Bob drifted back to consciousness with the smell of smoke and meat thick in his nose. His head pounded, vision swimming.
A hand slapped his cheek. Once. Twice. He blinked blearily to see Gareth sitting beside him, plate in hand, chewing slowly.
"Wake up," Gareth murmured, smirking. "Good news is... you're not dead yet. Try not to think too much on that word, yet. Drives a man crazy."
Bob's eyes darted around. A fire burned in the courtyard of an abandoned high school.
The last survivors of Terminus... barely a dozen sat in a loose circle.
Their faces were twisted but their expressions… satisfied. Meat glistened in their hands.
Bob's stomach twisted. His chest heaved.
Before he could speak, Gareth grabbed his chin, forcing his eyes at him.
"I feel like I need to explain myself, Bob. We didn't want this. Didn't want to hurt you. Didn't want to take you from your group."
He chewed deliberately, swallowing with a grin. "But we need this. Now."
His voice darkened, anger bubbling through. "Your leader, Joe... he took our home. Burned it down. Which… fair game, I guess. But now we're out here, like everyone else. Hunting."
Gareth spread his hands, almost apologetic. "It didn't start this way. Wasn't always eating people. But things change. We've… devolved into hunters. That's just survival."
He leaned close, his smile widening. "Nothing personal."
He sighed, almost wistful. "We'd do this to anybody. We will. Because at the end of the day, no matter how much we hate this messy business…"
Gareth tilted Bob's head downward toward the fire, smirking. "…a man's gotta eat."
Bob's breath came fast, panicked. His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts.
"If it makes you feel better," Gareth added casually, "you taste better than we expected."
The others chuckled around the fire, chewing with greedy delight.
Bob's vision blurred as he saw them gnawing, licking grease from their fingers.
Gareth's voice droned on, smooth and sick. "You know, bears eat their young when food runs out. If the bear dies, so does the cub. But if the bear lives? It can always make more cubs."
Bob's lips curled. His voice cracked, mocking. "So you'd eat your own child, huh? You stopped being human a long time ago."
He smirked through the pain. "And when Joe finds you... because he will.... he'll make sure you die slow."
For the first time, Gareth's smile faltered. "No. He won't." He waved it off, recovering.
"Anyway, that was part of the pitch. Greg and Kevin almost had that gray-haired bitch. But she drove off with the archer." He chuckled.
"Can't wait to taste her. I like women better. Always have. My brother... dead now, thanks to Joe. He had a theory. Thought it was the fat layer. For pregnancy, you know? Adds something extra."
His eyes glimmered cruelly. "Women like Sasha. Pretty ones taste better too." He took another bite, savoring it.
Bob's body trembled. His chest heaved... and then he laughed. Low at first, shaking.
Gareth tilted his head, mistaking it for sobs. "What's funny, Bob? I'm talking to you, like a human being. I'm giving you perspective."
Bob couldn't hold it anymore. The laughter spilled out, wild, manic.
"Tainted meat," he hissed, tugging at his collar, exposing the bite wound on his shoulder.
His voice rose, loud, echoing. "I've been bitten, you stupid pricks. I'm tainted meat!"
The fire crackled. For a moment, the Terminus survivors froze.
Then panicked. Faces turning pale.
People spat, gagged, clawed at their throats, trying to vomit up what they'd just eaten.
"Tainted meat!" Bob howled, laughing harder, cackling. "Tainted meat!"
Chaos broke.
"You didn't check him?!" a woman screamed.
"He was fine!" another shouted.
One man pulled a knife. "Let's kill him now!"
"No!" Gareth barked, silencing them. His smirk returned, thinner this time.
Bob just laughed louder, tears in his eyes. "Tainted meat!"
The laughter kept rolling until Gareth's boot slammed into his skull, snapping his head sideways and plunging him into darkness.
The fire hissed. Meat sizzled.
And the hunters sat in uneasy silence.
...
