Joe didn't move to stop the woman. He was just glad Sophia was safe.
He shot Rick a hard look. "This is why we don't rescue people who shoot at us."
Rick said nothing, just gave a solemn nod.
Joe turned to Randall's unconscious body. No hesitation. He drew his Glock, aimed and fired.
Bang!
Randall's head jolted, now sporting a fresh hole.
...
Michonne jolted at the gunshot. Glancing back at the group.
She saw Joe holster his weapon and walk off without a word, catching up to Daryl like he'd just finished taking out the trash.
Michonne continued forward disappearing into the woods. 'No mercy.'
...
Rick stood there, staring at the corpse. A second. Maybe two. Then he let out a long breath and turned away, trudging back to camp.
The guilt had clouded his judgement last night.
He had shot Dave and to attone, he saved Randall. It had been his way to make it right.
'I almost got Sophia killed. Or worse.'
Rick clenched his jaw and shook the thought away, heading into the house.
Upstairs, he found Carl with Beth. Chatting away.
...
Dale had seen it all from his post atop the water truck. As Joe walked past, Dale dropped down and stepped in front of him.
"How could you do that? There has to be..."
Joe didn't slow. "Dale... I get it. But fuck off. I don't want to hear your bullshit right now."
Dale stood stunned, mouth open, no words. By the time he collected himself, Joe was already across the clearing.
Sitting on a blanket beside Amy, gently rubbing her feet. Talking softly with her, precious laughter erupting.
Dale climbed back onto the truck. He didn't say another word but he didn't forget what he saw either.
---
Around noon, Hershel found Joe near the firepit.
"Maggie wants to check out that new development. She thinks a friend of hers might've stayed there. Mind going with?"
Joe nodded and stood up slowly. Amy was asleep on the blanket, a soft smile on her face.
He lifted her carefully and carried her to the tent, laying her on their sleeping bag.
He kissed her forehead, then her lips... just for a second.
He stepped out, just in time to catch Andrea hurrying over.
"Joey. I heard you're heading out."
He nodded. "Need anything?"
Andrea grinned. "Olives. Black or green... I'm dying for some."
Joe smirked. "Of course. Anything for my babymama."
Andrea slapped his arm. "I'm not your babymama. I'm wife number two."
Joe laughed. "Is that better?"
She looked away, but her voice softened. "To me it is."
Joe pulled her close and kissed her. She melted into it.
"Oh... and some applesauce."
"Got it," Joe said, breaking the kiss.
Andrea turned back toward the tents, a little lighter in her step.
---
Maggie was waiting on the porch.
"Knew Daddy would find me a babysitter," she teased.
Joe grinned. "Yep. I'm certified."
Maggie laughed and headed toward the stables.
Joe called after her, "Yeah, no. I'm not riding a horse for thirty minutes."
He walked to his black Harley instead.
Maggie glanced back, then changed course. "Okay, Scarface."
Joe paused.
Maggie gained a nervous expression. "What? Rick said you liked the nickname."
Joe laughed, "Haha, alright Shorty."
Maggie scowled, "I'm not short!"
Joe smiled, "You are compared to me." Joe climbed on and fired it up.
Maggie slid on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"Let's go, tiger."
Joe chuckled, dropped it into first, and peeled off down the dusty road.
---
They rode easy... maybe thirty miles an hour.
Slow enough to talk comfortably, but also shorten the distance quickly.
Maggie told him about Emma, an old friend from high school who had just moved back after finishing vet school in Florida.
Quirky. Smart. The kind of person who made weird jokes at the wrong time but made you laugh anyway.
As she talked, her voice drifted, and her face dimmed. The weight of the world started creeping back in.
Joe gave her thigh a squeeze.
Maggie blinked, then smiled. She kissed his cheek. "Thanks."
...
They pulled up to the edge of the new housing development. Quiet.
Just a few walkers in the distance, dragging feet with nowhere to go.
Joe killed the engine. He and Maggie dismounted, continuing on foot.
Joe turned toward the first house in their path.
Maggie raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"
"Wife two wanted olives and applesauce," Joe said, walking up the porch. "Wife one asked for sardines."
Maggie scoffed. "Wife one and two, huh? Guess that makes me number three."
Joe chuckled. "I thought you wanted to take it slow."
"I did," Maggie teased, crossing her arms. "But you already finished inside. Plus... slim pickings these days."
Joe muttered, "Thanks," deadpan.
Maggie laughed, "Come on, Scarface." She grabbed his arm, and led him up the steps.
Joe kicked the door open. A ceramic vase toppled and shattered on the floor. They paused. Waited. Nothing.
