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redwoodwv-hq · 27 days

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Name: Penelope Kingston Age: 40 Town Occupation: Stable Hand / Seamstress Previous Occupation: Global-1 Scientist Redwood Resident Length: Since inception Faceclaim: Sophia Bush

Bullet Points:

Lives by the schoolhouse and Renee's home.

Still feels as if their new life is her fault for not finding a cure for the virus and is afraid Redwood members might find out about her previous occupation, afraid of what they might do to her.

Was a huge fan of the Beckett's and even had a small crush on Oliver before he passed. Every now and then, Penny will visit Oliver's grave.

Works on perfecting her sewing craft on the daily but could mostly be found with the horses and farm animals.

Gets overwhelmed easily.

Took in Oliver's dog after his death; a red nose Pitbull named Riley.

Biography:

Penelope was born to James and Velma Kingston, with an older brother to greet her in the new world. At first, the family was the prime example of ‘picture perfect.’ That was until James left - no last words, no goodbyes. He was simply gone. Security joined James’ departure, along with the big house and time with their mother. Becoming a single mother overnight rang tough for Velma, but she did everything she possibly could to keep a roof over her children’s heads and food on the table. With no father figure and their mother constantly working, Penny’s older brother, Matt, watched over his younger sister, and the two grew close. Throughout their schooling, the siblings stuck by each other’s side, sticking up for one another when prompted and supporting each other when needed.

High school was easy in terms of the material - being a straight-A student practically came naturally. However, when it came to making friends and being social, it was no walk in the park. At times the girl could be socially awkward, never knowing what to talk to her fellow students about as she wasn’t up to all the celebrity gossip and newest trends. While girls her age went to the mall and tried on clothes as if they were in a montage from a teen movie, Penny was reading up on the latest scientific discoveries in the medical world. The body fascinated her and how the body could heal itself with proper care. No one her age wanted to hear it. When it came time for college, Penny was accepted to Duke University for Biomedical Engineering then she moved to MIT, gaining her Ph.D. Her academics and medical journal articles caught a few eyes. By the time she graduated, Penny had several job offers, and Global-1 was one of them.

Accepting Global-1’s job offer was a no-brainer. They were offering a much larger compensation, living quarters - even offered a grant for a vehicle if needed. The incentives were flashy, and the environment was promising. When she arrived, Penny realized they were all for a reason.

The contract came with various Non-Disclosure Policies (NDA). Global-1 had a very strict no-social media policy; additionally, they could tap into any employee’s phone line claiming it was to protect the integrity of the company. There were many other red flags, but Penny’s eye was on the work, which was to find cures to a multitude of viruses that could wipe out the human race. It was just like her to try and help others. So, to do just that, Penny sacrificed her privacy and social life - or lack thereof - to work for the company.

Came the day when one of the deadliest viruses each scientist was warned about was released. Penny had been running late due to an accidentally spilled coffee. After returning to her apartment to change and practically sprinting to the laboratory, security guarded the door, holding back anyone who tried to get in, stating there was a situation and they would be allowed in once everything settled. Immediately a feeling of dread washed over the woman. She knew something was wrong. With paranoia thick in her bones, Penny returned home to pack a bag with all her essentials and necessities, leaving behind everything she knew would not serve her well. Matt lived just around the corner. Finding her brother, Penny urged him to do the same and for them to get to a safe place out of the city, and they did just that.

A few weeks later, the siblings were held up in Penny’s cabin in the middle of nowhere. News of the viral outbreak had reached them. A slew of emotions hit the woman at once, but guilt lingered the longest - and continues to. If only she had found the cure … she was so fucking close.

They believed their stay in the cabin would be forever, or at least until some government was able to figure out a cure and save the survivors. They’d pulled in a few stranglers but eventually were pushed out by savages. That’s when they found the Beckett farm, along with the Beckett family. Penny offered to help with the farm animals and horses in exchange for shelter; they agreed. Not long afterward did the formation of the Redwood community happen.

Now Penny keeps her past occupation a secret - telling everyone she was a ranch hand before the world took a shit. She still takes care of the few horses left in Redwood, along with the farm animals - and she's taken up fixing any clothing brought her way … her way of making up for not finding the cure to the world's biggest epidemic.

#redwood.characters

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lunagb · 9 months

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A Plague of Sleet and Rot (ASoIaF x The Walking Dead fanfic)

BOOK 2 - A Road of Snow and Grime

Chapter 18: A Traitor's Life

Masterlist

Relationships: Daryl Dixon x Carol, Rick Grimes x Lori Grimes, Carl Grimes & Sophia, Jon x Andrea, Jon x Beth Greene

Summary: A month has passed since Jon Snow awakened on a highway outside of Atlanta and joined Rick Grimes and his fellow survivors. His memories of his death have returned and our alien world is beginning to make a bit of sense. Ever since the loss of the CDC, surviving in the apocalypse has been a daily struggle. The group is on thin ice. Supplies are dwindling. Hope is fading. The dead are walking. And their only chance for life may be a run-down farm, an old man and his daughters.

