We followed Daryl out of the tombs and through the cell block, and when we made it outside Maggie, Beth and Carl were running out of the building opposite us. Bob and Sasha were closer to the fences in the courtyard but were already there by the time we arrived.

"Get back!" Rick yelled to them as we approached.

They all ducked behind the tower, looking down at the field. Isaac was still outside where I left him and started rambling when he saw us coming his way. "These people drove up to the fences, I couldn't find anyone. They have a fucking tank!"

"It's okay, just stay down," Rick quickly tapped him on the shoulder before Isaac led us to the fence that kept us from the field.

Then I saw them. A huge group of people, five or six cars with a fucking tank in the middle. There were maybe sixteen people all armed to the teeth and hiding behind all of the cars. One was coming out of the middle of the tank, but that wasn't even my main concern anymore. The thing that caught my attention was the man standing on the front of the tank, hands on his hips.

My breath caught in my throat and my hand came up to my mouth. "It's him."

"Him?" Isaac looked more confused as he stared at me. "Him, as in, the Governor?"

"Yeah," Rick agreed in a low voice.

As everyone stepped out from behind the tower, I took a step forward and placed my hand on the fence, just staring at him. My heart was already racing, and my chest hurt all over again, I knew this could only end one way. In a fight.

Then he spoke. "Rick! Come down here. We need to talk."

It was faint, but we all managed to hear what he was saying. "It's not up to me!" Rick yelled at my side. "There's a council now, they run this place!"

"Is Hershel on the council?" The Governor called back, and someone walked to the back of one of the cars and escorted Hershel to the front of the group. Maggie gasped behind me. "What about Michonne? She on the council, too?"

A man did the same thing and brought Michonne to the front, and then they kneeled them both down on the ground before the fence.

"Fuck," I whispered.

When I looked back over my shoulder, more people had gathered outside to see what was happening, but all the new people were more confused than anything. Isaac only had some semblance of what was going on because of our conversations before, about the war and being scared. He glanced at me and I knew he could see it in my eyes again because his hand came forward and rested on my shoulder.

"I don't make decisions anymore!" Rick shouted again.

"You're making the decisions today, Rick. Come down here. Let's . . ." he paused for a second. "Let's have that talk."

It was quiet for the longest moment. There was something different about the Governor this time, the fact that he had a tank but he wanted to talk to us. He needed this place, was my first thought. Woodbury was gone and he had a new group and needed somewhere to live.

He is NOT getting this place, I thought. I worked too fucking hard to let him walk right through the front doors.

I wanted that to be the truth, but he had two of our people down there right now and we could not save them in the same way that we saved Glenn and Maggie. At this point, if it turned into a fight it would probably mean that we lose Hershel and Michonne, and that was not an option either.

Rick looked at Daryl first, and then Carl, whispering that we could do this. I couldn't tell if this was negotiating them or fighting them, because neither seemed like a valid option with the hostage situation.

His hand was on my neck, and I stopped him before he could walk down to the field. "Rick. I . . . I can go down there. You don't have to—"

"I got it," he nodded. "He wants to talk to me."

Daryl helped him open the gate and closed it behind him as Rick. He nodded for me to follow him and I took a few steps back, standing next to him and Sasha.

"We can't take 'em all on," Daryl said. "We'll go through the admin building, through the woods like we planned. We ain't got the numbers no more." I nodded but watched Rick as he walked across the field to the Governor. "When's the last time someone checked the stash on the bus?"

"Day before we hit the Big Spot," Sasha answered. "We were running low on rations then. We're lower now."

"Yeah, we'll manage. Things go south, everyone heads for that bus," Daryl said. "Let everybody know."

"What if everybody isn't on it when things go bad?" Tyreese asked. "How long do we wait?"

"As long as we can," Daryl answered solemnly. I watched as he walked away to roll the gun bin over.

"What's happening?" Isaac asked as I came around to the front again.

I shook my head, unsure of how to answer. I wanted to know what he wanted, I wanted to be down there to back Rick up, but they were just talking. Just like before. It started that way last time and we still ended up in a fight.

Part of me couldn't do this again. The other knew that there was nothing else that we could do. We had to stick to the plan and leave this place, whether we could come back or not in a few days was anyone's guess.

