tommy still at his side, towards where Old Jack stood, far from the front gates of the Base, his hands in his pockets and a disappointed look on his old, withered face.
"Jack," Jerry welcomed the old man warmly. "It's been a while," he reminded him. Though Jerry wore a warm and welcoming smile, his eyes shot straight past Old Jack, focusing on the RV that roared like a caged animal at the gates of the Air Force Base.
"So it has," Old Jack replied without a smile, instead his face was dead with seriousness.
"So, what brings you here?" Jerry asked with an eyebrow raised quizzically, his voice suggesting suspicion of the old man. His eyes shot from the RV at his gates to the hunchbacked old man who stood feebly in front of him, his hands buried deep in his pockets. "I wasn't expecting another drop off until Friday," Jerry explained, though something told him Old Jack wasn't here to hand over food and supplies.
"I'm not here to make a drop off," Old Jack told him, confirming Jerry's suspicions. Old Jack's voice was blunt and fierce, and Jerry couldn't help but feel that the washed-up old farmer had forgotten his place. "I'm here about the poor bastards you have locked up in there!" Old Jack told him with an angry frown as he pointed in the direction of the hangar behind Jerry. "What the fuck kind of game are you playing here, Jerry?" Old Jack asked him, struggling to grasp Jerry's logic. But Old Jack should have asked a little nicer than that.
"Excuse me?" Jerry asked him with disgust as Old Jack showed him nothing but contempt. "Who the hell do you think you are showing up on my doorstep, speaking to me like that?" Jerry asked as he marched toward Old Jack, his boots hammering prints in the dirt beneath them, until he stood toe-to-toe with the man. "You better start treating me with a little more damn respect, old man," Jerry grudgingly told Old Jack mere inches from his face. "You'd almost think you didn't learn from the last time you disrespected me in front of my men," Jerry remarked. They both knew what Jerry meant by that. It was enough to make Old Jack take a step back. "But we both know that's not true." Jerry watched as Old Jack's eyes fell to the dirt between his feet. "I think we all remember Maggie."
"DON'T YOU SAY HER GODAMN NAME!" Old Jack bellowed, loudly enough for Tommy and the other men that stood dutifully behind Jerry to raised their weapons in alarm. "You hear?" Old Jack asked, unfazed by the array of firearms being pointed in his face.
"Listen, Jack," Jerry began to say sincerely as he circled Old Jack, "I assure you I want nothing less than for any harm to come to any of your people." Jerry stopped in his tracks behind Old Jack where he leaned in and whispered into the man's ear. "But if you ever insult me in front of my men again I swear I won't hesitate to cut out your fucking tongue and watch you bleed," he whispered sinisterly into Old Jack's ear.
Old Jack turned pale as Jerry fell in between his men that sill stood dutifully with their weapons raised in Jack's direction. "Look, I'm only here to tell you to let these people go. They never did you no harm. So please, let them go – that's all I ask," he said calmly.
Jerry stood in between his men stroking his chin with his hand thoughtfully as he listened to Old Jack's request. Letting his prisoners go was never a thought that Jerry had ever considered. What had gotten Jerry thinking was why Old Jack was so interested in freeing these people – who were essentially, as far as Jerry knew, strangers to Old Jack – from their captivity. "In that case, what the fuck has it got to do with you – is all I ask?" Jerry replied sarcastically.
"Please, Jerry," he thought he heard the old man beg. In all the time he'd know Old Jack, this had been a first. "They didn't ask for any of this. Just let them ago…"
"Why?" Jerry asked, smiling manically as he awaited an answer from Old Jack. "What exactly are you going to do to make me?" Jerry asked him as he took slow steps towards him.
In one quick movement, Jerry watched as Old Jack quickly drew something from his back pocket, only to hear a gunshot erupt behind him. The bullet zipped through Old Jack's chest and out the other side, sprinkling blood across Jerry's uniform and making him jump back out of sheer shock. He hadn't seen this coming. He watched Old Jack slump to the ground, falling on his back into the dirt as blood poured from the gaping hole in his chest. Behind him, Jerry saw Tommy's pistol raised, smoking from the shot.
