The C.D.C. is gone and along with it, a piece of the hope that they all clung to. Now, all they have left is each other. The group must stick together even as new challenges threaten to tear them apart. But sometimes surviving isn't worth it when th...
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Daryl and MJ are in the barn with Randall, they're trying to get information out of him about his group. So far, it's not going over very well. His eye is now swollen shut, and he's got blood on his face. He's crying.
Daryl punches him again, and Randall grunts when he hits the ground. He hits him two more times, and Randall spits blood out of his mouth.
"I told you—"
"You told me shit!" Daryl grabs him and makes him sit upright.
"I barely knew those guys. I met 'em on the road, just like those two men and the woman." He insists. "Ask them!"
"I did." MJ says. "They were only with your group for a couple of hours — the smaller group that was scouting in town. They never saw the whole group. Don't try to pull shit with me."
"How many in your group?" Daryl questions.
The blonde kneels down in front of Randall and grabs his face, under his chin. "He asks, you answer." She tells him. "How many?"
He just looks at her, so she pushes his head to the side and stands up straight. Randall looks up at them again and he sees Daryl pull a knife out of a sheath on his belt.
"Uh, no, no, no, no, no, no. Come on, man."
Daryl raises the knife and then slams it into the ground next to his leg. "How many?!"
"Uh, thirty. Thirty. Thirty guys." He tells him.
"Where?" MJ asks.
"Uh..."
Daryl presses the blade against the healing wound in his leg, and he screams out in fear. "I don't know. I swear. We were never anyplace more than a night." He tells him, his eyes on the knife that Daryl still has against his leg.
"Scouting?" Daryl asks. "Planning on staying local?"
"I-I don't know. They— They left me behind."
"Did you ever pick off a scab?" He's trying to scare him, make him give them more information.
"Come on, man!" He's panicking. "I'm— I'm trying to cooperate."
"Start real slow at first. Sooner or later, you just gotta rip it off."
MJ's not looking at them anymore. She's trying to push back the memories of when she was in hell. The torture and the pain, begging them to stop while they laughed at her. It was the only time she felt completely and utterly weak. She'd been scared and felt hopeless before, but this was different.
