Here is the last chapter. Still trying to decide on the sequel possibility. I'm still very unsure and I'm happier with how this chapter played out than with any other part of this story, which kind of makes me sad. I know a lot of you like it judging by the favorites and all, but I feel like I could have done way better. And now I've made myself sadder. Ugh.

Well, for everyone who stuck by the story and comment and favorited, I just want to thank you all for your continued support and for sticking by it through despite how long it took me to update sometimes. It meant so much to me and it still means a lot to me. I really hope you enjoy this last chapter.

So, please read and enjoy. If you do indeed want a sequel, please let me know. I don't care if you review or PM, just make sure you let me know. If enough people say they do, I'll for sure post one. Thanks for sticking through to the end. I hope you like it.

Same disclaimers apply.

It had been four days and they had not seen a single person from the prison. They were seated around the coffee table, candles burning as they each drank from the whisky bottle. The silence was oppressive, but nobody broke it in favor of trying to wrap their heads around the fact that they might be the only ones left standing. After a while Zach was finally the one to speak. "Okay, so, what's the plan?" His face was blank, a perfect mirror of her own, and Julie concluded it must be shock.

"Should we even bother looking for them," he asked. Gretchen spoke next, her voice as cold as her eyes. "Would they even bother looking for us?"

Julie was ashamed that she couldn't give her the answer she so desperately wanted. Daryl would have, but not if he had someone with him and they were running from whatever it was that had destroyed the prison. They hadn't gone back, but the smoke all the confirmation they needed to know something bad had happened. Julie took an extra big gulp of the burning amber liquid and slammed the bottle down on the table. "Well, I guess this means we just need to figure out whether we should go."

"We can't stay here, just the three of us," Gretchen agreed. Zach rubbed at his forehead and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "The surrounding areas are too picked over. We'd have to move on anyway. Runs were taking longer back at the prison even before..."

...even before everyone died. Julie blinked rapidly and stood up, pulling out the map she had tucked in her back pocket. It was the same map she, Gretchen, Carol, and Daryl had pored over not even two weeks ago. She laid it out over the table and the three of them huddled around it. "The group started out near Atlanta and worked their way over. Maybe we should start working our way North? If we keep going South or East, we'll hit shoreline and back ourselves into a corner. If we stick to less populated areas, stay off main highways, we should be clear of Roamers."

"There's more of a chance of running into people, hostile groups."

Julie nodded to Gretchen, "Yeah, but I'd take that over a herd any day."

"So would I," Zach agreed, "and eventually, we have to try to find a bigger group. We can't stay on the road forever."

"You're not wrong," Julie agreed, though she balked at the idea of jumping to a new group so soon. To her, it was just an affirmation that their old group was gone. That Daryl was gone and she was never going to see him again. It made her eyes sting with unshed tears and she rubbed at them.

"So, now, which vehicle do we take? The military truck would fit all of our supplies, but it's a damn bulls eye to anybody looking to steal our shit." Gretchen let her eyes trail over the map slowly. "Not to mention it's loud as fuck."

"We have way more gas than diesel anyhow," Julie told her. "We could take two cars."

"And get separated," Zach exclaimed, "fuck that. No, we take the car with the best mileage and the biggest trunk. Food, all the ammo and guns, pack a bag full of meds, enough clothes for a week each and just go."

"Then let's plot our course and start a supply list."

It took several hours of planning, crossing out the places they knew that had been picked over, the places they remember hearing had been a red zone and so forth. They traced a red line as far up North as Rhode Island and stopped.

"How far North," Zach asked finally and Julie felt herself wilt internally when she realized they were both looking at her. Was she the leader now? She did have the most experience when it came to time on the road. She hadn't had a group until the prison-not one that stuck for more than a week. "We keep going until we find a good enough group or we die. And we keep going North. Just avoid the big cities and we should be clear."

She folded up the map and stuffed it in her pocket. "Zach, you drive, I'll navigate. Gretchen you sleep in the back and I'll wake you up to take his place. Then I'll switch with Zach and we'll keep that rotation up."

They packed in near silence, deciding finally on taking a Mercury Marquis that Zach had picked several weeks ago that Carol had driven up a couple days after their first trip to Woodbury. It was in fairly good condition, roomy enough to accommodate them, and the mileage was just marginally below decent.

Gretchen and Julie helped Zach move the Taurus from in front of the gate and then they all came to stand beside the car. Zach looked over his best friend. "Do you want to go back? Make sure-" he cut himself off and they stared out at the street. She shook her head finally. "No, they're not coming."

It hurt to admit that. But someone would have come to get them already. Nobody was coming for them. It hurt to care, especially knowing those you cared about didn't give a damn about you. Julie had too much experience in that department and it irked her that she was getting another dose of it now.

Zach insisted they close the gate and hide the grappling hook in the burnt out car on the side of the road just in case. Julie didn't bother to argue. Gretchen was already passed out cold in the backseat. Julie rubbed at her eyes and spared Gretchen a glance over her shoulder before she spoke in a hushed voice. "They have to be dead, right? I mean, they would have come back for us, wouldn't they? I mean, Daryl...he wouldn't have just...left us there."

Zach's eyes were full of sympathy, but she could see the flicker of doubt that burned within. "Do you really think he's dead? Do you really think him, of all people, didn't make it out?"

Her eyes teared up at his words. "Then why isn't he here?"

He reached over and grabbed her hand, trying to offer her what little comfort he could. "Maybe he got cut off by a herd or he's with someone else who's too hurt to be moved."

"Maybe we should go back and check? Just make sure the prison isn't standing?"

Zach focused back on the road and spoke softly after several minutes. "You felt that explosion. There's no way it's still standing."

"I can't believe it's ending this way." She let her head fall against the window and pulled her knees up against her chest. She could still see his face clearly in her mind. It hurt just as much to think he abandoned them as to think he had died.

