More Than a Feeling blasted from the stereo upstairs. It was harder to hear from the living room as I considered leaving my bag behind. Would I even need it? Getting used to always having a home to return to was difficult to understand.

Daryl, Rick and I were heading out. I knew we shouldn't be long, we were just going to check around the nearby farms to see if we could find any planting material for the land we cleared out near the new walls. Maggie wanted to start as soon as possible.

Glenn had taken me out a few times to go through garages, finding tools and parts. We marked them all down, writing what we had to leave behind and hiding them so we always knew they were there. We found some good tools, expensive.

I straightened up at a knock on the door, going to answer it. Isaac was outside, who smiled when he saw me. "Hey, I wanted to see you before you went."

"I was going to say goodbye," I told him.

"Not as good as I'm going to," he smirked.

A heat rose in my neck at the promise, and I turned back inside to shout up the stairs, "I'll be outside!"

"Don't go far!" Rick called down. "We're leaving soon!"

I stepped outside with Isaac and as soon as the door was closed, his hands were on my hips. He lowered his lips to mine, pulling me off to the side of the doorway. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he leaned back against the wall.

"Be careful," he said between kisses.

I leaned into him. "It'll be fine."

Isaac stopped, pulling away from me and allowing for my dramatics as my head fell forward against his chest. "What did we talk about? You're not allowed to say that anymore after the 'it's just a dry run' incident. Or the 'I'm just going climbing' incidents."

I winced.

More than my fair share of time had been reliving that incident over and over again, whether it had to happen the way it did. I woke up to nightmares over it and cried in my bed. Isaac didn't know most of that. It still surprised me how I was capable of that kind of destruction.

"I don't think the herd broke free because I said that," I stopped, and tipped my head up. "Though, it is one hell of a coincidence."

"Exactly. So, be careful."

I smiled. "I will."

"Okay," he leaned back down for another long kiss. "Thank you."

Part of me wanted to stay with him, but he was going to be busy here teaching himself architecture. He didn't need me all over him. Isaac and I had spent a lot of time together after what happened in Hillcrest because he refused to leave me alone to my thoughts.

The door opened behind me, and I jumped away from Isaac.

Rick eyed the two of us, before just nodding his head for me to follow. "We gotta go now."

"Yeah, okay," I immediately trailed his path, before turning back to Isaac and giving a quick wave. "Bye."

"That's why I came early!" He called after me.

Rick decided not to try and talk to me about it, which I was grateful for. Daryl was already waiting by the car when we got to the gate, and I avoided their eyes as I climbed inside, throwing my axe down in the back footwell. I didn't have my bag, I realised, too distracted by Isaac before we left to think about it.

Rick started the car, driving us to the front gate so we could leave for the run. Eugene was the one to open the gate, after he did so, he turned back around to look at the car like he wanted to say something. "Close the window, close it, close it—"

"I mapped out some of the agricultural supply places in the area."

"Cachu bant," I whispered, leaning my head against the back of Daryl's seat.

"Even if they've been cleaned out, my bet is that the sorghum would be untouched," Eugene continued, not hearing me. "Now, that there is a criminally underrated grain that could change the game with our food situation from scary to hunky-dunky." God, why did he talk like that? It just made him more unbearable to be around. "I'm talking standability, drought tolerance, grain-to-stover ratio that is the envy of all corns. Think about it."

They were silent in the front seats, but Daryl took the map, "Thanks."

"All right, okay."

Eugene took a step back as Rick drove forward slowly through the gate, rolling past the spike traps we set up with the broken cars outside of the community. When we were outside, he sped off down the road, completely ignoring me as I reminded him to drive 55 miles an hour.

"All you had to do was close the window," I said after a while.

"He did map out all the farms for us," Rick said.

"I could have done that," I argued.

"You can't read a map."

"Fucked over again."

Daryl reached his arm over the headrest, ruffling my hair with the tips of his fingers. "I know that was swearin' too."

I realised he meant the Welsh I had spoken when Eugene came to the car and not the swearing I had done just seconds before. I frowned, "How?"

"The guys used to wind your mom up if she swore because she was always so nice n' proper n' all. She started doin' it in Welsh instead so they didn't know," Daryl said.

"She wasn't proper," I said.

"Compared to the rest of us, ya sound proper."

