Sigil

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Bus Skills: N/A

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Ash took to memory the rundown of their expectations as soon as they all got back to CMB. He still had to report back to Mechanics and continue cleaning up whatever horror had been perpetrated upon the ladies' bathroom therein. He recalled the fact that he had started to clean it once and likewise recalled the tiny amount of relief that he felt when he learned that he was being moved over to the men's bathroom. The irony this time being that, unlike what conventional wisdom might have one believe about the less sanitary habits of the Y-chromosome bearing population, that room was near to pristine in comparison. Still, as fit the ethos of his upbringing and training, every job was important. His work ethic had never taken a hit, even if most other qualities about him had taken a bit of reshaping over the past five years.

So he had more to do. This would require him to stay late, which wasn't so much of a big deal except that he was also expected at optional therapy that evening, starting at the same time that the evening meal did. Unless he was bid an enthusiastic farewell from Rivets, or whomever was in charge of his assigned area, with the up-front understanding that he would not be back until the next morning, Ash was going to have himself a late night on his first workday. On the upside, Ash wasn't a huge fan of leaving a job unfinished. On the other hand, he did want to eventually get back to Thana that evening and be in good enough condition to enjoy her company on multiple levels. Taking a mental note of the upcoming few hours, Ash had a half hour to report to Mechanics and receive orders. Then therapy at 1800. Then the uncertainty of work or supper. Unless the issue had been handled in his absence, it was going to take a lot more than a half hour to fix what was wrong with that room.

It was the price of being the new guy, he supposed. And it definitely wouldn't be the first time he'd have to skip a regular meal. Though in truth, the entire line of thought was a mix of maybes and supposition. Lacking anything resembling an official answer, nor even the ability to speak with someone who could give him one, all of this was a jumble of facts that, like a jigsaw puzzle, needed to be moved around and fitted together to make a clear image. Things would be more apparent after he got inside and checked in with his superiors.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Bus Skills: N/A

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Thalia liked to sit and observe. Usually, this preference was from a distance, safely hidden away someplace with a very low probability of detection. The reasons had been many, though mostly it was a question of survival or to determine if people were hostile without walking up and handing them a questionnaire. Mostly she just let people pass on by, those who were going by. Or she might just move along herself without revealing her presence. But here she was, caught in a bus with a bunch of people, half of whom were acquaintances at best doing anything that she could to take her mind off of the weight that pressed down upon it.

Now, what she observed as she sat with her knees to her chest, braced against the unnatural chill of the bus's air conditioning, gave her the slightest amount of pause. Even cracked a little smile despite herself. The people who arrived from the other group, the one with Navy's boyfriend, seemed very much separate from one another. With the exception of the two shaved girls who seemed preternaturally attached, they all appeared to be making an effort to separate from each other. Even the ballerina pulling away from her husband. Maybe it meant something and maybe it didn't, but her observations of these people piqued her interest.

It was then that she noticed that Alexander had reached a hand out to her across the aisle. Whether it was a show of solidarity or a man who needed some form of reassurance, Thalia didn't particularly care. She reached out and took his hand, holding it for a number of seconds before giving it a final squeeze and pulling her arm back to herself. Whatever was going on with the others didn't especially concern her. She had a handful of people she could honestly say she gave a rat's ass about, and they deserved at least a token reminder.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Bus Skills: N/A

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Emotional roller coaster. Not one of the big, showy ones with tunnels, flashing lights, and loops; more like one of the old-fashioned, wooden braced ones that carried you in a jerky but generally safe, predicable direction. Nevertheless, it had a series of ups and downs. It felt good to tell the story about James's arrival to Newnan, especially to relate it to those who knew him well but who came into their fold afterward. Considering the insanely high mortality rate of any and everyone around Ash, he felt much like a man speaking of events across generations, telling the new generation about the exploits of the former. Like a grandfatherly type. At the age of thirty-four, Ash felt old. If he lived to see his hair grey and his skin show the rough passage of time, he would feel just as venerable as he did right then. All the same, Ash was glad to get the words out, or any such monologue over the bones of his fallen friend. Carrying it around for this time was a weight on his shoulders which he eventually had just become accustomed, likely in a way that was unhealthy.

Now, he sat in a bus with functional air conditioning near a retirement/vacation city in Florida. Granted, they weren't there to see the sights. If the world had progressed as it might have, his reasons for being in the Sunshine State would be vastly different. He would be a Major by now, bucking to join up with the 20th Engineer Brigade's leadership. They made plenty of noise back in the day. Ash figured that they weren't making very much noise anymore. And thinking of it, if he was with the 20th proper rather than merely a company provisionally attached, he would probably still have been back in Afghanistan when the whole "dead rising" thing happened. As it was, his unit was called back to the Atlanta area before the really bad stuff happened. One of the last things he heard before communication went dark was the utter mess the Middle East was in, or his slice of it. RIP 20th, Ash supposed. Further contemplation on the issue had him empathizing with the other survivors. What plans did they have? Thana the Naval Officer, Jack the Chicago Cop, Tatiana the Prima Ballerina. A bona fide music superstar in the bus with them, too. The ones living workaday lives probably had their own hopes and dreams; putting a down payment on their first home, maybe, or starting a family. Things that they could work toward with the knowledge that their labor and good sense might eventually pay off.

Would things ever stabilize? One day years from now, might Ash return to his home town in the Virginia hills to rebuild the family business in ancestral land? Was it even worth it now? He had a home here, he loved someone, and he had an extended family brought about by circumstance and trust of the highest magnitude. If he could go back home and make it work now, would he even want to? Maybe, eventually, and only after several specific and highly unlikely things fell into place.

This and many passing thoughts went through Ash's mind as he stared out of the window of the bus. One thing was for certain, as far as Ash was concerned: He was a U.S. Army trained Combat Engineer. Rebuilding out of destruction and maintaining it was his forte. Clearing the way was the credo of his profession. Destroying the opposition of these tasks was his bread and butter. If his path was Florida for the foreseeable, then that's where he'd do his work, and the future would sort itself out.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Bus Skills: N/A

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Adjusting to the humidity outside was bad enough. Now that she had a layer of perspiration and ambient Florida on her, coming back into the air conditioned bus was even worse. The sudden shift in temperature was becoming bothersome to Thalia. She clutched herself together, unwilling for the chill air to touch her any more than it needed to. But this was silly. Stroke inducing temperatures hovered out of doors and she was caught up by central air. The raw absurdity of it was enough to elicit a quiet scoff from her as she brought her knees up to her chest and put her arms around them. Not for the first time, Thalia drew comparison between herself and a stray cat; once domesticated yet now a feral product of its surroundings.

It had been a long time since Thalia had attended a funeral. She didn't care for them much. In her case, she had been to a good number of them. Her father was a priest, after all. It came with the territory. Mostly the somber sort of affair, though every so often members of her family would insist upon the old ways of honoring the dead which were hopelessly mixed with pre-Catholic Mexican tradition, honoring the dead with a lavish sort of celebratory glee. This was not one of those occasions, obviously. And considering that it was done within a very short time of the guest of honor's passing, it might have been inappropriate. Thalia made a mental note to ask the Padre if they did Dia de los Muertos in CMB. It seemed like honoring the dead might be a worthwhile endeavor, possibly more now than it used to be. Still, Thalia did not care for funerals much. Though she was glad this one, such as it was, happened. And was brief.

The bus seemed a very somber place, moreso than the ride out to the cemetery. "Thank you," she was compelled to say aloud, though to whom she was unsure. Her eyes flicked from one of their chaperones to another. The opportunity to bid friends and allies farewell was appreciated. Now all she was left with was her thoughts - about her good friend Lola, the man James (who she knew for a half hour yet still changed her life dramatically), and about Gavin.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: CMB Graveyard -> Bus Skills: N/A

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Thoughts lingered on the fallen. Ash knew that they would. It was more than a possibility; it was certainty wrapped with a big red bow. The trick was to prevent those thoughts from stealing awareness of the moment away. Even Ash had to admit that it was more of a redundancy, however. These people looked to be trained and following a protocol with little in the way of verbal discourse, suggesting practice, experience, and familiarity with the procedure. A squad of trained soldiers could scarcely do any better. It brought more attention to the fact that, in a community run by former military, they were pretty much all trained soldiers in one way or another. It made him anxious to get involved with that sort of ethically managed organization again. Even if he wasn't the guy in charge. But his thoughts still went to their friends and allies interred here, at least in a peripheral way, as he held his position and scanned the area.

