Daryl's return to Sanctuary had not given him the promotion within Negan's ranks that he had hoped for. While Negan had been pleased with him for returning his wife—and Daryl despised himself for the sense of validation even such a minor praise from a monster gave him—he had reminded Daryl that he would have been awarded more points for bringing back Dwight alive. And once his and Sherry's story about walkers overrunning them had been corroborated by a scouting team, he had barely earned anything at all thanks to the loss of the rest of the crew.
More than anything, he had just wanted to be allowed to carry a weapon. Anything at all would have sufficed; he had no idea how long he would have to wait for his friends to attack, but he wanted to be ready when they did, and without a weapon, he had no idea how he would safely take Negan down.
He had, at least, been allowed to do work other than the most basic sorting of supplies. The fences needed constant attention, especially with the chained walkers surrounding them; it would be a foolish thing for them to be attacked by one of their main defences, after all.
And so he had been set to work with a group of others to reinforce the points of the fence that were beginning to buckle. There were four of them working on a particular spot, vaguely watched over by an armed henchman.
Each of the three other men had the haunted, defeated look in their eyes that everyone on the bottom-most rung of Negan's operation had. Daryl had no idea how long any of them had been imprisoned here, but he was determined to be free before that look became a permanent feature on his own face.
"Here," he said, as one of the men—a stocky blond guy in his late twenties—struggled to place one end of a huge wooden brace into a hole in the ground. Daryl held the plank steady while the other man guided it in, and then together they pushed the brace up against the fence.
"Thanks," said the guy. "Didn't have time to eat before they got me out here this morning. I don't think physical labor is the best thing for me," he added with a self-deprecating smile.
"What's your name?" asked Daryl.
"Glenn," responded the man, and the name was like a punch to Daryl's stomach. He stared momentarily at the hand outstretched towards him, before he realised he was supposed to shake it. "And you are…?"
"Daryl," he responded shortly. A vague feeling of guilt hung over his shoulders; it wasn't this guy's fault that he had the same name as Daryl's murdered surrogate brother. "How long ya been here?"
Glenn shook his head. "No idea. Months? A year? It's impossible to say."
Once they were certain that the bottom of the brace wasn't going anywhere, they moved to the top end, nailing it into place. Just on the other side of the wall there was the constant sound of the walkers moaning and groaning, their rotten jaws perpetually snapping. Daryl listened for a moment, suddenly aware of how precarious and dangerous it was to be surrounded so closely by the dead. He had always tried to push that thought from his mind, but being so close to them, it was impossible to forget.
"What were ya doin' before?" he asked as a means to distract himself from the noise.
"Surviving," said Glenn. "But barely."
"And ya think it's better here?"
Glenn paused before answering, the haunted look in his eyes growing more prominent. "I've not had to fight my way through a hundred rotters since I've been here. I've not had to watch my friends, my family die. But…" His eyes suddenly grew wide and fearful, and he dropped respectfully to one knee.
Daryl turned and saw Negan walking towards them. Begrudgingly, he did the same. Negan didn't so much as look at them as he swaggered past.
"But you're fed up of bowin' to that bastard?" said Daryl in a low voice, once Negan was out of earshot.
Glenn nodded shortly. "Come on," he said. "Let's get this finished. If we're quick we might earn a bigger lunch."
"So, you'd fight back against him if ya had the chance?" pressed Daryl.
Glenn quickly looked from side to side, at the armed guard who wasn't paying them much mind, and at Negan's retreating back. "You looking to get us shot?" he hissed. "Or worse?"
"Naw, man," replied Daryl. "Jus' thinkin' out loud is all."
Glenn narrowed his eyes and went back to work in silence, Daryl joining him a second later. He had no idea how well Sherry was doing at convincing people to fight back, but he had mostly experienced varying degrees of similar attitudes to Glenn's. Everyone was too scared to commit. And Daryl couldn't say that he blamed them. Their fear was tangible and justified.
Despite the cold, wintery air, sweat was pouring down his face as he worked as hard as possible; he didn't know when Rick and the rest would be attacking, but Glenn was right. They could earn a bigger meal from this job, and if he was fighting back alone, he'd prefer to do it on a full stomach.
Suddenly, one of the men on guard duty shouted at the top of his lungs. "Boss? We got a big fucking problem!"
Daryl looked up sharply, his heart pounding hard in his chest. Surely they weren't attacking now, in the middle of the day? It was suicide to do something so idiotic…
But sure enough, some of the men on the guard towers were already starting to fire. Daryl looked around desperately for anything he could use as a weapon; his best bet was surely to try and take down one of the guards and steal his gun, but until they were in the middle of a full battle, he'd be shot on sight if he attempted such a move. Why the fuck was Rick attacking now? It made no sense…
"Stop firing, you dumbass fucks!" shouted Negan. "You'll attract more of them!"
Daryl practically sighed with relief. From the sound of it, it was just walkers. He was still in with a chance of recruiting fighters and gaining a weapon before the final assault.
"We got more coming over here, boss!" shouted a man from another guard tower.
He watched as Negan raced to a different guard tower and climbed up, then swore violently. He looked ready to kill as he climbed back down. "Everyone inside," he shouted. "Now!"
