Both girls were still screaming behind me as I slammed on the brakes. The motorcycle fishtailed, skidded across the road, and came to a stop just short of the prison gate.
I scanned the crowd.
Nothing but unfamiliar faces.
There was no way to tell who was hostile and who was merely desperate. Starting a gunfight without knowing would be a good way to get myself killed, so I stayed where I was.
The scarred woman was obviously the one in charge. Her people had their rifles trained on me, but nobody pulled the trigger.
I didn't reach for my weapons either.
A standoff within a standoff.
She simply stared at me.
Like she'd seen a ghost.
An entire minute passed before she finally spoke.
"Why are you bald?"
Of course.
That question.
People had been asking me some version of it for years, and somehow it never became any less annoying.
"How old are you, lady?"
I shot back, mostly to throw her off.
"Thirty-six. Your turn."
"What the hell are you two doing?" Sunny hissed from behind me. "I thought they were the enemy. What is happening right now?"
Honestly...
Same question.
"I can't grow hair. That's why I'm bald. Happy?"
I tapped my scalp.
Behind Sunny, I caught Diana giggling.
It was quiet, but genuine.
The panic from moments earlier had completely vanished.
The scarred woman nodded slowly, as though a piece of a puzzle had finally fallen into place.
"Just your head? Or everywhere?"
That did it.
Somewhere behind the prison wall, T-Dog's voice rang out.
"What the hell is happening?"
"Told you she was crazy," Carol said smugly, nudging Maggie.
Maggie didn't answer.
She looked like she agreed but didn't want to admit it.
One minute they had all been staring down a firing squad.
The next, everyone was discussing my hairline as though it were the most important thing in the world.
Confusion practically radiated through the prison yard.
Honestly...
I wasn't sure what to make of it either.
The woman studied me for another moment before asking, almost gently,
"What's your name?"
Finally.
A normal question.
"Max Walker."
I paused.
"Your turn. Why are you here, and what exactly is wrong with you?"
I delivered it as dryly as possible, expecting to offend her.
Instead...
She lit up.
She threw back her head and burst into delighted laughter before spinning in a circle like she'd just won the lottery.
"I found him! I'm getting married! I actually found him!"
She practically danced around the hood of a nearby car.
I looked at her.
Then at everyone else.
Every single person wore the exact same bewildered expression.
Nobody had the faintest idea what the hell was happening.
"He's taken, you old bitch! You can't have him! He's already mine, and I'll kill you before you even think about marrying him!"
Clementine's voice echoed across the prison yard.
She sprinted toward the gate with Molly close behind, desperately trying—and completely failing—to calm her down.
The scarred woman blinked, glancing between Clementine and me as if trying to solve an impossible puzzle.
"My apologies. I seem to have lost my composure."
She cleared her throat, straightened her jacket, and instantly returned to a calm, composed demeanor.
"Now... where were we?"
I was beginning to think she'd completely lost her mind.
"Young lady, could you stop pointing that rifle at me?" she asked Clementine with the patience of a schoolteacher. "I believe there's been a misunderstanding. I wasn't trying to steal your man."
Clementine froze.
Several long seconds passed before she reluctantly lowered the rifle.
I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
"What was all that about?" I asked. "Finding me, getting married... start explaining."
She might have been the strangest person I'd ever met.
"First, allow me to introduce myself."
She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear before signaling her people to lower their weapons.
Without hesitation, every rifle dropped.
She squared her shoulders as though preparing for a formal interview.
"My name is Amy."
She pointed directly at me.
"And you... are my future stepson."
"WHAT?!"
Clementine and I shouted in perfect unison.
The entire prison yard fell silent.
Daryl muttered, "She's crazier than a bag of cats."
"I agree," T-Dog said, nodding as he looked at the woman standing in front of them.
Amy patiently waited for the shock to pass.
"I intend to marry your father," she explained. "He promised that if I found you, he'd give me anything I wanted."
She smiled.
It should have looked warm.
Instead, the scar running across the corner of her mouth transformed it into something both beautiful and unsettling.
"Let's discuss this calmly," she said.
Talking sounded infinitely better than shooting.
So I nodded.
---
Clementine and I spent nearly half an hour sitting with Amy near the gate.
The story came together piece by piece.
My father had conquered Alexandria, eliminated most of its ruling council, absorbed the survivors into his own faction, and then dispatched search teams to find me.
Amy had been one of the people he'd spared.
Judging by the way she spoke about him...
Their relationship clearly went beyond that.
Weird didn't even begin to describe it.
"Is there any way to contact my father?"
I heard the excitement in my own voice before I could hide it.
After everything that had happened, I might finally get to see my father and my uncle again.
"Of course."
Amy smiled as she pulled out a radio.
"We can contact him right now."
A moment later, her expression shifted into a frown.
"The signal's still jammed. It has been for weeks."
Clementine hadn't taken her eyes off Amy since we'd sat down.
Even so, some of her hostility had begun to fade.
It was difficult to stay openly suspicious of someone who might actually become family.
"That's easy enough to fix," Amy said casually.
She raised her voice.
"Luna! Shut down the jammer. I need to contact headquarters."
A low growl answered from somewhere behind the vehicles, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone dismantling equipment.
I stared at Amy.
"Wait."
"You're that motherfucker jamming the radio?"
I couldn't keep the frustration out of my voice.
"Do you have any idea how much trouble that's caused us?"
Amy dismissed the complaint with a lazy wave.
"Nothing personal. It's simply how we operate."
A few moments later, Luna called out,
"Signal's restored, ma'am."
Amy nodded and immediately keyed the radio, rattling off coordinates and identification codes.
Then...
I heard engines.
Not one.
Several.
Closing fast.
I turned toward the road.
A convoy was racing toward the prison.
One pickup carried a massive propane tank strapped into its bed.
At the wheel of the lead vehicle sat someone I recognized instantly.
Rick Grimes.
Several familiar faces followed close behind.
Amy's people reacted immediately, raising their rifles.
"Incoming! Unknown hostiles!"
"Don't shoot!" I shouted. "They're with us!"
For a split second...
It worked.
A few rifles started to lower.
Then the first gunshot rang out from Rick's convoy.
...and all hell broke loose.