The Wolf you Feed

Chapter 44

"We want the truth this time," Deanna stated, "the whole truth."

She wasn't sure exactly what in the hell was going on in Gregory's community. But when your own people try to stab you to death in broad daylight clearly they had something more than a simple disagreement happening. Deanna was past her limit of polite diplomacy with these people. She was furious. There was blood on her clothes. Several of her people had been hurt. Rick was pacing back and forth behind her, attempting to reign in his own anger. She had come to the Hilltop in a gesture of good faith. And these people had lied to her.

Jesus sighed. He looked at the small group of people in front of him. They didn't appear very intimidating at first glance. Only Rick, Daryl, and Abraham, the largest and most physically intimidating of the group, looked like they might hold their own in a fight. Like all survivors, Jesus had assumed even before he met them that the people of Alexandria were resourceful. But after the incident outside, Jesus had come to the realization that he had gravely underestimated them. These people were a force to be reckoned with. A small kernel of hope was forming in the pit of his stomach.

"There's another group," Jesus began, "they call themselves the Saviors."

When he mentioned the word Saviors, Jesus saw an immediate shift in the room. Rowan's head popped up. She was sitting on an ice pack trying to suture her dog's ear to stop the bleeding. The hand that was holding the bandage dropped into her lap and she turned away from the animal, giving Jesus her full attention. Deanna and Rick exchanged a pointed glance. But only Daryl spoke up and admitted that this was not the first time they had heard of the group.

"The Saviors," Daryl repeated, "we met 'em assholes on the road."

"What happened?," Jesus asked.

"We took 'em out," Daryl announced. His tone indicated he thought Jesus's question was more than just a little stupid. "What did ya think happened? I told ya they were assholes."

Jesus paused, talking a moment to absorb this new information. There were people that had fought the saviors and lived to tell the story. The tiny kernel of hope that was burning in his gut began to grow.

"Tell us what you know about the saviors," Deanna requested in an attempt to keep the conversation on topic. She had already heard what happened with the bikers Daryl was referring too and didn't care to hear the story again. Abraham had already told it about a hundred times to anyone in town that cared to listen. Deanna knew Rick believed those bikers had been part of a much larger group but she had hoped he was wrong.

Jesus watched the facial expressions of the small group in front of him as he told them about his community's interactions with the group that called themselves the saviors. People could lie with their words, but their body language and facial expressions always told the truth. When Jesus got to the part of his story that was the hardest to tell, the part where a young man had been brutally murdered by the saviors for good reason, Jesus watched to see what the reactions of these people would be.

Rowan reached for Daryl, grasping his leg. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to his body. Deanna wiped at the corners of her eyes. Hearing about a son killed in front of his mother made her visibly upset. Eugene and Olivia just looked more frightened than they already were after being part of the fight outside. Rick took a few steps forward, placing his hand softly on Deanna's back. Hearing about a boy his son's age being senselessly killed had made him visibly angry but his first impulse was still to offer comfort to a friend. Jesus now had the information he needed to proceed. These people still cared about the welfare of others besides themselves. They were not too far gone.

"I assume you told us all this for a reason?," Deanna asked. Jesus nodded. While Deanna waited for his response she glanced at Rick. The look on his face let her know that while she was waiting to hear what else Jesus had to say, Rick already knew the answer to her question.

TWD

Carl stopped to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He was hot and dizzy and knew he needed a break. His shirt had long since been discarded on the ground nearby but there was still sweat dripping down his back and into his eyes. But Carl refused to let himself stop digging. What happened to Denise was his fault. He brought those people back to town. He took Denise on that run. He left her behind and wasn't there to stop it when she was attacked. Digging her grave was his responsibility.

The sudden tap on his shoulder surprised him. Carl hadn't heard anyone coming. But other than turning his head to see who had approached him, the boy was too tired to react.

"Go sit down," Rowan's father told the boy. Carl accepted the large Mason jar full of cold water and allowed the man to take the shovel from his hand. Then he took a few steps back from the uneven hole he had been furiously digging at and sat down. He was too tired to argue and even if he wasn't, Grey Wolf had a certain air of authority. Even if the man was acting a little crazy, which wasn't unheard of, people didn't often argue with him.

The ice cold water tasted better in that moment than anything Carl had ever drunk in his life. After the first few gulps, he forced himself to sip it slowly. The condensation on the outside of the glass jar beaded up and dripped onto his scorching skin. There were a few slices of cucumber and a mint leaf floating around in the jar and suddenly Carl wished for a lemon. Back before the turn, his father had always worked long hours. And his mother had never been much of a cook. So they had eaten out a lot. Carl remembered his mother's laughter when he had grabbed the lemon off the rim of her glass of ice tea and taken a bite. They had cans of dry lemonade mix. But they weren't the same as a real fresh lemon. Just one more thing to add to the list of things that didn't exist anymore.

"Wasn't your fault."

The words snapped Carl out of his memories and back into the moment. Rowan's father had evened out the border of the hole and was now standing in what was to be Denise's grave, digging out the soft dirt to make it deeper. The people of Alexandria had learned the hard way if they didn't bury bodies deep enough that the dogs would try and dig them up. A large mound of dirt was forming next to the hole. It was depressing to think that they had dug so many graves that they were now efficient at it.

"Wasn't your fault," Grey Wolf repeated since his first statement had elicited no response from the boy. This time Carl sighed.

"Who's fault was it then?," Carl asked.

Grey Wolf tossed another mound of dirt on the pile next to him while he thought about Carl's question. In his opinion, people who weren't trained to fight shouldn't be leaving the walls. So it had been Denise's fault. But he also believed everyone in town should be trained to fight. Which Deanna refused to make mandatory. So it had been partly her fault. And that man they let into town had actually attacked Denise. So it was definitely that asshole's fault.

"Don't know who's fault it was," Rowan's father finally replied, "I'm just sick of digging graves."

Carl took another sip of his water and nodded his head. That was one thing he thought they could all agree on. They were all sick and tired of losing people.