Later in the day, people gravitate to the central firepit. Andrea is fast asleep, catching up on her missed night, and Shane moves to the head of the group as he clears his throat.

"I've, uh...I've been thinking about Rick's plan," he says. "Now look, there are no guarantees either way. I'll be the first one to admit that. I've known this man a long time. I trust his instincts. I say the most important thing here is we need to stay together. So, those of you that agree, we leave first thing in the morning. Okay?"

I'm almost disappointed. Sure, it's not a thrill ride here, but the quarry has fish and we've got easy access to water. With the attack last night and Jim's worsening condition, the urgency to move on is higher than ever, and I can't argue against that. At least we're going to the C.D.C.

We get a few more instructions. We need to pack any food, water, and supplies that we can manage and prepare for travel: the usual. First, before anything else, I need to find myself a proper weapon. I head for the RV, noticing Dale about to go inside, and I call out to him. He turns.

"Dale, hey, do you have any extra knives?" I ask. "I don't have a weapon."

"Hm...I'll have to check," Dale says. He steps up into the RV, holding up his pointer finger at me. "One second, I may have something that'll work."

He disappears inside and I wait. I can hear Jim coughing, the wet, hacking sounds each more painful than the next, and I allow myself the selfish thought that I'm glad it isn't me in there. I think I'd just take the bullet at that point.

Dale emerges from the RV again, holding a knife. He hands it to me and I admire the leather sheath and the white handle. When I pull the knife out, it glints in the sunlight.

"My wife bought that on a whim at a hunting show we went to years back," Dale explains, smiling a little. "It's a bone handle. Should be sturdy enough for you."

"It's your wife's?" I repeat. I start to give it back. "I couldn't possibly..."

"Please, I'd be happy for you to have it," Dale insists. "She never used it. She wasn't the type, and...I think she'd gladly give it to you if she were here."

I wonder how recently her death was, but I won't ask. Instead, I bring the knife close to me, touched. "Thank you, Dale."

He waves his hand a bit. "Of course. Don't mention it." He gives me a smile. "Can't have everybody wanting a special knife, huh?"

"I won't tell a soul," I promise.

----------

"Daryl, check it out!"

I turn to the side, showing off the sheath on my belt, and Daryl eyes the blade. I pull it out, holding it out to him, and he steps forward to take it.

"Looks like a Bowie," he says, nodding. "Nice piece. You found this lying around?"

"Dale gave it to me," I say. He hands me it back and I test the grip, a little giddy. "Now I just need to learn how to use it."

"It's not hard. Aim and stab," Daryl grunts. He turns back to what he was doing, gripping the handles of a motorcycle.

I lean closer to him, folding my hands behind my back. "Could you show me a few moves?"

Daryl's hands freeze and he gives me a scorching look, eyebrow lifted, and I feel my body go hot. After a second, he huffs and shrugs.

"Maybe."

I count that as a win. "Awesome. Thanks in advance."

Another huff. He rolls the motorcycle forward, bringing it up onto a makeshift ramp and pushing it into the back of his truck. I watch, a little in awe.

"Cool bike," I say.

"It was Merle's," he replies, patting it as he hops back to the ground. "You ever ridden one?"

"No, but I always wanted to," I admit. I shoot him a look and a small smile. "Think you could take me for a ride sometime?"

He exhales through his nose, moving past me. "You gotta stop saying shit like that," he mutters.

"Like what?" I ask, blinking a few times as I tilt my head.

"You..." He stops, then shakes his head as my innocent expression starts to break. "Sure, I'll show you the bike sometime."

He turns away and I bite my lip against another smile. He's fun to tease, that's for sure.

----------

The rest of the day is busy as we pack up the camp. Shane keeps reminding everyone to pack light where they can to make sure there's enough room for the important stuff.

Daryl and I pick over the vacant tents, left empty after the attack, and I find a simple one that's only big enough for two people, but gives me a good amount of space for myself. There aren't any cots inside, only empty sleeping bags and camping mats.

"Looks like I've found my new place," I say. I look over my shoulder at Daryl. "I'll move my stuff out of your tent."

"Don't bother. We'll just be packing it up again tomorrow," he says. My eyebrows lift a little and he comes closer, reaching up to the straps keeping the tent against the poles. "We'll pack this up and take it with us."

