Carol struggled to clear the fog in her brain. Ed was shaking her shoulders and she instinctively braced for the fist coming next. The unexpected caress of a calloused hand on her cheek woke her faster than any blow could. Daryl's features sharpened into view and she smiled up at him for only a second before it registered. Fear. She was instantly fully awake.

"We gotta go. The window… now!" he whispered urgently. She bolted out of bed as he lowered the bag of supplies and his crossbow, then himself, to the ground below. She followed feet-first, thankful the drop was only a few feet as he helped soften her landing. They ran into the trees and didn't look back as the word echoed out behind them, over and over.

Claimed.

Branches lashed at her limbs. Rocks grabbed at her feet. She hit the ground before she even knew she'd tripped, landing on pine needles and brushy weeds. He helped her clamber back to her feet, her lungs on fire with the effort, but she wouldn't be the reason they were caught by whoever had put that look on his face. She wouldn't have anyone else's blood on her hands.

The spasms of muscle cramps were teasing at her calves when they finally spotted the tracks a few minutes later. Carol collapsed beside the rails and inhaled deeply until the burning in her lungs faded and her legs stopped shaking. A quick glance at Daryl reminded her she'd had it easy. He was on his knees, doubled over with one hand on his ribs and the other tightly clenched the metal rail, fighting the retching of his stomach as it tried to rid itself of the little amount of food it contained.

She dug through the bag next to him and waited until his hand relaxed and the color began to return to his face. "Did you know them?" she asked, handing him a half-empty bottle of water. He managed a sip and then looked back toward where they'd come from, shaking his head.

"What was it? What did you see?"

"We were followed. Dunno how, but there was two of 'em," he explained through hitching breaths. "Had the same gear, had to be the same bunch."

Her brow creased with the questions bubbling up in her brain. Two men could have been ambushed, but Daryl had chosen flight over fight. He'd shown such desperation to escape he'd nearly killed himself in the process.

He caught her expression and shook his head, finally starting to take more measured breaths.

"There was another group. A lot of 'em. They just up and killed one of them guys. No warnin'."

Carol gave a quick nod of understanding. It seemed like only the worst of the worst were surviving these days. Still, she wasn't sorry to hear one of their pursuers had been eliminated. She took the water bottle from him and helped him to his feet.

"Other one's on his knees, beggin'. Pointed to the cabin," Daryl added. "S'all I needed to see." He bent toward the gravel next to the railroad ties, brushing it smooth with his fingers. "We gotta go. Cover our tracks this time and head toward Ter…." He squeezed his eyes closed and let his head drop to his chest just as a handful of gravel fell from his fingers into the dust.

"Daryl?"

Panic propelled her into action, lifting his chin to check his eyes, but they flicked open and she paused in her confusion. Instead of dilated pupils or the pain of injury she expected, they reflected defeat.

"Beth's note," he said. "Don't need to track us. They know right where we're goin'. Us and everyone else."

Carol blinked slowly, mind swirling. Their family was headed toward Terminus. If they had been slowed or turned around by obstacles, they'd be sitting ducks when these guys caught up to them, unaware of how much trouble they were in. Flight was taken off the table, leaving them only with fight. They had to do something, but the numbers were impossible. Two of them against a large group? A group vicious enough to kill first and ask questions later? A group who had the upper hand with the knowledge of where they were heading and were certain to give chase?

The idea clicked into place.

"Yes, they do," she said, her face set in fierce determination.

He watched her count them out. Nine.

Nine bullets, eight bolts, two knives, and one plan that was either completely batshit crazy or fucking brilliant. Carol moved two bullets from one clip to the other, evening out the pistols a bit. Daryl shook his head and tapped his crossbow, trying to silently convince her that she needed more ammo than he did. She compromised, moving one bullet back to hers, and he could see she wouldn't budge after that. He took the pistol she offered, checked the safety and slipped it into his waistband.

The low snap of a twig behind them made him whip his head around. A thicket about 200 yards back rustled almost imperceptibly and he felt relief and alarm compete for control of his heart rate. Either the exhaustion of travelling for another half-day was making him hallucinate, or they were closing in.

