A/N: Hello, guys! So first off, don't be fooled by the little bit at the beginning where it's sort of chill—the majority of this chapter is action. The gore and violence in this chapter I think is pretty on par for the show, but I'll just warn you anyway that...it gets gory and violent. I honestly had so much fun writing it, though, and as such, the chapter song is a fun one: "Cookie Thumper!" by Die Antwoord. It's maybe not for everyone, but it's a fucking romp and even though it's technically about...well, sex, I thought the energy fit these scenes perfectly lol. Shout out to dampish for introducing me to it—you're awesome and I hope you're doing well, friend. As always, thank you guys so much for reading and reviewing, it always makes me so happy! Hope you enjoy!
14. Cookie Thumper!
They kept Naomi in the dark about the finer points. It was easy enough. A part of her had refused to leave the dark since Arkansas.
"You won't have to kill anyone," Alpha told her.
"But you will," she replied flatly.
"Not if your plan works. And it will. It's a gorgeous plan." This was only a half-lie. The plan really was great. It was just that Alpha wasn't intending to spare many lives with it.
Nick, too, swallowed her misinformation. He recognized Alpha's true intentions as far as killing people, but like Naomi, had no idea the Kingdom would be involved.
They were so easy sometimes.
The Wolves had become so skilled at reconnaissance, it was effortless to calculate the morning of execution. Alpha woke early on the day, buzzing with energy. Everyone involved was up and waiting for her, two groups and Naomi, who would work alone. Everyone with their dead and their weapons, Naomi and her poison arrows. Nick had volunteered to go with her; he'd gotten quite good at wielding the bow with his prosthetic. But Murph was at the crux of some very intriguing research, so Alpha ordered him to stay behind and help.
One less person to worry about keeping from the truth.
"Timing is everything," she reminded them. "We go together until I give the signal."
They all ducked their heads low.
"Yes, Alpha."
~m~
It's too early for this shit, Mason thought, nervously sipping at her tea. She was leaning with her shoes on the edge of the table, balancing her chair on its back legs. One foot tapped incessantly.
Daryl, sitting on her left, rolled his eyes. "Man, you best cut that out."
She looked him dead in the eye and tapped her foot louder.
In a move so quick she couldn't prepare for it, he kicked the chair out from under her, and she went tumbling to the floor right as the rest of the council walked in.
She blinked, mortified, and tried to think of something cool to say.
"Uh. Salutations, my dudes."
Salutations?She was hanging out with Eugene too much.
"Well," Rick said, eyes twinkling. "I guess we should get this meeting started, since some of us are just falling out of their chairs with excitement about it."
Laughter rippled through the group. Maggie in particular seemed thoroughly entertained. Morgan helped Mason back up into her chair, offering to get her a towel when he realized she was drenched in tea.
"Nah, I'm good," she mumbled. "But if you see my dignity anywhere, I'd like that back, please."
The meeting was fairly short, but it felt long. Aside from Michonne, who had taken Heath on a run for essentials they were low on, the whole council was there—Rick, Daryl, Glenn, Carol, Abraham, Maggie, Sasha and Morgan. Even without her majestic kick-off, she knew she would've felt horribly out of place, but she sat and listened and quieted the part of her that wished Beth and Eugene were there.
Things had been quiet for a while now, no Wolf spottings, and though no one was eager to believe the attacks were over, they were keen to take advantage of the respite.
"Your people said they saw these Wolves in a town not far from here," Rick said.
Mason leaned back. "You want to go there."
"If that's where they're holing up, I think we have to. Hit them before they hit us."
"We could've left them reeling from the last time they attacked," Sasha said. "Maybe that's why they haven't made a try for it again."
"Then they'd be weak. Perfect time to attack," Carol agreed.
Mason bit her lip. "When were you planning to do this?"
"Soon," Rick said. "Abraham's almost ready to leave the infirmary permanently, Denise is going to take the splint off Aaron's arm any day now. Everyone's had a chance to breathe and recover, thanks to you and your people. Eugene's been building back our store of ammo. We have to do this while we're on the upswing."
It made sense. Mason knew it did. She couldn't help feeling reluctant to encourage them.
Rick didn't fail to notice. He tipped his head. "You feel differently?"
"Well…" She glanced nervously at the faces around her. It was disconcerting, remembering that everyone at the table knew about the Saviors. Or at least part of the story.
"I just know what it's like to think you have the upper hand going in," she confessed. "I know what it's like to be wrong about that."
Rick's resolve never wavered, but his eyes softened all the same. "That's why we need to be sure before we do anything. We were hoping you and Ezekiel might be willing to lend your Knights for that purpose."
"For recon first?"
"We've been afforded the luxury of sleuthing this place out," Abraham said. "But that prospect might change lanes without signaling, given these pricks' penance for…well, prickery. Better to leave them ass-up in the median this time."
"It's not up to me," Mason said. "I'd have to visit Ezekiel first."
"You and I can leave this evening once everyone's back," Rick said. "In the meantime, we need to get this place prepped, just in case. Noah's overseeing a crew to fortify the watch posts but we'll need to make a run for more supplies."
"Now?" Glenn asked. "Michonne's gone, the Misfits'll be trading shifts today…"
"The Wolves haven't gone this long without attacking since they started. We've already waited longer than I'm comfortable with. We can't keep sitting around, wondering if today's the day, we have to take control. Whoever goes out, we'll keep in touch through walkies, call them back if we need them."
When the meeting ended, Mason crumpled up her empty cup and prepared to chuck it at Daryl's head. Rick cleared his throat before she got the chance.
"Rick. Hey." She hid the cup behind her back. "Something else you need?"
He smiled a little. "I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. I mean, all things considered."
