A/N: Another chapter as promised. Thank you all for following and faving this story. I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 14 -
Father Gabriel sat on the watch tower next to Harley looking over the books of the cartographers with a small penlight. He told her he couldn't sleep. After feeding the men and giving them a change of clothes he had fallen into an uneasy sleep that didn't last too long. He lay in bed for an hour after waking then decided to join her on the tower to find out what she found in the bags.
Harley heard a lot of 'dear Gods' escape his lips as he went through the maps and read the parts of the notes that weren't in code. At one point she thought she heard him crying. She ignored it, letting him have his moment. She was still processing everything herself. She had only just learned of communities here on the outskirts of the capital and suddenly the whole world had just exploded before her with the turn of a page. These maps made her want to go out and find other groups herself. To confirm it was all true. How did they live, thrive?
He finally closed the last book and placed it back in the bag and sat unmoving, deep in thought. Harley sat down next to him, the bags of the men between them, and looked his way. "You okay Father?"
He nodded his head. "Are you a religious woman Harley?" he asked her.
"I wasn't before all this." She still wasn't but sometimes she had found herself wondering if this was the wrath of God come down upon them.
Father Gabriel snorted bitterly. "Most people lose their faith after something like this."
"Did you?"
Father Gabriel was silent, he played his fingers against his knees which were drawn into his chest, his head face up to the bright stars in the sky.
"I think I did. I did things no godly man should do. Would do. I was weak and cowardly. Cruel. But I found my way back to the lord, stronger than I ever was."
Harley put her hands on his, more to stop the incessant drumming of his fingers against his legs than to comfort him. "But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength."
"Amen," Father Gabriel said. "You know the Bible?"
"A few things here and there." She removed her hands from his and hoped he would not go back to his nervous tapping. "I'll tell you one thing. If there is a god he has sent down his four horsemen on us. Outside these walls ride famine, pestilence, war and death and we are the unfortunate ones who get to witness his apocalypse."
"No. We are the fortunate ones who get to rebuild this world. Possibly into something better than it was before."
It was Harley's turn snort bitterly. She knew Father Gabriel's story. How he locked his congregation, neighbors and friends out of his church. How he let them all die in his cowardice. Daryl had told her everything. Now this man was a protector. A fighter. A killer. Perhaps the end of the world had made him better. Stronger.
She certainly had no idea how resilient she could be until this all happened. How determined she was to live. How cold she could turn her heart in order to save herself. The most surprising thing to her was the fact she still had her humanity. She could still find joy. Even alone in the woods she would find herself laughing at the memories she had of her sister. Of her nephews and niece. But, inevitably, her mind would shift to the last time she saw them. Their faces ashen, their eyes hollow and dim, their mouths rimmed with blood. And then the baby. Tiny remnants of her scattered on the floor.
Was this really better?
"What denomination are you Father?"
"Episcopalian."
"Do you take confession?"
"No, I do not." Father Gabriel turned to Harley. "Do you have something to confess?"
"No," Harley lied. Thinking about her sister made her want to tell someone why she didn't put her or her sons down. Why she left them to wander in torment, in unending life with an unending need to feed.
Harley saw the slow rise of the sun in the far horizon and stood up. Grabbing the bags of the men she looked down at Father Gabriel, "can you cover my watch for the last few hours? I can start early tonight."
Father Gabriel nodded and slung his rifle over his shoulder and stood up to watch over the wall as she climbed down the ladder and headed to the prison cell.
A bare bulb hung from the ceiling outside the cell. The men were awake, sitting next to each other on the single bed in the cell, their backs against the wall, whispering to one another. They got quiet when Harley walked in, carrying their packs.
She dropped their bags along the wall behind her and stood silently, staring at them. They both wore a clean pair of pants and t-shirts.
The tall man walked up to the bars. "How long are you going to keep us locked in here? Your sign on the road said 'Mercy for the Lost'."
She regarded him. He didn't look angry, more worried. Probably wondering what they had in store in for them. "It also says 'Vengeance for the Plunderers'." Dick sat up when she said that. "I cannot let you out, not before our leader gets back. He'll want to speak with you. You're well taken care of here. Did you eat well? Do the clothes fit? Have a nice bath?"
"Where are our clothes?" Dick asked. His attitude as pleasant as ever.
