Daryl guided his motorcycle through the back roads of Virginia, leading the parade of Alexandrians south. He had been so relieved to lay eyes on his bike again. Riding in cars always made him feel trapped. If this was going to be the last road trip he ever made, he'd much rather be on this machine than inside a four-door cage.
Although now he was starting to feel like he was trapped in a cage of his own thoughts. There were so many ways this escape plan could go wrong and he couldn't seem to stop them from rattling around in his head.
They had already doubled back twice. Once for a fallen tree in the road. A second time because the road had been washed away down the hillside. It served as a reminder that the world was taking itself back. Humans had spent centuries developing the land, building roads, structures, molding the landscape. It wasn't natural. It was all human invention for the purpose of convenience and comfort. It seemed foolish now. This planet allowed people to exist. Not the other way around. How arrogant was the human race to imagine they could control a force as great as nature? Within a couple years all trace of human existence would likely be erased. All that would be left of mankind would be their trash piles. Just a bunch of rubble that would never decompose. That's the human legacy that would be left behind: garbage.
Daryl shook his head, trying to stop that train of thought. He needed to stay focused. Doubling back meant they had to be very conservative with their gas. If they ran out they would be sitting ducks. Someone would have to trek out to the highway and see if any of the abandoned vehicles had any fuel left to siphon. That was another thing. How long would they be able to keep cars running if they stayed here. At some point all the gas would be gone or would have gone bad. It was like all the years of human invention were rolling backwards. Everyone who was left on Earth would eventually return to caveman days. Even now everyone was starting to behave like Neanderthals.
That brought his mind back to Negan. Doubling back also meant the Saviors had a chance to catch up. It was one more "if" that worried him. What if Negan tracked them, caught up, what then? Then it was time for war, but without the defenses of their walls.
He shook his head again. He couldn't allow himself to follow that train of thought. He couldn't think about the what ifs. He needed to focus on the road in front of him.
Just as he regained his focus he rounded a turn and had to quickly stop his bike. He grabbed a little too much front brake and nearly stood the machine on its nose. As the motorcycle came to a halt he shifted to neutral and brought both feet to the ground. He didn't dismount. He leaned his elbows on the handlebars and cradled his face in his hands as the rest of his convoy pulled up and stopped behind him.
In the road ahead was another obstacle. Mulder had asked him just the night before when was the last time he had seen an airplane. At the time Daryl couldn't remember. But now he could say with complete certainty that he saw an airplane before him now. Although this one wouldn't be flying again any time soon. A small two-man aircraft rested in the road ahead. It sat upside down with its wings stretching diagonally across the pavement. The nearby trees looked scorched as though the plane may have started a small fire when it crashed. But the foliage was already recovering. Vines and branches from nearby shrubs stretched out over the wings and wound around the charred and crumpled body of the plane, spiraling up around the exposed landing gear and wing supports.
The windows into the cockpit were obscured with dirt and plant growth, but Daryl was willing to bet there was at least one walker inside. The best hope for the pilot and any potential passenger was that they brained themselves on impact and didn't turn. But in Daryl's experience very few people got the best they could hope for these days.
Daryl pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to rub away the sight of it, the frustration he felt, the impossibility of it all. It didn't work. The frustration remained, leaving a smoldering feeling in his gut. He could hear the rest of the crew gathering behind him to see the obstruction for themselves. He heard the now too familiar sound of Mulder unfolding his map. The rustling of the paper made him want to rip it in half. Instead he swallowed the feeling of defeat and dismounted his motorcycle, wheeling around to join his team in the next decision to be made.
Mulder spread the map on the hood of Rick's car, leaning in close and tracing their current route backwards with his finger. "A few miles back we passed what looked like some sort of fire road. It's not on the map, but it might connect back to this road somewhere up ahead." He still sounded so optimistic. Nothing in this world could discourage him from getting to his spaceship.
Rick stood next to Mulder as if to look at the map with him, but his head was craned around toward the plane wreck. He couldn't take his eyes away from it, as if staring at it with contempt would make the vessel disappear. In response to Mulder's suggestion he muttered, "Yeah, maybe."
Abraham slammed the door of the Winnebago and abruptly barked, "No!" He caught everyone's attention. "No, we're not turning around. First of all, I can't three-point turn this beast around on this backwoods road and I'm sure as hell not driving it in reverse for a couple miles." He slapped the RV. "Second, I don't know how your gas gauge is looking, but mine's not looking too hot. Besides that, I know no one wants to talk about it, but you've got to figure that douche waffle will be coming after us by now. How many times can we turn around before he catches up?"