The question blindsided her, but she tried not to show it. "Oh. Yeah. Great. I'm…living the dream, you know?" She gave him two thumbs up and immediately began to sweat.
This isn't a 90's sitcom, dumbass.
He nodded. "Oh, yeah. We all are. Look, I know I've said it before, but thank you. For everything. I know it hasn't been the easiest arrangement for you."
"No one has it easy these days."
"No. But it's important to me that you know how much I appreciate all you're doing here. And that you know you're welcome here anytime, even after this."
He laid a hand on her shoulder. Something lodged in her throat and made it hard to reply, so she just nodded.
"There is going to be an after this, Mason. I get why you're worried, but we've dealt with people like this before. It always worked out in the end, even when it seemed like it wouldn't."
She remembered nurturing that kind of optimism. It hurt hearing it in his voice.
Except this is going to be different.
"It will work out," she agreed. "Because I won't let it end any other way."
"No, we won't."
In his gentle correction, in his voice…she thought she heard respect. She couldn't decide if this filled her with happiness or embarrassment.
Rick dismissed her, reminding her to be ready to leave around six or so. She joined Beth and Eugene in the garden, offering a half-assed explanation for her wet clothes before launching into a lesson on how to wield the scythe.
She had them spend a good hour cutting grass, grinning while they lamented how much of a workout it truly was.
"Pretty clever."
Mason turned, unsurprised to see Tobin. He'd observed quite a few of their previous training sessions.
"Clever?"
"You get them to exercise and you get them to cut your grass for you. Ingenious."
"Just wait till you see how I get them to clean my gutters."
Tobin chuckled. "Well, I hate to interrupt, but Noah was hoping you three could help with the fortification. Eric's run to get more pallets and sheet metal, but we still have enough here to get started."
"Yeah, of course."
"And I was hoping to talk to you. About maybe getting in on some of those lessons."
Mason blinked. "Really?"
"Yeah, I…I know how to handle myself alright but only in the most basic situations. With the Wolves how they are, it's probably best if I push myself a little more."
The thought of having another student made her a little self-conscious, but he was right. A baseline knowledge of combat only got you so far. Plus…she'd sort of been slacking lately on the whole "keep-her-distance-from-Eugene-and-Beth" thing. Having another person there would make that easier, and though she didn't know him well, Tobin seemed like a nice guy.
"Okay," she said. "We can start tomorrow then, if that works for you."
Noah waited for them at the southern watch post, delegating jobs to a small crowd. A little ways off, Rick stood with his own group where the cars were parked.
"Hey," Noah said. "Thanks for this, we can really use the extra hands. Your Misfits were helping out but they had to switch shifts."
"Well, when Lily and Dave get here, we can put them to work, too," Mason said. From the corner of her eye, she saw Rick pull a walkie talkie from his belt and speak into it.
"Sounds good," Noah said. "For now, you, Beth and Eugene can join Tara and Gabriel's group. They're—"
A shout cut him off. Mason jumped, heart bursting into a sprint when she spotted Rick running toward them. The group he'd been talking with scattered, grabbing weapons, piling into cars…
"Tara, grab the gun bag, you're coming with us!"
"What's going on?" Tara demanded, already reaching for her gun and jogging toward the armory.
"Charlie got me on the walkie, she said they were ambushed halfway to the Kingdom."
Fear spiked a cold talon through Mason's chest. She could barely move her lips to form the words.
"Are they alright?"
"They're alright. They're alive. They're trapped in their car right now."
"The Wolves?"
Rick nodded. "I'm taking a group to get them. Carol, Glenn, Morgan, and Rosita."
"And me," Mason growled. Beth and Eugene stepped up on either side of her, but she was only dimly aware of this. Her heart was pushing the blood too quickly through her veins.
Rick held a hand out. "I can't take everyone, I can't leave this place unprotected."
"You can't stop me from going!"
"Mason." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "I'm taking fighters with me. I need to know there's enough left here to protect this place. I promise you, I promise you, we're going to get them out."
"Let me lead the group then. They're my people, they're my responsibility—"
"But I'm the one that asked them to come here. After all they've done for my people, my family…it has to be me. I'm not sending someone else out in my place."
She strained forward on the balls of her feet, shaking. That was Charlie out there, that was Dray and Ashlee.
"Miss Champion, Lily and Dave are on their way here as we speak," Eugene said. "They will be crossing paths with this ambush. They can lend additional assistance."
Rick gave him a grateful nod. Mason ground her teeth, blinking back tears.
"Mason, you know how to fight, you know how to protect your community," Rick said. "I need you to stay. I'm trusting you with this place. Do you trust me?"
She wanted to argue, but each second that slipped by was a knife dragging itself along her nerves. Shutting her eyes tight, she nodded.
Rick handed her the walkie talkie and hurried for the cars, rallying his group. Tara returned a moment later with the guns. Mason watched numbly as they sped away and Gabriel shut the gate behind them.
"Hey." Beth brushed a strand of hair out of Mason's face. "It's okay. They're gonna help them. It's gonna be alright."
"Beth is correct," Eugene said. "Rick knows what he's doing."
Mason nodded again, quickly. She didn't want them to comfort her. "We…" She stopped to clear her throat. "We need to keep working, but everyone needs a weapon on them. We need to be ready in case they need backup. Let everyone know, Beth, okay?"
Everyone resumed their work, more subdued than before. Mason tried to concentrate, but everything had happened so suddenly, spun her thoughts into a whirlwind, and she couldn't seem to slow them.
Why target the Misfits on the road? There were only three of them, easy to kill or take hostage. If they did intend to take them hostage, would they stay and fight when Rick showed up? What if that was what they wanted? What if Rick was walking into a trap?
You should've gone with them.
Mason touched the walkie on her belt and glanced at the gate. She still could…
"Hey." Eugene eyed her shrewdly. "We need you here."
