Chapter

11:15 AM
Fun Kingdom

Daryl had just finished distributing bottles of juice to all of the quarantined patients and was feeling a bit wiped out from the effort as he sunk into a theater chair at the edge of an aisle and opened his own bottle. His fever was gone, and he wasn't coughing much, but doing the slightest bit of work still made him feel utterly exhausted. His whole body seemed drenched in a dull, inexplicable ache.

Bob was going around taking temperatures and giving out Tylenol to those who were due for another dose, looking like he might keel over from the simple effort of cleaning the thermometer between each reading. Hershel was doing only a little better. Milton and Andrea were lying on their sides on an unzipped sleeping bag on the stage, sweating feverishly, Milton's arm slung around her.

The residents of the theater had been gloomy for the last hour, ever since the first-born child of the apocalypse, baby Eve, had died right before their eyes. She didn't even make it to the infirmary. Her fever had seemed mild, and her cough only intermittent, but then she'd gone to sleep. Her breathing slowed and slowed, and she never woke again. It was heartbreaking, that the first life to claw its way to existence in the darkness of this world had already been snuffed out. But through the sniffles and mourning in the theater there hovered also an unspoken truth – that maybe it was for the best that the orphan child, whose mother Eileen had already been taken by the virus, and whose father had been taken by the battle with the Saviors, should have been spared the struggle of growing up in this harsh world.

Daryl could only hope things were turning a corner. About half the people in this room were now fever-free, and they had gone from persistent hacking to a more intermittent coughing – a staccato burst here and there. Luke was the one Daryl was worried about most. He'd settled his head on Dixon's lap on the stage an hour ago and hadn't moved except to cough. He wasn't drinking except what Dixon forced him to, and even that he seemed to dribble up. But he hadn't been sent down yet. That was Daryl's one consolation. Because most of the people who got sent down to the infirmary ended up sent up in smoke to the sky. Carl was still hanging on though, as were Patrick and Duane. Tom's condition, rumor had it, had accelerated rapidly, however. And two other Woodbury residents had died in the last two hours. Rick and Morgan were in the infirmary, but that was more because they wanted to be with their sons than because their condition was particularly severe. However, as late as they'd gotten the anti-viral, they might worsen at any time.

Sighing heavily, Daryl unscrewed the cap to his juice. A sweaty-browed Eugene Porter approached him and said, "Might I proffer an exchange? Tit for tat as it were?"

"Fuck you talking about?"

Eugene slid down into the theater seat in front of him. "Your white grape juice for my more traditional varietal of All-American apple juice. I possess a mild allergy to the forbidden fruit."

"Wanna trade juice?"

"I believe that was the proposal I proffered."

Daryl handed him his juice and took Eugene's bottle. "Why you talk the way you do?"

"I might put forth the same question to you." Eugene sipped, coughed, and then sipped again.

"Didn't want to stay and fight for your town?" Daryl asked him. "Decided to be the only middle-age man to come on the school bus with the women and kids and old folk?" He wasn't trying to be an asshole, but that baby's death had pissed him off.

"I lack military training. My expertise lies more in the technological realm. Furthermore, I don't believe I was the only non-elderly man on the aforementioned yellow conveyance. After all, Father Gabriel and Tom the electrician shared the voyage here, as did Robbie the food distributor. Though Robbie, it would seem, has gone on to greener pastures now."

"Yeah, well they're all pansies too," Oscar said as he eased into a chair behind Daryl. He exhaled and lay a hand on his side where a bandage clung. He had no shirt on, but a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, because Bob had recently changed the bandage.

Daryl slung an arm over the chair to turn and look back at him. "Hope the other guy looks even worse."

"Oh, he does," Oscar said. He coughed and then winced because that caused his wound to contract. "Hershel just gave me a Vicodin. It was supposed to knock me out but I guess it'll take a while."

"Think Tyreese is gonna make it?" asked Daryl. He'd ended up in the infirmary because he needed an IV. He'd lost a lot of blood from his wound to begin with, and the virus on top of it hadn't helped. He'd been delirious two hours ago when Dixon hauled him down.

