Chapter 21: Red Sky at Morning, Part V
Negan was incensed. Irate. Furious. Whatever word meant so fucking pissed off that he was ready to swing Lucille at the next motherfucker to breathe in his direction – that's where his emotions were.
But he couldn't afford to show it. Which only pissed him off more. Fuckers think they're going to burn down what's mine and take over the ashes, they've got another thing coming. Negan might not know who all the players are – yet – but he understood the game. Any reaction on his part would be twisted into an overreaction, designed to make him appear out of control and unfit to be the Saviors' leader. So he'd play it cool, for now. But the sooner he put the kibosh on this whole Julius-Caesar-backstabbing bullshit, the better.
Wishing he had his old coach's whistle, Negan put two fingers to his lips and let out the loudest shrill sound he could manage. It did the trick – silence quickly fell over the crowd. "Everybody get your families together and group up by floors." He quickly gestured to separate sections of the common area. "Neighborhood watch for each hallway, take a head-count. Everyone else, as soon as your unit's been counted, take a knee. You lot," he turned to his trusted Saviors. "Take whoever would know what to look for and clear the school. Sooner we can get the kids back in, the calmer things'll get. And get a goddamn radio down to the engineering crew so we can find out what the damage is. If we're going to have to relocate, I want to know in the next hour."
As people scurried to follow orders, Negan took a moment to survey around, noting the Saviors he thought might potentially be turning against him. None of them seemed to be grouping up or spreading out with any kind of strategy. This isn't the big take-down, they've got more in store, but not for now. If anything, they seemed, like most everyone, to be focused on the medical operation taking place out in the open air as Dr. Carson, Beth, and a handful of nurses and others with varied degrees of medical expertise frantically worked to stabilize the injured.
The assisted living area was a smart target, Negan privately mused. High in the sympathy factor – everyone with half a heart would be clamoring for the heads of anyone who attacked defenseless old people and the ones who took care of them. But in terms of usefulness, the Sanctuary could afford to lose any or all of that room's occupants without sacrificing a lot in terms of productivity. If anything, it meant no longer wasting food or other resources on people who couldn't give back. Strategically, it was the ideal place for a bomb to literally give the most bang for its buck. Assuming one was a sadistic bastard who didn't mind knocking off a few little old ladies to get what you want. If the tactic weren't currently being used to undermine his authority, Negan could almost appreciate the practicality of it all. And if Lassiter hadn't been caught making such a damn fuss earlier, they could've pulled this whole thing off and blame it, at least indirectly, on Alexandria. Speaking of…
"Where's Lassiter?" Negan growled, adjusting his grip on Lucille and bringing her to bear. "That balding bastard better have some goddamned answers for me."
After a moment of slightly frenzied searching on the part of several Saviors, Fat Joseph timidly offered, "Maybe he's still in the cell? Did anyone think to let him out?"
"Aye, someone did," Connor McManus called out, a stormy expression on both his and his brothers' faces as they emerged from the factory. He dropped the cell key in Negan's outstretched hand. "The door was open, key still in the lock. But no sign of him."
Negan glanced absently behind him to where the child was still leaning half-against the wall and half-against Aaron, cradling his broken arm. Yet another thing he needed to deal with.
"Anybody see where Craig Lassiter went?" he called out over the crowd's murmuring.
Out of the corner of his eye, Negan saw Charlie Preston begin to step forward before stopping himself abruptly and then easing back to a seemingly casual stance near his bee boxes. With a quick glance, Negan tracked the old man's eye line to, of all people, Beth, who seemed to be communicating something meaningful without words before her eyes darted to Negan's and then back to the patient she was bandaging.
Murphy posited, "In the chaos, he could've walked right out the front gate with no one thinking twice about it. It's not as though he didn't know it was comin'."
"Clever fucker," Negan nodded. "Alright, check the garage, make sure all the vehicles are accounted for." He turned his attention back to the bulk of the Sanctuary's citizens, most of whom were waiting on their knees, children included. Negan gestured for those still standing to drop down as well and gave a lingering look at his wives who were grouped together near the medical greenhouse, assuring himself that everyone he gave a shit about was accounted for.