Following the tracks had cut their travel time significantly, despite stopping long enough to stage a run-in with walkers and leaving plenty of evidence they'd changed direction and run into the woods. Now that they'd led them here, it was time to get out of sight.

Daryl tugged at her sleeve and they stayed low, crouching as they made their way from the trees and slipped between what remained of the battered wooden walls of an old utility shed. They'd gone nearly full circle, but now they were on the north side of town instead of the west, and he looked to her for guidance. He'd navigated them here, but she knew the layout of this town, had studied the blocks from overhead and made her way through the buildings unnoticed. She stared toward the far end of the dilapidated school across the way, watching for movement. If a patrol didn't pass soon, the whole thing would be over before it started, but she'd been confident about their frequency at the edges of town. His eyes shifted to the tree line, then back to her face, ghostly pale against the late evening light. Her mouth was drawn tight, breathing a little more rapid than it should have been, and he cursed himself in his head.

Returning to this place was an act of desperation, and one he was regretting more and more with each passing second. It made sense when she'd explained it, but he never should have let her convince him to bring her back here. Not to this place. If they'd continued on toward Terminus, maybe they would have found people. Some sort of safety in numbers. Instead they were here again, facing a new torment piled on top of old ones.

He rested a hand on her forearm, feeling the subtle flinch beneath it. Her eyes stayed riveted on the school, jaw held tight, but she allowed her fingers to brush lightly across his before giving his hand a sudden, hard squeeze.

"Now," she whispered.

The cracked asphalt felt a mile long as they sprinted across the old basketball courts. No cover. Nothing but wide open space. They were halfway across… twenty yards… ten…. He rounded the corner just as the muffled yelp hit his ears. An arrow cartwheeled across the grass in front of him and he grabbed her arm, yanking her behind the wall just as another sailed through the space where her neck had been a fraction of a second earlier.

She slipped from his grip and stumbled, landing hard on the grass and suppressing another cry of pain. His fingers were slick and red. As red as her sleeve. As red as the flesh now exposed beneath it. He wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her to her feet, terrified that she'd been hit more than once.

"Just a graze," she panted. "Don't stop!"

He kept a hand at her elbow as they scampered along the wall, not hesitating until they reached a cluster of houses and turned another corner out of sight. She paused and looked around slowly, getting her bearings, then ducked under the porch of the third house in. Seconds later she slid through a broken window into the basement and he followed.

The setting sun barely illuminated the three bodies that lay rotting in the corner, knife wounds in their heads courtesy of one of Carol's past visits. Gruff voices carried through the street and Daryl and Carol tucked themselves into the tiny gap between the furnace and the stone wall, dragging the corpses in front of them to camouflage the opening. If someone checked thoroughly enough, they'd be seen, but with their new friends giving cover, maybe they'd pass for just two more dead.

Footsteps echoed overhead, sweeping from room to room. He could feel Carol breathing behind him, quick and shallow, silent in her pain. He tried to shift to face her, but the space was too tight. The only comfort he could give her was his hand, sticky with her blood. He was about to reach back when the basement door swung open on creaky hinges above them, casting a dim light around the dingy space.

The heavy thud of a boot hit the top stair, scattering dirt and dust that clung to the sweat on his skin. He braced himself, slowing his breathing, waiting for the next thud to rain down more grime on their heads. The hard rubber sole hit the next plank and Daryl laid out his strategy in his head. Silence was imperative. Getting his crossbow loaded and aimed without drawing attention was impossible. He carefully slipped his knife from its sheath, feeling Carol move behind him in a similar fashion.

Thud. The seconds ticked away and each one made his nerves crackle. Why couldn't this guy just get a move on already? Daryl spotted the leather of the boot through the open back of the stairs. One more inch and he'd hear that god-awful thud again, but all he heard was screaming as the pops and cracks of rapid gunfire erupted outside. The boots retreated at full speed back up the stairs, dirt showering down on them like confetti celebrating their victory of survival. He listened as an all-out war began above their heads while they remained tucked away unnoticed, finally letting himself believe that maybe this plan was going to work after all.