Jerry stared deep into Tommy's eyes with utter contempt for the boy. He watched as the pistol rattled in his shaking hand until Tommy finally lowered the pistol, but his eyes still watched Old Jack, who lay dying in the dirt. Jerry waved a hand in front of Tommy in an effort to grab the boy's attention. An effort that proved to be of no avail. The boy didn't even flinch. That was when Jerry turned. Where Old Jack had reached out as he lay slowly dying in the dirt, Jerry saw now that he held in his hand nothing more than a pocket watch as golden as that day's sunshine. As he crouched beside Old Jack, who now mumbled incomprehensible words through a his mouth that leaked blood, he saw that on the inside of the pocket watch had been placed an old, worn-out photograph of Jack and Maggie, sat happily on the porch of their farmhouse. There was no sign of a gun or any kind of a weapon. What Old Jack held in his hand was nothing more harmless that a memory. And Old Jack felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. Regret.
Beyond Old Jack's body, Jerry's eyes found the RV. Immediately, Jerry noticed the RV had moved since he'd last seen it. Were Old Jack's people running scared? What Jerry saw next proved him very much wrong. As the RV pushed forward, it revealed the vehicle it had been hiding. Now, the huge, green, roaring tank that Jerry had once handed over as a gesture of peace was stood at his gates, ready for war.
The colossal, monster toppled the fence as though it were made out of sand instead of steel as the tank came roaring towards Jerry and his men. He heard the fence twist and shriek as it was slowly crushed by the tank that came lumbering towards him. He heard his men's guns click around him as they prepared for an all-out war with Old Jack's people. Jerry was so absorbed by the enormous size of the tank that he have not heard Tommy's cries.
"JERRY!" Tommy screamed in his ear, finally gaining his attention and returning him to this planet. "What do we do?" He asked him. Just by looking at the boy, Jerry could tell that Tommy was not only terrified, but totally clueless as to what to do next. He knew then that the boy obviously wasn't ready to lead this group. Jerry took a deep breath.
"We fight," he told Tommy, who then nodded in respect of his decision. It didn't matter whether the choice he'd made was the right one. He'd be long gone before it mattered.
Michael could feel the scorching heat burning the back of his neck mercilessly as he followed the tank closely, a rifle in his arms, beside his uncles. He was prowling behind the tank, his gun loaded and ready, in between Dick and Harold, both armed and dangerous. Michael barked at Jimmy, who drove the tank, to keep on steering it forward, though he couldn't be sure that his younger brother had heard him through the tank's thick walls. He heard Dick fire his rifle as he peered over the tank to take a shot and The Sheriff or one of his men. Michael took a quick look to see one of The Sheriff's men fall as a bullet tore through their torso spraying blood across the armed man next to him. He ducked immediately after, only to hear a bullet hit the shell of the tank mere inches from where he'd stood. Michael hadn't taken a long enough look to count The Sheriff's men, but he, Dick and Harold were clearly outnumbered – they'd known that from the start. But they had one thing The Sheriff didn't. They had a tank, and someone who knew how to use it.
"KEEP FIRING!" Michael heard Dick shout through ears that were ringing from the gunshots that filled the air, most of which were being aimed towards the three of them. "DON'T. STOP. FIRING!" Dick bellowed in between taking desperate shots at The Sheriff and his men. He must have taken down no less than a half dozen of them. Now it was Michael's turn.
Michael hadn't felt his heart beat like this since the first time he'd first encountered one of the walking dead. Who would have thought that, after a zombie breakout plagues the world, it would be the living that would cause Michael and his family the most pain?
Michael peered over the tank sheepishly. Upon spotting the armed man that was raining bullets down on the three of them, Michael aimed his rifle carefully and took a deep breath. He squeezed the trigger. Michael watched as the bullet zipped through the man's skull, knocking him senseless to the ground. He watched his body plummet to the ground. A man in glasses, wielding a 9mm pistol, came to his rescue too late. He held the lifeless body in his arms as he screamed for a medic to come to his aid, but to no avail. Michael watched as the man in glasses dropped his friend's body, forced to abandon him, al whilst fighting back tears. Suddenly, Michael felt himself being yanked back down behind cover just as another array of bullets came hitting the tank's walls. Harold slapped Michael across the face with the back of his hand as Dick continued to fire fiercely upon The Sheriff and his men.