"First things first, we're checking the school, and as soon as we're sure it's safe, we'll get everyone back in class. Until we deal with this, no one leaves the Sanctuary without my say-so. Teachers who were planning to lead groups outside the fences today, take a minute and sort out new schedules with the ones using the upper-level classrooms. Combine classes or whatever. Those on watch who normally have rooftop spots, you're still on, but stay on ground level and spread yourselves out. Until the engineering crew gives us the okay to go back inside, no one sets foot in any of the buildings. As we clear the greenhouses, garage, barn, etc., folks who had afternoon shifts in those places can get back to work. Everyone else, no sense in wasting a bright sunshiny day. I seem to recall a growing need for our fields to be tended to. Weeds to pull, bugs to kill… so let's get to it. Jobs crew, split everyone up into sections for each crop, get a security detail set up on the perimeter. Today, people!" he added when it was evident that everyone was still frozen in place.
"Simon," Negan gestured for the man to join him. "Take half your crew and four trucks, one in each direction. I want Lassiter found. I want him alive, on his fucking knees in front of me, and I want him right fucking now. Simon," he grabbed the man's arm and held eye contact as he brought his barbed bat less than an inch from the man's cheek, "Someone's lips are going to be kissing Lucille tonight." He let the implied, if you don't bring me Lassiter, it's going to be you hang in the air as he turned away, swinging Lucille with an audible woosh. It was the closest he was willing to come to alerting Simon of his suspicions.
With most of the pressing logistics taken care of, Negan turned to the haphazard MASH unit his medical team had assembled in the yard. "Call me crazy but wouldn't your patients be better off indoors and with a little privacy? Move everyone into the Crypt, we'll run some extension cords out there to get you better lighting. At least there you can keep the dust and gravel out of their wounds. You two," he turned to the McManus brothers, "Grab some guys to help move all this shit over, keep an eye on things." The brothers nodded, and Negan knew they understood to put a security watch in place. With the Crypt having only one entrance, it would be easier to protect in case the day's morbid festivities weren't quite done with.
Negan dropped to a crouch near the boy who'd been at the center of today's excitement, "Hey kid, we meet again," he grinned. But the boy was too hurt and shocked to respond. Negan turned his gaze instead to Aaron, "At some point, you and I are going to need to chat about what went down in there," he tipped his head towards the busted window, "But until then, let's get the two of you over to the Crypt and get you patched up." He hoped Aaron got the unstated message that he and the boy should stay together. From the way Aaron kept his arms lightly wrapped around the injured child, Negan felt he'd gotten his point across. And that just leaves…
"Daryl," He finally turned his attention to the man still on his hands and knees, surrounded by gravel and shards of broken glass with Negan's own jacket draped over his shoulders. Negan briefly debated within himself whether to indulge a moment of personal curiosity about the scars that he'd seen but figured there would be time enough for that after he'd dealt with the mess someone had made of his Sanctuary. "That's a hell of a job you did just now, seems worth rewarding. Take the afternoon, go curl up in a corner somewhere out of the way where you won't make a nuisance of yourself. Something you need there, Doc?" he didn't bother turning around to address Beth, who'd quietly stepped up beside him.
"You could put Daryl near the Crypt, seeing as how you've got a watch setting up there already," she suggested.
Negan grinned as he thrust Lucille towards Beth so she could hold it while he picked up Daryl's discarded sweatshirt from the open window and shook out most of the glass before dropping it in a heap next to Daryl's hands. He casually scooped up his leather jacket and slid it back onto his own frame while Daryl scrambled to pull his own ragged garment back on, but Negan could still see the flush of embarrassment on the other man's cheeks even though he never lifted his gaze from the ground.
"And what, my darling Doc, are we going to do about you?" Negan brushed the back of his gloved fingers over the scar on Beth's cheek.
"I reckon you'll do whatever you think you gotta do," was Beth's quiet, but still slightly fiery, response. "I got folks to look after, so I guess you know where to find me whenever you make up your mind."
When he saw Beth circle around the side of the Crypt, Daryl figured it was his best chance both to return her knife and have a quick word without anyone noticing. He assumed, at least, that was her intent in suggesting he be kept close by there, and he wasn't about to let the opportunity pass.
