Three Orphan Pilgrimage (The Alternative to the Final Season)

by J. Gray Dingler

A story about three kids on a post-apocalyptic road trip, and the sequel to Young and Young at Heart. Their reprieve from a world torn apart by the dead coming to a close, a ten-year-old girl and her best friend set out on a journey to find a place to call home for not only themselves but also for the baby boy that they promised to take care of. [Art:Albaharu. Some M-Rated Content]

78. Force

Clementine awoke to a couple of dull thuds in the distance. Sitting up, she could see it was morning now but wasn't sure if it was really early or just cloudy out. There were another couple of thuds which she almost thought were thunder. She could see through the window it was raining, but a couple of louder thuds sounded without a hint of lightning as she stared out at the gentle summer shower. Clem was about to get out of bed when there was another thud followed by a violent cracking as the bedroom door was knocked off its hinges.

"Finally," said Corporal Cruz as she raised her rifle. "I finally found you."

"No!" There a deafening bang and then nothing as Clem felt herself clawing helplessly at the suffocating darkness.

"Clementine!" Hearing her name called, Clem stopped panicking long enough to realize what she had been clawing at was just a blanket. Pulling it off, she found their dimly lit bedroom as it should be and Sarah sitting in bed beside her. "Are you okay?" asked Sarah, her sleepy face racked with concern. "What's wrong?"

Instead of answering, Clem hurried to the bedroom door. It was still on its hinges, and peeking out into the hall she didn't any signs of an intruder. With panic coursing through her veins, Clem pushed the door shut, locked it, the hurried back into bed and immediately wrapped her arms around Sarah. Even with Sarah returning the embrace, Clem couldn't quite stop herself from crying onto her friend's shoulder.

"What's wrong?" asked Sarah as she ran her hand up and down Clem's back.

"I… I… had a really bad dream," Clem blurted out between sobs.

"About what?" asked Sarah, sounding unsettled herself. "About that… person, we found?"

Clem paused as she thought about how to answer Sarah. "Yes," she said. "I'm… I'm really worried about what's going to happen."

"Me too."

The pair remained in each's other arms as the sound of a light rain gradually eased Clementine's frayed nerves. Neither girl felt like going back to bed, so instead they got dressed and prepared to do their morning routines. First they checked on Omid, who Clem was happy to see was still sound asleep. Whereas the rest of group had been nervous, he had remained blissfully unaware of the implications of the intruder they had taken captive; Clem only hoped it would stay that way.

As Omid didn't need tending to at the moment, Sarah led Clem out of his bedroom and onto their next task; checking slug traps. It actually felt strange putting on a raincoat not covered in dried blood for once, but it felt even stranger looking at a bowl covered in fat little lumps of slimy flesh. Much to Clem's surprise, and horror, Sarah said there were usually a lot more slugs when it rained.

Clem felt a chill running up her spine just watching Sarah touch the bowl, even with gloves on. The black and green lumps seemed completely unaware of their fate as Sarah brought them back to the porch and dumped them into a bucket filled with soapy water. Having to pry the last few stuck to the bowl and toss them in, Clem could tell Sarah hated doing this. But not because she hated touching the slugs; she hated killing them.

But kill them they did as Clem helped, much to her repulsion, to clean out the traps and drown the slugs in a bubbly grave. Moving across the center of the field, Clem heard Buster, their scarecrow, start moaning at her. Looking at him, she noticed its new taped stumps where its shins used to be. Anthony had cut them off yesterday after he said Buster lunged at him, and he wasn't waiting for the collar to snap before taking action.

Listening to the Buster's snarling, Clem found herself having second thoughts about using a walker to keep crows away. Birds were avoiding all but the edges of the pasture now, and Clem didn't blame them as watering the field yesterday meant having to endure the constant moaning of their scarecrow as it struggled in vain endlessly against its chain. Seeing the indomitable corpse crawl forward on its stumps as best it could, Clem just did her best to ignore it.

Finishing with the slugs, Clem helped Sarah gather a few tomatoes and cucumbers for their captive. It was a difficult process, trying to pick which of their still ripening produce to feed to someone they didn't even want to feed. Because Sarah said eating their crops before they're fully grown would be a waste, the group hadn't even tasted them since Patty prepared them a salad a couple of days ago. And yet here they were picking a few now so the intruder won't know they have a semi-trailer full of canned goods as well.

Returning to the house, Omid was awake, along with Jet. Before long, the rest of the group was filing inside while Clem made them a simple breakfast of oatmeal and honey. After everyone ate, Clem prepared the produce they picked along with some leafs of lettuce Sarah clipped to make another salad for the intruder. Grabbing a fork and bringing it into the living room, she saw everyone looking at her, or more specifically, the bowl she was holding.

"We spent months busting our ass just to feed someone who steals from us and tries to kill me," griped Patty as she crossed her arms.

"So you keep reminding us," retorted Devlin in a sharp tone. "And if you don't keep quiet about it I'll bring Sin with me to feed the kid instead."

"You assume I don't share Patty's outlook on the situation," said Sin. "What are you expecting him to tell us if we keep feeding him?"

"If I knew that we wouldn't need to keep feeding him," answered Devlin.

"Why don't we try not feeding him, see if he talks then?" suggested Patty.

"We can't just starve him," argued Jet.

"And starving him won't get him to talk," argued Devlin.

"If we starved him for a while, then offered him food, I bet he'd talk then," asserted Patty. "That's how Valkaria worked. The asshole running things got people to do what she wanted by dangling fresh fish and oranges in front of anyone who was hungry."

"Shaffer's did that too," added Sarah with a hint of shame. "They'd starve you; then they'd get you to do whatever they want by offering you food."

"Yeah, they did stuff like that in Houston too. They fed whoever they considered important more food," said Jet as he looked at his grandfather. "So we're gonna be like them now and just starve people?"

"This isn't the same," argued Sin. "This person trespassed on our home, took our food, and nearly killed one of us."

"What if he hadn't?" asked Jet. "I bet you'd be saying the same thing right now anyway."

"Enough already," insisted Devlin. "We went through all this last night."

"And lunch yesterday," added Clem. "And breakfast."

"That's because we have a problem and we're no closer to a solution," said Sin. "What we're doing isn't working."

"It's been two days," argued Jet. "Less really since we found him in the evening; it's been closer to thirty-six hours. Maybe we give him—"

"How long?" asked Sin. "A week? A month? A year of feeding someone who's just waiting for a chance to strike?"

"The end of the day," answered Devlin. "I'll bring Patty with me for breakfast. Maybe seeing the person he shot will guilt trip him enough to tell us something. For lunch, I figured Sarah could explain to him just how much work growing the stuff he was taking really was. And if he still doesn't talk, Clem, maybe you can come with me to try and get him to talk for dinner."

"Why me?" asked Clem.

"It sounds like you've had some… experience, with being in bad places," noted Devlin in a grim tone. "If you're willing, maybe opening up to him about that might help him understand why we're holding him."

"I guess I could do that," said Clem.

"You still assume he is holding his tongue because he's afraid of us." Sin looked at Clem. "He told her to pretend she never saw him while aiming a gun at her. Does that sound like someone who's just afraid?"

"Yes," answered Jet bluntly.

"It's worrying, but we know almost nothing about him," stated Devlin. "For now, our best chance of changing that is making him comfortable enough he feels like talking to us. And while we're doing that, maybe Jet can figure out what his journal says."

"He spent all day yesterday on it and made no progress," stated Sin.

"I spent most of yesterday in the field," corrected an annoyed Jet. "It's raining today, so I've got time to figure it out now."

"Keep at it, until then we'll keep playing nice." Devlin picked up the salad and fork, then gave Patty a look.

"Fine," she sighed. "I'll be 'nice', since how we treat the guy who shot me is so damn important."

"This isn't about how we treat him, it's about getting him to tell us something," reminded Devlin. "I want him to see you today because if he meant it when he said he was sorry for what he did, then he should want to make it right, which I'll stress he can do by telling us a little about himself."

"And if he doesn't want to make it right?" challenged Sin.

Devlin took a breath. "Then we'll need to change tactics, but not until tomorrow." Devlin looked over at Patty, and the pair headed for the door. Patty grabbed an umbrella and they stepped outside.

"I'll be working on the pipes for our next rainwater collector in the Sunseeker," mumbled Sin as he headed for the door. "One of us needs to be preparing for the future, assuming we still have one."

As Sin left the house, Clem headed over to the window. She watched as Devlin and Patty approached the shed. Devlin adjusted the gun on his hip, then started undoing the padlock.

"Should I have just shot him?" Clem looked over her shoulder to find Jet standing behind her. "If… if I had shot him, we wouldn't be in this situation right now."

"I thought you don't want to hurt him," said Sarah as she approached Jet.

"I don't but…" Jet looked out the window, then looked away. "What if they're right, and this guy is a spy or something? What if we're gonna have to kill him?"

"We don't know that," said Sarah.

"And if you shot him… you'd spend the rest of your life wondering if you should have or not," said Clem, her voice trembling.

"Yeah, you… you always wonder if you did the right thing or not," added Sarah as she squeezed Clem's hand for comfort. The pair turned away from Jet and looked at Omid, who was happily licking flecks of oatmeal off his sticky fingers.

"Killing someone… that's something you can never take back." Clem walked with Sarah to Omid's high chair. "So you should never feel bad just because you didn't kill someone."

"I understand that," said Jet as Clem scooped Omid into her arms. "I just hope whoever these people this guy are with understand that too."