That was true, I supposed. But compared to the posh British accents I sounded like I'd grown up on the roughest part of the island. All of my dad's friends used to make fun of me, so I could picture them making fun of my mother.

"You say that like I don't swear in English all the time."

"Yeah, but if you're gonna be swearing at someone, ya gotta own it," he said.

"It's Eugene," I stressed. "He'll get his feelings hurt."

Rick ignored our back and forth as he drove, and when he said it might be a little while before we got to any of the farms, I laid down on the seat in the back, one of my legs up and my arms resting behind my head.

"Today's the day," Rick announced. "We're gonna find food, maybe some people. The law of averages has gotta catch up."

"I don't know," Daryl shrugged. "We ain't seen nobody for weeks. Maybe we ain't gonna find nobody. Maybe that's a good thing."

Ever since the herd, what happened to Daryl that day, he hadn't been the same. All that was mentioned were the people he blew up, but Daryl never spoke a lot about the person who stole his bike and crossbow, which had to have been somebody else, because they killed all of the Negan followers with the RPG. Whatever happened that day made him change his mind about wanting to find people, because he was the one that believed in Alexandria when we got there.

"Don't, don't. Please don't," Daryl begged.

I glanced up as Rick put a CD in the player. A beat started from the radio, which Rick snapped his fingers in time to. 'Give me the downbeat, maestro.' The music started, really loud in the car, and I laid back down on the seat.

"Draws 'em away from home!" Rick yelled.

I closed my eyes and tried to take a nap over the music.

I almost fell off the seat when the car lurched, and I put my arm out to stop me from flying. When I sat up, I glanced around, seeing that Rick had missed a red building to the right of us, and he put us in reverse and backed up to the crossroads.

There was a large garage door marking the Windy Farm on the side of the red building with two large porches that extended out to either side. In the biggest letters I'd ever seen on the garage door, underneath the name of the farm it said SORGHUM.

As Rick wandered down the side of the building, Daryl called him back to the garage door. "Hey, hold up. It's best to be safe. You cover it?"

"Yeah," Rick agreed. I grabbed my gun out from its holster as Daryl opened the garage door. There was nothing on either side and Rick confirmed. He came back around the giant van that was inside. "Yeah, we're good. One more time?"

"It ain't locked," Daryl said, unhooking the latch to open the back of the van. He rolled it open and revealed crates and boxes and tins and bags with what looked like food and planting material, stuff that we needed back at Alexandria.

Rick was smiling, like nothing that happened today would be able to stop him. "Well, how about that? The law of averages."

"Yep," Daryl agreed.

"Let's get this thing going, grab our gear, come back for the car later," Rick explained. "Take another way back. See what we can see."

Daryl glanced at me, "Think it'll start?"

I shrugged. "Should do."

Rick chuckled as he looked at the bags and boxes thrown into the back of the truck. "Sorghum."

The keys were in the van when he climbed in, so it was easy enough to just take it and set off. I was a little apprehensive about leaving the car behind, but Rick reminded me that it would just be easier to pick it up on the way back. If we were all in the same vehicle, no one could get lost or split off from one another and he'd rather take the vehicle where we knew the food was.

We had been driving for so long that it was getting uncomfortable to be squatted between the seats, that eventually I shifted on my legs so one knee was on the ground. Squatting down between the two seats was less than comfortable.

"My legs hurt."

Daryl smirked at me. "You're sitting bitch."

"Excuse me?" My eyes widened at what he said. I looked between him and Rick who were both just grinning at each other. "Rick!"

"What?" Rick chuckled.

"It's a sayin'."

"Doesn't sound like a very nice one," I huffed.

"Never said that," Daryl argued.

"Gas station," Rick announced, interrupting our argument before it could start, "we can look here."

He pulled the van into the petrol station, turning it around so the front was still facing the road before we climbed out. He said something about how it would be easier like this for a quick getaway, just leaving them to climb in and drive off if something happened.

As Daryl tried the door to the petrol station, I opened the back of the truck and sat back in the bed, revelling in the shade and the space to finally stretch my legs. Maybe it's easier to tie down the supplies and ride in the back . . . wait, was this ventilated?

"Yo, give me a hand with this," Daryl called to Rick, now standing by what looked like a vending machine that laid down on the glass. He cleared his throat before saying, "Let's flip it over."

