Rick stood beside Dale at the Rv, eyes sweeping the tree line.
The old man cradled his rifle in the crook of his arm, his face as watchful as ever.
"Stay sharp," Rick muttered. "Two walkers in two days. That's no coincidence."
Dale's gaze didn't waver. "You think they're moving out of the city?"
Rick nodded, jaw clenched. "Yeah. Looking for fresh meat."
A silence fell between them as Rick's eyes scanned the camp.
It had seemed so safe when they first arrived.
Natural barriers. Plenty of water.
But now? He could feel the edges fraying.
The makeshift defenses, wire snares, some stick carved into spike peppered theoughout the cam. Nightly watch rotations, they might slow a small group... But they wouldn't stop a real horde.
And one day, a horde would come. Rick felt it coming. It wasn't if. It was when.
He closed his eyes briefly, the weight of leadership settling on him like armor he couldn't take off.
As much as it pained him, he knew this place wasn't sustainable.
His thoughts were broken by a call.
"Rick!" Lori's voice.
He exhaled sharply through his nose. The sound of her voice, it used to bring him comfort.
Now, it felt more like a summons. Like a weight. Something about her tone… it was always clipped, demanding, like he owed her something.
Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't.
But he knew, even before the world fell apart, their marriage had cracks. Now, in the aftermath, those cracks felt like canyons.
Maybe Shane wasn't the only one who changed, he thought grimly.
Rick sighed again, heavier this time, before turning and walking toward her.
---
A couple hours later.
By the lake's edge, Amy sat on a smooth stone, scrubbing a shirt against a washboard. Her hands were red and raw, muscles sore from repetition, suds clinging to her wrists. The sun shimmered off the water, giving a false sense of serenity.
She barely registered the conversations around her for the last couple hours.
Zoned in, washing clothes one after another. Barely noticing the time that had passed.
That is, until Jacqui's voice cut in, lighthearted and longing: "I miss my Maytag."
A ripple of agreement followed.
Carol smirked, "I miss my vibrator."
The group burst into laughter.
Amy giggled, until Andrea chimed in, tone sly. "Amy doesn't. She has a new friend to take care of her needs."
All eyes shifted to Amy in an instant.
Teasing began. "How was he?" "Did he perform?" "Was it good?"
Amy flushed deep crimson. "Nothing happened," she said too quickly.
The women stared, unconvinced.
Amy wilted slightly, sighing in surrender. "I just went to check on him last night. He didn't answer, so… I let myself in."
The ladies gasped.
Andrea quipped with a grin, "Creep."
Amy turned her face away, cheeks burning. "I was just checking on him! But… he opened his eyes and… mistook me for Claire again."
The women, already deep into gossip mode, leaned in closer, hungry for more.
Carol raised an eyebrow. "So he asked you to lay with him, and you just… did?"
Anna, Morales's wife sang, "Someone's in love."
Amy swallowed, fiddling with a damp sleeve, ignoring the teasing. "He pulled me close and… smelled my hair before falling asleep."
There was a beat of silence, then...
"No steamy session? Just sleep? Damn." Andrea said, genuinely scandalized.
The other ladies also greatly disappointed.
Amy, almost defensively, added, "Well... not nothing. I, um, felt his chest. And abs. Checking for wounds. Obviously."
The laughter was immediate.
"Oh sure," Jacqui teased, "Gotta make sure the ridges of his abs are still sharp."
Andrea leaned in with a grin. "You better scoop him up before I do. He's already copped a feel."
Amy's eyes widened. "What?!"
Andrea shrugged. "He may have grabbed a little more than my shoulder when I helped him up the stairs..."
Amy's face dropping. Andrea relenting Amy's almost crestfallen look, "His hand slipped."
Amy sat up straighter. "So... he didn't cop a feel. He just… slipped. " 'Good'
Her face softened, just slightly. As if that small distinction mattered more than she wanted to admit.
The others giggled and continued their teasing, but Amy's gaze drifted again, toward the edge of the lake.
Where Shane was showing Carl how to catch frogs near the waterline. But obviously having no idea what he's doing.
Her thoughts weren't on Shane though.
They were on Joe. How good he was with Sophia last night.
The way he held her close. The way she felt, nestled in his arms.
'I'm not in love', she told herself again.
But the way her heart fluttered said otherwise.
