Joe slammed the truck door shut, face set in a hard line. Daryl followed him inside, still gripping his crossbow like it was part of him.
The others were gathered in the common area.
Rick, Glenn, Maggie, Hershel, Michonne, and a few of the newer faces... waiting for news.
Rick stood first. "What happened?"
Joe didn't waste time. "Military chopper went down about ten miles out. We got there first, grabbed what we could from the soldiers…"
He took a breath, scanning the group, letting the weight of his next words sink in. "But we weren't the only ones who found it."
Daryl took over, his voice like gravel. "Whole crew showed up. Not uniforms, just civvies. They were armed... some rifles, a few handguns. Moved like they knew what they were doin'."
"Numbers?" Michonne asked.
"Hard to say," Daryl replied. "Eight, maybe ten. Enough to be a problem."
Joe folded his arms. "From now on, nobody leaves alone. Every scavenging run is in groups of four people. No exceptions. If you see anyone you don't know, you do not engage. You get back here and you let us handle it."
Rick nodded in agreement, his eyes flicking to Carl and Judith in the corner. "Alright. Everyone stay sharp. We can't afford to be blindsided."
The room was tense, a silent understanding passing between them all... peace never lasted long.
...
The forest was quiet now, save for the creak of boots and the low hum of truck engines.
The Governor stood by the wreckage, coat collar turned up against the chill, surveying the scene with cool detachment.
His men moved efficiently, gathering anything useful.
He crouched beside one of the dead soldiers, brushing ash off the man's charred vest.
No rifle. None of them had rifles.
"Strange," he murmured.
A voice with a familiar Southern drawl cut through the quiet. "Ain't that strange when ya think about it."
The Governor looked up as Merle Dixon emerged from the treeline, prosthetic arm glinting in the light.
"What do you mean?" the Governor asked.
Merle smirked, holding up two fingers. "Found tracks headin' back east. Two sets. Heavy boots. My guess? Someone beat us here and stripped the soldiers clean."
The Governor's expression darkened, thoughtful. "Locals?"
"Could be," Merle replied. "Could be trouble."
The Governor stood, brushing off his gloves. "Then we'll keep that in mind. Get the pilot in the truck... alive. He's going to tell us where he was headed, and who else is out here."
Merle grinned. "Now that's what I like to hear."
The Governor glanced once more at the empty, silent forest around them. Then he gave the order, "Mount up. We're going home."
Engines roared to life, and the convoy rolled out, carrying with it a barely-breathing pilot and the knowledge that the world outside.
The area wasn't as empty as they thought.
...
The pilot lay propped up on a cot in a dimly lit room, bandages hastily wrapped around his torso.
His breathing was ragged, eyes darting nervously as the Governor stood over him, calm as ever, hands clasped behind his back.
"You were on your way somewhere," the Governor said softly. "Supplies? Base?"
The pilot coughed, wincing in pain. "Just… ferrying out. Fort Benning's gone. Everything's gone."
The Governor tilted his head. "You see anyone else before you went down? Any survivors?"
The pilot shook his head weakly. "No. Just… the dead."
The Governor studied him for a long moment, then gave a small, tight smile. "You've been very helpful."
Before the pilot could respond, a single suppressed pop filled the room.
The Governor lowered the pistol, wiped the barrel on his sleeve, and turned to leave.
He stepped into the cool evening air, intent on retreating to his private quarters.
The one place he could still pretend to have family. But a voice stopped him.
"Governor."
A wiry Mexican man in a dusty leather vest hurried over, lowering his voice as he approached.
"We picked up a group near the river. Three men and two women. One of the women tried to escape. Probably heading back to whoever she runs with."
The Governor's eyes narrowed, then lit up with a predatory gleam. "Did she see live to tell"
"Nope," the man replied.
The Governor smiled faintly, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes.
"Good. Let's go meet our guests."
...
The day had been quiet.
Glenn and Mary had managed to sweep a half-collapsed convenience store for formula, canned food, and a half empty box of shotgun shells that miraculously hadn't been looted.
They were just stepping into the fading afternoon light when the world exploded into chaos.
"Drop it!" A harsh voice barked.
Glenn barely had time to register the half-circle of armed figures stepping out from behind wrecked cars and snow-dusted rubble.