Joe nodded once. Maggie peeled off toward the kitchen while he moved through the house.
Checking corners, closets, bedrooms... all cleared.
'Boring.' Joe thought.
He came back down the stairs without a sound.
Maggie was in the kitchen, humming softly, swaying side to side as she rifled through the pantry.
In her hand, a small wooden tulip. It was old, worn, probably hand-carved. She smiled at it like it was something sacred.
Joe moved up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist.
She leaned back into him instinctively, letting out a soft, surprised breath as he brushed her earlobe with his lips.
"I need you," he murmured.
She didn't turn around. Just leaned further into him.
...
They hit two more houses before heading to Emma's.
One had a kitchen mostly intact.
Joe scored a dusty can of sardines and a jar of green olives. Maggie raised an eyebrow when he held them up like trophies.
"Look at you, domestic as hell," she teased.
Joe smirked. "Just trying to keep the wives happy. Also, thats not what you were screaming earlier."
Maggie blushed, smacking his chest softly.
The next place was a bust, rats had gotten to most of the pantry. Maggie snagged a dented cup of applesauce off the top shelf.
She shook it and grinned. "Andrea will be happy"
Joe nodded.
By the time they rolled up to Emma's house, the sun had started dipping behind the trees, casting long shadows across the overgrown front lawn.
The place looked untouched. Too quiet.
Joe slowed his pace.
"You sure this is the one?" he asked.
Maggie nodded. "She lived here before the outbreak. Came back last spring."
They stepped onto the porch. No movement inside. Joe tried the handle...
It was unlocked.
He pushed the door open cautiously.
Inside, the living room was warm and weirdly cozy.
Candles burned low on the mantle. A stack of old books on the coffee table.
Food wrappers littered the floor like a college dorm. And there, lounging on a faded floral couch, legs kicked up, was Emma.
She has a warm brown complexion and natural, tightly coiled black curls that frame her face, with a few strands falling softly toward her forehead.
Her eyebrows are well-shaped, and her eyes are almond-shaped with a calm, confident gaze.
She's wearing a soft pink oversized sweatshirt, which adds a cozy and relaxed vibe to her look.
She was reading.
Just... reading.
She didn't look up. "If you're here to rob me, I already ate all the good snacks."
Maggie blinked. "Emma?"
Emma glanced over the book's edge. Her face broke into a wide grin. "Maggie Greene! I was wondering when you'd finally show up."
Maggie stood in the doorway, baffled. "You're alive?"
Emma shut the book and tossed it aside. "Yeah. Shocking, right? Turns out being an antisocial shut-in finally paid off."
Maggie rushed over, hugging her hard. Kissing her cheek softly.
Emma laughed, hugging her back. "God, you smell like road dust and desperation."
Joe closed the door behind them. "You got any olives?"
Emma raised an eyebrow. "Pantry. Third shelf. Next to the marshmallows and questionable peanut butter."
Joe looked at Maggie. "I like her."
Maggie smiled. "Told you she was weird."
Emma dropped back on the couch, arms behind her head.
"So," she said, smirking. "You two want dinner or trauma bonding first?"
...
Joe and Maggie settled in.
Joe rifled through the pantry like a man on a mission while Maggie curled up in an old armchair across from Emma.
Emma tossed another wrapper into the pile. "Before you say anything. I know. It's a mess. I've been stress-eating and not expecting guests."
Maggie smiled faintly. "How long have you been here?"
Emma shrugged. "On and off since things went to hell. Tried going south for a bit. Got robbed. Came back. Decided staying put was safer than pretending the world isn't on fire."
Joe emerged with the requested olives and a half-smashed granola bar. "And no one's found this place?"
Emma shook her head. "I've had a few close calls. But I figured out early on... don't make noise, don't burn fires at night, and act crazy if someone walks in..."
"People don't mess with weird. They'll shoot you if you look normal. But talk to a toaster long enough, they back out real slow."
Joe blinked. "You talked to a toaster?"
"Only once. His name was Greg. Total asshole."
Maggie laughed. The sound was unexpected... real, light. Something Joe hadn't heard from her in a while.
Emma leaned back, stretching. "The vet thing helped. Not just with animals, patching people up too. I kept busy. Got good at stitching. Better at hiding."
She gestured to a stack of journals on the shelf. "Kept notes. Not like apocalypse survival stuff. Just... people. What changed in them. What stayed. I thought maybe someday I'd do something with it. But mostly, I just didn't want to forget who I was."
Her voice dropped a little on that last part. Not dramatic. Just honest.
Maggie looked at her. "You're still you."