"No. Me neither."

They drove until half their food supply ran short. They'd portioned it out to stretch as long as possible without having to starve themselves and Julie couldn't help but marvel at how well things had worked out thus far. Having been with a group for so long, being only just the three of them made her paranoid that they would be too crippled by weakness to carry on as long as they needed, but the three of them were determined and she was very sure that they would survive much longer than would be expected.

Losing Beth seemed to have hardened Zach and he was much more reserved now. He didn't try to make as many light-hearted jokes as before and he rarely smiled. Gretchen was her usual detached self and Julie felt empty, as though she'd been destroyed along with the group and was now undergoing the arduous task of rebuilding herself up with nothing to support her.

Once they crossed the border to North Carolina, Julie had felt even more exposed and vulnerable. It had been years since she'd been out of Georgia. It was unsettling. Her mind was already a hurricane of emotion crashing around recklessly and it was getting harder and harder to make sense of things. The laughter was back again and it was louder than she remembered. She clutched at her head when Gretchen and Zach weren't paying attention. Sometimes, Merle would talk to her, whispering in her mind about how this was the way the world worked now and he'd tried to tell her that she'd been better off with him and there wasn't any way he could save her now. He'd tell her that she would wish he had.

She dreamed of Daryl walking away from her, being swarmed by the undead, ripped open and eaten. Sometimes Merle would be standing over her saying she had brought it on herself and then the laughing would start. Zach had taken to watching her more closely and he sometimes sat with his arm around her, keeping her close. It helped marginally. Gretchen didn't acknowledge Julie's slowly deteriorating mental health-mostly because she wasn't all there either when it came down to it, but because she was resigned to the fact that there wasn't much that could be done. They were all hurting in some way. Only time would be able to take it away from them.

"We see anyone, we all have our guns pointed at their heads. No exceptions." She let her eyes drop from the windshield to the map in her hands. "I'm not getting caught by any fucking wolves out here."

"Wolves?"

"Crazy people," she told Zach, not bothering to look at him. "People who've been out there too long, most of them fucked up before the turn. They used to come down pretty far South in the beginning, but they stopped once they ran out of people to kill. I kept meaning to tell Rick about them, but it always slipped my mind. Guess it doesn't matter now. Not like it's going to do them any good."

"They sound pleasant," Gretchen said drily from the back seat. "But let's not invite them to tea."

"If I had fucking iced tea, I wouldn't be sharing that shit."

Julie rolled her eyes at the pair and continued looking over the map. "How we doing on gas?"

"We're on half a tank."

"Is there any in the trunk?"

"We got a couple cans, but we need to start refilling soon."

"Let's find a station."

They pulled up at the first one they came across and idled out front for a while. They could see even from the road that the windows were covered in a thick layer of dust.

"Anything we get would be worth it," Gretchen said and Zach finally pulled in. "I pump, you girls clear."

The station had been picked clean, but they managed to siphon some gas from a run down car parked behind the station and then they were back on the road. Once in the car, Gretchen popped open a bag of stale pretzels and shoved a handful in her mouth before passing it to Julie.

"Who do you think made it? Hugh Jackman or Dwayne Johnson?"

Zach scoffed as he tossed a pretzel in his mouth. "Neither. But if I had to go with one, Dwayne Johnson all the way."

"Hugh Jackman was hot," Julie murmured as she looked over the map.

Gretchen grinned and stretched out on the backseat. "This is the best road trip I've ever been on."

Zach glanced at her over his shoulder and pushed his hair off his forehead. "Then every single road trip you've ever been on must've sucked big hairy balls."

Julie let out a bark of laughter at that and Gretchen smirked as she shrugged. "I've never been on one. That's why it's the best."

"Does this mean you want us to go visit the Grand Canyon?"

Julie perked up at that. "Hey, when we get to Virginia, we should totally go visit Gettysburg."

"I'm game," Gretchen chirped and the two high-fived. Zach shook his head at the pair and rolled his eyes. Julie nudged his arm playfully. "Oh, come on. Lighten up, Bro. Try to enjoy the scenery or something."

Zach took one hand off the wheel and propped his head up on one hand. He sent her a sideways look. "I'm just thinking about if everyone really did die."

"Who gives a shit," Gretchen snapped, crunching extra hard on a pretzel, "if they didn't, that means they didn't bother coming for us. It means they fucking left us there to die."

"I'm with Gretch on this one," Julie admitted quietly. She'd spent a lot of time on her own thinking it over. "I don't like to think they're all dead, but...they knew where we were. We were there for almost a week waiting and nobody came for us."

"What if Daryl's still alive?"

"Then that means he didn't give as much of a shit about me as I thought," she mumbled bitterly, twisting the end of her braided hair around her wrist and tugging. "Which is bullshit. I did a lot for that fucking prick."

"We did a lot for all of them. Hell, they had your car, Zach," Gretchen said, propping up a pillow behind her head, "that's, like, the fucking cherry on top of the shit cake they baked us."

"It was a really nice car," Julie agreed. Zach let out a sound of disgust. "It's not like we could have taken it with us. This car gets better mileage anyway. And it's roomier."

"Yeah, but it could have been an option."

Zach simply shook his head and looked over to Julie. "So, just go through North Carolina and then into Virginia, right?"

"Yeah, seems fastest." Julie furrowed her brow and looked over at him. "Where exactly in Virginia is Gettysburg?"

"I thought it was in West Virginia," Gretchen replied, popping up. The three sat in silence for a moment.

"I miss Google Maps," Gretchen said finally, falling back on her pillow. Julie burst out laughing and Zach smiled, covering his mouth with one hand. They lapsed into silence and until they pulled over to switch drivers. Gretchen climbed into the driver seat and Julie stretched out in the back. Zach reached around his seat and squeezed her leg. "You doin' okay, Jules?"

