Clementine wants to scream, because every time they make a noise, a walker attacks. She doesn't want to have to explain. Her hand is a fist around the ice pick. Her fist shakes, and she dives it through the skull of the one that's knocked off balance by him kicking its kneecaps.

There's just always another walker behind the last one.

"I've done this two times before. It's the only way you're going to survive as long as you be quiet and walk."

She's shoving the guts at the two grown men with her tiny fist. Another walker's drawn in by the smells of human flesh. She pulls out her hatchet, cutting the thing at the knees and then shoving it into the skull once, twice. Blood splurts back at her. More walkers move into the area, drawn to the blast which rang out all over the place. Fuck, they're all gonna die.

Can she still hear music? Maybe. So can the walkers. This is just one shitty, flesh-eating dance.