"You trying to get yourself killed, son?" Harold bellowed, though Michael could still barely hear him over the bullets that continued to fire their way. "This isn't a fucking game!"
"I'm sorry," Michael apologised, though the battlefield was no time for sincerity.
"Don't be sorry!" Dick barked from nearby. "Just don't go dying on us!"
Clementine watched at the three heroes cowered behind the hull of the tank as a seemingly endless wave of bullets fell upon them. She watched Dick take down another couple of men, whilst Harold and Michael's shots weren't as successful. Johnny continued to pace up and down the RV behind her, whilst Donald and Sara remained in their seats. Danny had climbed the seat beside her to join her in watching the battle through the window. Chaos was all they saw. As the tank neared them more so, the men with guns took steps back. Clementine watched as the man in the sheriff's uniform disappear. He darted inside one of the hangars, leaving his men alone and afraid. They were losing and they knew it.
"They're doing it!" Danny shouted with enthusiasm, overjoyed at their success. "They're running away!" Clementine could see The Sheriff's men dropping their guns and bolting it out of there at the mere sight of the tank.
"Stay away from the windows, honey," Sara softly warned her son. "It's not safe."
"But Dad – he's kicking their asses!" Danny exclaimed excitedly. Clementine giggled beside him. The two kids smiled at each other before returning to watching the battle play out.
That was when Clementine saw Dick dart from his cover at the hull of the tank to the steps of the men's barracks, likely to gain a better vantage point. He was halfway to his new spot when the old man must have been clipped by a bullet. Clementine watched him tumble into the dirt, clutching his side in pain where Dick began to leak red liquid as Michael and Harold shouted after him from the tank. Harold fled from the cover of the tank over to where his brother lay in the line of fire waiting to be killed. With all of his might, Harold lifted his brother and dragged him to the barracks where the two took cover. The fact that neither of them had been shot in the process had to have been some kind of miracle.
"I'm going out there," Clementine heard Johnny murmur. "They need me," he explained louder than before. Johnny grabbed a rifle from the table top, swung open the door of the RV, and was gone before Clementine could protest.
It wasn't until she heard a monstrous explosion that Clementine turned back to see out the window. Smoke billowed from the main gun of the tank and Clementine heard men scream and shout in the distance. Jimmy had just fired the tank.
Johnny hopped over the remains of the fence that had been toppled and crushed by the incredible weight of the tank, carrying a rifle in his arms, as he made his way to the battlefield to join the fight. He spotted Dick and Harold taking cover at the barracks. Dick's gunshot wound hadn't stopped him from fighting. With his brother's support, he continued to fire at The Sheriff's men. Johnny watched him take down two or three armed men by the team he reached the tank where Michael still took cover. Michael, deafened by the blast of the tank's gun, didn't hear Johnny coming. When he saw him crouched beside him, Michael turned his rifle on Johnny. His heart raced as he looked down the barrel of Michael's gun.
"Fuck, man! It's me! Chill out!" He quickly shouted at Michael, loud enough for him to hear.
"Shit, I'm sorry," Michael apologised nervously. Johnny could see that he was shaking.
Peering over the hull of the tank, Johnny made out less than half a dozen armed men remaining. This war was almost over – and they were winning. But Johnny's heart sank when he saw one of the men arming what resembled a missile launcher before pointing the weapon directly at the tank the two were hiding behind.
"Oh shit," Johnny cursed under his breath as the man's finger tightened around the weapon's trigger. "RUN!" Johnny bellowed as loud as his lungs would allow. He pushed Michael towards the barracks as they darted away from the tank as fast as their legs would carry them. Johnny heard a quite poof, but the moments that followed were silent. Not a second later, Johnny had been thrown off his feet and was being carried through the air by a hot and heavy force. The deafening explosion followed. Johnny's ears were still ringing by the time he landed flat in the dirt, his face buried in the ground.
