Reviews:

SlumberingVoid — Oh yeah, I totally get how the Commonwealth had it so good... I just found it to be a little bit of a boring location to watch in a zombie show. To be fair, I did enjoy Mercer a lot, but I found most of the other characters a little bit two-dimensional, especially Pamela. But hey, they played Motörhead, and I got more Rosita, so I can't complain too much XD

Bucket Hat — Alas, I would love for an infinite number of family fun days in a row, but the show must go on!

Tybalt and Cordelia, two hordes bigger than anything we can handle, have merged. Dianne got word from Carol that something went wrong at the camp. Saviors tried to take the guns, a fight broke out, and the two hordes are heading for the bridge.

Michonne barks at me to get Carl.

And I run.

Faster than I've ever run through these streets.

I get to the lake where he's meant to be teaching his shooting lesson, but all I find is a bunch of kids clearing away boxes of ammunition and empty magazines.

I find Teddy, the kid on guard from the other day. He's sorting an armful of suppressors neatly into a wicker basket. He jumps when I grab him by the shoulders.

"Mr Rhee— I mean, crap... Rhys, right? What's wrong? Are you looking for—"

"Carl!" I bark in his face. "Where is Carl?"

"He caught that broadcast about the camp," Teddy says, starting to panic the more I shake him. "The lesson was meant to go on for another half hour and I only just finished my shift on the—"

He tries saying more, but I'm already running for the gate. Someone opens it. Michonne must have already given word to ready our horses because Downy-Beardy is waiting impatiently in his usual way, stomping his feet over the gravel trail. My bow and rifle are already secured to his brown leather saddle. Michonne is mounted on her own horse, Maggie and Dianne on theirs. Sasha and Mikey are here, too, already saddled up and waiting. People yell that we should wait for backup, but I'm already up in the saddle and barking at Downy-Beardy to go, kicking him into a gallop down the path and onto the road leading towards Hilltop, the other five following.

Downy-Beardy is heaving and snorting by the time we reach the bridge camp. I leap off when I spot Carl's piebald. We leave our horses with it, looping their reins around a thin bay before bounding towards the tree line that hides the camp. My rifle and quiver bounce against my back as I jump roots and duck branches. But when we reach it, the camp has already been swarmed, walkers dragging tents caught around their ankles as they head for the bridge. We stick to the outer perimeter of the camp until we find Carl outside our tent. He's pulling his machete from a walker's head, blood splattering over his face. I recognise the walker — Kathy, one of the fishermen from Oceanside. Bodies litter the camp as walkers trample them to follow wherever the front of this horde is, dead allies rising to join them. The more I look at Carl, the more I notice how drenched in blood and sweat he is.

"I can't find Dad," he hisses at us, looking between Michonne and me. "The camp's gone."

Michonne pulls the walkie off her hip. "Rick," she says, her voice as scared as I've ever heard it. "Rick, where are you?"

We wait for a response. Dianne shoots a walker down a slope that notices our group.

The radio finally speaks...

But it's not Rick.

We find what's left of the Kingdom's caravan with Carol and Jerry, hidden in the woods not too far away. Oceanside is with them. Carol heard us on the radio and told us to come to them. Rosita, Tara, Beatrice, Eugene, and Jesus are trying to calm people down. Everyone is in a panic, heads on swivels as they try to figure out what's going on with all the broken information scattered around. I follow Carl through the crowd until we find Daryl. He's dirty and bruised and doesn't answer when we ask why.

"What's going on?" Michonne asks him, grabbing his arm. "Where's Rick?"

Daryl's eyes are wide and misty.

"He's tryin' to bring down the bridge."

It doesn't take long between Maggie, Michonne, Carl, Sasha, and Daryl to rally everyone in the clearing together. A scattered mix of Oceanside, Kingdom, and Alexandrians stand ready to help. A few of us run ahead of the others as we follow the madly rushing river upstream to the bridge. I can see Carl's exhausted, but he keeps pushing and when we see his Dad everyone stops.

