Rick's convoy kept firing. My shout was swallowed by the gunfire almost instantly, and Amy's people returned fire without hesitation—leaving Clementine and me caught in the middle.
Before either side could turn the road into a graveyard, I stepped forward, drew the Desert Eagle, and put three rounds into three tires in as many seconds.
The lead vehicles lost traction instantly. Trucks fishtailed across the road—one rolled onto its side, another slammed into an abandoned bus hard enough to stop the firefight cold.
Silence.
I holstered the pistol and checked the wreckage.
Everyone was alive.
Cuts, bruises, nothing worse.
And most of the people climbing out weren't strangers at all.
Rick Grimes, plus three faces I didn't know. Behind him were people I did: Abraham, Rosita, Eugene, Noah. In the other truck: Tyreese, Sasha, Allen, Ben, and Donna.
None of them should've been traveling with Rick this early. Then again, the timeline had bent so far out of shape by now that almost nothing surprised me anymore.
I'd stopped trying to guess what the future was even supposed to look like.
"No! Dad!"
Carl was already sprinting toward the wreck, his face streaked with tears, terrified of what he'd find. Beth chased after him, with Daryl and Carol close behind.
I turned to Clementine, who was brushing herself off.
"You okay?"
She looked up at the sound of my voice.
Standing this close, I towered over her by more than a foot. From this angle, she looked so small... so vulnerable.
In truth, she was.
She was carrying our twins.
Somehow, despite everything, she still carried herself with a quiet strength that made her seem far tougher than she had any right to be.
"I'm fine. What about you?"
She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
For a second...
I completely forgot how words worked.
"Max? Something wrong?"
I leaned down and kissed her instead of answering.
She froze for exactly one heartbeat before melting into it, her fingers curling into my shirt.
"Hello."
Amy's dry voice cut the moment cleanly in half.
"There's still a conflict happening here."
Clementine's eyes flew open.
She shoved me back, her face bright red, while I rubbed the back of my neck like that would somehow help.
"...Right."
Dozens of people who'd been seconds away from shooting each other were now just staring at us in complete silence.
Rick closed the distance quickly, one hand resting on the pistol at his hip.
"Who the hell are you people, and why are you here?"
His eyes landed on me—the idiot who'd nearly gotten his whole convoy killed.
Judging by the faces behind him, I wasn't winning any popularity contests today.
"Good shooting. Very impressive," Abraham said from a few steps behind Rick. "But point that iron at me again, and I'll forget how old you are."
Rick shot him a look.
"Can you let me handle this?"
Abraham didn't get an answer.
Rick had already turned back to Amy.
"What the hell are you doing outside my prison?"
I watched him carefully.
Hostile.
Alert.
Nothing like the Rick I remembered.
It showed in the way his hand hovered near his gun and the way his eyes never stopped moving across the crowd.
PTSD.
Or something close to it.
After Lori...
After everything he'd lost...
I couldn't blame him.
Running a community was hard enough.
Running one in this world, where a single mistake got people killed, was enough to break anyone.
"Calm yourself before I make you."
Amy answered her own threat by leveling the shotgun at him.
Rick's grip tightened around his pistol.
One wrong move from either of them...
And this whole thing started over.
"Rick."
Carol stepped between them.
"Don't make this worse. Come here. I'll explain."
She pulled him aside and spoke quietly.
I watched his expression cycle through anger, confusion, and something close to disbelief.
More than once, his eyes drifted toward Clementine and me.
Finally, he walked back.
"Did John Walker send you here to take this prison?"
Amy frowned, wiping down her shotgun as though the question bored her.
"No. What are you talking about? And how do you know my beloved?"
Every time she called my father my beloved, something inside me physically recoiled.
Rick's eyes narrowed.
"He used to run with my group. We split up eventually. He left to find his son."
His gaze shifted to me.
"Which, apparently, he found."
All the color drained from Amy's face.
Her shotgun nearly slipped from her hands.
"What?"
Rick took a slow step closer.
"So you didn't know."
It wasn't a question.
"He didn't send you."
Amy went quiet, thinking.
Then her eyes widened.
"I could kill all of you and hide my mistake..."
A pause.
Her gaze slid toward me.
"...Fuck."
She sighed and shook her head.
"No. I'd definitely face the consequences for that one."
Rick turned to me.
"And you."
His voice had gone flat.
Measured.
"Everything Carol told me—the prison, your community, the Governor. Was it true?"
I held his gaze.
"Yeah."
"So what if it was?"
His hand hovered near the pistol for a long moment.
Then...
It relaxed.
"We'll talk later."
He started toward the prison, then stopped halfway and pointed back at Amy without turning around.
"She's not coming inside."
I couldn't argue with that.
I didn't trust her that far either.
Amy just shrugged and tossed me her radio.
I caught it.
"Here. Talk to your father."
My throat tightened.
My hands were shaking by the time I pressed the button.
Clementine reached over and squeezed my hand.
Static.
Then a voice.
Tired.
Irritated.
Worn down to almost nothing.
"Amy, what is it this time? And don't waste my time unless you've actually found something. I'm done with the useless reports."
A pause.
"Just... give me something I can smile about for once."
Dad.
I'd imagined this moment a thousand times.
Every word I'd say.
Every question I'd ask.
Now that it was real...
None of it came.
"Amy?"
Silence.
"Amy, are you there?"
He was about to hang up.
Clementine squeezed my shoulder.
"Dad..."
Nothing.
Just static...
...and a silence that lasted three seconds but felt like three years.
Then, barely above a whisper—
"Max...?"
His voice shook.
"Is that you, my son?"
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
"Please, God."
His breath caught.
"Please don't let this be another hallucination."
That landed harder than anything else he could've said.
"How are you, Dad?"
My voice barely made it out.
"How's Uncle Matthew?"
Even Clementine, standing right beside me, could barely hear me.
He heard every word.
"Max..."
His voice cracked.
"It's really you."
I laughed.
Weakly.
Disbelievingly.
"Yeah."
I smiled.
"It's me."
After that, it all came out in a flood.
"Are you okay? Where are you? Tell me where you are, and I'll come get you right now!"
Frantic.
Terrified.
"Stay exactly where you are. Don't move. I'll be there as fast as I can. I'm not leaving you again."
"Dad."
I smiled, fighting back tears.
"Calm down. I'm safe. Amy's here. She'll give you the location."
I glanced at Clementine.
She smiled back.
"I want to talk to you properly."
Then I grinned.
"And there's someone I want you to meet."
He laughed.
It sounded suspiciously like he was trying not to cry.
"I want to see you too. Your uncle's going to lose his mind."
A beat.
"Put Amy back on. I'm coming myself."
I handed the radio back.
Amy looked equal parts thrilled and terrified.
Before she and my father could say another word, Maggie came sprinting toward me, panic written across her face.
"Max! Glenn needs you. Now."
Every bit of happiness I'd felt thirty seconds earlier vanished.
Glenn.
I'd completely forgotten why we'd come out here in the first place.
I gave one sharp nod and sprinted toward the prison, praying I wasn't already too late.