At the point where the waterfall came into view, we stopped for a few minutes. The roar of rushing water filled the air. With each passing second, Daryl and Carol's expressions tightened, worry edging into panic.
"They should be here by now. Where are they, Carol? Didn't you say they'd be waiting for us?" His eyes scanned the distance, sharp and restless, searching for any sign of movement.
"Both Maggie and Glenn said they'd be here. Let's just wait a few more minutes," Carol said, though her voice lacked conviction. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to hold the anxiety in.
"I just hope they're not in trouble… especially in this damn weather."
A few more minutes passed. The wind picked up, carrying a damp chill deeper into our bones. Still, no one appeared.
"I think something's wrong. We should go look for them before it's too late," Carol finally said, her voice tightening as she turned to Daryl.
"Do you know where they went?"
Carol hesitated. Her lips parted, then pressed together again, as if weighing the consequences.
"They… went toward an abandoned coal mine to gather coal for the winter."
Daryl's face hardened instantly, frustration flashing across his eyes.
"Rick and I told all of you not to go there. That place is crawling with walkers. Why would you let them do something so stupid?"
"What choice do we have?" Carol shot back, her composure cracking. "Winter's coming. We don't have enough fuel to survive, so I didn't tell you."
"Damn it!" he snapped, dropping the pig's body with a wet thud onto the ground as we headed toward the abandoned mine.
"Why not gather wood for the winter?" I asked, wanting to understand their situation.
Carol shook her head. "We tried. But it's difficult. Cutting trees makes too much noise...it draws walkers. And even if we manage to gather wood, if it isn't dried for months, burning it creates too much smoke, which attracts even more unwanted attention… from walkers and people alike. So we started using wooden furniture instead. It's easier to collect, but now even that's running out."
Just as I thought.
They hadn't cleared the walkers around their base...it was too dangerous. Instead, they used them as both a defense and a deterrent. But that meant they were always living on the edge, surrounded by the dead.
"You shouldn't have done that," Daryl muttered, walking ahead, his boots crunching against wet leaves. "Rick's working with the Woodbury community to fix this. You should've waited."
"We waited for a month," Carol replied, her voice low and strained. "But nothing happened. And if the talks fail…" She exhaled shakily. "We need something to fall back on."
Her hands twisted together as she stared at Daryl's back, but he didn't respond. His silence said enough.
Suddenly, a woman burst from the woods, branches snapping behind her.
"Help!"
Daryl caught her before she collapsed. "Maggie… what happened? Where's Glenn?" His grip tightened as his eyes darted past her, searching.
"What happened?" Carol asked, stepping closer, her gaze sweeping over Maggie's scraped skin and torn clothes.
Maggie struggled to breathe, her chest heaving. "Th-there's no time… Glenn needs help," she gasped, clutching Daryl's arm with trembling fingers.
We ran.
"What happened? Is Glenn okay?" Daryl asked, keeping pace beside her.
"After gathering coal, we ran into a pack of dogs," Maggie said, her words stumbling over each other. "We tried to get away, but Glenn… he fell… broke his leg. We hid in an abandoned house. I left him there… I had to… I ran for help." Her voice cracked. "We have to hurry."
We picked up speed. The forest blurred around us, branches clawing at our clothes. Carol said nothing, but her breathing grew uneven, her jaw clenched tight. Daryl's face was set in stone, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.
"That's the house!" Maggie shouted.
An old, rotting structure loomed ahead. Walkers surrounded it, their gray hands slamming against the walls with dull, relentless thuds. Low, guttural groans mixed with sharp, relentless barking... dogs deliberately drawing more walkers in.
"Fucking dogs," Daryl cursed.
"Come on! We have to move before they break in!" Maggie cried, desperation rising.
But Daryl and Carol didn't move.
"What are you waiting for? We need to save him!" Her voice broke.
"Maggie, listen to me," Carol said, gripping her shoulders firmly. "We can't rush in like that. We'll all die."
"We can't just stand here and do nothing! Do something!" Tears welled in Maggie's eyes, her gaze locked on the house.