So much for one more night, I think, but I bite my tongue as I get to work with taking the tent down. As he starts undoing the straps, I drag the sleeping bags and mats out and set them aside. I have a sleeping bag, but those mats should be useful. I wonder if it'll be comfier than Daryl's cot.

We finish packing up my new place and Daryl hoists it onto his shoulder, hauling it back to the vehicles. I gather the bedding.

I'm the only one who still needed a tent, so all the extra camping supplies get piled up and left by the side of the road. If survivors happen past here, then it's their lucky day. We pack supplies, refill all our water jugs and tanks, and work ourselves to the bone until the sun goes down.

We start a fire, cook up the last few cans of beans, and have a quiet, meager supper before turning in for the night. I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

----------

Daryl wakes me at the crack of dawn. We pack our things and dismantle the tent before heading back to work. I'm about to ask about breakfast, but our supper last night was barely a mouthful for each person, and I force myself to ignore my growling stomach as we work. With everything we did yesterday, all it takes is packing up the tents people slept in last night and packing everything into our vehicles.

Shane and Rick gather everyone by the cars when everything is said and done.

"Alright, listen up!" Shane calls. "Those of you with C.B.s, we're gonna be on channel forty. Let's keep the chatter down, okay? Now you got a problem, don't have a C.B., can't get a signal or anything at all, you're gonna hit your horn one time. That'll stop the caravan. Any questions?"

"We're, uh..." Morales starts, stepping forward. "We're not going."

Eliza rubs her daughter's shoulder. "We have family in Birmingham. We want to be with our people."

"You go on your own, you won't have anyone to watch your back," Shane warns.

"We'll take the chance," Morales says. "I gotta do what's best for my family."

"You sure?" Rick asks.

"We talked about it," Morales says, gesturing to his wife as they lock eyes, and they nod at each other. "We're sure."

"Alright," Rick says. "Shane?"

"Yeah, alright."

Rick kneels next to his duffel bag, a giant one boldly labeled with the word "POLICE" on the side. He pulls out a handgun—a pistol? I don't know guns—and Shane grabs a box from it. They walk to Morales and Rick holds out the gun.

Morales takes it and Shane hands him the ammo box. "It's half full," he says.

I hear Daryl scoff under his breath. He keeps fidgeting, chewing on his thumbnail, pacing in place.

"Thank you all," Eliza says, "for everything."

Lori moves to them, embracing Eliza. Carl and Sophia cry softly as they say goodbye to Morales's son and daughter. Shane and Rick shake Morales's hand and wish them all luck. There's plenty of hugs and tearful goodbyes.

"Channel forty if you change your minds," Rick says and Morales nods.

Carol comforts Sophia as they move to their yellow Jeep Cherokee and climb in.

"Come on. Let's go," Shane calls. "Let's move out!"

Everyone heads to their vehicles and I hesitate, locked in place, unsure where to go. I feel a light touch on my shoulder and jump a little as Daryl passes me. He gives me a brief side-eye as he gestures for me to follow him.

"Come on," he says. "I've got room in the truck."

I breathe a sigh of relief. I climb into the passenger side and set my backpack at my feet while Daryl starts the engine. A chorus of engines join the truck and we head out in a long line. The RV leads the way and Shane's Jeep brings up the rear, with Daryl and I right ahead of him.

I hear Morales honking his horn, arm waving out the window as he turns in the opposite direction as the RV. We hit the road and I look back at the hilltop, at the quarry that I wish I got to swim in one last time, and I turn back to face the front.

The road stretches out before us.

----------

We haven't gotten very far when the RV honks once, slowing to a chugging halt by the side of the road, and everyone pulls over. Daryl and I hop out and join the others in front of the RV. Its grill hisses and smokes.

"It's more duct tape than hose," Dale is saying as we approach, "and I'm out of duct tape."

Shane looks down the road through a pair of binoculars. "I see something up ahead. A gas station if we're lucky."

Jacqui rushes from the RV. "Y'all, Jim—it's bad. I don't think he can take any more."

She disappears back inside.

"Hey, Rick, you wanna hold down the fort?" Shane asks. "I'll drive ahead, see what I can bring back."

"Yeah, I'll come along too. I'll back you up," T-Dog says.

"Y'all keep your eyes open now. We'll be right back."

Shane and T-Dog walk off and Rick heads into the RV to speak to Jim. Daryl watches the woods to our right, crossbow held aloft. I watch him pace, then watch Shane's Jeep disappear up the road. Jacqui comes out of the RV and waits by the door, holding herself.