The sound of the doorknob turning got everyone's attention. The trio watched as Patty and Devlin reentered the house. The look on their faces made it clear they had no success, as was the fact they returned so quickly, but Clem felt compelled to speak anyway.

"He didn't say anything?" she asked.

"Not a damn thing," griped Patty.

"He won't even eat in front of us now," said Devlin, sounding tired. "We just had to leave the salad on the floor for him and lock the shed behind us."

"Ugh, I'm gonna enjoy the fact we've got some rain and jerk… take a shower," griped Patty as she marched outside. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the Brave."

"I can't really work on Sin's next project in the rain, so do you kids need anything?" Clem looked at Sarah, who looked at Jet, who just shook his head. "All right, and we don't need to water anything this morning either. If anything changes, just come get me in the guest house." Devlin left the trio alone, who just looked at each other in confusion for a moment.

"I… I should really work on figuring out his notebook while we've got a break," concluded Jet. "Maybe it'll tell us who he is and why he's here."

"I hope so," said Clem.

"Me too." Jet sighed, then headed for the stairs.

"So, what do we do?" asked Sarah.

"Ree-ree," demanded Omid as he tugged on Clem's collar.

"I guess that answers that."

Clem took Omid back to his room to read him a book. She had made sure to expand their library of children's books before leaving Tulsa, but Omid always picked from a few books he had already seen before. For today, he once again chose 'The Magic School Bus Explores the Solar System'. Clem recited the words without even looking at them, having long since memorized the entire book from reading it so many times. Omid predictably clapped and laughed in excitement every time she turned the page, and when the book was finished he started chanting 'ah-gee'.

After reading it twice more, Clem decided to bring Omid with her as she headed out into the greenhouse, hoping Omid would enjoy being outside long enough for Clem to check in on Sarah. Sarah was hovering over a couple of potted sprouts, explaining to Clem how she was going to use them for gathering seeds later while Omid discovered new ways of getting filthy by playing in the dirt.

Looking at the binders and dirt-stained sheets of paper with scribbled notes sprawled out over the tables, Clem felt guilty she couldn't help Sarah more with the greenhouse. And looking up at the crude patches of plastic taped over the tent's holes, Clem hated to think what would happen if they were struck by another tornado. Looking through the canopy, she was relieved to see there was almost no wind blowing through the trees as it rained this time.

After struggling to give Omid a bath while he constantly tried to escape the tub, Clem was pleasantly surprised she managed to get him down for a nap with relatively little effort. After turning on his baby monitor, Clem went to check on Sarah again and found she had finished everything she needed to do in the greenhouse today, leaving the pair with nothing they needed to do for once. After some minor deliberation, they decided sitting down and playing a game of chess like they used to would be nice.

Setting up the pieces, Clem realized they hadn't played together since Omid's birthday. It was relaxing being able to just play a game with her best friend again, especially since Clem had improved enough since learning how to play to avoid being quickly trounced. She knew Sarah's opening moves all too well to fall for any of her tricks and had spent enough time studying Sarah's later strategies to not leave herself open to easy attacks.

Despite feeling more confident in herself, it was hard for Clem to enjoy the game. With each move, it always felt like one girl was waiting for another to make conversation, and neither ever did. Sin was right about their problem being no closer to a solution. Every time Clem waited for Sarah to make a move, her thoughts drifted back to the intruder in the shed, and Clem suspected Sarah was doing the same when waiting on her.

Grabbing one of her pawns, Clem thought about moving into the open to hopefully ensnare Sarah's bishop. Sarah usually didn't pass up a chance to take a pawn, and Clem had a knight waiting to strike if she did. Clem pushed the piece forward, ready to sacrifice it for a chance to claim Sarah's bishop, but hesitated to lift her hand. Looking at the tiny piece and remembering how many times Sarah found ways to use pawns to beat her, Clem moved it back to its original position and considered a different strategy.

The pair heard a door close and looked up to see Jet coming down the stairs. He looked over and was surprised both of them were staring at him. "I… I deciphered the journal."

"You did?" said Clem.

"What did it say?" asked an eager Sarah.

"Not much really," said Jet with a shrug.

"But it must have said something," said Clem.

"Why don't you get the others, that way I can tell everyone," said Jet. "Besides, it'll be lunch before long anyway."

"It will?" Sarah checked her watch. "It's already half past eleven."

"I didn't know we had been playing that long."

"I'll go get Devlin," volunteered Jet.

"I'll get the others," offered Clem. "Sarah, can you check on Omid?"

"Sure."

The trio separated and Clem grabbed a raincoat before heading out into the driveway. It was barely raining anymore and it was only a short trip to tell Patty and Sin what was happening. Heading for Anthony's truck, it only now dawned on Clem that she hadn't actually see him at breakfast this morning, which was odd since he was usually the first one to show up to any meal.

After receiving no response from knocking on the camper door, Clem moved the front of the vehicle to retrieve the keys. Devlin insisted everyone knew where all the vehicles' keys were in case they ever had to leave in an emergency, and so it was agreed the keys would be kept in magnetic boxes hidden near the left front tires. Heading back to the camper, Clem was about to unlock the door when it swung open, revealing Anthony standing in the door.

"What… what the hell are you doing with those?" asked Anthony through his respirator as he pointed at the keys.

"I got worried when you didn't answer the door," answered Clem.

"Well, I'm all right, so do you mind if I have those back?" Handing the keys over, Clem noticed Anthony was wearing long rubber gloves.

"Why are you wearing those, and that?"

"Me? I was just cleaning my gun," said Anthony as he pulled his mask off. "I don't have good ventilation in here so those chemicals were starting to get to me."

"Have you been doing that all morning?" asked Clem.

"Have I?" Anthony checked his watch. "Dammit, why didn't you guys get me for breakfast?"

"Because you never miss a meal," reminded Clem as Anthony tossed off his gloves.

"Yeah, well, I guess this business with our new guest has been putting me off my appetite," said Anthony as he tossed his respirator aside and clipped a sheathed knife to his belt. "So is lunch ready at least?"

"Actually, I'm here to let you know Jet figured out that guy's notebook." Anthony spun around upon hearing that. "He said there wasn't much, but that we should all look at it."

Anthony followed Clem back into the house without further coaxing. Heading into the living room, everyone was gathered around a pair of notebooks laid open on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Like I said, it's not much," said Jet.

"It's nothing," dismissed Sin.

"What's nothing?" asked Anthony.

"The notebook," said Patty as she looked up. "Jet translated it and it's just the same few words repeated on different pages."

"That and numbers in the corners that I couldn't figure out," added Jet. "They're not in order, so they're not page numbers, and they don't look like dates either."

"They're likely code for wherever this kid has been," said Devlin. "The military makes specialized maps that troops can use to find certain locations with just short sequences of numbers. Keeps things nice and covert."

"Shit, does this mean the kid could be working for the military?" asked Anthony. "Or whatever's left of it?"

"Typically, military maps have four digit numbers at the shortest; all the ones in this book are two-digit," said Devlin. "Also, I've never seen these symbols the words are written in either."

"I haven't either, but they were all just substitutions for letters," explained Jet. "I figured it out by starting with the vowels and just kind of guessing."

"The military likely would use something harder to crack," said Devlin. "But then again, it's obvious the chain of command has long since broken down. Who's to say what's left of the armed forces would do at this point?"

"I was thinking, considering everything that's happened, we should use the word Ceres instead of Owens for our code word," suggested Jet, sounding nervous as he spoke. "We'd use the same system, but we'd just mark the letters as if we spelled Owens instead. Like underlining the 'R' in Ceres would be where the 'E' is in Owens, and we'd know to go east, but no one else would."

"That's good thinking. Everyone understand that?" Devlin looked around as everyone nodded in response. "It's agreed then… hopefully we won't need it."

"I understand it's the same amount of letters as Owens," said Sin. "But why exactly did you pick the word Ceres?"

"Because, that's the name of our farm; Ceres Acres."

"It is?" asked Anthony.

"Yeah, you all know that, right?" The group gave Jet a look that made it clear they hadn't heard that name before. "Great, why'd even bother making that sign?"

"I knew," said Clem.

"I know you did."

"What about the photo Clem took?" asked Patty. "Did you translate what it said?"

"It said danger," said Jet. "And there was the number twenty next to it."

"Danger?" repeated Anthony. "From what?"

"I don't know, that's all I could see in the photo."

"It was written on a road, so it might be a warning for others," stated Devlin as he picked up the journal. "And this is clearly a log, probably so if the kid doesn't come back and they find his body later, they got at least a partial record of what went wrong."

"They?" asked a nervous Clem.

"It's clear he's a scout," announced Sin.

"Biters, scraps, and literally the word null, over and over again is what he wrote," added Patty. "He's clearly looking for something."

"Did… did he write any other words?" asked a nervous Clem.

"A few. Here, you can read it if you want," said Jet as he handed Clem a journal. "I made sure to write everything down in a separate notebook, so he wouldn't know we translated it."

Clem started thumbing through the journal, looking for jackpot, near mint, dash, and clean. Much to her relief, she didn't see any of those words, but she did find it disturbing how often the word 'biters' and 'null' appeared on the pages. The last page with writing on it read 'THERE IS FUCKING NOTHING'.

"Here wrote this?" asked Clem as she showed the page to Jet.

"I think so," said Jet.

"You think?"

"The handwriting on the last page was really hard to read. I had to guess a little with the letters, but I don't know what else it could have said."

"So we're right back to square one," concluded Patty. "He's working with some group of people and he was hungry. That's it."