Pistols, a couple of rifles... all pointed at them. Mary froze, wide-eyed, clutching the bag of formula to her chest.
Glenn raised his hands slowly. "Easy…"
"Drop the bags and kneel."
Glenn froze. Slowly, he raised his hands.
Figures emerged from the shadows on both sides of the street... half a dozen at least.
Faces covered with scarves, weapons glinting in the weak light. Mary's breath caught.
They saw Juliet and the rest of their group already captured.
A man with a greasy ponytail and an assault rifle stepped forward, smirking. "Looks like we caught ourselves some little rabbits."
They were disarmed and forced to their knees. Glenn glanced at Mary, then at Juliet. Her eyes darted to the alley beside them... narrow, but open.
He needed to give her a chance.
"Wait... just let the women go," Glenn said, voice steady but loud enough to draw eyes to him. "Take me if you want, but let them..."
He surged forward suddenly, headbutting the nearest man in the gut and kicking toward the one with the rifle.
The chaos was instantaneous.
"Shit, grab him!" someone yelled.
Juliet ran.
She shot up like a spring, darting down the alley with surprising speed.
"Runner!"
A gun cracked, echoing down the narrow street. Juliet jerked mid-stride and went down hard, skidding across the pavement.
Glenn's stomach dropped.
"No!" he shouted, thrashing against the hands holding him down.
The man with the rifle lowered his weapon casually. "Dumb kid."
Mary sobbed quietly. Glenn tried to catch one last glimpse of Juliet, but she wasn't moving.
They were dragged to their feet, shoved into a waiting van.
As the door slammed shut, none of them saw the small, pained movement in the alley.
Juliet's fingers twitching as she rolled onto her side, blood staining the ground beneath her.
...
Juliet lay on the warm ground, cheek pressed to the dirt, the smell of fresh grass and pollen thick in the air.
Sunlight dappled through the trees above, far too peaceful for what had just happened.
Her breaths came in short, sharp gasps. The bullet had torn through her side.
Fiery pain radiating with each heartbeat, but it hadn't killed her. Not yet.
She stayed motionless, listening to the crunch of boots and the rumble of engines as the hostile group loaded up.
When the sound finally faded into the distance, she rolled onto her back, groaning.
"Move," she whispered to herself, voice hoarse. "Come on, Juliet, get up."
Her fingers dug into the dirt as she forced herself to her knees.
Blood seeped through her shirt, warm and sticky against her skin, but she refused to stop.
She staggered to her feet, leaning heavily on a nearby fence post.
Images of Glenn flashed in her mind... struggling against his captors, Mary screaming as they dragged her away.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and limped forward.
The car sat where they'd left it, half-hidden behind an overgrown hedge.
Each step toward it was agony, her legs trembling with the effort. She stumbled once, caught herself, and kept going.
By the time she reached the door, she was gasping like she'd run for miles.
Her blood-slick hands fumbled with the keys Glenn had tossed her earlier "just in case."
On the third try, the key slid into the ignition.
The engine roared to life. She flinched at the noise, casting one last glance at the road behind her... empty.
"Hold on, Glenn," she murmured, voice barely more than a breath, before slamming her foot on the gas.
The car tore down the cracked asphalt, weaving through tree-lined roads, past abandoned cars overtaken by vines.
She held the wheel in a white-knuckled grip, vision tunneling as she lost more blood.
When the prison finally came into view, relief hit her so hard she nearly blacked out.
She swerved to a stop in front of the gates, the tires screeching.
Carol and T-Dog appeared almost instantly, weapons raised. They froze when they saw her slumped over the wheel.
Joe was there moments later, wrenching the door open. Juliet blinked up at him, face ashen, lips trembling.
"Ambush… Captured... Woodbury…" she rasped, before collapsing into his arms.
Joe caught her gently, his jaw tightening like a vice. He carried her, running through the front gate.
"Get Hershel. Now," he barked, voice cutting through the air like a blade.
The others crowded around as he carried her inside, rushing through the halls to the infirmary.
Blood soaked his shirt in a spreading crimson bloom, hot and slick.
"What the hell happened?" Daryl growled.