"Calm down… breathe," Carol said, softer now, though her own hands trembled.
Daryl studied the scene, his eyes narrowing. "There aren't too many walkers… we might be able to draw them away with noise. Problem is the dogs… they won't let us."
He turned to me. "Max, if you don't mind, can I use your rifle?" It sounded like a request, but his eyes told a different story.
"Here. Thirty rounds."
Maggie's eyes flicked to me and the priest for the first time, confusion cutting through her panic.
"Thanks. That's enough to take down the dogs and pull the walkers away," Daryl said. "As soon as I start shooting, you move in and get Glenn out."
"That's too dangerous. Let me come with you," Carol said, her voice tight… almost pleading.
"You stay here," Daryl replied. "You've done enough."
The words hit harder than he intended. Carol flinched, just slightly.
Then he was gone.
I watched it all with a faint smile.
About fifteen dogs were moving toward the house...too far for the others to notice. Even I had to focus to make them out clearly. There were more coming. More dogs than the bullets Daryl had.
I could help.
Easily.
But things that come too easily are rarely valued.
So, I waited.
The priest stood beside me, unmoving, still scribbling into his notebook as if none of this mattered. His calm bordered on absurd.
He trusted me completely.
I wondered how long that would last.
I let out a quiet laugh.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
The shots cracked through the forest, sharp and deafening even amidst the rain.
"That's our signal!" Maggie shouted.
We ran.
Rain slicked the ground beneath our feet, mud clinging to our boots. The walkers had begun to drift toward the gunfire, their groans fading slightly as we approached the house. We cut down the few that remained...wet, heavy impacts echoing with each strike.
"Glenn! It's me...I'm here with help! Open the door!" Maggie shouted, pounding on it.
The door creaked open.
Glenn stood there, pale and sweating, his leg swollen and twisted unnaturally.
"Glenn, I'm here. Let's go… quickly."
"Ahh!… shit, I thought I was dead," he groaned, relief and pain mixing in his voice.
"Priest, stop writing and pick him up."
He nodded without hesitation, lifting Glenn onto his back with surprising steadiness.
We moved.
"Who are they?" Glenn asked weakly, glancing at us.
"We need to move," Carol said sharply.
Then—
The barking of more dogs.
Loud. Close.
Carol froze.
"Oh no… Daryl!"
She turned.
In the distance, Daryl was surrounded—dogs lunging, walkers closing in, the sound of snapping jaws and gunfire blending into chaos.
"I have to help him," she said, her voice breaking.
"Carol, don't… it's no use!" Maggie grabbed her arm.
"I have to!" Tears streamed down her face now. "I can't just watch him die!"
"Damn it… this is my fault," Glenn muttered, guilt etched into every word.
They all felt it... the helplessness, the weight of it.
Good.
This was the moment.
I drew my sword and sprinted forward.
"Come back! What are you doing?" Maggie shouted.
"Max, stop!" Carol yelled.
I didn't stop.
The world narrowed.
I cut through the walkers like grass, carving a path straight ahead. Limbs flew and bodies dropped. I forced my way through until I reached Daryl.
He stood with his back to a tree, breath ragged, firing at the dogs circling him.
"What the hell are you doing here, kid?" he shouted.
I didn't answer.
A dog lunged... its teeth bared, eyes wild.
I cut it down midair.
Another followed.
I slowed just enough to miss by inches.
Let it look close.
"I'm here for you. Let's go."
We moved together, step by step, fighting through the chaos. The dogs snarled, snapping at our heels, their bodies tense with hunger and aggression.
Then—
Click.
Daryl was out of bullets.
We kept moving, killing any that got too close.
Then, suddenly, the dogs stopped.
They lingered at the edge of the trees… then turned back.
Gone.
Daryl bent forward, hands on his knees, dragging in air. "Kid… that was stupid," he said between breaths. "But… thanks. You saved my ass."
He glanced back toward the waterfall, his jaw tightening.
"The others'll be waiting. Let's go."
I nodded, slowing my breathing, masking everything beneath a thin layer of exhaustion.
No need to show him everything.
Not yet.