They both pushed against the surface, barely lifting it off the ground before they had to stop and take a step back. The vending machine clattered to the ground. "I don't think we got it," Rick breathed out.

I snorted out a laugh.

Rick looked up. "That ain't helping."

"I'm warm," I called back. "I could faint!"

"Ya gotta get used to this climate eventually," Daryl cut in, rounding the vending machine.

"Maybe there's just something really wrong with me," I shrugged.

"Oh, I don't doubt that," he shot back.

"Oi!" I yelled. "Me and you are gonna have words now!"

"I got an idea," he turned around and walked over to me. "Give me some chains."

I groaned, but stood up and turned to grab the chains he wanted from the wall. Then I leant down to pass him, before taking my seat further back on some of the boxes. They took some time, looping the chains around the vending machine, before attaching them to the back of the van.

Rick went around to the front to pull it over, and when the chains tightened, Daryl waved his hand so Rick could see when he needed to stop in the wing mirrors. The vending machine clattered to the ground, and the truck stopped. Daryl leaned down to look at the window which was now facing the petrol station.

Rick came around to see what was inside, "It's soda and candy. Why the trouble?"

"It wasn't any trouble."

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, a man with a grey beanie and a cloth over his face ran up behind Rick and slammed him onto the surface vending machine before he stumbled back and away from them. Rick and Daryl both pulled out their guns and aimed them at him.

I ducked back further into the back of the truck, hiding behind a box and pulling out my gun. Maybe whoever it was that just shoved Rick wouldn't have seen me, and I'd have the element of surprise over them.

"Hi."

"Back up! Now!"

"Keep 'em up!" Daryl and Rick yelled, ignoring his greeting.

"Whoa, easy, guys," the man said smoothly. "I was just running from the dead."

Rick started stepping back to look around the building where the man came from, as Daryl asked. "How many?"

"10, maybe more. I'm not risking it. Once it gets to double digits, I start running."

"Where?"

"About a half a mile back," he answered. "They're headed this way. You probably have about 11 minutes."

"Okay, thanks for letting us know," Rick lowered his gun.

"Yeah. There's more of them than us, right? Gotta stick together," I peeked around a little to see him looking at Daryl, tilting to the side as he seemingly wanted them to agree. "Right?" When Daryl lowered his gun, the man lowered his hands. "You have a camp?"

I ducked my head back behind the wall.

"No," Daryl said simply.

"Do you?" Rick asked.

"No," he said. "Sorry for running into you, I'm gonna go now. If this is the next world, I hope it's good to you guys."

"I'm Rick," he called out as the man seemingly walked away. "This is Daryl. What's your name?"

"Paul Rovia," the guy said. "But my friends used to call me Jesus, your pick."

Jesus? I rolled my eyes, loosening up my stance but never leaving my hiding spot. I didn't intend to move until he was gone. If he came back we'd need the element of surprise of having another person to attack him.

"You said you didn't have a camp," Rick repeated. "You on your own?"

"Yeah. But, still," Jesus started, "best not to try anything."

"Best not to make threats you can't keep, either," Daryl said with a level head.

"Exactly."

I could hear the footsteps as he began to run again, but Rick stepped forward to ask, "How many walkers—?"

"No, not this guy," Daryl tried to stop him.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Rick tried again.

His voice was further away as he yelled back, "Sorry, gotta run. You two should, too. Think you've got about seven minutes."

I straightened up from where I was standing and looked down at the two of them, they had more information about the man than I did. None of them returned my glance though, as Daryl turned to Rick to argue about him asking the questions.

"What the hell was that?" Daryl asked.

"He was clean," Rick said. "His beard, it was trimmed. There's more going on there."

"He didn't have a gun, either."

"We could track him, watch him for a while, get to know more. See if he's really alone," Rick planned out. "Maybe bring him back."

"Nah, guy calls himself Jesus."

As they finished up, gunshots rang out through the air, sounding a little weird but just as threatening. It sounded like machine guns, the shots coming in quick succession of one another. I flinched at the sound and reached for my gun.

"Stay in there!" Rick snapped to me. "Hide!"

