Daryl had barely cleared fifty feet into the trees when the low rumble of an engine rolled through the woods.
He froze, ducking behind a large fallen tree, eyes narrowing as the treeline vibrated with noise.
An all-terrain vehicle ground to a halt after creeping of a hill. A broad man climbed down, his voice carrying like a hammer.
"Let's end this."
Sherry's voice cracked with defiance. "This insulin is ours. We earned it!"
The man barked back, "You're gonna return what you took... and you're gonna pay for the gas we spent tracking your asses down."
Daryl crept closer, AK-47 at the ready.
His gut churned, war pulling against his instincts to walk away.
"This chase is over," the man shouted. "You know the rules."
Sherry screamed back, "Your rules are crazy!"
Dwight stepped forward, trembling but loud. "We're not going back, Wade. We're done kneeling."
Wade's response was a snarl. "Don't change the subject, asshole."
Daryl cursed under his breath. He could leave. He could vanish into the trees.
But he didn't. He slipped from cover, bolting toward them.
"Move!" he growled, grabbing Sherry's arm and shoving Dwight forward.
He herded them into the woods, ducking low behind a giant fallen stump.
Daryl shoved a pistol into Dwight's hands. "Make yourself useful."
Dwight blinked, startled, then gripped the weapon.
For the first time, something cracked in his eyes. He looked at Daryl differently.
Through the gaps in the bark, they watched Wade's men fan out, rifles sweeping the treeline.
A lone scout drifted near. Just as he crossed a narrow rock outcrop, a walker lunged... half-pinned between stone and tree, but strong enough.
It's teeth sank into the man's arm. He screamed bloody murder.
"Wade! I'm bit!"
Wade strode over with cold efficiency, pulled a belt tight around the man's bicep, then raised a machete.
Chop!
The arm hit the ground, blood spraying the leaves. The man shrieked, collapsing into Wade's grip.
"Time to head back," Wade barked into his radio.
A voice crackled back: "What about..."
"He only wants assets that are willing," Wade cut him off. His tone never wavered. "Cam's got a booboo. We're done."
They hauled the screaming man into the ATV. The engine roared, and just like that, they were gone.
The woods fell silent.
Dwight exhaled, shaken. He looked at Daryl, voice rough. "We thought you were with them. I tried to kill you, we tied you up… Why the hell did you come back?"
Daryl groaned, rifle lowering. "Maybe I'm stupid too."
Suddenly...
Hahaha.
The laugh was deep, cold, and close.
Dwight spun, pistol raised, but froze when he saw the M4 barrel pressed steady between his eyes.
Joe stood in the shadows, grinning like death itself.
"Ain't that the truth."
Joe shoved Dwight back against the stump, M4 digging into his chest.
"Talk," he said flatly. "How many? Where do they sleep? Where do they eat? I want it all."
Dwight's jaw tightened. "They move around. Camps here and there. Numbers change. Hard to say."
Too quick. Too vague. Joe's eyes narrowed.
"You're holding back."
"I told you what I know," Dwight snapped, defiant.
Joe shifted the muzzle just enough so it angled toward Sherry and Tina.
Sherry stiffened, clutching her sister tight, eyes wide with terror.
"I don't care about you, Dwight," Joe said quietly, voice colder than steel. "But them? They're leverage. If I put a round through one of their heads, maybe you'll remember more."
Dwight's mask cracked. "Don't you touch them."
Joe pressed closer. "Then make yourself useful."
Daryl stepped forward, crossbow lowered but voice low, rough. "Joe… ease off. He's talkin'. You don't gotta scare the hell outta them."
Joe didn't look back. "This isn't about scaring her. It's about making him honest." His tone was final, immovable.
Daryl exhaled through his nose, jaw tight, but he didn't argue again. He just went quiet, standing off to the side, rifle resting at his hip.
The silence stretched heavy until Dwight finally cracked, voice raw.
"They've got outposts," he admitted. "Warehouses. Satellite camps. Always armed, always watching the roads. Wade's nothing... just a runner. Middle management at best. The real boss, the one they follow…"
He swallowed hard. "…that's Negan."
The name hung in the clearing like smoke.