Even hurting and tired as he was, quick reflexes kicked in to bring himself short before he nearly slammed into her. Hastily she accepted her blade and shoved a full canteen and a generous slice of rye bread into his hands.
"Can you track him?" She asked, her voice hushed but with a sense of urgency.
"What?"
"If you knew which way Lassiter went and could get outside the fences, could you track him?"
Daryl gnawed off a large chunk of bread and choked it down with a swig of water. "Yeah, probably, but it ain't what we ought to be doing. Need to be gettin' you outta here 'fore Negan decides to make good on those threats from earlier."
Beth rolled her eyes, "He ain't taking that iron to my face. He can act like he's toying with the idea to get you riled up all he likes, but he ain't gonna actually do it." After a quick glance around, she grabbed his sleeve and tugged him around the side of the factory's main building.
Daryl frowned as he pulled up alongside her, "I know you got a lot of faith in him, but I don't. Shit's going sideways and he ain't the type to put others before himself. Beth – " He stopped short and forced her to meet his eyes, "It's gonna get bloodier than it already is and I ain't sittin' by and watchin' you get hurt or worse when I said I's gonna protect ya. You gotta go, hide at the Lykins' farm where you'll be safe until this shit's over and done with, and you've gotta go now and that's that."
"You think I don't know they're gunnin' for me now?" Beth's face was drawn and more than a hint of fear in her eyes, but she pressed on, "But the fact of it is I got no way to get to the school without bein' noticed, and I ain't leaving without my kids. So we're gonna have to figure this out some other way. Sending Simon after that man is just another one of Negan's stupid tests. If Simon's loyal, no reason not to bring him back alive. If he ain't – "
"Then he's gotta make sure the bastard gets away so Negan can't beat the truth out of him," Daryl followed her line of logic, and then carried it further as they started walking again to wherever it was Beth was leading them, "But if he does get away, Negan's gonna need someone to blame for all this, and you're the next easiest target as the one who supposedly let those people in. Which means we still need to be thinkin' about how to get you and the kids outta here."
"Or, the sooner you get out of the fence and the faster you can track him and get him back here, none of that'll matter." Beth stopped their progress around the side of the smallest of the three food-growing greenhouses, right next to the wood boxes that housed the beehives old Charlie Preston tended. As if on cue, the man himself ambled up to them with a frown deepening the wrinkles on his face.
"The one they're lookin' for walked himself right out the gate not even two minutes after the ground shook, cut 'cross the barley field headin' north, north-west into those woods there. Why didn't you want me telling Negan?" he queried, a skeptical, but not entirely hostile, glare fixed on Daryl as he spoke.
"Not about Negan," Beth offered. "But maybe some other folks made it happen. Same ones we been talkin' about."
Charlie seemed to understand her vague response, because he nodded knowingly. "What's in yer head, there, Doc?"
"Ya really think a bunch of city folk're gonna be able to track him down?" she smirked.
Charlie snorted, "Ain't that the goddamned truth. Not a lick of sense, the lot of 'em. Not useful sense anyhow. Best be leavin' the real work in this world for the rednecks and country girls," he grinned.
"Ya mind…" Beth trailed off, eyebrows raised and a sugary-sweet smile on her face.
The old man rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah… ain't like I got anything better to do."
Daryl didn't understand much of the subtext behind their conversation, and Beth didn't give him time to ask, either. "The opening's small and won't last long, but it should be enough." She gave two sharp raps on the beehive box closest to her with the hilt of her knife and then took a quick step back, pulling Daryl with her.
Three things happened at once. The honeybees, angered by the disturbance to their hive, flew out in a frenzied swarm. Their buzzing not only alerted the bees in the other boxes to do the same, they drew the attention of the nearby fence walkers, who stirred and began reaching for the cloud of noisy insects, straining at the poles and chains that kept them in place. And Charlie launched himself around the corner towards the center of the main courtyard in what seemed like just another of his less-than-lucid rants.
Beth nudged Daryl's arm and nodded towards the fence. She was right, the opening was small. But when all the walkers mindlessly reached for the bees, there was a gap, not quite a straight shot, but close, and just wide enough that a person could slip through without being grabbed by the dead.
