“Hey? You alive in there?”

The black box squealed like a dying pig and Glenn whipped it away from his mouth, wincing. Jon was about to cover his ears when it stopped and crackled like the embers of a healthy fire. Somehow, Rick’s voice spoke from the box.

“Hello?! Hello?!”

Glenn returned the box to his mouth, grinning.

“There you are, you had me wondering,” Glenn said.

“Where are you? Are you outside? Can you see me right now?”

“Yeah, I can see you. You’re surrounded by walkers, that’s the bad news. Good news is, the kid’s fine. I’ve got him right here, sword and all.”

Rick’s panicked breathing slowed and the box crackled in place of silence.

“How does this work?” Jon asked.

Glenn gave him a mere side glance.

“Magic,” he muttered before snapping his attention back to the tank.

Plainly, the man thought Jon a fool but given the current circumstance, he thought it best not to argue. Rick’s voice spoke through the box again with a newly acquired sharp, stern tone.

“Listen whoever you are, I appreciate you helpin’ the boy, but I don’t mind tellin’ you I’m a little concerned in here.”

“Oh boy, you should see it from here. You’d be having a major freakout,” Glenn laughed.

“You got any advice for me?”

Glenn paused.

“Yeah, I’d say make a run for it.”

Not the most helpful advice, Jon thought. He offered his hand to Glenn.

“May I?” He asked.

“Be my guest.”

Glenn handed him the box and Jon studied it. Each time Glenn had spoken, Jon had seen him press a button on the side. So, Jon did the same and sure enough, the box crackled at him. He had studied the disastrous scene before him. The dead were clumped up around the tank, but only some. Most were squabbling over the horse. It had fallen in its panic and been overrun, like ants to fallen food.

“Rick, this is Jon. The dead are gathered around the remains of your horse. If you get a running start, you might be able to leap from the top of the tank over the hoard.”

The box crackled for a moment before Rick answered.

“Can you see the bag of guns I had?”

“Yes. It is lost. Abandon it.”

More crackling followed.

“Are you sure?”

“I am. Retrieving the guns will get you killed.”

The third bout of crackling came about but it was short.

“Okay, I’m comin’ out.”

As they waited for Rick to emerge, Jon studied Glenn. He looked like no man he’d ever seen before. He had olive skin and narrow eyes with jet black hair. The features of his face were thin and narrow.

“Where do your people hail from?” Jon asked.

“Uh… Korea?”

“So you are from Korea… and where is that?”

“My grandparents are from Korea. I’m from Georgia,” Glenn’s tone became harsh.

“I see. My apologies. I meant you no offence. I am a stranger in your world, so I’d be grateful if you’d help me understand it.”

Glenn turned his body to face him completely. He stared at Jon with a puzzled look for half a heartbeat before shaking his head and chuckling.

“No problem, dude. Or should I say, sir?”

“You think me mad, don’t you?”

Glenn shrugged.

“We’ve all gone a little crazy, I don’t hold it against you.”

“I am not.”

“Of course not.”

Jon turned his attention back to the tank. Many had thought him mad and incompetent before, but it did not change the fact he was not. Swaying Glenn with words was fruitless, so instead, he’d let his actions speak. He would see, as they all did. Jon, out of instinct, lowered his hand to rest upon Ghost’s head. When his hand passed through the empty air his stomach churned with yearning. He would return home, Jon promised. To Ghost, to his men and to The Wall. Suddenly, Glenn’s voice interrupted his contemplation.

“So, how’d you get the scar?”

Just as Jon was about to answer, a hatch on top of the tank popped open and Rick clambered out. He held his gun in one hand and a walkie in the other. Rick slammed the hilt of his gun into a walker’s head beside the hatch. The walker dropped at once and fell limp to the ground. A few walkers peeled away from the horse and joined the thin ring around the tank. They reached and clawed at the air, eyes locked on Rick.

“Which way do I jump?” Rick asked.

Jon leaned forward and looked up for the sun.

“North.”

Rick looked around.

“Alright!”

Rick leapt from the tank and hit the ground hard. He lay still for a moment before struggling to his feet. As he did, the hoard peeled away from the horse and shambled towards him. Rick took off, half limping, half running as he unloaded booming explosions from his gun. Walkers toppled before him, clearing a path.

Glenn grabbed Jon’s arm and yanked.

“Come on! We gotta meet him down there!”

“Right!”

Jon and Glenn took off back down the stairs. Glenn readied his gun and Jon drew Longclaw as they burst back into the alley. Rick appeared at the chain gate and aimed his gun at them.

“Whoa! Not dead, come on!” Glenn waved him in.

Jon charged past Rick as he scurried through the gate and fell two walkers with a high swing as they tried to follow. Decapitated, they fell at the gate’s entrance, tripping the rest of the walkers who tried to follow them. Jon hurried back to an awaiting Glenn. He was at the end of the alley, standing beneath a yellow ladder that Rick was already climbing.

“What are you doing? Come on!” Glenn yelled as he took the ladder.

Jon did the same and thankfully the hoard had been delayed just enough to allow him to clamber out of arm’s reach before it descended on the base of the ladder. His thick furs and heavy mail, as well as juggling Longclaw between each rung, made the climb hard, but climb he did anyway. After all, he’d climbed worse. He joined Rick and Glenn on a grated, steel platform at the top of the ladder and three men leaned against the rail gasping for air. Glenn looked at them both on either side of him.

“So, a sheriff and a knight. What are you guys some kind of comedy duo or something? Here to clean up the town and save the fair maiden?”

“No, we’re not-” Jon began.

“It wasn’t my intention to put you in danger,” Rick said.

“Yeah whatever, yeeha. You’re both still dumbasses.”

At least this man spoke plainly, Jon supposed. Rick offered a hand to Glenn.

“Rick, and this is Jon.”

Glenn shook his hand.

“Glenn. And yeah, we’ve met,” Glenn flashed Jon a grin, “showed him some magic.”

“It is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Your sorceress must be powerful.”