"We're going to have to burn them. Your shoes are being washed as are your raincoats."
"You went through our things?"
"Yes. Is that how you made it so far? Walking in the guts?"
The tall man nodded his head.
Harley opened on of their bags and pulled out a map book. "And these."
"What about them?" the tall man asked.
"Tell me about these." She handed the book to him between the bars.
He opened the book, turning to a page he placed the tracing paper down over it and showed her the new territory. "This is a settlement called Haven Hope. There were almost two hundred people living there. They took over two towns, at first using cars as barriers against the dead before building walls out of steel. They grew food, had animals, an army of sorts. Everyone had a job to do, even the children. They had strict rules about safety and crime. It was a good place. Being far from the city they weren't too overrun and they dealt quickly with the ranks."
"The ranks?" Harley was confused.
"That's what we call them. You know, because they're rank? They called them laz. After Lazareth from the Bible." He flipped to another page. He pointed to a settlement that had a skull and crossbones.
"What does the skull and crossbones mean?"
"Dangerous settlements. This one was ran by men who would take and trade women. Breed them like livestock and use them up. When they were no longer needed or wanted for babies or sex they were made to work. We almost didn't make it out there alive. Had to sneak out in the night."
"World's really not safe for women," Dick said. "Some of the places we've seen would talk about breaking in women like horses. They'd use them as currency. For food, weapons, things like that. A lot of sick shit out there. And age didn't really matter. Young boys too, like that kid out there. That group, the Rangers, they would have used him up quick."
Harley scowled. "I suggest you keep that tidbit to yourselves when the leader comes. That's his son."
"Are we in danger here?" the tall man asked. "Give it to us straight."
"Maybe, but not from us. We're at war. If we win, the worst we'll do is kick you out. If we lose," Harley looked at one then the other. "Then we're all in danger."
"War?" Dick said. "With who? Why?"
"A group who holds the other groups hostage. They demand half the supplies or they kill. That's about all I can tell you. I'm new here myself."
The men nodded.
"So," Harley clapped her hands together. "Tell me about yourselves." She reached down and picked up her own notebook and began to write.
The tall man was named Jerome. Dick was Thomas. Not Tom. Thomas. They were part of a group of gamers and fantasy role players from San Jose California who had paid close attention to the warning signs. They listened closely to reports of people who couldn't be killed. People who ate the flesh of others. People who began to rise from the dead. They traded information with other watchers on the internet, preparing for the coming darkness. Maxing out their credit cards on gathering supplies, somehow knowing that the bill would not matter, may never matter.
None of them were professional cartographers but had enough experience creating maps of the worlds they created on and offline. They had come together to survive, pushing their way into Northern California, trying to make their way into Canada, figuring the cold would slow down the dead, the ranks. They had made it half way to Sacramento, when, held up in a house, they devised a plan to document the new world that was forming slowly and horrifically before their eyes.
There were eight of them. Four territories were carved out for them to document. They gave themselves five years to complete their mission before they would meet up in a small town in northern Canada. They had decided the last day of the old world was December 31, 2011. The new world began January first the first year post apocalypse or PA. as they called it. She had seen their calendar but had paid no attention to it. Jerome pointed out that today was August 13, PA 3.
The men had passed through Arizona where they said the dead thrived with no sign of a proper winter and people had difficulty feeding themselves except on the far outskirts where the dead had to cross vast open land, there they would rot faster under the direct sunlight in the heat, making it harder for them to get to the groups of the living.
In Texas, people had many strong holds, lots of guns and was so dangerous they tried their best to go unnoticed. Bandits raced up the streets, killing anything they thought was dead. Taking anyone they thought was living. It was almost wholly unsafe for women and children unless they had a strong group of men around them.
In Louisiana the gators had grown fat off the flesh of the dead. People built settlements in the middle of swamps on stilts where the dead could only get to them by stepping foot in the waters where the reptiles waited to take them to the bottoms to feed. New Orleans was dead. A few feral people still survived there but they were dangerous, covetous of the limited supplies left. Wary of the levies that would give way in the near future and flood the city completely.