He sheathed his knife and reached behind him, expecting to feel Carol's warm hand take his, but he felt something cold and hard instead. She pressed the long, narrow object into his palm, closing his fingers around it. Her voice, soft and tinged with what he swore was almost amusement, barely graced his ear above the din from overhead.

"I got you a present."

He pulled his hand back and recognized the arrow that had deflected off her arm into the grass. She must have somehow tucked it away when she fell.

Here they were, sitting in the middle of a giant trap of a town, caught in a game of cat and mouse. And damned if that once-mouse hadn't become the cat after all. He couldn't help but smile to himself as he took stock.

Nine bullets, nine bolts, nine lives.

The cold air set her shivering as they snuck out the back door of the house. Night had fallen, and though the blood no longer flowed from her arm, Carol had already lost enough to make her lightheaded and chilled to the bone.

Bodies filled the street around them. Men from the town. Men from elsewhere. They stopped long enough to grab a few more weapons, some knives and small guns they could carry easily, a semi-automatic machine gun she slung across her back. The chaos had died down a few hours ago, but they still needed to be prepared. Even with sizeable numbers on both sides, it looked as though the townies had won in the end, likely holed up and regrouping at the armory. Carol and Daryl needed to stay out of sight and get to the safety of the theater, assess the damage in the light of day, figure their odds.

She leaned unsteadily against a brick wall while Daryl took out another walker. There were plenty of fresh ones roaming, and zero patrols. Apparently their plan had made a significant impact. He sheathed the knife and lifted her good arm over his shoulder again as they picked their way along the streets, ducking into blind alleys, keeping to the sheltered sides of the buildings as they made their way across town. He turned right and she stopped him, nodding across the street instead.

"The clinic," she instructed. "There are still some supplies in there. I need to clean this."

He turned, guiding her across the street and into the wood-framed building. He stopped just inside the door, uncertain where to go now that they were in complete darkness. She was unnerved, too, but pushed forward by memory, hoping against hope she didn't run into a walker as she made her way around the counter toward the exam rooms.

She found the knob she was looking for and turned it quietly, slowly pushing the door open. Daryl slipped into the room behind her and she shuffled toward the cabinets on the far wall, running smack into a solid chest as strong arms clutched her own and held her still.

"Stop right there!" a voice yelled as a painfully bright light blinded her. With every bit of remaining strength she had, she struggled against those arms, but the burly redhead held her tighter and she went nowhere, managing only to tear open her wound against his grip. She thrashed through the pain, but couldn't reach a weapon, couldn't even make herself cry out for Daryl's help as the walls in her mind crumbled and it all came back. The crushing weight on top of her, hitting her until she slit his throat and soaked in the blood that flowed from him. The slaughter of that family, the ground turning red beneath them as they were ripped apart, all while these men stood over them laughing. Karen and David, slowly choking on their own blood until she ended their misery with her knife. Everything she'd survived and pushed through for months came crashing into her and she stilled beneath it, trapped and unable to think or speak or fight. Trapped and at the mercy of the merciless.

She spotted Daryl jumping toward the man, about to strike when a familiar voice shouted out, halting him before his fist landed against the big man's jaw.

"Holy shit!"

The redhead looked back toward the voice as another flashlight clicked on and shined toward the man who'd spoken.

Carol shook her head in disbelief. It was self-preservation… her brain making up some outlandish scenario to block out the agony she was certain was about to befall them, the nightmare that would take Daryl's life and her own. It couldn't be real. It couldn't, but the strong arms released her and she fell into the familiar ones instead. All her pain was forgotten as he held onto her and laughed with pure joy, rocking her gently until she knew he was truly there and not her mind's attempt to protect her in her final moments. She sobbed into his shoulder, hearing Daryl shuffle behind her and slap him on the back.

"Glenn! Jesus, I can't believe it's you."