Rick and Glenn gave him a unified look of bewilderment before collapsing into stifled laughter. Jon grinned and allowed himself a chuckle. No one was dead, and all were merry, what was the price of a little mockery in the face of such alternatives?

The platform began to shake. Below one of the walkers had managed to start climbing the ladder and the rest were fighting to be next. All three of them looked upwards to the top of the ladder looming above them, then back to each other, expressions solemn.

“Well, on the bright side, it’ll be the fall that kills us,” Glenn said.

Jon sheathed Longclaw and took to the ladder.

“Let’s just get it over with,” he said.

The group’s silence suggested agreement as they made their way up the side of the stone tower’s steel ladder. After a long, tenuous climb they stood on the flat roof of the tower’s top. While it was undeniably huge, it was still incomparable to the giants around them. As they crossed between rooftops, Rick broke their silence.

“You the one who barricaded the alley?”

“Somebody did,” Glenn answered.

He began to run so Rick and Jon chased after him.

“I guess when the city got overrun, whoever did it was thinking not many geeks could get through.”

Glenn stopped at a hatch in the roof and began to hoist it open. Rick and Jon joined him, taking a side of the large steel square each.

“Why’d you stick your neck out for us?” Rick asked.

Jon awaited his answer intently. What Glenn said here could tell Jon a great deal about him, most likely all he would need to know going forth.

“Call it foolish naive hope that if I’m ever that far up shit’s creek, somebody might do the same for me.”

Glenn tossed down his bag and began to climb inside but Jon caught his arm.

“We could have hurt you, killed you and taken everything you have. Why risk that?” Jon asked.

“Why would anyone go out of their way to kill each other when the dead are trying to kill us all?”

Jon let go. Although they called him boy, it was plain who the real child was. While brave, Jon knew relying too heavily on Glenn would be a mistake. Regardless, he followed him down into the hatch and watched the dark void below with wary caution.

They dropped down from the ladder into decrepit halls of faded walls and rotted carpet. A strange light made of two tubes, swung from strange coloured string, shooting sparks. Glenn rushed forward, ushering Rick and Jon through the rot. They entered a stairwell of grey smooth stone and Glenn spoke hurriedly into his walkie as they descended.

“I’m back! Got two guests, there’s a hoard in the alley!”

Glenn suddenly stopped and lowered the walkie. Two walkers shambled towards them at the bottom of the stairs. Rick reached for his gun and Jon touched Longclaw’s hilt when a door behind the walkers sprung open. Two warriors clad in bulky, dark armour wielding thin clubs rushed the walkers from behind and beat their heads to a pulp.

“Let’s go!” Glenn shouted and rushed past them.

Rick and Jon chased Glenn through the doorway. The two warriors shouted behind them and hurried back through the door. They slammed the door shut. As soon as Jon stepped foot inside, he was thrown back against the wall and had a gun shoved into his face by a blonde woman. A fire raged in her eyes.

“You sons of bitches, I ought to kill you!” She yelled.

Rick stepped forward and swiftly the gun turned on him. Jon remained still and removed all expression from his face. Sudden movements would do nothing to help him here.

“Cut it out Andrea,” one of the warriors said as he flung off his padded helmet.

“Come on, ease up,” a woman with short hair and dark skin said.

“Ease up? You’re kidding me, right? We’re dead because of these stupid assholes!”

The second warrior flung off his helm, the broad features of his dark-skinned face were fraught with concern. Nervous glances darted around the small group. Rick backed up as far as he could, and when he could go no further he leaned backwards over a stack of boxes, eyes wide. The first warrior marched up to Andrea’s side and loomed over her shoulder.

“Andrea! I said back the hell off!” He hissed.

Andrea’s breathing became rapid and tears filled her eyes. Jon stepped forward, taking the attention of the gun away from Rick.

“Your enemy is outside, not in here. Save your strength for the fight to come,” he said.

Andrea whimpered and her arm dropped. She retreated with a sob.

“We’re dead. All of us. Because of you.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Rick said, joining Jon’s side.

The first warrior, a plump man with scraggly facial hair yanked Rick’s arm and led him away. The warrior with broad features grabbed Jon’s arm and did the same.

“Look,” spat the first warrior, “we came into the city to scavenge supplies. You know what the key to scavenging is? Surviving. You know what the key to surviving is? Sneaking in and out. Tiptoeing, not shooting up the streets!”

They were brought into a large expansive room full of rows of clothing. The clothes hung from metal racks in clusters, and spaces in between allowed for walkways. Not too unlike the markets Jon had seen as a boy. Although the markets of Winterfell had never been so rotted. The second warrior shoved Jon towards a wall of glass.

“Every geek for miles heard you poppin’ off rounds!” The second warrior shouted.

“You just rang the dinner bell,” Andrea said.

Beyond the glass, the dead were piled up against the windows, banging and hollering. Luckily, iron bars fortified the glass and it did not break. However, the banging was only getting louder and no matter how sturdy the iron was, the glass was slowly beginning to crack with each successive bang. The group gasped and hurried back. Rick followed by Jon remained. Someone tried to grasp his shoulder but he shook them off. He stared down his foe, watched as they slammed fists and rocks against the glass, and allowed not an inkling of fear to flow through him.

“This is it? Are you all so craven that few shambling corpses have you sobbing and bickering like children?!”

His voice boomed, encouraging the dead to whip up into a frenzy of howling and groaning. Wide eyes and hung jaws answered him. Jon drew Longclaw and held it up for them all to see.

“They are dead! They are slow and stupid! A hundred of them are worth one of us! So rather than cowering and arguing amongst ourselves, let us take the fight to them and take our freedom with gun and blade!”

No one said a thing. They all looked amongst each other before the second warrior elected to step forward.

“Man, you’re fuckin’ crazy.”

“Kid, let the adults handle this okay? This isn’t some fucking game,” Andrea said.

“And what do you propose?!” Jon snapped.

Andrea’s and the warrior’s hands tightened around their weapons.

