Dead Days

Chapter Fourteen

Bear Witness

I'm a little late. I got sick with strep over the weekend and other than staring at my TV and wishing for nothing but sleep, something I couldn't lose myself in while taking care of my daughter as well, I really didn't feel like messing with this.

I apologize but here's the next chapter now!

I won't be updating this weekend as it's my daughter's birthday Friday, and I'll be busy with Soccer and her party this weekend.

I've also been writing on an original so my writing for this story has once again decreased, but I still have chapters finished so I shouldn't have to push these updates any further out.

"Some days, you might want to run and hide
To clip your thin wings and hang them out to dry
And though this maybe it's true
It doesn't mean you have to"

-Little Moth by Chloe Moriondo

Landon had watched from his spot with T-Dog and Jacqui as Shane placed a sleeping Maisie in the RV. Maisie hardly ever got tired enough to take a nap. She usually had enough energy to run circles around him all day without tiring out. He frowned at the thought of not having anything to do until she woke. His frown deepened upon the realization that he relied on a four-year-old to keep him entertained more often than not, but Landon couldn't find himself feeling overly upset by it. After all, Maisie was important to him.

He loved her.

She was his responsibility.

It was only natural for him to seek her out and want to be by her side. It helped that she was full of ideas to keep them both from getting bored and out of trouble.

Landon quietly continued to help shuck the peas, a job that he had only agreed to do because Carol had intercepted him as he aimlessly walked around the campsite waiting for Maisie to finish her lesson with Hershel, and he had nothing better to do.

If he was being completely honest with himself Landon found it hard to tell an adult no when it came to helping with the chores.

He still felt as if he owed Remington everything, and helping out was such a small price to pay when it came to the knowledge that he once again had a family.

That didn't keep him from feeling boredom. Especially right now.

Laughter drifted over toward him, and he saw Duane and Sophia playing a little way away. He couldn't make out exactly what they were doing, but he was certain it was a game that had just been made up at the moment, it was a favorite pastime for all of the kids. There were only so many times you could play tag, or red light/green light before growing bored. Remington and the other adults didn't like the idea of hide and seek, and since there were only five of them the games, they could play were pretty limited, so they began to make up ones themselves.

He itched to go join, wondering if Carl was around and if he'd want to play as well.

Jacqui smiled as she caught the boy losing track of what he had been doing, the peas falling from his hands absentmindedly as he stared off toward the other two.

"Why don't you go do what kids do," Jacqui said, a laugh coating her voice warmly.

"Are you sure?" Landon asked, hesitating, as he saw that there was still quite a bit of peas to finish. "I can stay."

"We've got this," T-Dog agreed. "I think we'll manage just fine on our own."

"Go play with your friends," Jacqui agreed. "Kids should get to be kids, not stuck with us older folk."

"Speak for yourself," Amy laughed. "I'm still young." Jacqui shook her head good-naturedly as Landon shot to his feet, thanking them, before running off toward where Duane and Sophia were before anyone tried to change their minds.

"What are you guys playing?" he asked coming to a stop next to them. Sophia smiled, waving him closer, as she showed him the lines drawn in the dirt.

"It's kind of like hopscotch," she explained.

"But more drawn out, and tricky, with different rules depending on where you're at," Duane agreed excitedly. "We worked on it all morning."

"We haven't managed to finish it yet without losing our balance," Sophia exclaimed excitedly. Landon stared at the lines, taking it in, as he saw the way they twisted sharply, and some were even broken up, forcing you to jump long distances, and he wasn't surprised to see that they hadn't managed to finish the chaotic mess they had come up with.

"Wanna try?" Duane asked.

Landon nodded excitedly as he walked toward the point that Sophia was indicating was the start. He managed to get halfway through it, right after the first big jump before he suddenly stumbled, overshooting a jump, as he fell, out of bounds.

"Better luck next time," Duane said shrugging as he made to go next.

"You got pretty far though!" Sophia comforted. "I failed to get the first jump on my first try."

"I've come close to the end, the sharp turn at the end gets me," Duane muttered as he flew past them, moving further than Landon had gotten.

Landon watched closely until Duane ultimately failed once again at the same twist. Apparently, they had made a special rule about it, making it trickier to execute, but Landon was excited to get there and try it out himself.

That was until Carl showed up, and Landon found himself distracted by the new member. Carl was always fun to hang out with, but sometimes the choices he made were questionable. He remembered how angry Remington had gotten the other day with him. So, when Carl came walking up to them, a bright smile on his face, one that spoke of trouble, Landon grew uneasy.

"What are you guys doing?" Carl asked curiously. That smile never left and Landon waited for what he really came over to say. Sophia excitedly told him what they had made, her face lighting up at the sight of him, the two of them being closer friends than Landon or Duane were with them. Carl nodded along, waiting until she was finished, before waving them to come closer. "What if I told you I found something for us to do that would be more fun?"

"What did you come up with?" Sophia asked curiously. Her voice had become softer, following Carl's lead in growing quiet, as his eyes bounced around, obviously looking for adults nearby. The closest ones were T-Dog, Jacqui, and Amy and neither of them was paying that close of attention to them. Landon glanced around, noticing that Shane was still inside the RV, and wouldn't be checking in on them anytime soon. He was both curious, and cautious, knowing that Carl didn't always play things safe, growing bored easily, while having a parent that seemed prone to leaving him to his own devices, and the other always hurt or gone.