"I don't know." And she didn't. "Are you?"

Zach shrugged. "Better than you. I mean Beth and me...let's be honest. We had nothing in common and if it weren't for all this going on, we never would have given each other the time of day. I could always see that, so, it was nice while it lasted and I'm sad that it just...we weren't gonna be together forever, but that doesn't mean I wanted it to end this way."

"So, you're okay, then?"

"I guess. I could be worse."

"We could all be worse," Gretchen said from the driver's seat and Julie scowled to herself. "Seriously, if you just jinxed us, I will beat your ass."

They were forty miles from the border and they'd only encounter one herd so far. They'd been extremely lucky. But they were out of water and their food supplies were non-existent. Julie had set up snares along the side of the road they'd stopped on for the night. They caught a single rabbit. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. Gretchen had helped her skin it and cook it while Zach tried to calculate how much farther they could travel by car with what little gas they had left.

Every station had been bled dry and they had less than a quarter. It was too dangerous for one of them to go out on their own and none of them were willing to leave the car unattended. They all sat on the car, facing different directions and keeping watch. "I got one," Zach called out suddenly. "Which James Bond would survive the longest?"

"That's easy," Julie muttered, "Daniel Craig."

Gretchen tossed a bone into the overgrowth on the side of the road. "It's not even a contest."

Julie fell back against the back windshield, propping her head up on one arm. "Are we fucking there yet," she asked no one in particular.

"How fucked are we if we're the last three people left alive," Zach joked as he whittled away at the end of a small stick. He'd taken to keeping his hands busy with anything and everything he could come up with. Julie and Gretchen were content just to lounge. It was clear Zach was still having problems coming to terms with the loss of Rick's group and Julie knew very well that it was beyond messed up that she wasn't more broken up by it, but it was her experience that everyone always left eventually. Somehow, they would be gone and she would be alone again. It was how it always went. It was better not to dwell on it and just keep going.

"No way our luck could be that shit," Gretchen snorted as she slid off the roof of the car and down the side. She glanced to Julie. "How long until we're in Virginia?"

"Barring complications, not long at all."

They all climbed in the car, Gretchen at the wheel, and started driving. Zach was asleep in the back and Julie had the map laid out. It was silent in the car, comfortable. But there was a split-second notice for Julie, when the hair on the back of her neck abruptly stood on end and she turned to find Gretchen was already looking at her with a similar expression. There was a loud 'boom' as the right front tire was blown out and the car fishtailed wildly and then flipped.

Julie's head was swimming and her vision blurred. Gretchen was breathing hard beside her. "What the fuck?"

Julie tried to turn in her seat, but everything ached and it was hard to see anything clearly, especially when hanging upside down. "Zach?"

There was no answer. "Zach? ZACH!"

Gretchen started fighting to turn around, too, ignoring the blood dripping from her forehead and nose-even as it dripped into her eyes. "C'mon, Zach, say something. You're scaring us!"

"Zach, please answer me, tell me you're okay," Julie begged as tried to undo her seatbelt with shaky hands you. "You gotta be okay."

Something crunched in the glass beside her head and Julie looked up just in time to catch the butt of a rifle as it careened toward her face.

Julie came to when someone smacked her across the face, but just barely. It was dark and her head throbbed along with the rest of her stiff body. Her hands were bound and she was strung up, toes barely meeting the ground.

"Come on, Sugar, let me see them eyes," someone coaxed in faux sweetness and calloused hands gripped her chin roughly. She could tell just by their voice that they were grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, man, we got us a good one. More than makes up for how much of a mess the other one is."

"We can still make some money off her." There was more than one. "Besides, she just needs her shoulder popped back in place."

"She's trouble. We should put her down."

"That's not our decision to make. Someone will take her and then she'll be their problem." Julie managed to force open her eyes again. Head hanging limply, she was able to make out camo fatigues, army regulation. These men were military. Or had been. Something cold slithered down into her stomach and began to writhe. Nothing good could come from this. Their surroundings swayed dangerously and someone let out an anguished cry. It sounded suspiciously like Gretchen. She tried to turn her head, but everything hurt too much. There was the sound of pounding on metal. "Watch it, will you? You're damaging the merchandise."

When they finally pulled to a stop, a black bag was pulled over her head and she was unhooked from the ceiling. She nearly sobbed in relief as the ache in her arms and shoulders was diminished, but was cut short when she was dragged down a steep incline and she noticed for the first time that she was barefoot. The hand gripping her arm tugged her roughly before throwing her down on the concrete floor.

"Hey, watch it! We're gonna get top dollar for her," someone complained. A voice too close for comfort sniped back. "Then you clean her the fuck up! I've been out on the road for over a week and you've just been sitting on your ass here."

Then, without warning, her head was forced under water and for the first time since awakening, Julie was aware enough to fight. But she was nowhere near strong enough. She tried to bat their hands away, but whoever it was ignored her and they pushed her back down and scrubbed their hands over her body. When they were done scrubbing at her, they yanked her back up by her bound hands and tugged her forward until they stopped and hung her from yet another ceiling.

"Her arms are pretty gnarly," someone said, referring to her scars.

"Yeah, but nobody messed her face up and that's where the money's at. You know how it is with the pretty ones. If she wasn't merch, I'd bust a nut all over her everyday for the rest of my life."

No.

"I'll be back to get her when it's time. Keep the door locked."

There was the sound of metal hinges creaking and a door slamming shut. And she was alone again.

The bag was unceremoniously ripped from her head sometime later. There had been another car ride and she'd been dragged into another series of rooms. She squinted into the light, waiting for her eyes to adjust.

"Blonde, hazel eyes, five-foot-nine, early twenties, some scarring on the arms, back, and torso. She has all her teeth and is in peak physical condition. Bidding starts now."