Joe's grin faded, all business now. "Better. But if I find out you're still holding back, I'll make sure you watch them die before I put you down."
Dwight's silence said everything.
Joe lowered the rifle slightly but didn't holster it. "You're coming with us. Under watch. Try anything…"
He glanced at Sherry and Tina, eyes dead cold. "…and I'll make good on my word."
Daryl said nothing, just tightened his grip on the crossbow. His face was unreadable, but inside he was burning.
...
The forest had barely settled after Dwight spoke Negan's name when Tina suddenly broke free from Sherry's grip.
"I can't... I can't do this!" she cried, bolting through the trees.
"Tina!" Sherry shouted, chasing after her. Dwight cursed under his breath and followed.
Joe and Daryl exchanged a sharp look before moving after them, boots crunching ash and dead leaves.
They found Tina up ahead, running full tilt until she stumbled across a sagging, burnt-out shack.
Its frame was blackened, half-collapsed, the air still reeking faintly of ash even after all these months.
Tina pushed through the splintered doorway. Sherry froze just outside, her face draining of color. "Oh no… Tina, not here."
Dwight's voice was a rasp. "She knows this place."
Inside, Tina collapsed to her knees.
Two charred bodies lay fused to the floor, skeletal arms half-burnt but unmistakably human.
Tina sobbed, reaching toward them. "We… we knew them. I can't..."
Suddenly, the corpses moved.
Bony hands clamped onto Tina's arms. Blackened jaws snapped open, lunging for her throat.
Sherry screamed. Dwight shouted. Daryl jerked his crossbow up but didn't get the angle in time.
Pfft. Pfft.
Two suppressed shots cracked like whispers.
Both walkers' skulls snapped back, chunks spraying across the soot-black floor. The corpses slumped still, arms sliding off Tina's shoulders.
Everyone turned.
Joe stood in the doorway, M4 still raised, suppressor smoking. His eyes burned cold under the shadow of his brow.
"You die when I say you die."
The words hit harder than the gunfire. Tina sobbed, clutching at Sherry as she pulled her sister away from the corpses.
Dwight stared, half-grateful, half-terrified. Daryl just watched Joe, face grim and unreadable.
Joe lowered the rifle but kept it in his hands, voice even, calm as stone. "Get up. We're leaving... Now!"
Tina shook, getting up quickly. Sherry holding her hand tightly.
The group trudged through the charred forest, ash clinging to their boots. Each step they took caused some ash to fly into the air.
Daryl frowned, realizing the story of them setting the forest ablaze at the beginning was a lie.
'There's no way there would still be loose ash on the ground after all this time.'
Joe kept them moving in silence, rifle never straying from their backs.
Daryl slowed, eyes narrowing at something tucked under a pile of scorched branches. "Hold up."
He moved closer, brushing the debris aside.
A massive fuel truck loomed out of the shadows, its red paint blistered but intact.
The logo stamped across its side was still legible through the soot, "Patrick Fuel."
Dwight froze, whispering under his breath. "Patty."
Tina gasped and stumbled forward, Sherry following quick, both staring up at the tanker like it was salvation.
Through the dust-smeared window, a figure slumped in the driver's seat. A woman, skin gray and rotted, a ragged bite mark chewed deep into her arm.
Daryl yanked the door open. The walker stirred with a groan, lunging weakly...
Thwip!
The crossbow bolt buried deep in her skull. She dropped limp. Daryl hauled her body out, letting it hit the dirt with a dull thud.
He slid into the seat, turned the ignition. The engine coughed, then rumbled to life. "Runs."
Sherry's eyes shone. "Patty still works."
Joe's expression didn't shift. He stepped forward, slammed the butt of his M4 across Dwight's temple.
Dwight crumpled to the dirt. Sherry shrieked, Tina tried to scramble back but Joe was faster.
One by one, he clubbed them down, catching them before they could hit the ground too hard.
Daryl turned in his seat, startled. "Joe..."
Joe pulled black canvas bags from his pack, slipping them over their heads with practiced ease. "We're not parading liabilities through Alexandria's front gate wide awake." His tone was flat, final.
Daryl's jaw worked, but he stayed silent.
