CHAPTER 15
Rick was following Sora down the hallway when he stopped in his tracks. "Wait a minute," he whispered.
Sora stopped walking and turned profile.
"Do you hear that?" Rick asked.
Sora raised his head and he heard the sound more clearly.
It was the sounds of voices; familiar voices.
Rick looked to his right, and saw an open doorway that led to a waiting room. Above the doorway was a sign that read: THE EL DORADO RESTURANTE.
Rick peeked inside and saw it was a waiting room. The set of French doors had white curtains and the doors had their stoppers set. On both sides of the room were wooden benches; across the room was another set of French doors, with their curtains down, and beside the doors was a menu board.
Rick stepped back into the hallway and looked at Sora, who had a puzzled look on his face. The two men entered the waiting room and walked over to the final set of French doors. Rick stuck his Glock 19 pistol with the Maglite suppressor at the small of his back, reached for the door handles, turned them, and pushed the doors open.
The opened doors revealed the El Dorado's restaurant. There were dozens of circular tables covered in white linen, and a red carpet with the casino's logo of a golden Aztec pyramid printed randomly upon it. In the center of the far wall was an emergency exit, and in-between it was a row of windows that would offer a picturesque view of the Atlanta skyline, but their curtains were down, providing the illusion that the El Dorado was abandoned. But of more interest to Rick and Sora, was that the voices they heard belonged to their people: they were seated, four to a table, talking, eating grilled chicken sandwiches, and drinking Coca-Cola or beer like friends eating out on a weekend.
The two exceptions at this pleasant meal were Daryl and Juan.
Daryl sat on a table by the windows, with a sandwich in his hands, a Coors Light beer at his left side, and his poncho draped over a chair while his Stryker Strykezone 380 crossbow leaned atop it at his right side.
A melancholy Juan sat with John, Floyd, and Sam, sipping a Dos Equis beer, while a sandwich laid untouched and going cold on a dish.
Rick spotted Carl and Michonne at the table in front of him; Carl sat with his back to the French doors, and his battered Stetson hat was set atop the chair's right finial. Michonne was seated to the left and she had removed her sheathed katana and hooded cape, and slung them both over the back of her chair.
The prison group, The Woodbury group, and the El Dorado group realized the French doors had opened, and they looked up or turned around in their chairs to see the new arrivals.
Carl looked over his shoulder with a half-eaten sandwich in his hands. "Hey, Dad," he garbled with a mouthful of food, "you've got to try one of these sandwhich—"
"What is going on here?" Sora interrupted as he took an authoritative step forward.
Alonso put the remnants of his sandwich down on his plate, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and stood up from his chair.
"Ah. Well, sir, we—I mean "I"—though that these people must be hungry, and since I was going to start cooking dinner in half an hour—"
"You should have consulted with me," Sora interrupted curtly.
"Ah, yes," Alonso said while twisting his napkin nervously. "But you were playing cards with that police officer—"
"It was a poor game, Alonso."
"Yes, sir," Alonso said as he nodded quickly.
Rick would be the first to admit he wasn't a gambler, but he immediately felt insulted by Sora's statement and tone of voice. You arrogant son of a bitch, he though while glaring at the Japanese gambler.
"Nevertheless, Alonso," Sora said as he walked further into the restaurant, "I have decided that Officer Grimes and his associates are our guests, so I will overlook your impudent generosity. Now sit down and listen carefully…I have an announcement to make."
"Yes, sir," Alonso repeated before sitting down in his chair.
Rick looked at the others in the casino group, and saw their eyes (especially Nate's) held a mixture of fear and resignation. They're afraid of Miyaguchi, but they've accepted the way they live. Will they join me like I warned they would or will they stay loyal to him?
"All right. Officer Grimes—like most of you before him— did his best to defeat me at poker, but his best was not enough," Sora said as he began pacing the restaurant with his sheathed katana in his left hand, "he did, however, present me with a deal."
Rick watched Sora's pacing with growing apprehension. He's being more dramatic than necessary.
"A deal, boss?" Harold asked with interest.
"Yes, Mr. Singleton, a very intriguing one," Sora answered to his second-in-command.
"What is it?" Julia asked.
"Maybe Rick and his people are part of a larger group, and the deal was to protect this casino in exchange for room and board," Alonso suggested.
"Yeah, and maybe that larger group is a bunch of cops," Frankie added as he scratched his chin in thought.