Bidding? What the fuck? Julie let her eyes dart back and forth, but aside from the fluorescent light hanging over her head, she couldn't see anything. But she could hear men as they called out different numbers. She counted seven unique voices. Some sounded older, others as young as her.

The winning bid was five hundred and sixty. Someone came up behind her and yanked her back the way she came, not bothering to put the back over her head. Their was a small group of men, three in army fatigues and two dressed in suits. She studied the men in suits. One of them was busy filling a bin full of boxes of ammo. Ammo. They'd sold her for five-hundred and sixty rounds of ammo.

"Get the fuck off me," Julie's head jerked in the direction of the door way. They were brining in another woman and she was bucking wildly as she tried to squirm out of the man's grip, she managed to clip him in the side of the head with the base of her skull as she howled. "You sick fucks, I'll fucking kill you! Do you hear me? I'm going to rip your Goddamn guts out and tie you to a fucking tree with them."

"Gretchen," she breathed out silently as the woman thrashed hard enough that she managed to dislodge the cloth bag from her head. She pushed up from the ground using the balls of her feet and elbowed the man in the gut before stomping on his foot.

"Enough of this shit," one of the army men snapped and Julie recognized his voice. He was the one in charge. "Get her down on the floor!"

The soldier holding onto Gretchen kicked her legs out from under her and tossed her face first on the ground, pressing his knee into her back. The soldier posted near the door stepped forward and crouched at the brunette's head where he wrapped her hair around his fist and yanked hair, preventing her from moving. Gretchen was screaming incoherently and Julie watched, horrified as the soldier in charge hefted an ax up in his hands, stalked forward, and brought it down on Gretchen's pale neck and hacked away.

The two men in suits didn't so much as flinch. When the soldier was done and he handed the ax off to one the other soldiers. The suit who had been standing by while the other one counted out ammo stepped forward and looked over Gretchen's headless body as it bled out on the floor. "I'll give you an extra twenty if you throw in the body. Some of my pigs could do with a little fattening."

"You got yourself a deal."

The suit turned to the second one. "Pay the man and then load her up. I want to be home in time for dinner."

They didn't put another bag over her head, but they did tied her feet up and the one who was clearly in charge sat beside her with a revolver pointed at her chest.

"I suppose you want an explanation." Julie didn't bother responding, or even acknowledging him. She kept her eyes on the road, being sure to read and memorize every street sign they passed. She was going to get out of this and she was going to kill the man next to her. She had no doubt about that.

"You belong to me now, you do as I say, you do as I want and we won't have problems." She still refused to look at him. "It's actually very nice where we're going and I'm sure that once we're there, you'll thank me."

I doubt that, fucker, she thought darkly. She was going to destroy him in the worst way possible. Gretchen was dead and Zach along with her most likely. All because this greedy fuck was into human trafficking. And the sick part was, he looked perfectly respectable in every single way. From his salt and pepper hair which was slowly becoming whiter and whiter with age, to the crow's feet at the corners of his clear blue eyes and the laugh lines that were etched into his features. Clearly, he had once been a very good man. But not anymore. And all that mattered was what kind of man he was now.

Julie could see herself ramming her fingers into his eyesockets, popping his eyeballs like grapes, hacking his ears off and stuffing them down his throat before she cut out his tongue. Daydreaming about something like that shouldn't be so gratifying, but it was. Inflicting maximum pain and suffering felt like it should be half the goal now, not just survival.

They passed through the wrought iron gates of a large palatial community which was nestled in the center of what looked like a very high-class golf course. The grass was still well-maintained and there was a small group of men in golfing attire playing accompanied by three men who were much more shabbily dressed. A man in a red sweater beckoned one of them men forward, snapping his fingers when he wasn't fast enough. The man stumbled closer and spilled the drink he was brandishing all down the front of the red sweater.

The man in the red sweater didn't even pause before he raised his golf club over his head and began to beat the man to death viciously. Nobody else in the small party flinched or paid it any mind. Yes, she was going to kill them all.

Julie had never been in a house so big. Really, it was a mansion and everything was ornate and pristine. Instead or rags, she was given luxurious dresses. The sight of them caused ice to push through her veins. There was more dignity in wearing rags in this hell, she knew. But the man left her alone. She still didn't even know his name. But she was required to eat dinner with him every night. They sat across from one another in complete silence. He seemed to prefer that she remain silent, even seemed pleased by it. Regardless, Julie wasn't doing it to please him. She was biding her time, content with making herself seem subservient. It was important to seem wide-eyed and empty-headed, it would make him less suspicious. She doubted he'd bothered to ask anything about her and just assumed by her scars that something awful had happened to her and she was afraid it would happen again if she misbehaved.

Truthfully, she was worried something close to would happen again. In fact, she was counting on it. When the man did look at her, he tended to give her a thorough once over and while it was clinical, it was enough to make her skin crawl. That was never going to happen again.

As it were, she was sitting at the end of the long dining room table in her powder pink cardigan with her hair twisted up in some absurd updo while the pair of them ate in silence. They were having braised porkchops, which she refused to eat. Gretchen had been fed to his pigs. There was no way she was becoming a cannibal by proxy. She stuck to the vegetables. She refused to eat any of them meet aside from the venison they'd had once or twice over the course of the week. Once, there's been chicken. It would be a lie to say that the food wasn't heavenly, but the price of being well fed came at a price that was much to steep for her liking.

She finished off the spear of broccoli she was chewing on and fought the grimace that was trying to work its way onto her face. If Rick's group had just come to Woodbury like they'd planned, Gretchen would still be alive, Zach wouldn't be missing, and she wouldn't be some sick old bastard's plaything. The bitterness this train of thought created fueled the rage that had slowly been building since Woodbury. It was nearing an inferno as it burned her up from the inside. The only thing she could think of was to scorch the earth and salt it.