"Ace," Isaac grabbed my shoulder. "Talk to me."

"We're leaving," I said. "You're getting on the bus with the others and we're going. Get your things and get on the bus."

"No—"

"I'm not arguing about this," I shook my head.

"And if you don't make it to the bus?"

"It leaves."

"Ace—"

"I'm not arguing," I said again. "This has been the plan since the first war, if we couldn't fight we run. We save as many people as we can."

Something touched my hand, and I glanced back to see Daryl giving me a gun, the M4 I had grown accustomed to at this point. I swallowed, nodding and taking it from him. After that, he turned to Isaac.

"You know how to use it?"

"I can figure it out," he said.

"We're lucky you kept that armour on," Daryl said. "You're gonna need it."

"Yeah," I hated the irony of wearing it for something completely different. It only reminded me that I had the armour on because I was originally going to head out with Michonne to clear the bodies, but she took Hershel instead and didn't need me then, so she didn't ask.

"Okay. Line up somewhere, get in cover and aim the guns down. Don't shoot until he starts something," Daryl told me. "We don' wanna pick a fight we can't take."

"We can't take this."

"They've gone in to get everyone from inside. Once everyone is on the bus, we're gone," he nodded. "Be careful."

As Daryl walked away to join Carl at one of the fences, I turned to Isaac. "Go inside and grab whatever you need to take," I told him. "Gloves, books, pens, whatever. When they pull that bus around, you're on it."

Isaac nodded. "Yes ma'am."

As a walker came out of the woods, the tank turned and shot it, making more and more noise. If this broke out in shooting walkers would be here in less than ten minutes, the tank was just bringing more in. The fences were bad, if he wanted this place he was just signing a death wish.

"We got to do something," Carl said.

"Your dad's got it. They're talking."

"We could kill the Governor right now," Carl added.

"From 50 yards?" Daryl asked.

"I'm a good shot."

I shook my head. "Don't go down that rabbit hole. I've had so many shots on him, they would've only made everything worse."

"I could end this right now."

"Yeah, or you could start something else," Daryl said. "You got to trust him."

They continued talking, and I could see the desperation growing in Rick's movements. He was shaking his head more and more, waving his arms to try and subdue the men down on the field, but it wasn't working. The Governor held his calm demeanour for the most part, just listening to Rick from the top of the tank.

And then Rick said something that made him jump down towards Michonne and Hershel, and my heart sank. The pit in my stomach ripped open further the closer he got to our hostages, and I clenched my teeth. Someone came around the car and handed the Governor Michonne's sword, and he pulled it out and held it to Hershel's neck.

"No," I whispered desperately.

I could see Beth and Maggie across the way, and they were getting upset over this as well. Carl glanced at me out of the corner of his eye as a tear rolled down my cheek, and I tried wiping it away before he noticed. He placed a hand on my arm that held the gun and gave it a squeeze.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered.

I wished that the roles were reversed and that Carl was the one breaking down so I could be the one to help him through it. Cal had always taken care of me more than I could do for him. On the highway when the herd came, he was the one to hold my hand so I didn't freak out, he was the one to try and stop me from feeling guilty about Sophia, and now he was the one to stop me from losing faith in his dad.

My attention started to change, and I looked at the people to see if they were convinced by any of this. I noticed one of the people on the field, a girl who seemed to be more scared at what the Governor was doing, she didn't want to fight, I could tell by the look on her face.

Nothing Rick said got the Governor to take the sword away though, and my eyes returned to Hershel who didn't look scared or upset, but he was happy. Happy about whatever Rick had been saying to the men, and not the Governor. Something that only made me more upset.

Whatever it was, it didn't matter. The Governor whispered something I could only think to be Liar, and he swung the sword back, before plunging the blade down into Hershel's neck. Blood poured down through his shirt, and Hershel fell over to the side.

I couldn't breathe.

Maggie and Beth's screams were the only thing I heard at that point. And then Rick, who yelled out, "NO!"

He shot at the Governor as he ran back away from the army. Carl sent off a shot beside me with the rifle and I saw the Governor keel over, holding onto his arm. The army shot back at us, and I fired my gun down at anyone who was there.