Across the room, Daryl snorted in amusement. Everyone (except Juan) turned around and looked at the redneck, but he ignored them and took another bite of his sandwich.
"Wait a Goddamn minute," John asked as he stood up from his chair and looked at Rick. "You offered this Jap bastard a deal?"
Rick put his hands on his hips and shook his head. Dammit, John, this isn't the time for you to get riled up, he thought angrily.
"I advise you to watch your tongue, sir, otherwise you will soon find it cut out of your mouth," Sora warned as he came to a stop beside John.
John glared at Sora, but when he saw the cold determination in the Japanese gambler's eyes, he unsnapped his holster's retaining strap, and wrapped his fingers around the grip of his Colt M1911A1 pistol.
After watching John's actions, a small grin appeared on Sora's face, and with his left thumb against his katana's handguard, he pushed the sword forward, exposing an inch of sharp steel in preparation of drawing the whole sword out for a fight.
Michonne stood up from her chair and stood in between the two men. "Stop it," she ordered.
"He's the one being the asshole," John argued.
"Have you already forgotten that I allowed your group to stay in my casino?" Sora retorted. "Are all Americans as dense as you?"
"You'd be a better host if you'd stop being snide," Michonne said to Sora.
Sora returned the half-drawn katana to its scabbard and bowed to Michonne. "Forgive me. The duty of protecting my associates has made my tone harsh."
Michonne looked at John and nodded for him to sit down. The Vietnam veteran cast one final glare at Sora before returning to his chair. As Michonne walked back to her own chair, she looked at Rick, and he nodded in gratitude for what she had said and done.
"Officer Grimes, however, doesn't appear to have the same trouble as I," Sora said as he resumed pacing the restaurant, "Perhaps it is best if Officer Grimes tells you all about our deal, and where exactly he and his group comes from."
Everyone (except for Juan) looked from Sora to Rick.
You son of a bitch, Rick thought as he glared at Sora. You agreed to my deal, but you're trying to make me look bad in the eyes of your group! You want them to throw us out, and then you all can lock those doors and spend your lives in this casino!
Sora smiled smugly at Rick, and then he pulled up a chair from an empty table, sat down, and held his katana like a mechanical figure on a watchtower, waiting for the bell to strike.
"You made a deal, Dad?" Carl asked. "Are we going to be moving here?"
Carl's question brought Rick out of his thoughts. "No, son, we're not."
"Hey, hey. Time out," Frankie said as he made the time-out signal with his hands. "Just where the hell are you guys from?"
"Yeah, and what do you want from us?" Julie asked.
"It better be directions out of town, because what we have, we aim to keep," Harold warned as he drew his Glock 17 pistol and placed it on top of his table.
Across the restaurant, Daryl chewed on the last bite of his sandwich, wiped his hands clean and picked up his crossbow. "Liquor and guns don't mix, Hoss; better holster that pistol while you're still clear-headed," he warned Harold.
Harold looked over his left shoulder and saw Daryl holding his crossbow in his hands. A moment later Harold slowly took his pistol off the table, and re-holstered it.
"All right, everyone calm down. Daryl, lower your crossbow," Rick ordered.
The El Dorado group and the Woodbury group glanced at each other nervously, while the prison group and Sora appeared calm, Juan barely registered that a fight almost broke out. Daryl placed his crossbow across his lap, and everyone looked at Rick.
Miyaguchi may have agreed to a deal in private, but he doesn't want to leave this casino and he wants his group to get back on his page and vote us out, Rick thought. I can't be evasive with them; I have to tell them the truth.
"All right, for the El Dorado group, I can assure you that we have no intentions of moving in. What we really came for were supplies."
Harold snorted in amusement. "You should've taken the next exit, Rick, it leads to the supermarket."
The El Dorado group chuckled nervously, while Sora sat and watched silently along with Rick's and John's groups.
Rick nodded as the El Dorado group's laughter faded away. "Thanks, Harold, but now that it's been a full year into the end of the world, I thought places like supermarkets and shopping malls would be cleared out. You guys have made supply runs. I'm sure you've been struggling to find what you need lately."
The El Dorado group glanced at each other again and nodded.
"I was a truck driver before the world went to shit," Harold said. "I made pick-ups and deliveries to stores and warehouses across Atlanta, and I'm running out of places that haven't been ransacked."
"Yeah, it's getting harder to find stuff," Alonso added.
"And most of the people we've lost were during supply runs," Julie said sadly.