Rick looked around at his people gathering in the road. He knew Abraham was expressing what they were all feeling. They were on the simplest step of this mission. All they were doing was driving. They weren't looking for an alien spacecraft yet or trying to navigate to a planet in a distant galaxy. All they were doing was trying to reach an earthly destination that was only a couple hundred miles from their starting point. Yet even this seemed to prove impossible. What chance did they stand of ever reaching their goal? But they couldn't give up now. They had to do something. But what?
"Got any ideas?" Rick asked Abraham.
"We move it," Abraham replied.
Rick's eyes shot back to the destroyed aircraft. "You want to move the plane?"
Abraham walked right up to the airplane, getting a good look at the size of it. "It's not much bigger than a car. There's a couple dozen of us. All we have to do is get it far enough over that embankment that gravity does the rest."
Rick walked up to stand beside him, both men assessing the task at hand. Rick stepped toward the right edge of the road, looking down the slope on that side. Then he turned to face Abraham again. "Let's do this."
Rick rallied his troops and Michonne went to work first, slicing her sword through the binding roots and vines with ease. Next up Rick, Abraham, and Daryl dug out as much dirt as the could from under the downhill side of the plane, trying to reduce the friction and resistance. Down on their hands and knees with dirt working its way under their fingernails and sweat beading up in the humid Virginia air, it felt good to be doing something. So much of their plan was left up to chance. This was one small part where they could take back some control.
With the plane's path cleared as much as possible, Alexandria's biggest and brawniest gathered around the uphill side of the plane and readied themselves for a workout. Rick looked at the dozen or so friends surrounding him, all lined up to make this seemingly impossible task seem possible. Abraham was right. The plane wasn't much larger than a car. They were a team. They were strong together. They could do this.
Rick put both palms on the hull of the aircraft and waited for his friends to do the same. "Ready?" he asked. He was met with nods from his line up. "Together, on three. One, two, three."
Everyone dug in their heels and pushed with all their might. It moved. Not a lot, but it definitely moved. A few more Alexandrians stepped up and found a small piece of real estate to place their hands on the plane. Rick knew they needed this. They all needed this to work. They needed this small win.
"Again, one, two, three." Again they pushed, grunting and sweating. It moved a little more this time. Even more members of the team stepped up. If they couldn't find a spot to get a hand on the plane, they stood behind their friends to brace their feet, giving them something to push off of. Rick grinned to see his community coming together like this, supporting one another, working together. Nearly every man woman and child was now bracing for one more push.
"Let's go! One, two, three!" They heaved and pushed and sweated and pushed some more. And suddenly they didn't have to push so hard. And then they didn't have to push at all.
The plane let out a loud protest of creaks as it found the point of no return and began tilting downhill. It slid and tipped, crashing through shrubs and underbrush as it went. And then all at once it was silent. The vessel came to rest with its body off the road. One wing stuck up in the air at a 45 degree angle, partially hanging over the pavement. But it was enough. They would be able to pass through.
Even in their state of overexertion, Rick's team of warriors let out an elated cheer. They had done it. Now they would be able to move forward. The cheers died down until all that could be heard was the sound of the crew catching their breath.
That and the sound of a slow, delayed clap.
Rick turned and found a stranger among his people. While he stood surrounded by his teammates, a man had approached and stood near their line of vehicles, just a few paces from Maggie who had stayed near the car where her baby slept.
The lone man stood, applauding their efforts. He seemed so shockingly out of place that it took the team a moment to realize he didn't belong there. But when they did, guns were drawn. As Rick looked down his sights at the man, he thought he recognized him as a member of Dwight's posse. As if his own exposure and vulnerability suddenly dawned on him, the man jumped behind Maggie, wrapping an arm around her torso and pinning her arms to her side. With his other hand he withdrew a gun and held it to her head.
Glenn cried out, "Maggie!" But he stopped in his tracks as he saw Maggie give a barely perceptible shake of her head, fire raging behind her eyes. His heart pounded in his chest, but he trusted her instincts. He had to think. He had to be smart.
The Savior spoke. "I'd be careful with that gun if I were you, Chief." His mocking tone seemed out of place for someone so heavily outnumbered.
"Put the weapon down." Rick's voice was calm and measured. "Are you with him?"
The man replied, " We're all with him. Even you. You just don't know it yet."
Rick shook his head, arm still extended with his pistol, unflinching. "No. We'll never be with him."