Emma met her gaze. "So are you. Just with better boots."
Joe watched them, then glanced at the boarded windows, the dusty floor, the wrappers, the quiet defiance in how Emma carried herself.
"You're tougher than half the people I've seen in the last couple months." he said.
Emma smirked. "Yeah, well. The world ended. I adapted."
She stood and stretched, her joints cracking. Her breasts straining against her sweatshirt.
"So. Are we going to your house? Or are we staying here for the next round of snack roulette?"
...
They stepped out of Emma's house, arms loaded with supplies, just as the sound of tires crunching gravel cut through the silence.
A black SUV rolled slowly down the road.
Emma froze.
Maggie whispered, "That's Randall's group."
Emma's face went pale. "Great."
The SUV stopped. Doors flung open.
Gunfire erupted.
Joe shoved the girls behind a rusted-out pickup in the yard.
He returned fire without hesitation, moving smooth and fast, like it was second nature.
Maggie and Emma ducked low, hands over their heads. Bullets punched into the doors and shattered the windows.
Joe rolled left, fired three rounds. Two found targets.
One of the gunmen dropped screaming. Another took a round to the chest and crumpled.
More shouting.
Another burst of shots cracked the air, but Joe didn't flinch.
He moved up, cool and methodical, dropping another man as he tried to flank from behind a mailbox.
The last attacker stumbled out of cover, bleeding and panicked. Joe didn't hesitate. Two clean shots...
Bang! Bang!
The man hit the dirt hard.
Joe walked over and double-tapped him without a word.
It was over.
Silence returned, except for the buzzing of flies and the distant moans of walkers starting to stir.
Maggie and Emma stood slowly, staring at Joe.
He turned toward them. "Grab the guns."
Neither moved for a beat.
"Now, please." Joe said.
They nodded and got to work, collecting rifles, pistols, half-full mags.
Joe kept watch, eyes on the end of the street, ears tuned to the sound of the dead closing in.
Emma's minivan was still parked in the driveway. They loaded the weapons into the back.
Slamming the door just as the first walker appeared, dragging itself toward the bodies.
"Time to go!" Joe said.
They piled into the van. Maggie behind the wheel, remembering the last time she let Emma drive.
Joe ran to his Harley. Emma followed.
"Wait... What are you doing?" Maggie shouted.
Emma grinned. "I've always wanted to ride one of these!"
Joe groaned. "Hold on tight, toaster girl."
Emma snorted and wrapped her arms around him.
He revved the engine, peeled out. Maggie rolled her eyes and gunned the van. Dust spraying behind them as they raced away from the growing horde.
She was annoyed. Maybe a little jealous.
But she let it go. 'That's just Emma!'
...
The sun was low by the time they rolled into camp. Joe's Harley leading, Maggie following in the minivan, tires crunching over gravel.
As soon as Joe shut off the engine, Amy and Andrea rushed from the house like they'd been staring out the window.
Amy got there first, throwing her arms around him and planting a kiss on his cheek.
Andrea came in right after, grabbing his collar and smooching him full on the mouth.
Joe let it happen, expression happy. He was used to this being his life now.
Emma stood beside the van, eyebrows raised. "Well damn. Didn't realize I was joining a harem."
Joe smirked. "Toaster girl, meet the wives."
Amy looked over, tilting her head. "Toaster girl?"
Joe nodded. "Talked to a toaster. Survived the end of the world by being weirder than it."
Emma gave a small, embarrassed laugh and a slight blush crept up her cheeks. "That story wasn't supposed to travel."
Andrea grinned. "Oh, it's traveling."
Joe gestured broadly to the camp. "This is the crew. House is there. Water's there. Showers if you're lucky. But it's home."
Emma nodded, taking it in. People moving about, campfires lit, tension in the air but not the kind that chokes. The kind that holds things together.
Maggie gave Emma a look and jerked her head toward the farmhouse. "Come on. You're bunking with me."
Emma followed, still adjusting to the shift from survival mode to something resembling community.
As they walked up the porch steps, she muttered, "So… just to be clear. You and Joe…?"
Maggie sighed with a crooked smile. "It's complicated."
Emma glanced back over her shoulder as Amy and Andrea each latched onto Joe's arms again, laughing about something.
"I can see that."
The screen door creaked shut behind them.
Inside, the house was quiet. The room Maggie led her to had a full size bed, a small nightstand, and a thin quilt folded neatly at the end of the bed.
Emma dropped her pack and sat down with a thud.
Maggie tossed her an extra pillow.
"You snore, I'll smother you with that."
Emma grinned. "Deal."
For the first time in a long time, she felt something close to safe.