~Clary~

Rick, Michonne, Carl, and I sit around a fire, still on our way to Terminus, a supposed safe haven. Coming across a sign for it after fleeing the house, we decided that it's a good a place as any to go to. Once we're there, the first thing that I'll do is try to find Daryl, and the rest of our group.

"How hungry are you, on a scale of one to ten?" Rick inquires, looking at his son.

Carl looks up at him. "Fifteen."

Rick grins, and looks over at Michonne. "Twenty-eight," she tells him.

"What about you?" Rick asks me.

"Thirty-nine," I say with a grin.

"Well, it's been a while," Rick says, pouring us all beans. "I'm gonna go check the snares."

"Can I go with you?" Carl inquires.

"How else you gonna learn?" I raise my hand. "Point taken." Rick puts out the fire, looking at Michonne and I. "Same with you two."

Michonne stands, and I put my beans down on the ground. "But I didn't get to finish my beans," I pout.

"We'll be back," Rick says, picking up a bag. I lead the way, knowing where we set the snares the night before. "We'll stay another day or two," he tells us. "Get some more rest."

"Finish healing up?" Michonne adds.

"I'm almost there."

"We're close now, right?" Carl asks.

"To Terminus?" Rick replies, and Carl nods. "Yeah."

"When we get there, are we gonna tell them?"

"Tell them what?" Michonne inquires.

"Everything that's happened to us," Carl answers. "All the stuff we've done. Are we gonna tell them the truth?"

"We're gonna tell them who we are," Rick says.

"But… how do you say that? I mean… who are we?"

We're quiet for a moment, and I'm the one to break the silence. "Team Free Will. One badass with a sword, one kid in a cowboy hat, Mr. Comatose over there, and one redneck with six bucks to her name and a give-'em-hell attitude. It's awesome."

"It's not funny," Carl replies.

"I ain't laughing."

Before we can say anything else, there's a growling up ahead. A lone walker stumbles through the woods towards us, and Michonne steps forward, drawing her katana. We follow, weapons raised, in case there are more. When we find that there are none, I continue on to the traps we set.

"Got one," I say as we near the first trap. "Rick, it's all yours."

"It's a small one," he reports, taking the dead rabbit out of the trap he set. "It'll do." Rick puts it in his bag, then turns to Carl. "So, this is a simple slipknot. Tie one on both ends, then you tighten one side to a branch. Now, you see how the ground here is sort of like a funnel shape?"

"It's a trail?" Carl guesses.

"Right." Rick shows Carl how to set the trap while redoing it himself. "That's where you want to set the noose. You hide it with leaves. Then, you put sticks all around it so any animals going by have to run this way, right into the trap." He looks up at me, pulling the string off his wrist. "Am I doing this right?"

I give him a thumbs up. "I have taught you well, young Jedi."

Just as I say that, in the distance, a man screams for help. Carl is the first one to react, taking off towards the sound. "Carl," Rick starts, but Carl ignores him. "Carl, stop!"

He takes off, and I take off after him, Rick and Michonne following closely behind. "Carl!" I call. "Stop! Goddammit!"

Carl stops as he reaches the clearing, and I see a man surrounded by the walkers. More than anyone could fight off at once. He raises his gun, but I immediately push it down, knowing the shots will bring all those walkers to us. Rick pulls him away, while Carl tries to fight back, trying to free himself. "We can't help him," Rick said. "There's nothing we can do for him now."

I look at Rick, and suddenly the necklace that I always wear weighs heavily on my shoulders. It carries the ring of my best friend before all this shit, him giving it to me on the day he died. Those words, nothing we can do for him now, are the same words Daryl said to me after I watched him go down under a pile of walkers, just like this guy now.

A walker has noticed us, and is making its way forward, followed by a few others. "Oh, hell with it," I say, pulling out my own gun.