Rick's bloody and limping, slowly making his way across the bridge, an unfathomable number of walkers crossing behind him.

The noise of the dead booms over anything else.

Over the water's lapping current or the groaning of the bridge.

There is nothing louder than the dead.

Except... there's no groan from the bridge to be drowned out.

"It's gonna hold," Carl breathes.

Daryl fires a bolt at a walker that gets too close to Rick, dropping another one after it.

Sasha starts screaming orders into the crowd.

"ANYONE WITH A GUN, FALL IN LINE AND HOLD FOR MY SIGNAL TO OPEN FIRE!"

"We need to wait for him to clear the bridge!" Mikey yells.

I watch through my rifle scope. "Why isn't he moving?"

Sasha tells everyone in line to hold their fire as she starts to help Daryl pick walkers off with her rifle.

I watch as Rick stays where he is, not retreating from the horde.

"What is he doing?!" Maggie yells.

"He's hurt!" Michonne cries.

"That herd'll run right through Hilltop if he doesn't take down the bridge!" Daryl says.

"No!"

Michonne and Carl start running for the road. Trying to reach the bridge.

"WE TURN THEM AROUND, FIGHT THEM BACK!" Maggie orders. "FIRE YOUR GUNS!"

Everyone follows them, Sasha and Daryl still shooting until they run dry.

But I see Rick from the bank. He raises his revolver high, aiming toward the bridge. I follow his aim, until...

"No..."

I shove my rifle into Mikey's arms, running after the others. Running after Michonne and Carl. Trying to stop them from getting any closer.

"RICK!"

"DAD!"

The explosion roars over the walkers. I see Carl and Michonne get blasted back before I'm thrown off my feet, tumbling down the bank as I shield my face from burning debris raining from the sky. The ground shakes as the bridge is torn into timber and shattered concrete by the dynamite. Walkers follow the fire, falling into the water and getting swept out with the current.

I see Maggie and Carol holding Michonne as she shrieks and tries to reach the nothingness left there. What used to be a bridge, and a husband, and a father — but now stands as nothingness enwrapped in seething flames. Carl makes it further than Michonne before I reach him. He's almost on the road, ready to fight every walker before they can reach their death in the river below. I clasp my arms around his middle and bend into him as he doubles over and screams and wails until his voice is hoarse and gravelly. My ears are ringing, and there's dirt in my eyes, but we fall down together, and I don't let go.

"I'm sorry..."

"NO!"

"He's gone."

"DAD!"

"Carl..."

"He's... NO! There's still a chance!"

"Carl, he's gone... the bridge is gone. It's gone."

"He's... he's..."

"I'm so sorry."

Carl fights and claws and punches against me until I can't hold him and he slips free. He stumbles down the slope towards the river where walkers continue to walk and tumble from the flaming remains of the bridge. By the time I get down to him, Carl is digging at the rubble with bloody hands. Flipping over bodies and checking faces.

"Carl..."

He turns to me with mud and blood smeared across his face, his hands, his clothes.

"Please help me..."

I sink to my knees in the mud beside him. It's thick and cold. Others help, too. Everyone tries to find Rick Grimes under the rubble and bodies that flow all the way down the river. By the time my hands are sore and red and littered with cuts, we're alone, so far downriver that we've left the others behind.

"Carl, he was standing right there when the dynamite went off," I pant, exhausted.

He's more tired than me, barely upright as he wades up to his chest in the water checking the hundreds of bodies that try to rust past us, carried by the current.

Carl shakes his head, the rest of him shaking from the icy water. "I saw him get thrown. He got thrown off the bridge."

Before long, the river got too violent from the storms to search. Sasha had to help me drag Carl and Michonne back to Alexandria.

It's only been a few days since then.

The rain is hammering against the windows of the house. I answered a knock on the door earlier, a dripping Mikey telling me there has still been no sign of Daryl since the bridge.

Mikey left, and Carl and I are staying dry in the sitting room now.

