We were back on the horses, the town shrinking behind us, a husk of broken windows and leaning signs, nothing worth remembering except the moment and the bags strapped to our saddles, filled with everything useful the store held.
"Who was it?" I asked, my eyes still on the road ahead.
Alicia's head tilted, confusion plain across her face. "What?" she asked, tightening her grip on the reins.
"The pills."
It clicked instantly for her. Her brows smoothed out as she mumbled, trying to recall the name. "What's her name… Lori. Yeah, Lori asked me to find some," she finally answered.
I nodded, not like I cared who was fucking who in Rick's group, but it was nice to know the things were following canon events.
"Why?"
Alicia turned her head toward me, her expression softening into intrigue, like she'd caught something in my tone. "Were you worried it was Lilly or Carley?" she teased, a little laugh slipping out.
I shook my head, dismissing the thought even though it had coiled my heart in a strange tightness.
Kids…?
I shook my head again, sharper this time. That wasn't for me.
—Greene's Farm
The afternoon light stretched long shadows across the camp as Rick's group finally settled in. Rick and Lori disappeared into Carl's room, while others lingered in the makeshift shelter on Greene's property.
Inside one of them, Andrea sat cross-legged, trying to busy herself with the strap of her holster, while Amy leaned against the canvas beside her.
"What happened with you two? Did he do something?" Amy asked suddenly, her voice low but direct.
Andrea's hands stilled, her brows knit together. "Who?" she asked, knowing well who Amy was talking about.
"Wesker."
The name hit harder than it should have, bringing embarrassing memories to the surface, making her almost choke on the breath she was holding before forcing a quick shake of her head, too quick.
"Why?" she asked, though the sharpness in her tone gave away the anxiety in her mind.
Amy tilted her head, studying her sister like only a sibling could. "Nothing. Just… you were avoiding him at breakfast, and then he wouldn't leave you alone when we were handing over the guns."
Andrea swallowed, throat tight. The weight of Amy's gaze felt heavy. Damn it, she can always read me like a book.
"Maybe he's just an ass," Andrea forced out, faking a chuckle that came out thin.
Amy squinted at her, suspicion clear, but finally sighed and let it drop—for now. Silence pressed between them.
Then, it was quickly broken.
"By the way…" Amy muttered.
Andrea turned her head, bracing herself. "Hmm?"
"Did you really lose the gun?"
Andrea's face hardened, the question stinging sharper than expected, the slight frown deepened at the implication, especially because it came from her sister.
Amy raised her hands slightly, shaking her head. "I didn't mean it like that. I just… it was Dad's. Can't we like… go back and get it?"
Andrea exhaled through her nose, disappointment lacing the sound more than anger. "It's too risky. We barely made it out the first time."
Amy let out a long breath of her own and slumped against Andrea, resting her head on her sister's shoulder. For a moment, her voice softened, almost childlike.
"I wish we could go back to fishing with Dad, just the three of us."
Andrea closed her eyes at that, her chest tightening, and lifted a hand to cover Amy's. "Yeah," she whispered. "Me too."
Outside, Glenn sat perched on the RV roof beside Dale, binoculars resting against his chest. The quiet stretched, only the sound of cicadas and the distant clatter of someone moving broke the stillness.
"You like that girl?" Dale asked suddenly, his tone casual, but the glance he gave Glenn was anything but.
Glenn stiffened, his throat dry. He hesitated long enough to make the silence awkward before finally muttering. "Maybe."
Dale let out a slow breath through his nose, the lines in his weathered face deepening. "Just… be careful with that fella, hmm?"
Glenn looked at him, brows furrowing.
"I know you know him, but…" Dale muttered, but he just couldn't help but feel an unease at the back of his head; there was something off about Wesker, the expressionless face, the dull voice lacking concern, shepherding the flock to a pasture that only feeds him.
Glenn couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "Don't worry, old man. He's not as bad as he looks." He tried to keep it light, though he wasn't entirely sure of his own words.
Away from the RV, Shawn went through the camp with deliberate quiet, hauling a duffel from the tents toward his truck. His eyes darted around, scanning the camp to make sure no one noticed. He dropped the bag into the truck bed with a thud and froze when a gravelly voice broke the air.
"What're you doin'?"
Shawn turned too quickly, shoulders tensing. Dary stood behind him, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"Nothing," Shawn said, his tone too defensive, making Daryl squint his eyes. He straightened, body angled as if to shield what he'd just stashed. "What is it?"
Daryl sighed, his eyes uncaring as he stepped forward, boots crunching the dirt. "You really think handin' over our guns is the best play?"
Shawn slammed the truck door with more force than necessary, trying to cover his nerves. "What else can we do? We're guests, right…" he chewed the inside of his cheek.
Daryl leaned against the hood, gaze drifting toward the farmhouse. He spat to the side, his voice flat. "We oughta to do something."
Shawn turned to him, "What?"
Daryl stayed silent for a moment before opening his mouth, but when he was about to speak, his eyes snapped toward the road.
"He's back."
Shawn followed his eyes and saw two horses approaching from the road. Wesker rode in front, his face unreadable as always, duffel bags tied to the saddles. Behind him, the new girl kept close, her shoulder hunched, thinking about something deeply.
.
.
.
****
Read +3 or +7 chapters ahead on my Pat*eon
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