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An Inferno of Info

"Pass me a granola bar, will you?" Carol asked Steven, one of the guys in the back of the car.

As the Alexandrian rummaged through the group's food, Morgan instructed Carol to make a left turn at the fork. She turned the wheel shortly thereafter and accepted her much needed snack.

"In a few miles, we'll need to park. We won't want Ron's men to know we're coming, so I suggest we go on foot for the last mile," Morgan advised, eyes glued to the map.

Carol nodded and threw her empty granola bar package to the floor of the car.

After hiding the parked vehicle in some overgrown shrubbery, the crew began their mile-long journey to the base. Hopefully, they'd find answers and not angry, evil people. However, if it came down to it, Morgan knew that he would do anything and everything in his power to get answers out of some angry henchmen. Carol might not like it, but he'd make it happen. The safety of Alexandria was in danger. The peace of the people had to be preserved at all costs. Carol, on the other hand, knew what might need to be done, and she was fearless. However, if she could find another solution besides murder, she'd do it. After nearly breaking down completely and losing her will to live when she shot Lizzie in the flower field, she knew that there had to be another way. Every day since then, she regretted what she'd done.

There must've been another way. Maybe there was hope for poor Lizzie. Maybe I could've helped her somehow.

None of Carol's wishful thinking would help Lizzie now, but that situation did have something good come out of it. Carol was stronger now, not because she had a higher tolerance of murder, but that she had compassion and a new way of looking at hopeless situations.

"Well, this situation looks pretty hopeless," Morgan commented as he saw a dozen or so guards posted at every corner of the base.

"Hey, at least we know it's not abandoned now," Carol optimistically stated. "We just have to figure out a way in."

The four split up, each scouting out a different quarter of the base from afar. Using trees and bushes, they hid themselves from view as they scoped the place out. Morgan took the north quarter and used an old pair of binoculars that he'd found on a run a few weeks earlier. He crouched behind some tall grass as he put the binoculars to his eyes. Adjusting the clearness, he could make out half a dozen guards in the hot afternoon. If he thought being stuck in the car was bad, crouching in this grass was like being covered in Mother Nature's armpit. Steadily, he pulled a handkerchief from the inside of his camouflage jacket to wipe his brow.

"Stand up slowly," a voice said from behind him.

He'd been caught. Slowly, he stood, reaching for his stick at the pace of an old lady crossing the street. He managed to stealthily hide the tall stick's presence in front of him.

"Put your hands above your head, and turn around," said the guard.

Morgan gripped his weapon tighter.

"I said," repeated the guard, "turn around."

With a burst of fury, Morgan spun around and whacked the guard over the head. He stumbled a bit before Morgan struck him again. This time, the guard was completely knocked out.

"Carol," he radioed, "we've been compromised!"

Silence.

"Carol!" he emphasized.

Still nothing. He whipped out his binoculars and scanned the area until his eye caught something— Carol and the other two being forced along by some guards. They were headed inside the base probably to be questioned and tortured. He cursed, and began to plot a way to rescue them.