I fire, taking down two of the walkers before Michonne grabs my arm and pulls me along with her. We run towards the train tracks not far away, not even going back for our supplies, followed by the dead. We stop for a second when we see a small group of about four up ahead. We take them down with ease, then we look behind ourselves to see the number of walkers increasing. "Let's go," Rick says.

I pull my arrow out of a walker's head as we follow our leader, him taking control once again. We run away from the tracks, down a road that Michonne picks out. The four of us lose the walkers, but I still look over my shoulder, watching for them. "Thought maybe there'd be some houses down this way," Michonne says. "Maybe even a store. There's got to be some food around here somewhere."

"Hey, look," Carl says, and I turn my attention away from the road behind us. Down the road a ways, an abandoned truck is parked. A door is open, a bullet in the windshield, and the front pretty much destroyed, but it looks like a good a place as any to set up shelter for the night.

We draw our weapons as we approach, Michonne taking care of the walker lying not too far away.

Carl and I sit in the backseat of the truck, trying to get some sleep, but failing. I sit curled up next to him, my head resting on his shoulder, with his arm around me. I shift, trying to get a little more comfortable. Carl reaches over, gently brushing my hair out of my face. Outside, sitting around a fire, Rick and Michonne talk. "That was one small rabbit," Rick says.

"It was something," Michonne says. "Got to hand it to the thing. It travelled well."

"Have you noticed that's all we talk about anymore? Food. I forgot what this feels like."

"Me, too," Michonne agrees. "I hope we're able to forget again soon."

"We're close," Rick tells her. "Just got to make it through another day." He puts out the fire with his foot, relying on the moon for light. "If the folks there are taking people in, they have to be strong. They have to have a system."

Michonne lowers her voice, thinking that Carl and I can't hear, but I can. "I wonder if the whole thing's legit."

In the woods, branches snap, and Rick and Michonne turns toward them. Carl and I follow their gaze, his hand on his gun, and me reaching for my crossbow. We're all silent, waiting. When there's no other sound, Rick sits back down next to Michonne, and we release our weapons. I scan the woods, the shake my head at Carl. I saw nothing, and it worries me.

"We let people in," Rick says.

"We did," Michonne agrees. "So did the Governor."

Rick nods. "Yeah. It's always the same, isn't it? Don't get to know until we know. Maybe this place isn't even there anymore."

I look up when I hear a new voice. "Oh, dearie me," a man says, and I begin to recognize it. "You screwed up, asshole."

Michonne goes for her sword, but another man kicks it away. More men come out of the woods, as the leader of the claimers says, "You hear me? You screwed up. Today is a day of reckoning, sir. Restitution. A balancing of the whole damn universe."

Carl and I jump when there's a pounding on the window, and we turn to see one of the group members there, looking in at us. Carl puts his arm across me, silently telling the asshole that he has to go through Carl to get to me. In his ear, I whisper, "It's the claimers. The ones we ran from."

Outside, the leader says, "Shit, and I was thinking of turning in for the night on New Year's Eve." He laughs. "Now who's gonna count down the ball dropper with me, huh? Ten Mississippi! Nine Mississippi! Eight Mississippi!"

"Joe!" a familiar voice barks. I gasp, turning to look through the windshield, not believing my ears. "Daryl," I whisper.

He walks in front of the truck, crossbow in front of him. Daryl looks the exact same as the last time I saw him, back at the prison before he went on the run. I thought I'd never see him again, and yet, here he is. "Daryl."

"Hold up," Daryl says. He glances inside the truck, eyes going wide seeing us in here.

"You're stopping me on eight, Daryl," the leader, Joe, says, and Daryl turns back to him.

"Just hold up," Daryl says, staring at Rick.

"This is the guy that killed Lou, so we got nothing to talk about," one of the claimers says.

"The thing about nowadays is we got nothing but time," Joe says. "Say your piece, Daryl."

"These people, you're gonna let 'em go. These are good people," Daryl says.