My breath was still caught in my throat for the longest time, but I held my finger down on the trigger and sent off the longest stream of bullets at the cars, the people around them, anyone. They all dove back and I couldn't tell if I'd hit anyone.

I changed my aim for the man in the tank, because if I killed him then they lost all their control. I just couldn't get a shot on, always hitting the area just in front of him.

Rick fell behind the bus, and I stood immediately. He'd been shot. "RICK!"

"Ace!" Daryl grabbed my arm before I could run for the fence. "No."

"He's shot! He needs help!"

"You'll get yourself killed!" Daryl said. "All we can do is help from him here!"

Eventually, the Governor had caught up with Hershel and finished cutting his head off. I screamed and fired down at him again, but after a moment or so he disappeared behind the tank. I couldn't see what happened or where he went, so when my aim returned to the tank, the man I could have been firing at had ducked down inside and it was rolling forward.

"They're coming in!" I yelled, letting whoever was around know.

The tracks just pushed the fence down with ease and rolled right over the top of them and into the field. The men followed the tank up and into the field on foot, and some drove the cars up into the prison. But we had to move. If we stayed there, we would have been crushed or blown up.

"Move!" Daryl yelled. "Find some cover, or head to the bus!"

"Go, Carl," I pushed his arm.

I tried following him, but as I took a step across to get to the bus or some of the others, I kept getting fired. I would be shot, and the only reason Carl hadn't was because I was keeping them busy. I needed to find somewhere else.

As he went to find cover, I ran back in the other direction, to the side where my workshop was. Again, my direction was cut off before I had the chance to get there. Something smashed above my head, and I flinched. The tank was getting closer and I had no way of stopping it. I couldn't get to the administration building from where I was.

It smashed through the front gate, and I had to run back under the bridge as it came down over my head. I ducked into the eating area in hopes that the tank hadn't seen me. No more explosions came my way, but I was getting shot at.

I had to sit tight, and the shooting moved away from me for a moment. I felt myself hyperventilating, and I looked at the path to the bus again. It was riddled with bullets flying in every direction, and I couldn't make it there without getting shot.

My mind was so blurry for a second, that I barely felt it when someone grabbed my arm. When it registered, I screamed and swung my knife down in their direction, but another hand caught my wrist, and I recognised the rough skin on my own.

Isaac.

"It's me!" He was saying over and over again. "It's okay, it's me!"

"Why the fuck are you here?!" I screamed at him, slamming my hand into his chest. "You need to go to the bus!"

"I-I couldn't get over there!" He was saying, and I could hear the panic in his voice. "I don't even know if it's there anymore, I-I can't see anyone that should have been there. You were the first person I saw."

"Fuck!" I screamed out and looked back across to where the bus was. He was right, from our position we couldn't see it around the corner, and we couldn't run across to check. "I'll lay down some cover fire, and you go."

He grabbed my arm, shaking his head. "What about you?!"

"Don't worry about me!" I yelled. "I'll figure something out!"

"NO!" He snapped harshly, and I stopped yelling at him. "No, I can't leave you here!"

And I could tell he wasn't going to. No matter what I said, if there was no chance for me to get on the bus, then he wasn't getting on that bus. There was no way that both of us could make it across in that direction, and we were cut off from the administration building by the tank, so I needed a new plan.

The plan was to run for the woods if you weren't on the bus, and we needed a way to get to the woods safely. I wished we could still get to the bus because I needed to see if Glenn was there, but we had no hope. We would have to meet up with them outside.

"Do you know where the bus is going?!"

"Yes," he nodded. "Yeah, I-I think I heard it before."

"Okay, that's where we're going. I don't know if it's still here anymore, so we have to go."

"How are we getting out?" He asked.

"Follow me," I said.

Grabbing his arm, I yanked him towards my workshop area. We rushed around the front of the tank, close enough to it that it couldn't shoot at us, and down past the fences to my tools and supplies. I had supplies there, things I could use, ways to make smoke bombs and Molotovs with things I'd been storing in case of another fight.

I got to the fence, and I was able to get better shots on them now, taking out one of the men who had been running towards us. I would be out of ammo soon, left to my handgun, so I had to do something that would stop these people. I grabbed some bolt cutters and tucked them under my arm, worse came to worst, we would have to start cutting my way out.