After a few minutes, Rick comes back out and gathers the adults together. Sophia and Carl stay in the car, keeping each other company.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"He can't take it and wants to be left here to...join his family," Rick says, confirming Jacqui's words. "I don't feel comfortable talking about this until Shane comes back."

It's like I can feel our spirits get heavier. Jacqui stiffens a bit, her jaw clenching as she tries to school her expression. We wait, pondering what's been said until the sound of the Jeep's engine harkens Shane and T-Dog's return. They've got extra gas and a whole lot of duct tape, but no radiator hose replacement.

Rick keeps his explanation brief when they join us again. Shane takes it in with a hard expression, lips pursed.

"It's what he says he wants," Rick says after a moment.

"And he's lucid?" Carol asks.

"He seems to be," Rick says. "I would say yes."

Dale speaks up, words slow and careful. "Back in the camp, when I said Daryl might be right and you shut me down, you misunderstood." He shakes his head. "I would never go along with callously killing a man. I was just gonna suggest that we ask Jim what he wants, and I think we have an answer."

"We just leave him here?" Shane asks, looking at Rick. "Take off? Man, I'm not sure I could live with that."

"It's not your call, either one of you," Lori says.

It rings with an air of finality. Shane and Rick head into the RV and only a little while later emerge carrying Jim between them. I haven't seen him since the initial bite discovery and it makes me stifle a gasp. He's drenched in sweat, soaking through his clothes, his skin red from his sunstroke but still undeniably pale underneath. He looks like hell.

Shane and Rick bring him to the treeline and rest him against a thick trunk. The rest of us follow them up there.

"Hey, another damn tree," Jim says, letting out a single, breathy laugh as he stares up at the canopy. He seems to labour for every breath.

"Hey, Jim," Shane says. "I mean, you know it doesn't need to be this."

"No. It's good," Jim replies. His voice is raspy, strained. "The breeze feels nice."

Shane nods once and backs off. Jacqui is the first to step forward, kneeling next to him, and they smile softly at each other.

"Just close your eyes, sweetie," she murmurs. "Don't fight."

She cups his face, kissing his cheek, and her hands tremble when she pulls away from him. She sniffles, wiping her nose as she turns and jogs back down to the road.

Rick is next. "Jim," he says, kneeling next to him. He holds out a small pistol to him. "Do you want this?"

"No," Jim replies. "You'll need it. I'm okay."

Dale steps up and kneels. The men share a look and Dale smiles. "Thanks, uh...thanks for fighting for us," he says.

"Okay."

No one else steps up. I don't think there's anything left to say. I breathe slowly, trying to hold my composure, but it's all hitting me far harder than I thought. It's not just sympathy for Jim, but seeing how upset everyone else is and how brave he's being in the face of all this.

The others move back down to the road, but Daryl doesn't, and I stay by his side. He and Jim lock eyes and Jim purses his lips in a tight, pained smile. Daryl nods to him.

I still can't bring myself to move as Jim's eyes drift to me.

"I'm sorry," I choke out, pressing my fingertips to my lips as they tremble.

Jim shakes his head. "Don't be. I'm going somewhere better than here."

I feel a hand on my arm and Daryl is still there. He gives me a small tug and I let him lead me away, back to the truck. Only once I'm inside do I break, tears rolling down my face in a torrent that I can't stop. I cry onto my lap.

"Hey," Daryl says. I let out a tiny sob and he grips my shoulder, making me look at him. "Hey, don't cry. This is what he wants. He's made his choice."

I try to speak, but no words come out. I don't know how to explain that it's not just another loss, but that I'm scared. I'm scared that that's going to be how I die, alone and in pain with no other future than that of a walking corpse. There's so much I still want to do and the world has shown me, once again, that this new reality is harsher than ever.

"This is how the world is now, Hope. Hell, this world's always been shit," he says. His hand is still on my shoulder, gripping me, grounding me. "You gotta understand that and learn to cope or you ain't gonna make it out there, got it?"

I swallow hard, wipe my tears, and nod. He finally releases me but a part of me wishes he would bring me closer. I could use a hug.

"No more crying. You're stronger than that. You've gotta be."

He starts the truck and our caravan rolls out. I glance back at Jim, sitting on his lonely hill, until he's nothing but a speck behind us. I lean back in the seat and close my eyes.

