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My hammer is stripped from me. Then my guns. My rifle yanked roughly off my shoulder, a hand ripping my pistol from its holster.
"Nice jacket," a short fat woman with a rough and gravelly voice remarks to Maggie. Her nose is hooked like the witch from Oz.
"For a murderous bitch," another lady adds. She's younger than the first, with ratty hair and a beauty spot popping out as her hallmarks.
"She didn't kill anyone!" I shriek when the young woman puts her gun to the back of Maggie's head. "We just-"
"Did I ask for your input, kid?" the third woman behind me asks, her face still a mystery. "If we like, we'll take the jacket off her before we shoot her."
The gunfire has stopped from the compound. Either everyone we came here with is dead, or the ones we came for are.
Time slips away as we're moved away from the RV at gunpoint and taken into a different part of the tree line surrounding the compound. The sun breaks through tree branches, golden light spilling across the forest floor.
"It ain't right. I can feel it! It ain't stopping!" the guy Carol shot is whining about his arm.
"I'm getting it tighter. Jesus, gimme a second!" the witch faced lady yells at him as she ties his belt around his arm, stopping the constant blood flow from the bullet hole.
I feel like an hour must have passed. I try to check my watch, but a gun gets pointed at my face. The woman who had me at gunpoint before has moved in front of us, scouting the compound with the binoculars she took off me.
She's a pale face woman with wet red hair and small beady eyes.
"Son of a bitch!" The bleeding guy yells at his ill-tempered nurse. "You're cutting off my circulation!"
"Well, sport, it's supposed to!" She snipes back.
I hear a motorbike in the distance, then the crackle of gunfire.
"What the hell was that?" the younger woman asks quietly.
The redhead points the binoculars to the fenced perimeter of the compound, turning her head as she scans for something.
"It's Primo." I get the feeling the redhead is in charge as she narrates the name of someone I don't know. "Damnit, they've got him. Give me the walkie."
The guy does, using his good arm. He asks, "Babe, what's happening?"
She ignores him, clicking the talk button. "Lower your gun, prick. You, with the Colt Python. All of you lower your weapons right now."
There's a pause. I look at Maggie- she's staring at the talkie.
Rick's voice finally responds through the receiver.
"Come on out. Let's talk."
The group holding us hostage starts squabbling over whether they can take our people. When the ginger woman does a headcount out loud, I feel a short-lived relief rush through me.
Everyone made it.
She clicks to speak again. "We're not coming out, but we will talk." The red-haired lady turns to us now. "Names."
When we don't answer, she rolls her eyes. "I'm Paula," she presses the walkie to her chest before gesturing out.
"That's Molly." The witch.
"Lady with the gun's 'Chelle." The young and ratty one.
"There's Donnie." The guy with Carol's bullet in his bicep.
"Now, we're nice and familiar," Paula gives a fake smile before letting it drop to a smirk. "Names!"
"I'm Maggie, that's Carol, he's Rhys."
Paula turns back to the walkie. "We've got a Carol, a Rhys, and a Maggie. I'm thinking that's something you wanna chat about. Now we're gonna work this out right now... and it's going to go our way."
She releases the button, and the walkie hisses at her. Then Rick comes through.
"You can see we have one of yours. We'll trade."
"God damn, Primo," Molly shakes her head, scrunching up her grizzled face.
"I'm listening," Paula responds to Rick cooly.
"First, you let me talk to our people. need to know they're alright."
A walker growls from behind Paula, but she doesn't flinch, Molly taking out her knife and dealing with it.
"I'm gonna put you on," Paula tells us. "You say you're fine. I'll know if you try anything else."
She pushes the walkie in front of Carol's face and holds down the button.
"Rick, it's Carol. I'm fine- but-"
Paula shoves her back, moving down the line to Maggie. "Now you."
"Rick, it's Maggie. We're okay. We'll figure this-"
"Shut up," Paula yanks the walkie away, holding it up to my face next. "Go on, kid."
"It's R- Rhys," I stutter. "I'm fine."
Paula smirks at me. "Good job."
'Chelle takes out another walker, its body thudding at my feet.
"You have your proof. Let's talk," Paula tells Rick.