"The last time I spoke to him, he asked me to stay," Carl whispers.

We're both on the couch, a gap between us where I put a bowl of popcorn. I can see how hard he's trying not to cry. He's been avoiding it for days now. Avoiding feeling those feelings that are pushing against the inside of his skull like a migraine.

"I know," I say.

We've had this conversation a million times now. We've had all the conversations that you can have after something like this a million times. But what else is there to talk about?

"Are you going to stay?" Carl asks me, turning to look.

That's something we actually haven't talked about.

"Only if you want me to," I say. "Marco is heading back tomorrow, so I could have him let Maggie know."

I pause, glancing down at his hands that are still decorated by cuts and scrapes.

"If you and Michonne want to grieve alone," I say gently. "I get it."

"I want you to stay," Carl tells me.

"Then I will."

"What did Mikey want?"

I dip my head, rubbing the back of my neck with a cold palm. "Daryl still hasn't come home."

Carl looks up to the mantle where Michonne's sword normally sits. It's not been there in a few days.

"She should be back soon," Carl tells me.

"Want to wait up for her?"

Carl shakes his head. "Can we just go to bed?"

I kiss him. Then I take his hands and lead him up the stairs. The house is empty. Judith is staying with Minnie and Barabera for the time being.

We lie in his bed for hours. We don't talk even though we know the other is still awake. I stay still when I hear him get up.

I already know where he's going.

"Carl! Wanna explain why nobody's made the trip down to see me these last few days? I mean, I get it, but the big bad wolf can't huff and puff down here with all this damn dust... sets off my allergies. Is it because of the Widow almost busting my head open? Did the rest of you manage to guilt her into keeping—"

Carl's voice is calm. "You know why I'm here. I know you've heard. You always hear."

"And that is?"

"Negan..."

Negan's tone suddenly shifts to something so much softer than his usual grit. "I'm sorry, kid."

"Sure."

"Listen, me and your old man sure weren't ever gonna be fishing buddies, but I am sorry. Losing a parent... that shit stings. Even when it sometimes shouldn't."

"He's not dead."

"I never said otherwise."

"Michonne and Daryl are out looking for him."

"They think he's alive?"

"...they know he's out there either way."

"So they're out there... and you're down here? Sorry to tell you I haven't seen him."

"That's not why I came."

"It's honestly disappointing... seeing you hiding down here. Hell, open the damn door, and I'll help look for our benevolent leader."

Carl suddenly got a lot quieter. "Negan, I wanted to—"

"Yes?" There was an audible cat-like grin attached to his words.

"—to ask you..."

"Go on."

"I wanted to ask you if you think I should."

"Should what?"

"This was a mistake."

"Oh now, c'mon, Carl... don't leave. I'll answer your questions, but I need to hear them coated in some beautifully descriptive words. I don't get too many of those these days."

"I- I don't—"

"Damn, kid. I don't know if I've ever heard you stutter before. This that thing with the eye you told me about back when you were my prisoner?"

"Negan."

"Carl."

"Do you think I should look for him? Is it fair to be out there when my sister is in here, when Alexandria is still struggling, when..."

Negan let a long pause hang over the conversation.

"When Rhys is here for you?"

"...Yeah."

"You wanna know what I think?"

"I asked."

"Why?"

Carl didn't answer that.

"I think... if you reckon he's out there, like, really out there... who the hell are these people to tell you that it's not worth the time?"

Carl came out of the cellar then, looking up at where I'm sitting at the top of the cold stone steps, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders.

"Did you hear all that?" he asks.

I nod.

Carl sighs, slowly walking up the steps.

"Are you mad?" I ask, standing to meet him.

"No," he says, "I would have asked you to come if it wasn't for... you know."

"I do," I say, throwing the blanket over both our shoulders as we start making our way up to the house.

I don't ask him why he went to Negan. I guess I can understand wanting an opinion as different as his. I don't tell him what he should do, either. I wait for morning when I know he will have made a decision, and when he asks me to come out to search with him, I say yes.