"Now, I think Lou would disagree with you on that. I'll, of course, have to speak for him and all 'cause your friend here strangled him in a bathroom."

"You want blood. I get it." Daryl drops his crossbow to the ground. "Take it from me, man."

"Daryl! Don't!" I exclaim, my voice frantic, and he holds up a hand to silence me. He turns to Joe, saying, "C'mon."

"This man killed our friend," Joe says. "You say he's good people. See, now that right there, is a lie. It's a lie!"

One of the claimers hit Daryl in the gut, and he doubles over, obviously in pain. "No!" I yell. "You bastards!"

I scramble out the side of the truck, Carl calling my name after me, as the two claimers knock Daryl into the truck. I throw a punch, but it misses its target. I fall into the truck after being punched, next to Daryl, and see the claimer from earlier pulling a fighting Carl out of the truck. "You leave him be!" Rick barks.

"Don't fucking touch her!" Daryl yells as one of the claimers throws me to the ground. I struggle against him as he climbs on top of me, and go still when he presses a knife to my throat. "Daryl," I choke out. "Daryl, please."

The claimer removes his knife, slapping me. "Shut up, bitch."

He drops the knife about a foot or two away, trying to pin me down. I struggle against him, crying out and calling for Daryl. I reach for the knife, but it's just out of my reach. "Daryl!" I shriek, my voice an octaive higher with fear, as he undoes my belt, trying to get in my jeans. "Daryl!"

Daryl lunges for the claimer, elbowing the one that's holding him in the face. He tackles him off of me, like he tackled the walker off of Dale back on the farm. He throws a few punches, but is kneed in the gut. He falls to the side, while the second claimer kicks me to the ground. I curl up in a ball, not trying to stop him, just waiting for the pain to stop.

Meanwhile, a gunshot rings out, and I glance over to see Rick looking dazed and Joe reeling back. A well placed kick to head lands on me, and I black out.

~Daryl~

"Clary!" I yell, seeing her go still after the bastard kicks her in the head. Another gunshot rings out, and I see Michonne lying on the ground now. I panic, thinking both she and Clary are dead, and fight the claimers with all that I'm worth. They knock me into the truck once again, and I now see Michonne starting to move. She's alive, lunging for the gun that Tony, one of the claimers, has. A gunshot rings out, and he drops to the ground. I'm kicked to the ground, landing next to Clary. They kick both of us, and I try to cover her body, still curled in a ball, with mine. I'l protect her until I breathe my final breath, until the very end.

~Rick~

As the ringing in my ears subsides, I struggle to get to my feet. Joe taunts me, wanting to "see what I got." I get to my feet, snarling, "Leave him be!"

Joe grabs me by the arms, keeping me from going anywhere. "What the hell you gonna do now, Sport?"

I snap.

I sink my teeth into Joe's neck, warm blood filling my mouth. But I don't care. I pull back, ripping out the flesh and arteries. I spit out his flesh as he falls to the ground, Michonne picking off one the claimer's beating Daryl. She aims her stolen gun at the other, but Daryl stops her. "No," he growls, his voice far more deadlier and terrifying than I've ever heard it. "He's mine."

I shiver in fear at his voice, which is something in itself considering I just killed a man by ripping out his throat. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him brutally kill the other, the one that had attempted to rape his sister.

Michonne turns her gun to the claimer on top of Carl, who pulls my son to his feet. He holds his knife to Carl's neck, saying, "I'll kill him. I'll kill him."

"Let the boy go," Michonne says quickly.

I pull the knife out of Joe's sheath, starting forward. "He's mine," I growl.

The sick fucker drops Carl, begging for his life. I plunge the knife into his chest, then into his neck. I don't stop, ignoring the claimer's cries of pain. I make damn well sure he dies slowly, painfully, for what he did to my boy.