Landon felt glad that Remington was the way she was with him and Maisie. Sometimes he felt as if she was holding on too hard, but it showed she cared, and Landon wasn't left with much room to make stupid mistakes.

Like the one he was about to make when curiosity got the best of him and he moved closer to see what Carl was about to show them, rather than listening to his gut and grabbing an adult.

"I found this!" Carl crowed quietly, his voice showing his excitement, as he pulled out a familiar heavy object from underneath his shirt. "You've been learning how to shoot right, Landon? You know how to use it? We should all be learning how to do this."

Landon took a step back away from the gun.

His stomach rolled at the sight of it.

"Where did you find it?" His voice wobbled slightly, not nearly as calm sounding as he wanted it to be, but Landon couldn't help the reaction. "The adults keep that stuff locked up. Hershel doesn't want them out."

Carl frowned.

"I just found it lying around." He grew defensive, pulling the gun close to him, as he bit his lip. "Someone must have forgotten about it."

"Maybe you should go give it to someone. Tell them that you just found it."

"He's right," Sophia said softly. "We could get in trouble." Her eyes bounced over in the general direction her mother was, but neither kid could see the woman.

"We're not lucky like you," Carl said, sounding hurt, and irritated. Not at Landon but at the situation. "Our parents won't let us learn. Remi teaches you things to survive but ours are too worried about us being kids. Being a kid won't keep me alive." His face had turned hard, that frown turning into a scowl, as what could only be described by fear, and worry entered his voice.

Landon felt himself stiffen.

He was only eight, but Landon had always felt older beyond his years, having a better understanding, and mentality than most kids his age. That had only heightened once the dead started walking and he was given the task of watching after Maisie. He thought maturely. Landon understood what Carl was talking about. He had overheard the disapproval in Remington when she was shot down by the other parents. At least Sophia was now gaining other kinds of survival knowledge, even if her mother wouldn't let her touch an actual weapon, it was at least something.

Landon suspected that Duane was being taught something by his dad, but it wasn't much. And Carl, well Carl had been loud about his complaining about how his mother didn't want him anywhere near the lessons Remington taught, even though his father had begun to argue on his behalf. It looked like Carl had grown fed up with the constant bickering between his parents and decided to take matters into his own hands.

It wasn't the right call in Landon's opinion, but he couldn't help but feel for the older boy.

"I-I haven't worked much with guns," Landon said, telling the truth, but he knew how to properly use one. His aim was even pretty decent for a kid his age. He felt confident in being able to hit his target at least, and it was the only reason Remi hadn't pressed him to continue with learning. He hadn't told her about his true feelings on the gun issue. Landon knew how important it was for him to learn, to know properly how to use one, but it didn't mean he was going to go the extra mile with the training either.

He much preferred his blades. He had decided a long time ago to become proficient with them to the point that he wouldn't need a gun. Daryl had even mentioned to him about finding some kind of bow for him to use. Both would be better options than the gun.

Duane had begun to look a little twitchy the longer the gun was out in the open. His eyes had begun to bounce around and Landon suspected that if the adults watched a little closer, they would begin to notice something off and investigate.

Once again, Landon felt the need to be the more mature one, even though he was the youngest. At least Sophia seemed to be keeping her head on her shoulders and was agreeing with him, so he felt that between the two of them, he could talk Carl down. As long as she didn't end up bending to Carl's will that was or taking off to tell on them.

Carl was right. He should have been allowed to learn how to protect himself, but Landon was smart. This would not give him the upper hand in having any of the adults believe that Carl could handle being taught to use weapons.

"You wanna be taught how to protect yourself right?" Landon asked, jumping straight into the plan to get rid of the gun as fast as possible and keep them from getting in trouble. "This isn't the way to go about it. Your momma's gonna kick your ass instead of allowing you to learn anything." Landon winced at the curse that fell from his lips, but he decided that this would just be his little secret. Remington wouldn't be amused by the curse, but he also didn't think she would mind in this case. "I'll help you get permission, but you gotta give me the gun."

Carl had shrunk in on himself, realization over what Landon was saying getting to him, but there was still a streak of stubbornness as he shook his head.

"She'll never agree to me learning, it's why I gotta do it in secret! Are you gonna help or not?"

"I'll help! I bet I can get it so that you are allowed to train with us. You just gotta trust me and give me the gun."

Carl hesitated.

Duane had taken several steps away from them, caught between running off to find his dad and sticking around.

Sophia had started to wring her hands, a worried look on her face, but she had stood her ground, not walking away, or looking like she would.

"You should listen to him," she finally said, that voice of hers still quiet, but growing firmer.

"You won't tell on me, right?" Carl asked, starting to shuffle as he realized the gravity of the situation, he had put himself in.

"I've gotta tell Shane, but he'll make sure that you get those lessons." Landon believed wholeheartedly in this. Shane had proven himself to the boy time and time again, and he truly believed he'd listen to Landon before dishing out punishments. Carl would still get in trouble, Landon knew this and decided against telling the boy that, but he also believed he could get the help this boy desperately wanted by doing his plan. Landon hoped that Carl was truly as close to Shane as he thought he was so that the other boy trusted him to go through with the plan. "Remington will make sure of it too."