I nodded and jumped back over some of the crates, ducking down below them and pulling my gun back out from the holster. I could hear the steps as Rick and Daryl walked away, taking the path that Jesus had come from around the building back to where it sounded like bullets, still firing off.

Footsteps returned to the truck but before I could peek over the boxes to see if Rick and Daryl were okay, the door was slammed down and the latch closed, locking me in complete darkness. I could see the faint, horizontal line of light coming through the back.

"Guys?!" I yelled. "Are we leaving now?! Hello?!"

I almost fell when I stood up and the van started up, swerving around onto the road, I assumed. There was no response, all I could think was that the people started shooting at Rick and Daryl and now they were trying to get away from the fight, so I stayed quiet for a while.

But when it seemed like they should have stopped to let me out, they kept driving, still speeding I could tell because it was difficult to move around with the way it moved. I could still hear the vending machine being dragged behind us until it did eventually stop, the chain either breaking or falling off.

"You assholes let me out, it smells like sorghum in here!" The van didn't slow down, but as I thought about it, I giggled to myself. "Ah, Sorghum, I'm so funny . . . but seriously, guys! It stinks, stop the van!"

Then I realised something else, "Did one of you leave the other behind? Because now that I think about it, I only heard one set of footsteps come back! I'm not sure if that's right, but if it is, I'm a little worried, you know?!"

The van rolled to a stop, and I crawled my way over the things in the back to get to the door, knocking on the wall to get their attention. If we were in danger, fine, we had to go—but it was a little concerning not to know what was happening.

There was a clunk as the latch was unlocked and the door was pushed open, but the man there wasn't Rick or Daryl. It was him. Paul— Jesus. Whatever the hell his name was. His eyes widened when he saw me, and he looked concerned.

"Oh my God." He raised a hand to help me down from the truck. "Are you okay?"

I grabbed my gun instead, "Where the hell are Rick and Daryl!"

The concerned look vanished from his face as his mouth fell open. He raised his hands, "I may have misread this situation—"

He must've noticed the subtle change in my grip on the gun because he was already hidden behind the wall of the truck when I shot at him. I clenched my teeth, and I stepped down from the boxes to climb out after him. He sped back around, grabbing my legs and pulling them out from underneath me when I slammed back down into the truck bed.

My gun was gone, and when I managed to sit myself up, he grabbed my arm and leg, and pulled me from inside the truck, swinging around and throwing me on the ground where I rolled away from him, hitting the ground with a grunt.

"I don't want to hurt you, kid."

Part of me wanted to argue, but the fall in the truck bed and onto the ground didn't actually hurt, as if he somehow managed to avoid it. But that didn't negate the fact that he'd A, kidnapped me, and B, stole the truck that we needed.

Instead, I reached for my knife and swung for his ankles, "Can't say the same."

Jesus jumped back, before swinging out his foot and kicking the knife from my hand. I groaned at the impact, looking to where it had flown away, before I jumped to my feet, holding my hand out in front of me. My breathing was heavy, and I wasn't sure if I would be able to win this fight. Jesus was quicker than I expected him to be, and he seemed to know what my every action was before I could even move.

He paused awkwardly, raising a hand to me. "Listen, I can explain. . ."

I reached for my axe, swinging it around at him but he dodged it easily. He grabbed the longer part of the axe in two hands and twisted me around so it came down over my head. The shaft of the axe was pressed against my throat. I released the handle and tried to see if the man had any weapons on him that I could use, but he only pulled the axe closer to my neck which almost stopped my breathing.

"Easy, kid," he eased his pressure on the axe. "I said I didn't want to hurt you."

"You won't answer any of my fucking questions!" I squeezed my eyes shut and tried pulling the axe further away from my throat, my breathing heavy. I hoped that I would be able to get underneath, but the man was much stronger than I was.

"You shot at me," he argued, still holding the axe against my throat.

"You kidnapped me!"

There was a pause before he said, "You win."

He brought the axe over my head, pushing me forward. I stumbled, and when I turned around, he was looking down at my axe in his hand as if he was testing the weight. Well, that was it, all of my weapons were gone—he could kill me before I got to my knife

"Nice axe."

I was panting, trying to catch my breath as he twirled my axe in his hands. Then his hand hung at his side as he stared at me as if waiting for me to say something. But what was there to say? I couldn't yell or threaten him, not when he could so easily take control of a fight.