“I don’t know,” Andrea spoke slowly, her tone venom, “but charging out there on some suicidal fantasy bullshit is just going to get us all killed.”

Jon took a deep breath. His anger was getting the better of him. These people, this land, it had clearly been too prosperous for its own good. They clearly had never faced real hardship before. He had called them warriors, but no. These people, with perhaps the exception of Rick, were children. And when it comes to children, calm and reason win out over yelling. So, he spoke plainly.

“There are eight of us. If we work together we can clear a path through them and make it to clear ground.”

“You- You’re acting as if these things aren’t fucking killing machines! One bite, hell even a scratch and you’re done for!” Andrea’s eyes darted around Jon’s face before suddenly freezing on his eye.

Her gun was pointing at him once again.

“How did you get that cut?”

“Andrea-” Glenn started.

“No! Answer me! How did you get that cut?!”

Jon thought about his answer carefully and decided on a half-truth.

“I was attacked, by the living, not the dead. Look at it, the wound is not weeping.”

A part of Jon suspected Andrea did not want to see however she proved him wrong by lowering her gun. Before any more shouting could resume, the first warrior stepped in between them.

“You’re wrong, there aren’t eight of us. There are nine. We have another man up on the roof. Before we do anything, let’s meet up with him. Okay, kid?”

“Alright,” Jon conceded.

The rumble of thunder roared throughout the building. No, Jon was mistaken, it was a gunshot but a gunshot far more powerful than any he’d heard before. Everyone’s eyes went to the ceiling and the second warrior groaned.

“Crazy-ass redneck!”

“Is that Dixon?” Andrea asked.

“Who’s Dixon?” Rick asked.

“Number nine,” The woman with dark skin said.

The group hurried off and Jon sheathed his sword before following after. However, Rick stopped him and spoke with a hushed hiss of a whisper.

“Look, you’re not wrong. But these people are scared, you need to calm down.”

“Yes, it was my mistake. They are children I realise that now.”

“No, they’re adults. They’re reasonable and intelligent if you just give them a chance. Remember, they saved us.”

Jon begrudgingly supposed that was true as he followed Rick and the others up yet another stairwell.

“The hell were you two even doing out there, to begin with?” The second warrior asked.

“Looking for my son and wife.”

“Sorry, man. Hope you find them.”

“Thanks. Name’s Rick, this is Jon.”

“T-Dog. You’ve already met Glenn and Andrea. The big guy is Morales and up ahead is Jacqui.”

“And this Dixon? Who is he?” Jon asked.

“Redneck bastard called Merle. Always up to some shit, never anything good.”

The names of this land were odd, but Jon supposed he had heard far worse.

They burst through a door at the top of the stairwell and found a man standing on the edge of the roof. He was aiming what Jon could only assume was a gun, but it was far longer than the ones he’d seen up until now. It was the length of Merle’s arm and with each shot, it erupted with so much fury that it kicked back against him.

“Dixon! Are you crazy?!” Morales yelled.

Merle cackled and hopped down the ledge he’d been perched on.

“Whoa! You ought to be more polite to a man with a gun!”

Merle laid eyes upon Jon and his rugged face twisted into a gleaming smirk.

“Holy shit! We got ourselves a god damn, fucking knight in shining armour! And,” he looked to Rick, “Mr Officer Friendly himself! Say, kid, why don’t you go on and gimme that sword? I wanna get out there and cut some god damn heads off!”

At first, Jon took it as a jape but then Merle approached him, hand outstretched. He smirked, but it was a look of madness, not jest. T-Dog interrupted by rushing him.

“What the hell man?! You wasting bullets we ain’t even got, man! And you’re bringin’ more of em down here on our asses man! Just chill!”

“Hey!” Merle laughed. “Bad enough I got this taco-bender on my ass all day! Now I’m gonna take orders from you? I don’t think so, bro. That’ll be the day.”

“That’ll be the day? You got somethin’ you wanna tell me?!”

“T-Dog man, just leave it,” Morales said.

“No!”

“It ain’t worth it. Now Merle, just relax, okay? We got enough trouble.”

Merle wrinkled his nose and took a step towards T-Dog. Jon had seen that look before. The look many of his brothers shared when the freefolk stood before them as guests for the first time.

“You wanna know the day?” He asked.

“Yeah!” T-Dog yelled.

“I’ll tell you the day, Mr Yo! It’s the day I take orders from a nigger.”

“Oh man, what the hell!”

T-Dog lunged and swung a fist but Merle parried with his gun and slammed the thick end into T-Dog’s head. T-Dog stumbled back and Merle tossed away the gun to approach the clenched fists. The whole group sprung into action around Jon. They rushed the ensuing brawl, shouting and clambering to break the two men apart. However, in Jon’s experience, it was better to let men fight and separate them after, once they were tired rather than risk getting caught up in the brawl yourself. So while everyone scrambled, he watched from afar. Merle beat T-Dog, slamming his face, dodging the counter and slamming his face again. Rick rushed in and grabbed Merle but Merle shook him off and sent him to the ground. He grabbed the back of T-Dog’s shirt and slammed his head against a steel pipe, splattering it with blood. Blood gushed from T-Dog’s nose as he lay on his back, dazed and confused. While Merle lay into him and Rick struggled to his feet, Jon strode over to the conflict and approached Merle from behind. He gave him a good shove and sent him sprawling. Rick rushed in and leapt on top of Merle, brandishing some kind of restraint. A metal cuff clicked around Merle’s wrist and then its twin, linked by a chain, clicked around the pipe. Merle reached for a gun in his pocket so Jon stepped on his wrist and he screamed.

“What the hell?! Who the hell are you?!”

“Officer Friendly,” Rick growled and shoved Merle back against the pipe.

Jon lifted his boot and Rick snatched the gun from Merle’s pocket. Behind them, Glenn, Andrea and Jacqui cradled T-Dog in their arms while Morales still stood looking ready for a fight. T-Dog’s face was a swollen, bloody mess. Weeping cuts littered his face. Blood gushed from his nose and split lip. His eye was swollen shut, darkening his already dark skin. Rick began dismantling and rebuilding Merle’s gun with moves so practised he didn’t even need to watch his hands.