Chapter Summary: Jon grapples with his decision and Bowen learns a secret.

Time Frame: Farm Arc - Original Variation

Featured Characters: Jon Snow, Bowen Marsh, Ghost, Mormont's Raven, Rick Grimes, Carl Grimes, Lori Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Carol, Sophia, Dale, Glenn Rhee, Andrea, T-Dog, Edwin Jenner, Shane Walsh, Beth Greene, Maggie Greene, Hershel Greene, Randall Culver,

Warnings: gore, vivid descriptions of dead bodies, child mutilation, graphic violence, death, murder, active combat, descriptions of armed warfare

[Art above is a piece by Art.of.Azrael. You can support them here: https://linktr.ee/Art.of.Azrael ]

Any notes are appreciated!

Jon

It’ll do, I suppose. Jon ran his hand over the tree’s coarse, brown bark. It loomed tall. A hundred branches fanned in every direction. Roots as thick as a man’s arm snaked through a bed of hard, cracked earth. Tall, old and grand – just like a weirwood. Not that it’s like to matter. They won’t hear me and neither will he. Especially not him.

Jon knelt before the grand, old oak tree. One oak of many – of hundreds just like it. Its brothers and sisters formed the forest’s tree line. They gave the old tree a wide birth. As did the bushes and the shrubs and the grass. A grand giant out of place amongst its humble peers. Its leaves were green, not red. Some did have five fingers but, others had six and some had seven. None were shaped like hands. Its bark was brown and coarse, not white and smooth. But it was tall and old. Tall and old is the best I’m like to get.

Ghost watched the tree. His red eyes followed the canopy of fanned branches as they swayed in the muggy, summer breeze. Bloodbeak watched Jon. His scarred eye stared into his, unblinking. Jon had never seen the damnable eye blink. Not once.

Jon drew his dagger and got to carving the face. The brown, course bark parted without complaint. The wood it shielded surrendered to the will of his dagger’s point. Ghost watched him work, head cocked, eyes wide. His ear twitched with every scrape.

“You’re meant to be watching the woods, not me.”

Ghost cocked his head to the other side.

“Oh, very well then – just keep still, boy. Let’s see if I can’t make it look like you. You’re as close as I’m like to find here.”

Bloodbeak perched among the highest, thinnest branches. All at once the breeze vanished. The red morning light danced upon his sleek, black feathers and warmed the pale, exposed flesh of his scarred, unblinking eye. For once the raven said nothing at all.

Two slim ovals for the eyes, a lengthy triangle for the nose and an upside-down arch for the mouth. A child’s drawing stared back at him. Even Arya could have done better than this. Weirwoods looked grim and mighty and wise. The old oak looked like a sad lackwit.

Jon sheathed his dagger.

If it’s not to your liking, you can complain to someone who bloody cares. I’m not here to talk to you lot, anyways.

Jon closed his eyes and bowed his head. Most like, I speak to no one but myself. I’ve felt the cold embrace. I’ve seen what lies on the other side. But… in the small chance that I’m wrong or mistaken or saw a falsehood, I hope my words find you well, Father.

A muggy, morning wind whistled across the fields.

What I’ve done – or rather what I did not do – was it right? Did I serve my duty or did I serve myself? Marsh has turned cloak once. Who’s to say he won’t do so again? When things are hard. When things look hopeless. When it suits his benefit. He was a coward; is a coward. Not a man suited to times like this. He buries his head in the snow. He cowers before truth; before hard truths. A man like him cannot adapt to his circumstances. He is a drowning man; like to drag others down with him. Voices whisper these doubts to me, small voices but sharp too. Like needles, they prick me.

Yet, despite their incessant pricking, I know it in my heart of hearts that Marsh wasn’t mine to kill. Not anymore. Not after my brothers gave me justice. If I had killed him again, there would be no justice in it. What is a second justice if not a murder? I could not kill him. He wasn’t mine to kill. He wasn’t. I pray you agree, Father. These sorts of things; questions of life and death, of right and wrong – you always knew the answers. I pray that your blood has granted me the sight to see. If you were here, you would have scolded me just now. No doubt. Mayhaps, you are scolding me right now for what I do not say, for those I do not address, but… you did not know the old gods like I did, Father. If you had, you would have no words for them either.