An eyebrow went up as he thought that he heard something inappropriate come from the mouth of that Gonzalez woman. His head turned just enough to confirm his suspicions, though two questions bugged him: Why this moment for a situationally unanswerable question, and why those two? His eyes narrowed a little, putting this away in memory. At least the woman didn't touch off a screaming match in the middle of uncertain ground.

Continued diligence on his part was necessary for only a second or two more before the Padre made the call to pack it in. He waited until Amelia and Riley had walked past him on the way to the bus before making his move to do the same. It put a body between the two women and whomever else might come up behind them. A hair chauvinist or instinctively protective of his small knot of those close to him, only his psychiatrist might be able to fathom. As he neared the bus, Ash went through the police and military procedures for the return of a firearm. He'd done it hundreds of times in his life, easily. It was centering, in a way. The act showed not only that he was Army, but that he hadn't abandoned the principles. Further, it promoted safety standards for their guards and showed a willingness to follow the rules set forth for them. With this in mind, Ashton stopped upon entering the bus activated the safety on his lent sidearm and racked the slide of his .45, freeing the chambered round. He ejected the magazine into his hand, and handed the three items separately to Bass for verification before returning to his seat.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: CMB Graveyard -> Bus Skills: N/A

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Still in the immediate vicinity of Atticus, Thalia cocked a lightly amused expression as the two Newnan women started back to the bus. It was impossible for her not to have heard the call, given her proximity to the guy. Still, she hung back a little bit, lest there be quiet rumors circulating about aggressive promiscuity on her part. Naturally, the lack of fuck-giving concerning rumors about things of this nature was strong with her, nevertheless this was not the time nor place. The main reason Thalia even broached the topic was to distract away from the harder expression and combative stance that she has adopting involuntarily. And to mess with people. It was an excellent way to reveal character.

As she started back to the bus, two interesting details did come to mind about her tiny piece of sarcasm. First, the redhead didn't say no. Second, the singer chick, Riley, didn't say anything. Contemplative, maybe? Mulling it over, perhaps? Probably not, but the idea amused her enough that she let out a single, quiet growl that could have passed as a laugh. Also a factor, involving one's self physically in a way that couldn't result in pregnancy was ideal. Fluidity of this nature was a recent-ish development for Thalia. Adaptation to the times, or revelation of character on her part was still up for debate.

Nearing the bus, it was painfully apparent that she was going to have to give up her arms. The gun was no big deal, but that shield was her fucking property. And sentimental at that. It hardened her face significantly. Before boarding, Thalia went to one knee and placed the weapon behind her other one, using muscle pressure to hold the slide while she actuated it to eject the chambered round. The magazine came next, and Thalia took the additional second or two to reinsert the single round into the clip, her one natural hand cradling the apparatus as she pressed the bullet home with her thumb. She then replaced the magazine, checked the safety, and entered the bus to hand it over to Bass. The shield went a little less easily. She looked the man in the eye, glanced Joaquin and Daytona for a half second, and turned it over with a grim nod. They were supposed to trust. It just didn't come readily. This was life now. Less open and free, better chance at overall survival.

Thalia took her seat and looked around, hoping to spy her friends from the long road before. Alexander and Manny might not look like people out of Mad Max, but she knew they had history just as valid as hers. Why then was she so angry? ”Let's get back, Mugs. Stuff to do." Process emotion through work.

Then it hit Thalia, she had yet to hear any sort of jaunty nickname for Manny. Something to think about.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: CMB Graveyard Skills: N/A

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Ash was a man who showed his emotions by actions; usually background actions at that. He provided for, exchanging slices of his time and sleep to ensure that others were safe and fed. Potentially at the cost of his own well-being. This was who he was. Not just during the onset of the apocalypse, either - he was noted for this during his career with the Army, looking to the needs of the people under his command. Displays of emotion were uncommon for him. Likewise, support in a more personal way was not exactly his forte. Yet the last chapter in his life had changed him in an incremental way. So much as he was interested in resuming some semblance of duty to his friends and support their escorts in maintaining site security, Jack and Tatiana appeared on the periphery of his senses. The need to uphold civil duty fell away as he strode over to them and swept them both into a familial embrace.

It didn't last long, and in fact when Ash pulled away he looked to be a little surprised at himself. People hugging while packing heat openly was not precisely the mainstay of yesteryear. It was previously a thing which was out of character for the man, anyway. Still, life was change. And if he had a moment of being a little more open in his grief (which previously he might have called a moment of weakness) in the midst of something that might drive others to even more open shows of emotion, then this could very well be considered a sign of progress on his part. Psychologically speaking, anyway. "Yeah, sorry. Ah, about that..." he said softly, his Virginian accent inflecting with greater emphasis than usual. Certain things he still had difficulties expressing.

Following what might have been an awkward moment of recovery, Ash straightened himself up and reassumed the outward demeanor of a soldier, if not exactly uniformed as such. He looked again in the direction of Amelia and Riley, who seemed content to stand their watch near the priest, and gave them a little nod. These four were what remained of his family from Newnan - such as family existed for any of them anymore, choice in the matter was just as valid as blood. Possibly even more. Ash would spend the remainder of the time staying with the group, having their backs and trusting implicitly that they would have his. Having said his peace, Ash took to watch.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: CMB Graveyard Skills: N/A

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Thalia's features softened a little when Atticus put Lola's information down on paper. She wouldn't have to handle it herself, which was probably for the best considering that she had half a mind to sneak out of the community with a pointy metal implement and do the job herself, if that was the only option open to her over time. "Gracias," she rasped quietly, taking a step away so that others might speak with him, if they suddenly felt the need to.

Now that the point of their visit out here was concluding, Thalia felt old habits slipping back into her persona. The sorrow of the occasion was being suppressed, as was even her feelings of guilt from earlier. A small amount of anticipation crept in, likely the result of realizing that she was out in the open and not quite at 100%, which galvanized her sense of awareness. Thalia noted the position of Daytona in relation to the others, as well as Atticus. It was a given conclusion that they were not fully trusted confidants of the community yet, and she was curious as to how readily either of their chaperones would put a bullet into anyone present to grieve, were something compromising to occur. But those were just the ones closeby. Thalia likewise noted the movements of Joaquin and Bass. This had all the earmarks of establishing a growing perimeter. Not to mention that the continuing change in position made it more difficult to establish a static plan of action, in anyone on the inside of their circle decided to do something stupid. Her brother might very well be cold blooded enough to put to death every last man and woman present, if it came to that. She knew how her family ticked. Thalia herself might survive such a thing, though not for any superior skill on her part. Familia looked out for familia. Joaquin might pass her over, knowing that she would reciprocate. All the same, she had friends here. It would be a pity and a shame.

But even ignoring this extreme flight of fancy, the look around their immediate surroundings gave her a bit of pause. Tactically speaking HOLY FUCK THE ARMY GUY JUST HUGGED PEOPLE ...ahem, tactically speaking, if outsiders were to want to make a move or capture hostages, staking out a recently utilized graveyard might be a perfect place to do exactly that. Catch them in the middle of a service. No way that the nameless, faceless "They" might know that no one present particularly gave a rat's ass about the most recently interred person there. They did not look to be on advantageous ground if the living attacked. So her thoughts turned to the possibility of escape routes with cover. Already the shield was slowly rising to begin to cover the lower half of her face, and her knees bent slightly to maintain her original height as she moved to the balls of her feet. The motion of her pistol was hidden behind the great shield, tension and readiness gathering in the same moment.