“Look Merle, things are different now. There are no, niggers, anymore,” Rick’s face twisted with disgust as repeated that strange word, “Only dark meat and white meat. There’s us and the dead. We survive this by pulling together, not apart.”

“Screw you, man…” Merle said.

“I can see you make a habit of missing the point.”

“Yeah? Well, screw you twice.”

Rick scowled and put the gun against Merle’s head.

“You ought to be polite to a man with a gun.”

“Rick,” Jon snapped. “Do not make that threat idly.”

The thunder on Rick’s face cleared. He blinked, looked at the gun and lowered it with a shake of his head. Merle curled his lip at Jon, looked him up and down, and then scowled at Rick.

“You. You’re a cop.”

“All I am anymore is a man looking for his wife and son. Anyone that gets in the way of that is gonna lose. I’ll give you a moment to think about that.”

Rick began patting Merle all over, only stopping on the pocket of his leather jacket. Which was by far the most normal clothing Jon had seen so far. From it, Rick pulled a small clear bag full of white powder. Rick lifted Merle’s head and looked up his nose before chuckling.

“Still got some in your nose.”

Merle snapped his head away and laughed.

“What are you gonna do, arrest me?”

Rick threw the bag off the roof.

“Hey! What are you doin’ man?! That’s my stuff! God dammit!” Merle pulled on his restraint. “If I get loose you better pray!”

Rick walked away to the edge of the building and Merle carried on yelling, screaming about pigs. Morales followed Rick but Jon attended to T-Dog. He crouched down and lifted his shirt. His chest was bruised. He thought for a moment, remembering the little about medicine he had learned from Maester Aemon.

“Does this hurt?” He felt for T-Dog’s rib and pressed on it.

“A little…”

“It’s not broken. This one?”

They went one by one down the bruise. Miraculously, none were broken.

“Thanks, kid,” T-Dog said.

“Jon, call me Jon.”

“Sorry. Jon.”

“You have medical training?” Andrea asked.

“I’m no maester, but I know enough for basic treatment.”

Andrea looked him up and down and shook her head.

“What the hell is with you? Are you crazy? Like really, did you lose your mind or something?”

“Andrea…” Glenn groaned and grabbed her arm.

She shook him off.

“No! I want an answer. You’re acting like you’re some fantasy hero! I get you’re a kid but you’re still too old for shit like this.”

Glenn retook her arm and whispered with a hiss.

“Look. If pretending makes it easier for the kid to deal, so what? Just let it go.”

“You think I’m crazy. Fine, think that. There’s nothing I can say to sway you on the matter, plainly. But at least listen to my plan. Sitting idly will only get us killed!”

“Oh god! Not the crazy suicide mission again!”

“It is not a suicide mission. It is our only option. Fight or die.”

“The kid’s right!” Merle yelled.

“Shut up Merle!” Jon yelled.

Merle spat and grinned.

“I want to fight,” Jacqui said.

She glanced down at T-Dog and her resolve hardened on her face. Andrea gave her a pained look but before she could speak, Glenn did.

“He’s right. We can’t just sit on the roof, Andrea. Maybe if we can get to the van-”

“And what if one of gets bit? Who shoulders that? Are you really prepared to let other people die for you Glenn?”

“If anyone dies. It will be my fault,” Jon said.

“No shit.”

“I will atone in any way you see fit.”

Andrea buried her face into her hands and screamed.

“It’s not about that! Oh god, don’t you see?! You’re talking about lives like, like, like their chess pieces! These are people’s lives! People’s. Lives. You can’t just throw them away when things get tough.”

Jon looked at her with pity. He reached out and touched her shoulder.

“Sometimes, the world leaves us little choice.”

Andrea shook him off.

“Crazy bastard…”

Andrea got her feet and went to the roof’s edge. She leaned against the chest-high wall that circled its square perimeter in solemn silence. Jacqui looked back with concern and T-Dog patted her hand.

“Go on. I’m good,” he grunted.

With great effort, he attempted to sit. Jon and Glenn helped him sit up against the wall and Jacqui, once she was sure T-Dog was fine, joined Andrea. T-Dog reached for Glenn’s belt and took the walkie. He fiddled with it in silence, making it crack and buzz. Merle brooded without word and Glenn joined Jon’s side.

“That sword, it’ll get you through. But what about the rest of us?”

“Your guns are far more powerful than any sword.”

“Yeah but we’ve only got so many bullets.”

“Bullets? Oh, yes Rick mentioned little metal things.”

“Dumbass,” Glenn chuckled.

“How many do you have?”

“Maybe enough for 10 or 12 walkers.”

“Then two of you will wear that armour and wield those clubs while the rest huddle in a clump with whatever weapons we can fashion from downstairs.”

Glenn nodded and stared off at the towering, giants around them. Cautiously and a few feet away from Andrea, Jon approached the edge. This tower at least wasn’t so bad. Definitely tall, but nothing compared to The Wall or even Winterfell’s inner turrets. The giants off in the distance still made his stomach churn, however. Beside him, Andrea muttered.

“It’s like Time Square down there.”

Whatever Time Square was, Jon couldn’t imagine it would be pleasant garnering from the dead-filled streets below. Once black and grey, they were now nothing but brown. Rivers of rot. Rick and Morales returned to the group.

“How’s that signal?” Morales asked.

“Like Dixon’s brain. Weak,” T-Dog said.

Merle showed T-Dog his middle finger. Morales sighed.

“Keep trying.”

“Why? There’s nothing they can do. Not a damn thing,” Andrea said.

“Got some people outside the city is all,” Morales said to Rick, “there’s no refugee centre. That’s a pipe dream.”

“Then she’s right, we’re on our own. Up to us to find a way out.” Rick said.