Jon lifted his head. Sap wept from the corners of the old oak’s eyes. Amber rivers ran down its brown, course face. Ghost stared at the amber tears. Bloodbeak stared at Jon and said nothing at all. Not even a mutter. Jon clenched his jaw. It’s not Father. He stood. It’s them.

Your power extends beyond the weirwoods. So be it. That does not make me your pawn. Fuck off to your dead world.

He turned his back on the old oak and headed back to camp. The wall loomed high. The sun shone red. The muggy air reeked of rot.

Bowen

Bowen pulled at the t-shirt’s collar. Too tight. The shirt managed to squeeze him all over; especially his belly. And mismatched to boot. Fashion meant as little as swords but, it would serve to possess as few reasons to be disliked as possible. He had enough as it was. The icy stares and venomous glares – they all must surely be privy to his greatest sin. It was less than he deserved but even so, Jon Snow had granted him a second life. Best to make it one worth living. For however long this dying world allowed him. What sort of life was lived stooped in hatred and ill will? A traitor’s life. His blacks and leathers might have offered a solution to his appearance problem but, dying of heat didn’t seem like the proper way to honour Jon’s mercy either.

At the very least, the shirt and half-leg trousers were thin and allowed the breeze – as muggy as it was – to come and go as it pleased. Never did Bowen think he’d ever feel such heat again. Even after months of living in it, he found himself bewildered when his sweat didn’t freeze on his forehead. If, only for a moment. I must remember to thank… seven hells what is his name? The one who gave me the clothes. With hair white as snow and a beard to match.

Lump lay in the corner of the tent. Will she help matters? The greatsword was near as large as he was. On a swordsman, she’d inspire trust and reliability. On him, she’d inspire mockery.

The tent flap flew open. Chris’s freckled face appeared. “They’re serving breakfast. You coming?”

“Aye.” Bowen considered Lump.

Chris pushed up his glasses. “Hurry, I’m hungry.”

“Hold on.” Bowen retrieved his dagger from the safety of its shelter beneath his cloak and slid it into its scabbard. Lump remained behind as he crawled from the tent. He shielded his eyes from the glare of the red, morning sun. “A bad omen,” he muttered.

“It’s just the sun. Sometimes it’s red. Sometimes it’s orange.”

“A red sky in the morning is a warning from the Crone, lad – of ill luck and hardships to come.”

“Right.” Chris rolled his eyes.

The boy’s youthful arrogance kept him from his faith. To not worship the seven – gods of a distant world – was one thing but, Chris believed himself above even his own world’s god. A god called God. Regardless of his uninspired name, to abandon a higher power was a fool’s errand. A man needs such power to keep him humble lest he wander too far from the trail of righteousness. As I once did. Chris, however, had not felt true power. He had not felt the Stranger’s cold embrace between worlds or the Mother’s kiss upon rebirth. He knew only what this world had taught him, and this world did not teach much of faith. In time, as he matured and this world healed, he would see true as all men should. He has too. It has too.

Bodies swamped a table made of… plastic. More bloody plastic. Plastic pavilions, plastic cups, plastic cutlery. Plastic this and plastic that. Is nothing in this world crafted by the hands of men? Only the food, it seemed. Well, by the hands of women. Real women. Not girls or savages. Real honest to gods women. As he and Chris claimed two free plastic stools, one of them plopped two bowls in front of them and then her arse on the stool beside him. Her smile almost made him forget about the incessant smell of rot that loitered all around.

“Bowen, right? And you’re Chris? Sorry for not finding a chance for proper introductions yesterday. My name’s Lori – Rick’s wife and Carl’s mother. The boy with the hat.” She offered her hand.

Bowen shook it. “Don’t apologise. It’s quite alright. We all had a lot on our minds last night.”

“Hello,” Chris mumbled before shovelling oats into his mouth.

“You’ll have to excuse him. I’m afraid, we haven’t had a proper meal in quite a while.”

Lori waved him off. “Oh, he’s fine. Boys – they never change.”

“This fine work must be your doing, aye?” Bowen gestured to the porridge with his plastic spoon. Every bowl around the table was filled halfway. They live surrounded by fields yet, they ration their food. Caution or necessity?

“Canned porridge. My speciality.”

It tasted of nothing and felt closer to bile upon his tongue than oats yet, a woman’s hands wielded a certain sort of magic. Bowen swallowed his heaping spoonful and pointed the spoon around the table. “I’m afraid I haven’t had to chance to learn names.”

Lori smiled and gestured across the table at a woman with short hair. “That’s Carol. The boy beside her ignoring his food is my son, Carl.” The lad had a chipper look about him. A good sign. Carol’s hair disconcerted him. Short, like a man’s. A strange custom for a strange land, or madness?