Johnny felt metal shards of the tank land beside him in hot balls of fire. When he finally pulled himself up, Johnny saw what remained of the tank. It was nothing more than a fiery, heap of blackened scrap metal from which a grim shade of black smoke billowed, though there was no sign of Jimmy. Through the fire, Johnny could just about make out the man with the missile launcher, who now wore an evil and sadistic smirk across his face.
"How we doin'?" Johnny asked an uncomfortable Michael, a disgruntled Harold and a still bleeding-out Dick as he joined them in taking cover behind the steps of the Men's Barracks.
"Been better," Dick spat as his brother pressed a rag to his gushing wound. Despite this madness and the bullet wound that was almost killing him, Dick still managed a smile.
Johnny turned to peer over the steps. He saw the burning wreck that remained of Old Jack's, but there was still no sign of Jimmy. Smoke continued to billow from the fiery heap of metal as the war around them raged on, despite the amount of men Dick had single-handedly taken down. But now, their best gunman was down. Now, it was Johnny's turn.
Johnny darted over to the fiery remain of the tank, his view of the men with guns blurred by the fire and smoke that made his eyes water. But if he couldn't see them, then they couldn't see him either. At least, Johnny was taking that risk. He slid to cover behind the tank, as hot and dangerous to be around as it was, as he escaped the array of bullets that he'd felt zip past him on his way there. The fire burned him until he sweat through his white shirt, bloodied shirt. Johnny's heart stopped when he heard a gun click from nearby.
Johnny looked over his shoulder. From the corner of the tank, out of the flames of hell, had emerged one of The Sheriff's men. The man had to have been no more than thirty years old. Johnny saw his own reflection in the stranger's eyeglasses. He also then noticed where the man was missing a hand. A bloody bandage marked his stump. Johnny saw the man smile as he pointed a 9mm pistol down to Johnny, it's barrel mere inches from his face.
"Any last words, kid?" The man asked Johnny in a grizzly southern accent.
"Yeah," Johnny said positively, with a faint smile to match his. He slowly got to his feet, raising his hands to surrender a he did so until he stood at the height of the armed man. "Behind you," Johnny mocked, his eyes on something behind the man that made him smile.
Tommy span around in a panicked state, taking his eye off the ball for enough time for Johnny to gain the upper hand. Tommy was flabbergasted when he saw what was behind him – nothing. By the time he had span back around, Johnny had picked up a hot piece of scrap metal from the burning pile beside them which he held raised in the air. Johnny clocked Tommy across the face with the hot metal, smashing his glasses and more than likely a couple of teeth with them. He heard Tommy's teeth chatter as he spewed blood and saliva from his mouth. He fell flat to the ground, knocked out by the heavy, clunky piece of metal. Johnny stood, admiring his work so much that he forgot to let go of the metal. He felt his skin sticking to the hot scrap metal, and dropped it in a quick, frightened movement.
Johnny stepped back, dusted himself off, grabbed his gun and joined the fight again.
A well-aimed bullet from Harold, who rested his gun on his brother's shoulder as the two refused to leave each other, took down the last of The Sheriff's men that Michael could see. As soon as he saw him fall, Michael bolted. He threw himself on his feet and in the direction of his father, who still laid in the dirt as the chaos continued to erupt around him. Michael felt bullets zip past him as he ducked and jumped on his way to where his father lay. He saw more armed men spilling out of one of the hangars. But Michael could hear his uncles and Johnny fighting back from the corners of the Base as he sprinted to his father. He saw The Sheriff's men fall. But his legs didn't stop moving for a second. Not until he found himself by his father's side, his hand in his as Old Jack laid dying beside him.
"Dad?" Michael could see the faintest of light in his father's eyes as they flickered open and closed, like a lightbulb that was about to run out of juice. "Can you hear me?"
Michael heard his father breath heavily as blood still poured from the hole in his chest. Michael threw his hands over his father's wound, but he knew it was too late. "Son," he heard his father utter through breathlessness in a weak voice.
"I'm here," Michael assured his father. He saw the pocket watch he held onto for dear life.
"Son," Old Jack repeated, this time with the faintest of smiles. He coughed up blood. But his cough turned into a laugh. "I'll be seeing your mother again soon," he said happily.
"Don't be silly, Dad," Michael told him. "We can still fix you. You're gonna be fine."