"Go now," she urged. "Before the walkers get bored and before folks start coming around to work this field."
Daryl pushed the canteen back into her hands after a final drink. He needed to move quickly, and anything in his hands would just get in the way. "I ain't back by sunset, you take the kids and go."
She nodded and quickly turned to the walkers to the left of where Daryl was now hauling himself over the fence, drawing their attention and widening the narrow space where he could pass through the Sanctuary's living moat. As soon as he was free of the last layer of the dead, he broke into a sprint, knowing Charlie would only draw people's attention for so long before they turned back to their watch positions, and he needed to cross the tree line before that happened.
Once he was far enough into the woods to be sure he wouldn't be seen, Daryl paused and rested his weight against a tree. He hadn't run in a month, his ribs were aching from the blows he'd taken earlier (was that really just an hour or two ago?), and he needed to focus and save his strength. Judging by the sun, he had at most six hours of daylight left. Not that he'd be giving up and going back empty-handed, but tracking in the dark was nearly impossible, and this was one trail he couldn't afford to muck up. Even if he trusted that Beth would both keep her word and be resourceful enough to get herself and her children away from the Saviors, Daryl knew that, if he didn't return before dark and she was forced to go to ground at Caiman and Nicole's farm, Negan would have no problem leading a team of angry Saviors to Alexandria both to reassert control and punish him and Beth in the process.
Thankfully, whatever things Craig Lassiter had been in his past life, a woodsman wasn't one of them. Broken branches, trampled undergrowth, he couldn't have been easier to track if he'd set off fireworks. Finding his trail and catching up with the man were two different things, of course, and Daryl hadn't yet given any thought as to how he'd restrain the man and force him back to the Sanctuary, or how they'd get back in once they got there, or what he'd do if Lassiter had already met up with friends. And Daryl didn't doubt that the man was heading to a place where he felt safe. It was in his boot prints – heavy and clumsy, but no skidding. Lassiter wasn't running as if being chased, and he wasn't wandering aimlessly, either. He might not be the most comfortable in the forest, but he knew which way he was headed and he was confident enough not to rush. That his prey was moving at a measured pace worked in Daryl's favor; that he was likely meeting up with whoever he was working with did not. Simon – and, like Beth, Daryl was happy to assume it was Simon behind all these mind-games until proved otherwise – may have trouble with Negan if he brought Lassiter's corpse back to the Sanctuary, but Daryl's dead body wouldn't be a problem for him at all.
Just gonna have to take your own advice, he thought to himself as he picked up his pace. Like you told Tim, take what looks like a weakness and turn it into a strength. Easier said and done when dealing with walkers, who had only one basic need and were predictable in how they went about getting it.
But the living weren't all that different when it came down to the bare bones of it, Daryl mused, noting a slight turn in his quarry's trail. A quick assessment of his senses told him why – the sound of running water off to the right, the trail was now running parallel to an unseen stream. He put a little more energy into his pace as he thought it through. Negan needed power and control and people to fall at his feet. Especially women. Beth didn't necessarily fawn over him like the rest, though; she liked people including Negan, but didn't necessarily trust easily. And Negan needed Beth because she helped him keep control. To keep Beth, Negan got Daryl, and used both a carrot and stick to keep him in line. Negan both bullied and charmed to get what he needed. Simple and predictable. What does Simon need? And how's he gonna go about getting it?
It was a question for another time, because Daryl heard the quiet of the woods that signaled the local wildlife was disturbed, and not by him. He moved easily enough through even unfamiliar trees that he didn't distress the animals. Lassiter was close, crashing recklessly through the forest. And from the thinning of the trees and the increased light coming through, so was a clearing. Or a road. He needed to close in quickly and get this done before Lassiter broke through the tree line. Part of him wished he'd kept Beth's knife but thought better of it. He needed the man alive, and the weapon might prove too tempting. But all that man's damned noise was bound to draw a stray walker or two if it hadn't already, and the situation was complicated enough.