Beside the lad, a young lady with hair of gold tied taught shot him a withering look. “That’s Andrea. Ignore the scowl. She scowls more often than not nowadays.”

“Aye.” The scowl did not falter even as Bowen held eye contact. She is privy to my sin. Mayhaps they all are. Lori’s easy smile remained without a twitch or quiver.

A white-haired, wrinkled man sat at the end of the table. Two women sat on either side of him. They shared the same round faces and fair complexion. “That’s Hershel, the farm’s owner, and his daughters, Beth and Maggie. Beth is blonde. Maggie is brunette.”

“Ah yes, we’ve met. It’s thanks to him I have fresh clothes. I’ve been meaning to give him my thanks.”

“I’ll let him know you’re grateful.”

“Thank you.” Bowen nodded. “So, he opened up his home to you?”

“Yeah… he’s a kind man, helpin’ strangers like that. Is Chris your son?”

Chris choked on his porridge.

Bowen slapped him on the back. “I’m afraid not.”

Lori nodded and gestured to a savage-looking man whittling arrows at the table. Unkempt, tangled hair hung over sharp, rugged features. He looked half a wildling. “That’s Daryl. Best not to ignore his scowls. We picked him up some time ago, him and his brother. Found them wanderin’ the woods and gave them a place to lay their heads. Never been the friendliest folks but he’s been with us ever since.”

“And where is this brother?”

“Gone. Is your story a similar one with Tyreese?”

Good. “Did he find me? Aye. Helped me get my bearings after I, uh… after I-”

“Arrived? After you died?”

“Jon has spoken of our home?”

“He has.”

And of more, I wager. “And you believe him?”

“I’ve believed stranger things. You’ve been with them since the start then?”

“Aye, or since my start. I arrived a month or so after the dead began to walk to hear it told.”

“It must have been hard, surviving in such a small group.”

“Our numbers were a hindrance, aye. Tyreese doesn’t trust easily. No matter how many times I told him there was safety in numbers, he’d never listen.”

“He left people to die,” Chris muttered. “Good people.”

“But not you?”

“No, not me,” Bowen said.

“Really? But, you’re strangers, right? People who knew nothing about one another.”

Bowen winced. “No… Nothing at all.”

Lori gave him a shining look. “I see.”

Lori spent the next few minutes detailing the other members of the group from the dark-skinned man, Theodore, who they called to T-Dog to the brooding, once-leader, Shane. When all was said, they seemed decent people; most held to their God and most had a role to play. Even if they were essentially mere small-folk, Bowen could see the beginnings of something great around him. The Culvers could cause issues left unchecked but their leader had a strong look about him. Surely such a man could keep a fat fool and a few squalling children in line.

Lori left to attend to her motherly duties and Chris wasted no time grumbling. “He wouldn’t let me see her last night…”

“Give him time. She’s his daughter.”

“She’s my girlfriend. We were together for four months before the world fell apart. Four months. She loves me and she’d want me by her side.”

Poor lovesick fool. “Aye, I know, lad.”

“Snow!” The old bear’s raven fluttered onto the table. “Snow! Snow!” Death had had no effect on the creature’s lungs it seemed.

He approached the table flanked by his direwolf, bundled in his blacks and mail – a spectre of the past. Smiles and warm words greeted him as he sat, and a bowl found its way before him almost at once. The lad with the hat, Carl, broke away from his mother and rushed to his side. Jon Snow pushed the hat down over the lad’s eyes and whispered something that got the lad giggling. Not once did his eyes venture Bowen’s way. Plenty of others did though. Andrea and the doctor, Jenner glanced his way. Andrea’s scowl festered and a perplexed smile crossed Jenner’s lips. Were they privy to last night? Bowen felt sick. Had he been granted mercy only to have it dashed by a stranger? The whole camp could want him dead, Daryl, Andrea and even Lori for all he knew. It’s less than I deserve. Bowen’s hands trembled. It’s less than I deserve.

“Sorry to keep y’all waitin’.” However many pairs of eyes sent glares his way, but none remained to accuse him as the table’s undivided attention drew towards a tall man with a salt-and-pepper beard. He sat beside Lori at the opposite end of the table to Hershel.

“Come to make excuses, Rick?” Shane asked.

“If by excuses you mean answers, then yeah, I have.” Rick spoke the way you might to a lackwit child – slow and soft. Shane scowled and crossed his arms. Rick cast a smile upon the table of staring eyes. “Hershel, would you mind startin’ us off?”