"We might know one other thing," said Jet. "Written in the same letters on the inside of the notebook's cover was another word that I think is 'Pedro'. That might be his name."

"Oh, great, that does us a lot of good," said Anthony.

"We know something else," said Devlin as he examined the original notebook. "Whoever he's with, they're organized. I doubt Pedro here picked the route he's taken if he's writing things like 'there's fucking nothing' in his log. Someone else probably picked the locations he was going to, which is what the numbers represent, which would mean they'll have known where he's gone, which could mean if he never comes back, they may come looking for him."

There was an uncomfortable silence as everyone digested what Devlin said. Clem looked around the room at the others, who just appeared to be looking at each other for answers that no one had. The first voice to break the silence was Omid's, who light crying crackled from the baby monitor set on the table.

"I'll go take care of him," said Sarah as she grabbed the baby monitor and hurried upstairs.

"I know some of you don't want to hear this, but we're gonna have kill this guy in the end," announced Anthony.

"We don't know that," insisted Jet.

"He wrote scraps right? He's scouting for food, and he's part of group of people who are probably as hungry as he was," listed Anthony. "What do you think is going to happen if he gets back and tells his group he found a whole farm guarded by a few people, a couple of kids, and a baby?"

"We don't know his group would attack us," said Jet.

"Don't we?" retorted Sin. "You and I saw it in Houston more times than we care to remember. The military hoarded everything and gave the rest of the city mere scraps to live on."

"Same goes for Miami," added Patty.

"Why would these people be any different?"

"Because they're not the military, or they would have just rolled in here and taken our farm already," stated Jet. "Not send out someone who doesn't look much older than me to find stuff on their own."

"That's how OKC operated," spoke a bitter Devlin. "They didn't bother with scouts, they just rolled their whole caravan up to the edge of Tulsa."

"This group is probably just people like us who want to survive, but not at any cost," suggested Jet.

"Or they might pretend to be just long enough to get a chance to stab us in the back," suggested Anthony. "That's how people in Gulf Port operated, they pretended to be your friends until you weren't useful to them anymore, then they'd kill ya."

"The tactics differ, but we've all seen that resources are scarce enough now that people will kill each other just for something to eat." Sin turned to Devlin. "Even when you offered to share with Oklahoma City, they still attacked you. Surely you can't think letting this boy go is safe?"

"I'm not sure what to think," said Devlin as he stood up. "Clem, how about you and I go ahead and talk to him, before lunch? See if we can stress the importance of establishing a dialogue now instead of later."

"Okay." Clem stood up and followed Devlin over to the window.

"We're all hungry and looking for food these days, but if… son of a bitch!" Clem watched in disbelief as Devlin pulled the window open and clambered out through it. As Devlin rushed across the yard, Clem could see the intruder squeezing past a partially opened shed door.

"Shit!" Clem rushed over to the closet under the stairs.

"What's happening?" asked a panicked Jet.

"He's escaping!" Clem threw the closet open and found a pistol, shotgun and hand grenade all inside. She hopped up and grabbed the pistol and its magazine off the top shelf while Patty grabbed the shotgun resting in the bottom half of the closest. While Patty grabbed a fistful of shells, Clem raced outside just in time to see Devlin tackle the intruder. He tried crawling out from under the man while Clem loaded the gun, cocked it, switched the safety off, and aimed into the air.

A single warning shot was enough to freeze the intruder in place as Devlin placed his knee into his back. Patty came racing over, cocking her shotgun as she ran, and everyone else came rushing up behind her. While they all gathered around the recently recaptured intruder, Clem moved over to the shed to examine it more closely.

The lock was still on the door, and instead the door had been partially opened from the other side. Kneeling down, Clem could see the hinge on the bottom of the door had been crudely bent and pried free from the frame, allowing the door to be pushed open slightly on the bottom. Pulling on the door and peering inside, Clem could see an empty bowl and a severely bent fork resting on the ground.

"Little bastard." Clem turned around to find Patty looking over her shoulder. She scowled, then headed towards where Devlin was still holding the intruder in place. "That must have been a challenge," announced Patty in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "Angling that fork through the crack in the door to bust the hinge. Did you refuse to eat in front of us this morning just so we'd leave it with your damn salad?" accused Patty as she cocked her shotgun, expending an unused shotgun shell.

"Where are we going to put him now?" asked Jet.

"The storm shelter," announced Devlin.

"There's no lock on the outside," reminded Sin. "And he could lock us out of it if we put him in there."

"And then a storm could hit and we'd be screwed," added Anthony.

"Can't lock anything with your hands tied," insisted Devlin as he held the intruder in place on the wet dirt. "Anthony, get me some rope."

"Clem!" Clem spun around to find Sarah rushing over. "What happened?"

"That guy got out the shed, but Devlin caught him," informed Clem.

"I heard a shot," said Sarah.

"That was me. It was just a warning shot."

"So, what's happening now?"

"Now… we're putting him in the shelter." Clem watched as Devlin tied the intruder's hands behind his back. Moving alongside him, Clem felt sick as she watched his scared face flinching as Devlin pulled the knot taut. She could almost feel the fibers of the rope digging into her own wrists and found herself nervously tugging on her own bracelet.

The group gathered around as Devlin forced the intruder to the edge of the storm shelter's hatch. He turned around and looked at Devlin, possibly for mercy, but Devlin offered none. Instead, the intruder turned back to the dark hole in the ground and sat down on the edge, struggling to do so while his hands were bound behind his back. He sat there for a second, then finally scooched past the edge. He hadn't even hit the floor when Devlin slammed the hatch shut.

"I told you keeping him here was stupid," said Sin as the group walked back towards the guest house.

"It was the best option at the time," argued Devlin as they crossed onto the porch and out of the rain.

"But not anymore."

Devlin stared at Sin for a few seconds before answering. "No," admitted Devlin. "This isn't sustainable. We need to make a decision, today."

"What do you mean a decision?" asked Sarah.

"You know what he means," said Anthony.

"We don't have to go as far as killing him," argued Patty, sounding conflicted. "If we just… punish him first, then—"

"We're not doing that," dictated Devlin.

"You're really going argue about how it's not right to cause him any pain after what he's pulled?" asked Patty.

"It ain't about what's right, it's about what works and what doesn't. Roughing the kid up but then letting him go is a half-measure; he stills go back to his people, and with an additional reason to attack us."

"So we just let him go, and that's it?" asked an aggravated Sin.

"That… or we kill him," stated Devlin. "Anything else is no good."

"That's not true," argued Jet. "You said in Tulsa you would punish people and only killed the worst ones. We—"

"I said there were people we didn't feel right letting loose," corrected Devlin. "Back then, when we had a whole town worth of people, that was only the worst of the worst. But here, just the few of us, I'm not sure we can risk letting some kid loose if he's out scouting for a bigger group."

"We have to," insisted Sarah. "We can't just kill someone because we're afraid of what he might do."

"What he might do?" repeated Patty. "You forget the part where he shot me!"

"Forget? I'm the one who sewed up your leg!" barked Sarah.

"Do you want him bringing back a bunch of people and have him shoot the rest of us?" accused Patty.

"Do you want to shoot a scared boy in the head just because you're more scared!" retorted an angry Sarah.

"I want to talk him!" announced Clementine in the sternest voice she could muster. "Then we can make a decision."

Devlin sighed. "I doubt he's got anything to say but we might as well try, maybe he'll realize we're running out of patience. I'll go in first and—"

"I want to talk him, alone," informed Clem.

"What? No," dictated Sarah.

"We only see him in pairs, in case he tries something or—"

"And he's never said anything," reminded Clem.

"And you think talking to him alone will change that?" asked Patty.

"I'm the youngest one here, after Omid. And like Devlin said… I've got experience with what he's going through," reminded Clem, trying to sound confident. "Maybe if I just go by myself, he won't be so afraid and finally say something."

"Or maybe he'll see an opportunity in taking the youngest of us hostage," suggested Sin.

"He's tied up," reminded Jet.

"He was locked up until just a few minutes ago," retorted Sin.

"Clem has a gun and—"

"I'm not taking a gun," announced Clem.

"What?" asked Sarah.

"Clem, that's suicidal," said Patty with concern instead of anger now.

"Everyone who sees me with a gun always thinks it's wrong. Like the people I'm with are bad, or I must be bad for having it or… seeing someone has a gun has never made me feel more like talking to them."

"Really?" asked Anthony. "Not even in New Orleans?"

"No," retorted Clem in a harsh tone. "Them holding guns to our heads just made it harder to talk… I could barely think."

"Me either," said Patty in a whisper.

"I want to talk him, alone, without a gun."

"Clem—"

"I want to do this Devlin."

Devlin just stared at Clem for a second. "Actually, I was going to say if you go down there alone, it's better if you don't have a gun. If he were to get loose and get it away from you, he could use it against the rest of us."

"Oh…"

Devlin looked conflicted as he rubbed the back of his head. "I—"

"That's two reasons I shouldn't have a gun then," concluded Clem.

"And another reason you shouldn't go," said Sarah. "It's not safe, we—"

"We can either kill or let him go," stated Clem as she looked over at Devlin. "Right?"

"We clearly can't keep him locked up at this rate, and anything else at this point would be a half-measure," he repeated.

"That's a big decision, so we need to do everything we can to make sure we make the right one," concluded Clem.

"But why you?" asked Sarah. "I'm young too, I've been through… some of the same stuff you have."

"I… I'll go," volunteered Jet, his voice cracking. "I—"

"I want to go," asserted Clem. "Do you?"