"It could be a trap, Eugene."
"I believe Rick is well aware of that possibility. We have gotten out of stickier situations with far less warning."
"He should've just let me fucking go."
He squinted, like he was trying to think of how to word something. "Mason. You are second-in-command at the Kingdom, am I correct?"
"Well, I kind of share that position with Jerry…" What the fuck was he getting at? She couldn't think of anything but what might be happening to her family, her friends…
"But you are entirely capable of taking charge when necessity demands it. Rick saw that."
"That's bullshit. He left Maggie and Sasha here, too, and they're both more than capable—"
"And both currently pregnant."
"Yeah? What about Daryl? He's not pregnant."
"Well, I ain't pissed on one of them little sticks yet, but I'm pretty sure I ain't."
Beth had returned, Daryl in tow. Mason threw one last glare at Eugene before addressing Beth.
"Everyone know what's going on?"
"They do. Everyone's armed. There's…not enough ammo for everyone to carry a full clip yet, and Rick's group took a good portion of the guns with them. Maggie and Sasha have the most ammo with a half mag each."
Mason's fingers brushed the gun at her belt. She only had three rounds herself.
"And what about cars? Are they ready in case we need to—"
The crackle of a walkie spiked her with adrenaline, and she reached for hers before realizing it was coming from the one hooked on Daryl's vest.
"Daryl—"
Mason recognized Eric's voice, tinny in the static, and all she could think was, What now?
Daryl held the button down and replied, "Yeah, I'm here."
"I—I need help. I'm out here at off-sight construction and…there's walkers everywhere. They came out of nowhere and…I think I'm bit. Or scratched. I don't know, I'm bleeding and the walkers…"
Mason went cold. She thought of Eric that night in the infirmary, joking around with him and Aaron…
Daryl let out a strangled grunt and made a beeline for the cars. Mason, Beth and Eugene followed.
"Where?" Daryl demanded. "Where were you bit?"
"My…my ankle. I've got it tied off to slow the blood flow, but it's swelling up and…" He breathed shakily, obviously fighting tears. "I'm hiding in a bulldozer. I can't run."
"I'm comin' to get you."
"No, I'll go," Beth said, face twisting into a formidable scowl when the three of them shot her objecting looks. "I have to! He needs someone who can amputate his foot and we can't send Denise. So I'm goin'."
Mason tried to protest. "No—"
"Y'ain't goin' alone, you idiot," Daryl snapped.
And tried to protest again. "You—"
"Then come with me. But we have to go."
But neither of them would listen. Beth strode to a car and hopped in, glaring expectantly at him. Mason searched desperately for some way to argue her back. But she knew Beth was right. Eric would likely die without her, and there was no way in hell she was going alone.
Daryl hopped into the passenger seat. Mason caught Beth's door before she could close it and leaned in with the most menacing look she could manage, near tears as she was.
"You both are going to be super fucking careful," she ordered. "Or I'm kicking your asses all the way to Saturn."
Daryl saluted her. Beth gave her a hard smile. Reluctantly, Mason stepped aside to let them pass.
Eugene closed the gate behind them, then turned to Mason. There was fear in his eyes, too, but when he reached out and took her hand, he felt steady and warm.
"Daryl won't let anything happen to her," he murmured.
"I know." She sighed shakily. "If Rick needs backup, we're down two people."
"But we're still here. At the risk of sounding full of myself, I believe I am now thoroughly capable of Daviding any Goliath the universe throws at me, thanks to your fine tutelage."
Despite everything, he got her to smile. A small one, but miraculous nonetheless. She let him lead her back in the direction of Noah's crews. Her mind continued chasing its tail, calculating Rick's numbers, the numbers they still had left here…
She stopped cold.
They were down two viable fighters to send Rick's way, it was true. But…
They were down eleven fighters to defend Alexandria.
Defend Alexandria.
"Mason?" Eugene squeezed her hand. "What is it?"
"How many people are left?" Her voice came from far away.
"What?"
"How many people are left?"
He blinked slowly. Understanding chilled the blue in his eyes. Mason felt frozen for one brief, painful, unending moment.
But she forced her lips to move, and the rest of her body followed.
"We need to get everyone together, now. We can't be separated."
Eugene nodded. "It may be best to gather everyone in the armory. That way—"
Something shattered against the left side of his face in an explosion of glass and flames.
Someone screamed. Mason thought maybe it was her.
She lunged, throwing Eugene to the ground as a second Molotov cocktail sailed over them. She buried her weight against him, trying to smother the flames, one hand reaching for her shield. She got it up in time to block a third cocktail.
From all around, there came the sound of more glass shattering, and screams. A few gunshots peppered the air. One of the watch posts caught fire, and then a second.
Wolves slathered in walker blood shimmied over the walls, pausing on support ballasts to take aim with cocktails, with bows and arrows. There were ten of them, fifteen of them, twenty… With each one, the tempo of her thoughts jumped, weighing options, weighing risks.
They had to fall back. They had to fall back to a safe place, together. It was the only way they were going to be able to survive, let alone fight.
"Eugene!" Tears blinded her as she rolled him over. Blood trickled down the left side of his face, and beneath that the skin was seared angry red. The left eye refused to open when he looked at her.
But he was conscious. He was alive. Relief made her knees weak.
"Eugene, we have to move," she said. "Can you move? Can you get up?"
"I…" He trailed off but nodded dizzily.
She hopped off him, shield up. Flames licked its surface and dripped to the ground, and she realized belatedly that the heat had scorched her knuckles.
A nearby archer took aim at Eugene, who was still crouched on the ground, holding his bleeding head. Mason jumped between them, knocking the arrow aside. She snarled and pointed at the archer, as if to mark him, then whirled to help Eugene to his feet.
