Maggie and Sasha walked in silence until the horizon burned with the first light of morning.
They stopped, watching the sun push up through the trees.
They sat without speaking. Maggie slipped an arm around Sasha, pulling her close.
That was all it took. Sasha broke, burying her face against Maggie's chest. Her sobs were raw, spilling out everything she'd been holding in.
The grief, the rage, the weight of loss.
When her breathing finally steadied, she whispered, "Tyreese died to save Noah."
Maggie nodded, quiet, steady.
"I talked to Noah," Sasha went on. "He said he didn't know if he could make it. That's how I feel."
Maggie squeezed her shoulder. "We're gonna make it. That's the hard part."
A few more tears slipped free. Sasha managed a shaky smile. "Thank you."
Maggie smiled back. "No problem. Come on, let's head back."
They were just starting to stand when a branch snapped. Both froze.
A man stepped into view, hands raised. Maggie drew her Glock, Sasha raised her knife.
"Hey... sorry," the man said quickly. "I didn't mean to startle you. Good morning. My name's Aaron."
They didn't answer, weapons still fixed on him.
"I get it. Stranger danger," Aaron said, voice calm, almost rehearsed. "But I'm a friend."
Maggie and Sasha exchanged a look. Their grip on their weapons didn't waver.
Aaron glanced between them, then said carefully, "I'd like to talk to the man in charge. Joe, right?"
Sasha stiffened. "How do you..."
"Why?" Maggie cut in.
Aaron's eyes softened. "Because I have good news."
Sasha's tone sharpened. "Let's hear it."
Aaron slid his pack from his shoulder. "I'm part of a community. We've got walls, guards. You'd be safe there."
Maggie's voice was cold. "We've heard that before."
"Didn't end the way they promised," Sasha added.
Aaron nodded, patient. "I know. You don't trust me. But I have pictures. Take a look."
He held them out. Maggie hesitated, then lowered her gun just enough to snatch the photos.
She and Sasha studied them in silence. The longer they looked, the less either could deny the pull of what they saw.
Finally, Maggie exhaled. "Let's take him to the barn."
...
They led Aaron back to the barn. As they walked, he kept talking, telling them about his community.
When they stepped inside, Maggie called out, "Hey, everyone. This is Aaron."
Heads turned. Weapons came up.
"It's okay," Maggie said quickly. "He's a friend."
The word hung heavy. People stared, eyes wide, guns still trained.
Joe rose slowly, the barn creaking under his boots. Daryl bolted out the door without a word, Kenny and Lee following him to sweep the area.
Maggie added, "He's alone. We took his weapons and gear."
Rick grabbed Aaron and patted him down roughly before giving Joe a small nod.
Joe moved closer. His scarred face caught the lantern light, his eyes cold and sharp. "What do you want?"
Aaron looked up at him, then around at the others, the weight of their stares pressing on him. He swallowed hard.
"Hi…"
A baby cried sharply. Grace. Joe turned his head briefly, watching Andrea hush her back into quiet whimpers.
Aaron tried again, softer. "It's nice to meet you." He stepped forward, hand half-raised for a shake... only to freeze when half a dozen guns cocked in response.
Joe's voice cut in. "You said he had a weapon."
Maggie pulled a small revolver from her pocket and handed it to him.
Aaron's voice was steady, though his eyes darted. "I have a camp. Nearby. I want to bring you in."
Sasha said gruffly, "He wants us to audition for membership."
Joe chuckled, dry and humorless. "What is this, a musical?" A couple people snorted, the laughter short and uneasy.
Aaron shook his head. "I hate that word. 'Audition' makes it sound like we're a dance troupe."
Carol cut in flatly. "It does."
Aaron tried a smile. "Only on Friday nights." Silence. Nobody laughed. He coughed, shifting.
"It's not just a camp. It's a community. A real one. I think you'd make valuable additions. But it's not my call. My job is to convince you to come back with me."
Nobody spoke. Everyone looked to Joe.
Aaron pressed on. "If I were you, I wouldn't trust me either. Not just on words. That's why I brought pictures."
Maggie said, "He showed us." Sasha pulled Aaron's pack from the ground and set it at Joe's feet.
Aaron nodded. "Front pocket. Yellow envelope."
Joe opened the pack and pulled the envelope free. He flipped through the photos without changing expression.
"There's no way I could convince you just by talking," Aaron said. "That's why I brought those. Sorry about the picture quality..."
"We don't give a shit," Daryl snapped.