Isaac's footsteps were behind me, but no one else was around. I was near my things though, close enough. I grabbed a smoke bomb I made before, one that I was planning on using for the first war but never got the chance. I grabbed bombs and lighters and handed them to Isaac so he could put them in his messenger bag. If anyone followed us out there, we'd need the supplies.

And then walkers started getting in, and I swore. "Isaac, walkers!"

He held the gun up that Daryl had given him. We shot at the walkers, but they never seemed to end. When enough of them were taken out, there was a noise behind me that reminded me we were still at war. My head shot around and I saw two people coming our way, aiming their guns at us. Their aim was at Isaac, who was still oblivious, so I grabbed the back of his jumper and yanked him towards one of the boxes.

Isaac made it towards cover.

I didn't.

"ACE!"

A scream ripped out of me as I fell on my shoulder on the ground, blood running down the front of my gear. I listened for shots, but couldn't move my arm to drag myself away without it feeling like it would rip itself off.

Isaac had a hold of my gear and he pulled me back behind the box he was behind and sat me back up against the wall. I could look down at my wound now, seeing the gap between the shoulder and arm piece.

Bullets still pounded around us, but none of the people made a move to run at us, knowing the weapons we had. I groaned and reached for my handgun, but pushing myself from the wall just made my shoulder hurt.

"Ace, I can't—" he choked off, his bare hand just in front of my wound but not able to do anything. I shook my head, telling him it was okay. There was a new look on his face, something hopeful as he said, "I have gloves in my bag. Hold on."

"No," I stopped him, shaking my head.

Even if Isaac could kill them, we weren't sure whether any more would be coming our way when they found out we were still here, a lot of the shooting had died down, which meant that most people were gone. If any of them were still alive, they would hear us killing their friends and follow after us.

"Take the bolt cutters, get out of the fence and run for the woods," I told him through my pants and winced as my breathing shot pain through the wound. "I'll cover you, and if I can make it out then I will."

"I'm not leaving you!"

"You have to," I told him. "You can't help with this. The bullet didn't hit an artery or I'd be dead already, so I have some time. I can't use the bolt cutters with my shoulder like this, all I can do is shoot, and keep their fire on me while you work. Please, you have to go. I'll only slow you down."

"You're gonna make it out of here," he kneeled in front of me, but I was already shaking my head. "You are! You have to. I'll wait for you at the fence, but we're leaving together. Hear me?"

He was so insistent that it made me forget just how much pain I felt for a second. I could follow him to the fence while he covered me, and we could get to the woods together. It was the only option at this point. He dropped a bomb and the lighter on the ground for me, before getting ready to make a run for it.

I nodded, grabbed my handgun with my right hand and shot the men into cover while Isaac ran for the fence. I tried to pinpoint their locations, and when I had it, I lit the smoke bomb and threw it down the way. When the explosion came, I fired my weapon into the areas where I had seen the people. I heard one scream, and I knew I got one. I continued firing that way until the screaming had stopped.

The other person had stopped shooting, and I heard Isaac yell. "I got it! Come on!"

Forcing myself up, something that made me want to be sick, my feet carried me forward as fast as they could. I heard more footsteps behind me and looked back to see two people, one whom had been shooting at us before.

Isaac fired at them and then pulled the fence open for me to slide through. He followed me out and we sprinted down the hill as they followed after us. I heard the rattling of the fence as they came through after us, but we just ran, using the trees as whatever cover we could muster.

Bullets came down between us, and Isaac had to dodge away from me to get away in time. He was behind a tree when I saw him, and he went to step over to me, but the bullets came down our way, separating us.

"Go!" I screamed. He was shaking his head, trying to get across, but they were still shooting. "Isaac! You have to go!"

"I'm going to find you!" He called back. "Head for the bus! I'll find you!"

Isaac ran away, and I saw one of the men following after him. He was unable to shoot him as Isaac whipped between the trees and soon, he disappeared into the distance. When I looked back, a bullet hit the tree right beside my face, and I flinched. There was still someone here.