It was about this time that Thalia realized that her expression was likely as hard as her thought process. And she was within plain view of the Padre, plus whomever was standing with him. In this case, the two women from Newnan who were sporting fresh scalp stubble. Adopting a more guarded outlook, Thalia gave a small, partly sarcastic smile. She cocked her head to one side and asked, "Hey, you girls into amputees?" It was unclear whether she was joking or not. The wink she gave didn't help.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: CMB Graveyard Skills: N/A

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Catching sight of nothing amiss underneath the bus, Ash straightened and turned his attention to the rest of the scene in front of them. He blew out a sigh, knowing what was to come next and, while not eager in the classical sense of the word, felt the need to get this done. It was a final piece of respect for those who deserved it. And be it a little selfish, he needed to say a formal goodbye for himself. Ashton solidly began to trudge along behind Atticus as he lead them all down the rows and rows of headstones, taking peripheral note of the intensity of the Florida sun. Ash's weapon remained pointed at the ground in front of him, but his eyes were studious, taking in details around him and alert to any changes which might cause a reassessment of urgency.

Ash was there mostly for one person. As much as he could speak of and/or credit the bravery and excellence of the others well enough, as could others, Ash and James had a bit of history. And he had recognized the man from television, way back before dead folks started gnawing on living ones. He was a colorful guy, and a damn good friend.

When the priest offered to say a few words, Ash kept his hand low and gave a dismissing motion while shaking his head slowly. His preference on the matter, though if others wished for Atticus to speak he would show no objection. Ash didn't know Lola, and apparently no one else did well enough to tack a birthdate on her stone, to his knowledge. He barely had part of a conversation with her once, and that was a while back. Ash briefly stopped at Ryan's grave and considered the man for a moment, then said quietly and clearly, "Ryan O'Reily was a criminal and a grifter. We were never friends. At no time was the man blatantly dishonest with me, though he liked to slant things. In the end, he sacrificed the comforts offered him by Newnan to help James and others. He didn't owe James a thing. I believe that Ryan acted the way he did because it was how he learned to survive in a world that was already against him back Before, and that's all he knew. I also believe that he was trying to redeem himself, and I hope that God took that into account when his soul was judged. His last act earned my respect, for whatever that's worth." Ash stood there, staring down at the grave marker for a moment more, then continued on to James's place of interment.

Ash gave a sad smile in Amelia's direction after hearing her words to the deceased. Reaching out, he squeezed her shoulder as an expression of camaraderie. Her words spoke to a universal feeling in this new world, and reminded him very much of the mindset of army personnel in hot spots. You can get close to people, yet when they were gone, returning to pay respect or mourn was a luxury afforded by very few. Ash wasn't sure what to say about James. He had guilt over how things went between them at the end, there. And as a matter of happenstance, Ash got to see him once more before he died. For that matter, it was at the same time that he got to actually see him die. But thinking about his end reminded Ash about their beginning. How he met the man. The commonly stoic Captain Holloway uncharacteristically got a short-lived but broad smile on his face as his mind drifted a few years back. "James Mandingo Grady," he started, the rural Virginian in his upbringing coloring his voice with more vivid tones, "was a son-of-a-bitch. I liked him almost immediately." Ash looked around at the Newnan folk, and realized that none of them were present the day that James came to their gates. Come to think of it, he really hadn't told anybody what happened after the fact. So he decided to, for anyone who was interested. Ash looked around to Tati, Jack, Riley and Amelia, and began. "The day Mr. Grady graced Newnan with his presence will live in infamy. I don't remember what the official story was for the records, but this is what really happened..."

*******

Hider

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A black and chrome Chevrolet Silverado had been sighted in the distance, running hard and fast in a direct line to Newnan's front gate. They were given a advance notice, but just a little, from the watchtower at the center of town. It was a testament to the diligence of the community but a want of overall manpower available to them. The truck was not their main concern, overall. Hostile entities in a single vehicle could be met with a swift burst of violence; be they lacking in manpower the Newnan Safe Zone did have a stockpile of weapons and enough people formally trained in their use to cover such an eventuality. Their main problem was a far more reaching peril of the new world.

The mid-morning call had already gone over the radios, but instead of an "ALL CLEAR", the day had already decided to get a little interesting. The report of a horde nearby had come back in from a security patrol earlier, so all parties had been given the order to return to base. The last thing they needed was a scavenging or hunting party accidentally leading a horde of the Dead right up to their walls. Newnan's 2nd in command and Executive Officer, Captain Ashton Jameson Holloway, was the ranking officer nearest when the truck had been sighted. He assumed control over the main gate while their Security Lead, a frightening man named Caesar, dealt with defensive points along the walls and personnel in the event that the horde changed direction (like, say, following a bigassed truck right to them).

Ash climbed the simple steps up to the walkway at the gate, giving a stern, stonelike gaze to the approaching Silverado. He loosened his Detonics .45 pistol in its holster and began to steel himself top whatever eventuality was going to strike next. The Newnan's commanding officer, Lt. Colonel Leann McCormick, had been appraised of the situation and was awaiting an update. If Ash knew her only half as well as he did, he knew that she wasn't just going to wait around for people to tell her what was happening. She was tending to her own, self-assigned duties. Nevertheless, it was his responsibility to report in, barring further emergency. Raising his radio to his ear, Ash thumbed it to transmit, yet hesitated. The sour scent of decay had reached his nostrils, brought to him by a change in the wind. There was suddenly more to report. "Oh my god..." issued from the lips of the woman on lookout nearby. Even without binoculars, one could see indistinct and widespread movement on the ground. Shuffling, shambling along, the walking corpses of what might have once been a sizeable community. They might be in for a siege.

"Unknown party in a black Chevy Silverado inbound, Colonel. The Dead are following. Goddamned horde. Will update. Standby." Momentary report to Leann down, now to confer with Security. It was a general transmission, so anyone with a walkie knew what was happening. Such as their Security Lead. "Caesar, we have a little time. Round up some vehicles and see if you can redirect. I've got the gate." The growl from the other end of the radio was affirmation enough. Be it precious little time to prepare, they still had options.

The truck slammed on its brakes at the end of the bridge in front of the main gate, fishtailing and swerving until it came to a stop a few feet from the walls proper. The horn sounded with maniacal repetition, slammed upon by a man who looked half crazed and scared out of his wits. Leaning out of the truck, he screamed and begged to be let in. Blood ran from his arm and shoulder in several places (that could be seen), though from that vantage it was difficult to see exactly what kind of injuries they were. Still, this was an injured man, alone, and there were undoubtedly enough bullets on the Newnan side of the wall to neutralize the him if he was a threat. "Drive in slow," Ash called down, his voice loud, clear, and booming with authority. "Then come out of the truck with your hands up. I see a weapon, you die. Get me?" The man nodded, and Ash motioned for the gatekeepers.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly enough. The truck pulled in, the man got out. He was cooperative, if extremely shaky. A paranoid jitter to his features might be explained by the fact that he was hurt and scared, but Ash thought he saw something more. "Stay back, keep those guns on him," he ordered the security detail for the gate. "Hold him right there for a minute. And close those gates up." Ash was certain that something wasn't quite right about the situation. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

As he made his way down the stairs, Ash heard the lookout let out an exclamation of pure disbelief. "What th' hell is that?" The tone she used didn't denote fear, or any more than was already present, but actual surprise.

It piqued Ash's interest enough to return to the top of the wall. "If he moves, shoot him." This to the security below. Peering over the side of the wall, he could see that the horde had indeed gotten closer, but there was something else that he couldn't quite make out just ahead.

"Shondi," called Ash curtly. The sound of her name snapped the lookout back into the moment, and she quickly turned her attention to Ash. The Captain held out his hand and finished with the single-word order of, "Rifle." True, Ash had a sidearm. But she had a weapon with a scope. He trained the weapon down to the scene below, eager to find out what might have possibly distracted a reliable guard away from a full horde of walking corpses coming right for them. When Ash finally saw what she did, he had to wholeheartedly agree with his subordinate. "What the hell is that?"