"I don't know," Oscar said. "I wouldn't bet the house on it. Word is you're taking us all in. Those who live anyway."

"Word is," Daryl agreed.

"I was looking on the park map. I was thinking Rosita and I might lay claim to that one-room log cabin in Frontier Kingdom. If the fireplace is real."

"'S real. And there's a real outhouse in that little village, too. But the cabin ain't more than 300 square feet."

"Yeah, but at least it's private, if you know what I mean."

"So, you and Rosita. Y'all still…" Daryl let the sentence finish itself.

"She's still in love with Abraham, but…yeah…we're still."

"Well, he ain't gonna be much competition for you now." It was easier to joke about it than to think about how many had been lost in the battle and to the virus.

Oscar huffed. "I don't know about that. He died saving her. Threw himself in front of Simon before he could shoot her. Took the bullet meant for her. And it's hard to compete with a ghost. Because they never leave the toilet seat up."

Daryl chuckled. In front of him, the empty apple juice bottle slid from Eugene's hand as he dropped into sleep where he sat. Daryl leaned forward slightly to listen for his breath, just to make sure it was sleep and he hadn't suddenly dropped dead. Then he sat back again. "So, what were you in for?"

"Afraid to have an ex-con in your neighborhood?" Oscar asked.

"Pfft. My own brother did a stint in juvie. And I couldn't tell you how many times I bailed him out since then. But he never got convicted as an adult."

"Breaking and entering," Oscar admitted. "I was stealing a game system for my son for his birthday, and some jewelry for my wife. I didn't want it to be another shit Christmas. And this place looked like they could spare it."

"Guess you'll come in handy on supply runs."

"Well, I did get caught. That's how I ended up in prison."

"Get caught during or caught after?" Daryl asked.

"After. Fingerprints."

"Good thing walkers and dead people don't take fingerprints."

Oscar chuckled, winced, and looked down at his wound.

11:20 AM
The Sanctuary

"Silence!" Gavin shouted, and the workers immediately stopped chanting. An obedient quiet descended like a stone. "Jesus Christ, people! Stand up!"

The workers, looking bewildered and nervous, rose from their knees, glanced at one and other, and then looked anxiously up at Gavin, as though any moment they expected a baseball bat to slam into the side of their heads. And maybe they did.

"Listen up!" Gavin tried to project, but he knew he wasn't amplifying as well as Negan had. He was no orator. "You're not Gavin." He tapped his fingertips against his chest. "I'm Gavin. You're whoever you are. As individuals. But you're all part of the Sanctuary. This is your home. Your community. You're the backbone of this place. But if you don't want to stay here, no one is going to force you to stay here. You can leave anytime you like, and no one will be hunting you down as long as you don't steal anything when you go. But if you choose to stay here, then you work for the Sanctuary. You don't work anymore for the profit of the Saviors. You work for your community. You work for each other and to build this place into a camp that can stand strong in the midst of an apocalypse. You make for yourselves and each other an oasis in the desert of this world."

He looked down at the uncertain, worried faces below, the face of people who had never led themselves, who hadn't learned to survive in this world except in submission to others. These people who thought of him as their leader. Well, he might as well use the language of one. "Laura is my lieutenant and will continue to act under my authority when I'm gone." That they could understand.

"When you're gone?" Laura murmured from beside him. "Don't leave me high and dry here, Gavin," she pleaded in a whisper. "I can't do this alone."

Gavin looked at Laura's worried face, her stark fear of trying to rule so many people alone, and returned his attention to the workers, who looked equally terrified of ruling themselves. Laura was at least half right. They didn't need a god, maybe, but they did need leaders. "Neither of us will rule with an iron fist," he announced. "And the workers will no longer be without representation. We're going to form a council. Me, Laura, and three workers."

"Three?" a worker cried in surprise, and there were excited whispers on the factory floor. They were clearly shocked any council would have more workers than Saviors.