Joe cinched the bags, and then helped toss the three captives into the tanker's cab, then stepped back.
"Drive it. Leave the bike for now. We'll collect it later."
Daryl hesitated, then nodded. He shifted gears, the tanker groaning as it rolled out of the clearing.
Joe climbed onto his motorcycle, engine roaring to life. He fell in line behind them, eyes scanning the tree line.
Behind the veil of canvas bags, Dwight's group stirred faintly, bound, gagged, and utterly powerless.
And Joe didn't look back once.
...
The drive back was long, engines rumbling against the silence of the woods.
Daryl led in the tanker, hands tight on the wheel, eyes flicking every few seconds to the unconscious shapes slumped in the back.
Joe followed close on his bike, his silhouette framed in the rearview mirror like a shadow that wouldn't break.
By the time the convoy rolled up to Alexandria's gate, the sun had sunk low, bleeding orange into the horizon.
Sarah was on watch, rifle in hand. She started to wave them through but froze when Joe motioned her down with a sharp shake of his head.
"Not a word," Joe ordered.
His voice carried enough weight that Sarah just nodded and hit the release without question.
Inside the gate, Joe guided Daryl toward one of the storage buildings tucked on the edge of the community.
He dismounted his bike and killed the engine.
"Keep it quiet," Joe said.
Rick and Deanna were already waiting, both tense from Joe's earlier radio call.
Rick's eyes went straight to the tanker, then to the slumped, hooded figures Daryl and Joe were hauling out.
"Who the hell are they?" Rick asked.
Joe yanked Dwight's hood tighter before answering. "Runners. Ex-Saviors. Slipped the leash, thought they could run away. Almost got Daryl killed."
Deanna's face hardened. "And you brought them here?"
"They've got intel," Joe said flatly. "Names, camps, numbers. And if they're lying..."
His gaze was ice. "We'll find out quick enough."
Rick looked between Joe and Daryl. Daryl's jaw was tight, but he stayed quiet, giving only the smallest nod.
Deanna hesitated, then finally gestured toward the storage building. "Fine. Keep them locked up. No one else hears about this until we decide what to do."
Joe dragged Dwight and the women inside, securing them with rope and locking the door behind him.
When he stepped back out, his eyes caught the fading light, casting his expression in something colder than ice.
"Good," Joe said simply. "The fewer who know, the better."
Rick exhaled, uneasy. Daryl lit a cigarette with a uneasy hand.
Deanna just stared at the tanker, its engine still ticking, knowing that both the prize and the problem had arrived together.
...
The storage building was dim, the air sharp with dust and oil.
Dwight, Sherry, and Tina sat bound and hooded against the wall, their shallow breaths the only sound from inside.
Outside, Rick, Deanna, Daryl, and Joe stood in a loose circle under the faint glow of a lantern.
Daryl broke first, voice low but steady. "They ain't bad people. They're just runnin'. I saw it, Joe... they gave insulin to that girl. They ain't the enemy."
Joe's gaze cut toward him, hard. "Runnin'? That's one way to spin it." He pointed back toward the building.
"I saw your tracks, beaten down. A bullet one twitch away from your skull. That's what 'not bad people' did to you."
Daryl's jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
Rick stepped in, arms crossed. "We can't take the risk. If they turn on us inside these walls, it's not just us that pays. It's everyone here."
Deanna raised a hand, voice calm but firm. "No one said anything about hurting them. We won't. They don't even know where they are. But if they've lived under this… This Savior group, then they've seen things. They've heard things. They can tell us more."
Joe studied her for a long moment, then gave a sharp nod. "Fine. They don't have to die. But I'll get the locations of their camps. One way... or another. Once we've got that, we start scouting."
Deanna let out a heavy sigh, rubbing her hands together. "Fine. Just... don't make me regret lettin' you take the lead here. This group don't sound friendly, not one damn bit."
Joe scoffed internally, 'You don't "let" me do anything.'
Rick glanced at Joe, then at Deanna. "Friendly or not, if they're out there, we'll be ready."
The lantern flickered, shadows stretching across their faces.
Behind the door, Dwight's group sat in uneasy silence