"What's your name?" He asked after a moment of silence.

"Ace."

He scoffed, "Sure."

"Are you mocking me?" I snapped. "Jesus?"

"Fair point," he nodded. "Does this mean we're friends?"

"I don't make friends with people who kidnap me."

"When I opened the door, I thought they kidnapped you," Jesus said, after a while. "I didn't know you were in there when I swiped the keys."

"You kidnapped me," I snapped.

"I know that now," he said. "Look, I need this stuff."

"You're not taking the van," I snapped, straightening up. "We need this stuff."

"For your group?" Jesus asked.

I scoffed. "They told you we don't have one. But I suppose living alone gives you a lot of time to keep yourself so well-groomed?"

"Always have to look your best." He gave a grin. "So we're both just going to pretend like we don't know the other person is lying?"

As Jesus passed me to get to the back of the truck, I stepped away. Keeping the distance was the best option for now because clearly, he was not someone I could beat in a fight—not one-on-one. But if he could overpower me so easily then how was I ever going to stop him from taking the truck before Rick and Daryl could find us?

He grabbed a tool from the back that I didn't even know existed there, before hopping up and rolling out a spare tyre. As he moved around to the side of the van, I noticed my knife on the ground by the back of the van, and I quickly grabbed it from the ground.

Jesus raised a brow, "You want to try this again?"

"I want a way to stop you if you want the truck."

"That'll work," he chuckled. "Sure, keep it."

He took the tool to the tyres, trying to decide whether or not he wanted to change them. They were flat, probably because everything was left in the truck for God knows how long, and the air had just slowly been leaking out.

"You want to take over?" He asked, glancing at me.

"Yes . . . but if I do that then you can just get away faster," I explained. "So, no."

"Alright then," he went back to what he was doing, ignoring me as I watched him. "What exactly do you want me to hang around for?"

"Rick and Daryl."

"You think they're gonna catch up on foot?" He asked.

"Yes."

"And when they get here, what do you think they're going to be able to do?" He asked.

"They have guns."

"I have a gun," he said, waving mine around.

"You aren't going to kill them," I decided, sitting myself back on the back of the van. "Or me."

Jesus stood, not finished changing the wheel, but humouring me. "I'm not?"

"You've had my gun for ages, why wait?" I asked.

"Fair point."

"And I won't let you take the van, because we found it first," I stated. "So, what's your plan?"

Jesus raised a brow, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you won't kill me and I won't let you take the van," I explained. He was silent for a moment, stepping closer and closer until he was standing right in front of me. When he didn't answer my question. "So, what are you going to do? Kidnap me again?"

Jesus only smiled, but after a second of silence, he shot out a hand into my shoulder so hard that it knocked me back into the van. I couldn't stand up in time to stop him from closing the metal door on me, locking the latch.

I bit the inside of my cheek. "I . . . I didn't see that one coming."

"I don't want to do this," he yelled through the door. "Not maliciously anyway, but I think we should talk!"

"Stop fucking kidnapping me then, asshole!" I yelled, taking a breath before asking, "Talk about what?!"

"We should wait for your friends!" He said. "If they don't come, then you can come with me! We can talk just the two of us!"

God, he was going to kidnap me. I pressed my head against the wall of the truck and squeezed my eyes closed, trying to catch my breath as I began to hyperventilate. What if he was a part of the group of those people I killed? Or a worse one?

I kicked the door. "FUCK!"

"I don't mean to frighten you like this!" He said softer, but just loud enough to hear. "I really just need to talk to you guys."

"Get the fuck away from me!"

He didn't try to open the door again, and I was worried that he was going to take off before Rick and Daryl could catch up to us. It was maybe ten or fifteen minutes before I heard anything from outside the van, a bang as if someone was thrown against the wall that made me jump.

Two gunshots rang out from just outside of the van. I pressed my ear against the metal container, trying to hear anything, but all the voices were muffled. It had to be them, Rick and Daryl had caught up with us before Jesus could get on the move again.

Had they killed him?

Did we have to?

I banged my hand against the door, "Rick? Daryl?!"

The only sentence I could make out was when someone neared the back of the van. "Is she in here?"