Landon figured once she heard about why Carl had done this, and Landon would make sure she did, that there would be nothing that could hold her back from teaching Carl. As soon as she learned about how afraid Carl had become even Lori wouldn't be able to keep him from joining in on the lessons.

Carl still seemed unsure, but he relented, holding out the gun, in a way that made Landon twitch, as he quickly and correctly held the gun, just to get it out of the inexperienced hands that belonged to Carl.

His gut rolled at the contact of the cool metal as he checked to make sure the safety was on. Then he quickly stuffed it under his shirt, into the waistband of his pants, as he nodded at Carl.

"Promise you'll help me."

"Promise." Landon then turned, fleeing across the grass, toward where Shane had begun to exit the RV, as he desperately wished to be rid of the weapon that burned his skin.

An unnatural fear crept under his skin.

He remembered the sound of a gun going off. It nearly knocked him off balance as he struggled to keep walking, and not give in to the urge to vomit and shake in fear. His back was stiff, his stride as long as his short legs allowed them to be, as he caught the gaze of Shane. His white tank top clung to his skin, sweat building from the sensation inside his mind, and not the hot sun bearing down on him. He had paled, his hair normally wavy, and falling into his face, but was now hanging limp, fitting his mood.

Shane frowned as he caught sight of the boy and how unwell he was looking. For a moment he wondered if he was going to have another child that he was going to have to be upset on the behalf of. He hoped no one had made him want to cry as well. Shane didn't think he would react as diplomatically a second time.

"Hey, kid, something wrong?"' He reached out, moving the back of his hand to check the boy's forehead, noticing how ill he looked, but not finding a fever.

"Can I talk to you alone?" Landon asked, his voice wavering, as he itched to rid himself of the gun. It burned his skin and caused the echoes of a single gunshot to fill his mind. Over and over, he could hear it. The way the room went deathly silent right after. His hands began to shake as Landon fought the sensation of wanting to curl into a ball and cry.

"Sure, bud, let's go for a walk." He reached out, his arm coming to settle over his shoulders, as he began to guide him around the RV. "Hey, Dale! I'm gonna take Landon for a walk down the road a little way. Do you mind keepin' an eye on Maisie for me?"

"No problem! I'll keep an ear out for her waking up. The two of you don't go far and holler out if you need help."

Shane began to lead him away, toward the dirt road, as they walked in silence. Landon didn't speak up until they had turned the corner and trees hid them from view minutes later. His body had begun to shake slightly, and his skin suddenly felt cold, and hot at the same time, and Landon wasn't able to keep it in anymore. He snatched the gun out from where he had hidden it, before abruptly shoving it into Shane's hands, and once he was no longer touching it the noise inside his head eased. He let out a little relieved sigh as his shoulders drooped and some of the feeling came back to him.

"Where'd you come by this?" Shane asked, his voice stern, but it didn't hold an accusing tone to it. Already, Shane didn't believe Landon had a hand in taking the gun.

"Carl found it."

A sigh, heavy, and weary left Shane's lips as he shoved the gun into the waistband of his pants, and he began to rub his face.

"Of course, he did. That kid can't seem to stay out of trouble. He's gonna get himself killed." The last part wasn't meant to be heard by Landon, but the boy heard it nonetheless.

"He's scared."

Landon didn't agree with what Carl did, and he hated having to be the one to hold it, to make sure no one could get hurt, but he wasn't going to let his friend keep feeling this way.

"I know." Shane sighed again. "I know." The tone of his voice had Landon suspecting that he really did know.

"He wants to know how to protect himself. He's afraid he'll get hurt."

"You're a good kid." Shane reached out to ruffle his hair. "You're just trying to help your friend, but that doesn't justify what he did. Carl could have gotten hurt really badly by handling this gun, but I get it. He wants to learn, but Remi's been having trouble talking Lori into allowing him to join you kids, in those lessons. I'll talk to her; we'll figure something out. The best chance we got is going through Rick anyhow." Shane seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, coming up with a plan to help Carl, to get his dad's head out of his ass, and take charge, because Shane knew Lori would never go for it.

Landon shuffled in place, feeling better that he was no longer holding the gun, but wasn't sure if he had done enough to help Carl.

"You did something good for Carl." Shane's voice startled Landon as he glanced up, just now noticing how intently Shane was watching him, as he suddenly knelt down in front of him. "Does Remi know how you feel about guns?"

Of course, he caught onto that.

"Sort of." Landon wasn't able to get anything else out. His throat closed up on him. He hadn't talked to her about the fears that clouded his mind any time he touched a gun. Usually, her presence kept those memories out of his head.

"I've never worked with you with guns before, huh?" Shane said, still eyeing him carefully, as he reached out to brush the hair from his eyes. "I would have noticed otherwise. Remi must not have noticed either, or she would have brought this up already. What exactly happens?"

Landon couldn't help how his feet shuffled uneasily, kicking up dirt, as his eyes bounced around, and he tried thinking about anything but that moment his father had taken his life.