It was a man in overalls and a cowboy hat, the latter blown off of his head and hanging around the back of his neck by a cord. Ebon skin, drenched with perspiration, reflected the morning sunlight. Even at this distance, one could make out the huge splotch of blood running down from somewhere above his hairline and saturating his mostly white t-shirt. He looked like his body might give out at any moment, with nothing but a stubborn refusal to die keeping him on his feet. The man might have made better time, except that for whatever ungodly reason, he was dragging a full sized commercial smoker behind him by a truck hitch like a massively overloaded pack animal. It was still operating. Smoke poured out of the chimney vents, and by the way it lumbered over the pavement behind him it was most certainly loaded down, though with what remained to be ascertained.

Ash risked a glance down to the Silverado parked just inside of the gate, then back to the man outside and his suicidal affection for his giant, woodfueled smoker being hounded down by a creeping wall of corpses. "You seeing this, Shondi?" he asked, his voice taking on a similar note of disbelief.

"Yes sir, Mr. Ash. Saw it first. You seein' this?"

"Yeah..." responded Ash distantly.

"What do you think we ought do, sir?" she inquired.

It was a head scratcher. Luckily, the man in question had his own opinion on the matter, and he has now within earshot. "Open ...th' god damn... door!" It was near breathless and at the poorer end of human hearing, but he still had the strength to call out for help. Kind of. "C'mon man! PLEASE ...open... th' god damn ...?" To his credit, he did say please. He was on the bridge now, at the far end. The dead were beginning to filter in behind him. This was a now or never situation. Ash knew it. This man knew it. He didn't look like he had the strength left to run any farther and he sure as hell couldn't fight his way back out of it. Coming this way was a gamble with his life; if they didn't let him in, he was going to die at their threshold. "Y'all make a hole or don't!" he exclaimed, one final surge of energy quickening his pace. Muscles flexed, feet gripping the pavement beneath him, and an expression of grim determination that signified a surge of survival rage enflamed his features. One foot in front of the other one bore him and his precious cargo forward, with a roar of, "Here I come, muthafuckas! RaAAAaAAH!"

Ash quickly gauged the space between the horde and the unnamed man. They had time, but it had to be quick. He'd made his decision. "Gate! Get the gate!" he yelled, tossing Shondi back her rifle and running back down the stairs. "Shut it the second he's in!" Somehow, Ash didn't think they needed to be told that, given the situation.

It didn't look like the running man could stop once he (barely) made it through the gate. The full weight of his smoker kept him going forward for a few paces longer than he had intended, coupled with his failing muscles. Finally, he was able to Fred Flintstone the apparatus to a stop and collapse, his weight supported by the very hitching he was recently pulling on. Heavy, laborious breaths gasped in and out of his lungs, but he now wore a smile, broad and genuine, which seemed to take up most of his face. "Thank ya, thank ya... Hoo, thankya thankya thankya..." he heaved between gulping breaths of air. "Imma buy you a beer, sure 'nuff."

The man who arrived by truck, still at gunpoint, began to look guilty and extremely nervous. "I, ah... no. He'll kill me! He'll - he'll kill us all, I mean! Don't let him..." He seemed to lose whatever thought he was trying to verbalize, instead looking back at the closed gate, seemingly weighing his options.

Coming up on the latest arrival, Ash kept one hand near his pistol. Something still didn't seem right, but at the same time, this man looked very familiar. Looking to the guards, he ordered, "Water," to which one of them tossed the Captain a canteen. Ash offered it over to the exhausted man, who took a couple short drinks at a time, interspersed by pouring part of the contents over his face. Ash looked to him and offered a hand up, saying, "I know you. Don't I?"

Accepting the hand, and trusting a lot of his weight to Ash, the new arrival responded, "Naw. Well, maybe." He was still breathing hard, but the moment of water and respite did wonders for him. "You might'a seen me on th' television, if you into that hoggin' an' stuff back in th' day." He breathed out another relieved breath, long and slightly shuddering.

"I do know you. You're..." began Ash.

He was summarily cut off by an upbeat voice, "James Mandingo Grady, at yo service!" Her reached out and shook Ash's hand with a hair of formality, continuing, "If y'all're pressed for time, Black James, tout suite." He swallowed another mouthful of water and handed the canteen over to Ash, saying, "Excuse me just a sec, please? I forgot somethin'."

A fraction of a second later, Black James whipped a Beretta M9 out of the back of his overalls and plugged two shots into the side of the head of the first man to arrive. He didn't even bother looking away, understanding fully that every gun in the immediate area was trained on him now and the only thing keeping him from getting shot many, many times over was his proximity to the Captain. "...get y'self bit, club out yo' partner an' leave him to get eat up, STEAL A MAN'S MUTHAFUCKIN' TRUCK?" Now that he had the capacity for expectoration, James spit in the general direction of the freshly dead guy, then immediately let his weapon hit the ground. Slowly, he turned his head back toward Ash, assuming one of the cheesiest, most potentially troublemaking grins humanly possible while staring down the barrel of a .45 pistol. Cocking his head back to the smoker at his side, he offered in a remarkably positive voice, "Y'all hungry? I brought lunch."

*******

Though his face was unmoving, tears had formed in Ash's eyes. "There was whole, huge, perfectly smoked hog in that thing, too. Best meal we'd had in months." He shook his head wistfully. "In the same circumstance, I might make different decisions now than I did back then. But it would have deprived me of a good friend and one of the biggest assets that we had. James Grady was the heart of Newnan. He helped pull me out of a dark place. I'm never going to forget him." Wiping his eyes, he gave a final, "Rest in peace, Black James."

Ashton shifted his weapon to his left hand and straightened to full military attention. He threw a point-on salute, held it for a moment, and stepped away. His words were done, and now he followed the example of Amelia, taking a more alert watch so that the others might do what they needed to in as much safety as could be provided.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: CMB Graveyard Skills: N/A

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Perhaps now was the time to shut up and listen. Following the example of her brother, Thalia restricted her thoughts to the internal only for the meantime and focused on taking in what information that she could. Dimsdale. From the sound of it, the guy might have been pretty dim. It was painfully tactically unsound, pulling a move like that. Especially when he knew the prevailing attitudes of the people around him. He must have known that he wasn't likely to get help, so that brought a couple of possibilities to mind. Either Dimsy was suicidal, which a lot of people were nowadays, or he was desperate. Or both. But why would he be desperate? On the face of it, this made no sense. But Thalia didn't know much of anything about Mexico Beach except for their Quarantine setup. There was a near infinite set of "maybes" that could explain what happened. Oddly, she doubted that this place harbored some dark and foreboding secret that drove a man to bash his head against prison bars until he died. Moreover, why would someone come out and tell a newcomer this if they were hiding something? Unfortunately, the only person who knew for certain was under a heap of dirt and he wasn't talking. "Thanks," she rasped out to Daytona, pressing forward with the rest of the group.

Her brother's sudden change in attitude gave Thalia a moment of pause. Her uncle had that kind of demeanor all the time, so she was used to it. And her father (the Father) had more of a businesslike yet supportive way about him, with his personal demons brought out like a tool when necessary. Much like herself, yet she was not the tower of iron will that her father was. Everyone in her family was born with a slice of violence in them. Everyone seemed to express it a little differently. It was like a curse. Or a blessing. But it seemed now that Joaquin was in his own sphere of professional stoicism. They were back out in the world, and even though this whole outing was for her benefit as well as others, she could not afford to become lax or too sentimental now. Thalia hefted her shield in her artificial hand, getting a better feel for how it needed to operate with her abbreviated manual dexterity, and trudged onward.