"C'mon, Eugene." She clutched his waist to support him and grunted at his weight. "I thought you could David any Goliath the universe threw at you."
"I didn't…know…" He swayed. "Didn't know the universe would be throwing bombs…"
She huffed a laugh.
A couple yards away, Noah fled from a volley of arrows. His limp slowed him but somehow he managed to avoid each one. She was about to hail him when a roaring caught her attention.
She paused, turning back to the gate, where the roar was coming from. Coming closer. Closer.
A semi barreled through the drive, swatting the gate to the side like it was nothing. It veered sideways, smashing the cab into the wall, which was the only thing that stopped it skidding deeper into the community. The box trailer wobbled precariously before settling with a groan.
The door to the trailer opened from the inside, and a woman doused in walker blood hopped out, followed by a flood of about thirty dead.
There was something off about the walkers, although Mason couldn't immediately tell what and she didn't stick around to figure it out.
She tugged Eugene forward. He was regaining a bit of his stability, but she didn't trust he was able to make it to the infirmary on his own.
"Mason!"
Tobin ran to them, taking up position on Eugene's other side.
"I've got him," he said. "Cover me, huh?"
She nodded, though it surprised her how hard it was to let Eugene go; the fear caught her off guard with its ferocity.
Arrows fell like rain around them. She knocked a few to the side with her shield, which continued to burn. It was actually pretty damn uncomfortable, but she didn't stop to put it out.
As she moved, she tried to keep track of the Alexandrians scattered around her. None of them were trying to fight, but none of them were fleeing in the same direction, either. The armory might've been an option before, but if people were injured…
"The infirmary!" she cried. "Get to the infirmary, all of you!"
Thankfully, some of them heard her. Shouts rang out as they passed the message along to those who hadn't.
On her left, Gabriel collapsed to the ground. She thought at first he'd been hit by an arrow before she realized it was a knife sticking out of his thigh, and that the hulking figure a few yards away must have thrown it.
The Wolves were closing in.
Like the walkers are on Gabriel. Move your ass.
She darted for him, freeing her iron from the sling on her back. She knocked one walker away with her shield and slashed the stomach of another in the same movement.
Its skin tore easily, and its guts spilled out.
Except…
The guts moved. They hissed as they fell at her feet, wriggling, slithering, and she realized…
Snakes. Fucking snakes. They were fucking snakes they were fucking snakes.
She stumbled back with a gasp, giving the walker a chance to fall on her. Its teeth clacked inches from her nose. Its skin slid and distorted beneath her fingertips; she couldn't get a good grip on it. And she realized that it wasn't just the walker's stomach that was filled with snakes. Beneath the thin, rotting membrane of its arms and chest, ropes of foreign muscle squirmed.
It pressed closer. The patchwork skin—crisscrossed with stitches where the Wolves had sewn in their fucked up surprise—broke bit by bit as she struggled to brace it. From several directions but close enough to raise goosebumps, the telltale sound of rattlesnakes.
As the walker's head hung over hers, its maw opened and a gore-slick snake glided out.
Mason screamed and threw the walker to the side, regardless of the flesh which burst apart in a shower of serpents. It took her two tries to successfully scramble to her feet. A few of the snakes struck at her. She dodged all of them and raced to Gabriel's side, tucking an arm around his waist to pull him up.
He hissed in pain, clutching at the knife in his thigh, but she smacked his hand away.
"You can't, you'll bleed out." Her voice came out sharper than she intended, still shook by the walker's hideous cargo.
She let Gabriel set the pace as they limped forward. She could see the infirmary now; two Alexandrians were carrying someone inside. Tyreese, she realized. In the back of her mind, she thought, Another fighter down.
"Mason." Gabriel slowed and pointed to a house on their left. "Wait."
Maggie stood on the porch, trying to aim at the archers in between shooting down walkers. Two figures crept up the alley toward her. She hadn't noticed them.
"Maggie!" Mason shouted. "Behind you!"
She turned as the first Wolf leapt over the porch railing, wielding a large hunting knife. Mason raised her gun and downed him in one shot. His body collapsed halfway on top of Maggie, sending her to the floor. The second Wolf vaulted onto the porch, giving her no time to readjust her aim as he swiped at her with a hatchet. He was quicker than the first guy; Mason didn't want to risk shooting at him when he was so close to Maggie.
"Fuck," Mason hissed, gently lowering Gabriel to the ground. "Sorry, padre. Be right back."
She sprinted the distance, shield up, and didn't pause before barreling into the Wolf. They crashed against the side of the house; the impact jarred Mason enough that she tumbled back on her ass, shoulder singing with pain.
Maggie shot the Wolf before he could recover.
"Mason—"
"Maggie, where's your baby? We're all gathering in the infirmary."
"I can't take her through that. I can't risk it."
"I'll cover you."
"You can't be everywhere at once." Her wide eyes flicked to the chaos behind Mason.
She was right, she was right, Mason knew it, but her nerves needled with frustration all the same. How was she going to protect everyone?
"You got more weapons than just that gun?"
Maggie picked up the Wolves' knife and hatchet. "I do."
"Is there a place you can hole up inside?"
She nodded. "I'll be okay, Mason. Go."
There was nothing left to say and no time for it. Mason hurried back to Gabriel, and was about to scoop him back into her grip, when she spotted Eugene and Tobin up ahead. Three walkers had intercepted them, and Mason thought they probably wouldn't have had much trouble dispatching them under normal circumstances.
But the walkers were leaking snakes, throwing Eugene and Tobin off balance.
Mason glanced apologetically at Gabriel. He waved her away. "Do what you have to."
She shot one of the walkers as she ran, and made it over to them in time to spear another walker crouched over Eugene. He kicked his legs, propelling himself out of the writhing mass of snakes. Her eyes darted over him; he didn't seem to have been bitten, by serpent or walker.