Jet didn't answer Clem, choosing to look away instead.

"You want to do this?" asked Sarah in disbelief.

"Yeah, I do…" repeated Clem.

"But… why?"

"I… I just feel like this is something I should do," insisted Clem. "If he's a scout for bad people then we know what'll happen. But if he's not, and we kill him… then we killed someone just because we were scared and… that's wrong, really wrong."

"You know he still might not talk?" said Devlin. "It's possible we're gonna have to decide this based just on what little we already know."

"I still say he'd talk if you let me rough him up a little," insisted Anthony.

"You beat someone hard enough and they'll eventually talk, they'll tell you whatever you want to hear," said Devlin. "But it doesn't mean a lick of it will be true. He'll just make up whatever he thinks will make you stop beating his ass."

"If he can even thinking of anything that'll make it stop…" said Clem as she found herself instinctively reaching for her back.

"And if he's smart, he could use that to talk us into delivering ourselves into some kind of trap, and would feel justified in doing so," added Devlin.

"We're not getting anywhere talking about this," realized Clem. "I'm going."

"What makes you think he'd tell you the truth anyway?" asked Sin. "He might think because you're young he could lie to you."

"I'll be ready for that if he does," asserted Clem.

"Will you?" asked Sin.

"Granddad," scolded Jet.

"We still don't know if he will even talk to Clem, so there's not much point in arguing about it," shrugged Patty. "And I doubt he'd feel more like talking if we're all in the same room as him."

"At least then, the rest of us would hear the conversation," said Sin.

"There's not going to be a conversation if we all go," reminded Jet.

"What if you took this?" Sarah unclipped the baby monitor from her belt. "The one for Omid doesn't have a speaker in it, so it wouldn't make any noise, and then the rest of us would hear what's happening in case… in case anything went wrong."

"We'd be spying on him," realized Jet.

"He spied on us first," noted Anthony.

"That might be for the best. More ears means more of a chance one of us could hear something the others missed," said Devlin. "We can probably clip the monitor to the back of Clem's belt and hide it behind her shirt and jacket." Devlin looked directly at Clem. "Assuming, you're okay with this."

"I… I think that's probably a good idea."

Sarah hurried back to the house and everyone waited impatiently until she returned, carrying a couple of baby monitors along with Omid in one of her arms. Clem handed over the pistol she had taken while Patty clipped Omid's baby monitor to her back and tucked it under her clothes. A quick check revealed even when someone was speaking in front of her, their voice was mostly clear on the receiving monitor. With everything seemingly ready, Clem moved towards the storm hatch.

"Wait," said Sarah as she stepped in front of Clem, a blissfully ignorant Omid giggling in her arms. "I… Clem…"

"I love you Sarah," announced Clem.

"I… I love you too," the pair embraced and kissed each other's cheeks.

"I love you too Omid."

"Muh-boo!" cheered Omid before giggling as Clem kissed his cheek.

"The rest of us can hold up in my living room," said Devlin as Clem let go of Sarah. "There's a window in there that overlooks the storm hatch, so if something happens we can be outside in seconds."

"Got it," said Clem.

"Here," said Jet as he handed Clem a lantern. "I remember it being dark down there, so you'll probably need this."

"Thanks," said Clem as she switched the lantern on.

"Try to get him to tell you his name," suggested Devlin.

"Why?" asked Clem.

"If he says Pedro, we know he's probably telling the truth about at least one thing; if he doesn't, then we know he's probably lying about at least one thing," he explained. "It's not much to go on, but it's better than nothing. Either way, don't actually say that name, or anything else they would tip him off about cracking his log's code."

"Anything else?" asked Clem.

"Just… try to make him think you're his friend. He's already afraid of us and hasn't said a thing. If he thinks he can trust you, he might start talking. And be careful what you tell him. If we do let him go, anything you tell him might be something he ends up telling his people, so think about what you want to say before you say it."

"I will."

Devlin led Clem back to the storm shelter. He pulled the door open and briefly stuck his head inside. "He's sitting in the far right corner," whispered Devlin as he turned to Clem. "I wouldn't get too close to him, just in case."

"I won't." Clem took a deep breath, then headed over to the hatch. She looked over her shoulder to see everyone looking at her in anticipation from the porch, except Omid, who was just smiling. Clem took a breath, then climbed down the ladder, the hatch slamming closed behind her. Even with the lantern in hand, the darkness felt suffocating. Swinging the light around, Clem nearly gasped as she suddenly saw the frightened eyes of the intruder staring at her from the far corner of the shelter.

"Um… hi," said Clem, struggling to think of something else to say. "I… I'm Clementine," she introduced. "And… I just want to talk, okay?" Clem could practically feel the baby monitor poking her in the back as she said that, but she did her best to keep a straight face. There was no response from the intruder, prompting Clem to take a few steps closer to him. "Look, I know you're afraid of us right now. I… I would be too right now.

"We're all afraid. We're afraid, if we let you go, you'll come back with a lot more people and attack us." Clem studied the intruder's face carefully for any changes, but he just looked like he was trying to hide how frightened he felt. "I… I had a nightmare this morning, about someone breaking into our bedroom and shooting me. And right now, I'm worried the people you're helping would do that to all of us. To me, and my best friend, and to our little baby."

Clem could see the intruder's eyes widening upon hearing the word baby. "His name is Omid. He was the baby of a man and a woman who used to take care of me. His father died before he was even born, and his mom… she got bitten by a walker a couple hours after, and me and my best friend have been taking care of him ever since… he had his first birthday just a couple of months ago."

Clem could tell from the intruder's intense stare he was at least listening to her, but she still had trouble reading his reactions beyond that. "I'm sorry for locking you up, and… I'm sorry we tied you up. I… I know what both those things are like. You're scared, and feel sick, because you know you're helpless, and you have no control over what happens next. I… I don't blame you for trying to escape, I would have too… I have."

Still no response from the intruder beyond him carefully observing Clem as she sat down in front of him. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt anyone; none of my friends do. But we have to know you don't want to hurt us too. What happened in the field a few days ago…" Clem noticed the intruder's eyes looking away from her now, possibly from guilt.

"I want to believe that was just an accident that happened because you were scared. I… I know what's that's like too, being out on your own, all alone, and… suddenly you see you're not alone and your terrified of what'll happen next and you think if don't do something… you'll die." Clem felt her nails digging into her palms as she tried to stop her hands from shaking.

"Please, just… tell me something; something so I know you're only being quiet to protect your group, and not because you're waiting until they get here, or anything like that." The intruder merely turned away from Clem slowly, as if to signal he didn't wish to be defiant. "My friends didn't want me to come in here alone, they're afraid you'd hurt me, but I don't think you would. I could tell you didn't want to shoot me in the field and, this will sound strange, but I was locked in a shed by strange people once myself."

This seemed to catch the intruder's interest as he turned his head to face Clem again. Slowly, she rolled up her sleeve and revealed the large scar running across her forearm. "I got bitten by this stray dog while out in the woods one day. The man taking care of me, Omid's father, carried me back to the cabin we were staying in, and then we saw someone talking to Omid's mom. He watched them talk through the scope of his rifle, and someone watching us saw that and thought the worse so… they shot Omid's dad, then locked me in a shed because they thought I had been bitten by a walker."

Clem pulled her sleeve down and took a deep breath. "The weirdest part is… we helped each other after that. Not that Omid's mom wanted to, or me either at first, but these people weren't bad people, we were all just scared, but we took some chances with trusting each other anyway, and… I'd do anything to have them back right now."

Clem looked up to see the intruder appeared wide-eyed with interest again. "Maybe you think because of how we met, we'd never forgive you, or that you'll never forgive us for locking you up, but you'd be surprised. The one person from that group who is still alive is my best friend now. I love her, and I wouldn't have her now if I didn't talk to her dad, who was the one who locked me in a shed on a cold night." Clem looked at the intruder directly in the eyes, expecting him to say something; he remained silent.

"Look, just, tell me anything," pleaded Clem. "It doesn't have to be where you're from, or who you were with, or why, just… say anything, anything so that I know that you care enough that you don't want anyone else to have to get hurt." No response. "Just… just tell me your name. Okay? That's not anything important, not anymore, and then I know you at least want to talk to us, even if you feel like you can't." Clem looked into the intruder's quivering eyes, expecting him to speak any second, but instead he turned away again. "Forget it." Clem grabbed the lantern and headed for the ladder.

"Pedro!" Clem heard a young voice yell out as she placed her foot on the ladder. "My name is Pedro, okay?" Clem turned around and moved back towards Pedro, studying him carefully. He was doing his best to put on a brave face, but Clem could still see hints of fear in the corner of his eyes as she drew nearer.

"Why haven't you said anything until now?" Pedro didn't answer Clem. "If you're just going to be quiet again—"

"You people have a biter chained up in your field," stated Pedro. "Why?"

"It's just to keep the birds away," explained Clem.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Have you ever had a farm?"

"No, but—"

"Then you don't know what it's like having to work hard every day from sun-up to sundown just to see a bunch of stupid birds eat everything," ranted Clem. "We put up wind chimes, we chase them off when we see them, one of us even just started shooting them one afternoon, but there were always more and we only had so many bullets. So, after we noticed animals don't go near walkers, we found one, cut off his hands, then put a helmet on it so it doesn't bite people."

"I did see that," said Pedro. "But I figured that was just so it didn't kill any of you, and that you probably take the helmet off when you're not around, like a guard dog or something."

"No, it's so it doesn't bite anyone," assured Clem.