“Well lucky you Officer Friendly, the boy hero here’s got himself a little old plan. Don’t ya, kid?” Merle said.

“Fighting might be our only option,” Rick began.

“No, god-”

“I don’t like it any more than you, Andrea. That’s why we should look at every possible alternative first. How about rather than going through, we go under? The sewers?”

“Oh, man!” Morales pepped up. “Glenn, look into the alley. See any manhole overs?”

Glenn ran to the edge, peeked over and ran back.

“No. Must all be out on the streets where the geeks are.”

“Maybe not,” Jacqui said. “Old buildin’ like this built in the twenties, big structures like this often had drainage tunnels that led into the sewers in case of floodin’ down in the sub-basements.”

“How do you know that?” Glenn asked.

“It’s my job. Was. I worked in the city’s zoning office.”

Jon didn’t pretend to know what half those words meant but he held his tongue, everyone seemed excited enough. So, when the group elected to investigate he joined them. They climbed down the stairs, past their original floor and down even further until the sunlight left them and plunged them into darkness. From their bags, they pulled out small hand-held devices. They were tubes, like detached sword hilts made of some strange shiny material that was neither glass nor metal. On them were switches that when pressed shone a light from the lens on the end. Whatever they were, they lit their path, so Jon decided to call them torches. They were close enough, he supposed. The torches revealed an opening in the stone floor of the basement. A steel ladder lead down towards the opening of a tunnel. They all crowded around and peered inside.

“This is it? You’re sure?” Morales asked.

“I already scoped this place out the last time I was here. It’s the only thing that goes down. But I’ve never gone down it. Who’d want to right?” Glenn said.

“It’s risky,” said Rick.

“But safer than fighting out there. If the dead are down there, we simply retreat back,” Jon said.

“N-No. I’ll check it out,” Glenn said.

“On your own? Don’t be foolish,” Jon said.

“Hate to agree, but no way. I’ll come with you,” Andrea said.

“No way! Not you,” Glenn protested.

“Why not me? Think I can’t?”

Glenn blushed.

“N-No, I didn’t mean…”

“Speak your mind,” Rick said.

Glenn averted his gaze, sighed and spoke.

“Look. Until now, I always came here by myself. In and out. Grab a few things, no problem. First time I bring a group everything goes to hell. No offence. I’m going down this hole, my way. I’m better at this than you. Jon was wrong. We can’t just retreat. It’s tight down there. If I gotta get out I don’t want you all getting jammed up behind me and getting me killed. I’ll take one person.”

Rick stepped forward.

“Not you either. You’ve got Merle’s gun and I’ve seen you shoot. I’d feel better if you were out in those stores covering our ass.” He pointed to Andrea. “You’ve got the only other gun, so you should go with him and Jacqui, no offence but I’ve seen you run. You’re too slow.”

“So, me then?” Morales asked.

He stepped forward, chest puffed.

“No.”

“Why n- you can’t mean.”

“I want Jon. I’ve seen him use that sword, he’s more than capable and plus he’s wearing armour, worst comes to worst he can physically block the geeks while we escape.”

All eyes fell on him.

“You have armour?” Andrea asked.

Jon lifted his furs and cloak to reveal his black mail.

“Where the hell-”

“Castle Black.”

Andrea shot him a scornful look, Morales looked as if he had seen a goblin and Jacqui just laughed.

“And it’s real?” Andrea asked.

“Real enough to stop the dead’s bite.”

“No wonder you were so keen to go out there! You’re not even in any danger!”

Rick stepped in between them. He looked past Jon to Glenn.

“He’s just a kid.”

“He’s old enough. How old are you 16? That’s barely even a kid anymore.”

“Ten and seven…”

Rick grabbed Glenn’s arm.

“He’s just a kid. Take Morales.”

“No, Glenn is right. I’m the ablest fighter of you all in close quarters, I’m the best choice.”

“Jon-”

“This is not your decision. It is decided.”

Rick considered Jon for a moment before letting go of Glenn’s arm. Glenn looked to Jacqui.

“Something happens, yell for us, we’ll come right back.”

“Got it.”

Rick patted Glenn and Jon’s shoulders.

“Okay. Everybody knows their jobs.”

Glenn gave a small nod, inhaled sharply and popped his torch into his mouth before climbing down the ladder. Jacqui handed Jon her torch and he followed after Glenn. As soon as Jon stepped off the ladder, his boot was met with shallow water. The floor beneath was slick, like a swamp. Careful, slow steps were needed to not fall. Glenn shone his torch down the tunnel but was only met with a dark void. The squeaking of a rat echoed from deep within, accompanied by the sound of scratching claws. Oddly, it reminded Jon of the tombs beneath Winterfell. But only in sight alone. The tombs of the old Stark kings smelled musty, not like damp piss. Jon joined Glenn’s side.

“Ready?”

“No.”

Glenn started forward and Jon let him lead. As they carefully stepped down the tunnel, Jon kept one hand on the hilt of his dagger. Longclaw would be no good down here, it was too tight. Each step squelched and each squelch echoed. Glenn shuddered but pressed forward all the same. The further they went, the worse the stench became. The dampness of the air only moistened further and the ground went from slippery to slick as ice. But the stench was definitely the worst of it. It was bad, stomach-churning bad. Too bad in fact. There was rot in the air. Death had a unique smell, one Jon would not soon forget. Jon drew his dagger.

“Ready yourself, the dead are near.”

“What? How do you know?”

“The air smells of rot.”

Then, as if to prove him right, a faint, gurgling hiss lingered from the void. Glenn’s movements stiffened and their already slow pace slowed even further. The dead’s cry grew louder and more clear until it became apparent it was not one but several. The light of the torch gleamed at something in the void. Glenn steadied the beam of light and revealed iron bars.

“It’s a sewer tunnel,” Glenn whispered.

Together, they crept closer. Jon stopped Glenn with a touch to the shoulder.

“Me first, get behind me.”

“R-Right.”