"No," the father assured his son. "It's okay. I'm ready," he explained. "I want to see her again," he told his son through a croaky voice as his eyes flooded with tears. "I miss her."
"Me too," Michael told him. "You tell her that, okay? Tell her I miss her. And I love her."
"She knows," Old Jack told his son, who was now fighting back tears. "But I'll tell her." "Listen, son," Old Jack began to say. Michael leaned in closer to hear his father's last words. "Help these people. Free their friends. Lead them. Protect them just like you did our group," he told his son, who nodded dutifully, accepting the responsibility. "They're family now. And nothing's more important, and worth protecting than family," he explained. "I need you to protect these people," Old Jack pleaded with his last breaths. "Will you do that, son?"
"I'll do my best," Michael told his father as tears rolled down his bloody and dirty cheeks.
"S'all I ask," were Old Jack's last words. As the distant glow of light faded from his father's eyes, Michael let Jack's hand go and tucked the pocket watch away. Back on his feet, Michael loaded his rifle and stormed towards the hangar, where his father's killer awaited.
He found Jimmy crawling towards one of the hangars, leaving a trail of sweat and blood that Johnny couldn't see but he could taste in the air. He heard Jimmy mumbling for his father, his brother, and even his uncles. Johnny crouched beside him and flipped the boy over effortlessly. He slapped his cheeks and called his name, but Jimmy was beyond dazed. His ears were likely still ringing from the explosion and he was no doubt caught in the explosion enough to suffer burns and perhaps even been caught by loose shrapnel. Johnny checked him for cuts, burns and more. One of Jimmy's hands had been burned to a crisp, and Johnny noticed a stick of shrapnel poking out of his shoulder. The kid needed a doctor.
"I need a Doctor!" Johnny screamed, the adrenaline shaking his voice to make him sound five years younger, though he knew it was hopeless. He sighed. Had he really expected a Doctor to jump out of thin air to save the day? Johnny looked at Jimmy. He was dying.
"I'm a Doctor," Johnny heard a voice say. He was almost certain he hadn't imagined it. Through the smoke that the wind had sent billowing their way, Johnny began to make out a figure slowly emerging from the curtain of black and grey. The man wore pale green Doctor's scrubs, though they were stained with fresh, crimson blood. "I can help."
Johnny was speechless. "I-," he tried to say, but he didn't even know where to start.
"He's in shock." The Doctor rushed over to them both and was knelt beside Jimmy before Johnny could intervene. Before he knew, the Doctor was cleaning Jimmy's face with a rag and studying his wounds. Finally, he looked up at Johnny. "You should probably get back to it," he told Johnny through thick, black eyeglasses that gleamed in the sun. He must have been almost sixty, and yet he seemed to have a better grasp of the situation than Johnny.
"Right," Johnny agreed, though he couldn't have said he wasn't still confused as hell. When he spotted Michael rushing inside one of the hangars, Johnny bolted after him.
"They're coming!" Lilly heard Jerry shout as he darted across the hangar. The Chopper was ready for lift off. Now, there was no turning back. This was happening. She felt Jerry climb aboard behind her, and she heard curse under his breath as he checked his revolver's bullet count. His gun was as empty as he was. "Fuck", she heard him mutter. But it wasn't the lack of ammo that was upsetting him. "The roof," he explained. Shit, Lilly cursed to herself. He hadn't even opened the roof for them. "Take off. I'll be right back," he ordered her as he jumped off the Helicopter to run for the switch that, annoyingly, was located across the hangar. She watched his bolt from the Chopper to the other side of the hangar. She swallowed the lump in her throat. This was starting to seem less and less like a good idea.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," Jerry cursed aloud as he fumbled with the switchboard clumsily, pushing and twisting random dials until something worked. At the push of the biggest red button in sight, Jerry heard the panels of the hangar's ceiling extend. He felt the blaze of the sun on his skin immediately. Cooking him from inside out as he sweat profusely. He gave Lilly a big thumbs up, but the gesture was not returned from the passenger seat where Lilly sat, her headset around her ears. She gazed with fear at something behind Jerry. When he turned, he saw Michael stood proudly, his rifle aimed straight for Jerry's head. The game was up.