Aaron swallowed. "…Did you see the walls? Steel panels, fifteen feet high. Reinforced with I-beams. Nothing gets in without our say-so. Security is everything."
The group leaned forward, eyes drawn to the photos. The thought of real walls was enough to spark something.
A flicker of belief.
"And we believe the most important resource isn't food or weapons," Aaron added carefully. "It's people. Together we're strong. With you, we'd be stronger."
Joe didn't answer. He walked over and drove his fist into Aaron's face. Aaron collapsed, out cold in one blow.
"Joe!" Maggie shouted. "Was that necessary?"
He shot her a look. She fell silent.
Glenn and Tara rushed to Aaron, checking him over. Amy knelt, gathering the scattered pictures. She studied them before passing them to Andrea, then Beth and Emma.
Andrea said, "He doesn't seem like a bad guy." The other women nodded slowly.
Rick's voice was hard. "Terminus didn't seem bad at first either."
That ended the conversation.
Joe said, "Search his pack."
Daryl dumped the contents: food, water, and a flare gun.
Joe's face darkened.
The group waited in tense silence for Aaron to wake.
Michonne dipped a cloth in water and pressed it to his head until his eyes blinked open.
Aaron groaned, then gave Joe a crooked smile. "That's a hell of a right cross."
Joe stood over him. "How many of your people are out there?"
Aaron hesitated.
Joe's voice dropped, dangerous. "That flare gun's for signaling. So how many?"
Aaron exhaled. "Does it matter? No matter what number I say, you won't believe me. Eight. Thirty. Zero. You'll still think I'm lying."
Joe scowled. "Hard to trust a man who smiles after being punched in the face."
Aaron answered softly, "How about one who left water for you on the road?"
The barn shifted again. Everyone exchanged looks.
Daryl's tone was sharp. "How long have you been following us?"
Aaron met his stare. "Long enough to know you ignore a pack of walkers on your tail. Long enough to see that despite a lack of food and water, you never turned on each other.Youre survivors, but also people. Like I said, and I hope you dont punch me again. That is the most important resource."
Silence.
Joe stepped closer, looming. "How many?"
Aaron said quietly, "One. Just him and me."
Joe studied him, unreadable.
Aaron sighed. "I knew you wouldn't buy it. So what would it take? If it's not words or pictures…"
His eyes widened at a thought, "Let me take you there. We leave now, we're there by lunch."
Joe's reply was ice. "Not all of us are fitting in your car."
Aaron answered, "We brought two vehicles. If we found a group, we wanted to be able to bring everyone back. It'll be tight, but it'll work."
Rick asked, "Where?"
Aaron nodded. "Down the road. Just past Route Sixteen. The storm blocked it, we couldn't clear it. Otherwise I'd have come closer."
Joe said, "Yeah. You really thought this through."
Aaron said, "If I wanted to ambush you, I'd do it here. Light the barn on fire. Pick you off as you ran out the exit... You can trust me."
Joe shook his head, "No, I cant."
Michonne cut in. "I'll go check the cars."
Rick grabbed her arm. "There are no cars."
She pulled free. "Then I'll prove it."
Maggie stepped up, Beth and Amy close behind. "Joe… we need this. We need somewhere to stop running."
Andrea added, "And if it's a trap... We can handle it."
Joe looked at them, his wives' faces lit with a rare hope. He sighed heavily.
"Fine."
He raised his voice. "Michonne. Abraham. Rosita. Glenn. Tara. Check it out."
They nodded.
Joe's voice hardened. "If you're not back in sixty minutes, we come for you."
The five moved out. Rick called after them, grim. "Be careful. This might be exactly what they want."
The barn door shut, leaving the rest in silence.
...
Joe said, "The rest of us need to spread out. We're too bunched up in here. Stay within eyeshot, keep a lookout."
He and his wives stayed behind with the toddlers. Rick and Carl stepped just outside the door, taking up guard.
Joe pulled the door shut. Inside, his wives sat together on a blanket, whispering softly to each other.
Aaron watched him for a long moment before speaking. "When the world was still the world… I worked for an NGO. We delivered food and safe drinking water to the Niger River Delta. Bad people pointed guns at me every other week."
He paused, searching Joe's face. "But you're not bad people. You're not going to kill us. And we sure as hell aren't going to kill you."
Joe turned from the door and fixed him with a cold look. "Just because we're good people doesn't mean we won't kill you. If my people aren't back in an hour, I'm gonna stab you in the base of your skull."
Aaron's mouth closed. The barn fell silent again.
