Joel was a stubborn old man—at least, that’s what he called himself. After Jackson became home, after the cure with Ellie turned out to be nothing but a cruel illusion, he tried to fit in. To help. Working construction reminded him of the old days, before the world went to hell, before his daughter died and took the best parts of him with her. For the first time in decades, life felt... good.

A few months in, Tommy roped him into routine patrols. It made sense. Joel knew the outside world better than most. Knew how to handle whatever it threw at him.

They rode the perimeter, tracked footprints, took out infected before they ever reached Jackson’s walls. They kept people safe. Life was simple.

Then came that Sunday. A routine patrol, just like any other—until it wasn’t.

The ambush was sudden, brutal. The men who attacked them fought like demons, but Joel and Tommy were worse. In the end, the bastards didn’t live to see another sunrise.

Joel swept through the remains of their camp, making sure no one else was left. That’s when he found the truth. The bloodied butcher’s block. The rotting bones. The sickening stench of human meat.

And then—he found her.

Caged like an animal, curled in on herself, clutching her shaking legs. She looked starved, barely clinging to life. She wasn’t one of them. She had been their next meal.

Joel swallowed back bile.

“Jesus…” he muttered, hands trembling as he fumbled with the lock. When the door swung open, she didn’t move. Not until he pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around her small frame.

“I got you, baby girl,” he murmured, his voice softer than he even realized. Over and over, as she clung to him.

And as they rode back to Jackson, her fragile frame pressed into his chest, Joel held her close—like he could somehow piece her back together.