The laughter and teasing died abruptly at the sound of a harsh, gravelly voice from behind.
"More washing, less talking," Ed growled, arms crossed, standing like a shadow looming over the lakeside.
Andrea looked up, eyes narrowing. "Why don't you mind your own business?" she snapped, flinging the wet laundry in her hands at him. The soaked shirt slapped against his chest and slid down, landing in the dirt.
Ed chuckled mockingly, but his grin vanished as he scooped it up and hurled it back. Hitting Andrea square in the face.
The women gasped.
Andrea shot to her feet, furious, getting nose-to-nose with him. "Do it yourself if you've got so much to say."
Unbothered, Ed leaned slightly to the side, raising his voice. "Let's go, Carol!"
Carol looked up meekly from her place at the water's edge, scrubbing a shirt. "I-I'm not done yet…"
Ed's voice rose, sharp and venomous. "I said let's go!"
She scrambled to her feet as the others muttered among themselves.
"You don't have to go," Jacqui said quietly.
Before Carol could answer, Ed stormed over and grabbed her arm, yanking her forward roughly. She stumbled.
"Hey!" Andrea barked, slapping his hand away and freeing Carol. "Let her go! We've seen the bruises!"
The women stood together now, nodding in agreement. Ed's lip curled.
"I don't need some blonde bimbo telling me how to handle my wife," he snarled, turning and lifting his hand.
The slap came fast.
Amy barely had time to react, but she did. She moved to shield Andrea, taking the full force of the blow.
Smack!
She hit the ground hard, a sharp gasp escaping her as the bruise formed instantly on her cheek.
Andrea dropped to her knees, checking on her. "You dared to touch Amy?" she hissed, eyes blazing. "Joe won't leave your corpse intact!"
Ed froze. The blood drained from his face.
He stepped forward to strike her, enraged at the threat but his arm stopped mid-strike.
A hand clenched around his wrist like an iron vice.
Ed slowly turned, and behind him stood Joe.
Covered in dried walker blood. Breathing slow. Eyes blazing.
Joe said nothing.
He moved.
His free hand, already curled into a fist...
Slammed into Ed's lower back. A vicious kidney shot.
Ed dropped like a sack of rocks, wheezing, eyes bulging out.
Joe didn't let him recover.
Crack! A left to the eye.
Bam! A right to the jaw.
Ed hit the dirt, moaning. Already downed, but Joe didn't stop. He mounted him, unloading punch after punch.
His fists hammered Ed's face with brutal precision. Bling rage, but slightly contained, the same ruthless efficiency he used on walkers.
Flesh split. Teeth flew. Ed's face became a crimson smear.
The women stood frozen. The entire thing had happened so fast.
Carol cried out, "S-Someone stop him! He'll kill him!"
Shane arrived seconds later, pushing through the crowd. "Joe!"
He reached in to pull him back...
A mistake.
Joe spun, grabbed Shane's arm, flipped him into the dirt, and dropped an elbow into his face. Shane's nose gave a wet crunch.
Dazed, Shane fumbled for his pistol, finger brushing the trigger.
Only for Joe to smack it away, then drive his forehead into Shane's face in a savage headbutt.
Shane slumped back. Unconscious.
Silence.
Joe remained on the ground, panting. His fists raw, torn, and bloodied. They hung loosely at his sides.
Ed lay in a heap close to him, a twitching, battered mess.
His face was unrecognizable. It was swollen, purple, leaking blood from everywhere.
Some of his teeth had landed nearby in the dirt.
Shane lay a few feet away, his nose crooked, breathing shallow.
No one dared move.
The image of the monster that had broken Ed apart was still fresh in their minds.
Even Andrea, usually bold, stared with wide eyes.
But Amy… Amy moved.
She got to her knees, wet cloth in hand, and gently took Joe's torn fists in hers.
She began to dab the blood away. Slowly... tenderly.
Joe's expression had changed. The rage, the violence. It was gone. He looked down at Amy like she was the only thing grounding him.
He lifted a hand to her face, brushing his fingers lightly over the bruise he'd tried to prevent. "Does it hurt?" he whispered, voice so soft it barely reached her ears.
Amy shook her head. "Not too bad."
Andrea, watching in stunned silence, exhaled sharply.
Jacqui muttered, "I thought you were exaggerating earlier…"
Anna added, almost in awe, "Guess not."
No one said anything more. No one had anything to say.