Thinking back to the bus, Thalia noted that the stress must have been getting to Manny. That kind of a blowup was unlike him. She might actually try to ask what it was all about, even though it was very much not her business. All the same, pissing off the guy who just handed you a loaded weapon seemed a hair counterproductive. Maybe the old guy just needed a thorough oil change. CMB had everything else, why not dedicated prostitutes, too? The world's oldest profession sure as hell didn't die out just because of a world-bending apocalypse. A thought for another time. Or never, ever again.

Observant eyes kept darting around their surroundings. Places of open ground made her a little uncomfortable, even though she was toward the middle of an armed group of fellow survivors. When finally in front of the resting places of their friends and allies, Thalia didn't really know what to do. Raised for the latter half of her childhood by a Catholic priest, she was exposed to these kinds of ceremonies from an early age. But she still didn't know what to do. Her adopted battle sisters of Fairburn had a very simple rite for this, yet none of these people were part of that. And Lola, for all of her peculiarities, wasn't religious enough to ever get into a deep conversation about it with her. After a piece of time, and after she shook her head no to Atticus's offer to say a few words.

"She was not one of your followers, Nuestra Dama de la Muerte, but as all things which live come to you eventually, you had a moment to meet Lola Holler. I pray you embraced her with mercy, as she was a good friend to me. Permit her travel where her soul is most comfortable, and when you summon me to you, take from me what you think is a fair exchange. Amen."

Not the traditional Santa Muerte prayer for the occasion, but she was not specifically a follower of the old Aztec gods of death. Like her father and mother, Thalia was Catholic. Darkly so, but Catholic nonetheless. The influence was obvious, however. To her, Death was an abstract force of existence; it was an inevitability, the only promise that was truly unbreakable. To think of Death as a woman made sense to her, and if this was anthropomorphized by a culture into which she was rooted, then why not borrow it? To others who did not know her or her family intimately, it looked very much like she was praying directly to Death Herself, rather than an aspect of Mary or the true Catholic saint that had influence in easing the dead onward, Gertrude.

She rose, and added, "You died with a song on your lips. My sisters would be proud." Conversely, she looked to James's grave, giving him a simple, "Thank you." Without him, Thalia wouldn't have known what she did about her family. He was also the first domino that fell, bringing her to his place and the people she considered friends, and her estranged brother Joaquin.

She couldn't bring herself to say anything to Gavin's grave, though. There was just a quiet moment standing nearby. She was with him literally at the moment that he died. Knowing his death was coming, she used him as improvised cover and killed a lot more people, later to include the cult leader in charge of the shitshow known as Eden. Potentially saved Thana's life in the process. But the kneejerk reaction to do what she did shocked her in hindsight. There really wasn't an apology that existed for doing what she did to Gavin. Thalia's face turned into something brutal as self-loathing ripped through her. She had to talk to someone about this. She was a tough woman, of this there was no doubt. But she wasn't stupid. And she was self aware enough to know that this might damage her if she didn't come to peace with it. Deep inside, she wished that she was still in Eden, her face painted with ash and char to resemble a skull, perpetually killing her enemies until her Lady called finally called her home. This was a dangerous mindset to be in right now.

Thalia tried to shake it off. She walked over to Atticus and pointed at Lola's grave marker, reciting to him, "Lola Rebekah Holler, born October 14th, 1978." If she had the tools to scratch it into the stone herself, she would have.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: The Bus -> Graveyard Skills: N/A

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The good news was that Ash's impulse to inspect and ready his lent firearm was not taken as a potential act of hostility, and as such did not invoke the swift, dramatic wrath of persons toward his rear or flank who already had functional weapons and the capacity to use them. They had said that the entire point to the act of giving them armaments was for self defense, though Ash suspected that having them as armed backup wasn't a wholly bad idea in case the shit really hit the fan. Still, merely supposition on his part. He was a military engineering officer once upon a time, prone to viewing situations as a set of obstacles to overcome with the resources available to him; animal, vegetable, mineral, or other. People were always an asset. Armed people one could trust were even better.

As the others filed out of the bus, Ash found himself falling into an old habit. His first impulse was to exit the bus at the lead, stepping into an unknown situation before the others in an effort to clear the path, if necessary. This was supplanted by the understanding that he was very much not the guy in charge and the responsibility wasn't his. However, the sudden rise on his part followed by a stony expression of resignation might be noticed for what it was by another of his relative background. He could have laughed at himself. Maybe a chuckle or two, anyway. With a shake of his head, Ash filed in line with everyone else. He held his pistol with the barrel pointing down, finger outside of the trigger guard. Ash recalled the words of the man called Bass, saying that Thana said he could handle it. If he was actually speaking about Ash. There was a little uncertainty as to whether Bass was speaking to him or to the Gonzalez woman a couple seats up. Whichever way, it was true that he could handle a .45 pistol. Years of experience, Army man, and all. So he was probably not speaking about Ash.

There was a tiny pause before Ash stepped out of the bus, upon arrival. He could feel the threshold of temperature change right at the doorway, and took in a deep breath before continuing. It reminded him of his time in La América del Sur, back when he was a younger Lieutenant. One never did get used to walking from air conditioning into an equatorial jungle, not completely. So he took in a lungful of the intermediate air and slowly exhaled as he exited the bus, into the comparatively sweltering air of Florida in the summer, without so much as a decent coastal breeze to keep the muggy air at bay. The heat and humidity of their surroundings enveloped him, and he did not risk breathing in until he had acclimated some. Ash scanned the surroundings, thumbing the safety off of his pistol and holding it at a low, ready position. Among other things he noticed the freshly dug grave, but was not in the frame of mind to ask about it. Looking to the people exiting the bus, he noted a number of pairs - Amelia and Riley, Jack and Tati, Bass and Padre, Alexander and Manny; others pairing up and watching each other's backs. He felt like the odd man out again.

Just for the hell of it, Ash gave another visual sweep of the area. This time, he included a peek under the bus. Extremely long shot, but no one else seemed to want to check there that he saw, and it was part of the Hordebuster protocol before the vehicle died on the road.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: The Bus -> Graveyard Skills: N/A

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Sparrow said that she could handle it. Thalia was trying to get used to the fact that everyone under the sky seemed to call her Sparrow. Nah, Thana was still "Navy" to her. But back to Thalia being able to handle it, why the hell did Bass have to say that? Did he think that a woman of her height and physicality might have problems hoisting a metal-rimmed Viking roundshield? Or was it the gun? A frigging 9mm, for Christ's sake. She'd been using them off and on since she was a child. Of course Thana would say that Thalia could handle it. It was part of her standard gear coming into this place, both the shield and a 9mm. She gave the man a little smirk, seeming to relate an unspoken yet sarcastic confirmation that yes, she in fact could handle it. If he was talking to her. If he wasn't, then Thalia just gave a random, noncommittal, sardonic expression. Of all the ones she gave normally let fly in a 24 hour period, this wasn't anything new.

While she wasn't the last one off of the bus, she was toward the rear. For all of her good qualities, Thalia just didn't consider herself the "Hero" type. Her deal was quieter, more long-term, and oft involved a lot of stabbing. Let the heroes plunge headlong into the open with a minimal plan. Everyone likes a hero. Heroes inspire. Thana was pretty damned heroic. Apparently, so was her boyfriend. She liked to think that the ballerina chick was, too, but Thalia might have been mixing up heroic with hardcore there. Alexander pressing on when he had excellent reasons to give up might fit in this category, if not the actions of a hero in the classic sense. Volunteering for the Eden mission when he had no stake in its outcome would fit, though. She didn't know the others really well enough, and hadn't heard a damn thing about the two Sinead O'Conner lookalikes one way or the other. Thalia could have mentally listed off everyone present, and it would still be hit-or-miss. Even her brother. Overall, it didn't matter. When it was her turn to step off the bus, she did. And rather wished that she hadn't.