"It's not a problem when she's around. She keeps the memories from coming forward. She feels… safe." Landon struggled to explain it. "It's there, but… it's not."

"Yeah. I get it kid."

Landon wondered how much he got.

"I don't like guns."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

He didn't react. Landon wasn't sure what he wanted. The mere thought of speaking about his memories aloud caused his throat to clamp back up. He didn't think anything could slip out while he felt like this. It was almost impossible to breathe. He settled on shaking his head.

"You should think about talking with Remi. It'll only get worse holding it in like this." Shane kept his hand on the top of the boy's head. His fingers lightly ran through his curls. "Remi, she didn't say much about how she found you, but I understand that you were alone, and with how you're reacting just now, I can make assumptions."

"Hn." It was all that Landon managed to get out. His lips barely opened, and the hum came out distorted and quiet, but he felt rude not acknowledging the man.

"You've got people here for you." Shane patted the top of his head before bringing him in close for a hug. "I'm here for you to talk to anytime. I'll just listen if that's all you need. Or if you just need a hug, like this, then I can do that too."

"C-can we just stay like this for a little longer?"

"Course we can." Shane held him tighter, pulling him closer, as he shifted into a more comfortable position. "For as long as you need."

┈┈┈┈․° °․┈┈┈┈

The walls came into view first, they were brick, seemingly wrapping around the whole complex, and were taller than what these types of places normally built them. It gave him the impression that whoever lived here valued their privacy, and in the case of the small group staring at them, it was a gift. It meant that it would be harder to attract Walker attention if they couldn't easily see them, and the walls were wide enough that someone experienced, and balanced could walk along the tops, avoiding the metal, if they truly wanted to, but Merle was already picturing the structure they could put on the other side of the wall, to give them a proper viewing place for Watch.

He hadn't seen the inside yet, but that instinctual feeling in his gut told him this is what they had been looking for, and all they had to do was team up with a group who had military training. As long as Cromwell and his crew were as good as they stated they were it was a better deal for Merle and his people. It added protection that they didn't already have, and proper training for everyone back at the farm.

Merle was not a man who got easily excited, but he felt it build inside his blood, and by the way, Glenn had started to grin, he was thinking along the same line of thought.

"We haven't managed to get a good look on the inside," Cromwell spoke up, motioning for Daryl to take a turn, which led them to the gate.

Merle expected to see an iron gate, gaping holes that allowed you to look inside the community, but he was surprised to find that it was just as big and imposing, the wood intricate, and beautiful, but held no insight into what they should expect on the inside. It would be hard getting through it if they couldn't find a way to open it.

"Probably needs some kind of code to open it," Daryl muttered, glancing to the side where there was a keypad. "And electricity."

"How are we going to look on the inside?" Glenn asked, starting to sound worried.

"Climb over," Cromwell shrugged. "Taking a couple of people, boost one another over the wall until we can work out the mechanics of getting this big ass gate open."

"Seems dangerous," Daryl stated. "If it's overrun on the inside there won't be no easy way back out."

"Seems like ta type of neighborhood that would'a been evacuated early on," Merle scoffed. "Probably not much ta worry 'bout, unless it was full of stupid people."

"Not a bet I'm willing to take," Daryl grunted, shaking his head. It was obvious to Merle that his baby brother held very little faith in people as a whole, but he couldn't fault him for it. Their experience in life gave way to that outlook, and it was only recently that either one of them began to think differently, at least when it came to the group of people they were with. Some of 'em was still stupid, but they knew how to listen, and with time Merle could see them growing into functioning brain cells.

His opinion about the Korean he had dragged along on this task had already changed, more than Merle had expected, over the last few weeks. The man knew how to get in and out of a place fast, was quick on his feet, and could come up with a plan in a second. Merle could see the usefulness in him. It helped that he was one of the calm ones in the group and had easily given him the chance to show that he could be someone more than the initial hot-headed druggie, that he had portrayed in the very beginning. Merle suspected Remington had something to do with it all.

"Help boost me up, and I'll take a quick look," Cromwell told Merle. "All we can see is the tops of the roofs from here, we need a closer glance, before believing this place could work. For all, we know it's a mess of devastation over there."

"Stick ta the wall, don't try ta go in," Merle said, his voice stern, and full of authority. "If yah git on ta other side there's nothing we can do ta git yah back out."

Cromwell smirked, nodding, as he turned toward the spot in the wall that met in a corner and motioned for him to help. Merle crouched down, holding out both his hands, gripping them tightly, as Cromwell put his foot in the hold, and Merle pushed up, giving him a boost, as the man gripped at the wall, before climbing slowly to the top. Once there he took his time gaining his balance, before moving to stand and whistled lowly.

"Well fuck me sideways," Cromwell laughed. "It's fucking picture perfect over here gentlemen."

"Signs of Walkers?" Daryl asked.

"Not a single one."

Merle scoffed a bit, but that knowledge grew that spark of hope into something bigger.

Cromwell began to carefully walk along the wall, not going far, but gaining more view down the street in front of him. A few houses met his sight before the road diverged off into two different directions, and he could see the beginning of another pair of houses on each side.