They swapped places and Jon approached the bars. A dead, rotting face slammed against them and screamed its gurgling scream. It clawed through the bars with such furiosity that it tore not only its clothes but the skin from its arms. Others joined it, piling up against the crisscrossed iron bars. More and more, an endless stream of the dead until there were so many that the original's head was split in four on the bars by the weight of their pushing.

“Fucking hell…” Glenn said.

“Well. It appears that we must fight after all.”

***

Jon and Glenn returned in solemn silence. As they climbed back into the basement, Jacqui asked what she ought to.

“Did you find a way out?”

“No…” Glenn said.

He slunk past her as if all the energy had been drained from him. Jon touched her shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze.

“We must fight. Ready yourself.”

Jacqui exhaled shakily but still showed Jon a brave face. Feigned bravery was a whole deal better than outright cowardice, Jon thought. He accompanied Jacqui back to the store, only to be greeted by the insensate howling of the dead. Rick, Andrea, Glenn and Morales were gathered around the windows, their hands on their weapons. The first layer of glass had broken and the dead were banging on the second and last.

“Find a way out?” Rick shouted.

“No,” Jon said.

“We need to come up with something,” Andrea said.

“Fighting is our only option.”

“No!”

Rick clenched his jaw and considered them both.

“I… we need to try to come up with something else first. We gotta try, Jon.”

“I will be plain. The longer we wait to act, the less time we have to plan a proper offensive and the higher chance not only one of us but all of us die.”

“Please, Jon. At least let us take a look from the roof. See if we can’t climb across or something,” Rick said.

Jon turned.

“We need to look from the roof to plan our offensive anyway.”

Andrea muttered something as the group headed to the roof.

Once on the roof, Morales handed Rick something similar to a sailor’s spyglass but with two scopes instead of one. He held them up to his eyes and peered through. Jon joined his side and squinted to follow his gaze. A yard away were several large, yellow vehicles equipped with huge wheels, scoops and trays. They sat abandoned, like giant steel boulders.

“That construction site, those trucks, they always keep keys on hand,” Rick said.

“We’ll never make it past the walkers,” Morales said.

Rick looked to Glenn.

“You got me out of that tank, didn’t ya?”

“Yeah, but they were feeding. They were distracted.”

“Can we distract them again?”

“I could clear a path,” Jon touched Longclaw’s hilt.

“Another suicide mission…” Andrea grumbled.

“Right, listen to him, he’s onto somethin’” Merle pointed at Rick. “A diversion. Like on Hogan’s Heroes.”

“God, give it a rest!” Jacqui said.

“They're drawn by sound right?” Rick asked.

“Right, like dogs. They hear sound, they come,” Glenn said.

“What else?”

“Aside from they hear you, they see you, smell you and if they catch you they eat you,” Morales said.

“They can tell us by smell?”

“Can’t you?!” Glenn laughed.

“Death has a smell unlike any other,” Jon said.

Rick sighed, looked down at his feet and cracked a grin.

“We don’t gotta fight. But after you hear this, shoot you might wanna run out there like Jon said.”

“What? What’s your idea?” Andrea asked, eyes alight.

“The dead smell unique. So, let’s smell like the dead.”

Jon chuckled.

“You’re right, I would rather fight.”

Rick laughed with him but the others looked around confused.

“He means to have us gut one of the dead and cover ourselves in their innards.”

The group’s silence spoke volumes.

“Hell no! No way I’m doin’ that!” Merle yelled.

“Well you’re in luck, you ain’t comin’,” Rick said.

“What?!”

“Rick are you sure?” Jon asked.

“How’s this even a question, of course, I’m sure.”

“If you seriously plan to leave this man here, you may as well do the deed yourself and kill him now. This no way to kill a man.”

“He’s right! I’ll die if you leave me here! You’re a fucking cop! You can’t do that!”

“I ain’t killin’ him! We’ll come back for him with a bigger group.”

Jon shook his head.

“He won’t be here when we do, alive anyway.”

“He’ll be fine! We’ll barricade the doors. The dead’ll never get him.”

“Even so! It is cruel! Bringing him along does no harm!”

“No harm?! Are we talking about the same Merle, Jon?!”

“Are you so blinded by hate that you can’t see reason?! Why would he jeopardise this mission? Doing so will only put his life in danger!”

“Yeah! I might hate y'all but I ain’t gonna kill myself over it!”

“Look. I know guys like this. They’re all the same. Bringin’ him along can only go wrong. He’ll be fine up here until we come back with a team to get him. We’ll even leave him some food and water.”

Jon looked to Merle. The genuine terror on his face was bittersweet. Jon sighed.

“I can not make this decision for you. But you are making a mistake.”

“You can’t and I’m not.”

“Darryl’s gonna raise hell when we tell him we left his brother here…” Glenn said.

“Screw Darryl, Rick’s right,” Andrea said.

“Anyone else got a problem with it?” Rick asked.

No one spoke up.

“I do!” Merle yelled.

***

Dark clouds swirled, blotting the summer sun and stealing its light. Though, its warmth remained as a muggy heat. Jon crouched before Merle, clad in a bright blue cloak made of strange material. Rick had brought him and the others down to the stores and had them gather gloves and boots made of dyed rubber. Yet another sign of this land’s prosperity is that they would have such complex items just laying about. The cloaks and britches Rick had them gather were far more mind-boggling, however. This material was neither cloth, metal, nor silk. It was flexible as leather and just about as hardy, but somehow, it was as smooth as silk while being as shiny as newly polished steel. Morales had called it plastic but could not explain to Jon how it was made. More of this land’s magic, Jon assumed.

Clad in plastic and rubber on top of his furs, leather and mail, Jon placed several plastic flagons of water before Merle as well as several containers of food.

“You think this makes you some hero, kid? Leavin’ me this shit like I’m some kinda dog?”

“I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

“Bullshit!” Merle yanked his cuff. “If you were sorry, you’d let me go!”

Jon stood and stepped past Merle. Beside him lay a satchel of tools left behind by the others. He collected it, as instructed, and turned to leave.