The road stretched out in front of them, fog still thick in the early morning air.
The sedan rattled as Daryl kept his hands tight on the wheel, headlights still off.
Ahead of them, the faint glow of taillights burned through the mist. The police cruiser.
Carol braced herself on the dashboard. "How long you think they've had her?"
Daryl's jaw clenched. "A couple days. They're headin' somewhere. And we ain't losin' 'em."
He pressed the gas harder, keeping just far enough back not to be noticed. The fog swallowed the road around them, the silence broken only by the engine's growl.
The cruiser slowed suddenly, signaling a turn. Daryl eased off, watching as it rolled onto a cracked side road, deeper into the trees.
Carol's eyes tracked the direction.
"That's Atlanta."
Daryl's eyes narrowed. He knew she was right. The city's distant silhouette was beginning to take shape through the haze.
Towering buildings gutted by fire, smoke still lingering even after all this time.
Carol tightened her grip on her knife. "You think Beth's there?"
Daryl's knuckles whitened on the wheel. "Wherever they're goin', that's where we'll find her."
They pulled off the road, cutting the engine. The cruiser rolled on, oblivious.
Daryl killed the engine, the two of them sitting in silence, watching its glow vanish into the fog.
Carol finally spoke, her voice low. "So, what now?"
Daryl's eyes stayed locked on the road. "We walk. Track 'em in. Find out where they took her."
Carol nodded, sliding her pack onto her shoulders. They climbed out of the sedan, the chilly morning air brushing their faces.
The cruiser's taillights were gone now, but the tire tracks cut a clear path through the wet asphalt.
Together, they started after it — two shadows in the mist, heading into the ruins of the city.
Beth was out there.
And they weren't stopping until they brought her back.
...
The church had gone quiet. Most of the group was stretched out on pews or the floor, bellies full, voices low with the comfort of a rare feast.
But Sasha wasn't resting. She moved from one corner of the church to the other, eyes scanning, voice whispering Bob's name.
She asked anyone awake if they'd seen him. A few shrugged, one muttered, "Went out about an hour ago."
Her heart dropped.
She rushed to Tyreese, shaking him awake. "Bob's gone."
Ty blinked, trying to steady himself. "Sasha, slow down... He probably just..."
"No!" she snapped, panic in her voice. "It's been an hour. He wouldn't just leave."
The commotion drew Joe and Rick over. Joe's eyes narrowed. "Something up?"
Sasha turned to them, desperate. "Bob's missing. Some people said they saw him go outside almost an hour ago."
Rick's mouth opened to speak, but before he could, a voice piped up.
"Have you seen Mom and Daryl?"
They all turned. Sophia stood there in the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
Rick and Joe shared a quick glance. Joe crouched, resting a big hand on her shoulder. "They went out earlier. We're gonna go look for them, alright? Go stay with Amy for now."
Sophia hesitated, eyes wide, but nodded. "Okay, Joe. Goodnight." She walked back across the pews, curling beside Amy.
As soon as she was gone, Joe's face hardened. "Let's move. We'll sweep the area. Maybe Daryl and Carol left together, maybe Bob followed. Let's find out."
Flashlights in hand, the four of them slipped out into the night. Their beams cut through the fog as they scoured the dirt road and treeline.
Joe knelt often, studying the ground.
Finally, he stopped. "Here."
The others crowded close. In the dirt, clear prints pressed deep.
"Two sets of tracks. Daryl and Carol. Heading east together." He rose, sweeping his light ahead. "But Bob…"
He crouched again near a tree. The dirt here was different. "Singular track up to this point. Then... two. Drag marks. He was ambushed. Carried away."
Sasha gasped. "Taken? How can you be sure?"
Joe's voice was calm but grim. "I've seen it before. One man's gait, then two. He didn't walk away, he was hauled out."
Sasha's fists clenched. "Then what the hell are we waiting for? Let's go after him."
Joe shook his head firmly. "No. That's what they'd want. Lure us out, separate us."
