CHAPTER 25
Daryl rode his Triumph Bonneville chopper motorcycle up the exit ramp and parked it behind the Dodge Grand Caravan. It was at that moment he noticed Rick and Alonso standing outside the minivan with their hands up. Daryl killed the motorcycle's engine and started to reach for his Colt Official Police revolver that was holstered to the gun belt wrapped around the handlebars, when Juan climbed out of the minivan with Alonzo's Beretta M9 pistol in his hand.
Juan saw Daryl from the corner of his left eye and turned towards the redneck. "Keep your hands away from that gun, asshole!" he ordered.
Daryl's hand froze.
"Off the bike!"
Daryl climbed off his motorcycle and put his hands up.
"Move!" Juan ordered as he swung the pistol towards the survivors for emphasis.
Daryl kept his hands up and moved to join the survivors standing on the highway, his Stryker Strykezone 380 crossbow was still slung over his back.
Carl ran past Michonne and to Rick's side; the boy wrapped his arms around him, and his father put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder.
Alonso kept his hands in the air as he walked quickly towards Julia and Nate.
"Where's Harold?" Julia asked worriedly.
Alonso stood in-between his two compatriots; Nate was on his right, Julia was on his left. He tilted his head slightly towards the young woman and answered, "He's dead."
Julia gasped and tears began to form in her eyes. "How?" she whispered.
"With all due respect to Harold…we've got more urgent concerns other than the details about our friend's death."
John drove the Dodge Silverado pickup truck up the exit ramp and parked beside Daryl's motorcycle. The driver's side window came down and John stuck his head out. "What the hell are you doing, Juan?" he asked.
Juan ignored the question and shouted, "Get out of the truck, John!"
John looked at the survivors and then he looked at Juan again. "Is this some kind of a joke?"
"Get out now," Juan said firmly.
John killed the truck's engine, opened the driver's side door, and climbed out.
"Your gun; throw it into the truck," Juan ordered.
John looked at Rick, and the sheriff's deputy nodded. John drew his Colt M1911A1 pistol slowly, and tossed it into the truck's cab.
"Now put your hands up and stand over there with the others."
John put his hands up and walked over to the survivors. "Have you gone crazy, Juan?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, amigo, but when this is over you'll understand," Juan said.
"I hope your wife understands, Juan," Rick said.
"She will, Rick," Juan nodded. "She will."
Juan looked at the survivors lined up in front of him and saw Michonne holding a Glock 17 pistol in her right hand. "Drop the gun, Michonne," he ordered.
Michonne glared at Juan and remained still.
"I don't want to shoot you, but I will if I have to."
Michonne knelt down, put her pistol on the ground, and stood up with her hands in the air.
Next Juan looked at Karen, held onto her M4A1 rifle nervously. "Karen, drop the rifle."
Unlike Michonne, Karen nodded; she then knelt down, put the rifle on the ground, and stood up with her hands in the air.
Rick looked to his right and left at the other survivors. "Relax everybody. I'm the one he wants."
The survivors glanced at each other quizzically and then they looked at Juan.
Carl took his hands away from Rick's waist and faced Juan. "You're…you're going to kill my dad?" he asked quietly.
Juan looked at the ground and his shoulders slumped.
Carl thought about the Governor, and then he thought about Sora Miyaguchi, a moment later his hands balled into fists. "If you kill my dad, I'll kill you," he threatened.
Juan lifted his head and some fire returned to his eyes. "I'm sorry, niño. I have to do it."
"This illegal left his brains in Mexico," Daryl quipped.
"Fuck you, gringo!" Juan shouted as he aimed his pistol at Daryl. "I haven't forgotten that you killed Floyd! I might just shoot you next!"
Daryl kept his hands in the air, but he showed no fear of Juan's threat.
"Floyd tried to kill Rick to win Sora's favor," Michonne explained. "And you heard that psychopath say Daryl and I were next. Do you think your friend would've objected to killing us too?"
Juan looked at Michonne, and lowered his gun slightly.
"And I overheard Sora's plan after he took Carl hostage: he was going to abandon his group and take Carl along in a truck he secretly loaded up with supplies! After Sora forced Carl to tell him where the prison is, he was going to cut off his arm, kill him, and tell everyone at the prison that Carl was bitten by a walker while the rest of us got swarmed!
That's the man Floyd tried to impress, Juan. So if you still want to kill Rick, you're a bigger fool than Floyd."
The three surviving members of the El Dorado group lowered their hands slightly and exchanged stunned glances.
"I thought we could trust him. I thought he would keep us safe," Julia whispered as she trembled slightly.