Daryl's short-lived relief quickly evaporated. Maybe it was more than just a few walkers? He hung back a moment, hoping to pick up on more information, but they were all forcefully shepherded indoors. As usual, the workers bowed towards Negan at the sight of him, but he had no time for his usual theatrics. He jumped up on the main sorting table and addressed the room.
"We've got herds heading directly for us. And I mean a fucking shit-ton of them. Must have wiped out the outposts, because that is the only acceptable reason for no one warning us of this. They'll be at the fences in minutes. We let the fuckers build up at the fences, they're going to knock them right down and take us out with them. So we direct their flow. We open the front gates and let the dead fuckers come right at us. Every one of you worthless fucks gets to prove yourself today. You'll be given a weapon. And you'll be out there, fighting back the hordes of the dead. And we're going to win. Are any of you pussies too scared to fight? Let me know now."
Not a single person spoke up, and Negan looked around suspiciously.
"You sure? Be fucking honest with me, because I'm not watching out for any pansy-ass pussies who can't hold their own in a fight. You're too fucking scared to face the dead, step forward now. You can cry and suck your fucking thumbs upstairs whilst us real men take care of this."
A few people nervously stepped forward, and Negan nodded at them to make their way to the next level up. As soon as their backs were turned, he grabbed an assault rifle from ones of his men and mowed them down in cold blood.
"Anyone else?" he shouted. No one spoke. "Fucking good. Trev? See to it everyone gets something. We do this hand to hand. We all go out there, guns blazing, and we're going to attract every fucking dead piece of shit in Virginia."
All around him, people were starting to whimper in terror. So many of the people here were so desperately subjugated and used to being behind walls, that they had forgotten how to fight. Daryl swore he'd do what he could to protect them from the walkers, but if there was a chance to take Negan down, this was too perfect an opportunity to miss. He could end Negan's reign of terror without any of his Alexandria family having to be involved at all.
And if he ended up being taken down by walkers himself… well, at least it meant that Negan no longer had any hold over Carol. She'd be free.
He was eventually armed with a sharp hunting knife, and goddamn did it feel good to be armed once again, especially with the knowledge that he could end everything at last. He knew he'd only get one shot at this, and if he failed, it'd destroy everything. He had to pick his moment carefully, and make sure he wasn't seen. It'd be a damn stupid decision to try and attack Negan, only to get shot in the back by one of his henchmen.
As he waited out in the courtyard for the coming battle, he took a look around at the terrified faces of the people who weren't used to fighting to survive. Undoubtedly a lot of them were facing their deaths. Very briefly he caught Glenn's eye, and nodded in his direction. Glenn nodded back, determination underlined by fear etched into his features.
At last the gates were opened, and Daryl could finally see just how many walkers they were facing. Hundreds of them, stumbling blindly forwards. Daryl took several deep breaths and focused on the main task ahead; staying alive in the face of the overwhelming numbers of rotting corpses trying to tear them apart.
Negan was the first to step straight into the fray, taking down three walkers with a single powerful swing. Everyone else took their lead from him and it was not long before Daryl was covered in thick, greasy, stinking walker blood. The walkers came at them all relentlessly. Over and over he brought his knife down into their skulls, and they kept falling at his feet, more of them coming forwards, tripping over the bodies, their arms outstretched and jaws constantly snapping.
Every now and then he heard a terrible, blood curdling scream, as one of their own fell to the interminable onslaught. If only there was a way to distract Negan—even just for a moment—so that he could be bitten, without getting attacked himself…
First things first—he had to fight his way closer to Negan. He ducked and weaved through the masses of the dead, felling them with each step, and often saving the lives of people fighting without them realizing. At one point he noticed a walker getting dangerously close to Glenn, who was struggling to pull his knife back out from a walker he had just ended. Daryl managed to dispatch the walker just moments before it sunk its rotten teeth into the back of Glenn's neck.
"Thanks," panted Glenn as he realized that Daryl had just saved his life.
"Don't mention it," replied Daryl, turning back into the crowd of walkers.
And then he was only yards away from Negan, fighting throught the waves of the dead, and Daryl saw his opening. A gap in the wave of walkers headed towards him. He side stepped closer to Negan who was swinging his barbed baseball bat so wildly that it would take split second timing to land a fatal blow. But if he didn't take the opportunity while it was there, he might not get another chance.
He quickly glanced around; none of Negan's henchmen would notice if their leader was attacked, as they were all too busy fighting the walkers. Daryl came in close behind him, ready to plunge his knife into the base of Negan's skull, but at the last second Negan turned and saw the betrayal. He roared wildly and threw an elbow back, knocking the knife in Daryl's hand to the floor.
Negan swung the bat, and Daryl nimbly jumped away from its deadly arc. He ducked to the ground to pick up the knife, but once again Negan's bat came flying through the air, and Daryl had to roll to the side to safety. He swore as Negan kicked his knife into the middle of a cluster of walkers that had huddled around a fallen body. The loss of his weapon meant that he'd have to take Negan down by hand.