Joe's eyes were hard as steel. "We've got a problem. And Glenn's part of it."
...
"Out," Joe barked, voice sharp as a blade.
The few people lingering inside after following him, froze at the tone. "Everyone out, now!"
There was no hesitation... they scattered.
Joe laid Juliet on the nearest bed, his hands already moving. He grabbed the scissors from the tray and ripped open her shirt in one motion.
His stomach clenched at the sight of the wound, clean through her side. It was high enough to worry, the blood pumping too freely.
"Shit… too much blood to be simple ," he muttered under his breath.
The door slammed open again, Hershel hurrying in with his medical bag, Carol and Anna on his heels.
Joe stepped aside immediately, forcing himself to take a breath and unclench his fists.
"Through-and-through," he said quickly. "But she's bleeding like hell. Might've nicked something inside."
Hershel gave a single nod, already setting out tools. "Get me rags, hot water, alcohol."
Carol rushed to the cabinets, Anna heading to the sink. Hershel's hands were steady as he probed the wound with gloved fingers, Juliet jerking weakly under his touch.
"Stay with me, sweetheart," Hershel murmured, voice calm, soothing even as he worked fast.
Joe backed against the wall, eyes locked on Juliet. He couldn't stand still, his jaw flexed.
Another group dared to touch one of his own. 'Unforgivable!'
His boots scuffing against the tile as he shifted his weight, watching every move Hershel made.
Carol returned, pressing rags into Hershel's hand. He packed them against the wound, nodding to Anna to hold pressure.
"She's lucky," he said, glancing up briefly. "Missed her lung, missed her liver. But she's lost a lot of blood. She'll need rest, and we'll need to watch for infection."
Joe let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Hershel's voice hardened. "What happened out there?"
Joe's eyes were like cold steel when they met his. "Glenns group must have been ambushed. They were taken captive. She mentioned a place called Woodbury."
Carol froze, the bloodied rag in her hands trembling. Anna's eyes widened.
Hershel didn't look up from his work. "Then we'll make sure she lives to tell us where they are."
Joe nodded once, grimly. "And then we're gonna burn whoever did this to the ground."
...
They were dragged into a stark room lit by a single hanging bulb.
The Governor walked in as casually as if he were about to sit down to dinner, his smile cold and deliberate.
"New faces," he said smoothly, circling them. "And you're gonna tell me everything I want to know. Where's your camp?"
As if at his cue, they heard the other women screaming, and begging.
Glenn stayed silent, jaw clenched. Mary glared at him defiantly.
The Governor's smile tightened. He gestured, and two men hauled Mary to her feet. "You'll talk, or she'll suffer."
Mary spat in his face.
The Governor wiped his cheek, chuckled, and leaned in close. "Brave. I like that." Then he shoved her toward the bed in the corner.
Glenn strained against his bindings, shouting, "Leave her the fuck alone!"
The Governor didn't even look at him as he ripped at Mary's coat.
Glenn thrashed violently, chair legs scraping the floor, but the men behind him pinned him down. Mary's screams tore through the room.
When it was over, the Governor calmly drew his pistol and placed it against Mary's temple.
"This is on you."
The shot echoed like a thunderclap. Glenn's world turned white-hot with rage and horror.
"You son of a..."
The butt of a rifle slammed into the back of his skull.
Darkness swallowed him.
...
When Glenn awoke, his head was pounding, blood crusting in his hair.
He was tied to a chair in a small, dark room. The door creaked open, and a single walker stumbled in, snarling, its lips torn away.
The door swung shut behind it.
Glenn's breath hitched. He yanked at the ropes, the wood of the chair groaning. The walker staggered closer, moaning hungrily.
"Come on, come on, COME ON!" Glenn shouted, adrenaline flooding his veins.
He threw his entire body weight forward. The chair splintered, sending him crashing to the floor.
The walker lunged. Glenn rolled, grabbing a jagged piece of the broken chair. He jammed it upward through the walker's skull with a primal roar.
The corpse twitched once, then fell still. Glenn collapsed against the wall, panting, tears streaming silently down his face.
Mary was gone. But he was still alive... and now he had to get out. Get back to the group and then come back full force.
He wouldn't be satisfied until he personally put a bullet in the Governor's skull.