"All the people who were lost out here or executed in there," Alonso muttered as he nodded at the El Dorado.
"That motherfucker bluffed us like our lives were a card game," Nate said bitterly.
Juan lowered his head again and felt that his fingers around the grip of the pistol had begun to sweat.
Rick saw the remorse on Juan's face, so he took his hand away from Carl's shoulder and took a cautious step forward. "Juan," he said quietly.
Juan raised his head and looked at Rick.
"Put the gun down," Rick said.
Juan blinked and he felt the gun in his hand was now getting slippery to hold onto.
"I know you don't trust me, Juan, but I'm asking you to trust me now," Rick urged. "I'm sorry that Floyd's dead and that Sam's hurt, but my own son was kidnapped and beaten. I said this supply run would be easy, but I was wrong. I'm sorry, Juan. I'm sorry things didn't work out like I said they would, but now we have to get on the road and back to the prison."
Rick Grimes always knows the right thing to say. So did Sora Miyaguchi. So did Philip Blake…The Governor, Juan though as he stared at the prison group's leader.
The images of that night a year ago in the hills of Georgia flashed through Juan's mind.
•••
It was the first night Juan and his wife Marianna had joined Philip Blake's group. Their affable leader had returned to camp with the news that he found another group of survivors nearby.
"There's not a lot of people, but there's plenty of supplies, and we'll need both if we're going to make it to Ft. Benning," Philip said.
Philip asked Juan if he'd go with him and Nick and convince this group to join theirs, but Juan was uncertain.
"Let me put it this way: if you're going to stay with us, you need to contribute," Philip grinned.
•••
Philip, Nick, and Juan climbed into the Dodge Grand Caravan, and he drove them along an empty road for several miles, then he pulled over and they climbed out with their firearms in hand. Philip took out his flashlight pointed its beam toward a rocky path that led uphill.
"Are you prepared to kill?" Philip asked Juan.
"Sí?" Juan asked.
"Are you prepared to kill?" Philip repeated.
Beads of sweat ran down Juan's forehead. The shotgun in his hands felt as heavy as an anchor.
"Are you prepared to kill to protect Marianna?"
"Sí!" I'm prepared to kill!" Juan answered.
Philip flashed his friendly smiled and patted Juan on the shoulder. "Good," he said.
The three men started to walk up the hill, with the beam of Philip's flashlight leading the way.
•••
Philip, Nick, and Juan were standing on the edge of darkness, watching four young men sitting around a large campfire, while a fifth one stood at a barbecue grille, cooking hamburgers. They looked like they were enjoying a camping trip instead of trying to survive the end of the world. Philip signaled for him and Nick to stay put, and he walked into the light of the campfire with the barrel of his AR15 rifle aimed at the ground.
The young men screamed in fear as they leapt up or fell back at the sudden appearance of an armed stranger.
Philip smiled. "I'm sorry. I was out hunting and smelled the smoke from your campfire."
•••
Philip charmed the group of young men like he had charmed everyone else. Their leader was a rich college kid named Lance Keaton; the others included his little brother Bryan, and his friends, Caden, Kurt, and Sean. They were dirt bike enthusiasts and were going to wait out the end of the world atop this mountain. Philip called Nick and Juan out of the darkness and now everyone sat around the large campfire, laughing, eating hamburgers, and drinking beer.
Juan and Bryan were the only ones not celebrating, because they both knew something bad was about to happen.
"You told us earlier that you put your weapons away because you were going to eat dinner. If—and I know it's a big if—the biters climb up this mountain, what do you have to defend yourselves?" Philip asked.
Lance left the campfire and ran into one of the tents pitched in the background. A few moments later he ran back with a bullpup style assault rifle.
"Check this out, it's the Steyr AUG A1 assault rifle!" Lance said happily. "It fires 5.56x45mm ammo and takes a 30-round magazine! "I've watched my dad shoot this baby and it's a badass!"
Philip turned to Nick and nodded. Nick put his half-eaten hamburger down on the ground. Philip then looked at Lance again and smiled. "Well, you gentlemen certainly don't need us," he said.
Philip drew his nickel plated Beretta 92B Compact pistol, aimed it at Lance, and pulled the trigger.
BLAM!
The bullet hit Lance in the chest; he dropped the Steyr AUG A1 and fell to the ground.
Luis and Bryan screamed in unison.
Lance's college friends leapt to their feet in shock.
Nick grabbed his AR-15 rifle, aimed it at Sean, and fired.
BRAKKA! BRAKKA! BRAKKA!