Rick nodded, grim. "Gabriel's hiding something since we met him. Maybe he knows more than he's saying."
Sasha's voice cracked, raw with anger. "Or maybe he's one of them."
Tyreese stepped forward quickly, shaking his head. "No. Don't do that. Don't start throwing blame around. We don't know anything yet."
Rick's jaw tightened. "We know he's lying. We know he's keeping secrets. And I think it's time we find out what."
Joe nodded once. Sasha did too, fire in her eyes.
Ty sighed, shoulders slumping. "Alright. Let's go."
The four of them turned back toward the church, their flashlights sweeping across the trees. The night felt heavier now, every shadow watching.
And inside those walls, Father Gabriel was waiting.
...
The tracks led them straight into the city.
Atlanta loomed like a carcass picked clean, skyscrapers hollowed out, streets littered with rusted cars and bones long picked dry.
Fog rolled between the buildings, masking sound and movement, but Daryl stayed low, eyes sharp.
The rumble of the police cruiser echoed faintly ahead.
Daryl signaled Carol down, the two crouching behind a collapsed bus.
He peered around the twisted frame, spotting the black-and-white vehicle idling at an intersection.
Two uniforms stepped out, their badges still gleaming faintly.
They moved like they owned the place.
One lit a cigarette, the other scanned the street casually before disappearing into a nearby building.
Carol leaned close, whispering, "They don't look hungry."
Daryl's lips pressed into a hard line. "Means they've been eatin' regular. Means they got a setup."
He studied the cruiser, the uniforms, the confidence in their steps. His gut twisted.
Cops. Real cops. Or at least, that's what they wanted to look like.
Carol's hand brushed his arm. "Beth's with them."
Daryl nodded slowly, eyes never leaving the cruiser. "She has to be."
The two of them tracked the cops from shadow to shadow, weaving through alleys and ducking behind wrecked cars.
Every time the uniforms paused to sweep a street, Daryl froze. His breath tight, finger on the trigger of his crossbow.
The city closed in around them, the hospital looming in the distance... its upper windows shattered, but its lower levels lit faintly with the warm glow of electricity.
Daryl's chest tightened. A working building. Power. Order. That was where they were keeping her.
He crouched lower, whispering, "There. That's it."
Carol's eyes followed his, locking on the hospital. "Then that's where we go."
Daryl swallowed, the weight of it pressing on him. Beth was in there. He could almost see her face, hear her voice.
He set his jaw, crossbow tightening in his grip. "We're gettin' her back."
And with Carol at his side, he moved forward, deeper into the shadows of the city, toward the heart of the storm.
...
The church doors slammed open. Sasha stormed in, knife drawn, eyes wild. Gabriel flinched where he sat near the altar.
Joe, Rick, and Tyreese were right on her heels.
Sasha's voice cut sharp. "What are you doing, huh? You show up… now we're being watched, and three of our people are missing!"
Gabriel staggered to his feet, hands up, panicked. "I... I don't... I don't have anything to do with this."
Sasha advanced, blade glinting. "Where are our people?"
Gabriel shook his head, stumbling back. "I don't know! I don't have anything to do with this!"
Her voice cracked as she shouted. "Where are our people?!"
Rick lunged forward, grabbing Sasha's arm, pulling her back before she could slash.
He stepped into her place, voice hard as steel. "You working with someone?"
Gabriel's eyes darted frantically, his voice breaking. "No! I'm alone. Always alone!"
Rick's glare didn't falter. "What about the woman at the food bank, Gabriel? The one you recognized. 'You'll burn for this.' That was for you, wasn't it? Why?"
Gabriel stammered, choking on his words.
Joe moved forward, grabbing a fistful of the priest's collar and hauling him off the ground. His shadow loomed over him.
Joe's voice was low, dangerous. "What are we gonna burn for, Gabriel? What did you do?"