"Git up there and take a look," Merle muttered, turning to Daryl, kneeling once more, and gesturing toward where he had his hands ready. Daryl grumbled at the bossy tone, but he handed his crossbow over to Glenn, before doing what his brother demanded. He understood they couldn't just take a stranger's word, and one of them needed to be seeing the same thing. They had to make sure it would really work for their group.

"Drop me and I'm commin' for yah, old man," Daryl warned before he was shoved up, and he grunted, as he scaled the side of the wall. It was not as easy as Cromwell made it look, but he managed. He didn't think Glenn would have been able to do it, and Merle was bulkier and heavier than either of them, it would have been a hassle trying to get him up it.

"Yah got a mouth on yah boy, that's not ta way I raised yah ta be."

"Practically raised myself yah dick." The words fell quietly from his lips as he was suddenly at the top and could gaze at the paradise basically being handed to them on a silver plate.

Cromwell hadn't been lying. The place looked untouched by what was going on outside its gates. Daryl carefully avoided the posh-looking metal as he pulled himself to his feet, precariously balancing on either side, as he watched where he put down his foot. It took only one wrong move to topple off the side.

"See it can't yah?" Cromwell called out. "The potential." He let out a shrill whistle, the sound filling the air, and would have attracted the attention of any Walker in hearing distance. It caused Daryl to stiffen as he threw a glare, but they both watched carefully, waiting to see if any answered the call. Except nothing moved on the other side.

"Could be stuck inside those houses," Daryl warned.

"Could be. Or it could be nothing. Won't know unless we try. If your group joins us, we could do this properly, and safely, without worry about the possibility of being overrun. We could turn this into a functioning home. What do you say?"

"Gotta tell this to Remington." Daryl was nodding to himself, she would want to know about this, and he could already tell she would be excited. It held too much potential, and even though Daryl worried that it wasn't as calm as he could see it being, he also knew that could just be the paranoia talking.

"That your leader? Understandable. I'm sure he'll see reason once you explain it. Anyone in their right mind wouldn't turn down an opportunity like this. Throw in my men, and our guns, and you've got a devastatingly good deal."

"Her." Daryl corrected. "She's the mastermind behind our survival. She'll know what to do from here. She's gonna want to see this place for herself."

"My bad. Just assumed." Cromwell chuckled as he came to a stop to stand next to Daryl. He held his gun in front of him, ready to use it at a moment's notice, but the smile on his face broke the illusion of a soldier prepared for war. "I'm sure she will make the right choice. It's not often a deal like this comes around."

"'Bout that," Daryl frowned, turning to glare at the man next to him. "What exactly are yah getting out of this deal? We're the ones gaining a place like this, and the protection that comes from your experience. What are yah getting? More backs to have to watch after, not knowing if they know their ass ends from their front. You're going into this blind, and you're just all right with that, cause of what? Your numbers raising?"

Daryl was not okay with going into this with all of these doubts floating around inside his mind. He would not let Remington meet this man until he knew for certain that his intentions were only the good sort. Those kids wouldn't even get within a mile of 'em if Daryl thought they couldn't be trusted.

"Your careful," Cromwell hummed in approval. "I like that. It's smart. But these days Daryl, it's about survival, and you can't do that on your own. Humanity doesn't survive if we're all at each other's throats out here, taking one another out, and allowing the dead to win. We've got to start building communities again. My men and I, we're protectors, it's what each of us wanted when we decided to join the army, and those ideals haven't changed. Sure, I've got plenty of reasons that pushed me into this career choice, but I took an oath, and just because the world turned topsy-turvy, doesn't mean I get to sit back and throw it all away. As long as there are people still alive in this country, I plan on doing my job."

Cromwell looked determined at that moment, not a single part of him was trying to hide his emotions, it read clearly on his face, and body language, that he truly felt this way.

"My men and I have run into the sorry sort that is alive out there. I understand your caution. We're not like that. We live to serve and protect. Those are our orders, and we plan on going out that way."

Daryl couldn't help but believe the man.

It could be that Remington's luck was beginning to rub off on them. Maybe, they really had stumbled across yet another miracle in the form of protection that this man so readily offered. That woman seemed to have good things falling at her feet. Daryl felt uneasy at the idea of turning such an offer away.

"Supposed we should have you meet Rem," Daryl shrugged, not thinking it would harm anything if they set up a meeting time, and place. They would not be dragging these men back to the farm, not until they could be trusted beyond a doubt, but Daryl didn't mind leaving that decision in Remington's capable hands.

He trusted her opinion.

If she thought, it was the real deal then he would go along with it.

"We'll meet here, tomorrow, the sun at the highest point in the sky," Cromwell agreed, taking over negotiations without a thought.

Daryl felt no need to disagree with it. He shrugged, nodding his head before they were both moving to climb back down, and Daryl was in no hurry to be doing this again tomorrow.

┈┈┈┈․° °․┈┈┈┈

Luck hadn't seemed to be on their side. They had been searching for hours without any sign of spotting people that could be settled in the area. Walkers, on the other end, they had in spades. Remington felt slightly better with each one they took down, knowing that it wouldn't be the one to harm any of her loved ones in the future, and for once, with her brother at her side, Remington didn't struggle with the fear that they usually caused in her.