"Snakes," he gasped. "Goddamn snakes."
"Yep. We're at that weird stage of the apocalypse now."
She turned to find Tobin dispatching the third walker. But her eyes caught on a patch of red on his shoulder blade.
A circular set of teeth marks.
"Tobin," she breathed.
He just nodded, looking more exhausted than anything. "I know. Come on, we're almost there."
They were the last ones in the infirmary. Mason hesitated in the doorway, searching the streets for anyone they might've left behind.
The only Alexandrians she saw lay sprawled on the ground, run through with arrows or smoldering from cocktail flames.
She closed the door quietly, a contrast to the ruin outside and the cacophony inside.
"She needs a saline drip—Noah, hand me that clamp!"
They were all dead.
"Hold still, I need to apply anesthetic."
All those people out there she was supposed to protect.
"Sit down, you're going to pass out. Aaron, I need you!"
Mason closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks.
This wasn't it. This wasn't the place to fall apart. There were still people who needed her.
When she dared look, the scene in the infirmary took her breath away. Blood everywhere, on the floor, on operating tables, on everyone. Denise leaning over a woman whose arm had been…
Mason swallowed. Whose arm had been chopped off.
Noah stood next to her, assisting. Aaron and Enid rushed back and forth with various medical supplies. Abraham tried to get out of bed to help and Denise snarled at him to stay right the fuck where he was.
"The last thing I need right now is for you to tear your stitches."
Wisely, he obeyed.
Mason drifted through the room to the table where Rosita was examining Eugene's face.
"How is he?" she asked.
"This cut will need stitches and his face is burnt, but I can't tell how badly yet. There's glass in his eye, that's what I'm most worried about. And he might have a concussion."
"Miss Espinosa," he groaned. "There will be time to worry about me later. There are others who—"
"Denise told me to examine you. If we leave the glass in, you could lose vision in this eye," Rosita snapped. "Now sit. Still."
Mason's chin trembled. "I'm sorry." She barely got the words out.
He glared at her with his good eye. "Mason, short of being the asshole who blitzed me with homemade nitro, you have no reason to be."
She opened her mouth to argue, but Rosita interrupted.
"He's right." She didn't look at Mason, too busy stemming the bleeding at his temple. "You got him in here. You got Tobin and Gabriel in here. You can't waste energy blaming yourself."
Except that Tobin was bit. Eugene and Gabriel and so many others were hurt. So many others were…
Shut up. She's right. Blame yourself later.
Steeling her spine, she glanced out the window. She couldn't see the archers anymore, but a line of Wolves with brutal handheld weapons prowled toward them. They were still some distance away, laughing and hooting.
A few stopped to hack at the bodies on the ground. Like it was entertainment. Like they were having fun with it.
Heat kindled in her belly. Monsters, fucking monsters…
Monsters who carried more than weapons.
Monsters who carried gas cans.
The heat in her belly guttered.
They had the Alexandrians right where they wanted them. They could light the infirmary up in a second and be done with it.
She'd done the Wolves' job for them. She had led these people to a tinderbox.
Don't panic. Not now. Think.
She glanced around the infirmary with more purpose this time. Eleven injured, from what she could see, Gabriel, Tyreese and Eugene among them. Denise delegated orders to those fit enough to help—Aaron, Noah, Rosita, Enid, Tobin. Carl, too, joined them after a moment, giving Judith to Abraham. Sasha stood watch near the door, one hand cupping her pregnant belly.
Two things struck her at once.
The first was that…she knew these people now. Much as she had tried to stay away from them, tried not to learn their names or who they were, she knew them all the same.
The second was that there were no available fighters left. Eleven injured, some of them bleeding out on operating tables, and only seven tending to those injured. Sasha six months pregnant. Maggie pregnant as well, hiding with her firstborn.
There were no available fighters left.
But one.
Dread seized her, but she shook it off. She knew what she had to do. There was nothing else.
"Sasha," she called. "You've got a half mag, right? I need you to get upstairs to one of the northern windows. I think they might try to sneak around back and you're the only one with ammo."
Sasha narrowed her eyes. "I can't leave the front unprotected."
Mason smiled weakly and twirled her fire iron. "It won't be."
"No."
The voice came from behind her. She half-turned, but couldn't bring herself to really look at Eugene.
"I have to," she said. "I can't let them get here, if they do, we're all dead."
"You cannot stand alone against an entire militia. Let Sasha pick them off from here."
"You know as well as I do she doesn't have enough rounds to keep all of them away. There's no time to argue. I'll hold them off as long as I can."
"No!" Eugene jerked to his feet, ignoring the curse Rosita threw at him.
Mason pressed a hand to his chest to stop him, and he grabbed it in his. Beneath her palm, his heart thundered.
"Don't do this, Mason."
"Eugene." Her voice broke. "You have to let me go."
His good eye swam. "Please. Please."
She ducked her head so he wouldn't see her own tears. "This is my job, Eugene. Stay here."
She slid her hand from his and made for the door.
"Mason."
This time, she couldn't keep from looking at him. Tears glistened on his face. She ached to reach out and brush them away.
"Come back to me," he said.
She wanted to promise that she would. But she couldn't lie to him.
"I'll do my best," she said and stepped outside.
~m~
Daryl covered her as she scaled the bulldozer. Eric jumped when she appeared at the door, his clammy face crumpling in relief when he realized it was her.
"Beth," he gasped and opened the door.
"Let me see." She scooted inside and dug through one of the many first aid kits they kept in the cars.
Eric propped up his leg with a wince. Beth paused when she saw his ankle.
"That's not a walker bite."
He sat up in shock. "Wh—what?"