“Of course.” Hershel got to his feet. The eyes shifted to the end of the table opposing Rick. “I’ve never been one for keepin’ secrets. How can we love our neighbours if we don’t trust ‘em? But, I kept a secret anyhow. Didn’t start off as a secret. Wasn’t ever intended to be a secret. However, a secret it became. So, to clear the air, let’s set things straight. We are out of basic medicine, that mean antib…” The kindly, old whitebeard spoke and spoke some more. Voices raised concerns and charges. But Bowen heard only noise. Out of medicine? They couldn’t be. Julie was safe. They’d said she was safe. How could she be safe without medicine, without the miracle treatments of this strange land?

“You said she was safe.” He must have spoken louder than he intended for a hushed silence swept across the table and every pair of eyes snapped to him. Even Jon’s, sad, sullen eyes. They were too much to bear.

“Safe! Safe! Safe!” cried the Old Bear’s raven.

“I did…” Hershel glanced at Rick. “And… well…”

“She is,” Rick said. “Or will be.”

“Liar!” Chris slammed his fist on the table. “You’re all liars! You said you’d help her! You said you could save her life!”

Bowen touched Chris’s back. “Calm yourself.” The rage deflated out of the boy. He held his head in his hands, tears brimming in his eyes. “What do you plan to do?” Bowen asked.

“There’s a town a short drive away from here full of all kinds of abandoned supplies. We’ll put together a small group and scavenge for medicine to replace what we’ve used up.” Rick smiled with his eyes as he spoke. “Julie’s going to be just fine, I swear it.”

“On your god?”

“On my God. On my wife. On my son.” Rick squeezed his wife’s hand and found his son’s eyes across the table.

“Fuck that. The little bitch is a goner.” May Culver sported a grin as Chris shot to his feet.

“Shut up! No, she isn’t!”

“Yes. She is. Y’all blind? She ain’t got a fuckin’ hand no more. Don’t get me wrong, her kind can take a lot of hell and all but, not that much.”

“SHUT UP!”

“Or what, little man?” James snapped.

“I- I’ll-”

“You’ll sit down, lad,” Bowen said.

“But-”

“Listen to the man, boy,” Sam spoke a little above a whisper. Some leader.

Chris gritted his teeth and sat, fists clenched. As the pack of fools laughed among one another, Sam did nothing. Even as the whole table shot him glares. Even as the fools mocked Julie’s name right beside him. Instead, he stared at the table.

“Got somethin’ to add, Sam?” Rick asked.

“A scavenge… a scavenge won’t work.”

“Why the hell not?” Andrea snapped.

May laughed. “Cause the mall’s overrun, bitch.”

“So?”

“So…” Sam met her eyes. “That’s the only place you’re gonna find any medicine. Everything else’s been picked clean. By us and-”

“Strangers.” James spat.

Sam gave a grim nod. “Y’all ain’t the first to run through these parts. People have been coming and going for months, taking what they will.”

“And you took from them,” Jon said.

Sam didn’t meet Jon’s eyes.

“It’s a dog-eat-dog world, Snow,” May said. “Ain’t enough to around no more, case you ain’t noticed.”

“Damn straight,” James said.

“Ain’t enough,” Pete said.

The three fools looked to the quiet one, Randall. “Dog eat dog,” he muttered.

“It was our town, not theirs,” Sam muttered.

“That stops now,” Rick said. “We find strangers, we don’t rob them, we help them.”

“We gonna foster the whole world now?” May asked. “We’ll run out of room eventually.”

“Y’all could always kindly fuck off. That’ll make room,” Daryl said.

“Right back at ya, arrow boy.” May grinned.

Andrea shook her head and waved her hands. “Hold on. Screw the mall. What about your stash? Surely you’ve got medicine.”

“Get your own,” May snapped.

“We found it fair and square!” James said.

“Fair and square!” Pete said.

“Fair and square…” Randall said.

“That girl’s going to die, you fucking monsters!”

May sneered and shrugged.

“We can’t give you any,” Sam said.

Andrea got to her feet. “You can and you will.”

May shot to her feet. “Try it, bi-” Sam clouted her ear. She clutched it and fell back into her seat.

“I already gave it all to you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Damn, right bullshit!” James said. “I know you ain’t go much sense Pa but there ain’t no way you’re that fuckin’ stupid!”

Sam extinguished James’s fury with a look. “Watch your tone, boy.”

“Why?” Rick asked. “We agreed on a third.”

“Same reason we don’t have none now. Was hardly any to begin with and I ain’t about to let women and children get sick.”

“No,” Andrea said. “You’re lying. Rick, let me check their stash.”

Rick weighed her words.

“Have I lied to you so far?” Sam asked.