"Alright, this is the deal... right here. Let 'em go... you can have your guy back and live."
"Three for one?" Paula chuckles. "That's not much of a trade."
The walkie crackles.
"You don't have another choice, or you would have done something about it already."
"We have to get him back," Donnie says through gritted teeth, still clutching his arm.
"Primo can take care of himself," Paula disagrees with him.
"He can patch me up! I need him, thanks to that bitch." Donnie stares down Carol, who surprisingly looks away. "You lost your balls, Paula. You should have shot her in the head so they could hear her die."
"If you could just shut up! I'll solve this," Paula hisses at him, taking the binoculars down but keeping her eyes fixed on the compound.
"Either make the deal, or we go in!"
"She said shut up, so shut it!" Molly barks at him. "You should be glad she doesn't have a sack of gonads to trip over!"
Rick comes back through the radio.
"Look, I know you're talking it over. It's a fair trade. Just come out, we do this, we all walk away."
"Smug prick," 'Chelle shakes her head, her gun uncomfortably close to my face. "He must think we're stupid."
"That's a good thing," Paula states, using her binoculars again.
"Do we have a deal?" Rick urges.
"I'll get back to you." Paula does the equivalent of hanging up on Rick, flicking the off button and clipping the talkie to her belt.
She nods at 'Chelle, and suddenly I feel the back of my jacket being pulled up before it goes over my head, plunging me into the dark.
When I was a child, I heard voices
Some would sing and some would scream
You soon find you have few choices
I learned the voices died with me
When I was a child, I'd sit for hours
Staring into open flame
Something in it had a power
Could barely tear my eyes away
Paula keeps yelling instructions at us.
I can see my feet, but I still keep tripping on every root in the forest. Someone's directing me harshly by the shoulders.
I keep hearing walkers get close before being put down and cut short. My breathing's getting heavier.
I'm shoved into something that's not a tree, metal and glass pressing into me. I hear a car door open, realising that's what it is.
"Get them in the damn truck," someone orders.
I think it's Molly.
Whoever said it, someone else is listening. I trip over my feet as I'm pushed into a vehicle, somebody sitting next to me. I can only see their legs from out of my hanging jacket.
Maggie?
"Omega, omega, Saviors down." I recognise this voice as Paula. She must be on the walkie again because I hear static between her words. "Go to Gamma, code: fire."
"What's going on?" I hear Maggie ask.
She's not the one sitting next to me.
"Shut them the hell up!"
The next thing I know, my jacket hood is removed. I'm blinded for a second, brought back to the moment when 'Chelle tries to force something into my mouth.
I don't think before I react.
I bite down hard.
"Little shit!"
I scramble for the door handle, but a gun butt comes down hard against the back of my skull. In the confined space, my forehead cracks off the side window in front of me. Everything starts spinning at a million miles an hour.
"Stop!" Maggie screams at 'Chelle, her hood off too.
"Hey!" Paula yells from the front seat. "We need them alive."
"Kid almost took my other finger!"
"Damaged goods are worthless in a trade!"
'Chelle grabs a fistful of my hair, forcing my head all the way back until I'm looking up at her behind me. Everything's spinning as she stuffs a piece of cloth into my mouth and ties it roughly around my head, gagging me and making me choke.
"Leave him alone!" I hear Maggie cry before I'm thrown back into the darkness of my jacket, the hood blocking everything out.
"Alpha channel is not clear. We follow the protocol." Paula says after calming herself. I think she's back on the walkie.
The truck engine starts, and I can hear the tearing of duct tape.
We're driving fast. I keep trying to look out my window, but the hood stops me from seeing more than the road. We move from gravel country roads to tarmac.
"Damn, haven't got enough to tie up the kid's hands."
"Just use that bandage shit from his head."
I try to protest through my gag, but a hand pulls down my hood and then yanks the bandage away from my ear. Molly makes a disgusted sound at it as 'Chelle binds my wrists together tightly. My hands tingle from lack of blood flow as 'Chelle flips my jacket back over my head.
I hear the walkie-talkie click. "Where the hell are you guys?" Paula growls.