~Daryl~

I kneel next to Clary, my hand gently brushing her hair out of her face. It's still contorted in pain, her belt buckle still undone from the sick bastard. I gather her into my arms, ignoring the blood on my hands from where I beat the bastard to death. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see she's still breathing. "I'm so sorry, Clars," I whisper, a small break in my voice. "I'm sorry."

I sit with her limp in my arms, leaning against the truck. Michonne takes Carl inside the truck, her arm wrapped protectively around him. He looks at Clary, horrified, as he passes. I look up after a while, around at the remains of the claimers. While I sat with Clary, Rick took care of putting a knife through their brains, making sure they wouldn't come back. I should help him move the bodies, but I can't bring myself to leave my sister. "Daryl," Michonne says, stepping out of the truck. "I'll watch her."

I look up at her, nodding once. I redo Clary's belt before lifting her up, gently placing her in the truck with Carl and Michonne. I help Rick move the bodies, still waiting for my sister to wake up, and pray that she's alive when she does.

The next morning, I walk the perimeter, watching for any walkers drawn out by the shots last night. I return to find Rick sitting on the ground, leaning against the truck. I grab a water bottle and take my rag out of my back pocket, handing them down to Rick. "We should save it," he says. "To drink."

"You can't see yourself," I tell him, then gesture inside to Carl and Clary. "They can."

Rick takes the rag, trying to wipe the blood off his face and out of his beard. I sit down beside him, still feeling terrible about what happened to his boy, to my sister. "I didn't know what they were," I tell him.

Rick nods. "How'd you wind up with them?"

"I was with Beth. We got out together. I was with her for a while."

I look down, guilty about letting her get taken by some asshole in a car with a white cross on it. "Is she dead?" Rick inquires.

I shake my head. "She's just gone. After that, that's when they found me. I mean, I knew they were bad, but they had a code. It was simple. Stupid, but it was something. It was enough."

"And you were alone."

"Said they were looking for some guy. Last night, they said they spotted him. I was hangin' back, I was gonna leave, go lookin' for Clary. But I stayed. That's when I saw it was you four. Right when you saw me. I didn't know what they could do."

"It's not on you, Daryl," Rick tries to tell me, but I shake my head. "It's not. You being back with us here, now, that's everything." I look down. "You're my brother."

I look up at him, "Hey, what you did last night… anybody would have done that."

"No, not that," Rick says.

"Something happened. That ain't you."

"Daryl, you saw what I did to Tyreese. It ain't all of it, but that's me. That's why I'm here now. That's why Carl is. I want to keep him safe. That's all that matters."

"What you did… I'd've done the same thing, if it meant savin' her," I say, tilting my head to the truck to indicate that I'm talking about Clary. As I do, Michonne opens the door, leaning out. "Daryl," she says.

I immediately know it's about Clary. "Is she…"

"She's awake," Michonne says. I breathe a sigh of relief. I had been afraid that she was dead, all night. But she woke up. I lean in the truck, and see Carl helping his girlfriend sit up, arm around her shoulders. "Where's—" she starts, but stops as I open the door. "Daryl."

I have to take a step back to keep my balance as she throws her arms around me, burying her face in my shoulder. "Daryl," she whimpers, trying to choke back a sob. "Daryl."

I hug her, but I'm hesitant to touch her after last night. She lets out a sob, whimpering, "I thought I'd never see you again."

"I'm here," I tell her, sinking to the ground. We sit on ours knees, arms around each other as she sobs into my shoulder. "I'm here, Clars. And I ain't never leavin' you."

~Clary~

We walk down the tracks towards Terminus, Rick and Michonne taking point. Daryl and Carl walk in the middle, while I take the back. We stop when we come to a sign that fell down, Rick turning to look at us. "We're getting close," Daryl says. "Be there before sundown."

"Now we head through the woods," Rick says. "We don't know who they are."