Metal crunched together as the latch was opened, and I moved back as the door was pushed open. Rick was there holding his gun in one hand towards Jesus, and the other reached up to help me down from where I stood.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "All good."

Jesus was on the floor, alive, and Daryl was standing over him pointing a gun at him. "See, she's okay. I didn't do anything to her. You're gonna shoot me over a truck?"

"There's a lot of food on that truck," Rick said. "The keys, now."

"I think you know I'm not a bad guy," he turned his eyes to me.

"Yeah? What do you know about us?" Rick tilted his head.

Jesus turned to look at me, "I could have killed you, you said so yourself."

"But you didn't," I said, wiping the corner of my eye with my hand. "Try not to make that your mistake."

"Give me the keys," Rick cut in, "This is the last time I'm asking."

When he handed them over, Daryl went to fetch a rope from the back of the truck to restrain Jesus and give us a chance to get away. Rick and Daryl weren't planning on getting into another fight with him either, because they wasted no time securing him.

Daryl checked his bag when they weren't worried about him escaping, and pulled out a broken can of orange pop, "Damnit."

Rick wrapped the rope around his hands and legs. "You're gonna leave me here like this? You're really gonna do that?"

"Eh, the knots aren't that tight," Rick said, yanking the rope just a little tighter, "You should be able to get free . . . after we're long gone."

"Maybe we should talk now," Jesus tried.

"Nah. Here," Daryl shook a broken can of orange pop in his bag, throwing it on the ground next to Jesus. "In case you get thirsty."

I turned around and climbed into the van through the driver's seat, sitting back in the middle of them as Rick and Daryl followed suit. Rick spun the keys around on his fingers as he looked over at me and Daryl, who pulled one more whole can of orange pop out of his bag and placed it in the cup holder.

As Rick started the car, Daryl shoved his bag down in the footwell and put the middle finger out facing the wing mirror, "So long, you prick!"

He kicked his legs back and relaxed into the seat.

I couldn't believe how scared I was when I was locked in the back of that truck. Jesus didn't seem like a bad person, but the fact that he could so easily win a fight, and decide that I was going with him, didn't sit right with me. The feeling still sat with me even as we drove away from where we left him tied up on the ground.

Rick and Daryl didn't ask about anything he said to me, they didn't care. They asked if he'd hurt me, if I was okay, and when I answered their questions they left the topic alone and focused on the run like we had been doing the whole time.

"Still worked out. Today still is the day," Rick stressed as he raised his hand, holding the piece of chocolate between his fingers. Daryl held out a hand for me to take some of the chocolate he offered, which I happily accepted. It had been so long since I'd eaten chocolate.

"Hope so," I agreed.

"It is," Rick said, taking another piece from Daryl, before his eyes turned ahead, "Hey, look at that."

Daryl straightened up, "Yeah, a barn."

Rick pulled into the open fence of the farm and began driving towards the building across the field. I stretched my arms up, getting the kink out of my back when there was banging on the roof above us, and I glanced up with a weird look.

"You hear that?" Daryl asked and leaned forward to turn down the radio. "I think that son-of-a-bitch is on the roof."

I blinked a few times, "How the fuck did he do that?"

"Hold on," Rick said.

He slammed his foot on the brakes, and the van lurched them forward. Jesus went flying down in front of the windscreen and landed on the ground in front of us. I sat up a little just to see him stand up quickly and face the three of us in the van.

Then he spun around and sprinted off.

Rick chased after him with the van, speeding after Jesus as he dipped sideways to get away from us. Daryl leaned to the side and opened the door, jumping out of the van before Rick could pick up too much speed.

"Daryl!" Rick yelled. "Daryl!"

I moved over and took his seat, watching as we caught up with Jesus. Rick turned in front of him to try and cut him off for Daryl to catch when Jesus dipped backwards and took a path behind the truck, evading the movement.

He slammed the van in reverse, backing up to remove the now barrier that was blocking the two men from fighting before putting it in park. I noticed some walkers tied to some cars off to the side and pointed them out to Rick. We climbed out of the truck as the ropes on the walkers snapped.

Daryl chased Jesus. "We came to a conclusion, asshole! I got him!"

Rick nodded and waved a hand to signal we should take out the walkers. He was ahead of me, stabbing his knife into the first one. I went to the right of the cars, using my axe to take out the walker that could flank him.

