"Oh, my God. Go! Go, go, go, go," Rick whispers out in a hurry. He puts his hands on Carl's and my shoulders, pushing us along. 

I was right. There was a loud noise howling in the wind, and that noise was the snarling of about a million walkers stumbling their way through the field. Rick keeps hold of my arm and Carl's hood, and he keeps us running until we all crouch down behind a tree. 

"We- we gotta get to the house, tell the others," Carl says quickly, looking out at the herd of walkers. 

"We'll never get through that," Rick denies the idea, shaking his head. "Can't go around."

But what about my dad? What if he's out there with Glenn and he doesn't have a clue that any of this is going on? What if a walker sneaks up behind him and takes a bite of his neck? What if he'll be gone for good? And what about everyone else? What will happen to them if we don't warn them? 

"But, Rick-"

"Shh. To the barn. Stay close. Go!" Rick whispers, pushing me and Carl to our feet. He keeps hold of the backs of our shirts as we run to the barn. It's not too far away, but the walkers are close. They hiss and claw at us as we pass by them, but we're faster than they are. We're much faster than them and they can't catch us. Not yet, at least.

My dad is gonna be so mad when he finds out me and Carl left the house. 

No, no, no. That doesn't matter right now. All that matters is that we make it out alive. So I try to focus on getting to the barn instead. One step, two steps, three steps, four steps, five steps- I stumble, tripping over my own feet and tumbling into the dirt. I catch myself with my hands and Rick pulls me back up, pushing, pushing, pushing until we're in the barn and he pulls the giant barn doors shut. 

Me and Carl work together to hold the door shut until Rick manages to lock them with a metal bar sliding between the door handles. Walkers bang at the door. They know we're in here and they want to tear us apart, limb by limb, bone by bone. They claw at the walls, nails scraping against the wood. They'll tear this place down to get to us.

I don't know how we're going to keep living after this. I don't know if we'll ever find another safe place to be or if there will ever be a point in all this. It feels pretty useless right now, seeing how many walkers there are just right here on this farm. It makes me worry about just how many walkers there are all over the rest of the world. There are more walkers than there are living people now, I'm sure. That makes me feel awful, thinking about that. 

What will we even do if we get out of here? Nothing is gonna go back to how it was. I'll never go to school again and I'll never get to visit my momma again. I'll never go to the park or play outside again. Because from this moment on, the world is dead. The world is dead and it's not coming back to life. Not in my lifetime, at least. 

I can't think about that. Thinking about that makes this all seem pointless, but there is a point. The point is to get back to my dad. I'll find my dad. That's all that matters. Get out of the barn and find Dad. 

"What do we do? Rick, what do we do?!" I ask, my voice high and squeaky. I've been afraid plenty of times in my life. I was afraid at camp, when those two walkers were chasing after me, and I was afraid at the CDC, and I was afraid on the highway. But there are even more walkers here, right now, than there ever were on the highway, and they can smell us. They know we're in here and they want to kill us, turn us into one of them. Hundreds of 'em. Heck, maybe even thousands. 

"Here," Rick says. His voice is quiet and quick, and he has an idea. I can see it on his face, in his eyes. Those eyes are darting all over the barn. He spots a can in the corner, and without a moment of hesitation, he darts for it, picking it up like it weighs nothing. He starts pouring whatever's in the can all around the barn. Gasoline. It's gasoline.

My eyes dart all over, too, and I spot two more cans of gasoline, tucked away next to a wall. I rush over there and reach for one of the cans. A walker's hand sticks itself through a space between two boards, and it grabs onto my wrist. I shriek in fear, trying to pry the walker's hand off of me. Carl kicks at the walker's hand until its wrist snaps, and I'm free. 

"You ok? Did it scratch you?" Carl asks quickly, his eyebrows raised. 

"I'm ok," I assure him, picking up my can of gas. He nods and picks up his can of gas, too.

Following Rick's lead, we start drizzling gasoline all over the floors and walls. A barn seems like it ought to be the most flammable thing in the world. There's hay all over, which is just dead, dry grass, and the walls are made of old wood. It hasn't rained recently, either, so all that wood is dry and just ready to start burning. With the help of gasoline and a lighter, this place will be cooked. Thing is, I still don't know why we're burning it. Wouldn't the fire just attract more walkers?

"What are we doin', Rick?" I ask, my eyebrows pinched together. His can is empty. He's digging around in his pockets. 