“You said you can control them.” Andrea gestured to the Culver. “Look how well that’s gone.”

“I am controllin’ them.”

Andrea scoffed.

Sam scowled. “I ain’t a fucking liar. Go check the fucking stash, you won’t find nothing.”

“But, Pa!”

Sam raised his hand. James gave him a desperate look but received only a glare for an answer.

Rick nodded. “Go on, take a look.”

Andrea hurried off towards the Culver’s camp.

Pete bristled. “I’m checkin’ once you’re done, girl! If I find even a crumb missin’, it’s your ass!”

“Shut up, Pete. You could do with a few less crumbs,” Sam said.

Pete huffed and folded his arms over his potbelly.

“Is this mall our only option?” Rick asked. “Are you sure?”

“There’s a hundred fucking towns just like this one. Don’t gotta only search here,” Daryl said.

“A shot in the dark,” Jon muttered.

“The kid’s right,” Sam said. “If our town’s been picked clean, so has every other town around here. The mall’s a guarantee. No shot anyone’s stupid enough to go in there. You can see the dead fuckers from the street shambling about like a wall of fucking rotting flesh.”

“No one ‘cept us,” Daryl said.

Jon thumbed his chin. “How did this mall, as you say, end up like that?”

“It was a gatherin’ place,” Beth said. Her voice was small and soft. She stared at the table. “The TV said to go there. Probably the whole town listened.”

“But not you?”

Beth shook her head.

“Never trust a talking head. That’s where it’ll get you,” Sam said. “The place is locked from the inside. Got a big ol’ chain wrapped around the handles. Some bastard must have done it as shit was hitting the fan.”

Glenn shifted in his seat. “It’s thanks to whoever did it that we’ve got less walkers to deal with.”

“Yeah? We can tell them that. Sure they’ll agree with you. Might even let us waltz right in for a little shopping spree.”

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Maggie snapped.

“We haven’t decided on anything yet,” Rick said. “Something like this – this is a decision we all need to make.”

A decision for them all to make? He couldn’t mean a vote. Whatever it was, it got nearly every head nodding around the table.

“Always with the fucking voting…” May muttered.

“A vote?” Bowen asked. “For this?”

“That’s how we do things around here.” Rick nodded to Carol.

The short-haired woman scurried off to the house. She returned with a bowl, scraps of paper and a pen.

“Y’all know how this works. The paper and pen will pass around. Right down a yes or a no. Of course, you don’t have to vote but it makes things easier if you do.”

As the bowl, paper and pens made their way around the table, Bowen couldn’t quite believe his eyes. It was as if there were choosing a Lord Commander all over again, and they all acted as if nothing were amiss. Only Jon gave the bowl a disconcerted look. Just as this world was beginning to make sense, it always felt the need to throw something new at him.

The bowl arrived in front of him and Chris. “Even us?” he asked.

“Of course. You’re a part of the group now. You get a vote.”

“Good.” Chris grabbed the pen and paper. “I won’t let you let her die.” He scribbled down yes.

Bowen did the same.

“I’m going,” Chris said before the bowl had moved even one more space down the table.

“That’ll be Glenn’s decision, son,” Rick said. “If we decide to go at all.”

“I’m going and so is Bowen.” Chris looked at him. “Right?”

An army of the dead. Killer corpses. Death incarnate. “I-” Bowen’s skin crawled. “Well-” Chris gave him a desperate look – a pleading, pitiful, desperate look. The scared look of a boy. Bowen swallowed. “I will.”

“I get you want to help your friend.” Glenn wrote down his answer. “But, no offence, I need people I can trust out there.”

An out. A perfect excuse. No one would bat an eye. Jon’s stare bore a hole through his head. “No. We’re coming.”

“We’re going whether it’s with you or on our own,” Chris says.

“Let them.” Jon wrote down his answer. “It’ll keep as many people familiar with the wall at the wall as possible.” Jon gave Bowen a commanding look. This was his chance. A chance to prove himself. Far more than he deserved.

“Let’s finish the vote before we decide anything,” Lori said. She handed the full bowl to Rick.

“Right.” Rick separated the votes into two piles. Nineteen votes for yes. Three for no. “We’re doing this, then… fine – Chris, Bowen you’ll go with Glenn.”

“And Tyreese,” Bowen said. “He wouldn’t forgive us if we left him behind.”

Rick nodded. “And Tyreese.”

“And me,” Jon said.

“I’ll go too,” Sam said.

“No,” Glenn piped up. “Hold on, no. I’ll bring the other three but not you two.”

“Why the hell not?” Sam asked.

“Aye, for what reason?”