The coastal areas of Georgia, South Carolina and North Carolina had cities on the sea made up of boats and barges anchored offshore. During the hurricane season they found shelter inland and worked to build permanent summer communities that would keep out the dead. Further in land was swarmed. The small towns fared the best as they were easier to barricade and they already had large swaths of land to grow food and raise animals.
Wilderness had begun to take over the cities. Wolves, deer and bears were growing in numbers. Packs and herds of them could be found throughout. Zoo animals also ran freely. They had seen the carcasses of giraffes and elephants, seen wild cats feast on the dead, heard monkeys in the trees. Thomas swore he saw a few gorillas.
Harley furiously took notes as she listened to them. She was almost envious of all the good things they had seen, the amazing encounters they had. But there was also a lot of darkness in this world. There always had been but now it blanketed civilization unchallenged. Unabated. It was free to grow and become nurtured into something more sinister than before.
The sun was rising in the sky, draping everything in its golden yellow glow when the bus pulled up outside Alexandria, the bus door opening up on the maze of cars. People got out and stood on the hoods of the cars, forming a line up to the walls and passed their looted supplies to each other down the line, laying them to rest on the ground before the wall until the bus was emptied of them.
Abraham led people carrying supplies to the house that held the armory and pantry, where they rested them on the porch to be divvied up between the three groups. He said he would get Olivia to rustle up some food for the group before they settled in for some much needed rest.
They were suppose to have twenty-four people on their team, but were only returning with fifteen. On the ride back everyone looked dejected. Abraham had shed a few tears when he noticed Tara was not there. Glenn and Heath had gone quiet, as if in shock. Neither showing any real emotion even though they were both close to her. Heath had spent weeks on the road with her doing runs and had probably known her better than anyone.
Ezekiel had been in quiet mourning on the bus. He had lost six of his people and Shiva. All Daryl could think to do was put his hand on the king's shoulder and give it a solid squeeze. Suddenly the king had stood and addressed the people on the bus.
"My people," he had started, "we have lost nine of our own. Nine who we cared for and loved. Nine who fought valiantly for our cause. Nine who will be missed but not forgotten." Ezekiel had paused a moment to gather his thoughts. "We are not done with this war. We may lose more men and women. But we will fight. Hard and strong until we have won. Our people will not, cannot, die in vain."
They had simply stared at the man. No one spoke a word until Abraham said silently, "fuckin' A."
"Fuckin' A," Sasha echoed him and then more murmurs of 'fuckin' A'. Then there was chanting. It was exciting to Daryl, to see them broken and hopeful, chanting Abraham's profanity with gusto as the bus drove through the dark roads back to Alexandria.
Then it had dwindled and died, returning the bus once more to silence and sadness.
As he walked towards the gate Daryl spotted Father Gabriel up on the watch tower. No sign of Harley anywhere.
"Where's my dad?" Carl asked immediately.
"Where's Harley?" Daryl countered.
"With some men. Where's my dad and Michonne?"
"They ain't back yet. What do you mean she's with some men?"
"Two men came last night looking for sanctuary. We put them in the cell."
Daryl didn't like the sound of that. Two men came in the night and they let them in? Were they Saviors? Part of some other dangerous group?
"They're good guys," Carl said, possibly reading concern on Daryl's face. "They're car-car-map makers. We got their weapons and put them naked in the cell."
Daryl's eyebrows shot up. Naked?
"They had underwear on," Father Gabriel called down to him. "They were stripped of weapons and placed in the cell where we cleaned and fed them and provided them with a change of clothes. They don't seem to be a threat and are legitimate in their claims."
Daryl nodded his head and went towards the cell that was built in one of the basements below the townhouses. Outside the gated door he could hear voices speaking low. He stepped through the door and stood in the hall that led to cell. He could hear more clearly now.
"Electric vehicles? Really?" Harley was asking one of the men. "What other things did they have?"
"They had a few windmills along with solar panels. Electricity was scarcely used though, but there were a few working outlets in the houses and lights on the street." The man speaking had deep voice. He sounded tired as he answered and there was an audible yawn from someone.
Daryl stepped out the hall into the room with the cell. He saw Harley sitting on the ground across from the men, writing in one of the notebooks Cola had given her. She didn't notice him step into the room. The men did though and both looked at him. They had seen better days. Both looked emaciated, their faces gaunt, the clothes they wore a few sizes too big.