"It's not a bite and…" She leaned closer, examining the slash mark in the swollen skin. "I don't think it's a scratch. At least, not from a walker. It looks like someone cut you."
"Well, no…no one was around…"
She frowned. "The swellin'…almost looks like it's from a snake bite. But that's not a bite mark, unless it's somewhere else…"
She turned his foot this way and that, but found no puncture marks. Unease settled in her stomach.
"Somethin's wrong," she murmured, and almost unconsciously, her eyes slid in the direction of home.
"The hell's takin' so long?" Daryl demanded from below, smashing the skull of a walker with his crossbow.
"He's not bit," she called back. "And he's not scratched, not by any walker."
There was a pause, and then Daryl hopped up on the bulldozer himself, balancing like a cat just outside the door.
"The hell do you mean?"
She rolled her eyes. "I mean he's not bit, Daryl. Look."
Daryl stared at the wound a moment before blinking. "That's from an arrow."
"Wha… How can you know that?"
He held up his crossbow. "I know a little bit about arrows."
"Well, that means…someone's around here," Eric said.
Beth and Daryl shared a glance, and she could feel the fear taking over her expression. That unease in her stomach blossomed into outright dread.
"We need to leave," she said. "We need to get back. Eric, we're gonna cover you so you can make it to the car, okay? Give me your gun."
She and Daryl fought on either side of him, clearing a path through the dead. But though they made it safely to the car, and though it turned out Eric wasn't actually bitten, there was no sense of relief as she peeled away from the construction site. There was only the desperate need to get back home.
~m~
Alpha perched casually on one of the undamaged watch posts, smiling behind her dead mask at the shambles below her. There were bodies scattered all about, some in many pieces, some charred beyond recognition.
She'd thrown the first cocktail, but stayed behind while the others executed the rest of the plan, waiting for her opportunity. She hadn't known exactly what it would be, but in the end Mason presented it to her on a silver platter.
She'd gotten all of them together in one building. Now the Wolves would set it alight, and the Alexandrians would be forced to run or die. It didn't matter which of the options Mason chose; it would be a simple thing, sweeping in, knocking her out. "Rescuing" her.
Alpha hadn't decided what she'd tell her when she woke up, but it wouldn't matter. Mason would be hers. She'd have nowhere else to go, no one else to listen to, but her. It wasn't going to be easier than the original plan, but at this juncture, it seemed the only way to work around the whole "Mason-allying-with-Alexandria" thing.
The damage done to the actual community was an inconvenience, but one they could easily fix. At least there were walls. And everything within those walls they could ever want or need.
Mason would be happy here. She'd forget its former residents with time. Alpha would make sure of it.
Movement from the infirmary cracked her daydream. Her brow furrowed. The Wolves hadn't even reached the place yet, but someone was stepping out.
When she saw who it was, she threw her head back with a loud sigh.
Are you fucking kidding me?
~m~
Every cell in her body bristled with the instinct to run, but Mason kept her stride steady as she approached the Wolves. Walkers approached but she took them down before they could get too close, prepared now to jump out of reach of the snakes.
They stopped near the garden, puzzled and amused by this turn of events. There were quite a few yards between them and the infirmary, and she wanted to keep it that way.
When there were only a few feet between her and them, she stopped.
"Hello, little sheep," one of the Wolves purred. He held a lead pipe, the end of which dripped blood.
She didn't respond, eyeing each of them and their weapons in turn. Eight in all. Too many for her to hope to defeat on her own, but…she had to try.
"Your name's Mason, right?" the first man continued.
She glanced at him sharply and he laughed.
"Yes, we know you. We're supposed to keep you alive."
The words jolted her. Why her? Who the fuck was running this thing and why did they want her?
She shook her head. "You can't have me. Alive, at least."
Another man, a big, hairy guy with an axe, snorted. "What do you think you're gonna do, little girl? Fight us off?"
"I guess so. If you want to get to my people, you'll have to get past me first."
My people?
The Wolves seemed thrown by this. It gave her a grim kind of satisfaction. They may have truly been ordered by who the hell ever to keep her alive, but they were also obviously set on killing the rest of her—of the Alexandrians. And if she was standing in the way of that…
She wondered which order would win out.
"Let us pass, Mason," the first man said, all trace of friendly humor gone. "We won't hurt you if you let us pass."
"I can't allow that."
Movement on either side of the line caught her attention. The Wolf on the far left and the Wolf on the far right crept forward, clearly counting on the fact that she couldn't focus her attention on both of them at once. One of them would surely get past her.
She narrowed her eyes.
Not today, pals.
She dropped her iron and shield as if in defeat.
Once her hands were free, she reached for her gun with the right and her Oasis knife with the left.
The Wolves tried to run, but she was faster. She shot the one on her left, spun, and threw the knife at the one on her right. It sank deep in the back of his neck and he skidded across the pavement.
She scooped up her iron and shield once more and faced the remaining Wolves, who eyed her with new trepidation.
She smiled slightly. "So are we doing this or what?"
The first Wolf rolled his eyes and lunged for her. She blocked the pipe, iron raised to stab him through the stomach. But two other Wolves came at her from her right, forcing her to duck out of the way. She managed to send her iron through the skull of one as she passed but the other darted out of reach.
She jumped back as the huge hairy one brought his axe down. The blade clinked against the cement. She meant to run her iron through his neck but he dodged back and she only caught his arm.
Something sliced her hip. She brought her shield down instinctively, knocking the knife from the hands of a slender woman, who hissed at Mason.
"This isn't Cats, honey," Mason said and bashed her shield up into the woman's throat. Blood dripped down her leg, but she barely felt the pain. Her body thrummed with energy.