"Shit," Jerry cursed, his smile had well and truly disappeared and been replaced by a look of concern that showed the man's age. "Well, kid," he said sadistically, "you got me."
"Shut the fuck up," Michael barked at The Sheriff, pointing his rifle further in his face. A face that he had come to hate. The face of his mother and father's killer. "I'll kill you. You hear me? I'LL KILL YOU!" Michael bellowed, making his voice heard across the hangar.
"Do it," Jerry insisted, unfazed as he gazed down the barrel of the gun. "Do. It."
"I will," Michael assured him nervously, the rifle shaking in his arms. "I'll do it…"
They never took their eyes off each other. It was the longest ten seconds of Michael's life. His heart beat like a drum. He was certain it was going to explode when he heard a loud CRASH erupt from behind him, like a wrecking ball had just hit the building.
Michael span around in a flash to see an enormous, black, bald man with his hands on his knees, out of breath, in front of the giant metal door he'd just forced out of its frame with his incredible strength and size. Michael could hear the man huff and puff from here.
"Coach! Move!" Michael heard a girl shout as she darted past the man, followed by an old woman and another young man with a swollen, black eye. They flooded out of the armoury, and Michael now understood why. He saw the walker chasing them. And he saw the girl grab the ice tool that had been left by the side of the door. She grasped it tight and swung it in the walker's direction, burying the metal point in the walker's right eye. When she pulled it loose, the eyeball came loose with it, hanging off the pick and making even Michael feel squeamish. The walker eventually slumped to the floor right by their feet, and it wasn't until she decided the thing was dead that the girl with blonde hair turned to Michael and The Sheriff. An evenly balanced look of both shock, disgust and terror filled the girl.
"You…" Molly murmured, her eyes fixated on The Sheriff and the evil stare he sent her back.
Michael eyes jumped between The Sheriff and Molly. He didn't know who to look at. Bu the couldn't ignore the obvious fact: these two knew each other. Now looking Molly, Michael realised how beautiful the girl was. The next feeling Michael felt was the cold bite of sharp steel as Jerry plunged his blade into his stomach and twisted until he felt the warm, red blood drip from the dragger. He let the knife go and watched Michael fall to the floor. After catching Molly's hateful glimpse one last time, Jerry darted for the Helicopter. By the time he'd climbed inside the cabin, the Chopper was metres off the ground, and the angry mob seemed like a world away. That was, until Jerry felt the ice tool plunge into the metal of the Helicopter after being flung from Molly below. Jerry watched the oil tank already start to leak. Their take off had been successful, but they weren't getting very far.
Lilly looked back upon the Base and its settlers one last time before clearing the Chopper out of there. They were only sever feet off the ground still, and Lilly could just about make out the faces of the those in the angry mob that had hounded Jerry out of the hangar. Though they wanted much more than to see him leave - they wanted the man dead – which was only another reason Lilly had begun to doubt the side she'd chosen. She saw Molly, who stared hatefully at them both. She saw Donald and Alice in each other's arms as they were finally reunited; they paid Lilly no heed. She saw Omid and Christa; neither of them were even able to look her in the eye. She even caught eyes with Johnny, who looked at her with disgust. Who could blame him? Especially after the way she'd let Tom punish him for his wrongdoings in the past. Thank God Tom couldn't see her now. And then, she saw Clementine. She caught eyes with girl for a good few seconds. But the girl's expression was blank, hiding the pain she likely felt from being abandoned like this. She only lifted her hand, and offered Lilly and empty wave goodbye. Lilly wiped a tear from her eye and, as they finally emerged from the hangar, steered the Chopper toward the sunset, leaving Robins Air Force Base behind them both… for now.
Next time on The Walking Dead: In the aftermath of the battle for Robins Air Force Base, the remaining survivors must bury their dead and decide their next move. But with Lilly gone, someone must step up as leader, and nobody is in any rush to volunteer. Meanwhile, The Sheriff and Lilly begin their journey, only to encounter an unexpected delay that could cost them both their lives at the hands of an enemy that neither of them anticipated. Episode IV: Prisoners of War begins in Chapter One: After the Storm, coming soon...