“Okay heroes, first of all, you have three broken ribs. You’re only useful if you can swing a sword. And as for you, Sam. You’re better suited here, making sure things run smoothly.”

Jon grimaced and stared at the table. “Aye… okay.”

“Who then?” Sam asked.

“Apart from Bowen, Chris and Tyreese, I’m taking me, Daryl and Maggie.”

“Hold on now,” Hershel said.

“God, Dad. You can’t say no for me. I’m not a kid,” Maggie said.

“It’s too dangerous, and besides, you ain’t never done anything like it before.”

“I have to! How many times have I gone out huntin’? Huh?”

“And look how well that turned out,” Andrea said. She rejoined the table.

Maggie froze, caught between shock and outrage.

Andrea flashed Sam her scowl. “He’s telling the truth.”

“Always do,” Sam said.

“Hershel,” Glenn said. “I need someone with medical experience out there. Preferably someone with two working hands.”

Hershel flushed. “Then take Doctor Jenner.”

Maggie joined Glenn’s side. “Didn’t you hear him? He said he needs people he can trust out there and, I don’t know if you’ve been payin’ attention lately, I’m the person Glenn trusts most nowadays. That’s what love’ll do.”

Glenn flushed and Hershel kneaded his brown. Hershel has the right of it. Women are not made to face such horrors.

“Fine,” Hershel sighed.

Maggie smirked and kissed Glenn on the cheek. It would seem that Daryl isn’t the only one with a bit of wildling in them around here.

“Well then, that settles that. Best we get to work. The wall ain’t gonna build itself.” Rick stood. “Glenn-”

“Hold on, brother,” Shane stood. “You ain’t gettin’ away that easy.”

“Excuse me?”

“What right did you think you had to keep that a secret?”

“It wasn’t a secret.”

“Like hell it wasn’t.”

“It wasn’t. We only ran out yesterday. Glenn, Lori and I decided it’d be best to tell y’all after the workday so it wouldn’t weigh on your minds in the heat.”

“Yeah, man,” Glenn said. “We were gonna tell everyone.”

“It was never a secret,” Lori said.

“Call it what you will. It was a secret. You lied.”

Rick clenched his jaw. “Again, Shane, we were planning on telling everybody at the end of the day.”

“What’s all this we business, brother? You’re in charge ain’t ya? Every decision is your decision no matter how many people are involved. A leader needs to take charge of his decisions, not hide behind excuses all the damn time. He needs to be decisive.”

“Right… what’s your damn point, Shane?”

“My damn point is this, brother!” Shane looked right at Jon. “When I was leader, y’all would have known right away. Y’all would have known yesterday and y’all would have known two weeks ago. Two weeks. How often does Lori take a count, brother? Every few days. And not once did it ever occur to you to mention we were gonna run out of medicine?”

Voices raised as one to shout over one another.

“Shut the hell up, Shane!”

“When you were in charge?!”

“Look how that turned out!”

“Sit down!”

“Your time’s done!”

Jon’s fearsome glare spoke louder than any shouts. Rick looked about to burst but, a touch from Lori settled him.

Rick raised his hands for quiet. “Normally, I’d say we take a vote on it. But, after all that, it seems a bit redundant, huh?

Shane flashed the group a scowl. “Whatever.” He stormed away.

Jon

In front of the farmhouse, the scavenging party prepared to leave. Atop his motorbike, Daryl whittled arrows. In the pickup truck, Glenn and Maggie reviewed a map. And all Jon could do was stand idle as Bowen Marsh secured their supplies in the truck’s bed.

He was never much of a swordsman, Bowen Marsh. Could he count them? Could he organise them? Yes. But when it came to swinging one, the man may as well have taken a bread roll with him to battle for all the use he’d be. The greatsword made for quite a spectacle against his short, round figure.

Jon opened and closed his sword hand as the party made their preparations; as he stood idle and still. “No one would blame you. There’s no shame in it.”

Bowen secured a strap across the pickup truck’s bed. “And let him go on his own? Him? A scrawny boy? No.”

Chris sat in the rangerover, on the opposite side to Tyreese, two rows of seats apart.

“He has Tyreese.”

Bowen fiddled with the strap. A poor farce. His eyes gave him away.

“Glenn’s as sensible as they come and Daryl’s practically half-wolf. The lad’s in fine hands.”

“I’m going, Jon,” Bowen said barely above a whisper.

Jon crossed his arms. “I’m not your Lord Commander anymore. Far be it from me to tell a man where he may or may not go. But don’t go making a mockery of my mercy by getting yourself killed.”

“I… I won’t.” Bowen refused to meet his eyes.

“Good.” Jon tried to ignore Rick’s stare. He watched him like a hawk whenever he and Bowen were ever so much as in shouting distance of one another. “Do you know how to shoot?”