The El Dorado group lowered their heads and even dried their eyes as they remembered the people they lost since this place of entertainment became their home. Sora however, didn't even blink.
"They're good people," Nate smiled as he gestured towards his group. "They found me when they went to a police station to pick up some guns."
"Were you on the crapper that time, too?" John quipped.
"No man, I saw Sam drive up in his rig, and I….well…" Nate's voice trailed off, and he lowered his head again.
"Well what?" Karen asked.
Nate looked up at her and said. "I…I couldn't deal with being alone anymore."
Nearly everyone in the restaurant lowered their heads in understanding at Nate's fear of being alone; the exceptions were Sora, who remained stoic; and Juan, who was staring at his empty bottle of Dos Equis.
Rick waited a few moments before he raised his head and resumed his speech. "I talked with Mr. Miyaguchi during our card game and I told him my people and I are here for food and gasoline. I also made him an offer: if we're given the supplies we need, you all may join us."
The El Dorado group looked at Sora, who sat still as a wax figure. They then glanced at each other, and Singleton looked at Rick. "Joining you where?" he asked.
Rick looked at Carl, Michonne, and Daryl: Carl and Michonne nodded, but Daryl shook his head. Rick looked at Singleton and answered, "A prison."
The El Dorado group looked at each other again and began muttering worriedly. Sora sat still as a wax figure.
Rick looked at Carl and Michonne, who were both waiting for the casino group to make their decision, and then he looked at Daryl, who huffed angrily. I've got to win them over and force Miyaguchi to accept the deal, Rick thought.
"A prison?" Frankie asked in disbelief. "That's where you guys are hiding out?"
"Yes," Rick answered with a nod. "At the time I thought it was best not to give Mr. Miyaguchi details, but that's our home now."
"Are you saying you don't trust him?" Alonso asked as he thumbed over his shoulder towards his group's leader.
"I'm saying I don't know him," Rick answered.
Sora raised his head slightly, as if he were insulted by Rick's honesty.
"But…the important thing is you've got walls, right?" Alonso asked.
"We do. And we have a new gate; just installed it yesterday," Rick said as he looked down and winked at Carl.
"Walls, a fence, a gate, and land; sounds like heaven," Harold smiled.
The El Dorado group muttered amongst themselves excitedly. Rick glanced down at Carl and Michonne, and they both looked up at him hopefully. Rick looked over at Daryl, but he seemed irritated, like he didn't like the idea of a compromise with Sora.
I don't care what you think about this deal, Daryl, we need those supplies, Rick thought.
"Hey, If you have a prison, there's got to be inmates," Nate said worriedly.
Rick thought back to finding the five surviving inmates locked inside the prison cafeteria: Tomas, Andrew, Big Tiny, Oscar, and Axel. "No, not anymore," he answered.
John laughed and everyone in the restaurant looked at him. "That's a matter of opinion," he said.
Rick glared at John; so did Carl, Michonne, and Daryl.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Harold asked.
"Why don't you ask Sam?" John answered as he pointed at his fellow Woodburian. "Better yet, ask him how he got those bruises on his face."
The El Dorado group looked at Sam, who blushed and pulled his slouch hat down over his face to cover up his bruises.
"Who beat you, Sam?" Julia asked gently.
From underneath the brim of his hat, Sam looked at Julia. A fire lit in his eyes and he sat up straight. "It was him!" he shouted as he pointed an accusatory finger at Rick.
The El Dorado group began muttering amongst each other more loudly and more worriedly. Rick looked at Sora and saw he was still seated, but smiling like a cat that caught a canary.
"You beat this old guy?" Frankie asked Rick in disbelief.
"You son of a bitch," Alonso spat at Rick.
"He's just an old man, Rick," Harold said in a tone that sounded like a disappointed friend.
"Did you beat people when you were a cop, too?" Julia asked angrily.
"I never beat a suspect in my entire career," Rick answered firmly.
Floyd pounded his fist on the table suddenly, making Sam leap in his chair, and Juan sit up straight. Floyd's bottle of beer tipped over and the contents spilled across the table.
"But you did put a gun to my head!" Floyd shouted at Rick.
Julia gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, while the rest of the El Dorado group looked at Rick like he was a monster; from his chair, Sora grinned.
Carl, Michonne, and Daryl glared at Sam and Floyd, but they were too flush with courage to notice.