•••
The smell of gunpowder now mixed with the smell of the burning logs on the large campfire. Lance lied on the ground, gasping for air, Bryan remained were he sat, shivering in fear, Sean, Kurt, and Caden were dead.
Philip looked at the frightened teenager and lowered his pistol. He turned his head to the right. "Nick," he said quietly.
Nick raised his rifle to his shoulder, aimed it at Bryan, and pulled the trigger.
BRAKKA!
The bullet struck Bryan in the forehead, and his head burst open. The rest of his body collapsed to his right at his wounded brother's feet.
•••
Philip stood over the wounded Lance. He aimed his pistol at the young man's forehead, and pulled the trigger.
BLAM!
The bullet went through Lance's forehead, and a small, thin stream of blood and brain matter shot up into the air and just missed hitting Philip.
•••
"Why did you kill them?!" Juan asked as he stood up.
Philip looked at Juan. "For the supplies and the gas. I didn't want to kill them, but that's the way the world works now."
•••
"Juan," a nearby voice called.
The voice pulled Juan out of his flashes of memory, and he saw Rick with his hand out, walking towards him slowly and cautiously.
The distant expression on Juan's face was replaced by an enraged one; he tightened his grip on the pistol and aimed it at Rick. "Move back!" he ordered.
Rick froze; all of the survivors except Daryl and Michonne gasped in shock. Carl tried to run to his father, but Michonne grabbed the boy and pulled him back.
"All right, Juan," Rick said as he nodded.
"Move the fuck back!"
Rick nodded again and moved backwards slowly; when he returned to his spot amongst the line of survivors, Carl put his arms around his arms around his waist again.
"You…you're just like the Governor and Miyaguchi," Juan said through his cleaned teeth.
Rick stared at Juan. "What?" he asked in bewilderment.
"You, the Governor and Miyaguchi; always knowing the right things to say," Juan explained. "You meet some desperate people on the road or some desperate people break into your casino, and you smile and say to them, 'Hello, friends. Sit down and have a meal. The dead—whatever you want to call them—demons, biters, walkers, oni, are gaining in numbers. You can join our group, we'd be happy to have you with us. But before you do, let's get one thing straight: I'm in charge'."
Rick shook his head. "No," he retorted, "I didn't ask for this."
"I've seen how you run things long enough to know you didn't refuse it either," Juan said contemptuously.
Rick thought about Shane Walsh, his best friend and partner in the King County Sheriff's Department, flashed before his eyes. "I…I had to accept it. Their first leader—my friend—he…wasn't good at it; there were people who got trapped or left behind in Atlanta, but he just gave up on them."
"What happened to him?"
The memory of that last night on Hershel's farm flashed through Rick's mind: he and Shane standing in a field with the full moon above them.
To Rick, there was no point in justifying what he did that night.
Rick couldn't say that Shane had freed Randall and later killed the scavenger in a plan to kill him.
Rick couldn't say that Shane lured him into the woods with the story that the group's prisoner Randall had escaped, and how insistent Shane was on the two of them splitting up from Daryl and Glenn, and how nervous he seemed the deeper they walked into the woods.
And more importantly, Rick couldn't say that before the walkers appeared, he had been in a coma after being shot in the line of duty. His wife Lori thought he died when the hospital he was being cared for was overrun by walkers, and she started an affair with Shane. The affair ended when Rick reunited with his family, but Lori became pregnant soon after and there was no way to know if Rick or Shane was the father.
None of those details would've mattered to Juan, nor did they ever assuage the guilt Rick felt over what he'd done. The image and the sound of his knife entering Shane's heart ran through Rick's head; he looked up at Juan and answered plainly, "I killed him."
Carl and Daryl remained still; Michonne looked at Rick silently, and the other survivors mumbled amongst themselves nervously.
Juan grinned triumphantly and jabbed at the air with the Beretta M9 pistol like he was putting a period to the end of a sentence. "Did you all hear that?" he asked the survivors. "Rick Grimes is a killer!"
"The law recognizes that a person has the right of self-defense," Michonne said plainly.
Juan grumbled and wiped his left hand down his face. "Madre Dios, this isn't a courtroom, Michonne!"
"No, it's not. But if you want to kill Rick, I'm going to defend him any way I can."
"Rick doesn't deserve your loyalty."
"Rick does deserve my loyalty, because he saved my life. Before the war with the Governor, that psychopath wanted Rick to hand me over as a peace offering; have me stand trial for all the boys on his so-called security team that got killed when we snuck into Woodbury, right?"
Juan nodded. "Sí, that's what he said."
"He did," John added. "But the Governor didn't strike me as a 'jury of your peers' type."