We head into the woods, Daryl and Rick taking point. Michonne and I follow, and Carl brings up the rear. I turn around to look at him at one point, and catch him staring at my ass as I walk. Carl blushes, looking away, while I grin, amused. I look back ahead, and see a fence not far ahead. We step up to it, looking down into an empty courtyard. We watch for movement, and when we see none, Rick says, "We all spread out, watch for a while, see what we see, and get ready. We all stay close."

We nod and break off, and I follow closely behind Daryl. We walk in silence, and I gently rub the back of my head. It's still sore from where the claimer kicked me, and I have a splitting headache, worse than my hell of a hangover after that night at the CDC. Daryl sees me rubbing my head, and looks at me, concerned. "How's your head?"

"It feels like I got shit-faced drunk," I tell him, wincing slightly at the sound of our voices, despite them being quiet. "But worse. I feel like shit."

He turns me to face him, bending down so we're eye level. I blink, trying to keep him in focus. I feel dizzy, like I could fall over at any moment. I blink again, and the next thing I know, Daryl has his arms around me, keeping me up. "Jesus, Clary," he says. "You should've said something."

"What happened?" I ask.

"You started to fall over. Bastard gave you a concussion. Sit down before you fall down," he orders, helping me sit. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere, and keep your eyes open."

I nod, and Daryl disappears into the trees. A minute later, he returns with Rick, the two speaking quietly to each other. Rick kneels in front of me, taking a good look, then turns to Daryl, nodding. He looks back down at me. "Why don't you come back with me? I'm staying in one spot, by the fence. You can rest."

"I'm fine," I say, standing. I start to fall over, off balance, and Rick catches me. "Okay, maybe not."

"C'mon," Rick says, lifting me up. I immediately wrap my arms around Rick's neck, resting my head on his shoulder. He nods to Daryl as he passes, carrying me back to the fence. The leader sits me down on the ground, standing beside me, watching Terminus.

~Rick~

I look down at the young girl sitting at my feet, her back against the fence. Clary's so young, and yet, she's probably seen more shit than I have. She's a survivor, there's no doubt about it. A concussion won't stop her. Hell, I've seen her take an arrow to the side and be up walking around the same night.

"How'd it happen?" I ask her.

She looks up at me. "Daryl said one of the claimers kicked me in the head. I don't remember much after the bastard tried to..."

Clary's voice trails off, not wanting to say it. After the bastard tried to rape her. After another claimer tried to do the same to my son. I turn my attention back to Terminus, not knowing what to say. When I hear muffled sobs, I look down, and see that Clary's struggling to keep it together. I kneel next to her, gently putting an arm around her. Gently so as not to scare her, knowing after last night any contact with anyone other than Daryl would scare the living shit out of her. Clary leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. "I'm scared," she whispers. "I'm scared, Rick. What if Terminus ain't safe? What if it's like Woodbury, all over again?"

"It won't be," I lie. I have my doubts about the place, even if I haven't seen anything suspicious. But she doesn't need to know that. Right now, all she needs is someone to make her feel safe. "It's gonna be fine. And hey, scared's good. It keeps you alive."

Clary lets out a sob, but she quickly stifles it, afraid a walker will hear her, or someone from Terminus. "Maybe if I hadn't left him alone," she whispers. "If I hadn't gone to fight with Daryl. Maybe he wouldn't've been—"

"You can't say that," I say, cutting her off. "Nothing would have changed it. If anything, it could've been worse."

"Nothing could be worse than seein' Carl hurt," Clary says, still shaking. "Or Daryl, Michonne, or you."

It's then that I know she still trusts me. Despite me banishing her and Carol, Clary still trusts me, still cares. "You're my family, and I don't to see any of y'all get hurt."

"We'll be safe," I tell her. I stand, and take a shovel, and the duffel bag full of weapons. I dig a hole big enough for it, and Clary places her crossbow, gun, and knife in the bag, pulling out another gun and a smaller knife to replace them. She straps the holster around her thigh, checking to see if the magazine is full. Clary puts the gun in the holster, and slips the knife into her boot. I exchange my Python for another handgun as Daryl approaches. He kneels next to Clary, whispering something in her ear. She nods, and he stands, looking at me. He doesn't say anything, so I say, "Just in case."