"Hey," Daryl called out to her. Harley turned her head and looked up at him. Her face was impassive, she gave no hint of emotion as she studied him. Silently she stood and started putting things into the bags next to her. Once they were closed she lifted them up and without a word to anyone she walked from the room, past Daryl, and out the door. Daryl gave one last look at the men then followed her outside, where she stood waiting for him.
Harley's hands went around his waist as soon as he faced her. She squeezed him to her, her face pressed to his chest, and silently cried, her body shaking from sobbing. Daryl held her. He was swallowed in a strange kind of joy at her tears. She had been afraid for him. She had seemed so calm as she spoke to the men in the cell and now she was weeping, wetting his shirt with her tears. He felt love in her tears, in the way she gripped him tighter.
Not realizing how afraid she had been for Daryl the hot tears surprised Harley. She hadn't given their mission a conscious thought. Not once since they left had she thought about what they were out there doing. Not one thought of what could possibly happen to them out there. Not one thought that he may never come back. All her unthought of fears and worries came out when she saw him, alive and well, blood staining his face, his hair slick with it, his arms a roadway of scratches.
"Is it over?" Her voice was barely audible as she mumbled into her chest.
"No."
Harley pulled free of him and let out a deep breath. "You have to go back out there?" Daryl wiped her wet face and nodded. "When?"
"I'll know when Rick and Jesus get back. Soon." He kissed her neck, not trusting to touch her face with his, not knowing what he had on his face.
She went to the bags and picked them up. "Come, let's get you cleaned up. You look like shit."
She hadn't asked him about any details. She hadn't asked him much of anything. She helped him remove his clothes before removing hers and they stepped into the shower together where she gently bathed him and washed his hair. He watched blood run down the drain. His blood, Savior blood, walker blood. It all commingled on his body. He wanted the memories of yesterday to wash down the drain too. Their comrades being shot then reanimated at the Sanctuary. Tara dead by the second outpost, being feasted on by walkers, her chest cavity ripped wide, the hands of walkers sinking deep within her. Shiva being torn apart.
Daryl had never heard a sound like that of the large cat. The terror, the pain. He could still see her fur, hanging with pieces of flesh from the hands of the walkers. He could still see her muscles being torn by their rancid mouths.
He was tired. Not just physically but emotionally. Tired of all the killing he'd had to do the last few months. Tired of burying people he cared for. Tired of all the fucking dead walking around.
Worried eyes stared back at him when he looked at Harley. Her lips brushed lightly against the bruised knuckles of his hand and her small fingers danced over the bruises on his arms and shoulders.
I killed that man, he thought as he looked at the now purple mark that circled her arm. I cut him open and watched him die with a pained look of fright. Daryl leaned down and kissed her and pushed her body against the wall of the shower. His face pressed into hers, his mouth frantic as he shoved his tongue into her mouth. His hands gripped her breasts roughly in a mad frenzy as he tried to lose himself in her. Needing the taste of her mouth, the softness of her skin, the tightness of her sex to somehow ease the turbulence he was feeling.
He stopped as suddenly as he had started. Aware of the force he was using on her and was displeased by it. She deserved tenderness. Serene love making. Not the barbaric fucking he wanted at that moment.
He let Harley lead him out the shower. His mood blackened with each second. His emotions shut down. He felt his body sway as she toweled him off. He stood still as she wrapped the towel around his waist and went without protest as she led him into the bedroom and laid him down on the floor on his stomach.
Harley straddled over him, kneading the tension out his muscles with surprisingly skilled hands. He closed his eyes as the knots in his muscled untied, the soreness was stroked away. If only she could massage away his memories.
With each passing moment Harley had seen the look in Daryl's eyes change. By the time they had reached the bathroom he had the look of wild animal. Eyes dark and far away, his face swam with a brutal expression she imagined he wore when he was fighting the Saviors. She felt a slight fear of him in that moment. Afraid of what he had just done. Afraid of the kind of space his mind would have to be in to do those things.
She wasn't sure she wanted to know what had happened. Some secrets were better kept locked away. Sometimes it was better to imagine the events than to know the truth of them. The scratches on his body. His bruised knuckles. The fresh blood that had no cuts and scrapes underneath. The details didn't have to be divulged to her.