Two Wolves rushed her, holding either end of a thick chain. Mason ducked low and hooked the chain with her iron, yanking in the opposite direction with all her strength. The men stumbled to a halt, one of them losing his balance completely and nose-diving to the concrete.
Before she could pull her iron free, the big man slashed his axe down her right arm.
She felt the pain that time, dropping the iron instinctively. He loomed over her. She blocked a second blow with her shield and whirled to the side, reaching to retrieve her fire poker.
The Wolf with the pipe kicked it away with a smug smile.
She curled her lip. Shit.
She fell into a precarious dance, herding the Wolves back, avoiding their weapons, all while trying to move closer to her fire iron.
Her heart sank when she spotted more Wolves in the distance, roving closer.
Shitfuckshit.
Well, she was definitely going to die.
~m~
There was no logic involved in the decision.
Or…no. There was logic.
There just wasn't any instinct for self-preservation. That was the difference. He wasn't used to that, or at least used to feeling it so thoroughly.
Eugene stopped giving a shit about his own safety the second Mason walked out that door.
But he sat quietly while Rosita cleared the glass from his eye, while she patched his head and the burns blistering the left side of his face.
He needed to be able to see, to function, if he hoped to be of any help.
He waited until Rosita moved on to the next patient. Then he slipped quietly for the door.
Nobody tried to stop him. Nobody even noticed.
For once he was glad of that.
~m~
The big man's axe clanked against Mason's shield, and this time the force nearly managed to buckle her.
He leered. "You're getting tired, little girly."
"Yeah, it's probably time for my nap," she said and kicked him in the balls.
He doubled over with a coughing groan, and the axe slipped from his hand. She grabbed for it, but another Wolf beat her there. He swiped at her and she parried the blow, but the blade caught in her shield. She stumbled back, trying to tug free, but it wouldn't budge.
The Wolf laughed, shaking it to unbalance her. Another approached on her right, knife aimed at her head.
Someone darted between them before he could strike, cleaving the man's skull with a machete. Mason nearly collapsed with shock.
"Eugene?"
He kicked the man away before turning to the other Wolf and slitting his throat. He collapsed and the axe finally pulled free of her shield.
She gaped. She couldn't tell if it was anger or relief buzzing in her limbs.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she breathed. "I told you to stay."
"Miss Champion, if you think I am going to stand back and let you get yourself killed, you are sadly mistaken. I have just recently decided that—" He cut off, gritting his teeth as he blocked the blow from a knife with his machete. He kicked the wielder to the ground with enough force that their head cracked on the pavement.
He glanced briefly at Mason.
"If you are going to give the middle finger to imminent death, I am going to be right there beside you, flipping that proverbial bird. Or literal. I suppose it depends on what the situation allows."
And she should've been angry. She wanted to be. She was.
But for some reason, her mouth stretched in a wide, brilliant grin, and her heart swelled, and in that moment she couldn't imagine anyone else she wanted to be flipping that proverbial bird with.
Propelled by new energy, she took up position at Eugene's side as more Wolves approached, drawn by the clamor.
"Where's your weapon?" he asked, slashing his machete at a Wolf who jumped just out of range.
Mason whirled at his side, ramming her shield into the knees of a man who punched at her with a metal dumbbell. "Um, over yonder a ways," she said, nodding to where she'd last seen her iron.
Eugene ducked out of range of a golf club, the end broken off into a jagged shard. His machete squealed against the metal as he brought it up and knocked the club away, opening up the way for him to punch his attacker in the face.
Another Wolf lunged, dragging a knife down his thigh. Eugene ran his machete through the Wolf's throat. Then, with a snarl very unlike him, belted his weapon, seized the Wolf's limp body, and tossed it into the crowd. Some of the Wolves fell. Others tripped over themselves to get out of the way. And Mason realized quickly what he was doing.
Creating a path for her.
She lunged through, but it closed quickly. She spotted her fire poker right as a woman barreled into her, sending her tumbling past it and into the garden.
Her hand landed on something else in the grass. Something strong and familiar.
She gripped it without thinking, scrambling to her feet as the woman closed in. Quickly, she slung her shield onto her back to grip the weapon with two hands.
The scythe cut through the woman's neck with enough force to send her head bouncing out of sight. Her fingers clutched at Mason even as her body collapsed, spurting blood like a fountain.
Some of the Wolves shouted, shouted in fear, and a grim kind of excitement filled her.
Good. They should be afraid of her.
More Wolves surrounded Eugene, who was holding his own but just barely. Mason swung the scythe, hooking it around a Wolf's torso; when she pulled back, the point cut into his chest and straight through his back.
She spun in a wide arc and let the momentum free his body from her blade. It rolled into the gathering of Wolves, scattering a few. It was only then that she really noticed the walkers, pulling closer. Still ignoring the Wolves because of the dead blood coating them.
But they wouldn't ignore her or Eugene.
She rolled her eyes.
What a beautiful, wonderful day this turned out to be.
~m~
When Eugene's machete broke off in the skull of a Wolf, he almost laughed aloud.
Hoo, boy, am I fucked now.
Two Wolves lurched for him at once, so he did the only thing he could think of. He tucked low and all but somersaulted into them. The sheer surprise of this move combined with his weight bowled them over, and as he uncurled, he realized the gamble had brought him within reach of Mason's fire iron.
He grabbed it right as three Wolves made a beeline for the infirmary, one of which held a gas can.
"Shit." He staggered to his feet and took off running, shoving Wolves and walkers out of his way.
Mason was faster.
Her scythe swung low, like she was merely cutting grass, and sheared right through all three pairs of legs.
The men howled in agony, collapsing in their own blood and severed limbs. Mason fell with them, thrown off balance by the force of her attack. She landed on the gas can; her shield cracked the plastic, splashing gasoline on the pavement.
The Wolves moved forward, eager to take advantage.