The man sitting at the far end of the table across from her looked up at her and set his silverware down. "This...community has been thriving since the beginning. Three years without a major incident and we've decided to celebrate. Next week, on the anniversary of its founding, we're holding a celebration. You will be accompanying me as my guest and date. There is a dress for you upstairs in your rooms. You will wear it. You smile, you will dance, you will enjoy yourself."

They fell into silence once more and when dinner was over, she retreated to her rooms, her decision made. She spent the next week as she had the two weeks before, studying the community and it's people in what others assumed disinterest. Every house was guarded by one man at each exit. They wore the similar fatigues to the men that had captured her, but it was clear that they were a separate group. These men also went out and scavenged for supplies, bringing back entire groups with them and forcing them into servitude. The supplies they brought back were either used inside the community or used to bid on people that the other group of army men occasionally brought in. Those people that were bid on, were status symbols. Most of them were women and the majority were brunettes, though there was one other blonde and three redheads that she'd seen. They all looked miserable and cowed, just as she pretended to be. There were also a couple of young men. Sometimes, they looked worse. She tried not to think about whether or not any of them had bought children.

There was one mansion that wasn't occupied, but was used by the guards as a store house for ammunitions and barracks. That was where she needed to go to get out. Luckily, the mansion she was being kept in was two houses down. The celebration was to be held in the center of the community, two blocks from the guard station. There was always a row of Jeeps parked outside along the curb while another one patrolled.

There was no point packing any supplies. There was too much risk in her stash being discovered and it would only slow her down. It would be best to steal a guard uniform once she got in.

The night of the celebration, she wore the stupid dress, which had full sleeves and covered her back-to hide her scars, of course-and smiled and danced, trying not to curl her lip in disgust every time someone congratulated the man she was with on how she had been such a wonderful purchase.

Unfortunately for him, the dress he had chosen, had pockets hidden deep within the folds of the midnight blue velvet it was made of and as she'd perused the lavish buffet, while she leisurely sipped from her champagne flute and weaved through the dinner tables, she deftly picked up one of the sterling silver steak knives and slipped it into her pocket without a single person noticing.

He escorted her home an hour later. Instead of bringing her to her rooms, he took her to his own, much as she'd assumed he would and she let him lower her onto his bed, let him climb on top of her and bury his face in her chest. And then, as he had lifted himself above her, She brought the knife up and drew it across his neck in one quick motion, severing his vocal chords. Just as shock bloomed over his face and he reached up to clutch his slashed flesh, the brought the knife up into his gut.

She shoved his gurgling body off of her and stood from the bed. She grabbed his Leg and slice at the back of his feet, severing his Achilles tendon. Using the red and gold bedspread, she wiped as much blood as possible from her body and then checked herself over in a mirror hanging on the wall. The man was still gurgling, one arm outstretched as he tried to call for help. Julie looked at him through the reflection in the mirror. She would have put him out of his misery already, but the longer he took to bleed out, the more time she had before he turned and she needed the distraction of walkers to mask her escape. She spared him a look as she went for the door. "Don't worry. You won't be dead for long."

She threw the door open and stalked down the hall toward the staircase. Her heels clacked noisily on the wood flooring and she didn't bother to disguise it. One of the servants-indentured, to be exact-paused at the landing as he saw her. Julie struck at him in a wide arc, blood spraying as she went and she watched as he crumpled to the floor. It was probably wrong, the flare of satisfaction she felt as she watched him drown in a pool of his own blood, but it just felt so good, knowing she was one step closer to complete freedom. She leant against the banister as she toed off her heels and set them down by the back door when she reached it.

She slit the neck of the guard watching the back door and slipped out, bending down to retrieve her shoes as she went. The heels weren't practical, but that was all she had been afforded since arriving. She had no reason to worry about running into guards as she crept through the neighboring yard; everyone was still celebrating and all security had been diverted to the party. Still, she kept to the shadows.

The guardhouse was going to be tricky. There would still be heavy security. But it would still be easy slipping in the back door. A blitz attack, maybe, even though it was riskier than she liked. Hearing voices, she edge toward the side of the house. Someone had left a window cracked and she could hear a television in another room loudly as it played some over the top action movie at full volume. "Grab me a beer, will ya," someone asked. Julie stood on tip toe and looked from side to side. The room was completely empty save for several bunk beds and a few chests of drawers.

Putting all her weight on the balls of her feet, she sprang up into the air and gripped the window sill, using one hand and forearm to secure her weight while she used her other hand to slowly push the window further up and then she pulled herself up and through the window, landing on her feet as quietly as she could. She rushed to the door and shut it quickly, turning the knob to keep it from shutting to loudly.

Her main concern was getting to the armory. Pressing her ear against the door she listened. There were four separate voices. At the very least, she would be dealing with four armed and dangerous men. She opened the door a crack and immediately ducked down. The doorway into the room the men were in was open and while they had their backs to her, she didn't want them catching her. Julie slid the door open slowly, eye catching on the stairway to her left. Ammunitions would be upstairs, she'd bet her life on it.

"You can do this," she whispered to herself as she slid out of the room on her knees and slipped across the floor and pressed herself against the wall, jumping slightly when one of them men yelled out loud and screamed. They were watching "Die Hard". Jumping to her feet, she took the stairs two at a time and ground to a halt at the landing, pressing herself up against the wall again, brandishing her steak knife. She hadn't found a single weapon in the downstairs barrack. It was the only set back she had so far.

She waited, trying to filter out the noise coming from downstairs, hoping to pick up any sounds from the floor she was on, but nothing came.