"I want you all to decide, together, who you want to appoint to represent you on this new council," Gavin told them. "Figure it out among yourselves and bring me the names by noon tomorrow. And then the new council will meet, and we'll draft a compact. We'll put some rules in place. New rules. And we'll decide how to deal with violations of those rules in a way that doesn't involve arbitrary enforcement or bashing in anyone's head in with a baseball bat. The council will figure out how to improve the living conditions for the workers. We'll re-work the point system to better represent the Sanctuary's actual supply and demand needs. We'll make a list of all the jobs that are needed, the skills they require, and publicly post those jobs and how many points they'll pay, and then you can each apply to the council for your top choices. Some jobs are going away completely, like wrangling the undead onto the fence. Like serving in the harem. And some jobs will be opening up to you that you weren't allowed to work before, like guard and supply runner. But we'll work all that out at the council meetings. And we'll go from there." When the workers just stood there like they were waiting for him to say something more, he concluded, "You're dismissed!"

A chatter of voices filled the factory as they went back to work. Gavin returned to the council room, trailed by Laura and the other three Saviors who had come out to watch the scene. He sat down wearily at the table and rubbed his eyes.

"Thank you," Laura said as she leaned with a hand on the table. "I couldn't do this without you."

"Does this mean you're not coming back to the Kingdom?" Alden asked.

"Frankie wants to live there," Gavin murmured. "She doesn't want to move back here."

"You can't govern the Sanctuary all the way from the Kingdom," Laura told him.

"I just wanted to keep my word to Ezekiel. I never meant to sign up for this shit!" Gavin slapped the table with the open palm of his hand.

"Yeah, well neither did Jesus," Laura said. "But now he's leading the Hilltop. Or Aaron, who's basically Deanna Monroe's lieutenant now that her sons are dead. Or Natania or Cyndie who had to step up and lead Hallowbrant. I helped you, but overthrowing Negan and all the other lieutenants was your idea. You can't create a vacuum and then not step up to fill it."

Gavin sighed. "Dwight," he ordered, "I saw Amber's mother down there. The fifty-something woman with white hair. Name's Nadine. Go get her, take her back to the Kingdom to live with Amber. Tell Frankie I'm helping out and I'll be back at the Kingdom in about twelve days." He wouldn't be able to stay for long, though, probably, before he had to return to the Sanctuary. There was so much to be done here. Negan hadn't ruled with an iron fist merely because he was sadistic, though he was that. He'd done it because it was easier. Easier than building a workable, freer society. "Don't tell her any more than that. I have to tell her what I got myself into face to face."

Dwight nodded.

"DJ, I'll need you to stay here and help Laura train new guards, if you're all right with that."

"Yes, sir," DJ replied.

"And Alden, I need you to work with J. Money on factory floor security. Aaron's going back to Alexandria eventually, and we need someone else down there. The workers like you. I think you can resolve conflicts among them. Money can be the muscle when needed, if fights break out, or whatever, but you can be the adjudicator. You all right with that?"

Alden nodded.

Gavin looked at Laura. "You know the one pressing thing we haven't done yet?"

"What's that?" she asked.

"Clinked glasses over that asshole's grave. You still got Negan's good scotch?"

Laura smiled. "I'll go get it."

4 PM
Fun Kingdom

Carol sat holding Judith in her arms and feeding her from a bottle. Michonne, who sat next to her at the dining room table, smiled down at the baby, who looked up at Michonne with big brown eyes.

Over the past few hours, T-Dog had taken Sasha and Rosita to fetch Woodbury's gas tanker trucks from the church parking lot where they'd parked them eight miles from Woodbury before the battle. They said they could see the smoke of the town from the top of the church steeple. The tankers were now safely behind the fences of Fun Kingdom – 12,000 gallons worth.

Rosita had contacted Mary at Terminus when she returned to tell the woman her sons Gareth and Alex were dead, along with Martin and four other Terminus fighters. Mary had called her a "goddamn bitch for luring my peaceful sons into war," and then the radio had gone silent.