“Fuck you! Pig lovin’ shit head! You look me in the eyes boy! Look at me while you kill me!”

Jon stopped. He pulled a saw small enough to use one-handed from the satchel and tossed it to Merle’s feet.

“Free yourself once we’re gone, get out of the heat. But I’d stay here until we return. You won’t make it on your own.”

Merle scowled at him but stopped his yelling. He slumped back against the pipe and sighed, deflating. Jon squeezed through the wooden boards he and Morales had nailed to the roof’s doorway and took up a hammer. He nailed the final board into place and stared at Merle through a gap. His mind wandered to all those years ago, watching as his father took off the head of a deserter with Ice. Is this what his father would do? Leave such a man to the elements, and for what? A cruel tongue and a bit of violence? Jon wanted to look away, shame yanked at his head to turn, but he did not let it. He took in the scene, branding it into his head. Whatever became of this man, was in no small part Jon’s fault. Jon gathered up the hammer and nails and returned to the group.

When Jon returned to the group, gathered in the same area where Andrea had threatened to kill him, he expected them to be covered head to toe in rot by now. Instead, they were gathered around the corpse in solemn silence. Rick loomed over the body, axe in hand. He dropped it with a frustrated cry and went to his knees. His hands patted the body all over and stopped on its pants. From a pocket, he retrieved something leather. Inside was a plastic card with a face and words. Rick’s eyes became misty as he started to read.

“Wayne Dunlap. Georgia Licence. Born, 1979,” Rick said.

He handed the card to Glenn and the group passed it around, each taking their time to study it thoroughly. When the card was put into his hands, Jon looked it over. Learning of the man would not make cutting him open for his innards any easier, but it was the right thing to do, Jon knew.

“He had twenty-eight dollars in his pocket when he died, and a picture of a pretty girl, ‘with love from Rachel’. He used to be like us. Worrying about bills or the rent or the Superbowl. If I ever find my family, I’m gonna tell them about Wayne,” Rick said.

Jon handed the card back to Rick, who slipped it into his pocket before hoisting the axe over his head and burying it in the man’s stomach. Black blood gushed from the wound, spilling all over the man’s front. It filled the cracks of the floor, reaching out like tendrils towards the group. It stained the axe blade, veiling its red paint in black rot. The group shouted as turned away, their faces scrunched with revolt. Jon made himself watch. Even as Rick began to cut off each of the corpse’s limbs, Jon looked on. Even as black blood sprayed, Jon looked on. Even as brown, rotted flesh was exposed at the end of each stump, Jon looked. And when it came time to dig their hands into the man’s bowels, Jon stepped forward and took the first plunge. He lathered his plastic cloak with rot and blood, hiding away any glimpse of the bright blue material. Death attacked his nose, lingering in the air, pungent and unavoidable. By the time they were done, they had all vomited at least once. Which did little to help the stench. They looked dead, indistinguishable from the shambling corpses outside.

“Jon, is Merle secure?” Rick asked.

“He’s fine.”

“Good.”

Rick placed a rot-covered hand on his shoulder and stared at him from behind a mask of black blood.

“We’ll come back for him. He’ll survive, I promise.”

“For your sake. You’d better hope so.”

“Why you keep protectin’ that cracker? Huh? You two see eye to eye or somethin’?” T-Dog asked.

“To repay cruelty with cruelty is not justice.”

“World ain’t that simple, Jon,” Rick said.

“Enough. There isn’t time for such discussion,” Jon huffed and turned from them.

He came face to face with Andrea and expected to receive some kind of taunt or sneer. But behind her mask of blood and rot, she was expressionless. Her eyes did lock with his, however. They seemed almost warm. Jon went to approach the exit when Glenn stopped him.

“Wait!” He turned to the others, “We don’t know if this’ll actually work. We need to test it first.”

“How?” Rick asked, joining them.

“There’s a few geeks walking about out there. One of us should approach them and see how they react. If they attack, whoever it is can just run back here, no harm done. But if we all get caught out there it’ll be chaos as we try to run.”

“I’ll go, armour remember?” Jon said.

“Makes sense,” Glenn said.

Rick nodded and the rest of the group agreed, even Andrea. Jon took hold of the door’s handle, and Rick and Glenn stepped back. He stepped out into an empty alley. Two walkers shambled about aimlessly, wandering the length of the alley. They approached Jon but when they reached him, they turned to restart their pacing. Jon quietly opened the door and gave Rick a silent nod. One by one, they all snuck into the alley and crept towards its exit. A toppled truck blocked their path so in pairs they crawled beneath a small gap afforded to them until they all stood amidst the hoard. The hoard’s once ferocious howling and gurgling was little more than a droning, constant mumbling. Without prey, they shambled aimlessly, bumping into walls and each other. One crawled past Jon, splinters of bone struck out from its twisted legs. The group formed a clump and shambled as one down the road, taking care not to bump into the dead when unnecessary. But it was entirely unavoidable. Each time one of them was forced to touch the dead, they froze as one, but each time the corpse simply stumbled out of the way without so much as a glance their way. Regardless, everyone’s hands were glued to their weapons. And those without huddled in the centre of the clump, fists clenched.

A gunshot rang through the streets and Jon’s heart practically leapt from his chest. No, not a gunshot. Thunder. A droplet struck the road. Then another touched his glove. Then the rain began to fall as a sprinkle. The group hurried, shambling as fast as they could. The sprinkle became a shower and their shamble broke out into a run. Rotted heads snapped to them, and vacant colourless eyes stared at them accusingly. Their droning mumble picked up into a screeching, gurgling howl. Jon whipped his dagger from his belt and shoved it into the weaponless hands of Jacqui.

“We must fight!” He bellowed as he drew Longclaw.

Rick and Andrea drew their pistols. Glenn raised Merle’s rifle, and Morales and Jacqui tightened their guard around the limping T-Dog.

“Dammit!” Yelled Andrea.