I couldn't hold the M4 up, for whatever little ammo it had left, it was just hanging around me at this point. I had my handgun up, but as I aimed it around the tree, the person was closer than I realised and knocked me in the face with the but of his gun. I groaned, fell over, and cried out as my shoulder hit the ground.

He stamped down hard, but it landed down hard on my hip. I screamed, and my legs came up, which caused me more pain at the time. When I saw him going to aim his gun down, I raised my handgun and sent three bullets into his chest. He buckled under each one before falling forward on the ground next to me.

The fourth bullet went into his head.

I took a second to breathe, to get over the pain in my face, shoulder and hip, but none of it went away. Every breath added more and more strain onto my shoulder, and I winced as I finally managed to push myself up. I took whatever weapons the man had, which seemed to be a pistol and some kind of rifle. I tucked the smaller gun under the hem of my trousers, on my right leg, and hung the rifle over my body with the M4 and just got used to the weight.

There was an explosion back from where the prison was, and I saw the smoke rising into the sky. I just stared at it, wondering what the hell happened, before crying. Everything I worked so hard to build was gone, all my friends were gone, Isaac was gone.

And I was alone.

I managed to get onto a road, and I planned to keep walking until I recognised some landmarks. I knew where the bus was supposed to be, but I knew it on a map, and being here without a map had me lost. I don't think the bullet hit anything serious. If it hit an artery, I'd be dead, if it broke a bone it would hurt a lot more. What I was really worried about was muscle damage, but even a flesh wound like that would heal faster than anything else. The only issue was that I couldn't stop or check.

The more I walked, the worse everything got, the longer the sun beat down on my head, the blood loss making me dizzy. I was sweating, panting, limping. My throat was starting to feel so dry, but all I had was weapons. I didn't have a chance to grab any supplies, water or food, and Isaac had everything that would have been useful.

Isaac.

He was gone too. I don't know what happened after he was chased away, but last time he was in a fight, Daryl sprained his wrist. He had guns this time, weapons to help him live, but I didn't know if he would be able to kill someone. If he couldn't kill, he'd die.

I shook my head, wiping another tear that fell from my eye. It was getting to the point where I couldn't cry anymore, where my body felt so void of water that tears were just turning into salt, and I had nothing left in me.

Soon, I would have nothing, and I felt my time coming. I wouldn't be able to see anyone again at this rate, because soon I would be the one to die. All I could do was keel over on the side of the road and just die. I would have to stop soon, no matter what happened. I would have to stop, take the gear off, and use my shirt as some kind of bandage. It was all I had anymore.

A glint in the distance surprised me, metallic. It was a car. My eyes were so fuzzy that I couldn't work out whose car it was. Not a bus, not big enough to be the bus. That was just my wishful thinking. Even as it got closer, I couldn't identify it. I should have been able to know what type the car was, but my head hurt so much and my brain felt like it could not squeeze out any more information.

It was most likely the Governor's men, and if it wasn't the Governor's men, the next in line was a generic bad person who would probably kill me. I had my handgun dangling from my hand ready. No other vehicles left the prison, just the bus, so there was a slim chance I knew whoever this was.

I should have hidden. My feet would not take me back into the woods though, and maybe if I could kill whoever this was, then maybe I could have taken their supplies. I had enough rounds to take out a group if my shots were accurate enough. Even if I did run, they would have seen and followed me, putting me in a worse position. There was no chance they hadn't seen me already.

The car pulled to a stop in front of me . . .

And a man stepped out. It was the Mexican man from Woodbury who saved me—he was not going to give me that same courtesy this time. The Governor must have sent people out to catch any stragglers, to kill us.

I lifted my gun and stepped back, but my foot buckled under me and I couldn't support my weight anymore. I hit the ground hard, crying out at the pain and my beretta fell out of my reach. My legs wouldn't take me backwards towards the gun.

"No, no, no," I muttered.

"Jesus . . ." he trailed off, walking around the car door and kneeling in front of me. "You look like shit."

The knife was the first thing my hand found on my holster, and I hoped that my holding it would be enough for him to back off. He seemed to be the only person, but I was barely strong enough to lift my weapon. When I swung it at him, he grabbed my wrist effortlessly and took the knife from my hand, discarding it near my gun away from me. Then he took the other guns from me and left them in the same pile, the pistol, M4 and rifle. All I had left was my axe, but he knew as well as I did that I could not lift the axe.