A man I don't recognise comes back to her. He keeps cutting out. "Out west of the- Fifteen mi- on- way."
The car starts jumping so I watch out the window again. We're going over a bridge.
"We're headed to the break point," Paula tells the stranger on the radio. "Switch to Theta channel, same code. If I'm not there, toggle to Alpha, listen in."
"Copy that."
My vision keeps going dark and I can feel blood trickle down the back of my head where 'Chelle hit me, another streak is running from where my face bounced off the window.
The engine stops.
Someone reaches over me and opens the door on my side.
I'm pushed out. Landing on my face, winded and wheezing.
"Get the hell up!"
I try, falling in a heap when I can't. I can't see anything.
"Damn it. Molls, can you grab the kid? 'Chelle, how hard did you hit him!?"
Someone grabs at the back of my neck. I know it's Molly when I hear her wheezed threat.
"Kid, if you bite me... I'll rip your other damn ear off. Got it?"
A door opens. Not a car door this time. It sounds like metal, old and rusty as it squeaks and groans open. We're in a building now. The floor turns to concreate.
"I hate this damn place," a gruff voice complains, definitely Molly this time, still directing me by my scruff. "'Safe house'," she snorts. "Ain't nothin' safe about it."
"This place is gonna save our asses," I hear Paula tells her.
I'm halted, and there's a sign at my feet that my head's stopped spinning enough for me to read.
'KILL FLOOR & RAW PROCESSING.'
We reach our final stop. I hear a door close, a walker growl, then the echoey thud of a body hitting the floor.
The jacket is taken off my head. The light makes me wince for a second, but then I can look around.
We're in some kind of abattoir. The tiled walls of the slaughterhouse are stained in old blood, a rusted metal trough sits in the room's corner. A shelving unit beside it with tools and boxes on its racks.
Bad memories of Terminus and train cars start flooding back.
"Get on the ground," Paula tells the three of us. Maggie and Carol are as restrained as I am. "You there. Kid against that wall. Lady, sit down over there."
I sit under a window where I'm told to. The walker they put down is right by my feet.
I look up. There are two windows above me, both allowing a dismal amount of sunlight into the concrete room through a thick layer of filth on the glass panes. The roof is made of rusted tin with speckled holes punched through it, a hose is hanging from it in the corner of the room. Exposed pipes are all over the walls, rusted and creeky.
Paula finds more tape on one of the shelves, taping Carol's legs together.
"You're wondering if there's a way out of this."
She moves across the room to me, forcing my legs together and wrapping them with the tape as well.
"There isn't."
Then she secures Maggie's legs.
"Not unless I say so."
'Chelle drags the walker carcase from the room, a trail of dark blood oozing across the floor, it pools up by my feet, sinking into the toes of my trainers.
A flash comes from outside the door after she leaves. Gunshots ringing.
"Paula, I need back up!" Chelle shouts from the hallway, growls of the dead echoing off the walls beyond the door.
Paula grits her teeth, heading for the door and saying, "I want to kill the three of you right now. It's taking all I have not to, so go ahead, I dare you, try something. Just see what happens."
She leaves, particles of dust clouding around the rusted door as it slams shut behind her.
I'm holding my breath because it always helps when I feel like throwing up.
I look around the room, heart in my throat.
It's Terminus again.
It's what happened to me before Terminus.
Every impulse is electrified to one-hundred, all desperate to get out.
Maggie yells something muffled at me. I watch as she pulls herself to her feet by the trough, looking around desperately. She starts using the edge of a broken tile still fastened to the wall, sawing away at the tape around her hands. She tries saying something to me again. I realise she wants me to do the same.
I can't.
My body's not moving.
Fear paralysing me in its fastening grip. Suffocating me.
Maggie grunts at me again, snapping me out of it. Reminding me that I'm not alone like I was before Terminus. That I can't just give up like I did back then.
There's a rusted pipe above my head, sharp-pointed metal jutting at an angle.
We hear footsteps coming back. Maggie quickly drops back to the floor, repositioning herself to how she was before.
Carol catches my attention just before they get back. She's crying and hyperventilating. Both Maggie and I stare at her, terrified, as she squirms against the wall crying and choking into her gag.