"You are a fucking klutz," John muttered angrily at Floyd as he took his napkin and dabbed it onto the puddle of spilled beer.
"I can…I can explain all of that," Rick stammered.
"I do not believe explanations are necessary, Officer Grimes," Sora said as he stood up from his chair. "While your offer to let us join your prison in exchange for supplies was tempting, I have decided it would be best that we remain here."
Rick's hands dropped to his sides and they balled into fists. You're showing your hand now, he thought.
"You and your group may stay the night, but in the morning return to your prison; you may take the gasoline you all will need for the journey, but you all will not take any food," Sora announced.
Carl and Michonne stood up and put their hands on their weapons while Daryl slid off the table and raised his crossbow. Singleton stood up too and began to draw his pistol from its holster.
At the Woodburian's two tables, Floyd, Sam, Tyreese, and Karen watched the standoff nervously; John drew his pistol discretely, while Juan watched as beads of sweat formed on his head. Por favor, Dios. Not again, he thought.
Daryl whistled and Harold looked over his shoulder slowly and saw the redneck aiming down the barrel of his crossbow. The truck driver nodded, and raised his hands slowly in defeat.
"All right, everyone stay calm. What Sam and Floyd said was true…partially." Rick said.
The El Dorado group and Woodbury group began to relax slowly, but Sora remained stoic. Michonne placed a hand on Carl's shoulder, he looked up at her, and she nodded. Carl sat down in his chair, and Michonne sat down beside him.
"There seems to be more truth than fiction in their tales, Officer Grimes," Sora retorted.
"I can explain myself."
"It is too late for that."
"We made a deal, Mr. Miyaguchi."
"I have reconsidered."
Rick's fingernails cut into the palms of his hand and his eyes turned red as he glared at Sora. "What was all that bullshit about 'the grains of sand in the hourglass' running out on this casino?"
"The fact about an hourglass that most people forget, Officer Grimes, is that they can be turned over and refilled," Sora explained. "What my associates and I really need are people, and perhaps we have found some recruits in your group, especially with these two men you assaulted recently."
Rick shook his head in disgust. And that's the ace you've been hiding up your sleeve, he thought.
Floyd's and Sam's eyes lit up like Broadway at the sound of Sora's offer of sanctuary. John's, Tyreese's and Karen's jaws dropped in disbelief, while Juan was finally giving the debate between Rick and Sora his undivided attention.
Carl glared at Sora. Michonne glared at Floyd and Sam. Daryl spat onto the carpeted floor in contempt.
"No shit?" Sam asked excitedly.
"You're…you're kidding, right?" Floyd stammered in disbelief.
"Hardly," Sora answered with a warm smile.
"Did you hear that, John?" Floyd asked as he turned towards the self-proclaimed leader of the Woodburians. "We can stay here, in a brand new casino!"
John leapt up so quickly, his chair fell over. "I can't stay here!" he cried.
"Why the hell not?"
"Because Donna is waiting for me back at the prison!"
"Do not worry," Sora said as he stood up from his chair. "Your wife is welcome to join you here. And, if anyone else has loved ones back at the prison, they are welcome here, too. I am sure Officer Grimes will be relieved to have fewer lives to feed and to protect."
"This isn't right!" Carl shouted as he leapt out of his chair.
For the first time, a surprised look appeared on Sora's face.
Michonne stood up again, but before she could speak to Carl, Rick placed a hand on his son's shoulder to get his attention. "It's all right, Carl. I'll—"
"Do you want to want to know what really happened between my dad and those two cowards?" Carl interrupted.
Sora sighed irritably. "I have heard enough—"
"He," Carl interrupted, pointing at Sam, "tried to steal our guns!"
"What?! Hey, I had to! Wait! I mean, I didn't…" Sam stammered.
"And he," Carl interrupted again, and this time he was pointing at Floyd, "tried to kill my dad!"
"But I didn't know…I mean, I thought he was…"Floyd pleaded.
"If Mr. Boyd hadn't been looking out for those two cowards they would've been dead a long time ago!"
"I can't argue with that," John grinned as he looked at Floyd and Sam.
"My dad took Mr. Boyd and his people into the prison. I was angry when he did," Carl said. "I don't trust Mr. Boyd, Sam, and Floyd, but I don't think all of his people are bad.
"I do know Tyreese," Carl said as he looked at the former NFL player. "I saved him and his sister Sasha from walkers when they snuck inside the prison. They're good. They're brave. They help us keep the prison safe.