"Not even the birds?"

"It's not worth the risk of it biting one of us. We talked about knocking out its teeth, but we thought it was too risky, getting that close to a walker's teeth just to scare off crows, so we used the helmet instead."

"If you killed me, how would you do it?"

Clem found herself disturbed by that question. "We wouldn't—"

"Isn't that why you're down here right now?" said Pedro, more accusing than asking. "You're trying to figure out if you're going to kill me or not, because you think I'm dangerous."

Clem sighed. "We wouldn't let a walker eat anyone."

"Then what?"

"I… I guess we'd shoot someone in the head if we had to kill them," confessed Clem, grimacing as those words moved past her lips.

"Is… is that what you did to the last person who came here?"

"You're the first person we've seen since we've moved here."

"Then where did that bloodstain in the shed come from?"

"I told you, it was from a deer."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"So, I'll be the first person you've shot in the head here." Clem racked her mind for a rebuttal, but nothing came to mind. "I… I guess at least it's not painful," Pedro said, his frightened tone betraying his attempt to sound brave.

"It's still wrong, really wrong," insisted Clem as she sat down in front of Pedro. "I've seen people shot in the head, more than once… I don't want to ever see it again."

"If you really feel that way, then just let me go," pleaded Pedro.

"My friends are still worried you're going to hurt us… so am I."

"Nothing I tell you will change that," insisted Pedro.

"How do you know until you start telling us?" challenged Clem. "What if you told us your people wouldn't hurt us?"

"Then you wouldn't believe me."

"Try me," said Clem as she crossed her arms. "I've had a lot of people lie to me before, so I've had a lot of practice with figuring out when they're trying to trick me or not."

"What?" asked Pedro in disbelief. "You're like… what, eleven?"

"Ten," corrected Clem in a harsh voice. "And I was nine before that, and eight before that, and the whole time since this started I've had people lying to me because they think I'm just a stupid kid they could trick. If you really don't want to hurt us, then look me in the eye and tell me that if we let you go, no one will come back and hurt us afterwards."

Pedro looked directly at Clem and opened his mouth to say something, but stopped before making a sound, turning away once again instead.

"You can't say it because it's not true," concluded a dismayed Clem.

"It's not that," insisted Pedro. "If I start telling you things about what the people I'm with will and won't do, and I keep talking, and then you start figuring out stuff about them I didn't mean to tell you, then you might find out where they are, and… you're not the only one here worried about being hurt."

"They told you all that, didn't they? That if you ever got caught, just to say nothing?" Pedro didn't answer. "So that's a yes then."

"They told me not to believe anything I heard and just try to get back," stated Pedro. "They also told me to make sure no one follows me, which means I've got to take a really long, convoluted way back home, just in case any of your people try to, assuming you even let me go."

Pedro let out a long sigh. "I'm going to die."

"We—"

"If your friends don't kill me, then something else will on the way back, assuming I don't just starve to death," rambled Pedro, whatever little resolve he had been keeping in his voice melting away now. "Even before I came here I figured I'd be dead within a couple of years, no matter what happens."

"Yeah, I know that feeling," admitted Clem. "That's why Sarah wanted to start this farm, so we could hopefully start growing our own food, and live a long life."

"Who's Sarah?"

"My best friend."

"Is she that girl with the glasses?"

"Yeah."

"She was the one who told the others not to kill me," noted Pedro.

"She's the nicest person I've ever met," said Clem.

"But she doesn't get to decide what happens to me," concluded Pedro.

"We all decide, together."

"Really?" scoffed Pedro.

"Yes."

"Really?" repeated Pedro, genuinely asking. "Even though you're… ten?"

Clem nodded. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen," answered Pedro. "Those people really listen to you, and her?"

"Most of the time. We always kind of have to prove to people we can take care of ourselves first, but everyone here listens to us. Like I said, my friends didn't even want me to come down here, but they listened when I said I wanted to."

"That must be nice," mused Pedro.

"Nobody listens to you?"

"Never. I didn't even want to do this."

"Do what?" Pedro didn't answer Clem. "Okay, what—"

"Looking for food. I told them I shouldn't do this, but they said we're running out and everyone has to pitch in and that they'd send me somewhere mostly safe, somewhere where they already checked the bigger towns nearby."

"Did one of your people write those messages in the road I took a picture of?" Pedro didn't answer. "They… we figured they were probably a warning or something, but—"

"I don't know who made those. I mean, it was probably one of our people, but I don't know where they go, I've never done any of this stuff until now, so I don't know. All I know is… there isn't any food left anywhere."

"Is that why you were taking stuff out of our field?" asked Clem.

"I was starving, and I saw your field, and I figured if I just take some and leave, that might be enough to get me back home, enough where I don't pass out from hunger on the way."

"Does that mean you were going back to tell your people about our farm?" Pedro didn't answer Clem, but he looked nervous upon her asking that. "I mean, if you were looking for food for them, and—"

"I can just not tell them about this place, I'll say there was nothing here, okay?" offered Pedro in a hasty fashion. "I never wanted to do this anyway. I just want to go home, okay?"

"Okay." Clem swallowed hard as she thought about what she was going to say next. "What happens after that?"

"Huh?"

"Would someone else come here next?"

"I said I wouldn't tell them about this place."

"But if they're looking for food, doesn't that mean they send someone else out to look for food next?"

"Um, I don't know, probably," shrugged Pedro.

"So, so they'd send some else here and—"

"I'll tell them I checked the lake in the area and there was nothing, okay?" insisted an increasingly desperate sounding Pedro. "They… they wouldn't send someone to check somewhere they already know is empty."

"Aren't they already doing that?" asked Clem. "I mean, that warning I took a picture of, it's not far from here, so that means—"

"I don't know, okay!" insisted Pedro. "I don't make decisions like that, they don't even listen to me most of the time."

"If they knew there was a farm, I mean, even if you didn't tell them, but they still found out somehow, what would they do?" Pedro suddenly became silent again. "They'd attack us, wouldn't they?"

"We don't want to start anything, they even told me to avoid people if I ever saw anyone… I should have listened to them," lamented Pedro. "But they don't want to attack anyone, we're just looking for food."

"Which we have," reminded Clem.

"I knew it. I knew you wouldn't believe me no matter what I said," lamented Pedro as he turned away from Clem, sounding like he was trying not to cry.

"I believe you, it's just—"

"You don't," insisted Pedro. "You might as well kill me right now."

"We're not going to kill you," insisted Clem.

"You already said if you did, you'd shoot me in the head," reminded Pedro. "You might as well just do it already."

Clem tried to think of something else to say. Pedro was clearly upset now and she didn't see a way through this conversational impasse. She believed him when he said his people didn't want trouble, but couldn't be sure trouble wouldn't follow anyway. Clem didn't want to hurt anyone either, but if she needed food, or if Omid needed food, she couldn't be sure of what she would do, especially if she knew there was somewhere out there with food left.

"Wait a minute…" Clem turned back to Pedro. "What if I told you there was a way we could help your people?"

"I'd be suspicious, really suspicious" answered Pedro bluntly.

"Yeah, I would too," confessed Clem. "We needed a lot of food to start our farm, but the place we took it from had more left, a lot more."

"And where's that?" asked Pedro.

"In… I'm not going to tell you right now."

"Why not?"

"Because, then you'd have no reason not to attack us," said Clem.

"I told you—"

"I know what you said, but I don't know the people you're with, or what they would do," stated Clem. "So, if we let you go, and nothing happens to us, then maybe you could come back later, and we could tell you then, after we know we can trust you."

"That's it?" asked Pedro.

"You expect more?" asked Clem with a hint of resentment. "You stole from us, and shot my friend, and—"

"Yeah, I know, I just mean… I barely made it this far. I don't even know if I could make it out here again, alive anyway. I mean, my gun was fully loaded when I left."

"Walkers?"

"You mean biters?" Clem nodded. "God I… I wasted most of my bullets just trying to shoot one in the head before it got to me. I can promise you I won't tell my people I was ever here but… I don't know if I could get back here by myself again even if I tried."

Clem thought to herself for a moment, and a new idea formed in her head. "What if I give you something else? Something other than food?"

"Like what?"

"Like how to get past the walkers."

"What do you mean?"

Clem took a breath and thought carefully about what she'd say next. "There's… ways to get past them."

"Like what?"

"If… if you cover yourselves in their blood and guts, they don't notice you and you can just walk past them."

"No way," dismissed Pedro.

"It's true."

"If that's true, then why do you need a mask on that biter in your field?"

"It's smell awful. We put their blood on raincoats, and we still have to wear masks over our faces so we can stand it. Also, it's not foolproof. Rain can wash away the walker stuff, then they notice you again. They also notice you if you make a lot of noise, or if you are bleeding, they smell that. Well, they probably don't actually smell at all, but they know when you're bleeding somehow."

"But they don't know you're there if you're not bleeding and are covered in their… blood and guts?" Clem nodded. "That… doesn't make any sense."

"To be honest, we really don't know how it works, but trust me, it does," assured Clem. "It's a big reason we've made it this far."

"This sounds like you're trying to trick me," accused Pedro. "I cover myself in that stuff and then it turns out they attack me faster, or I get sick and turn into one of them."

"The only way you can turn into a walker is if they bite you, or you die some other way that doesn't mess up your head, then you come back as one anyways."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because before we used raincoats I had to just rub that stuff all over my clothes," recounted Clem with a shiver. "It's gross, and made my skin crawl, and once I even tasted it by accident and threw up. Someone I know also cut his hand on a machete that had a walker's blood on it, but we're still here."