"No!" Eugene darted between them. The iron came up to defend on his right against a hammer and a machete. His arm came up to defend on his left against a knife.
He felt the blade wrench roughly down his left arm. He felt the pain a second later, so sharp and hot it bewildered him. He swung his arm out, catching his attacker in the throat with his fist. His right arm trembled, still holding back the other two.
His core exposed, the Wolves moved in.
One knife slashed his stomach, only one, before Mason was there, shield up. Four different blades scraped the metal, sending off sparks.
The shield burst into flames and the Wolves jumped back. The weight disappeared from the fire iron and Eugene lowered it gratefully. Blood dripped down his arm, his waist. Probably elsewhere, too, but he was too exhausted to take inventory.
In the reprieve, Mason said, "That's the second time today."
Then she straightened and handed the shield to Eugene so she could wield her scythe with both hands. The grip was tight and hot, but he held it firm all the same.
There was no longer a significant distance between the Wolves and the infirmary, maybe only ten yards. Though he and Mason had managed to kill some of them, twelve still stood before them.
And the walkers, roaming freely among the Wolves as though they were no more than vague obstacles, drawn by the fire and the blood…
Blood.
"Cut them," Eugene whispered.
"What?" Mason hissed back.
"Cut the Wolves. We may not be able to take them all down ourselves, but if the walkers scent fresh blood through their disguise…"
She nodded quickly, eyes gleaming. "Got it."
When she hurtled back into it, Eugene paused only for breath before following.
~m~
Mason's body was running simply on stubbornness at this point. Stubbornness, and the memory of the last time she'd fought for so long against a ruthless enemy. Her muscles burned, aching to stop, to rest. The cut on her arm felt like a fire all its own, searing each time she raised the scythe. And the scythe itself…it was a wicked weapon, when its user knew how to fucking aim it right. But she wasn't used to such an unwieldy thing, or at least to using it in combat.
Still, she managed to draw blood, like Eugene suggested. And it worked, to an extent. Any walkers who got close enough to the bleeding Wolves turned on them. But between dodging attacks and covering Eugene and halting any advance toward the infirmary, there just wasn't enough time for the plan to really get a foothold.
At a certain point, she wasn't quite sure when, the odds abandoned them entirely. Nothing significant changed. She only knew it in her shaking muscles, in the scorch marks on her shield, which Eugene had managed to set fire to two Wolves with before it guttered. She knew it in the way he sagged against her for the briefest heartbeat, sweat-soaked and panting. She knew it in the Wolves' glittering eyes.
This had turned into a game for them, she knew. No matter their orders, they were playing with them now.
Somewhere in the middle of this, she caught sight of a Wolf hanging back, pacing slowly back and forth while they watched. She couldn't make out much about them. They wore a jacket with the hood up, and a hideous mask of dead flesh to cover their face.
Enjoying the show, asshole? she wanted to yell, but dared not spare the breath.
The Wolf with the lead pipe—still alive, fucking bastard—grinned at her.
"You still wanna do this, little sheep? It can be easier, you know. You don't have to bleed so much—"
A gunshot cut him off.
His body toppled, spraying red from the new hole in his head.
Everyone stopped, searching for the source. Mason's heart fluttered in disbelief.
"Beth," she rasped. "Beth."
Beth, who appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Who shot down three more Wolves before she was out of ammo, then snatched a hatchet off the ground and flung herself into the fray.
"Get the fuck away from them!" she snarled, ducking and dodging and hacking a path to stand in front of Mason and Eugene.
The Wolves didn't seem terribly alarmed by her appearance, darkly amused by it, even.
Until another of them fell, a brightly colored arrow through his temple.
And Mason could've cried at the sight of Daryl, raising his crossbow once more to take aim.
"We can do this," she whispered, blinking to clear her vision. She raised her voice to a rallying cry. "We can do this!"
With Beth at their side, she and Eugene pushed forward once more, dripping sweat and blood, weary but for the hope their friends lent them. When Daryl ran out of his own arrows, he plucked a few of the Wolves' arrows from the ground and wielded them like knives, punching and skewering until he, too, could fight beside Mason and Eugene.
She didn't know how they did it. They were still horribly outnumbered, and there were several moments when it felt they were making no headway at all. But somehow, step by slow, aching step, they forced the Wolves back.
They began to flee when Mason, with one last monstrous swing, decapitated two Wolves at once. First one, then three, then five. The move nearly sent her to her knees but she stayed standing, obstinate, swaying slightly.
Only a handful lingered, backing away reluctantly. Mason wondered what was waiting for them, having failed their mission.
"You fight," one of them said, a tall man gripping a broken bottle in bloody fingers. "You fight for nothing. You deserve nothing. Pathetic sheep."
He threw the bottle as the Wolves retreated for the busted gate. Eugene got the shield up just in time, and it shattered harmlessly against it, but even this effort left him staggered, fatigued as he was.
It was the last straw for Mason.
A snarl burst out of her and she raced after them. The edges of her vision blurred a bit, a scream building in her head like a whirlwind. She hooked her scythe through the shoulder of the man and jarred him to a halt. He strained forward, breaking free of the blade, but it didn't matter. Mason was on him in a second.
Grabbing him by the hair, she smashed his face into the pavement. Once, twice, again. The screaming in her head overflowed. She opened her mouth and gave voice to it.
In the silence that followed, she caught one last glimpse of the Wolves as they fled into the trees, the one in the dead mask eyeing Mason a heartbeat longer before disappearing with them.
A/N: So one of the main reasons I was nervous about this chapter was because I didn't want it to seem too similar to "JSS" in the show. I wanted there to be parallels, but not just...a straight up repeat. Hopefully I accomplished that. Anyway, thanks so much again for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and until next time! xoxo