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BabySlothXYaoi- I've missed the Poncho, I must say. Yeah, goodbyes are never fun, but writing them sure was. Happy to hear Ty is appreciated, his dynamic with Rhys is easily my favourite thing to write (sorry Carl)! Gosh, poor you, tests are the worst!

May the Work I've Done Speak for Me.

The windows are cracked open, and a breeze runs through the musty bus, filling my lungs with fresh air. I've always loved being in the car, ever since I was little. My Mum told me once that she would take me for a drive around the neighbourhood to stop me crying when I was a baby, something about the car calming me down. Before getting on the bus, I was worried that my most recent experience of being in a vehicle might have ruined my love of the road, but over the last few miles on the creaky bus, I decide that it hasn't.

The bus is warm, but I keep my jacket on, with the poncho wrapped loosely around my shoulders. Despite the uncomfortable temperature, staying wrapped up makes me feel better.

Just as I begin to fall asleep listening to the old Christian music Gabriel had given us for the journey, Tara turns in her seat to face me, hers being the one in front of mine.

"Hey," she smiles at me, a look of expectation on her face.

"Hi...?"

"I haven't gotten the chance to talk to you yet," her smile fades, "I just uh... I wanted to tell you something."

"I know."

"You know what?"

"I know you were at the prison. I saw you. I know you were with him."

"Brian- The Governor, yeah," she confirms, a look of guilt visibly spreading through her as she shuffles uncomfortably in her seat.

I realise that look is probably the one I've been sporting.

"You don't need to apologise, not to me anyway," I think back to the conversation I had with Rick before we left.

"We're still here, and you've helped make it that way."

She nods, "I'm sorry."

"I said you don't need to apologise for me."

"Wasn't just for you, dude, not all of it," with that, she raises her fist, clenched with anticipation. I give her the fist bump, and she grins at me, which gets me to smile back.

"It's getting a little messy for you," Rosita's voice is carried to the back of the bus by the hot, open air. She's running her fingers through Abraham's flat top.

Abe starts talking about retirement and shaving dolphins.

I look at Eugene in the reflection of the bus' rearview. His frown makes me wonder what's going on behind the mullet. He's always serious in his own unserious way. I guess being the one that holds the secret to saving the human race weighs heavily on him.

It becomes clear that I'm not the only one pondering about his mullet when Tara speaks to him, "Hey, maybe Rosita can give you a trim while she's at it. Party's getting a little long in the back."

Eugene does not look mildly interested in the notion of a hair cut.

Tara leans towards him, "Or is it your source of power?"

I snort at the comment. Tara sits back, grinning, pleased with herself.

Eugene starts talking about slaying lions and killing philistines with the jawbone of an ass.

Samson.

I start to wonder why Rosita is the only person from their group that talks normally. Without the dolphins and philistines.

"What's up?" Tara continues to pry. "Last night?"

"That and tomorrow," Eugene admits, "I'm also thinking on that preacher, what he did."

A leaf flies through an open window, whipping past Tara's head and then mine, before landing on the floor, vibrating from the bus's engine.

"How long will it be?" Maggie now turns around to face Eugene, her and Glenn sitting in front of him. "After you get on that terminal and do what you have to do?"

Eugene scratches his head, "Well, that depends on a number of factors, including density of infected around target sites worldwide."

"target sites?" I ask.

"You mean like missiles?" Glenn turns his head.

Eugene goes quiet for a moment, until... "that's classified."

Glenn rolls his eyes, swiving his whole body to face Eugene, leaning over the seats, "I thought we were over that."

"What if we all live?" Eugene argues.

"Secrets will matter then?"

"They might."

I scoff, sitting back and looking out the window. I don't care how it gets done.

"Why the hair?" Glenn asks him.

Eugene frowns, "Because I like it. No one will be takin' scissor nor clipper to it anytime soon. Do you hear me, Miss Espinoza?"

"Yes, loud and clear," Rosita chuckles.

I can't help myself from laughing.

Maggie looks back at me, "Don't know what you're laughin' at, young man. You need a hair cut too."

I peer at myself in the reflection of the window, my hair almost reaching my shoulder, my once curly fringe, now a dark fuzzy mop hiding my eyebrows. I shrink into my seat at the thought of cutting it.