Thalia was uncomfortable in air conditioning. Unfortunately, it did have the effect of partly acclimating her to its temperature, at least for a little while. In nature, when the climate changes that much that quickly, something was afoot. "...Jaysus Facking Chri..." she began to "Boston out", absolutely convinced for a second that someone just smacked her across the face and chest with a huge, wet, steaming hot pillow. "And in the shade." Left to her own devices over time, this weather wouldn't bother her so much. Lose a little clothing, use a bandana as a top, keep her hair short, and she'd be just fine to go stabbing fish with a pronged stick in no time. But right now? You'd have thought a cat was laying over her face as she slept. Finally getting greater control over her breathing, the first elements of perspiration already forming. Thalia wasted no time in tucking her Beretta into the waistband of her pants and fixing the shield into her metal hand. She wasn't a huge fan of the extra step, but it beat the alternative. Retrieving the pistol for her left hand, Thalia carefully came to lean on the bus next to Joaquin. She gave the surrounding area a stern, solid look, keeping her vision mostly to distance. Without actually setting eyes on her brother, Thalia asked rather bluntly, "So, who's the dead guy?" Realizing the stupidity of asking that in the middle of a cemetery, she quickly added, "Recently dead guy," nodding her head slightly in the direction of the fresh grave.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: The Bus Skills: N/A

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Ash didn't see the man in the back of the bus, Joaquin, adopt his inherited glare. Maybe it was best that he didn't. Their family had the occasion to be unpredictable and a little stab-happy for reasons that they didn't always disclose. Come to think of it, with two of them that he didn't know well in an enclosed, metal tube moving away from the only point of civilization of which Ash was aware for an indeterminate distance away. This might be one of the more dangerous bus rides Ash had taken. And he'd been dropped off in some pretty unsavory conditions while deployed. "Yes ma'am. No problem. Timing, is all," he responded to Thalia. It seemed to satisfy for the meantime.

But as subjects that were satisfying were concerned, the topic of weapons came up. Funny, he was just thinking that he'd feel better if he could get his hands on a .45 pistol. It wouldn't be entirely inaccurate for him to feel just a little like a kid at Christmas, anxiously awaiting his turn to get at whatever was for him in the sackful of goodies being passed around. He noted that they were not the weapons that they came in with. In most cases, it was an upgrade. So, with a hair or two or genuine optimism, Ash waited. He was almost the last person to receive his item, and took just a bit of surprise that Bass paused in the middle of his surname, only to refer to him by the abbreviated form of his first name before handing him a sidearm. He didn't recall having much of an in-depth conversation with the man. It felt a little off. Ash must have been the topic of some conversation or another; he just hoped it was framed positively. That might have been a safe assumption considering that he was being handed a large bore pistol.

"Thank you," he responded clearly, with a little twinkle in his eye as he examined the sidearm at his disposal. Smith & Wesson 4506, .45 ACP, Double Action start and Single Action continuing, semi-automatic fire. He recognized this weapon as one that was on the table to replace the general issue sidearm of the United States Army. It didn't quite make it, due to NATO ally compatible factors, but nonetheless it was a weapon designed purely for combat application and used his preferred round. Ash gave the pistol a once-over, ejecting the magazine and inspecting the chamber, then reinserting and chambering a round. He applied the safety and tucked the pistol aside, then placed his hands on the back of the seat in front of him so that their hosts didn't misinterpret his actions as hostility and perforate the back of his head. That would be a very unproductive end to his day.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: The Bus Skills: N/A

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"Shit. Yes." It was a simple enough remark from a very direct lady woman who still regarded being armed with the same appeal as a bacon double cheeseburger with accompanying chocolate milkshake. The same sort of predatory expression that she gave Roy earlier that day was reserved for the gun in her hand, giving way to a cold, determined smile. Even this faded away as the gave her lent weapon a cursory look. This was a Beretta. She was a Glock girl, herself. It was the first gun she learned how to use and it remained her favorite for a long time. It also didn't hurt that the Glock 17 was the standard sidearm issued to the security agents of MSS, her former employer. Personal proclivities aside, this wasn't the first time that she held a Beretta. She remembered the last time she was lent one, though. Back when she had two hands, she had opportunity to go full Guns Akimbo with her company Glock in one hand and the Beretta M9 of a guy she had met that day. She got to see him die that day as well. "...James..." The guy looked like a jackass, but he started her on the path that led her here. Then he fell into a collapsing chasm and died. Hindsight was a bitch, sometimes.

She broke her reverie with the Beretta and accompanying memories, noting the signal to wait from Bass. Her gaze followed him to the back of the bus, an eyebrow arching with regard to what was forthcoming. When Thalia saw what he was pulling out for her, it keyed off a series of emotions. Naturally, Thalia went to anger first. It was a good survival default. To the tune of, "How dare those bastards hide that from me, that's my fucking property," though it was an unspoken impulse. It quickly gave way to, "They have it, they haven't just cycled it into the hands of some who doesn't appreciate lifelong craftsmanship," again unsaid, and filtering into the memories of both the Zed she took it from and the woman who made it; its first wielder. Both were friends. One was closer to her than the other.

Thalia accepted the shield with a touch of reverence. It felt like it might be a little lighter than the last time she held it, which was probably due to her more regular diet recently and the exercise she was putting herself through. It looked the same as ever. Even better. The various imperfections that the shield bore was testament to the battles of its owners over the years. She traced her finger along the pattern engraved along the front, giving a nigh sinister grin. Reluctantly, she slid the item down in front of the seat and turned her attention back to the gun.

It was a little tricky of a maneuver to inspect and ready a sidearm with only one functional hand, but practice on the road with her much smaller, scavenged Ruger 9mm had taught Thalia a method. It was a little slower than the standard two handed method, granted, but got the job done. Of course, it was easier if she were standing or kneeling. Beggars and choosers, she figured. Thalia placed her foot up on the seat next to her, hunching down to better accommodate. She checked the safety and placed the weapon behind her knee, so that the slide could be actuated with by tensing the muscles in her leg and pushing against the handle with her functional hand, opening the slide for observation. She depressed the magazine eject and let it fall to the set below, then let the Beretta remain behind her knee while she checked the magazine for ammo, replaced it, and actuated the slide again with the same practiced move she used to inspect the chamber; this time a full back and forth to put the first round in the chamber in a single controlled motion. "Hnn..." she half-crooned, half-growled with a sense of personal satisfaction. This was a good, tried-and-true pistol. Thalia almost hoped she would get the opportunity to use it.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: The Bus Skills: N/A

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Fingers still drumming quietly on knee, Ash maintained his vigil within the confines of his seat upon the bus. It wasn't the bus precisely that invoked his watchfulness, as a moving vehicle was one of the safer places that one might be nowadays, more than it was the newness of the situation coupled with the fact that he was in a confined space with both people he cared about and others who had guns. Logic told him that these people were his people now, even if he did not know them, precisely. But logic did nothing to ease his sense of conscious awareness right then.

Everything seemed to be progressing on a timetable based on unfamiliar protocol. Back in Newnan, if there were objections or misgivings about someone, they simply weren't allowed entry. The speed by which someone gained the trust of the community after that was comparatively shorter, if they made it inside. Lord knew that he had some less than optimistic thoughts about some of the jokers they let in, though in the end, most of them were decent enough folks. Astrid and Bridgette came to mind, as did Sophia, though she needed medical assistance at the time. Richard... was a mistake, in hindsight. He remembered when a crop of newer people came in, some of whom he put in positions of authority in an effort to ease the overall transition. Or when the Franklin community assimilated into their group. Of course, things were different. His community needed people with certain skill sets, and backups for the inevitable, random-seeming deaths that occurred. Mexico Beach seemed to have their stuff locked down pretty good. Well enough that they could afford to screen people more intently. Hence, the probationary period after quarantine and the fact that they weren't allowed weapons of any kind.

But even that train of thought came to a close as the man toward the front of the bus began to speak. They were being issued weapons? If even "issued" was the proper term. Ash might lose his shit entirely (in a good way) if they had a Detonics .45 system - the last pistol type he was issued by the Army - not to mention the latest in proven handgun technology. It was his primary sidearm for years, until the last push from their ruined home in Georgia. But, beggars and choosers, he supposed. Ash guessed that anything they were given was probably going to be from stock, or something they personally handed over prior to entry. But his opinion, like his guesses, meant absolutely nothing right then. He'd see right along with the rest of them.