I bury the bag as we regroup, climbing over the fence. I climb over first, watching for any other survivors, and the others follow me into what could be enemy territory.

~Clary~

Daryl leads the way into a building, followed by Rick. Carl and I follow them, Michonne bringing up the rear. We enter a large room, where a woman sits, speaking into a microphone. Broadcasting the message of Terminus. "Sanctuary for all, community for all. Those who arrive, survive." Rick leads the way in, and we follow closely. At the other end, a small group of people stand over maps of the Georgia railroads. "Hello," Rick says, announcing our presence. "Hello."

All heads turn to us, except for a dark haired guy in his mid-twenties. "Well, I bet Albert is on perimeter watch," he says with a sigh. He turns to walk towards us, and the way he holds himself tells me that he's the leader. "You here to rob us?"

"No," Rick replies, his voice echoing through the station. "We wanted to see you before you saw us."

"Makes sense," the leader says. "Usually, we do this where the tracks meet." He clears his throat. "Welcome to Terminus. I'm Gareth. Looks like you've been on the road for a good bit."

"We have," Rick confirms. "Rick. That's Carl, Daryl, Clary, Michonne."

Gareth raises his hand in a wave. We say nothing. He says, "You're nervous. I get it. We were all the same way." He takes another couple steps closer. "We came here for sanctuary. That's what you're here for?"

"Yes," Rick says with a nod.

"Good. You found it," Gareth says. He looks over his shoulder. "Hey, Alex." Gareth turns back to us as another dark haired survivor starts forward. "This isn't as pretty as the front. We got nothing to hide, but the welcome wagon is a whole lot nicer." He glances over as Alex arrives. "Alex will take you, ask you a few questions. Uh, but first, we need to see everyone's weapons. If you could just lay them down in front of you."

We're all hesitant, and Rick is the first to oblige. "All right," he says.

He lays his gun down on the ground, and Gareth says, "I'm sure you understand."

"Yes, I do," Rick replies, laying his knife down. Carl lays his gun and knife down, Daryl his crossbow and knife, and Michonne her sword. I lay down my gun, but keep my knife in my boot, praying they won't pat us down. I keep my face expressionless, but my spirits fall when I see Rick holding up his arms. Gareth pats him down, and Alex pats Daryl down. "Hate to see the other guy," Alex says, referring to Daryl's bruises.

"You would," Rick says. Alex moves over to me, and I flinch when he starts to pat me down. Daryl catches it, and growls, "Don't touch her."

Alex immediately removes his hands, holding them up. "Sorry," he apologizes. Then, he asks, "Did they deserve it?"

"Yes," Carl answers, looking over at me as Alex starts to pat him down. Gareth faces Rick, saying, "Just so you know, we aren't those kind of people. But we aren't stupid, either. And you shouldn't be stupid enough to try anything stupid. As long as everyone's clear on that, we shouldn't have any problems. Just solutions."

Gareth walks off, leaving Alex and us behind. Alex picks up Michonne's katana, handing it back to her. She eyes him warily as he moves over to me, picking up my gun. Daryl glares at him, picking up his weapons before Alex can reach him. He hands Carl and Rick their guns back with a stupid grin on his face. "Follow me," he says.

He leads us out of the station, still grinning like an idiot. I don't trust him. "How long this place been here?" Daryl inquires.

"Since almost the start," Alex answers. "When all the camps got overrun, people started finding this place. I think it was instinct, you know? Follow a path. Some folks were heading to the coast, other's up north or out west."