The sun had begun its descent in the sky, and she was about to call it, knowing that they were to be expected back at the farm by the time the sunset. It disappointed her that they would have to be out here again, tomorrow, looking for a trail that may not exist, but it was too important for Remington to leave to chance.

There were plenty of groups of people out there that Remi would not allow to just stumble upon them.

Remington needed to be prepared and she just knew this group was nearby, and with the knowledge that they had been an issue in the show, told her that there was a high possibility it would be something forced upon them.

"I think we should start to turn-," Remington had begun, her voice full of disappointment, but was cut off by Jackson.

"Rem, look," he said, pointing toward an opening in the trees. At first glance, it wasn't anything that was worth looking at, but upon closer inspection, she could see the signs of littering, again nothing that would have caught her eye, but then she saw the tire tracks. Jackson pulled the car over, getting out, as he crouched next to them. "They're relatively fresh. I'd say someone came through here about an hour or so ago." He reached out to pick up a can of beer, a good indicator of whom they had stumbled upon, but it still could have just been anyone else. "There was still liquid inside." Jackson pointed down toward the ground where the can had been. "Hasn't had time to dry up yet."

Remington nodded, moving to stand up, as Jackson tossed the can aside.

"We'll hide the car nearby," she said, a plan forming in her mind. "We need to check and see who it is. If it's them we'll stay and watch, figure out what we can see, and if we can overhear any plans."

"Got it." He was falling into soldier mode, taking the orders given to him, as he planned the best way to support her plan. He hesitated as they made it back to the car. "We're going to be late. The group will worry."

"Nothing we can do about it," Remington sighed. "We've gotta find out if it's them, and if it is we need to see if they're moving on or not. Depending on what we find we'll leave, plan, and then come back."

Jackson didn't question her decision. He supported it, seeing it as the best course of action, and falling in line easily.

They ditched the car down the road a way, hidden in the brush, as they took off into the trees, finding the road from before, and moving within the shadows of the trees.

Crouching low, Remington settled in a cluster of bushes, her eyes taking in the camp that lay before her, as Jackson settled in quietly next to her.

"Is it them?" he asked. She knew he wouldn't remember anyone from the show, not a face that had barely been given screen time, but Remington knew she would remember. There were three faces that would catch her attention within moments as soon as she saw them.

People lazed around, and a fire was started in the circle of cars, as night started to fall around them.

Remington listened intently, hearing the voices of men talking, only a splattering of women, three at the most from what she could see, who were clustered together, closest to the fire, with a few men hovering nearby. It looked innocent enough, but Remington had seen the way the women were holding themselves, and her gut turned at the possibility of this being the group they had been looking for.

"We watch, and wait," she whispered back to Jackson. The man settled next to her, shifting his body weight into a familiar position on his stomach, giving him the ability to still see those clearly around them, and hear, but staying out of sight, and wouldn't tire easily. Remington remembered him teaching her this during one of their hide-and-seek sessions when she was younger. She followed suit and settled in for the long haul.

The sun had set before anything had begun to happen. The men had been drinking, growing rowdier as the night drew on, and Remington hadn't managed to catch sight of either of the faces she was looking for. Names had begun to be shouted more often, as the men grew more intoxicated, and had begun to laugh as jokes were thrown around. She listened intently.

Then she heard it.

"Hey Dave, yah asshole, get over here! I wanna start having some fun."

Remington stiffened, but waited, as she watched a man break free from another group, to walk the distance toward the fire. She was barely able to make it out, but his face was familiar, and she was certain this was the man the show.

"It's them," she confirmed.

"What do you want to do?" His voice was pitched low, but with how loud the crowd here was, Remi didn't think they would hear them even if they were talking normally.

"We need to get those three women out of there." Remington worried for them. Randall must have lied in the show, he had stated there were children and women, but from what she was seeing, Remi highly doubted that. She suspected that the women weren't here because they wanted to be. Any time a man had grown close to them two of the women would shy away, moving away from their reaching hands, causing the men to laugh, before they would turn their attention to the third. She seemed to just take it, holding still, stiff, while they messed with her hair, and teased her.

"We wait until after they fall asleep," Jackson agreed. He then shifted, causing Remington to glance over at him, and the serious expression on his face could barely be seen. "They'll know we've been here. They'll come looking."

Remington could hear the warning in his tone. He wasn't trying to keep her from saving those women, no, he would never do that, but telling her the only option they would have left after. There would be no turning away, watching them from afar, as their earlier conversation settled in the back of her mind.

They would be forced to deal with them. Remington couldn't take the chance of them knowing there were others nearby, and not to come looking for them.

The realization weighed heavily on her, but she didn't have it in her to turn her back on those women, just because she didn't want to make the decision of who lived, and who died.

Once again, they settled into silence, not daring to speak, and both knew the order Remington would end up giving later that night. Silently Remi apologized to her three men, knowing that by now they would be worried, and within another hour that worry would only grow. She hated having to leave Maisie and Landon with doubts about where she was, or what happened to her, but Remington couldn't abandon these women, especially not knowing who these men were, and the new knowledge that they would be heading out in the morning. To where she wasn't sure, it hadn't been stated, but it didn't sound like they were leaving the area completely yet, not when another had joked about finding a farm to settle down at, and several others had thrown out encouragements.