"I want to get in bed," Daryl said after what seemed like hours of being pampered and babied by her. She silently rose off him and he removed his towel and crawled into bed. Harley went to the dresser and began to put on a shirt and panties.
"Take that shit off." Harley turned to him at his surly command but said nothing as she stripped and got into bed with him. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so gruff. I just want to feel you." He pulled her to him and she rested her head on his chest, her leg across his stomach as he stroked her back.
"Do you want to talk to me? About what happened?"
"Not now. When this is all over I will, but not now." He lifted her face to his to kiss her softly and she held on to him, kissing him deeply. He could feel her want for him, her want to make love to him but he couldn't. He still felt savage from the fight. He wanted to thrust his anger away inside her.
"I love you Harley," he gave her another kiss. "I said I was gonna tell you again." The smile he gave her was weak.
"Should I be worried about you?"
"No." Maybe.
He turned on his side and ran his fingers along her chest before bending his head to slowly kiss along one of her nipples and then the other. She grabbed his head tight to her and his lips traveled slow and wet along her skin.
"Do you want to make love?"
He looked up at her, the wild still in his eyes. "I do, but I can't. I won't be gentle."
"So don't be gentle," her hand guided his between her legs and she rubbed against his palm and he moaned into her chest. Maybe after he would finally relax, get that feral look off his face. Put him in the here and now. But it wasn't going to happen. He moved his hand and rolled on his back.
"I don't wanna be rough with you. Keep being sweet to me though. I like that."
Harley sat up and grabbed his arm and began to massage it from shoulder to fingertips. "Mmmm, that's nice," he murmured, closing his eyes. She hoped he would go to sleep, wake up with the past night a distant memory. "Can you do my legs too? Been running and bending too much."
Harley moved to sit between his legs and lifted one leg over her shoulder and massaged the thigh. Daryl groaned. After thoroughly working that leg she put it down and started with the other one.
"Aren't you tired?"
"Too wired to sleep," he said. "I feel like I could run a hundred miles right now."
"What did you do before, after fights?"
"Walk around the compound until I could barely stand. Go hunting. Go for long drives."
"Do you want to walk around for a while?"
"No."
She was tapped out. She lay back down in his arms. "I'm tired Daryl. But if you need me to, I'll stay up with you."
He kissed her. "You would wouldn't you?" He didn't wait for her answer. He grabbed her on top of him and kissed her again, deeper, licking his tongue against hers, letting his hand slide between her legs and rubbing her until she began to moan and grind against him. "I'mma need you to stay up a little while longer," he pushed his fingers in her. "Say, five more minutes or so."
Harley laughed. "Is that all? Five minutes." Her laughter turned to moans as he pulled her up higher on him and began to suck her nipples.
"Three if you keep up all that noise."
Daryl sat up to get better access to her as she sat astride him. He put his fingers in her mouth as he played his lips against her breasts.
Harley raised up and took hold of him and slid down around him. She slowly rose and fell on him, increasing her rhythm, the force of her thrusts. He would let her be in control, let her set the pace, let her determine how rough or gentle they were. Everytime she swallowed him up they both moaned and grunted. No thoughts other than what they were doing filled Daryl's mind. All else was forgotten in the pleasure of her body, in her gentle caresses, in the erotic sounds of her moans.
When they were both spent they lay wrapped up in each other. Harley was asleep and Daryl was finally relaxing. His last bit of tension had spilled into her with a shudder. This was better than long walks or drives or hunting. This was comfort and pleasure and love. This was what he had always secretly longed for and finally had.
"First thing, before the sun even rises, we head out." Rick looked half dead. His hair was tousled on his head, his eyes red and set back behind black circles. Dried blood rested around a gash in his forehead. The knuckles on his right hand bruised and bloody.
His group had arrived shortly after noon. They had lost a few people in their fight but had gained extra people from a nearby compound who ventured out to see the commotion and joined them in their fight. They had managed to destroy both outposts, killing all the Saviors inside and taking all their supplies.
Daryl watched bleary eyed from the corner, listening to the plan to storm the Sanctuary. To finish this. He didn't participate in the planning. He merely listened and looked at the faces of the people representing each group as they nodded in agreement and steadied their minds to continue on.