...
The scouting group moved swiftly through the woods, slipping back onto the cracked road.
They kept their weapons raised, eyes darting over every shadow.
Michonne broke the silence. "So if we see someone... do we shoot them?"
Tara frowned. "That's a good question."
Glenn stayed quiet, scanning the treeline.
Michonne pressed. "What if it's someone like us? What if Aaron's telling the truth?"
Finally Glenn spoke. "We're five armed strangers. Nobody's walking up to say hello."
Michonne's eyes narrowed. "And if they do?"
Glenn shook his head. "Then we should be more afraid of them. Aaron said he was watching us. After everything we've done… why would anyone want us around?"
Michonne didn't blink. "Because people like us saved Father Gabriel. People like us still care about each other. That's what Aaron saw."
Tara and Rosita nodded, though Glenn didn't answer. His silence hung heavy.
Unseen, a figure crouched behind an old tractor in a field just off the road. Eric.
Binoculars pressed to his face, following every step of the group.
His stomach churned with worry. He hadn't seen Aaron return. Hadn't seen the signal.
He had no idea what these strangers had done with him.
So he made a choice. He left the cover of the tractor and began to follow them.
...
Joe sat with Judith in his arms, her cries soft but insistent. The other toddlers joined in, wailing with hunger.
He grabbed a bowl and poured in some walnuts they'd foraged, grinding them with a length of iron.
Across the barn, Aaron spoke up. "You saw the jar of applesauce in my pack, right?"
Joe didn't even look at him.
Aaron tried again. "This isn't a trick. Trust me."
Joe stood and walked over to the wooden crate where the jar sat. He twisted it open. Aaron let out a quiet breath of relief.
Joe dipped in a spoonful, crossed the floor, and shoved it toward Aaron's mouth. "You first."
Aaron blinked. "You think I'd try to poison your kids."
"I don't know," Joe said flatly. "And I'm not gonna risk it."
Aaron stared at him. "I'm tied up. You already said you'd kill me if you had to. How would poisoning babies help me?"
Joe's voice rose, sharp. "Eat it. Now."
Aaron hesitated, then said quietly, "I hate applesauce. My mother used to force food on me, told me it would make me more manly. She was a cruel women. I only brought that jar to prove we have apple trees."
Joe's jaw tightened. "I don't need your life story. You say it's safe... prove it."
Aaron looked at the crying children, then opened his mouth. Joe forced the spoon between his lips.
Aaron swallowed.
Joe nodded once. "Thank you."
Aaron stiffened at the words, almost shocked, but gave a small nod back.
Joe turned away and fed Judith. She quieted almost instantly, the crying of the others dying down as bowls were passed around. One by one, the barn settled into rare calm.
Aaron's voice broke the silence. "Our community's big enough. We could give you a place where even if they cry, no walker would hear."
The women turned toward him, then back at Joe.
Joe stared a moment, then said coldly, "You've got forty minutes."
Aaron froze, then exhaled and lowered his head.
...
Glenn's group followed the cracked road in silence until they reached the blockade.
A massive spruce had toppled across the asphalt, trunk thick as a wall. No way through on foot with vehicles.
Just beyond it sat an SUV and an RV, parked nose-to-tail. Enough to move the whole group.
Michonne's eyes narrowed. "Aaron was telling the truth."
Tara nodded. "Yeah."
They climbed over the fallen tree and moved to inspect the vehicles.
A sharp snap echoed from the treeline.
Guns came up instantly. Glenn shouted, "Not one step closer, asshole!"
The woods groaned in reply. Not a man, walkers.
They lurched into view, branches breaking under their weight. Abraham strode forward and drove his knife into the first skull.
Rosita finished the second with a clean machete swing.
The woods fell still again.
"Clear," Abraham grunted.
The group swept the RV and SUV. A handful of canned goods. A few jars of applesauce. Nothing else.
Abraham slung a coil of rope off the RV wall. "This'll do."
He lashed one end to the RV bumper and the other to the trunk of the fallen oak. "Glenn, move the SUV."
Glenn shifted it clear while Abraham climbed into the RV. He slammed it in reverse, tires straining.
The rope groaned. The tree shuddered, then shifted, dragged just far enough to clear a path.
It wasn't clean, but it would do.
They piled into the vehicles. Michonne took the SUV's wheel, Abraham behind the RV's. Engines rumbled to life.
By the time they rolled back into view of the barn, the sixty minutes were nearly up.
Aaron let out a shaky breath of relief when they walked through the door.