"None of this makes any sense," said Pedro as he shook his head.

"I know it doesn't, nothing about the walkers really does," admitted Clem with a shrug. "But that's what happens. One of us even wrote it all down in a guide."

"A guide?"

"Yeah, he called it the Outbreak Survival Guide," recalled Clem.

"Why did he make a guide?" asked Pedro.

"We realized a lot of stuff we knew most people probably didn't, so he wrote it down and left some copies in a place we visited so it would hopefully help whoever found it. We… we could give you one, and you can take that back to your people. It's not just the trick for getting walkers to ignore you, we wrote down all kinds of stuff that helps us deal with them."

"And, you'd give us this guide?" asked Pedro.

"That's why we made it, to help other people. And, if that works, maybe you could come back later, and we could talk more about your people then, maybe tell them where to find more food if they still need it after that."

"That… that sounds good," realized Pedro. "If this trick you're telling me about actually works, that'd make a huge difference for us."

"It does, and we wrote down a lot of other stuff that would help," said Clem as she stood up.

"So, this means you're going to let me go, right?" asked a hopeful Pedro.

"I have to talk to my friends first. Like I said, we decide things together."

"But they're going to listen to you, right?"

"Yeah, they will."

"And you're going to tell them to let me go, right?"

Clem tried to force herself to say 'yes'. "I'll talk to them," she said instead. Clem left the lantern on the floor, figuring Pedro wouldn't like being stuck in the dark, the headed for the exit. "One more thing," she said before stepping on the ladder. "Have you ever heard of someone called Corporal Cruz? You don't have to tell me anything about them but—"

"I've never heard that name before," answered Pedro. "Is… is that someone bad? Someone we should be afraid of?"

Clem thought on how to answer him. "No," she said. "You don't need to be afraid of her." Clem stepped onto the ladder. "You're not the one she'd want to hurt…" Clem mumbled under her breath as she climbed outside.

It was still raining, but no more than before as she headed for Devlin's house. As she moved across the yard, Clem realized Corporal Cruz knew how to get past walkers too, and probably wasn't part of Pedro's group; this realization did little to ease Clem's racing mind. Stepping past the front door and into the Devlin's living room, Clem looked up to see everyone staring at her.

"Kem-men!" exclaimed Omid as he waddled across the living room.

"Hey Omid," said Clem as she picked up and hugged the boy. Looking at the others, she could see they were all decidedly less enthusiastic. "He—"

"We heard him," assured Devlin.

"You did?" asked Clem.

"We could hear everything Clem," assured a melancholy Patty as she put out a cigarette in an ashtray sitting next to baby monitor resting on the coffee table in the middle of the room.

"Yeah, it worked," said Sarah as she moved to Clem and removed the monitor clipped to her back.

"What were you thinking?" asked Sin in a subdued but still hostile tone. "Offering him the food in Tulsa?"

"I—"

"She got him to talk," stated Devlin. "And all she said is there was food somewhere; she didn't say where."

"Still, now he has expectations, and she told him how to get past the walkers."

"And we haven't decided if we're even letting him go or not," stated Devlin in a stern voice. "So, let's decide already."

Devlin words prompted Clem to take a seat, which she found with Sarah and Jet on an old couch across from a couple of chairs where the others were sitting.

"Here," said Sarah as she handed Clem a stuffed elephant. "He usually sits still for a while if you give him this."

"El-muh," said Omid as he reached up to take his favorite toy.

"You just be good for a minute while we talk to everyone." Much to Clem's surprise, Omid started chewing on one of Elma's legs, which did keep him relatively quiet. Looking up at the others, Clem's eyes fell on Devlin as he cleared his throat.

"I guess I'll go first," he said. "I vote we let Pedro go."

"You can't be serious," snapped Sin.

"I am," stated Devlin. "You want to hear my reasons?"

"By all means," said Sin with a hint of sarcasm.

"The biggest deciding factor for me is that, if what Pedro is saying true, he's probably just one of a bunch of scouts for his group, and if he doesn't come back another one will probably come this way, if just to see if there was any food in the area Pedro was scouting.

"I always figured Tulsa is where we'd make contact, but inevitably we're going to cross paths with other people again. We give him the guide like Clem offered and we could possibly make an ally for the future, or at least appease these people enough to make them reconsider straight up attacking us. We kill him, then we might make an enemy, or at best, just put off another chance meeting for a little while."

"Or for a long while," retorted Sin.

"You're voting we kill Pedro," accused Jet. "Aren't you?"

"I don't take any pleasure in it, but yes," answered Sin coldly.

"I can't believe you," spoke a disgusted Jet.

"Do you want to hear my reasons?"

"No," said Jet flatly.

"You assume we could be making an ally by helping his people," Sin told Devlin while ignoring his grandson. "We could be strengthening a possible enemy."

"Who might have other enemies," said Devlin. "One of his people wrote 'danger' on a road not too far from here; it's possible they're worried about bigger threats we don't know even know about yet. It's a risk either way, but I honestly feel killing Pedro poses a bigger one than just letting him go."

"The only known risk is this boy's people," said Sin. "They're the real threat here."

"We don't know that yet," stated Devlin calmly.

"Don't we? Clementine practically had to verbally batter Pedro just to get him to say his people wouldn't attack us, but he talked plenty about how he didn't want to do this, couldn't use his gun, didn't know what to do, and how he's only sixteen," listed Sin. "What kind of people send some scared teenager out to do their dirty work? Not good ones."

"We use guns, and we're all younger than him," reminded Jet.

"You weren't forced to use guns," corrected Sin.

"I didn't want to learn to use a gun, but you thought I needed to."

"And I never insisted you, Sarah or Clem go out in place of me, Patty or Anthony," retorted Sin. "We agreed to take sensible precautions, but we all agree children shouldn't be our first line of defense."

"So you want to kill the kid they sent out because the people who sent him are wrong?"

Jet's words caught Sin off guard. He sat there for a moment, his face twitching as he thought to himself. "It's a grim necessity to protect ourselves," said Sin in a quick and quiet voice, like he was forcing himself to speak.

"That's just the kind of thing they'd say back in Houston," accused Jet.

"Houston kept up us safe for a long time," reminded a reluctant Sin.

"Until it didn't, because everyone hated living in such a shitty place, and we couldn't even go back to tell the people there how to hopefully survive outside it because we were so afraid of what the military would do to us if we even got near the city," ranted Jet.

"I don't agree with a lot of things the military did in Houston, but some of it really was a necessary evil dictated by the situation… some things they had to do to keep the people already inside the city safe."

"And then people attacked Houston, and we had to leave," reminded Jet in a harsh tone. "Their grim necessities and necessary evil didn't keep us safe; they probably made things worse!"

"How would you know?" spoke Sin in a decidedly unfriendly tone. "You spent almost your entire time there in your room, either in Houston or in Port Arthur. I was—"

"Because I couldn't go anywhere else, and the one time I did it was because they bombed our house!" retorted Jet. "People like them and people like you always—"

"You're comparing me to—"

"Always make excuses for doing horrible things, and act like being selfish is smart, but it's not, you're just selfish and you don't want to help anyone!"

"I never said—"

"The whole time I lived in Houston I told myself the terrible stuff they did to others was necessary— a necessary evil and there was nothing I could do about it. But it wasn't necessary, it was just evil, and I can do something this time, so I vote we let Pedro go."

"It's a bad idea," commented Anthony while staring out the window.

"Of course you think we should kill him," said Jet in a biting tone.

Anthony turned around and looked at Patty.

"You remember what I was like when you people found me?" he asked.

"Yeah, you were starving, and had that awful caveman beard," said Patty.

"And what I'd say when I saw you and Clem and Sarah, all nice and clean and well fed and with that big RV pumping diesel out of the ground?"

"You wanted to join us," recalled Patty.

"That's right, because I saw a good thing, and wanted in," said Anthony. "This kid, he sees the farm, he tasted our crops, knows we know how to deal with the dead, and he just wants to get away from all that?"

"He had just shot one of us," reminded Clem as she watched Omid chew on Elma's ears. "I told him we could still maybe help each other anyway, but it took time for me and Christa to trust the people who shot Omid."

"And even then, we were about to leave each other when we got chased out of the cabin," added Sarah. "After everything that's happened, and after what he did, Pedro probably didn't feel like we'd let him join us."

"And did you have a whole farm back then with food ready to be harvested any day now?" asked Anthony.

"Well, no," said Clem. "But—"

"I pointed a gun at you when I first met you, and you and Patty pointed ones right back, and I still told you I wanted to join you because I was literally starving and I could see none of you were," said Anthony. "This kid, if he's so hungry, should be begging us to be a part of our farm. Instead, he hushed up immediately after we figured out he was part of a bigger group and tried to get back to them the first chance he got, probably because he's already got it in his head they can take this place away from us if he can just tell them where it is."

"That's not fair," said Sarah. "Just because he wants to go home doesn't mean it's because he wants his friends to take our farm."

"He doesn't have to," said Anthony. "If he'll spill his guts for Clem, then he'll definitely tell his people what he saw here today."

"He promised he wouldn't," reminded Clem.

"He promised his people he wouldn't say anything if he ever got captured, and we saw how that turned out. How hard do you think it'll be for the people he already knows to convince him he's their friend? They'd just tell him they'd never lay a finger on us, then send someone here to kill us in our sleep. I mean, how would Pedro even know? He admitted he couldn't even get out here again, so how often do you think he'd check to make sure his people are keeping their word?"

