Night.
Bang! Bang!
Two zombies' heads exploded like smashed watermelons, dark red and black gore splattering everywhere.
"How many waves has it been now... This is getting ridiculous." With two precise shots, Shane dropped the last of the zombies that had been creeping toward him along the farm's perimeter.
Switching on his flashlight, he surveyed the carnage—rotting corpses littered the ground nearby, while further out, pairs and trios of decaying figures shambled aimlessly through the fields.
The air was thick with the stench of rot, almost suffocating.
"Damn... not good." Shane pinched his nose and stepped back, sighing. In just one hour, he had already taken out at least three small waves of zombies.
Though the numbers weren't large yet, his instincts told him this was only the beginning. This kind of restless activity was always a precursor to a larger horde. The farm, with its lack of real defenses, wouldn't hold for long.
He cleared out the last few stragglers in minutes, then turned back toward the farmhouse, intent on warning everyone.
Inside, the sound of gunfire had already put everyone on alert. They grabbed their weapons and gathered in the living room.
"What happened? Why the gunshots?" Hershel asked anxiously.
"Relax, Hershel. Rick and Shane are out there—" Dale began, but stopped when the door suddenly swung open.
Shane stepped in, his face grave. "The number of walkers roaming the farm tonight has increased drastically."
The news hit everyone hard. Even Hershel's family looked pale.
Hershel's stubbornness came from fear—the fear of losing his loved ones. His wife had turned, but he couldn't accept it. He'd lied to himself, pretending she was only sick, that she could be cured. But deep down, he had always known the truth.
Now that truth was impossible to ignore. A growing number of walkers meant one thing—the farm was no longer safe.
After Rick returned, they quickly revisited Merle's earlier offer. The idea of joining his camp, which had once sounded reckless, now seemed like the only option.
"Beth, Maggie—start packing," Hershel said heavily. His eyes were downcast, voice trembling. Rising unsteadily, he made his way to his room, weighed down by the pain of abandoning his ancestral home and lifelong beliefs.
"Shane, let's go talk to Merle. Glenn, T, keep watch outside. Everyone else, pack up and bring the vehicles around," Rick ordered swiftly.
Everyone moved at once. They were seasoned survivors by now—veterans in dealing with walkers. They knew what was coming.
Only Carol refused to move.
Tears welled up in her red-rimmed eyes. "Rick, please... just wait a little longer. I haven't found Sophia yet. I can't leave her. Please!"
Her plea froze the room in silence. They all felt the weight of it. Losing Sophia had hurt everyone—but survival came first, and they all knew it.
Carol looked around desperately, voice breaking. "Glenn, Dale... please!"
But no one answered. Their silence was deafening. Despair filled her eyes.
"Carol."
Rick's voice broke the tension. She turned quickly, hope flickering. Maybe—maybe he would help.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "but I can't risk everyone's lives. You can ask Hershel if he's seen a little girl recently. That's all we can do now."
Hershel, who had always believed the walkers were just sick people who could be cured, shook his head sadly. "No... I haven't seen any little girl. Not even among the ones we... captured and kept in the barn."
Hearing that, Carol's last bit of hope vanished. Her strength seemed to drain all at once, and she collapsed to the ground, murmuring endlessly, "No... no... that's impossible... no..." She looked completely broken—like she had lost her mind.
Everyone's expressions darkened, a deep sorrow spreading among them. They all knew the truth: after all this time, Sophia's chances of survival were almost zero.
"...Take Carol with us. We're leaving," Rick said softly.
The loss of Sophia weighed heavily on the group, but survival came first. No matter how painful, they had to move on.
Rick went to speak with Merle, confirming that they were willing to head for his camp—Hershel's family included.
Unlike their frantic flight in the original story, this time they had time to prepare. They packed methodically, taking everything they might need.
With enough vehicles, they prioritized essentials—water, food, and supplies. For Hershel's family, the most precious cargo was their livestock and seeds. Those represented the possibility of rebuilding, of sustainability.
Once everything was loaded, they carefully moved Carl into the RV.
Finally, under Hershel's family's complicated gazes, Merle closed the car door and led the convoy away from the farm.
Not long after leaving, they could already see walkers shambling toward the farm from afar. Relief spread through the group—they had escaped in time. And for the first time in a long while, hope flickered among them as they looked forward to life in the new camp.
Only Carol remained silent, trapped in her grief. She neither cried nor spoke, her eyes empty—like one of the very creatures they fought to survive against.
Within a day's travel, following an abandoned railway, the prison camp came into view.
"This... this is your camp?" Rick asked, astonished. The towering barbed-wire fences, reinforced walls, and elevated watchtowers all spoke of safety—something he hadn't felt in a long time. It was far more secure than the farm could ever have been.
When the military robots cleared the barricade, the vehicles rolled through the gate. The ones guarding the entrance—the four former prisoners—greeted Merle and Daryl with grins as they opened it.
Selene had already informed them that Merle would be bringing newcomers. In a world like this, more allies meant more strength—and more reason to celebrate.
"This is our base," Merle said proudly as he stepped out of the car. Seeing everyone's awe, he smirked and added to Rick, "Come on. The boss wants to meet you."
Rick straightened, frowning slightly. "I haven't asked yet—those robots, are they government issue? And Selene—who exactly is your boss?"
Merle only chuckled, offering no answer. "You'll see soon enough." He gestured for them to follow.
They passed several patrolling robots before reaching the warden's office.
And there—
"Sophia!"
Carol's voice cracked as she screamed the name. She ran forward and threw her arms around a small blonde girl.
It was Sophia—alive and safe.
Selene hadn't forgotten the little girl. If she could change their fates, she would.
Ignoring the emotional reunion between mother and daughter, Selene rose from her seat and stepped forward, arms open. "Welcome to the Prison Camp."
...
At the welcoming feast, Rick and the others were still reeling from the revelation—Selene was the boss Merle had been talking about all along.
The banquet was held in what had once been the inmates' dining hall. The tables were full of food—an impossible sight in the apocalypse. Canned meat, rice, vegetables, bread, drinks... all fresh and plentiful. For the first time in ages, they felt safe, almost normal again.
As Rick ate, Merle's earlier words echoed in his mind: "In this world, you're still too naive."
For a moment, Rick stared blankly at his plate. Maybe he's right, he thought. Maybe I really don't belong in this world anymore.
With that complicated thought lingering, he finished his meal in silence. Later that night, Rick and the others chose their own rooms—or rather, their own cells—to sleep in.