He could see the back of him now and made sure to stay in the man's blind spot as he closed the last few feet. Daryl knew his strengths – no fancy kicks like Jesus or cop training chokeholds like Rick – a quick burst of speed and Daryl body-checked Lassiter into a tree and then tackled him to the ground with a grunt.
The man struggled beneath him, but Daryl got a knee into Lassiter's back and leaned his weight into it, effectively pinning the man to the ground and leaving his hands free to toss the other man's gun and knife safely out of reach. "Where ya think you're going, huh? Got yourself a nice ride waitin' up ahead?"
"You should have stayed out of it!" Lassiter squirmed uselessly under Daryl's weight. "Wasn't none of your fucking business, and now you've gone and fucked yourself over, haven't you?"
"Y'all made it my fucking business," Daryl growled, "And I think you got that fucked over part backwards. So which was it, huh? Got someone comin' to pick you up? Or were you gonna hoof it all the way?"
"All the way where?" he smirked, "You don't even know what you've gotten yourself into, you dumbass hillbilly."
Daryl gripped the back of Lassiter's head and ground his face into the dirt, "I dunno, this dumbass hillbilly's got a pretty good sense of direction. One or two outposts this way maybe, but I'm thinkin' it's a near straight shot to Hilltop, and the Saviors' regular run would've had them going there today anyhow. So this dumbass hillbilly's thinkin' that, if I hadn't gone and fucked up your plans, your wife would've still set off that bomb but you'd've been in a truck headed off into the sunset at Hilltop with no one the wiser."
Even with his face half-smothered in a mix of dead leaves and soft earth, Daryl could hear Lassiter chuckle darkly. "Wife?" Daryl gave him just enough leeway to turn his head to the side. Spit mixed with dirt on his lips as he snorted, "Like I'd actually be hooked up with that dumb bitch. I'll give her this much, she knew her C4's from her TNT's, growing up playing around at her Daddy's construction sites. You got any fucking idea how hard it was to find someone who actually knew what to do with that shit other than stick a long fuse in and hope not to blow their hands off in the process?"
"Yeah, his name was Eugene. Got his head bashed to bits 'bout a month ago," Daryl retorted.
But Lassiter kept on as if Daryl hadn't interrupted, "And then get her and her little bag of tricks inside Negan's home base with legitimate access to where we'd need her and still keep her in line?"
The last bit confused Daryl. "Ain't like you gotta have some special pass to visit old folks on their deathbeds."
"Aww, is the dumb redneck all confused? Did he think those old farts were the only ones we want to be rid of?" He laughed softly, "Not that it matters now. Bitch went and took herself out before we could get her where we really wanted her. Guess we're all out of bomb-makers now. Could be worse. Hell, it is for you. Your dumb ass is out of time." Lassiter grinned and sucked in a deep breath, and Daryl nearly lost his balance getting his free hand around the other man's throat to choke off his shouts. Daryl had heard the low rumble of the truck's engine and the soft squeal and hiss of its brakes, but he'd hoped that Lassiter had been too wrapped up in his gloating to notice.
But now the man was struggling in earnest, both for air and the attention of whoever had pulled up to meet him, and Daryl had a choice to make. He looked around him, as if the woods somehow held the answer to all his problems. Eyes landing on Lassiter's discarded weapons, he made up his mind. This might be the dumbest decision you've ever made, he thought as he hauled Lassiter to his feet, fingers closing around the knife hilt and slipping the weapon up his sleeve. His memory flashed back to the feel of the funeral home's doorknob turning in his grip. Alright, the second dumbest.
"What the hell are you doing?" Lassiter exclaimed as Daryl pulled him with tight grips on his neck and waistband directly towards the sound of the idling truck. "Have you lost your damned mind?"
"Jury's out," Daryl quipped, thoughts flying as he scrambled together what to say when he broke through the trees that would not only keep him alive but put him at an advantage.
It wasn't Simon, but Daryl definitely recognized the men in the truck as ones who regularly accompanied him on runs to Hilltop. Doesn't rule him out. Negan said to take four trucks and go different directions.
"Got him!" Daryl called out confidently, as if he'd been expecting and was glad to see the group gathered around the vehicle. Some, he observed, were still standing or crouched in the back of the open-air cargo space. All of them were armed.