"The smartest man I ever met happened to love my hair. My old boss, T. Brooks Ellis," Eugene argues his case.

I turn my head on hearing something familiar.

"The director of the Human Genome Project."

I sit up, my tongue caught in my throat.

"He said my hair made me look like, and I quote, 'a fun guy', which I am. I just ain't Samson."

Maggie gives me a strange look, and finally, I find my voice, "Wait, you worked fo-"

A loud bang cuts me off.

The sound of Abraham slamming on the breaks and the bus screeching across asphalt.

"Bitchnuts!" is yelled from the driver's seat as another loud bang sounds from behind us as the bus splutters.

Then we hit a car left in the middle of the road.

The bus is launched through the air.

We flip and roll as everyone gets thrown from their seats.

Glass cracks as metal groans in pain.

Everything goes dark.

"Ellen?"

Who?

"Eugene?"

I open my eyes to the sound of Abraham's voice. I guess I misheard him the first time.

I can't breathe. Something heavy is on top of me, crushing me.

"Eugene!" Abraham's voice rings out again.

I still can't breathe. I try to move, but I can't. Is something broken?

"Eugene, are you okay?" Rosita starts shouting.

My arms won't move.

I can't move my fucking arms.

"The preacher... didn't see another way out," I hear Eugene's voice coming from right next to me.

I realise the reason I can't move. Eugene is on top of me, crushing the wind from my aching chest.

"He's here," I wheeze, "a little help."

Glenn arrives beside us, lifting the giant mullet off of me. I gasp for air desperately, coughing violently, "God, I hate busses." A fierce pain is coming from my leg.

As I'm hauled to my feet by Glenn, we hear the growls of walkers from beyond the busses doors. The whole vehicle is now lying on its side.

Glenn is already at the backdoor, "All right," he points to Abe, "you and I go first, knock 'em back, clear the way for Maggie and Rosita to get out, then we start hitting them, okay?" he's throwing finger points around like a madman.

Abe agrees, "Aight' we do it live. Tara and Rhys, cover Eugene, come out when it's clear."

"Copy that!"

Abraham and Glenn kick their way through the door, and then it begins. Walkers fall left and right. One breaks through the skylight turned sidelight, cutting us off from Eugene as it grabs him by the arm.

I'm on it in seconds, driving my knife into its skull, a sensational thrill running its way through me like electricity.

Flames erupt from the engine, "We need to move!" I call out.

Eugene is a statue, staring at the dead walker hanging in from the window.

"Come on!" Tara urges him, "I know it sucks, and it's scary- but it's time to be brave."

Eugene hugs the wall of the bus tightly, "It isn't voluntary."

"It is when you're screwed either way. So you cut to the choice that might help somebody."

Tara hands him a small blade, which he takes in both hands before pushing forward to the exit.

"Good job," I pat her shoulder.

"Yeah," she says breathlessly.

Outside the bus is chaos, as walkers swarm in from every angle, snarling at their prey.

My shattered spear is in my hand, the sling whipping around violently.

I take out one, then two, now a third. I haven't killed a walker since Terminus, and I forgot how different it feels now. Each one, giving me the strength to handle the next.

One comes at Glenn, rounding the corner of the bus faster than he can react. I don't think before tackling it to the floor, dropping my spear in the process. Lacking in options, and with the walker trying its best to sink its snapping jaw into my face, I do the only thing I can think of, driving my thumbs into its sunken eye sockets, black gunk spilling from them as I crush its eyeballs into jelly. With a few twitches as I remove my thumbs, the walker lies still.

I roll over, off the walker and onto my back, where Glenn helps hoist me to my feet. The chaos has settled as Eugene and Tara drop the final walker.

The group takes a breath, which doesn't last long, thanks to Abraham.

"Ha! You just tickled that dead one's brain, Young man!"

I give Abraham a bloody thumbs up.

Abraham points a finger, "Check Eugene, see if he's hurt."

Eugene waves him off, "I'm fine. Just cuts and dings is all."

"Check him!" Abraham repeats.

"That you're blood?" Eugene gesture to Abraham's hand and the splitting gash that's leaking blood.