"We'll draw the walkers here with the fire, give everyone else a chance to escape. We'll find a way out," Rick explains quickly. That plan sounds incomplete, but it's the only one we've got right now, so I guess I don't have any other choice but to follow it. Plus, I like the part that makes it so everyone else can escape. At least if we don't make it out, everyone else is still able to. "Alright. Up there. Hurry," Rick says, ushering me and Carl up a ladder. 

I haven't been in the barn before. It makes me think of Sophia, stumbling around lifelessly within these walls. And it makes me think of a gun pointed right at Randall's head, and that gun is in Rick's hands, and my dad is watching off to the side like it doesn't even matter. Our eyes are cold and our hearts are, too. I try to ignore it. 

"What about you?!" Carl asks his dad as I start crawling up this ladder. It goes up to the loft, I'm pretty sure, but I don't know what we're gonna do up there. 

"I'll be right there," Rick says. I stop on the ladder, turning back to wait for Carl and hear the rest of the plan. Rick reveals a lighter in his hand. He gives it to Carl. "Drop the lighter when I say. We'll stop some of them from reaching the house and distract the others, so at least we'll have a chance," he explains, his hand on Carl's shoulder. 

Carl shakes his head, his breath shaky.

"Hey, hey, hey. Look at me," Rick says, kneeling down in front of him. He gives Carl's shoulder one of those squeezes that are supposed to be reassuring. Thing is, a little shoulder squeeze doesn't ensure anyone's safety. It doesn't promise Carl that his dad is gonna make it out of this alive, or that any of this is even gonna work. But Rick squeezes Carl's shoulder anyway, because even if it doesn't promise anything, it still means something. "You can do this. Carl, I love you," Rick says to his son. 

I wish my dad was here. I don't know if I'll ever see him again. Even if we all make it out, will we ever be able to find each other again? 

"Alright, go, go, go," Rick says, looking at Carl and then at me. Carl nods and we resume our climb up to the loft. 

As soon as we get to the top, Rick starts slamming on the barn doors, screaming and calling to the walkers. He wants them here, now. He wants them to chase after him. He wants to lure them into their deaths. He taunts them, screaming louder than I've ever heard him scream before. And then he opens the door and leads them to the center of the barn. Right where we need them. Then, finally, thank goodness, he starts climbing up the ladder, just out of the walkers' reach. 

"Carl, now!" Rick screams. 

And Carl flicks open the lighter, he looks at me, and then down at the walkers. And then he drops the little flame down, down, down into the hay. Flames erupt around the walkers, and a wave of heat washes over us as we watch the flames spread to their clothes, hair, and skin. It makes me feel sick. I tap my thumb to each of my fingers; pointer, middle, ring, pinky, ring, middle, pointer, and repeat. 

It doesn't take long for the flames to spread to the walls, and soon the whole barn is burning. We're still inside. I can hear gunshots echoing outside. They must be fighting back. 

I can't stand to look at those walkers no more, so I turn away. Soon, Rick and Carl are turning away, too. Rick and Carl each have their own guns, and they start shooting walkers. I'm weak and useless and I don't have no weapons, so I just keep looking outside, waving my arms around, trying to get someone's attention. 

I can see them all. They're driving around in the cars, shooting as many walkers as they can. And I see my dad's motorcycle, too, which means that he's ok. Thank goodness, he's ok. He's ok. There's a little light on his motorcycle and I keep my eyes glued to it. He rides up next to the RV, and soon, the RV is heading straight for the barn- for us.

"Look! Rick, they're comin' for us!" I tell Rick, hitting his arm to get his attention. 

And now all three of us are screaming, "Over here! Over here!"

We might as well be the luckiest three people in the world because, somehow, over the wailing walkers and burning barn, whoever is driving the RV manages to hear us. They drive right up close to the edge of the loft, knocking over walkers like bowling pins along the way. 

"Come on! I'll help you!" Rick shouts. He jumps across to the roof of the RV easily. Carl goes next, holding onto his dad's hand. And then they both look back at me, reaching out for my hands. I feel downright terrified, but I grab onto their hands and jump, anyway. And they pull me across, onto the RV. 

Just as I plant my feet on the roof, I hear this horrible, gut-wrenching scream coming from below us. Wailing, crying, screaming, groaning. "No! No-o-o-o!"

That's Jimmy's voice, I think. Beth's boyfriend. He was driving that RV and he saved our lives, and now he's inside, being torn apart by walkers. I can hear him. It makes me dizzy, just thinking about it. It makes me feel like none of this is real. Like I'm not Juniper Jo Dixon and Juniper Jo Dixon is just an empty body, and I'm something else, somewhere else. It makes my breaths feel heavier and thicker and it makes my eyes feel like lead. 