The first series of buildings seemed to flow past the bus's windows, yet they were not quite out of the settlement's walls just yet. Perhaps they wouldn't be armed until the bus came to its destination. Fine by him either way. Still, he used the occasion the others' attention being focused on the bag in the front to give another look around at the people inside of the bus; the armed guards, his friends, and those he had just met a week ago. This was a motley assortment of people, if viewed by the standards of six years ago. As his eyes went from person to person, they came to rest on the younger woman with the metal hand, who was staring right back at him. She had been looking at him before, as well as Tati and Jack. She wanted answers. Ash could at least provide her one, while he had time.

"Alicia," he began, accenting her name as pronounced in Spanish, "Tu Prima."₁ Not like there were a whole lot of Alicias left in the world, and zero others that they knew in common, in all likelihood. Ash's grasp of Spanish wasn't bad, but he was not a native speaker and so kept his words simple, pitched to hear over the sounds of the bus but not designed to attract a lot of attention. Even so, he had to wonder how many of these people spoke Spanish. At least three of them on that bus that he knew about, including himself. "Fue mordida por una Horda de los Muertos, mientras ayudaba a un hombre."₂ The one armed lady had asked, back in Quarantine, about the her friends and family. This would hopefully show that he wasn't intentionally trying to avoid her. "Horda llegó a Newnan más tarde. Vi a Alicia y le di paz."₃ His words were simpler, almost childlike in their delivery. It lacked nuance but communicated directly what he wanted to say. "I want to talk to you about the others when we can."

Ash was surprised to note that the woman's expression was one of realization, not sorrow. It baffled him.

Translations

1 = Your first cousin.
2 = She was bitten by a horde of the dead, while helping a man.
3 = Horde came to Newnan later. I saw Alicia and I gave her peace.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: The Bus Skills: N/A

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A general mixture of feelings started to settle in Thalia. To say that she was in anything resembling inner peace was far from the truth; the fact was that she probably wouldn't know what to do with herself if she ever actually felt true peace and/or was content with the world around her. It never even crossed her mind that such a thing might exist in her lifetime. So these feelings that settled were more of a coalescence of things she was willing to put up with for the time being. Demons she had made truce with. It helped that she had family nearby, moreso because he was armed. But when it came down to it, things were not really as bad as they might have been. Though she still had not gotten readjusted to the concept of air conditioning, and instinctively held herself, hunching over a little. Thalia's time in the sticks had changed her.

The lack of Thana puzzled her still. Ultimately it was her call, and good or bad there was nothing to say about it, nor was she going to pass judgement on the woman. Beatrice was also not present, which caused her outward expression to grow harder. As with Thana, leaving Mexico Beach was this woman's call, but under the circumstances that she left, Thalia sure as hell was going to judge. Hopefully the woman would find whatever she was looking for, and if they ever met up again, she owed Bea a gut punch. Luckily, these thoughts were interrupted by Manny, extending her a cursory greeting. Snapped from her more judgemental, annoyance-inspired thought process, Thalia looked over to the older dentist. It was always a mixed bag with this guy. Technically she owed him her life, though he had to remove her hand and a good chunk of her arm in the process. Wasn't his fault, either. He made the best of a bad situation and kept her breathing in the process. Thalia returned his greeting with an acknowledging, "Yeah. Hey, Manny." Then it occurred to her that the man hadn't lost anyone close to him in the selection of bodies buried nearby. Those interred had died on the Eden assault or in Newnan, before. She regarded Manny for a few seconds before ultimately letting it go. If he wanted to pay his respects, she wasn't going to stop him. Maybe he just wanted to stand with his teammates, such as they were.

Moving forward, the idea of being given weapons appealed to Thalia as surely as a bacon double cheeseburger and chocolate milkshake might have. (Mental note: Inquire into the possibility of bacon double cheeseburger in CMB.) Curious as to the armed proclivities of the rest of the people on board, Thalia turned around and looked at the people around her. Most she couldn't figure out at a glance, though there were suspicions on some. Thana's boyfriend, the Army Captain? She half expected a Holy Avenger or a bigassed, star-spangled shield that came back to him after he threw it. Her mind moving toward the mildly bizarre, perhaps he was worthy of picking up a hammer that she'd never be capable of lifting in her life.

It was about then that she realize she was staring at the man. What followed, coming from his mouth was a little bit of a shock. Not the Spanish, even though it sounded a little forced, but the things he was saying. Thalia had heard a version of this story last year, from a man she had met less than a half hour before his death. His name was James, if memory served. Not news, in and of itself. Alicia died with her gun in hand, taken out by a horde. But the exact words that James used were, "Her man wound up putting her down after she turned, luck had it, and it damn near broke him." And that sparked a sense of realization in her, like pieces of a puzzle coming together. Ash had just claimed that he gave her peace. If he was the guy who "put her down", then they were involved romantically. Army Captain had claimed that they were close. This detail just gave that claim a lot more depth. And he traveled for over a year to reunite with Thana. She only responded to him with a simple, "Thanks. I gaht a lot of questions." She didn't press conversation now. Thalia could wait for this with much enhanced patience, and if Joaquin overheard the exchange, he probably had a few questions of his own.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: The Bus Skills: N/A

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It didn't seem like there was much to do now but wait. Wait for people to board, wait for the bus to move, wait for them all to get to their destination. It was something that the Army taught him how to do like a champ; waiting. The longest periods of soul denting boredom interspersed with moments of tremendous, life threatening peril, over and over, until you were given a paper that said you had to go somewhere else. This was a little different from standard military movements, though. Now they were the civilian cargo, and everywhere was considered a field of fire.

The truth was that Ash didn't like going out unarmed, nor without his own group of people backing him up. The truth also was that as soon as he got out of the latter mindset, the better. At least, if he wanted to assimilate into this community more effectively. It was going to be a hard habit to break. Looking around the bus, he took to note the faces of those around him. Tatiana and Jack both seemed to have the same gut feeling that he did about staying alert. He had no doubt that if all things were equal and they had to scrap their way out of a situation, they'd be the first to have his back. Riley and Amelia looked like they usually did; so long as they had each other they were good. He didn't know the others well enough to be able to pick anything out about them. Ash knew what he'd observed in quarantine, and then it looked like most of them were trying to be on their best behavior. Most of them. It was ultimately of no matter to him. They had all signed on for this, knowing that their lives would have some huge changes and that one of them would be a lack of trust at first. With due time and diligence, this would pass.

But so long as he was looking at faces, one stood out. It was the other Gonzalez in the back of the bus. Ash might not know Joaquin from Adam, but the expression he wore was seared into his brain from his history with the family. He risked a look forward, noting the younger lady with the prosthesis. She didn't bear that look now, but her expression was hardening into something. She and her brother weren't the allies that Alicia and Caesar were, though. Ash took another glance back to Jack and Tati. He let out a light sigh and began drumming his fingers on a knee. Tatiana got a lot harder since Newnan. Ash had a feeling that whatever went down, be it something from an outside force or internal conflict, she was the one who would have his back.