"Yeah," Abraham stares at it, "Damn thing opened again. I swear, the cuts are finer than frog's hair. They're just big bleeders."

I look at Tara's confused expression. Glad I'm not the only one that didn't understand that.

Maggie picks herself off the ground from where she'd sat down to rest, "First-aid kits in the bus. I'll check what we got."

As if sending us a sign, the bus ignites, flames spewing from windows and doors as we watch almost all our supplies burn inside the giant metal furnace.

"Got any marshmallows?" Abraham asks sarcastically.

"On the bus," I answer.

"We ain't stopping," Abe lifts a black duffle over his shoulder, one of the few things to survive. "We're rolling on. The mission hasn't changed."

Eugene's point back down the overgrown road, "Devil's advocate, nothing more, we smashed to a stop hard. The church is only fifteen miles back that way."

Abraham looks annoyed by the suggestion. "No. We don't stop. We don't go back. We are at war, and retreat means we lose. The road fights back the plan gets jacked. You all know that!"

Abraham's voice gets louder with each word he throws, his moustache flailing in the rage.

"We will get through this because we have to. Every direction is a question! We don't go back!"

Glenn steps in before Abraham explodes, "Are you okay?"

"I am fit as a damn fiddle."

"We are with you. You are calling this thing. I just need to know you're good."

"This is how things stop," Abraham answers, and I sense another monologue coming, "I can't afford that right now. The world can't afford it."

I look to Eugene, who's watching the bus as it crackles away.

Abraham goes on, "Listen, I took a pretty hard shot to the sack with that crash. I am stressed and depressed to see that ride die, but if you say we're rolling on, I'm good."

Glenn considers this, looking around, getting nods from everyone, including me.

"We're rolling on."

"Maybe we could find some bikes," Tara suggests, still out of breath, "bikes don't burn."

"I don't know how to ride one," I tell her.

Tara grins at me, "That's fine," she responds, "you can ride in the basket, ET style."

With that, we hit the road, walking around the bus to avoid the brewing explosion.

The sun begins to set on us, a golden haze dusting over the asphalt as we trudge along, our feet begging us to stop.

But we don't stop.

Because stopping is surrender, and we don't do that anymore.

We don't know how to.

Someone suggests making camp for the night, but Rosita, as the designated navigator, tells us a town is just ahead.

And she isn't wrong. Over the next hill in the road, a clock tower peaks into view, the hands longs since still. No one around to change the batteries, I guess.

The closer we get to the town, the darker the sky becomes, looming over our approach.

Glenn falls to the rear of the group, joining me.

"Hey man, you doing okay?" he gestures to my slight limp, which I've been trying to give no notice.

"Fine," I tell him, "Bob stitched it up for me before- well before everything went wrong."

"Yeah," Glenn looks at his feet while we walk, "Um, I know I said it before but- What happened before Terminus, I've been there, and if you need to talk about it or anything, I'm still here."

I bring my hand up to my lip, feeling the cut, still healing from the first hit.

"I'm alright. Think I just need to forget about it."

He nods a bunch before patting my shoulder and catching back up with Maggie.

Rosita is the next to fall back to walk beside me.

"Still glad you came?" She asks sarcastically.

I give her a shrug, which turns into a nod.

"You going to tell me why you came now?"

I roll my eyes at her, an exhausted sigh escaping me, "I already did."

"Still waiting on the real reason."

"Tell you what, when I work it out, I will let you know."

We reach the town, the sun barely visible over the tops of buildings.

"Well, we've got a few places to choose from," Glenn says, looking around, stumped by the number of choices for our home for the night.

"How about there?" I point to a small building, the word 'LIBRARY' written above its door, but thanks to poor upkeep, it now reads, "L_BR_RY."

"Don't think we need to brush up on our romance novels," Abraham comments.

"We want a fire tonight, right?" Rosita backs me up, "books burn pretty well."

A silent moment of consideration is followed by a grumble of agreement as Abraham leads us all inside the shadowed building, escaping the rising moon and the distant growls of the dead.

A/N

'May the Work I've Done Speak for Me' Is the official title of this chapter btw... just for some annoying reason, has a character limit on title length. Luckily I had two ideas for the title to this one, and my second choice fitted.

Reviews and Feedback always welcome!

:)