That was unfortunate. With all the new people they were taking in, and gardens that had only recently begun to grow, it would be good to have a positive trade relationship with Terminus. They might have lost that possibility.

And then that mystery woman from the north had radioed them again. She'd revealed her name this time – Laura. Carol had talked to her for a good long while. Now, she shared what Laura had told her with the group gathered around the dinning room table.

"Ten Saviors?" Maggie asked from across the table. "He's bringing ten Saviors with him?"

"That's what Laura said," Carol answered.

"These are the same Saviors who attacked us?" Sasha asked.

"It's complicated." Carol set the bottle on the table and Michonne reached for Judith in an offer to burp the baby. Carol handed her and the burp cloth over and continued, "Negan, the former leader of the Saviors, sent Simon. The woman I spoke to – she was in Negan's inner circle, but she rebelled against him along with another man who was in his inner circle named Gavin. Shane organized an army from the communities they were extorting to help overthrow the rest of the inner circle and their soldiers. Basically, this community, which she calls the Sanctuary, has new leadership now, and the leadership is glad you all got rid of Simon. They regarded him as a threat. As for Shane, he was leading a community called the Hilltop, but then he just went AWOL. He recruited those ten Saviors to come after Simon. To take back Woodbury and rescue Lori if Simon had taken it."

"And have they been in touch with Shane at all since he left?" T-Dog asked.

Carol shook her head. "He was out of range within a hundred miles. He doesn't have the kind of ultra-long-range radio Simon did, apparently. But if he makes the same kind of time Simon did, he'll probably roll into Woodbury tonight. And when he sees what he sees, I suppose he'll come here."

"You think he'll want to move back to Fun Kingdom?" Glenn asked. "With all those Saviors he's bringing?"

"Excuse me…" Beth interjected. Carol nodded to her to know she had as much a right to speak as anyone. "So…are these good Saviors or bad Saviors?"

"I don't think it's that clear cut," Carol replied. "They'd been supporting a brutal man, but they surrendered when Shane and his army attacked. And then they joined Shane. Laura said they're rough men. And one rough woman."

Patricia shot T-Dog a worried look before asking, "What do we do when they show up here?"

"Proceed with armed caution," Carol replied. "And don't open our gates unless and until we know what we're dealing with isn't a threat. Rosita's at the castle tower slides right now. I say we put another guard on the gate, and keep a watchman awake in the house all night. Walkie talkies to relay. When Shane arrives, we all go out there. Well, not all of us. Beth, you stay armed and with the kids here. Sophia will help you watch Judith, Mika, and Andre. But me, Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, T-Dog, Patricia, Sasha, Rosita – we should all greet them as a show of force. So those Saviors Shane brings know we can't be easily taken. I don't want them to get any ideas about extorting this place."

"You think Shane would extort us?" Glenn asked.

"I think these Saviors were in the business of extortion," Carol answered. "And Shane's only one man who may not be able to control them once they see what we have." She turned to Sasha. "Which of the non-sick Woodbury citizens in the Royal Banquet can we trust with a gun? Because I'd like to greet them with more than eight armed people, when they have ten."

"Jody maybe," Sasha replied. "But he's only about sixteen. He has been learning to shoot. He's just…you know…a teenage boy. And not mature like Dixon. Not even as mature as Carl. Sarah, maybe, we could arm. That's Owen's mother, but there are a lot of kids in there. I'd rather she stay and help keep an eye on them."

"We'll leave Jody out of it," Carol said. "But we need to make a good show with just eight of us. Handguns on hips and rifles on shoulders. The best ones."

"Is this really how we greet an old friend?" Glenn asked. "With armed soldiers?"

"An old friend you haven't seen for five months," Maggie reminded him. "Who's changed in God knows how many ways."

"And who was already a little pissed off when he left," T-Dog added. "An old friend who's bringing ten soldiers with him who are - according to this Laura person - rough men. I don't know about you, but I'm not greeting them with nothing but a smile."

"Fair point," Glenn conceded. "But I get the M16."