"We'll see about that." The man glanced into the car as baby William made a tiny sound in his sleep. "Listen, no one has to get hurt here. I'm just meant to detain you until he arrives. He reckons you owe him some of your people. He's real anxious to meet you."
"He won't be taking any of my people." Rick found himself in this position again, waiting for a clear shot while a member of his family was threatened by one of Negan's thugs. But he would not let his fury betray him. He kept his voice even.
"Negan's a fair man. He doesn't need to take any of your fighters. He'd settle for women and children." The man let out a soft chuckle. "Maybe even babies."
That was enough for Maggie. Her life had been threatened many times over, but now she was a mother. No one was going to threaten her child. She kicked one foot back hard and fast, catching the man in the groin. As he curled over and clutched himself she took the opportunity to grab his hand holding the gun. She gripped him around the wrist and yanked up and out while bending forward and pitching her hips upward, causing the main to flip over her shoulder and land hard on his back. It knocked the wind out of him. As he hit the ground Maggie grabbed his gun and fired twice in quick succession, once into each of his hands. She then placed the sole of her boot on his neck and leaned down to push the revolver squarely into his forehead. She didn't fire a third time. Instead she looked to Rick, who had rushed forward with Glenn and Michonne to make sure the intruder didn't move a muscle.
She asked Rick, "Anything you want to ask him before I kill him?"
"Why do you have to kill him?" It was Morgan, once again stepping forward from the back of the pack to argue against the death of another human being, no matter how vile.
Maggie growled at him. "Because he threatened my son."
Rick intervened. "Morgan, this man is a scout. If we let him go he's going to run off and tell Negan exactly where we are and which way we're heading."
The bleeding man sputtered out a small laugh and said, "He already knows." Rick pointed his gun back at the grounded Savior. "He already knows where you're going. All I'm supposed to do is stall you." He laughed again. Rick leaned in close and Maggie removed her boot as he pointed his gun right under the man's chin. He stopped laughing.
"What's your angle? You think if you tell me he knows where we're going I'll spare you? Or are you taunting me?"
The man let out an amused snicker. "Mister Grimes, your reputation precedes you. We both know you're not going to spare me. But I am curious." He lifted his head ever so slightly so he could look Rick in the eye. "What the hell is in Roxobel, anyway?"
Without a second of hesitation Rick fired his pistol, not up through the man's skull but directly into his throat. Thick, dark blood poured out of him and he gasped for breath as he clutched his ruined esophagus with his wounded hands. Rick took a step away and fired two more rounds into the man's chest and he went limp.
Rick turned to face his people. He knew they probably needed some sort of inspiring speech, some sentiment to keep them plugging forward. But he just didn't have it in him. And they were out of time.
"Let's go. We need to keep moving."
Solemnly everyone filed back into their vehicles, a silence hanging over them that no one dared to break. One by one each of the engines in the convoy roared to life. Daryl, sitting astride his motorcycle, looked over his shoulder to see that everyone was ready to carry on. He fired up his bike and kicked it into gear, rolling out past the plane wreckage and continuing on their journey.
A short while later Negan and his army arrived at the same spot in the road. As their trucks and cars rolled to a stop Negan stepped out of the lead vehicle. He examined the plane, the marks it had left on the pavement, the wing hanging precariously overhead. He walked back several yards and squatted down to examined the blood on the concrete. It was clearly fresh. It still had that coppery smell.
Negan stood, some movement in the road just around the bend catching his eye. It was a roamer. He could just see its silhouette as it approached from the road ahead. He stood his ground and allowed it to advance on him. It's shoulders hung to one side as it took slow, jarring steps toward him. As it rounded the bend and was no longer backlit, Negan could see that this wasn't just any roamer. It was one of his scouts.
As it came near, the leader of the Saviors extended Lucille, pressing the end of the bat into the chest of the oncoming corpse, impeding its progress. He examined the bullet wounds. Rick Grimes was a smart man. He knew he had to put a bullet in this guy's head if he didn't want him to turn. So either he wanted to leave another calling card behind or this scout pissed him off enough that he wanted to let him turn. Either way he was dead.
Negan spoke, more to himself than to the men who gathered around him. "Five people. He owes me five people now." He pushed the beast away from him with enough force that it staggered back a few steps. As it regained its footing and lunged forward again Negan violently swung his bat, catching the former Savior on the side of the skull. The impact was enough to end him. Permanently.
A smile spread across Negan's face. "I'll be collecting my five people. With interest."