"We use one bus to lure the herd away from the compound and bring them here," Rick pointed to the map. "The people inside will get on the roof of the bus and take the herd down. Each person should have spears and a gun. When the herd is gone the rest of us go in." Rick surveyed the room, reading the faces of everyone there. "We have two choices here. We can go in and eliminate them one by one or we can burn the place down."
"I know we can't leave them standing, and maybe I'm a coward," Ted, one of the Kingdom men said, "But I don't want to look in the eyes of civilians and children when I send them on their way. I say we burn it and pick off anyone who comes outside. If there are people who look to not be a threat, maybe we can save them but going in, I don't want to do that."
A few others mumbled in agreement. Going inside would be dangerous. The factory was large, and Negan's men would be ready for a fight. They couldn't sneak from room to room in the dead of night surprising sleeping people unaware of what was coming. Then there were the civilians, the families that lived there. Even though the other plan of burning was going to be just as deadly to them, no one wanted to look at the death and depravity they were about to embark on.
"We have to give them another chance to surrender. At least the people with children. We can't just slaughter them all with no chance to get out," Lorrain from the Hilltop declared. "An hour. Give them an hour to send people out who want to leave. Allow them the chance to escape if Negan won't let them leave. Maybe they'll kill him for us."
"I agree," Michonne spoke up. "I can't massacre innocent people, no matter how misguided their choices were. I couldn't live myself, knowing I burned children."
"We can wait," Daryl spoke up finally. All eyes turned to him. "Send a group to lead the walkers away then wait. He'll come for us. He won't sit up in that tower of his once the way is clear. We stake out nearby and follow him out and stop him on the road. No need to go to him."
"That is true," Ezekiel said in agreement. "Negan is not a patient man. He may wait a day or two after we clear the herd, but no more than that. We set the other two busses nearby and keep a watchful eye. When he gathers what's left of his men to go to which ever community he thinks will be best to attack, we follow. Then we fight and take them down."
Rick nodded slowly. "The community he'll come for is this one. We've been a thorn in his ass since the beginning. He'll come to destroy this place." Rick thought a moment. "We're gonna have to carry a smaller group. People will have to be left here just in case. How many do we have left?"
"We returned with fifteen," Ezekiel said.
"And we have eighteen," Michonne offered. "Plus the additional ten who joined us."
Sixteen people lost, Daryl worked out quickly in his mind. "How many do we leave here?" He asked.
"How many do we have left? How many came back?" Rick countered.
"Thirty-three plus ten."
"We'll leave thirteen behind and take thirty with us." Rick yawned. "Ezekiel, Daryl, Jesus. Let's work this out quick then we'll speak to our respective groups. I need to get some sleep. Something tells me if Negan moves, he will move at night. That gives us the day to set up, fine tune the plan, and get some rest."
Abraham and Sasha went out to chose thirteen people to stay behind and help keep watch. Then they would gather them and walk them around the compound before they worked out a new watch schedule.
Daryl yawned loud and long then walked to the dining room to sit at the table to yet again hammer out another attack plan on Negan. After almost two hours they had settled on a plan and now they were discussing what to do with Negan if they were able to capture him and how to deal with the remaining Saviors.
Voices were raised, anger was shown, but the consensus was to execute Negan. Officially. The Saviors would be given a chance to change and become productive members of their network, but they would have to be watched closely and prove they were no longer a threat.
Daryl hoped Negan would be captured alive so that the rest of his people can see what will happen if they didn't fall in line. He didn't feel good about what they would have to do, but they could not allow people to interfere with survival when there was so much out there that interfered already. The dead, disease, disaster, starvation. Destructive forces that could be eliminated had to be.
Rick and Daryl headed down to cell with plates of food and fresh bottles of water. The two men were asleep on the cot head to foot. Rick wanted to meet them before he finally went home and got some much needed rest. Daryl wearily agreed it was best to check them out and get a feel for them before heading out again, make sure they weren't another threat in their midst.
Rick tapped on the bars of cell and both men's eyes opened and they sat up when they saw Rick and Daryl.
"We brought you something hot to eat," Rick said, going to the small door that was built into the wall of the cell for passing food back and forth.
Jerome got up and took a plate and passed it to Thomas before taking the second plate and sitting back down on the cot eating.
"I'm Rick," Rick said. "This is Daryl."