But none of these were healthy outlooks on their situation at present. They were going to visit a gravesite. The assertion was backed up by Thana, and if Ash couldn't trust her then there was something wrong with him, not everyone else. Instead he forced his mind to thoughts of the deceased. James for certain, but Ryan... Ash didn't like the man. But there was a glimmer of tarnished nobility that he saw in the guy, toward the end there. Back to James, the man who he called his best friend for a good while there. He deserved better than he got back from life. As the bus pulled away and toward the eastern exit of the community, Ash's thoughts filled with colorful and, in hindsight, amusing moments about the man, even as his eyes maintained a vigil on the area around them. James was never boring. Maybe Ash would say a few words, when they got there.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: The Bus Skills: N/A

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Thalia was getting the impression that a lot of these people had their own little clique, and she wasn't cool enough to sit at their table at lunchtime. Or whatever the equivalent was here. She got a bare level of acceptance as Epic Ballerina Mom noted her presence. She arched a brow back, giving the slightest nod to her before settling back into her seat more fully - though not exactly with eyes forward and hands at her sides. Check that, hand at her sides - it was more accurate to say that she took a more sideways position so that she could keep an eye on things and spring up if necessary. As it came to their surroundings, Thalia seemed more interested in who was inside of the bus, rather than that was going on outside of it. Being trapped in a rolling metal box with people she barely knew, and who outnumbered those she knew that she could trust, was not her cup of mescal.

This feeling lasted for a relatively short amount of time, however. It was a startlingly fast change of attitude, and this was mostly because of her formerly estranged sibling, Joaquin. While others might have been put off by his shift from being bubbly and talkative to something more akin to ...her, Thalia took it as a sign of advanced readiness on his part. Slowly, her eyes went to him at the back of the bus, giving a once-over to assess the man with whom she shared a father. The look of impending violence on his part actually made Thalia feel more at ease. She turned her attention to Alexander and Manny, the other two remaining from her circle of survivors, and gave them a reassuring look. If her brother's expression promised blood, and he wasn't moving against anyone immediately, then he had "clocked in", so to speak. The two of them were never especially close; Thalia and Joaquin. Nevertheless, that outward signal was all the indicator she needed right then to focus on other things. Like why she was there in the first place.

Somewhere outside of those walls lay the body of Lola Holler, a woman who probably saved her ass and kept her from becoming too dark, when she needed it most. Her life seemed to constantly teeter on the edge of a knife that way, like she was constantly trying not to feed her more destructive and apathetic impulses. Most of the time, Thalia was better than that. Every so often people had to remind her. The women of Fairburn, Lola, Thana, Mugsy. With out these people in her life at the right time, she might very well have become like the monster from her nightmare, months ago. Or just dead. The irony being that she would gladly rip out a throat with her teeth, would disembowel someone with no compunction whatsoever, would bring a life to a swift and messy end with either blade or bullet without hesitation, if it meant that these people were safe. Or to avenge them, as she proved decisively in Eden. So yes, Thalia was going to ease up (a little) and go to say a final farewell to Lola. As for Gavin... the thought of viewing their graves evoked a flurry of memories from that day. They were not all positive.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Assembly (P) Skills: N/A

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While the head count was being taken by the more official, gun carrying members of Camp Mexico Beach, Ash was giving the assembled group a lookover as well. Not with logistics or any real plan in mind; he was merely curious to see who all was going to be coming along on this field trip. Just a couple more arriving. Thana was not among their number, he noted. She had time to make her way over to the graves a long while ago, as she was the only one in CMB who knew where to find the remains that were recovered. It felt odd, knowing that the earthly vessels of people that looked to him for guidance were moved to be closer to them all, and now sat buried in Florida, of all places. Ash gave his own understanding nod back to the Padre, acknowledging the man's response to him with quiet respect.

The tiny snatches of conversation that swirled around Ash caught just enough of his attention for him to understand that none of it gave necessary information and none of it was aimed in his direction. He was, in a sense, alone in a small crowd. It was an interesting feeling after being the one calling shots amid a closely packed group of survivors, and before that basically remaining on duty 24/7 for the good of a community. What does a commander do once the mission was over? Maybe it wouldn't matter at the end of the day, but for the meantime, it was to honor those who died for the mission. Ash put the thoughts, and the tiny conversations around him, it out of his consideration for the time being. The exchange in Spanish caught his attention, as the one-handed lady sounded very short and to the point whilst her brother answered a two word question with a sonnet. They were very different. It was amazing to Ash they they were related at all, let alone connected paternally.

It wasn't until Atticus began speaking in raised, encompassing tones that Ash's keen eyes snapped back in his direction, his demeanor returning to the alert with a notable straightening of posture. It was a brief rundown of expected events for the near future. Get on the bus. Half hour once they got where they were going. More to follow. He almost felt like throwing a salute and quick timing it to board. Instead, he took a cue from Tatiana and Jack, merely entering the bus and taking a spot nearby and across from them.

Though they were guarded by people that he assumed he could trust, Ash was, like his friends in the seat nearby, feeling rather vigilant. This was a run outside of the walls, and he was bereft of anything with which he could effectively defend himself; firearm, knife, long blade or bow. It appeared that this was an exercise of trust for all of them, those with the guns and those without, equally. Ever the team player, Ash accepted this as the way things were now and settled in as best he was able. He shot Jack and Tati a quick look, followed by a brief but warm smile, and returned to observing his surroundings.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Assembly (P) Skills: N/A

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It was a rare smile that caught Thalia off guard, acquired from Alexander's informing her of his intention to kick her ass if she called him "Gramps" again. Admittedly, it was a throwback to their earlier days, what seemed like a long time ago now. Perhaps thinking about Lola and Gavin, though she knew the former a hell of a lot better than she knew the latter, was shifting her mindset back a year and a half. She hadn't called Alexander that since the first day, just before the attack on Eden. A lot was coming back to her memory, fresher now than it had been for some time.

Eden.

For all of her cold, judgemental stares and the expectations of someone with her bloodline, she hadn't really distinguished herself aside from surviving the first few waves of the Apocalypse. Hard decisions made all around, and she nearly died more than once because of stupid mistakes and a lack of practical experience, but Eden clarified something in her. And scared her a little. Not what those cultists had done, though it truly was the stuff of nightmares, but that she took to the act of killing - executing - so many people with ease and grace. She found out more about herself that day than any day prior, and what scared her was the fact that she felt cool, righteous fury contained within her as her body performed the acts of the day, blade and bullet moving in sync with her active, calculating mind, opportunistic in her methods so long as the people in front of her died quickly and in numbers vastly surpassing her kill count from Thalia's first in self defense to the day in question. Zero moral compunction in doing so. Coldly brutal in the application of her violence, and it felt good. Maybe there was something wrong with her. Or maybe she was the type that would survive this new world, so long as she didn't turn into a monster. It was in there someplace.

A brief chill passed through her, another emerging memory of a dream she had the night after her arm was removed. That one stuck with her. There was most assuredly something dark and consuming inside of her. The daughter of a priest, no less. Thalia decided that she definitely needed to see these graves. She needed to know why she did what she did and keep herself grounded. She needed Lola's memory to stay with her, and her oddly accented words of optimism and fellowship to echo in her brain when it was needed. And she needed to keep her friends and family close now. Close for her, anyway.

Thalia gave a quick, benign laugh to Alexander. Sure, he was probably joking. But depending on how the dice fell, he might just be able to, having more experience with a missing extremity than she. "Yah, heard ya there, Mugsy. A one-legged guy kicking my ass isn't something I want getting around." She flashed a smile to him and nudged the guy with her elbow. No, Thalia wasn't a monster yet. She has friends that didn't mind taking tiny jabs at her. That level of comfort wasn't possible with a complete sociopath.

Then there was the exchange with her brother. Dear Merciful God, that man could throw a can of alphabet soup at a simple yes/no question. She gave him a slow nod, the look of mild, exasperated confusion mixed with acceptance playing across her features. With a shrug, she continued on to listen to the instructions of the Padre, and when it was her turn to board the bus, she did so the measured, careful steps of a predator walking into unfamiliar territory, her eyes taking in as much detail as possible given the situation. Briefly, Thalia gave Daytona a tiny nod as she passed by, and moved to take a seat near the middle. Glancing back to Ash, Tatiana, and Jack, she had the look of a woman who wanted to say something, but refrained. While she had a LOT of questions that had yet to be answered by anyone, despite insistence that they would get around to it, they were on their way to a memorial. The blunt and crass way that Thalia leapt into most social occasions, especially when she wanted something, would be painfully counterproductive now. But her impatience was brimming.