"If you want Sam and Floyd to stay in this casino so badly, how about we make a new deal? Them for the good people in your group!"
Carl—his anger vented—fell silent, but he kept glaring at Sora. Everyone in the restaurant looked at the boy. Rick and Michonne appeared proud. Daryl appeared amused. Sora appeared furious, the others appeared to be surprised.
After a few moments, Sora looked at Rick and said, "Perhaps I have been too hospitable. Perhaps it would best if all of you just vacated—"
"Excuse me, Boss?" Harold asked cautiously.
"Yes, Mr. Singleton?"
"I believe the boy."
Sora looked at his second-in-command and blinked. "You do?"
"The boy stood up for his daddy, and wouldn't back down when he was told to."
"Is that all?"
The truck driver glared at Sam and Floyd like he recognized them as a pair of men who had cut him off on the highway that morning. "Well, those two didn't exactly talk like a pair of angels, did they?"
"Hey, I wasn't going to hurt the kid!" Sam shouted as he stood up from his chair.
"And I was scared!" Floyd shouted as he stood up too. "We were being attacked by walkers! I didn't know it was Rick!"
Carl flashed a victorious smile, while the expressions on Rick's and Michonne's faces grew prouder. John, still seated, shook his head at Floyd's and Sam's stupidity.
The El Dorado group glanced at each other. Julia wrung her hands together and said, "Mr. Miyaguchi. I…I think you should take Rick's offer."
Sora looked at Julia and blinked; his mouth dropped open slightly. "Excuse me?" he asked.
"Well, the casino is safe and all. But it's in the city, and..." Julia explained nervously.
"I think Julia's right, sir," Alonso said. "There's just six of us left. Rick's people broke in like that (Alonso snapped his fingers for emphasis) and there's a city filled with walking corpses outside the doors."
"We should leave with Rick and his group," Nate said with a nod.
"Yeah," Frankie agreed eagerly. "Pardon my French, but let's get the fuck out of here."
Sora looked at his second-in-command and asked, "What is your opinion, Mr. Singleton?"
Harold looked at the other members of the El Dorado group, turned to his leader, and answered. "If we're ever going to leave this casino, this deal—and that cop—are the best chances we've got."
Rick was careful not to show any emotions, but he thought, I've got them.
Sora gripped his sheathed katana tightly, closed his eyes, and lowered his head. As the Japanese gambler meditated, everyone in the restaurant waited patiently for his decision.
After a few minutes, Sora raised his head, opened his eyes, and stared ahead with conviction. "For the past sixteen years I have made a career out of playing the odds. Sometimes the odds were in my favor, sometimes they were not.
"When the Oni arrived in Atlanta, the El Dorado's executives and most of its guests fled out into the unknown. I stayed. I stayed because I played the odds and I knew the best chance for survival was to stay here, and I was right. Our previous leaders are dead, but I survived, so have you all…my associates."
Sora turned towards his group, looked at them for a few moments, and said, "I do not agree with all of you that leaving the El Dorado is our best chance for survival, but if it is what all of you want, I—as your leader—must consent."
Sora looked at Rick and asked, "Officer Grimes, if the deal you offered me earlier still stands…I accept it."
Rick looked back at Sora. It pains you to say that doesn't it, you son of a bitch? He thought, but Rick smiled and said, "It certainly is."
"Good," Sora said in the tone of a man accepting bad news, "you and your group enjoy your dinner. Julia!"
"Yes?" Julia asked.
"When our guests finish their dinner, show them to their rooms."
"Got it," Julia said with a thumbs-up.
"Mr. Tatum," Sora said.
Nate flinched in his chair and looked wide-eyed at his group's leader. "Yes, sir?"
"You will resume guard duty."
"Yes, sir."
"And when Frank relives you in the morning, I would appreciate it if you stopped by my office."
Nate gulped fearfully, and lowered his head as Sora walked out of the restaurant.
Singleton got out of his chair, slung his MK 18 Mod 0 assault carbine over his shoulder, and looked down at Nate. "I'll talk to him," the truck driver said.
Nate smiled nervously and nodded in appreciation at Singleton, who smiled in return and walked out of the restaurant.
Julia was the next one from the El Dorado group to get out of her chair. "All right, who's finished their sandwiches?"
"Me!" Carl said as he raised his hand.
"I am," John said.
"Same here," Karen said.
Tyreese nodded.