"You dumb shit," Lassiter started, "They know! They're the ones – "Daryl quickly jerked the fistful of shirt he had twisted in his grip back so the front collar choked Lassiter's words.
"Negan sent me to track him, thought y'all might have trouble spotting him from the road," Daryl offered in explanation when they reached the crew of Saviors.
"Did he?" one of the men smiled grimly before pulling the walkie-talkie from his belt clip. "Maybe we just confirm that with the big boss."
"Maybe ya don't," Daryl returned. "'Cause y'all ain't Negan." Predictably, everyone in and around the truck stiffened and had their hands on their guns. "Which is good. I ain't Negan, either." Daryl went for broke. "I want in."
The man with the radio, whose name Daryl didn't know, stepped into Daryl's personal space. "I don't know what you think you're – "
"Save it," Daryl cut him off. "This dumbass spilled the whole goddamned thing to me out in the woods without even thinkin' to ask whose side I's on." The embarrassed flush rising in Lassiter's face was the edge Daryl needed. The crew didn't move away but most noticeably relaxed their grips and trigger fingers.
"Say he did," the man who seemed to be the leader conceded. "Why should we let you in?"
"You need me." Daryl did his best to stare the man into believing him. He was no salesman or politician. If Merle were here, he'd be in his element, weaving witty one-liners in a complicated verbal web that both confused and ensnared his prey. You gonna let a little thing like that stop you, little brother? The hell'd I let you tag along all those years for if you ain't gonna learn nothin'? His dead brother's voice growled in Daryl's head, egging him on much like it had when he'd fallen down the cliff looking for Sophia. And just like then, he had a girl's safety riding on his ability to suck it up and do what needed doing but now, no offense to Sophia's memory, he cared a hell of a lot more about Beth than he ever had the little girl he barely knew. So he jutted his chin out the slightest bit and forced himself not to swallow, knowing the movement down his Adam's apple would be taken for weakness.
"And just what do we need you for?"
"To kill Negan. And take the blame for it." Because that was the answer to the million-dollar question. Simon (or whoever) wanted what Negan had, the power and control, but he didn't have Negan's charm to bring people to him. Not without a push. So he needed Negan gone but couldn't be the one to do it. "Maybe you'd hoped folks still at Alexandria would get pissed off enough to take him out for you, or that you'd get that woman into Negan's bed so she could set off whatever's left of Eugene's firebombs. But Alexandria ain't fightin' back and the woman's gone and blown herself up rather than play ball with you."
Lassiter jerked free of Daryl's grip, "Hey, I never said she – "
"Yeah, ya did. Said she needed access. Only one place in that whole goddamned compound that no one else goes is where Negan lives. Only ones allowed in are his kids and his wives. 's why you needed her. Maybe she'd let on that you were beatin' her and her kid, but probably not. Long as you made enough of a show of splitting up. Negan's got thing for readin' people. Her sidling up to him actually feeling scared and lost and lookin' for someone to take care of her – he'd swallow that shit down with a goddamned smile on his face. Only a woman, one of his women, could get in there without anyone noticing." Daryl turned back to the truck's crew. "But that's off the table now. So you need another way. And yeah, you could maybe lure him out somewhere, say it was walkers, or an accident, or some group like Alexandria or Hilltop. But there'd always be someone who'd question it, always someone not happy with how y'all want to run the Saviors. You need an enemy. A reason that folks gotta fight and that the ones fightin' deserve more than the ones they gotta protect. Like I said, you need me."
"And you'd kill Negan, just like that? Why? What's in it for you?"
"I don't care who wins." Daryl knew he wasn't the greatest liar – again, that prize belonged to the older Dixon brother. But then, this wasn't all that far from the truth, either. "I don't care who's in charge. All I care about is protecting what's mine."
"What, we give you all of Alexandria Safe Zone? No fucking way."
"Didn't say that," Daryl shook his head. "Ain't talking about the whole damn group, just me and mine. Me, Beth, the kids, Aaron, Maggie. A handful of folks still at Alexandria. The rest, take 'em or leave 'em. You guarantee that when it's done, I can take what's mine and go."
"Go where?"