Bowen’s nose wrinkled. “Aye, I’ve more or less figured out the damnable things. It’s not something I can ever get used to. It’s like wielding a bloody lightning bolt. Unnatural it is. Bloody unnatural.”

“Aye, but useful.”

“I suppose…”

Bowen’s handgun looked like any other. They’d found it in a gutter, covered in grime, mud and blood. After Daryl almost lost his lunch when he fished it from the filth he’d refused to ever touch it again and yet, he’d made such a fuss when Rick gave it to Bowen.

“You want to give it to him?” The look Daryl shot Bowen could have curdled milk.

Glenn couldn't meet his eyes. “Yeah, man. If he’s coming with us, he needs one.”

Daryl spat. “Leave him in the car, then. Ain’t gonna be no use anyways, fat old bastard.”

“No. Everyone needs a partner out there – someone to cover their back. Without him, we’re an odd number.”

“Whatever… he ain’t my partner then. No way.”

“I’ll pair with Chris,” Bowen murmured.

And that was as much as Bowen had said about the situation. Death had done nothing for his cravenness it seemed. If anything, he was more meagre than how Jon had left him, if such a thing were possible.

Bowen gave the wall a bold look. “This was you’re doing?”

“My doing? No. Only my idea. The doing was everyone’s.” The rest of the group filled the air with a cacophony of noise; hacking branches, crashing hammers, whirring drills and a screaming chainsaw. All while he stood about idle, on his errand. Glenn wouldn’t let him swing a sword and Rick wouldn’t let him swing an axe. If they had their way, he’d spend most of his time scampering about, pretending to be useful.

Atop a tree trunk post, Sam paused the swinging of his hammer to shout a command at the lumber team.

“That man.” Bowen pointed. “What is his role?”

“First Builder, if you were to give it a title.”

“You say that as if he has no title.”

“He doesn’t.”

“No title?”

“None we use. He used to be a ‘site manager,’. I’ve come to understand they mean more or less the same thing.”

“Bizarre.”

“Aye. But, ignoring the strangeness, it’s proven useful. Those tools came from a building project he worked on before their world collapsed. Power tools they’re called. They’ve turned what should have been months of labour into mere weeks.”

“Should I even ask how they work?”

“Another time, mayhaps.”

Bowen smiled but, in the next breath, his meagerness returned. The smile shamed him. And so it should. To have shame as a constant companion was a lenient punishment.

“Your man…” Bowen’s voice hushed. “Rick, was it? Who was he before the collapse?”

“A sheriff. Some sort of law enforcer.”

“Who’s law? The king’s? Is a sheriff what they call a knight?”

“No. It’s something different. As far as I can gather, sheriffs hold no legal privileges. They swear no vows. Nothing like a knight. Closer to a gold cloak, in a sense.”

“I see… but he still wielded some power, aye? Even if he is of low birth?”

“Some. How much, I haven't been able to put together.”

“As much as… as much as you did, do you think?”

The question might have been bold if hadn’t been whispered and murmured. “You doubt him?”

“I don’t feel any way about him. I don’t know him. Do you trust him above yourself?”

“He makes them feel safe. Safety, even if it’s an illusion, is what they need right now.”

“But real safety? What of that?”

“You need only look ahead of you to see real safety.”

Bowen looked at the wall as he fidgeted with his hands. “Would that wall be there without you?”

“No, Marsh. It wouldn’t.”

“And… if a similar project were required and… and he hadn’t the strength to-”

“I’d ensure it saw completion.”

Bowen nodded. “Good. Good…” He stared at his feet. His hands trembled. “But… why risk it? What if he were to resist? Why not just-”

“Enough.”

“But, they respect you, aye? They’d follow-”

“I’m no power monger, Marsh. They chose him to keep them safe. They’re safe. That’s all there is to it.”

“Time to go!” Glenn shouted. “Bowen, you’ll ride with Chris and Tyreese in the rangerover!”

“Aye!” Bowen glanced Jon’s way. “I… before I go, again- I must say… thank you. For last night.”

“Speak nothing of it.”

“Aye, of course.”

“I mean it. Don’t ever speak of it to me again.”

Bowen stiffened. “Of course. Sorry.” He scurried off towards the rangerover.

“Bowen,” Jon called.

Halfway in the car, Bowen looked back at him. “Aye?”

“Don’t die.”

Bowen smiled. “Once was enough, I think.”

As they sped off down the road, kicking up rooster tails of gravel dust, Jon spied her glare. From across the farm, as she hacked branches from a fallen tree, Andrea looked as if she might kill him.

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