----------

I doze a bit, on and off, and stare out the window a lot. When we finally get into the city, albeit a part I haven't really been to, it's getting dark. The first thing that hits me is the smell. It's the overpowering stink of rotting flesh and every little bug and bacteria that likes to feast on it.

The road outside the C.D.C. looks like a battlefield and I imagine that it was. There are sandbags stacked up in short walls all over, dead soldiers littering them, and there's blood splattered across the pavement. Signs declaring a military checkpoint point us towards our hopeful safe haven. When we leave the cars, the smell only gets worse, and I gag as I pull my collar over my nose, eyes watering.

Rick and Shane lead the way. Lori and Carol keep the children between them, hand-in-hand, and I stick close to Daryl. We get up to the doors, but they're shuttered and there's no sign of a door handle. Rick rattles the metal shutters but nothing happens.

"Nothing?" Shane asks.

Rick backs up, searching, and Shane slams his fist against the door in rapid succession. Bang! Bang! Bang!

"There's nobody here," T-Dog says.

"Then why are these shutters down?" Rick asks.

Daryl looks over his shoulder and, in an instant, he pushes me behind him. "Walkers!"

Carl and Sophia let out terrified whimpers and their mothers shield them without a second thought. Guns cock, clicking, and Daryl aims his crossbow at the approaching walker. He nails it in the eye and it drops.

Daryl spins around. "You led us into a graveyard!" he shouts, starting towards Rick.

I run to the downed walker and retrieve Daryl's arrow, looking for more walkers as I back up again, the shouting getting more panicked behind me.

"He made a call," Dale retorts.

"It was the wrong damn call!" Daryl snaps.

"Just shut up, you hear me?" Shane growls, jamming his finger into Daryl's chest. "Shut up! Rick, this is a dead end."

"Where are we gonna go?" Carol cries.

"She's right. We can't be here, this close to the city after dark," Lori says.

More guns click. Rick turns back to the doors.

"Fort Benning, Rick—still an option," Shane says.

"On what? No food, no fuel. That's 100 miles," Andrea retorts.

"125. I checked the map," Glenn says.

"Forget Fort Benning. We need answers tonight, now!" Lori says, stomping her foot as Carl clings to her side.

"We'll think of something!" Rick insists.

I make my way back to Daryl as everyone's words dissolve into nothing more than panicked mutters. People start moving back to the cars and I turn as I press my back to Daryl's, the two of us keeping an eye out as the others cry and shout and huddle together. I can see shadowy shapes getting closer, hear the growls, and my heart pounds in my throat.

"Daryl..." I press the arrow to his side and I feel his fingertips brush my hand as he takes it.

"Don't worry," Daryl whispers back to me. "I'm 'ere."

"Alright, let's go. Everybody back to the cars! Let's go. Move!" Shane orders, ushering everyone back.

"The camera—it moved!" Rick calls, stopping us.

"You imagined it," Dale says.

"It moved," Rick repeats. He moves back to the doors, staring up at the tiny white security camera. "It moved."

"Rick, it is dead, man. It's an automated device. It's gears, okay? They're just winding down, now come on—" Shane insists, grabbing Rick's arm.

"Wait—"

"Man, just listen to me! Look around this place! It's dead, okay?" Shane says, almost begging as Rick fights against him. "It's dead. You need to let it go, Rick!"

Rick shoves past him and throws himself against the door, pounding on it again.

"Rick, there's nobody here!" Lori screams.

"I know you're in there. I know you can hear me!" Rick says to the camera.

"Everybody get back to the cars now!" Shane repeats, trying to herd us backwards, but I feel like I'm rooted in place, too scared to move.

"Please, we're desperate. Please help us. We have women, children, no food, hardly any gas left," Rick continues, his voice breaking more and more with every word.

Lori gets in front of him, pushing against his chest. "Rick. There's nobody here!"

"We have nowhere else to go," Rick says, talking over her.

"Keep your eyes open!" Shane says. I can still see those shadows getting closer.

"If you don't let us in, you're killing us!" Rick screams. He pounds on the doors again and Shane returns, hauling him away with everything he has. "PLEASE! Please help us! You're killing us! YOU'RE KILLING US!"

"Rick, stop!"

"You're killing us," Rick sobs as Shane pushes him towards the cars.

Rick takes only a step when there's a clicking sound and, with the heavy screech of something that hasn't moved in far too long, a single panel of shutters slides open, bathing us in a bright white light.