"You don't know any of this," stated Sarah in a harsh tone.

"I know I saw shit like this before in Gulf Port," said Anthony. "People there would pretend to be your friend as long as they were getting something out of it, then slit your throat the second you became an inconvenience."

"So we kill Pedro because someone is using him?" asked an angry Jet.

"Like your granddad said, grim necessity," shrugged Anthony. "And that's assuming Pedro isn't in on it. We've been feeding him fresh food, maybe the only fresh food left in the country for two days, and he still tried to escape, and never once asked if he could stay. I think that tells us who he's loyal to."

"And that means he must be bad?" accused Sarah. "That he's only trying to get away so he can tell his group to come take our farm?"

"That's the safe guess," declared Anthony.

"Well it's wrong," declared Sarah. "If that's what he wanted he would have just been lying to us the whole time, telling us what we would want to hear, or scaring us by saying that warning is about a group of people only they know about, or anything that would get us to let him go. But he didn't, he didn't say anything until now because he wants to protect his people."

"Now who's talking about the kid like they know him?" asked Anthony. "And he said he knew we wouldn't believe him. Maybe he's smart enough to know not to peddle cheap lies that would hurt his chances of getting away."

"That doesn't even make sense," said Jet. "He's smart enough not to sell us cheap lies, then doesn't tell us anything at all? He barely talked to Clem just now. When was he going to launch this master plan of his exactly?"

"He could be pulling a long con?" suggested a half-hearted Patty with a shrug.

"I really doubt that," said Clem. "Like Jet said, he barely wanted to talk to me as it is, and he had all day yesterday to think up lies we might believe."

"And he's clearly afraid of us," added Sarah. "He's just a scared boy, not some… lying, planning, evil genius who wants to kill us."

"Even if he isn't, you want to stake our lives on none of his people being manipulative scheming sociopaths themselves?" asked Anthony.

"Yes," stated Sarah. "And I'm sure Patty doesn't want to kill him either, so…" Turning to Patty, Sarah could see the apprehension on her face. "Patty, you can't—"

"I'm sorry Sarah," spoke Patty in a pained voice. "I don't want to kill him but between our choices… I don't think we can risk letting him go."

"Risk letting… you mean we have to kill him, that's what you mean," accused a bitter Sarah.

"Murder him," added Jet in a biting tone. "Call it what it really is."

"I'm sorry, but—"

"Well it doesn't matter because Clem…" Clem found Sarah suddenly looking right her, and Clem found herself at a loss for words. "You… you too?"

"I… I don't know Sarah," confessed a nervous Clem as she clutched a fidgeting Omid with both hands. "I… I don't want to kill anyone, but I want us all to be safe here, and—"

"I can't believe this," said Sarah, the disgust in her voice wounding Clem.

"So that's four to—"

"I said I didn't know!" Clem snapped at Anthony.

"Well you'd better start knowing, because it sounds like you're the last undecided vote," said Anthony.

"Patty, you can't really be voting to kill someone, not like this," pleaded Sarah.

"Sarah, I—"

"I know you're mad because he shot your leg, and that was horrible, but I think that was just an accident," rambled Sarah. "Like when you tossed that grenade and almost killed Clem."

"What?" said Jet. "When did that happen?"

"That's not the same," answered Patty in a biting tone. "I had no idea anyone was in there—I had just seen that house was empty earlier the same day, and I practically begged for forgiveness from you two when I found out what I… I had almost done. This kid came into our home, took our food, shot me when we found him, and then hushed up the second we found out he was with a bigger group.

"I don't agree with Anthony about a lot of things, but it does sound like even after nearly killing me, Pedro is still more worried about his people, which doesn't strike me as a good sign. Either they're a bunch of really great people he thinks deserve protecting more than us, which I doubt seeing as he was complaining about them sending him out here, or he's fine with a group of assholes who might come here and kill all of us to take the farm."

"You don't know that," repeated Sarah.

"And you don't know he meant a damn word of what he said," retorted Patty. "And even if he was telling the truth, he could be some spineless kid who rolls over for vicious assholes. He could mean it when he says he doesn't want to hurt us, but be too chicken to stand up to whoever sent him off to find us in the first place."

"Like Deacon," said Clem with more than a hint of bitterness. "And if he was a scout for good people, he'd probably introduce himself first, like… like Corporal Cruz."

"Wait, who are you talking about?" asked a confused Jet.

"You mentioned Corporal Cruz when you talked to Pedro as well," noted Devlin. "Who is she?"

"She was someone we met when we first started living on the road, way back in South Carolina," explained Sarah. "She said she was a scout for a settlement and that we could come with her, but Clem thought it would be better if we just stayed on her own."

"But I'm guessing she didn't just spring up from nowhere and shoot one of you?" Anthony's question made Clem's heart beat a little faster.

"No, she announced herself, then put her gun down, then we let her in the Brave," recalled Sarah.

"That sounds more like behavior I would expect from someone associated with a well-meaning settlement," reasoned Sin. "Not like this boy who opened fire on the first thing he—"

"It was a mistake, he was just scared!" Omid started whimpering at Clem's outburst, and she found herself struggling to stop her hands from shaking as she coddled him. "I'm sorry yelled, it's okay," she said in a whisper as she did her best to preempt a possible crying fit. "Pedro being scared and shooting someone doesn't mean he's a bad person, okay?" rambled Clem to the group. "It… it just means he made a mistake."

"It was a pretty big mistake." Clem had to bite her tongue to keep herself from shouting something in response to Patty's words.

"Does… does he deserve to die for his mistake?" asked Clem, barely able to finish speaking that sentence.

"I… I don't know, probably not." Clem felt a tinge of relief to hear Patty say that. "But that's not the issue, the issue is letting him go or not, and I think it's too risky."

"Too risky to not murder him you mean," clarified a still angry Jet.

"Yeah, too risky to not murder him," repeated an irritated Patty. "Like I said, I don't like it, but I hate the idea of losing everything we've worked so hard to build here even more, and Pedro didn't sound so sure that wouldn't happen if we let him go."

"That could happen even if we do kill him," said Jet. "Just like Devlin said."

"But it feels a lot more likely if we let him go," said Patty. "So for me, that's the worse of two bad options."

"Clem, you don't think that, do you?" asked a desperate Sarah.

"I… I don't know," mumbled Clem as she shook her head.

"We can't just kill him, it's not right," insisted Sarah.

"I'm sorry Sarah, but I think this is something we've gotta do," spoke a reluctant Patty. "This isn't an easy choice for me either. I know it's different for you since you've never had to kill someone before but—"

"I've never had to kill someone? Fuck you Patty!" Everyone watched in shock as a furious Sarah jumped to her feet and marched over to where Patty was sitting. "You don't fucking have to!" Patty nearly fell out of her chair as Sarah screamed at her. "You never have to kill, you choose to! You do it because you're scared or you want to, but you never actually have to do it! No one ever has to kill! They choose to do it, but then they say they have to so they can act like it's not their fault! They say that to pretend like it's okay to kill people! They say they had to so they can sleep at night and… and…"

As a trembling Sarah trailed off, the sound of Omid's crying filled the room. Spinning around, Sarah hurried over to the wailing boy and collected him from Clem's arms. "I'm… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I…" Sarah briefly looked at the others, then hurried out of the living room, cradling Omid as she walked.

"Jesus…" muttered a shaken Patty under her breath.

"We… we still need a decision," spoke a stunned Devlin. "Clementine, what's your vote?"

Clem swallowed hard as she thought to herself. Everyone was looking at her now, waiting for her decision. Her hands were trembling as she forced herself to consider her options. She didn't think Pedro was lying to her, but he said himself his own people don't listen to him, and if they sent him out without even bothering to teach him how to take care of himself, then how much would they really care about strangers; strangers with a lot of food no less. Then an image of Pedro being shot in the head flashed into Clem's mind. "We're not killing him," she announced suddenly.

"Clem, we—"

"That's my vote, so that's what we're doing," Clem told Patty directly. "You're only alive because I took a chance and saved you in Titusville."

"And now we have to take a chance on this person?" asked Sin.

"Clem and Sarah took a chance saving us outside of Port Arthur," reminded Jet.

"I think that's a little different from this situation," said Anthony.

"But it's not that much different from yours, and we took a chance on you even though our group was half the size then," reminded Clem. "And I'm only alive because of a lot of people taking a chance to help a little kid. None of us would be alive right now if someone else didn't take a risk and help us at some point; the least we can do is take a risk for Pedro, and hope he does the same for us."

"His people might not return the favor," admitted Devlin as he stood up. "But killing him because they might not value life wouldn't speak well of any of us."

Patty groaned, then stood up and hurried out the door.

"Anthony, help me gather up his things and load them onto his bike," instructed Devlin.

"All right, but I'm telling you, this is a mistake," stated Anthony.

"Jet, you still got one of your guides you can give Pedro?"

"Yeah, I brought a couple with me when I left Tulsa, in case we ever met anyone… I guess we finally have."

"Before you give it to him, you should take out everything you wrote about where we've been," instructed Sin. "If we're making this deal Clem offered him, we don't need to be giving him clues to where the food she mentioned is."

"I could take out the page about Tulsa, but taking out that whole section would mean taking out the warnings about New Orleans and everywhere else they should avoid," realized Jet. "We can't—"

"Sin's right, we don't need to be giving them clues about where we were. Even if Pedro is honest, it would only take one person in his group connecting the dots to figure out Tulsa is where we came from," stated Devlin. "And we don't want them figuring that out without us because it would take away the only leverage we would have if these people aren't… affable."