I tune out what he's saying, paying attention to the details around me. A woman starts talking, Michonne questions them, but I don't pay any attention to them at all. Then, I see it. The orange hitchhiker's bag from when Rick, Michonne, Carl, and I went on a run to Kings County. In the background, some guy wears riot gear. Glenn's riot gear. He's here, somewhere. There's no way in hell he would leave the prison without his riot gear. Sitting at a table, a woman in an only too-familiar poncho, one that once belonged to Daryl. I turn my attention back to Alex as he hands Carl a plate of meat, and my eyes land on a chain that disappears into his pocket. If that chain doesn't belong to the pocket watch that Hershel gave Glenn, then I ain't a Dixon.

I glance back at Rick, only to find him already making his way forward. He knocks a plate out of his hands, grabbing the pocket watch as he puts a gun to Alex's head. We immediately raise our weapons, and I scan the courtyard for anyone with guns. "Where the hell did you get this watch?" Rick demands.

The one in the riot gear is the only one with a gun. I scan the roof, looking for snipers. I spot one, and turn my gun towards him, knowing Carl has my back. "Where the hell did you get the watch?" Rick demands.

"You want answers?" Alex says, his voice sounding strangled. "You want anything else? You get 'em when you put the gun down."

"I see your man on the roof with the sniper rifle. How good's his aim? Where'd you get the watch?" When Alex doesn't answer, Rick barks, "Where'd you get the watch?!"

"Don't do anything!" Alex calls to the Termites with guns. "I have this! You just put it down. You put it down!" The sniper on the room lowers his gun, but I keep mine aimed at him. "You want to listen to me. There's a lot of us."

Rick lets out an annoyed sigh. "Where did you get the watch?"

"I got it off of a dead one. Didn't think he'd need it."

My heart skips a beat as he says that. Either he's lying, or he found Glenn, dead. But if he had been wearing the riot gear…

"What about the riot gear?" I demand, speaking for the first time since my break down in the woods. "The poncho?"

"Got the riot gear off a dead cop," Gareth lies. I don't turn to him, keeping my gun at the sniper on the roof. "Found the poncho on a clothesline."

"Gareth, we can wait," Alex says.

"Shut up, Alex," Gareth snaps.

"You talk to me," Rick says, his voice cold.

"What's there left to say?" Gareth inquires. "You don't trust us anymore."

"Gareth," Alex tries.

"Shut up," Gareth tells him.

"Gareth, please."

"It's okay, it's okay. Rick, what do you want?"

"Where are our people?" Rick growls.

"You didn't answer the question."

A gunshot goes off, and I fire at the sniper on the roof. He goes down, and we turn to run. Bullets hit the ground at our feet, forcing us to turn back to Terminus. I glance up to see another sniper has taken his place. We cover ourselves as bullets rain down around us, and turn and run, looking for an exit. We duck into a garage, but the door closes before we can reach the end, blocking an exit. A door is barred, eliminating that exit. It leaves one door open, and we duck through it.

We exit the building, running through yet another corridor. I don't miss all the bullet holes in the ground, in the cars, in the brick walls. This isn't the first time they've done this. "Get 'em off B!" comes a shout, and Daryl ducks to avoid being hit.

I return the fire, aiming two shots at the man on the roof. We run, and I nearly freeze when I see a pit full of skeletons. And they ain't walker skeletons. Rick grabs me by the arm, pulling me along. As we pass a boxcar, we hear banging and calls for help. "The hell?" Daryl inquires.

"Keep going!" Rick barks. We run into a room filled with burning candles and names written in chalk on the floor. We look around for a moment, catching our breath. "What kind of shit show did we drop into?" I ask.

"These people," Michonne says. "I don't think they're trying to kill us."

"No, they were aiming at our feet," Rick agrees.

"They're corralling us," I say. "Herding us to where they want us to be. Those bullet holes out there. The box cars. This ain't the first time they've done this."

"There," Rick says, pointing towards a door. We start towards it, but it's slammed closed. "You're right, Clary," Rick says as we run towards the only exit left open. "They're herding us like cattle."