Gabriel's face crumpled. Tears streaked his cheeks. "I... I lock the doors at night. I always lock the doors at night."
Joe set him down roughly, but didn't let go. Gabriel's hands trembled. "They came here… my congregation. Terrified. Begging for sanctuary. But the doors were locked. I heard them... pounding on the shutters, scratching at the walls, screaming my name."
His voice cracked into a sob. "The dead came. Entire families, calling to me. Begging for mercy. And I..."
He collapsed to his knees. "I kept the doors shut. I buried what was left. All of them. The Lord sent you here to punish me."
His gaze rose to Joe, haunted. "I was damned already. Damned the night I locked them out. I always lock the doors…"
His words dissolved into sobs, his body folding into the floor.
Silence choked the church.
Joe finally muttered, "He's not with whoever took Bob."
Suddenly...
A piercing whistle cut through the night air.
Heads snapped toward the windows. Glenn's voice called out, tense. "There's someone out there. In the grass."
Sasha bolted for the door, rage blazing in her eyes. Rick and Joe were right behind her, rifles raised, beams of flashlight slicing into the dark.
The grass rustled. A shape stirred... Bob.
Tyreese and Lee sprinted forward, hauling him up by the arms. He was half-conscious, blood-soaked, missing a leg.
"Get him inside!" Rick barked.
Ty and Lee dragged Bob through the doorway.
Rick and Joe stayed in the open, backing slowly toward the church, rifles aimed into the treeline.
The fog was thick, the woods silent. Too silent.
Joe's eyes never blinked. His voice was steady, low. "They're out there."
Rick's jaw tightened. "Yeah."
They stepped back into the church, door slamming shut behind them.
...
The church erupted as Tyreese and Lee laid Bob down on a pew. Gasps filled the room when the lantern light caught his bandaged stump.
Blood had soaked through the crude tourniquet, his face pale with fever.
Everyone crowded close. Sasha fell to her knees beside him, clutching his hand.
Rick crouched low, voice steady but urgent. "How many? How many of them are left?"
Bob's head lolled, but he forced himself upright. His voice was hoarse, trembling. "A… handful. Maybe a dozen. Gareth. Mary. Some others. They're still out there."
Murmurs rippled through the group.
Rick's eyes hardened. He glanced across the pews, meeting Joe's gaze. They didn't need words. Both men knew Terminus wasn't finished.
Rick asked again, quieter this time. "What about Daryl and Carol?"
Bob's eyes flickered, focus slipping. "They left. In a car."
Rick turned to Joe, their faces grim mirrors of each other. Whatever it meant, they'd figure it out.
Sasha leaned close, tears brimming. "I've got pills. For the pain."
Bob shook his head, weak but firm. "No… save them. You'll need them later."
Sasha's lip trembled. "Bob..."
With a shuddering breath, Bob pulled at his collar, revealing the ugly bite wound festering on his shoulder.
Gasps rippled again.
He managed a weak smile. "Don't waste anything on me. I'm already gone."
Sasha sobbed, clutching his hand tighter.
Gabriel stepped forward, voice soft, guilt lacing every word. "There's a sofa in my office. It's… it's more comfortable than the pews. He should rest there."
Tyreese moved without hesitation, scooping Bob into his arms like he weighed nothing.
Sasha never let go of his hand, walking beside them as they carried him toward the back rooms.
The church grew silent in their wake.
Everyone was thinking the same thing. 'The hunters were close. And time was running out.'
...
Abraham's voice broke the uneasy silence in the church.
He sat on a pew, face bruised and swollen from his earlier fight with Joe, but his eyes burned with fire.
"Reality check," he growled. "We need to leave. Now."
Joe turned his head slowly, Esther still sleeping in his lap. His voice was calm, but hard. "I told you before... you're free to leave."
Rick crossed his arms. "Our people are still out there. We're not going anywhere."
Abraham stood, fists clenching. "I need to get Eugene out of here. Now."