When we turned back to the truck, Daryl and Jesus were fighting when Jesus had a gun in his hand and shot a walker that was coming up behind them. Daryl grabbed the gun and punched him when the car started rolling back. As Daryl dragged him out and rolled away from the van, the open door hit Jesus over the head and the van rolled backwards into the lake.

I just stared at it, my heart sinking deeper than the van. God . . . there was so much food in the back of that, so much we could have planted, saved Alexandria with. Now it was gone, thanks to the prick lying unconscious on the ground.

"You all right?" Rick asked Daryl, standing beside him.

"Yeah," he said. "Law of averages. That's bullshit, man. Let's go check their cars, get the hell out of here."

"What about the guy?" Rick asked.

Daryl shrugged, "What about him?"

"Well, he helped you."

"Maybe."

"He ever pull a weapon on you?" Rick questioned as if to prove his point.

"Fine," Daryl conceded. "Let's put him up a tree."

We took a new car home, one that worked on the farm. After lugging Jesus into the back seat, and getting the car started, I sat beside Rick who decided it was time to cut our losses and drive home. The sun was already setting.

Rick jerked the wheel to the left, and I glanced back to see Jesus fall onto Daryl's shoulder. Daryl shoved the man away with his elbow, and when I glanced at Rick he was avoiding eye contact and looking out the window to his side. I gave him a look that said, you're doing that on purpose which he ignored.

"He took a pretty hard hit," Rick said. "Denise needs to look him over."

"Yeah," Daryl mumbled.

"You wouldn't have gone through with it, you wouldn't have left him."

"I would've, right up in a tree," he argued. "I would've."

"No. I know," Rick denied. "Almost as soon as we got to Alexandria, you got it. You saw— you, and Michonne, Glenn, you all tried to tell me. So shut up." He jerked the wheel to the side again, causing Jesus to fall against Daryl, who retaliated by pushing him harder and he fell against the door. "'Cause I'm finally listening."

The sun set before we got back, and I almost fell asleep in the darkness of the car. The only light inside came from the dash lights and radio, which now played no music anymore. I sighed, leaning my head back against the rest as we rolled up towards the gate.

"You know, I was thinking . . ." Daryl began. "Back before we went out to the quarry. The morning after Reg and Pete, you said we shouldn't be looking for people no more. You were right."

"No," Rick denied. "I was wrong. You were right."

Rick drove us into the community and straight up to the street where Denise lived and pulled up against the curb. I stood up and stretched out as Rick and Daryl moved to pull Jesus from the car, Rick holding his feet while Daryl had hands under his arms.

"Knock the door," Daryl grunted.

I did as told, slamming my fist down a few times, but nothing happened. The lights inside were off, and

"They're not answering, they're probably asleep,"

"Knock again," he barked. I did, and eventually, the porch light turned on, and Denise and Tara came down to answer the door. "Sorry to wake you up."

"Who is this?" Denise asked.

"Come on, man, he's heavy," Daryl complained. "Oh, that thing, uh, didn't work out. It's this asshole's fault. Sorry."

I assumed he meant the cand of pop he'd been carting around. Denise nodded for them to come in, "Lay him on the bed."

"All right, take a look at him," Daryl said, "He ain't staying, though."

"Hey, Tara," I greeted as I followed them in.

"Hey, how was the run?" She asked sarcastically, nodding to the unconscious man.

"You know, got kidnapped," I shrugged.

"You gotta stop telling it like that," Rick looked back over his shoulder.

Tara crossed her arms, "Well, did she?"

"Yeah."

"By this guy?"

"Yeah."

"But I get told off," I mumbled.

Once Denise had checked him over, Rick and Daryl had to then carry Jesus down to the cell that me and Rick had been locked in, and they made me join so I could open the door for them. As I did, they laid him down on the bed.

Daryl went to grab some water as Rick wrote a note that said: 'You were hurt. We brought you here. You're safe. Talk soon. Rick.'

"We'll see," Daryl said.

"It is pretty stupid of us to go out there, isn't it?" Rick asked.

Daryl agreed. "Yep."

"Do it again tomorrow?"

"Yep."

I loved this chapter so much, there is also a TikTok already posted for it with the username the same as this one. Hope you all enjoyed and lmk what you thought :)