As soon as we exit, bullets rain down on the ground in front of us. We run for the fence, but stop as men pop up, wielding guns. We stop, realizing that we're defeated. "Drop your weapons!" Gareth shouts from a nearby rooftop. "Now!"

No one makes a move to drop our weapons. "Do it or we'll shoot the girl," Gareth threatens.

Daryl immediately drops his crossbow, knowing they mean me. We all follow his lead, hesitantly. I don't remove the knife from my boot. "Ringleader," Gareth calls. "Go to your left. The train car. Go." Rick glances at the train car before looking back at Carl. "You do what we say, the boy goes with you. Anything else, he dies, and you end up in there anyway."

Carl nods once at his father, who then turns and walks towards the train car. "Now the archer," Gareth calls. Daryl looks at me. "I swear to god, we will kill the bitch."

"Go," I tell him. "I'll be right behind you. Until the very end."

Daryl nods once, following Rick to the train car. Gareth calls, "Now, the samurai."

She follows Rick and Daryl, the three of them standing in a line. "Stand at the door," Gareth calls. "Ringleader, archer, samurai. In that order."

Carl and I look at each other, then at our family. "My son," Rick calls.

"Go on, kid," Gareth says, releasing Carl. He looks at me as he slowly walks towards the ringleader, the archer, and the samurai. "I ain't goin' nowhere without her," Daryl calls.

"Dammit, Daryl," I mutter.

Gareth doesn't release me. "Ringleader," he calls. "Open the door and go in."

"I'll go in with them," Rick calls.

"Don't make us kill the kids now," Gareth calls. "Get goin', girl."

I start walking, following as fast as I can without running. I'm terrified right now, even if I don't show it. They're gonna kill my family. Rick opens the door, leading the way into our cage. Daryl and Michonne follow, and Carl pauses for a second at the bottom of the steps, allowing me time to catch up. Gareth doesn't say anything about it. "We'll be okay," he whispers, stepping into the train car.

My face shows my fear, I realize. I swallow, hardening my expression. Act like Dally, I think, remembering the characters in my favorite book, The Outsiders. Daryl takes me by the arm as soon as I reach the top step, putting his arms around me as he pulls me in. "I'm okay, Daryl," I tell him.

He releases me, but pushes me behind him when there's a thump from the opposite end of the train car. I hear footsteps, and immediately recognize them. I could cry as I hear him say, "Clary?"

"Glenn," I breathe, not hesitating to throw my arms around him. He hugs me back, looking at the others. "Rick?" he asks.

"You're here," Rick says, and I hug Glenn tighter, having worried that he was dead. "You're here."

I pull back from Glenn as I look at the others that came from his end of the train car. Bob, Sasha, and Maggie are the only ones that I recognize and know the names of. I recognize a girl with pigtails. She fought with the Governor. Three other people—a girl with dark hair, a tall, muscular ginger, and a dude with a kick-ass mullet—stand behind them. I take a second look at the ginger—the way he holds himself makes me think he was in the Army at some point in his life. Rock of Ages—also known as kick-ass mullet—obviously wouldn't have made it this far if it weren't for the ginger. Makes me wonder who he is.

"They're our friends," Maggie says when she catches Rick and I staring at them. "They helped save us."

"Yeah," Daryl agrees. "Now they're friends of ours."

"For however long that'll be," Ginger says.

"No," Rick says with a shake of his head. I reach down, pulling my knife out of my boot. Rick nods at me, looking around at all of us. "They're gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out."

"Find out what?" Ginger inquires as Rick looks out the crack in the door, the light creating eerie marks on his face.

"They're fucking with the wrong people."

The end of another book! What's going to happen next time for Clary and the group? How will she deal with seeing Tyreese again after the murder of Karen, and Carol after leaving her?

Until next time, bad bitches. Stay bad.

*slyly quotes Twaimz*