Daryl stared at them silently through the bars as they wolfed down their food. Jerome ate the last morsels of food and looked like he was contemplating licking his plate before he placed it on the floor of cell.
"That woman said we were safe here. From you at least. Was she lying?" Jerome asked as he stood to take the bottles of water from Daryl through the bars.
"Are you planning on doing anything to our group?" Rick asked.
"Besides observe and map out your territory? No."
"Then no."
"So can you let us out?" Thomas asked between long drinks of water. Daryl smiled remembering how Harley kept referring to him as Dick.
"Not today," Rick answered. "Harley, the woman who let you in, says you could be an asset to us. I just want to make sure her judgement of you was correct. Looking over your books I say it is."
As Rick spoke with the men Daryl observed. These men looked too weak to be a threat. Their bodies were emaciated, their eyes sunken in and had a look of complete exhaustion. They were weary of the questions but answered anyway. Jerome had more diplomacy than Thomas who was getting visibly annoyed at being held in the cage, having to piss and shit in the open like an animal.
Rick and Daryl stepped outside. "What do you think?" Rick asked him.
"I trust them. They're just a bunch of nerds on a mission. How they survived, I can't tell, but they don't strike me as dangerous."
"I agree. I think we should keep them here until this mess with Negan is over though. Can't have people looking out for Saviors and them at the same time. Harley is right though, they could help us with the next step, give us a view of how others are building their societies."
Daryl nodded. "We tell 'em to hold tight for now and ask them to stay a while. We can set them up in one of the basement units. Get two beds down there and get them rations. It'll be far better livin' that what they're use to, I guarantee."
"Yeah," Rick said wearily. "You mind finishing this up? I'm dead on my feet."
"Sure thing man."
Daryl went back in and faced the men. "Okay," he began, "we're gonna let you out but after this mess we're in is all done."
"Come on man," Thomas said.
"Look," Daryl barked. "You ain't being mistreated. You ain't being starved. You're being held. I guess all those other places you been to gave you better treatment. Just let you in like you was royalty."
The men stared blankly at him after his outburst. Thomas was about the open his mouth again but Jerome turned to him and shook his head.
"So what happens next?" Jerome asked.
Daryl took a deep breath. He was too tired for this shit. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and finally get into a deep black sleep.
"Next? In exchange for information about the other places you've been, we'll offer you a place to stay and a steady supply of food. You both look like shit. Scrawny and weak. Get some meat back on your bones, build up your strength. There are two other communities we work with that will offer you the same." He handed Jerome his notebook along with a new one from Harley and a pencil. "Decode that book of yours for us too. Harley is kinda our self appointed historian. This will help her out. Give you something to do while you wait. It may be another few days but you'll be out."
"You got any girls here?" Thomas asked. "Man I haven't been laid in like forever. I used to get a whole lotta pussy before all this shit started."
"You are a whole lotta pussy," Daryl said and Jerome snorted.
"That Harley chick? She doesn't like me too much. Bet she'd be a good hate fuck."
Daryl laughed. He had no doubt Harley would not be living out Thomas' fantasy of hate sex with him. Listening to her tell stories about her dad, he knew Harley had a good bit of a mean streak in her. He could only imagine what she'd do to Thomas if he ever suggested such a thing to her. "I think you need to work on getting your strength back before you worry about all that."
Thomas shrugged. "Not really my type anyway. Too scrawny and her tits are too small."
"I don't think you're her type either," Daryl said evenly.
"No? What's her type man?" Thomas sat up, suddenly interested.
"Me."
Thomas slouched back down as Jerome looked anxiously between the two men.
"You gonna beat my ass now?" Thomas had lost all his bravado as he eyed Daryl.
"Nah," Daryl smiled at him. "You're the last man I'm worried about."
Jerome burst out laughing. "You have to forgive Thomas. He never had much people skills."
"Don't fret man," Daryl said to Thomas. "I'm sure between the three communities you'll find something you like."
"But will they like him?" Jerome asked. "That's the real dilemma."
"Ya'll hang tight," Daryl told them getting ready to leave. "Oh and I'll let Harley know you wanna hate fuck her. Would love to know what she'll have to say to you about that."
Daryl walked out with the sound of Jerome's laughter in his ears.