"I'm pretty much done," Sam said, staring at the last bite of grilled chicken sandwich.
Daryl, sitting on his table with his crossbow across his lap, grunted in the affirmative.
"Good. I'll show you all to your rooms," Julia said.
Julia picked her Ithaca 37 "stakeout" shotgun up from the floor, rested the long barrel against her shoulder like she was about to enter a shooting range, and waited for the others to collect their things.
Tyreese and Karen got out of their chairs, and picked their weapons up from the floor. John, Floyd, and Sam stood up and picked up their jackets from the backs of their chairs. Daryl slid off his table, slung his crossbow over his back, picked up his poncho, and tucked it under his arm.
Floyd slipped his jacket on and noticed that Juan was staring at his half empty bottle of Dos Equis beer. "Are you coming, Juan?"
Juan blinked a few times and looked up at Floyd. "Si, un minuto."
Floyd patted Juan's shoulder and left the table along with John and Sam.
Daryl walked across the restaurant, and as he was going passed Rick, he muttered, "This is a Goddamn mistake."
That's what I'm afraid of, Rick thought as he watched Daryl follow Julia, Tyreese, Karen, and the Woodburians out of the restaurant.
"Well, I need a new bottle," Frankie said as he stood up and swirled his empty bottle of Bud Light. "Watch my plate, Alonso?"
"Uh, yeah, Frankie," Alonso said, slightly annoyed he was being made to guard a half-eaten sandwich in a nearly empty restaurant.
As Frankie walked out of the restaurant, Rick turned around and looked at Carl and Michonne, the mysterious woman had slung her sheathed katana over her back and was bundling up her hooded cape.
"You really have to try one of those sandwiches, Dad," Carl said.
Rick shrugged. "I don't have much of an appetite right now, Carl."
"Give it a shot," Michonne said with a smile. "It was great to eat real food after…I can't remember how long."
"Okay, okay. But you two should go upstairs, find some beds and get some sleep."
"Can't I stay here a while, Dad?" Carl asked.
"You've already ate, Carl, and if you're going to stay in a restaurant after you've eaten that's considered loitering, and that's a crime," Rick answered with a smile.
"Yeah, but I'd like to stay and talk with you. That is…if that's okay."
Rick smiled bashfully and looked at Michonne. "I can't refuse that request, can I?"
Michonne smiled in return. "No, you can't."
Rick reached behind his back, pulled out his Glock 19 with the Maglite suppressor, and placed it on the table; then he removed his jacked, draped it over a chair, and sat down. Michonne smiled as she looked at Rick sitting next to Carl, and then she walked out of the restaurant.
"Can I get you something to eat, Officer?" Alonso asked.
"Please, if it's not any trouble," Rick answered.
"No trouble at all," Alonso said as he stood up and walked towards the kitchen door. "I didn't survive all this shit just to stare at some lazy Italian kid's sandwich."
Alonso stepped inside the kitchen, leaving Rick, Carl, Nate, and Juan the only survivors inside the restaurant.
•••
Nate noticed that Juan still hadn't touched his own sandwich, so the young ADA stood up, walked over to Juan's table, and sat down.
"Are you okay, sir? I mean, señor?" Nate asked.
Juan looked at the young black man and smiled. "I speak English fine. And sí, I am okay."
"So why do you look so down?"
Juan blinked. "I look depressed?"
Nate chuckled. "If anyone ought to be depressed it's me."
"Why do you say that?"
Nate looked around the restaurant and seeing the coast was clear, leaned closer to Juan. "Well, Miyaguchi's a good leader, but he's damn strict when it comes to failure. If I'm lucky, Sam'll talk him into putting a cane to my ass."
Juan looked at Rick, listening to his son talk excitedly. "Sí, if you're lucky," he muttered.
Nate blinked. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
Juan gestured at Rick. "Do you trust him?"
Nate looked to his left at Rick, and looked back at Juan. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, Rick could've killed me, but he didn't."
"Sí, he didn't kill you. Not yet."
Nate's eyes widened. "What?"
For a moment, Juan thought about the night he followed Philip into that camp of survivors. He had been so trusting, so naïve.
"Is Rick keeping secrets? Secrets my people should know about?" Nate asked worriedly.
Nate's question pulled Juan out of his memories. He leaned forward and held the young man's wrist. "When are you relieved from guard duty?" he asked.
"Eleven o'clock. Why?"
"Meet me here at that time and I'll tell you everything."