Daryl shakes his head. "Just some kid. Had a screwed up eye, talked in his sleep. Broke us outta our cell." He looks away from Beth.

York, his name was York, and he'd saved Daryl's life, probably. He'd run with them, breathless through the fields. He'd had a panic attack at midnight. He'd always been kind, friendly, smiling gently. He'd been separated in the firefight outside the compound.

"Probably dead now."