Dinner was over. Lanterns still swayed gently from tree branches, casting long, sleepy shadows.
Most of the group had scattered.
Some to tents, others to the house. Laughter had faded. The quiet had returned.
Joe stood near the fence line, watching the moonlit fields. The night air was cooler now, his breath faint in the chill.
Maggie approached quietly.
He heard her boots crunch the grass and turned his head.
"Everything alright?" he asked.
She didn't answer right away, just stepped up beside him and looked out over the dark horizon.
"I've been thinking," she finally said, voice low.
"About earlier. The pharmacy."
Joe's jaw tightened slightly. "Yeah?"
"I almost died in there," she said flatly.
"One second I was looking through shelves… next, I was on the floor with a dead thing on top of me."
Joe said nothing.
Maggie glanced at him.
"You saved me. Again. And I'm grateful. But it… shook me. More than I want to admit."
A pause. Then...
"I don't know how I feel about… all this. You. Me. What we are or aren't."
Joe's face remained unreadable.
"But if anything's gonna happen between us," Maggie continued, "I want to go slow. I need to. I've lost too much, too fast."
He nodded once, quietly. "That's fair."
Maggie looked down, fiddling with her sleeve, then lifted her eyes back to him.
"There's something else."
Joe turned fully now. "Go on."
She hesitated. "The barn."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"What about it?"
"There are walkers inside."
Silence stretched.
"My dad… he keeps them there. He thinks they're sick. Not dead. Not gone."
Joe looked at her, his expression unreadable...
"How many?"
"I don't know," she admitted.
"More than a ten."
She met his eyes again.
"I'm telling you now because I trust you. But I'm also asking… not to tell the others. Not until I've talked to him again."
Joe nodded slowly. "Okay."
Maggie exhaled, relief flickering across her face.
"Thank you."
She turned to leave, then stopped, glancing back.
"Slow's okay with you?"
Joe gave her the faintest smile. "Yeah. I'm not going anywhere."
Maggie nodded once and walked back toward the house.
Joe stood there a little longer, thinking about the barn.
...
Maggie was in the kitchen with Hershel, her voice tense.
"They're not sick, Daddy. They're dead. You have to let them go."
Hershel's expression hardened. "They're still people. You don't get to decide when someone stops being human."
Maggie bit her tongue. There was no convincing him.
---
Joe made his rounds around the farm.
Noticing the firewood running low, he picked up an axe and began chopping.
Each swing was slow and steady. His form was near perfect.
From the porch, Amy and Andrea watched, eyes glinting with admiration... or lust.
The rhythm was broken when Dale stormed over.
---
Thirty minutes earlier...
Dale had been out walking, trying to clear his head, when he got too close to the barn.
A low groaning sound stopped him. Curious, he crept closer.
Through a narrow gap in the wood, he saw them. At least a dozen walkers trapped inside.
He stumbled back, heart pounding, nearly falling over and nearly pissing himself.
Eyes wide with shock, he rushed away quietly, then spotted Hershel by the well and confronted him.
"You're keeping those monsters in your barn?" Dale asked, voice hushed but sharp.
"They're sick people, not monsters!" Hershel replied. "They need help, not execution."
"They're monsters, Hershel. You're putting all of us at risk."
But Hershel was unmoved. Dale turned and walked off, furious.
---
Back in the present, Dale pulled Joe aside.
"There are walkers in the barn," he said.
"I know," Joe replied calmly. "Maggie told me."
Dale blinked. "You knew? And you're just... chopping wood?"
"They're not a threat. I can take care of it if I need to."
"Then why not now?"
Joe sighed. "Maggie's trying to talk sense into her father. If she can't… I'll do what has to be done."
Dale nodded slowly. A few others had noticed the heated conversation, but didnt pry into the reason for it.
The tension stayed in the air for a short while, before it was forgotten.
Joe returned to chopping.
---
Inside the farmhouse, Rick and Lori sat by Carl's bedside. The air between them wasn't as cold as before.
"We need to keep things civil. For Carl," Lori said.
Rick nodded. "But know this... we'll never be together again."