She popped a round into a corpse who swung at her. More booming explosions joined hers as the others unloaded. Bodies fell all around them, clearing a perimeter of safety.

“Hold a circle around the defenceless!” Jon yelled as he fell one of the dead with a high, wide swing.

Glenn began a screaming shout as he fired into the endless hoard of rot and the others joined him, yelling defiantly at their foe. Jacqui rushed to Jon’s side and joined him in felling the dead. At the front of their clump, it was up to them to clear the way. Together they swung and stabbed their way through the hoard. For a moment, they made steady progress and all seemed hopeful. Until Rick’s gun clicked. He quickly took up the axe and rushed to the side of their circle. Then, Andrea’s gun clicked and she rushed to the other side, bludgeoning the dead with her pistol’s hilt. Then finally, Glenn’s rifle fired its last round and he rushed the back, doing the same as Andrea. Swiftly, the dead tightened their circle of safety and squished their clump together. Screams of bravery became screams of terror as they all stood back to back around the defenceless T-Dog and Morales.

“Hold! We’re almost there! The gate draws near!”

The chain gate to the yard of steel giants inched closer with every felled corpse. Just as they were about to reach it, Andrea screamed. One of the dead ducked beneath the swing of her gun and lunged beneath her arms. Its face buried into her chest and Andrea thrashed to get it off. Rick, swift as an arrow, buried his axe into the back of its head and it slumped to the ground. Andrea was covered in too much rot already to tell if the corpse had bitten her, but there was little time for worry. While Rick’s quick response had saved Andrea, it had broken their formation. The dead filled the gap left by Rick, fracturing the group. Jon came upon the gate and tried to shoulder it open only to find it barred by a thick chain and some sort of lock. He struck it with Longclaw and the valyrian steel ate through the chain like it was warm butter. Together with Jacqui, they pushed the gates open.

“Go! Get to the truck!” Jon yelled as he turned back.

Jacqui, fortunately, did not argue and ran off into the lot. The hoard descended on the others. Jon charged forward and fell the dead five at a time, hacking and cleaving his way through the thick flood of corpses until he reached the group. They were all back to back, huddled in a circle, using their feet to kick the dead back as they tried to stagger forward. Even T-Dog, with pained effort, was up and kicking. However valiant, their efforts were gaining less and fewer results as the combined mass of the hoard bore down on them.

“Come on! This way!” Jon yelled from his quickly closing gap.

Morales hurried T-Dog through the gap, both still kicking and punching the dead away as they scampered into the yard. Glenn followed, butting with his rifle. Then Rick, hacking with his axe. Jon held the gap open with blinding fast swings as Andrea hurried through last. But no matter how practised Jon was, he was only human. A corpse got between his arms and lunged its face at him. Andrea’s gun cracked it across the head and Jon threw it limply from him, but another quickly took its place. The once man, was huge and burly, a mountain in human form. It tackled both Jon and Andrea to the ground. Without conscious thought, Jon sprawled himself out on top of Andrea. Fingers and teeth tore away the plastic cloak, through his black and furs, and found his mail. It kept him safe and thus, Andrea too. For now. He heaved, trying to throw the hoard off his back but it was no good. Combined, the dead were a mountain and Jon was but a man. All he could do was stare at Andrea’s terrified, rot-covered face as he struggled to free them. Then a wailing filled the air accompanied by a roar so mighty it could only be compared to the battle cry of a giant. The weight of the hoard lifted and Jon flung the thin layer of corpses from his back. He spun as he rose, felling three with Longclaw. Behind him, a red car sat, wailing and roaring. Glenn stuck his head out of the window.

“Come on you fuckers! Come get me, shit-for-brains!”

The car roared and the dead howled. The wheels spun, squealing and screeching as the car spun around and shot off down the road at an impossible speed. Stupidly, the hoard followed after it, leaving but a handful to attack Jon and Andrea. They rushed past them with ease and charged the truck sat in the yard. The back of the truck opened. Rick and Morales stuck out their arms.

“Go go go!” Rick yelled.

In unison, Jon and Andrea leapt into the back of the truck. Rick slammed the back closed behind them and Morales seized Andrea.

“Are you bit?! Are you bit?!”

“No! No!”

Andrea shook him off and stared at Jon, panting.

“I’m not…”

Morales patted her chest regardless and she did little to fight in indecency. Instead, she continued to stare at Jon from behind her mask of rot.

“Now what?!” Jon yelled. “Where do we go from here?!”

Jacqui peered over a set of seats at the front, grinning.

“We drive.”

Suddenly, the truck roared around him and a violent rumbling shook the floor. Jon was thrown backward against the back of the seats as the truck lurched back. The snapping of metal filled the air as they crashed through the gates and the squelching of flesh, as they mowed through the hoard. Then, the truck stopped, turned and lurched forward. If Jon hadn’t already thrown up so much today, he would have again. Instead, he retched nothing but spit and acid as he struggled to his feet. While they hadn’t stopped, he was somehow no longer being thrown about. He staggered to the front and looked past Jacqui through a large, wide pane of glass. They were racing down the road at a speed incomprehensible. Faster than any horse, hell faster than any ship. Jon did not have it in him to ask why. Instead, he just accepted it and slumped back to the floor, refusing to watch the road anymore. Rick crouched before him, the white of his toothy grin broke apart his rot-covered face.

“Rest now, you did well, Jon. We owe you our lives.”

Jon groaned and swallowed the acid in his mouth. He shook his head.

“You owe your lives to yourselves. You fought. You lived.”

Laughs of victory filled the truck and Jon allowed himself a weak smile. The only one who did not laugh was Andrea. She just kept staring at him. Outside, the chorus of wailing and roaring returned.

“It’s Glenn!” Jacqui yelled.

Everyone rushed to the front and waved through the windows, leaving Andrea and Jon alone. They said nothing. Andrea shuffled over and sat up against the side of the truck, a few feet from Jon, but beside him all the same.

---

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Next Chapter, Jon arrives at the quarry camp and is introduced to the rest of the group