Rick's voice dropped cold. "You're not taking that bus. There's a lot more of us than there are of you."
Abraham froze, staring Rick down. "Is that how it is?"
Rick didn't blink. "If that's how it's gotta be."
The silence was heavy. Abraham finally turned toward the door. "Rosita. Eugene. We're leaving."
Eugene shifted nervously, looking around the room. Then, with a resigned nod, he followed.
But Rosita didn't move.
Abraham turned back, confused. "Rosita. Let's go."
She shook her head. "No. It's dark, and we don't know what's out there."
His face twisted in anger. "That's never stopped us before."
Her voice was quiet, but firm. "Maybe it should have."
The words landed harder than a blow. Abraham looked betrayed, his jaw working as he turned back toward the door.
"Fine."
But before he could leave, Glenn stepped into his path. "Wait."
Abraham glared, but Glenn didn't back down. "Stay the night. In the morning, I'll help you find a vehicle. I'll go with you."
The whole room went still. Rick's eyes narrowed. "What?"
Joe frowned. "Glenn..."
Glenn just smiled faintly, shaking his head. "Glass half full."
The meaning hung there between them.
Rick exhaled slowly, studying Glenn. Then he nodded once.
Joe looked at Glenn a long moment. Then, to everyone's surprise, he spoke quietly: "Fine. Take the bus tomorrow. We'll find something else."
The room rippled with shock. Joe had beaten Abraham half to death over that very bus.
And now, without hesitation, he gave it up.
Glenn stared, stunned. "Joe…"
Joe smiled faintly, a warmth in his eyes. "It'll be the fall."
Glenn's breath caught. His eyes widened, tears brimming.
He nodded quickly, swallowing hard. "Yeah. The fall."
Most of the group looked on in confusion, not understanding.
Only Rick seemed to catch the weight behind the words. But the details didn't matter.
What mattered was this, Joe had made his stance clear.
And in that moment, everyone saw where his loyalty truly lay.
Abraham stared at Joe for a long time. Finally, he let out a breath, his pride softening. "You know… I thought you were just another stubborn son of a bitch. But you got me pegged wrong."
He looked around at the faces in the room, then back to Joe. "I still believe in D.C. Still believe in Eugene. But I'll say this... I'll help you wipe out what's left of Terminus first. After that… I move on."
Joe's eyes narrowed, but he gave a curt nod. "Good."
Rick stepped forward. "Then we're all on the same page. No one's safe till they're gone."
For the first time, Abraham managed a faint grin through his bruises. "Then let's kill these assholes."
...
The church was dark and still, moonlight filtering weakly through the stained glass.
Most of the group slept scattered on pews and blankets, exhaustion weighing them down.
But not Sasha.
She sat at Bob's side on the sofa in Gabriel's office, her hand wrapped around his.
His skin was clammy, his breaths shallow, each one rattling like the last embers of a dying fire.
She whispered to him through the night... soft words, little stories, promises she knew he wouldn't hear for long.
When dawn crept near, Bob's eyes fluttered open one last time. He smiled faintly at her, lips barely moving. "It's okay."
Tears spilled down her cheeks. She squeezed his hand tighter, whispering, "No. Please, don't."
But his chest rose once… then stilled.
Her sobs wracked the silence. For a moment she just held him, forehead pressed to his.
Then, with shaking hands, she drew her knife. She hovered, trembling, unable to do it. But love and duty gave her strength.
One sob, one thrust.
It was done.
Sasha buried her face against his chest, weeping quietly in the dim room.
…
Out in the nave, Joe sat alone against the wall, his katana laid across his knees.
His eyes were bloodshot, sleepless. Every creak of the old church, every gust of wind rattling the shutters, had his head snapping up.
He couldn't rest. Not while the hunters knew where they were. Not while Bob's warnings still echoed in his skull.
He tightened his grip on the blade's hilt, staring at the door.
They were out there. Watching. Waiting.
And Joe was ready.