"You gotta be shitting me," she whispered, before she crept forward and cautiously began opening doors on either side of the hall. Julie's body sagged in relief on the third try. The room was packed full with nothing short of an arsenal. Not wasting any time, Julie grabbed a large military standard issue rucksack and began filling it with ammo and several handguns. She rummaged around several boxes and nearly squealed when she found a small cache of silencers. She attached one to one of her pilfered Glocks and shoved it into the pocket of her dress for safekeeping while she continued to stock up.

When she opened the last container, she could feel her lips begin to twitch at the sight that greeted her. This would make things so much easier. She picked up one of the grenades and palmed it. Every party needs party favors. She could hear Merle's raucous laughter in her head and her shoulders shook with the force it took to keep her own laughter from bursting out.

Maybe she was well and truly insane. It was no doubt the last few weeks had pushed her well past her limit. And maybe that was okay since it seemed as though one had to be a little insane in order to do all the things she was doing. If Rick had been in her position, he would have waited and tried to figure out how to save the other people who'd been trapped with her, he'd see the community for the potential it had to be better and want to build on that. Julie could see that, but she wanted to burn it to the fucking ground. She could see it in the faces of the people who'd been trapped that to them, a life behind these walls was better than a life out on their own. They were cattle and she didn't feel bad about being the one to slaughter them for it. She probably should, but this world was made for feeling soft and trying to do the right thing. She knew that now. Daryl's face flashed in her mind's eye and her resolve hardened. She would never rely on another person again. Never again.

She stuffed as many grenades into the sack as possible (to hell with safety regulations when regarding explosions) and grabbed the set of keys to the Jeep outside, which were conveniently hanging next top the door. She crept back down the stairs and into the room she came in through. She exited through the same window and then doubled back toward the mansion the party was being held at. All the guards were inside, save for one out front guarding all the Jeeps that were parked in front.

She pulled the Glock from her pocket and approached from behind. Four shots to the chest. She pulled the Bowie knife from her rucksack and then slashed every single tire on all three vehicles. Julie entered through the front door and fired off a series of shots at each guard; all into the chest. Then she tossed a grenade up the flight of stairs near the front entrance and hauled ass as fast as she could out of the house and back the way she came toward the guard house.

The explosion rocked the entire community and Julie hid behind a large clump bushes next to one of the house as she watched every single guard race toward the scene. The guard house was completely empty when she returned. She pulled the keys from her other pocket. They were marked "81A". She walked along the row of vehicles, slashing the tires of the ones that were marked differently and then tossed her bag into the passenger seat of the one that had "81A" stenciled on the side. She pulled a grenade from the rucksack, yanked the pin, and then hurled it through an upstairs window in the guard house.

She was almost out. Almost free. Julie sighed in relief and climbed into the Jeep, started it up and pulled out, driving as fast as she could. She was going to have to ram the gate.

"Shit," she cursed as a Jeep careened toward her from the entrance and blindly reached for the sack, grabbing the first grenade she could. They were already shooting at her, a spray of bullets imbedded in the grill and the door of her Jeep. Thee managed to hit her windshield and crack it. That pissed her off. How the hell was she supposed to see through that shit? She yanked the pin from the grenade using her teeth and hurled it at the oncoming Jeep. "Fuck you!"

The grenade clipped the driver in the head and bounced down into the floorboards in the back. The soldier in the passenger seat scrambled to grab it as the driver swerved off the road and slammed into a rather majestic looking maple tree. They managed to toss the grenade out of the Jeep just before detonation and the passenger screamed as shrapnel tore through them.

She pushed through the front gates at breakneck speed, wrenching her own, and she groaned at the pain, but didn't slow down. She was free. She drove for over until dawn and stopped as the road she was on intersected with another. She shut off the Jeep and just sat for a few minutes, keys clutched in her hand as she finally let the past twenty-four hours sink in. She'd just murdered an entire community of people. There had been at least sixty people there; maybe more. And she was okay with it. Happy about it even. Even now, she was smiling, telling herself they deserved it. They'd fucked her over and they deserved it. She was disappointed she hadn't been able to stick around and see the aftermath.

Falling back in her seat, she cracked her neck and looked down the road. It was time to pick a direction. a distinct feeling of deja vu came over her and she noted vaguely that her surroundings and the road resembled the same one from her dream. She snorted at herself in disbelief for entertaining such a stupid thought. "Don't bullshit yourself."

Pointing in each direction, back and forth, she hummed to herself. "Eenie, meenie, miney, mo."

Settling on the left at the end of the rhyme, she clicked her tongue. "It." She turned the engine over and put the Jeep in gear. "North it is."

Maybe if she was lucky, she could still find her way to Gettysburg. She smiled to herself, trying to imagine how it would have been if she, Zach, and Gretchen had actually made it there. Would it be infested with Roamers? Would there be a camp of survivors living there? Did it even matter anymore? What if she was one of the last people who would even know what Gettysburg was?

She sniffed to herself and wished desperately that Zach was there. If he had been, at least she would be smile. He could make her smile no matter what. If Daryl had been there, he probably either would have told her to stop feeling sorry for herself or held her hand for a moment. And Gretchen. All she could think about when she reminded herself of the brunette was her headless corpse, pool of blood coagulating beneath it.

Julie rubbed at her tired eyes and hoped foolishly to herself that Zach had gotten away, that he was safe. Then she thought of Daryl and hoped some more.

Julie stopped at the first sign of civilization she came across and used the KA-BAR knife to cut the seams on the shoulders on her dress and cut some of the tulle skirt out from under the velvet. She discarded the scraps in a dumpster on the side of the station and then checked the pumps over before tapping on the glass storefront with the tip of her knife. "Anybody home?"

A greyish, rotted face careened into the other side of the glass and hiss at her as it snapped its teeth into the clear barrier to bite her. She pressed the tip of her knife to the glass again, right over where the snarling creature's nose would have been had it not rotted off. "You look like you could use some company. So-" she looked down at the name patch on his coveralls scrunched up her nose, "-Hank, you think you can help a lady out and give her some directions? No? Well, that is a shame."