"We… uh… okay," conceded Jet before walking to the door with his granddad. Devlin looked at the Anthony, and the pair headed outside next, leaving Clem by herself. She stood up and followed the path Sarah had taken to find her friend playing with Omid on Devlin's bed.

"Peek-a-boo!" announced Sarah as she moved her hands so Omid could see her face. "Where's the baby?" asked Sarah as she covered a giggling Omid's face. She waited for his giggling to stop, then ripped her hands away. "There's the baby!" exclaimed Sarah to an outburst of laughter and squealing from Omid.

"You feel any better?"

Sarah looked over her shoulder at Clem, and almost instantly her smile was replaced with a frown.

"I'm… I'm okay," insisted a shaken Sarah as she turned back to Omid.

"You don't have to be," assured a sympathetic Clementine as she placed her hands on Sarah's shoulders.

"It's just… her saying that," Clem could see Sarah's face scrunching up in agony. "I…"

"It's okay," insisted Clem. "Just, try not to think about it."

"I… I haven't in a long time." Sarah took a deep breath. "How… how did you vote?"

"We're letting him go," informed Clem. "It's the right thing to do."

"Yeah… but the right thing is hard sometimes… a lot of the time."

"Yeah, well, hopefully it won't be too hard this time." Clem watched as Sarah picked up Omid.

"I'm just gonna take him back to his room," said Sarah as she adjusted her grip on the boy.

"You be good for Sarah," Clem told Omid as Sarah got off the bed.

"Muh-boo," giggled Omid.

"Love. You," repeated Sarah as she looked at Omid. "Can you say love you? Love. You."

"Lub-yoo."

Hearing that made Sarah smile, which made Clem smile. The pair headed back outside. It was still cloudy but it had stopped raining. Sarah headed right to the house and Clem was going to follow her when she noticed Patty tucked away just past the corner of the porch, a cigarette hanging out of her mouth.

"Hey," said Clem as she walked over to the woman. "Are you okay?"

"I… guess so," said Patty with a shrug. "Is… is Sarah okay?"

"I guess so," spoke an unsure Clem.

"I keep thinking back to our first trip out together," said Patty before taking a drag off her cigarette. "When we were talking about… having killed people, I can't remember if you said both you and Sarah had done it, or just you."

"That was such a long time ago. I don't remember either," admitted Clem.

"Maybe you did but in my head I just kept thinking there's no way someone like Sarah could ever kill someone." Patty looked over at Clem. "What… what happened?"

"Someone was holding a knife to my throat… and Sarah shot him."

"Jesus…"

"The first month we lived together, Sarah kept having nightmares about killing him."

"Wait, about killing him?" asked Patty.

"He was just a boy, only a year older than me."

"And… and he was holding a knife to your throat?"

"He had been hurt by people so bad that he didn't know what to do anymore but kill people and take what they had. He killed Omid's mom and Nick just because he wanted what they had, and he planned on doing the same to us."

"And Sarah felt bad for shooting him?"

"She tried talking to him, telling him we wouldn't hurt him if he just let us go. He listened to her, but he was still so afraid Sarah would shoot him if he let me go that he tried to take the gun from her… and that's when she shot him."

"God damn… she… she must hate me right now." Patty looked over at Clem. "I guess you hate me too."

"I don't hate you," assured Clem.

"But."

"But… I'm just surprised. You just seemed so sure we had to kill him, like you didn't even have to think about it."

"I…" Patty turned away, then took a deep breath and looked back at Clem, shame hanging off her face. "I really didn't, did I?"

"Huh?"

"Have to think about killing him. I… I never thought it would be that easy, I always figured if something like this happened I'd have to agonize over it… but no." Patty dropped her cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out. "I'm starting to think it was easier living on the road. When we saw trouble then, we could just drive the hell away."

"We couldn't live on the road forever, you know that," said Clem.

"Yeah." Patty walked off towards the driveway.

"Where are you going?" asked Clem.

"Nowhere I guess," she said with a shrug. "This is where we live now."

Patty disappeared from view behind the Brave, leaving Clem alone again. Turning around, she could see the others gathered around the hatch to the storm shelter and moved to join them. Nearing the group, she watched as Pedro climbed out of the hatch, Anthony following right behind him. He stopped in front of Devlin, who was holding Pedro's bike upright in one hand and his backpack in the other.

"You okay?" asked Devlin as Pedro rubbed his wrist. "I didn't hurt you when I tied you up did I?"

"Not tying me up," said Pedro as he looked at Anthony. "He nicked me a little when he cut my ropes off just now."

"I barely scratched you," dismissed Anthony.

"It's fine though, I'm okay," assured Pedro.

"I just want you to know, we don't mean you or anyone any harm," said Devlin as he handed Pedro his backpack, which he opened and examined the contents of. "We're just trying to stay alive, like everyone else."

"I know, and… I'm really grateful you're letting me go, and… feeding me, even after I shot one of you," said Pedro as he held his head head low in shame. "Those salads were the best thing I've eaten in a long time. We've talked about growing stuff ourselves, but none of us really know how."

"It's hard—really hard," stressed Clem. "We're new to it ourselves, and Sarah had an anxiety attack trying to figure out everything we need to do."

"I wrote a section in my guide about farming," said Jet as he handed Pedro a day planner. "But I wrote it before we actually tried it ourselves, so it's just stuff I copied from books. Still, it might help. I actually check the chart I made for crop growth times every now and then so I'll know when the corn will hopefully be ready."

"Wow, you guys wrote a lot about the biters," awed Pedro as he flipped through the pages. "I mean, they told me you can distract them with loud noises but, I didn't think about using fireworks. And… aim for the ankle?"

"They never heal," informed Clem. "So if you break their ankle, they'll never walk again, and they're a lot slower crawling on the ground."

"If… if I had known all this before I left, I probably could have gotten into that big gas station I wasted all my bullets on." Pedro looked up from the guide. "They could go into a lot of places full of biters and clear them out with this stuff."

"Yeah, that's what we've had to do," said Clem. "And there's usually more food in areas with lots of walkers because most people stay away from them."

"Yeah, I… I see that right here," said Pedro as he eyed the guide again.

"That's why we made the guide," stated Devlin. "Clearing out a few city blocks just the seven us, we figured other people need to know how to fight these things so they could do the same."

"This… this could make a huge difference for us," stated Pedro as he looked up from the guide.

"What are you going to tell your people when they ask you where you got that guide?" asked Sin.

"I'll just tell them I found it in on someone's body," shrugged Pedro.

"And if they ask where you found the body?"

"I'll say it was somewhere in the opposite direction of this place."

"Will you be able to make it back to your people on your own?" asked Devlin.

"Yeah, I think so. I'm a lot less hungry since coming here… again, sorry for taking from your field." Pedro put his backpack on and turned to Clem. "Do you still want me to come back after a while, like we talked about?"

"To talk about the food I mentioned?" asked Clem.

"Maybe, but really I was kind of hoping that we could help you. I mean, this guide you gave us is probably going to help a lot of people," spoke a gracious Pedro. "Is there anything you need?"

"We're fine," insisted Sin.

"For the moment," added Clem as she eyed the dark clouds in the sky. "But if you want to come back in, a month, maybe we can talk more then?"

"All right, that'll give me time to learn all the stuff in your guide so I can make it out here a second time," said Pedro as he pocketed the book.

"Come on, I'll unlock the gate for you." Everyone followed Devlin to the front of the driveway and waited as undid the padlock.

"Whoa, hold up." Clem watched as Patty came rushing out of the Brave. She walked right up to where Pedro was standing with his bike, then cleared her throat. "I um… I brought a peace offering," stated Patty in an awkward fashion as she thrust a bottle of wine forward. "Just so you know there's no hard feelings, okay?"

"You're really giving this to me, even though I shot you?" asked Pedro.

"Yay, I'd appreciate it if you didn't remind me," snapped Patty. "But, thinking about it, if I had been in your shoes, I might be wondering about the people who tossed me in a shed and wouldn't let me go because of a mistake, and I thought this might help a little in convincing you that we're not bad people."

"I don't think your bad people, and I really appreciate this," said Pedro as he took the bottle. "Although, I don't drink."

"Now would be a good time to start," suggested Patty with a limp shrug. "Drinking always helps me when I have traumatic experiences."

"Is… is that the red wine?" asked Devlin as he eyed the label.

"Yeah, I'm not giving him the booze I like."

Devlin rolled his eyes at Patty, then turned to Pedro as he stored the wine in his backpack. "I know what we did to you may have been a little extreme, but it's only because we were worried about what else is still out there."

"I know what you mean," said Pedro as he mounted his bike. "And I'm really glad I found this place instead of somewhere else." Everyone watched as Pedro pedaled down the dirt road. They stood there in silence until he was just a distant dot that eventually disappeared from sight behind the trees surrounding the farm.

"What do you think he meant by that?" asked Sin. "That he was glad he found here instead of somewhere else?

"I think he just meant he's glad he ended up somewhere that didn't kill him," said Jet with a hint of annoyance.

"Or he's glad he found somewhere that can be useful to his people," suggested Sin.

"I really doubt he stayed quiet for two days just to hint at attacking us right before he left," dismissed Jet.

"It doesn't matter, it's done now," declared Devlin.

"So now what?" asked Anthony.

"Now we get back to running a damn farm," reminded an annoyed Patty.

"Right," said Clem with a sigh. "It's stopped raining, so I'll go ask Sarah if there's anything we need to do in the field today… there's always something we need to do."