His eyes trailed down, landing on my shoulder, my white sleeve completely soaked in blood. "Fuck, what happened?"

"Like—" I panted, unable to finish my sentence. Like you don't know. My body felt like it was vibrating, pins and needles everywhere from my arms to my stomach to my face. I was getting worse. I was going to die. I felt dizzy and sick all at the same time, and I was so, so hot.

His eyebrows knitted together as I stopped talking, and his hold on my wrist moved down to keep my hand on his own. I tried retracting my arm, but the light grip on my hand was impossible to escape. He gently pinched the skin above my knuckles and kept his eyes on my hand.

"You're dehydrated." How could he tell? My entire head fell forward so I was looking down at my hand; the skin he pinched together was still raised without his fingers there, not retracting to the same level as the rest of my knuckles. "I've got water."

Pushing himself up, he turned back to the car and opened the door before rummaging through a duffel bag on the back seat. He pulled out a clear, plastic bottle of water, and kneeled back down in front of me.

Drugged! My mind screamed. It has to be drugged! The Governor must want anyone still alive to be brought back, maybe he wanted to torture us or just kill us himself. It was the only reason his right-hand man hadn't killed me yet.

He popped open the lid and held the bottle out for me to take. After a second of me just staring at it, my gaze switching between him and the water, he huffed. "You have to drink."

You can't drink that, I thought. Don't drink it. When he pushed the bottle closer to me, I managed to exert enough energy that I pushed his arm away as hard as I could and knocked the bottle out of his hand.

"Puta madre!" He scrambled to pick it up, muttering curses that switched between English and Spanish, and I took the time to reach for my knife, but he shoved me back and held me in place with a hand on my good shoulder. "Jesus Christ! Stop, I'm not going to hurt you—"

Something changed in his expression, and he lowered his eyes to the bottle in his hand and the small amount of water he managed to salvage. He muttered some more swears in Spanish and shook his head a little.

"Look at me," he said. I brought my eyes back to him and took a large gulp from the bottle. "See? It's just water."

Man, he's committed to the act. I waited for a second longer, thinking that maybe he'd spit it back out or rush to be sick. He did nothing and stayed there waiting for me to understand. (I didn't, but I needed the water). When he held it back up to me, I felt so exhausted that I couldn't even reach out to take the bottle.

He sighed, smacking his lips, but wiped the lid clean with the bottom of his shirt and held the bottle up so I could drink it. I got a few sips, hating every second because the water was warm, and pushed his arm away when I was done for that moment. This was probably a ploy to make sure I got back to the Governor, and I wasn't sure I even wanted to live for that.

"You should drink all of it, I have some more in the back," he muttered, but reluctantly moved it back, putting the lid on and leaving it at my side. His weight shifted forward and he leaned closer to me, pressing the back of his hand to my forehead. "We need to get that armour off. You're fucking boiling."

My history of overheating and the fact that my body had no water anymore was probably going to lead to heatstroke. Maybe that would kill me before he got me back to the Governor. I'd be lucky then.

He unclipped the chest piece and it loosened around my body. Then he grabbed under each shoulder strap and pulled it from over my head. I yelped as the gear let go of the wound, my eyes squeezing closed which caused the skin on my face to vibrate harder and tears pricked in the corner of my eyes.

"Shit, sorry."

He stood up, the gear over his arm, some of the blood getting on his skin. When he turned to put it in the car, I couldn't sit upright anymore. The chest piece had been doing all of the work to hold me up, and I fell backwards so I was laying back on the ground. I groaned in pain, my eyes closed as I breathed heavily in and out of my nose.

Don't faint! My mind was screaming, one final attempt to get me to move. He's going to take you to the Governor! Wake up! My head rolled to the side on the ground, and the last thing I heard was the guy calling out to me before I passed out.

Okay, here it is. Trying to keep on schedule despite the fact that this week has been a disaster for me and I was struggling for a day or two to do work on this or uni stuff but I'll be okay. Still on schedule for now.

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed and let me know what you thought :)