She busted open the front door and pushed the knife through the top of his skull. All she found in the store was a single, solitary Kit-Kat and a half drained bottle of water behind the counter. She snatched them up and shoved half the candy bar in her mouth as once, and then paused in the door way as she caught sight of several unopened packs of bubblegum. Shrugging to herself, she grabbed a handful, and stepped over Hank and back out into the parking lot. Popping a piece of gum in her mouth and starting up the Jeep, she waved over her shoulder at the store front. "Bye, Hank, it was nice meeting you."

Two hours later, Jeep, almost out of gas, Julie drove it off the road and parked it well past the tree line, covering it in branches and then trekked back up onto the road where she pulled off her heels and tucked them into the rucksack and started walking. She walked for hours, until her feet were sore and it was well after dusk and she couldn't stand it any longer. But she kept walking. She had to.

When a minor herd of walkers appeared, shambling down the road in her direction, she bit out a string of curses and ducked down into the woods, continuing on her path, and careful to keep from disturbing any of the vegetation around her. All it would take is the crunch of leaves or snapping of a twig carrying out into the night to alert them to her and she would be fucked.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the sign for a rest stop up two miles ahead. She'd been keeping an eye out for one. It was deserted when she reached it and she didn't bother checking it over when she arrived, she merely dragged one of the wooden picnic tables over to the edge of the building and climbed on top of it. It was after dark and the only safe place to sleep was up. She tossed her rucksack up onto the roof and rocked back on her heels, bending her knees in preparation to jump when someone grabbed her from behind and clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Hello, Princess, we've been looking all over for you," a deep voice purred in her ear and her eyes widened in recognition. That was the soldier in charge of the auctions that had taken her and Gretchen. That had hacked Gretchen's head off with a dull ax. He abruptly turned her around in his arms and shoved her off the table and onto the ground. She land face first in the dirt and grass and looked up to watch as his silhouette step down off the table after her.

"That fucking stunt you pulled back at Mountaincrest cost us a lot of ammo and supplies," he snapped at her. "We had it good. Kept what we wanted, sold what we didn't wanted or what would make us the most profit-just like we did with you-and we could do whatever the fuck we wanted, to whoever we wanted, whenever we wanted. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, y'know?" He suddenly bent down and hauled her up by her hair, his face a mere centimeter from hers. "You even blew up there fucking armory you stupid cunt! You fucked us! You fucking fucked us."

He pulled at her hair extra hard as he dragged her out into the gravel parking lot and tossed her down yet again. She grunted on impacted and coughed as the dust swirled around her and drift off into the chilled night air. Ice shot through her veins as a series of headlights clicked on one after the other and several men in fatigues stepped out in to form a small semi-circle from behind her.

"So, here's how it's going to go," he told her, stepping toward her and she took in his appearance for the first time. Close cropped black hair, eyes so brown they were black, and a face that looked as though it had never smiled once in all its existence. She had the distinct impression she wasn't getting out of this alive. Or even maimed. He was right in front of her now and she had to lift herself up on the palms of her hands to stare up at him. "Since, you fucked us over that badly, destroyed any chances of us recouping our losses, and pretty much filled up our territory with even more deadheads with that little fireworks display of yours, I think it's only fair that you pay us back."

He circled her slowly, "Each and everyone of us is going to fuck the holy hell out of you until you're a bloody mess. Then, I'm going to cut your head of just like I did to that bitch friend of yours, and mount it on my truck like a fucking hood ornament. So," he stepped up to her and she fell back and crawled backwards on the gravel to get away from him. "Pike, Benitez, hold her down."

There were hands on her and she was pinned and there was laughter just like before. But Julie felt no fear this time. She remembered Gretchen. She remembered her words and all she felt was anger. Julie tried to pull her arms free by lunging forward and the men holding her down laughed. "Love a girl with fight in her," one of them chuckled into her ear and she smashed the side of her head into hit face. Stars danced across her vision and became more vivid when he backhanded her in retaliation.

"I get it," he sneered down at her condescendingly as he slowly unbuckled his belt, "you're nervous, you're scared, it's a lot to take in. To come to terms with, but it's going to happen and you need to accept it." He fell to his knees in front of her and then snapped his fingers as if in afterthought. "Maybe we need some music to put you in the mood? Someone put some music on! Something romantic!"

They were all laughing loudly, hooting and whistling and cheering and some were even clapping and the tear that threatened to build up in her dry eyes receded as she focused in the music. Peter Cetera's "Glory of Love"?

"You motherfucking, cocksucking, shit-eating, bitch-faced, bunch of pussies," she screamed, gratified when he reeled back from her in surprise. "You think Peter Cetera's gonna put me in the mood for your micro-dick?!"

"Watch your mouth," he roared, leaning down on her and she took the opportunity lunge up at him again, and bit down hard until she tasted blood. Even then, she didn't stop, even as he screamed in horror and shoved at her shoulders and the two men holding her, turned into three and they were trying hard to pull her off of him. Finally, they were separated, when the chunk of flesh she'd managed to clamp onto tore off into her mouth and she spat it out at him, laughing victoriously when she realized it had been his nose.

"Fuck this," one of the men snapped and pulled out a bowie knife, "hold her down. Time to repay the favor."

The sound of several guns cocking and a couple dozen people whistling silenced them. Even Julie stopped struggling. and tried to look over her shoulder to see what was happening. "Is this an open house party or invite only?"

Whoever it was sounded sinisterly jovial. Judging by the sound of their boots scuffling along the gravel, they practically swaggered over and Julie watched as the shadow they cast due to the lit headlights, slithered over the men like a snake. "I'm assuming I'm invited to this shit party since you're in my fucking territory without my fucking permission. I mean, not inviting me...that would just be fucking rude."