"When's the last time anyone checked this place?" Paula complains as they burst into the room. Carrying a much sicklier looking Donnie.
"It was fine a month ago!" 'Chelle tells her, securing the door once everyone's in.
"Sweetie, that was a month ago. Shit hards quick. The guns have gone bye-bye, the food's gone bye-bye, and we've got growlers up and down the halls."
"Means people can get through, too," Donnie grunts. "Maybe we should get gone."
Maggie starts shouting Carol's name, suppressed by the gag. Everyone's seemingly ignoring us.
As I watch Carol convulse in place, I want to believe it's an act. A plan to get us out.
"Got dead in the halls?" Paula says, still ignoring Maggie's shouting and Carol's cries. "Free security. Those assholes get here before our people... the cold bloods will buy us some time." Then she shouts, annoyed, over her shoulder at Carol. "Shut up!"
Carol doesn't. She looks around the room, up and down, at every face and surface. Then keeps going, hitting her head against the wall in her panic.
"Jesus, it's bleeding!" Donnie freaks out when Paula takes the bandage off his arm. "It's not supposed to keep bleeding!"
"Molly, give me the rope." Paula ignores him.
"-I'm not losing it!"
"So you grind it out," 'Chelle rolls her eyes at him. "Jesus, Donnie."
"-Screw you, 'Chelle! We have to get Primo back from those assholes. He can fix it." Donnie's nodding to himself. "We have to, Paula."
"No," she ties the rope around his arm. "I saw them. You didn't. They took the place down, they got the guns, they'll kill us, too-"
"Hpmph!" Maggie strains herself as she tries to get their attention again.
"-I'm not going down like that! Not after making it this far."
Maggie keeps yelling at Paula's turned back.
Paula finally spins to face the chaos. She marches over to Maggie and yanks her gag out. "What?!"
"She's hyperventilating. Someone needs to take her gag off!" Maggie points with both hands still taped together.
They're all looking between themselves until Molly finally listens, pulling out Carol's gag and chuckling to herself with a wheezy breath. "She's a nervous little bird, ain't she?"
Carol gasps at the stale air like it might run out.
'Chelle puts a gun to Carol's head. "Look at you. Bitch, how the hell did you make it this far?"
For once I want Carol to show them how. I want her to show them who we can be.
Molly squats down to face Carol. "Honey, you need to take some yoga breaths and calm your ass down."
Carol's scratching at her pocket, trying to get to something. I'm glad no one's looking at me, or else they'd see how confused I am.
Reaching into her pocket for her, Molly pulls out a string of rosaries, a small cross of silver dangling on its end. Carol snatches it back, her fingers stick through the duct tape, clasping at it desperately, bringing the cross to her lips.
"Oh," Molly sighs. "You're one of those."
Paula looks interested in Carol, her beady little eyes wide. "What are you so afraid of?" she asks her. "Are you actually afraid to die?" The redhead scoffs at her. "All this, and you're scared of getting your ticket punched."
Tears are falling from Carol, but she looks up to Paula anyway. "It doesn't matter what happens to me." She glances in my direction. "Just don't hurt Rhys or Maggie. Don't hurt the baby."
"Yeah, right," 'Chelle snorts, pointing the gun at Maggie now, waving it around like she's worried we can all get free whenever we want.
"If she's got a bun in the oven, she sure doesn't look it," Donnie points out. He's slumped on the floor too now, pale as the walker that was just dragged out.
"I'm only two months, I think," Maggie says begrudgingly.
"You're some kind of stupid, getting knocked up at a time like this," Paula smirks, setting a ginger lock behind her ear.
Maggie smiles, too.
"You think that's funny?" Paula asks her.
Maggie answers. "When was it ever smart to get knocked up? Women used to just die in childbirth. And they always thought the world was gonna end. Living through it, why would you just give up?"
"But are you gonna live through it?" Paula tilts her head, letting her resting smirk take over. "Anyway, that's cute. Babies are the point. Children are our future. Making bite-sized snacks for the dead. The point is to stay standing."
"No, walkers do that. I'm choosing something."
"That's right... you are. You did." Then Paula turns to leave, slamming the door hard.
