-Riley-

I knew where Simon was now.

These people had told me their stories. They were a family, a husband and wife - whose named were Joe and Annette - and their 24 year old son, Ben.

They certainly looked like a family, and had the chemistry of a family, but it still surprised me for some reason.

Maybe it's because every family I've seen or known has been ruined. Mine, Carl's and Rick's, Carol's, Michonne's - we all have tragic stories of mothers or fathers or children who we have lost, and never in peaceful circumstances either.

This family, like the group and I, had stumbled into Rochester in search of food and supplies. Instead of finding these necessities for survival, they had found Simon and his group - the exact opposite of what they were looking for. They had been cornered by Simon and his thugs in an alley, and instead of killing them, Simon had decided to lock them inside this derelict vehicle until the walkers found a way in.

They had, however, managed to overhear a conversation between Simon and one of his friends outside of the vehicle after they'd been locked up. Apparently he had mentioned something about returning to a small cabin in the woodland area just outside of the city, over the bridge that Carl and I had been crossing when we had been attacked.

The information wasn't concrete, but it was all we had, and Carl's life was at steak here. Any lead was invaluable at this point, but the situation was not without its complications - quite big complications.

To name one: I was about twenty miles away from where I needed to be. That river had carried me half way across the city.

I sneered at the meer thought of Simon and what he would be doing to Carl, but once I again I reminded myself that hope was not lost, because this group had arrived at Rochester in a vehicle: a large Toyota Fortuna, which they had parked on the outskirts of the city.

Simon hadn't found out about that, and he would regret it.

It had took several hours of tedious walking, fueled by the fear of Carl's safety, but eventually, as the sun began to sink behind the horizon, we had arrived at the location of the vehicle.

"Who's driving?" I asked as I inspected the vehicle, which was in surprisingly good shape after three years of the apocalypse.

"I will," Joe spoke. His voice had a grim determination that almost mirrored my own. He reminded me, in many ways, of Rick. Simon had attacked his family, and now he wanted revenge.

I would make sure he had it.

As I clambered into the vehicle, however, Joe's son, Ben, spoke up.

"We shouldn't do this," he admitted with a sigh, as his dad sent him a look of confusion.

"We shouldn't fight Simon and his men," he elaborated, as his father sighed in frustration, "we're not killers, dad. I know they're bad people, and I know they deserve to die, but just... think this through. They've got guns, they know they area - hell, they pretty much have every advantage that we don't."

Joe sighed, turning to Annette for some sort of back-up, but she stood silently and intently, appearing to support Ben's objection. Joe reluctantly listened to his son's point, but with an expression of gradual understanding and agreement as Ben continued.

"If we do this, chances are that people will die. I might die, mom might die, you might die. It's a risk we can't take. We should just take the car, drive off, and never look back."

He's got a good point.

I might not have a family to care for anymore, but I know for sure that I wouldn't put Carl's life at risk for the sake of some stranger's mission, so... Why would they do the same?

I need to see this from their point of view. I can't just drag them into this, even if I did save them.

Joe sighed, looking between me and his son in moral confliction.

"No offense to Riley," Ben continued, turning to face me, "but he doesn't have anything to loose by doing this. We're not in that situation though; we do have something. Let's just go. Leave while we still have the chance."

Joe struck me as the sort of father who put his family before all else, and I couldn't blame him as he sighed in defeat and gave in to his son's convincing argument. I was fighting a loosing battle trying to convince these people to come along with me, and I knew that just as well as they did.

"Riley," Joe began with an apologetic sigh, but I knew the conversation and excuses that were coming.

"Save it," I dismissed him, "I get it: family comes first, right?"

Joe nodded slightly, surprised and taken aback by my acceptance. Then, we both turned our attention to the car.

I needed that. It was the only way I could reach Carl in the next 24 hours.

Joe must have sensed this need, because when I turned to face him again, he threw me a glistening set of keys.

"Just let us get our supplies from the trunk, then you can keep the car," he explained graciously, turning to his Annette and Ben in preparation for the inevitable objections.

"It's the least we can do," I heard him begin explaining to his family, as I turned my attention to the vehicle. I clambered inside and inspected the array of dials and buttons that stretched out across the dashboard. It was the first time I'd ever sat in the driver's seat of a car, and only now did I began to wonder how my driving skills would fare.

I peered at the fuel gauge. The needle was teetering on the edge of the red zone, indicating that the tank was nearly empty, but I was confident that it would manage twenty miles.

I hoped it would. It was my - and Carl's - last hope.

I returned my attention to the family that stood beside the car, the quarrel having now apparently ended as all three faces now turned to me.

"Look after her," Joe chuckled, motioning to the vehicle.

"Thank you," I replied with sincere gratitude. These three people were a stark contrast from Simon and his men, and they reassured me that there was still good left in this bleak world.

"No need to thank me," he dismissed me, as he and his family turned with their two suitcases of supplies to walk away, "but do one thing for us."

"What is it?"

"Make sure Simon pays."

"You can count on it," I nodded assuredly.

Now, my attention returned to the vehicle in which I sat. I slotted the keys I'd been given into the ignition, and with a firm twist, the Toyota rumbled to life.

I sighed in relief at my stroke of luck.

Finally...

I'm coming Carl.