He was on her right side now, one hand tucked into the pocket of his pants, brandishing a baseball bat wrapped up in barbed wire, a smile on his face, and sporting a black leather jacket like a greaser from a 50's horror movie about aliens from outer space or something. He pointed the bat at the men crowded around her and nudged the closest one in the shoulder roughly. "How about, you inconsiderate fucking fucks, let the lady go and get in line with the rest of your prick friends?"

They dropped her immediately and she winced as the gravel bit into her bare arms and she twisted halfway around to push herself up on her hands. The man with the bat barely spared her a glance as he followed them and she followed his line of sight to where the men had all been forced down onto their knees and stripped of their weapons. Their leader was still lying in the gravel, clutching the gaping wound in the middle of his face, and sobbing.

"You too, Pinocchio. Get your bitch-ass up and fall in line," he urged, an edge to his voice. The wounded soldier pulled himself into the line on his hands and knees, moaning as he went.

The man with the bat sauntered back and forth in front of the line of men, grinning widely. He tipped his bat over his shoulder towards the cars. "Peter Cetera. Not my first choice, for fucking, but to each his own. I'd have gone with Richard Marx personally if we're going with the power ballads.

"Now, my name is Negan. And this wonderful little slice of Virginia that you fucks have so cavalierly decided to trample through belongs to me. And all the shit in it, belongs to me. It is mine. And I gotta say boys," he chuckled, rubbing at his salt and pepper goatee, "I'm a little pissed off that you thought it was okay to come to my house and just start taking my shit. Are you the same fucks that have been offing my runners down here? Yeah, I think you are. Oh, I have been looking forward to this fucking night for a fucking long time."

He crouched down in front of the soldier to the right of the one in charge, who was still an inconsolable mess. "Now, normally, I'd make you give me your shit, tell you you belong to me, and make you bring me more shit. That's the system and how it works and it works well and everyone goes about their business and I don't have to get pissed and come out here and fucking deal with shit like this. But you've killed off three different groups that I have out here and cost me a lot of shit that I wanted. That alone, is really un-fucking-cool." He paused and cocked his head to the side as the song on the car stereo switched to the familiar strains of Juice Newton's "Angel of the Morning" and his grin widened in amusement. "Surprisingly, this is better. I'd fuck to this. Simon," he hollered loudly, "grab that CD for me."

He stood up and his expression darkened and he pointed his bat behind him and right at Julie. "But then, I catch you doing this shit?" Julie finally pulled herself up on unsteady feet, unsure of just what was happening. It was, in all fairness, a lot to comprehend. She brushed some of the dust and dirt from the skirt of her dress and noted that the fabric at the hem was tattered and caked with mud, which made her frown. It had been a really nice dress.

"You okay, Sweetheart," baseball bat Greaser-Negan-asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She nodded mutely and he gestured for her to come toward him as he continued to stare down at the men cowering before him. "Now, I want you to apologize and I want you to really fucking mean it or it's going to make this whole thing even more drawn out than it already has to be. And I'm not in the best of moods since I had to come all the fucking way out here myself to deal with you shits. I mean, you killed a lot of nice people who gave me a lot of nice shit. So, let's hear it."

"I'm sorry," he said through clenched teeth, brown eyes glaring daggers at the pair standing over him. Negan threw his head back and laughed. "Well, that was bullshit. Let's try it with some fucking sincerity this time, if you fucking please."

"Fuck you," the man spat, "I'm not apologizing to that stupid cunt!" Negan whistled as the man continued to snarl incoherently. Negan even laughed loudly, but Julie could tell, underneath the thin layer of mirth, he was furious at having been defied. The man whirled on her. "You fucking whore. We should have fucking bent you over when we had the chance! Fucked you up worse than they did at Mountaincrest! First chance I get, I'm gonna ram my knife so far up your tore up-"

Somehow, his words ignited the spark that was needed to unleash the fury within her. It had been kept at bay by starvation and exhaustion, but the amount of adrenaline coursing through her veins now was the catalyst that brought it to life. Without even considering the consequences, Julie snatched the bat out of the hand of the man standing next to her and brought it down on the ranting soldier's head with a resounding crack, letting out a long drawn out howl of rage as she did so, being sure to bring the bat down over and over again until she was beating pinkish-red pulp into the gravel. Without pause, she swung to the left, letting the bat crash into the side of the man whose nose she bitten off and it obliterated the right side of his face. And it felt good-finally having someone one to release all her pent up anger on. Maybe she would feel guilty when it was over, maybe she wouldn't. Right now, she didn't care. All she cared about was freeing the anger that had been bottled up for too long. And she realized somewhere in the back of her rage-filled mind that the way she was screaming as she continued to beat in their heads-that she was beating someone's head in at all-was definitely insane. But it just felt so good.

Once he, too, was a caved in puddle of mush, she drew back a step and turned to look at the man who was frozen beside her in wide-eyed shock. It was eerily silent save for the music drifting in around them. Suddenly very self-conscious, Julie cleared her throat and pushed her hair over her shoulder, before handing the bat back to the man standing before her. "Thank you," she managed demurely as she smoothed down the front her dress and focused her eyes back on the line of men who were still kneeling before them. Most of them were crying now. The man, Negan, was staring down at his bat-more specifically, at the blood and bits of brain matter coating the barbed wiring-and Julie stubbornly refused to look at him. It was easier to look at the crying men. They were far less intimidating. And she was also very embarrassed at her outburst.

"Ho-ly. Fucking. Shit," Negan breathed out beside her, garnering her attention once again and she blushed, still embarrassed and very confused as to why he was looking at her like that. He turned his body toward her fully, eyes twinkling with laughter and he grinned what had to be the most charming grin she'd ever had tossed her way as he swung his bat up to rest on his shoulder. "I think I'm in fucking love."

To be continued?...