That could possibly lead them to find their farm.

"Maybe, we'll get lucky and find a farmer's daughter," one laughed boisterously. "I could go for a romp in the hay."

Remington felt herself grow queasy at the realization of having to do something about these men.

"I'd like to get some action right now, fuck waiting for a chance to stumble upon another girl, not when I got my princess right here!" One of the men broke apart from the group, striding toward the youngest of the three women, the one that hadn't flinched away. Remington honed her gaze in on him, noticing the dirty white shirt that clung to his skin, but her eyes had fallen to the pants, army fatigues. Jackson had noticed it as well. Either he had stolen it from a body, or he was the worst of the worst. Remington found herself itching to dart forward, to grab the girl, who now, looked far younger than Remi had first suspected as the man began to lead her away, toward a lone truck closest to Remington and Jackson.

She wasn't a woman at all. She was young, just a teen, and something rose inside of Remington that caused her blood to run hot, and sick anger to take hold. Jackson reached out, clamping his hand down on her arm, keeping her in place, causing that anger to boil over before it transformed into helplessness, and fear. There were too many of them. Wide awake, not quite alert, but more than capable of shooting, and potentially hitting one of them. There were too many, even if most were drunk off their asses, and it only made them that much more dangerous.

There was nothing that she could do unless she wanted to bring the fury of thirty men down upon them because unfortunately, Randall hadn't been lying about that piece of information.

"Not yet." Jackson's voice was hard, devoid of emotion, the only tell that this made him upset as well. There were only two of them. No matter how talented Jackson was even he couldn't take thirty men head-on by himself, and Remington could help, but it was unrealistic to believe they'd manage to help anyone and keep their own lives in the process. "No matter what happens we wait until they sleep. I'm sorry."

He was sorry, and once the danger was at a minimum, he planned on raining vengeance down upon these men.

Remington's gaze locked onto the girl who climbed into the truck, her body shaking, but before she could decide to do something incredibly stupid there was a yell that startled her and forced her attention toward the other two women. A couple of other men had decided that the first had the right idea, their chatter growing louder, as the night was bathed in acts of horror, and misdeeds. Jackson pulled at Remington, forcing her to retreat, not wishing for her to see what was going on, as his own stomach rolled uncomfortably, but it wasn't the first time he had been forced to wait for orders to intervene.

The women screamed, begging, and pleading for mercy, and Remington found tears coating her cheeks, as she listened on, before allowing Jackson to drag her away. She felt shameful, not being able to bear witness to this torture, that all she could do was let it happen, as she silently prayed for the women to forgive her, as she promised to get them out of there later tonight.

"We've got to do something," Remington cried when they were finally far enough away that the fire was just a light in the distance, and the screams echoed in the shadows.

"We will," Jackson said. His voice was tight, unhappy, but he held a tight hold on his emotions. "We can't do anything right now. We've got to plan. C'mon think, Remi. Those men are making enough noise to attract the dead. We can use that to our advantage."

Remington began to nod.

"All right. Yeah. We'll save them. I just need to get my head to work."

"Many of them have started to go off to sleep, within another hour, most if not all will be resting, besides the ones that are on watch, and even then, they'll be slow to respond. They fucked up, Remi. We've got to be smart, but we'll take them out, I promise."

"They'll be on the lookout for Walkers," Remington said, her mind forcefully ignoring the noises she could still barely make out, as she focused solely on the plan ahead of them. "If we're lucky some will show up. I hate it, but I doubt this is anything new to them, it's probably why they move around so often." Taking a calming breath that centered her, Remington's mind began to work, and she could see a plan forming with the highest rating of success.

"You still remember my lessons on sniping?" Jackson asked.

Remington nodded, having found it to be the easiest lesson he had ever put her through, as lining her target in her sights, from a safe, and far away distance had come naturally to her.

"Good, how do you feel about taking care of the guards, and watching my back as I go into the camp itself? I'll grab the girls, send them your way, and take care of the rest of the sleeping camp myself."

"I can do that."

This is what Jackson did.

It had never been vocally confirmed for her, but Jackson was a ghost, he had been assigned assassination missions in the past. She was certain some of those had been groups like this, where he had gone in, in the dead of the night, taken care of them quietly, and gotten back out, no one the wiser because they were all dead. There had been slips, during some of the rare times Jackson drank enough to get plastered, and others were during his sleep when he would grow unsettled, and nightmares would wake him.

They may not have been the types of missions he went on in recent years, but then again, Remington didn't know any of that for sure. She doubted he ever would come out and tell her. Even now, with the end of the world upon them, he'd keep those secrets to his grave.

"Circle the camp," Jackson said, taking over as the one in command, as he had the most experience between the two of them. There would be time for her to learn, and Remington decided to take this as a teaching moment, as well as the best possible chance these girls had. "Search for signs of them attracting the dead. We can use that to our advantage and then meet on the other side."

Remington nodded before moving in the opposite direction of Jackson. She kept her eyes and ears open, ignoring the noises that were beginning to settle back at the camp, as she pretended not to know what that meant.