Lori lowered her eyes and guilty expression. "I know."
She remembered how close Rick and Elize had been getting. They had even shared a tent one night.
They fell into silence.
Then Carl stirred.
"Dad... Mom...?"
Both parents rushed to his side, relief washing over their faces.
---
At dusk, Maggie found Joe by the fire.
"I couldn't convince him," she said quietly.
Joe let out a long breath and patted her shoulder. "I'll handle it tomorrow."
She hesitated. "My mom and brother are in there... please don't hurt their bodies more than you have to."
Joe nodded. Maggie hugged him briefly, placing a soft kiss to his cheek.
Then she walked back to the house.
---
The next morning, the group was in high spirits. Carl was recovering. There was laughter again.
Then Dale stood up, looking at Joe, who gave a small nod.
Dale cleared his throat. "The barn's full of walkers."
The laughter stopped. Silence. Then chaos.
"What?!" Glenn shouted.
Joe said calmly, "Relax."
Lori's voice rose above the rest. "You expect us to stay calm?!"
Joe stepped forward and whistled sharply. Everyone froze.
"Quiet," he said, cold and firm. "I'll take care of it."
---
Everyone followed Joe to the barn. The Greene family noticed the commotion and approached.
Joe reached for the barn doors.
"What the hell are you doing?" Hershel yelled, storming over.
Joe turned. "Sorry, Hershel. But they're not sick. They're dead."
He pulled the doors open.
The walkers poured out. Gasps echoed as the group saw just how many had been kept inside.
Joe stepped forward, machete in hand, and began executing them one by one.
Swift, efficient, careful not to damage the bodies more than necessary.
Hershel dropped to his knees. Maggie held a sobbing Beth.
Suddenly, Beth broke free and ran toward her mother's corpse...
The body lurched, grabbing her wrist.
Joe yanked Beth away just in time. Daryl rushed forward and finished the job with a stab to the head.
Beth, trembling, returned to her mother's side.
Then came more groaning, from the shadows at the back of the barn.
Two smaller walkers emerged into the light.
Mary collapsed. Glenn caught her, holding her as she stared in horror.
It was her brother and the teen girl they'd been searching for.
"They were here the whole damn time," Daryl growled.
He stepped forward, putting one down with a bolt and the other with his knife.
Mary dropped to her knees, clinging to her brother's body. Glenn stood silently by her side, rubbing her back.
Hershel stood abruptly.
"I want you off this farm," he said, pointing at Joe.
"Daddy, no..." Maggie pleaded, but he ignored her. Amy and Andrea noticed this.
Hershel walked straight to his truck, got in, and drove off without another word.
---
Later that day, Beth was lying in bed, silent and catatonic. Lori sat by her side, gently tending to her.
Rick, who had missed the barn incident entirely, heard what had happened.
"Joe made the right call."
...
Carl was feeling stronger. Rick, still cautious, allowed him to get out of bed with a stern warning to take it slow.
Then Rick headed out, he needed to find Joe. They had to track down Hershel and bring him back.
They couldn't afford to lose the farm. Not now. Not with Carl still healing and winter creeping in.
---
Alone in the house, Carl moved carefully, his side aching with every step. From upstairs, he heard the faint sound of someone crying.
He hesitated, then began the slow climb. Each step sent a jolt through his ribs.
Reaching the top, he paused to catch his breath before gently pushing open a bedroom door.
Beth was sitting on the edge of the bed, a knife trembling in her hand, pressed to her wrist.
She froze when she saw Carl. Her eyes widened, and she quickly shoved the blade away, ashamed.
"What were you doing?" Carl asked, voice cracking with worry.
"Nothing…" Beth mumbled, unable to meet his gaze.
Carl stood there, uncertain, then limped over and sat beside her. He gave her a lopsided smile.
Beth glanced at him and let out a soft laugh through her tears.
"That's better," Carl said.
They sat together in silence for a while before Carl began talking.
About the deer he saw in the woods before the farm, how soft its fur was, how beautiful its eyes shined.
Beth listened, her eyes slowly brightening. For the first time since her mother and brother got sick, she remembered there was still beauty in this world.