Molly lights a cigarette, standing right by my side. Her gun's inches from my face, I could easily grab it, but I'm terrified to move.
"He's only fourteen," carol urges her, glaring at the smoke with a riotous look. "The baby, too."
Molly looks between us all, then starts cackling out a rasped laugh. "You don't mind, do you, cutie?" She looks down at me.
I can't answer her since I'm the only one still gagged.
She studies my face. "Looks older than fourteen."
I do my best to look as young as Carol said. Pretty sure all I manage is a few tears.
"And Honey," Molly snickers, "in case you haven't noticed, you've got bigger problems than a little second-hand smoke."
"Molls..." 'Chelle gives her a disapproving look.
Molly looks unbelievingly at the smoke, tutting at us all. "Y'all are worse than a bunch of evangelical second graders."
She stubs it out before putting it back in her jacket pocket. Then she starts coughing fiercely, holding a handkerchief to her mouth, blood staining it when she pulls it away.
"Those things'll kill you," Carol says.
"They already have," Molly laughs, showing Carol the blood. "I'm a dead woman walking. Which puts us in exactly the same boat."
Paula comes back in, putting the radio on her belt.
Donnie's arm looks ready to fall off, purple and red. The blood is clotted and scabby.
"Just hold on," Paula tells him. "Scout crew is coming. They're thirty minutes out, maybe less."
Maggie swivels on the spot to speak with her. "He doesn't have thirty minutes. His nerves are dying. If he doesn't get medical help, he's gonna lose his arm, maybe his life." She glances at the floor then back to Paula, who's staring at her quizically. "I'm not a doctor, but my dad lost his leg, and I know that much."
Paula looks like she might say something clever, but it seems to get stuck in her throat because she turns away.
"Your man, Primo, you think he can help you?" Maggie points to the walkie. "It's time to end this. Talk to Rick."
"Thirty minutes," Paula repeats to Donnie, choosing to ignore Maggie.
Then Donnie stands up, sliding his way up the wall for support. "You know my problem?" he gasps, staggering towards Carol. "She did this to me. She did it, and she's just sitting there right as rain, fully intact."
"Hey," Paula speaks, stepping between them, her hand resting on her gun.
"You're not gonna make the trade. Let's just kill 'em all now."
"No, we wait for the others. We have to be smart. We need insurance." Paula tells him. "You want to kill a kid and a pregnant woman? You know what happens to us when we explain that to the boss?"
"Then shoot her in the arm, too," Donnie growls, barely able to stand.
"No," Paula laughs at the suggestion.
"You really gonna stick up for some gutless bitch over me?" He's bent over now, clutching his arm.
"Shut up!"
"Don't push me, Paula!"
"Shut up!"
Donnie reels up, smacking Paula with the back of his hand. Sending her staggering back.
"Leave her alone!" Maggie screams, sweeping his feet from under him with her tied legs.
Donnie hits the ground hard, twisting around and crawling on top of Maggie, pulling her to her feet. She headbutts him, and I hear his nose crack and shatter. Carol grabs at his leg when he goes to throttle Maggie's throat. Before I know what's happening, I'm up, leaping at him, flailing my tied hands at his face, scratching at his eyes. Donnie lets go of Maggie, flinging me aside. My back slams hard into the tiled wall, sliding me down to a crumpled pile on the floor. Then Donnie starts kicking me before I can even think about rising. Kicking my middle over and over, slamming his boot into my chest until all my breath is gone from screaming. Something cracks inside of me.
Paula slams her gun into his head. Donnie falls to the floor.
"You really are some kind of stupid," she looks at Maggie, then at me, rubbing the cut Donnie left on her cheek. "'Chelle, take her and the kid out. See if they know anything."
'Chelle pulls Maggie up, then me.
My stomach feels like it's on fire. I scream in pain through the gag when I'm lifted. I try to breathe, but I'm met with a sharp and twisting pain in my chest, a tight stitch of agony when I try to catch my breath.
Carol calls out something to us as we're taken from the room, but I don't hear it before the door slams shut.
Next Time: Rhys and Maggie are interrogated. Paula asks Rhys about his past.