She flinched when suddenly, two loud shots rang out, causing her to stumble to a stop, as shouting from several different voices broke the deafening silence.

Something had happened.

Her stomach dropped at the thought that she could no longer hear the women from before, only the angry accusations, and muffled words. Her skin grew icy, not from the cold of the night, but from the thought of what had happened.

Footsteps met her ears next, the loud crunching of leaves, and twigs, telling her it wasn't Jackson, he wouldn't have been so careless, and could only mean someone from camp had joined her out here. Remington lowered herself to the ground, shuffling toward some bushes, as she hunkered down, peering out into the darkness.

There, to her left, she could make out a figure stumbling through the dark, grumbling complaints falling from his lips, as she listened to the buckle of his belt clumsily being undone.

"Fucking dicks," he mumbled to himself as he drew near her bush. "Why'd the hell they let Roy have a turn first? He's fucking crazy." He grumbled lowly as he suddenly shoved down his pants, and Remington felt the disgust claw its way over her face, as she was forced to watch him relieve himself near her bush. "Should'a known I wouldn't get my turn wit 'em." A grunt left his lips as he began to paw at himself, words of what he would have liked to do to the girls leaving his lips and causing a new wave of anger to fall over Remington.

Her fingers fell to her waist, where her machete was, as for the first time in her life, Remington itched to rid the world of a life that hadn't been immediately putting her life at risk. Except, as the words of pleasure washed over him, he had thoughts of doing worse to those around him, and Remington suspected he had done them in the past. It was enough to erase any guilt she may have felt. She shifted, the action causing the bush to rustle, forcing the man to release his dick, as he suddenly glanced around him in caution.

"W-who's there!?" he hollered out. "I can hear yah. I know you're there." He hesitated, believing for a moment that maybe it was one of the others in his group, about to jump out, teasing him about his actions, but it didn't happen. "Not one of us, huh?" He quickly tucked himself back in before moving to grab his gun. "It's all right, you can come out."

Remington had no plans on revealing herself to the asshole in front of her. Not yet.

He shuffled closer, nearly standing in front of her now, but hadn't spotted her in the dark. Remington wasn't worried about it, his eyes never even roamed over her, as he was too busy looking elsewhere, but in the moonlight, with him being this close, she had gotten a look at his face.

His voice had sounded familiar, but in his intoxicated, and aroused state, she hadn't been able to place it. Now, however, Remington found herself looking at Randall. The guy sickened her. She wondered how much he had truly lied in the show, trying to save himself, as he fed just enough true information that the rest could have sounded plausible as well.

Her anger and disgust almost got the better of her when there was suddenly another sound of a twig breaking, and shuffling feet before Randall let out a fearful yelp and a Walker appeared from the shadows right next to Remington. The moan of revelation filled the night's silence, as the Walker strode forward, sights on Randall, and missing Remington, as the louder, and more obvious target stumbled back, letting out a horrified gasp. Then there was another moan, a Walker appearing from their right, shuffling forward, and Remington was suddenly filled with vindictiveness, and hostility as her hand reached out, contacting Randall's leg as he tried to flee, and she yanked.

He fell to the floor with a thump, a startled cry escaping his lips, as the first Walker suddenly fell to its knees, and he began to thrash and kick at it. He turned, reaching to pull himself away when their eyes suddenly met. They widened, shocked, and fearful, before burning with hatred and the realization of her being the reason he was suddenly fighting for his life on the ground of the forest.

"You bitch!" he yelped out, as he shoved the Walker from his body. The second one was almost upon him, and Remington began to silently back up, easing herself away when Randall shot forward. He was off-centered, the alcohol running through his veins, and causing him to be uncoordinated, but he had almost managed to grab her foot. Frowning Remington raised her leg, shoving her shoe against his shoulder, forcing him to fall back down.

She moved further away, not wishing to listen to the spew of insults, and pleas, escaping his mouth as fear and anger waged war inside of him. The two Walkers had finally descended upon him, and Remington knew she needed to find Jackson now.

Walkers had begun to show up. Even if it was only these two for now, they would only be interested in Randall for so long before moving on.

They needed to have their plan executed by then. The Walkers were only to be used as a distraction, but they still had a job to do tonight.

Remington forced any and all doubts from her mind, calling upon a persona of a leader that could do this for those she cared about, knowing it would hit her heavily later on, not guilt over who these men were, they were disgusting, but because it had happened at all.

It wouldn't be the last time Remington would have to make a call like this. She remembered the war that had raged on in the future for Ricks' group, taking lives would be something not new to them, but that didn't mean it made it any easier to handle the aftermath.

This was just happening a little sooner than in canon, but Remington would protect her group from this knowledge, and Jackson, and she, would bear the weight of tonight solely on their shoulders.

This was to protect those she loved and cared about, and if God was listening, a few lives would be saved tonight as well.

What did you guys think?

I like seeing Shane stepping up to his role as a dad to the kids.

Do you think the community that Merle and Daryl found will end up being a good deal for the group? If so, what changes will be made to the storyline?

How do you see the next chapter going down? It's gonna be big and a little emotional, that's for sure. Remi is going to be taking her next step in leadership. That's a heavy weight to be carrying sometimes.