Down the hallway, Lori stopped at the doorway, startled to see Beth smiling. Carl talking exaggeratedly.
She backed away quietly, letting them have this moment.
---
Rick and Joe had just finished speaking with Maggie.
She told them about the old bar Hershel always retreated to when he needed space.
It was only a few blocks from the pharmacy.
They grabbed a pair of rifles and drove out slowly. The silence between them was heavy.
"We talk to him," Rick said finally, "and we bring him home."
Joe nodded but said nothing.
---
Meanwhile, Amy and Andrea were folding clothes outside when Maggie approached.
The sisters were cold at first, guarded.
Maggie told them what happened with Joe at the pharmacy. How he'd saved her. How they'd "connected".
"I'm not trying to take him from you," she added. "I just want to know him better."
Amy and Andrea exchanged a look, then relaxed. They started talking.
Within minutes, the three were laughing together as they folded laundry.
The tension between them was gone.
---
Elsewhere, Daryl and Dale were discussing security.
"We need to train the others," Daryl said. "If that group Joe ran into is still out there…"
Dale nodded. "We'll start with the silenced weapons. No noise. No attention."
They agreed to wait until Rick and Joe got back to discuss it with them.
---
The truck rumbled to a stop in front of the bar. Hershel's old pickup sat outside, silent.
Rick and Joe stepped inside. The air was stale.
Hershel sat slouched at the bar, a nearly empty bottle of whiskey beside him.
Joe didn't hesitate...
He walked up, grabbed the bottle, and took a swig.
Rick gave him a disapproving look, but didn't stop him.
Hershel glanced at them, eyes bloodshot, but said nothing.
"Hershel…" Rick began.
"I thought they were sick," Hershel cut in, voice hollow.
"Locked them up to protect everyone. But really, I didn't let my daughters grieve. Not their mother... Shawn..."
"You didn't know," Rick said gently.
"I did." Hershel stared at the glass in his hand. "I just couldn't accept it."
Joe leaned against the bar. "You made a mistake. That's all."
Rick nodded. "Beth shut down. She needs you."
"She needs her mother," Hershel muttered. "They were always close."
Joe's voice softened. "Beth's in shock. She might not come out of it without you."
"I robbed her of grieving," Hershel whispered.
Rick said, "You hoped for the best. You were wrong. So what?"
Hershel sighed, then chuckled bitterly. "When I first saw you running through my field with your boy, I didn't think he'd make it. But he did. I called it a miracle. Turns out it was a sham. My daughters deserved better than that. Better than me."
Rick sat beside him, poured a drink. The three men sat in silence. Finally, Hershel began to grieve. Quiet, broken sobs.
After a while, Rick asked, "So what's your plan? Drink yourself to death? Leave your girls to fend for themselves?"
"Stop telling me how to run my family!" Hershel snapped. "I let you all stay. I was doing the christian thing. And you destroyed my farm."
"The world was already wrecked," Joe said calmly. "Long before we got here."
"You take no responsibility," Hershel shouted. "You're supposed to be their leaders!"
"We're here now!" Rick snapped back.
Hershel slammed his glass down. "When I saw Annette grab Beth… I knew. And when those kids came out of the barn… I saw your faces. You knew too."
Rick and Joe stayed silent.
"There's no hope left for any of us," Hershel muttered.
Joe let out a sudden, wild laugh. Hershel and Rick stared.
Joe wiped his eyes. "So what if there's no hope? I'll carve out a piece of the world anyway."
He laughed again, low and bitter. "Death's death. Whether it's a walker or a bullet. It's always been here. Always will be. Stop acting like the world's changed. It's just honest now."
Hershel and Rick exchanged a look. And as grim as it sounded, they couldn't help but agree.
"It's not about hope anymore," Rick said. "It's about survival. About keeping those we love alive."
Hershel nodded slowly.
He pushed back from the bar, ready to leave... then froze.
Footsteps echoed from the front door.
Two men stepped in. One heavyset, the other thin. Both filthy. Both glaring.
Joe shifted his stance, eyes narrowing.
"Trouble," he muttered.