Without thinking twice, he charged at Negan, catching him around the waist, and knocked him to the ground. The deadly bat slid from his grasp, and Daryl managed to get one really good punch to the bastard's jaw. He looked up briefly; walkers were closing in on them. He quickly scrambled away from their outstretched hands, but Negan tightly gripped hold of his ankle, and he tripped to the floor.
He heard several gunshots and glanced back over his shoulder. Negan had shot the walkers before they could bite him. Daryl swore viciously, and quickly crawled towards Negan's fallen bat, but just as he reached for it, he heard a familiar loud click by his ear, and the feel of cold, hard metal pressing into the back of his head.
"Just try and fucking touch her and see what happens," shouted Negan. "Get him inside," he said, and two of Negan's men grabbed hold of him and pulled him to his feet. Negan picked up his bat, and continued to swing at the oncoming walkers. "Tie him up, beat the shit out of him if you must, but whatever you fuckers do, you don't kill him. That piece of shit is mine. We're clearing the rest of these dead fucks right now."
He struggled desperately to free himself from their grasp, but they managed to overpower him and dragged him inside Sanctuary's factory walls. His hands were pulled behind his back, and a moment later he felt the sting as a cable tie was pulled too tightly around his wrists. A sharp kick to the back of his legs followed and he fell forward, painfully smashing his knees on the concrete ground, as a second cable tie was tightened around his ankles.
He had failed. He didn't care about his own death. That was irrelevant. But Carol… He couldn't allow her to be harmed. The thought of Carol dying the same way Glenn had died… no. He grappled against the cable ties, but they just cut into the exposed skin of his wrists.
From outside the walls, Daryl could hear the sound of rapid gunfire. Apparently Negan no longer cared about killing the walkers quietly; he just wanted it done quickly.
Daryl fought hard against the prickling feeling behind his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was to show these assholes weakness, but it was overwhelming. He blinked, and could feel the hot tears burning a trail down his cheeks.
It wasn't fair. He was supposed to be the one to save her. He had saved her. After failing to save her little girl, he had promised himself that he wouldn't let any more harm befall her. And now she was facing the most horrific death imaginable, and it was entirely his fault. Merle. Hershel. Beth. Denise. Glenn. All dead because of him. And now Carol as well.
He could no longer hold it in and his despair was wrenched from him in animalistic cry. He was vaguely aware of the laughter from the men holding him captive, and as he cried he became aware that the sound of gunfire outside was dying down. Eventually it stopped entirely, and was replaced by the sound of heavy boots stomping towards him. A hand roughly grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back, and he was looking straight into the furious eyes of the madman that he was supposed to kill.
"I fucking warned you, you stupid piece of shit," Negan shouted, and his fist connected painfully with Daryl's stomach. He doubled over, heaving and retching. "So now, you have to pay. And so does little Carol. As soon as we've dealt with the last of the biters, we're taking a little trip to your home town. And you get to watch as I smash your milf's head in. Then you get to join her. And I fucking promise, I'm going to make it slow. And just so you know, that town is going to be so fucked. I'm not taking half anymore. I'm taking half, and half again. And every piece of shit living there is going to curse your name every fucking day until they day they die, wasted and starved, because they'll all know that it's your fucking fault that they have to live on so little."
The world before his eyes swam dangerously, then rapidly closed in on him. White noise echoed loudly in his ears, and a layer of cold sweat covered his body. He fought hard against the feeling of vertigo, but unconsciousness quickly embraced him.
He opened his eyes but it was still dark. A piece of cloth had been roughly tied around his mouth, and a scratchy hessian sack pulled down over his head. He was lying on the floor of a fast moving vehicle; he could feel every lump and bump in the road as he was tossed from side to side. His captors didn't know he was awake, and he was more than happy for it to stay that way.
"What the actual fuck?" shouted Negan suddenly, and the vehicle screeched to a halt. "What in the ever-living fucking fuck?"
"Walkers didn't do this," said one of the men. "They've destroyed everything."
"You think I'm so fucking blind that I can't tell that for myself?"
"Do you think the other outposts are the same?" said another man.
There was a pregnant pause, then Negan spoke again. "This is his people," he said. "I don't know how the fuck they found us, but they did it before, and they've done it again. Yes, I think the other outposts are as fucked as this one. Looks like their fucking leader is going to have to pay with his life as well, then."
Fear gripped Daryl in an ice cold vice. It was the third time in his life that he had felt entirely helpless, but this time it was far, far worse. As he had waited in line to be slaughtered at Terminus, and as he had knelt before Negan for the first ever time, his thoughts had turned to Carol. He'd thought of her smile, and focused on the times that she had smiled because of him. And he had comforted himself with the knowledge that she was still alive, safe and far away.
But now, he was being taken to witness her death, and that of his brother, before his own brutal execution. His breathing turned shallow as panic overwhelmed him, and he struggled to extricate himself from the tight bonds around his wrists.
"Boss?" called a nearby voice. "He's awake and thrashing about back here."
"Then knock him the fuck out, and stop fucking bothering me."
A hand roughly grabbed the back of his hair through the hessian sack and slammed him to the floor. Through the darkness flashed a blinding white light, and then there was nothing.