"June! Come on! Down!" Rick says to me, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me to the edge of the RV. He climbs down the ladder and starts shooting down the nearby walkers. Me and Carl climb down next, keeping behind him. Walkers from inside the barn reach for us, but they're stuck and they can't get to us. Not yet, at least. "Alright, go, go, go," Rick says, leading us away from the RV. 

Jimmy's still screaming. Blood splatters the windows. He's being torn apart right this very moment. My eyes still feel like lead, but I still force them to move around, searching for that little light at the front of my dad's motorcycle. I can't see it. 

"June! Listen, honey, I know you're scared, but you need to listen to me," Rick says quickly. He's frustrated with me. I can tell. But it's only because he's panicked, I think. I don't know. It's hard to think about anything right now. 

"My dad," I manage to murmur out, my eyes still searching for that little light. 

"This way!" Rick shouts. He pulls me again and I don't have any choice but to run along with him and Carl. Walkers are still after us, inches away from grabbing onto our arms and tearing us to pieces, just like poor Jimmy. But my eyes are still looking for Dad. "Go! Head to the woods! Now! Fast as you can! Come on!"

"My dad," I say again, letting my running slow in order to look around for that little light once more before disappearing into the woods and losing sight of him for good.

"Juniper! Now!" Rick yells at me, squeezing my arm tightly as we run into the woods. 

My dad, my dad, my dad, my dad. That's all I can think. I want my dad. I couldn't find the light on his motorcycle. I couldn't see him. Why couldn't I find him?

"Come on! We go around, get a car, and get out of here! We'll find your dad when we're safe. Let's go!" Rick tells me. He won't stop pulling. I can't even think. It's too much all at once and I need my dad, but he's not here. He's on his motorcycle, with his little light, and he's not here. He's not here. "Come on!" 

Walkers are getting closer, and I feel dizzy, but I keep running with Rick because he doesn't give me any choice. He'll drag me if he has to. He won't let go of my arm, and he just keeps running, Carl by his side, and I just keep my feet moving. I can't do anything else but keep my feet moving. I keep my lead eyes closed and keep my feet moving. I don't know if I've ever felt like this before. I don't even know how to describe it. I just feel different. Everything does. My eyes do, my breaths do, my chest does, my brain does. My fingers are tingly, like static. 

"Get in the car!" Rick screams. He finally lets go of my arm, only to grab onto the back of Hershel's shirt. Hershel is standing tall, shooting, shooting, shooting walkers. He won't back down, but just like me, Rick doesn't give him a choice. "Hershel! Come on!"

"Get in the car, June! Come on!" Carl says, swinging open the car door and shoving me inside. 

There's a lump in my throat now. I get in the back seat of this truck I've never been in before and I stand on my knees, looking out the window for that little light. I just can't see it. 

Rick starts the engine on the car and he starts driving away. I turn around in my seat, looking out the back window. The only light I can see is the one coming from the burning barn. Its walls are down and all that's left is its broken skeleton, hardly still standing. It sways, back and forth, until its skeleton falls, too, and all that's left are the orange flames. 

I can't see nobody. Not Glenn, not Maggie, not Beth, and not the doll that she gave to me. Maybe they're all gone. Maybe all of them got bit or torn apart like Jimmy did. 

Carl puts his hand on my shoulder. "Your dad has his bike. I'm sure he's ok. We'll find him and my mom on the highway. I know we will," he says. Carl doesn't know that, though. He just hopes it. And hope isn't making that feeling go away. That feeling that makes me feel like something else. 

I watch the flames until they're just a little dot in the distance, and I think about everything that happened in that barn. I think about Sophia and I think about Randall, and I think that maybe burning that barn was a good thing. I think that maybe burning that barn burned away all the bad things that happened inside of it, and I think that maybe we can try to move on. 

Maybe we'll find somewhere safer. We'll find a new home to stay in for the winter. A new place to be safe. But only if we find our people again. Only if we find Dad because, if we don't find him, I don't know if it will be worth it. Because if we don't find him, I might feel this way forever. My hands will tingle like static and my eyes will feel like lead, and my body won't feel like mine. 

Finally, once the barn is out of sight, I sit down in my seat and lean back. I press my finger against the window. The glass is cold. My finger leaves a mark. I drag my sleeve across my window until that mark is gone, but it leaves streaks, so I keep dragging my sleeve across the window over and over until it's all gone. But the streaks stay. I close my eyes and try not to look at it. I shouldn't have touched the window in the first place. Now there are marks on it. 

That's not important. My dad is important. Everyone we're gonna find is important. I want my dad.