"Does it matter?" Daryl countered. "Not here. Not anywhere that's Negan." He paused for a brief moment and then risked pushing, "I know you ain't the one to make this call. But you can't be taking too long clearin' it, either. Negan already knows somethin's up."
"How you figure that? We can write today's mess off as its own thing, just a crazy lady at her breaking point, whatever."
Daryl could see that most were getting on board and decided to go for one final push. "Negan showed me Briar's Creek, what's left of it, anyhow." He knew he'd hit his mark when several of them couldn't help their faces showing surprise. And recognition. "Negan thought dropping Beth's name in my ear would be enough to get me to roll over. And ever since it didn't work, he's been tryin' to find new ways to butter me up. He found those women, the ones who made it out of there. They got real long memories and damn good descriptions." The group was visibly frustrated, heads shaking and muttered whispers of "Shit!" and "Fucking bitches!" making Daryl want to smirk but he held a straight face to close his argument, "How long you think he's gonna sit on that before decidin' to start swinging? And if it gets out, even if you kill Negan, nobody at that Sanctuary's gonna follow y'all."
"Alright, alright," the leader waved him off. "Shit. You're in, I'll talk with Simon tonight. How long has Negan known about Briar's Creek? And what does he know about Hilltop?"
That's it. They'd said Simon's name. Negan could kill that whole damned crew for all Daryl cared if it got him off Rick and everyone else's backs. Outwardly, he shrugged, "When he made me drive him to the Kingdom, we stopped off in a field on the way. He wanted to see if any of them recognized me, said he was makin' sure Alexandria weren't involved, too. Weren't no camp there, they come from some other place. After, Negan told me what happened. He ain't all the way there yet, but he's closin' in. As for Hilltop," Daryl decided to go for straight honesty, having too many missing pieces to create a reasonable false narrative, "Negan ain't said much. Only that he knows that what he tells Gregory ain't what Gregory tells the rest of his people. And he don't trust Simon to be reliable passin' on messages, either."
The leader nodded, "Might have to shut Gregory down before all's said and done, he'd flip sides too easily if Negan pushes him. Hell, if we knew where those women were holed up, we could shut them down too while we're at it, buy ourselves some more time."
One of the men still standing in the back of the truck bed interjected angrily, "We don't need more time, we need to get this done. Been dragging our asses for months now. We should just kill him and be done with it. Anyone who fights it, get rid of them too."
"Simon wants a minimum of lives lost, at least on our end." With several in the group nodding in agreement, the leader turned back to Daryl, who'd been using the time to carefully study faces and commit them to memory. "What do you think? What would you need and how long would it take for you to hold up your end?"
"Not today or tomorrow," Daryl considered, "Gotta put some distance on all this so things calm down. More shocked they are, more likely folks are gonna fall in line with whoever steps up and seems to have their shit together."
The leader agreed, "Not too long, though, can't have Negan getting his shit together. We'll work with Simon and the others, nail down a timeline and a plan. And he'll probably want to talk to you, sort out details. But you've got a more immediate problem."
"How's that?"
"Negan's expecting you to bring this asshole," he tipped his chin towards Lassiter, "back so he can spill his guts. And so Negan can enjoy himself really spilling his guts. You come back empty-handed, he's probably gonna burn your face off. Given how we left things, he's definitely going to take that iron of his to your pretty little wife."
Daryl shrugged, making a show of being nonchalant. "She's got an idea of how to get herself out of that mess. As for me, that ain't much of a problem. I ain't goin' back empty-handed – " Daryl gripped the knife hilt from where he'd used the shoulder roll to let it slide from inside his sleeve and quickly thrust it into Lassiter's throat. "- and he ain't gonna talk."
He pulled the blade out and quickly twisted the man away from the group so the arterial spray wouldn't splash their clothes too badly. He didn't have to look far to find a few straggling walkers emerging from the woods, drawn by the sound of their conversation. Right when ya need 'em. Deliberately turning his back on the stunned men at the truck, Daryl began half-marching, half-dragging Lassiter towards the dead before he bled out. He'd need a couple of bite marks on Lassiter's corpse to make things convincing.
"See?" he called back, "Problem solved."
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