"He wasn't," Michonne said. "He had a torture chamber all set up for me in one of the warehouses."
"Isn't that where Andrea got bit?" Juan asked.
Michonne's expression softened as she remembered holding Andrea's left hand, while Andrea held Rick's gun in her right. Michonne closed her eyes and a few moments later she heard the gun's hammer click back, and a second later there was a single, loud gunshot.
BLAM!
"Yes, it was," Michonne answered.
Juan lowered his gun slightly.
"I have to admit that Rick considered the Governor's offer. I understand why; he has two children and a group to protect. But in the end he said no. A lesser man, a lesser leader, would've taken the Governor's offer in a heartbeat."
Juan now dropped his gun to his side a remorseful expression swept over his face; a moment later the memory of a conversation with his wife Marianna the day before this supply run.
•••
"Juan," Marianna said from the doorway to their cell in Cell Block D.
Juan was sitting at the iron desk bolted to the wall, and using a whetstone to sharpen his pocketknife. He looked at his wife and asked "Qué?" he asked.
Marianna stepped inside the cell. "I don't want you to go on this supply run," she ordered.
Juan sighed and folded the knife's blade into the handle. "Miel, I have to," he said sadly.
"You don't have to! Not this time!" Marianna pleaded as she knelt down beside Juan and held his hand.
"Marianna, stop it," Juan ordered as he pulled his arm away and stood up from the cell room's chair.
Marianna leapt to her feet and faced her husband. "Juan, I don't trust Rick!" she shouted.
"Miel, we're just going to get some supplies," Juan said reassuringly.
"Like you did with the Governor?" Marianna asked.
Juan sighed and rubbed his eyes, "I told you, I didn't have a choice—"
"Not after you agreed to go with him!" Marianna shouted.
"We needed those supplies."
"At what cost?"
"I've told you before that I'm sorry. I've asked God for forgiveness, but I don't think He's answered anyone's prayers for a very long time!"
•••
"Juan," a familiar voice called.
Once again, a voice pulled Juan out of his memories; he looked up and that it was John this time, looking at him with concern.
"You okay, amigo?" John asked.
Juan shook his head. "No, amigo, I'm not," he answered.
Juan looked at Rick, and raised his pistol again.
All of the survivors except Rick, Daryl, Michonne, and John gasped in shock.
"Put the gun down, Juan," Rick said bravely.
"I can't," Juan answered as tears welled up in his eyes. "I have to do this."
"I'm not the Governor, and I'm not Miyaguchi."
"You are!" Juan shouted. "And that's the scary thing about you, Rick! I spelled it all for you earlier and you still don't get it!"
"I never lied to any of you like they did!" Rick retorted.
"But you get people killed!" Juan shouted as the tears ran down his face.
Rick felt a chill run through his body at Juan's accusation; a moment later he thought about all the people who died since he became the group's leader: Amy, Jim, Jacqui, Otis, Shane, Patricia, Lori, Oscar, Axel, Merle, and now Floyd.
Juan wiped his tears away with his left hand while he held his pistol with his right hand like a duelist. "The rest of you can't see it, maybe you don't want to see it, but Rick Grimes is going to get all of you killed!" he shouted at the other survivors.
"Rick's people will say he's kept them alive this long, but what's really kept them alive is luck! Do all of you want to put your faith in one man? You've all done that with the Governor and Miyaguchi!
One man can't be in charge with the way the world is now; the power goes straight to their head! You saw that happen to the Governor and Miyaguchi, it will happen to Rick, too! Do you want to wait for Rick to kill someone before we stop him?"
Juan looked at Rick and a remorseful expression appeared on his face. "I'm sorry, Rick. It's not that I want to kill you…It's that I have to kill you."
Juan aimed his pistol at Rick and thumbed the hammer back.
"No!" Carl screamed.
A growl echoed from inside the Dodge Grand Caravan, and a moment later Sam—who had just turned after dying minutes ago—leapt out of the rear passenger doorway and grabbed hold of Juan from behind. The Walker Sam bit the left side of Juan's neck. Juan screamed in agonizing pain and fired a shot into the air.
BLAM!
Rick grabbed Carl's arm, pulled him to the ground, and covered his son with his own body. The other survivors fell to the ground for cover, too. Daryl remained standing; he slung his crossbow off his back, brought it up to his shoulder and thumbed the safety switch to the "off" position.
The Walker Sam bit out a chunk of flesh from Juan's neck and chewed on it greedily. Blood spurted out of the bite wound and Juan dropped the pistol and covered it up with both hands as he continued screaming. The Walker Sam swallowed its mouthful of flesh and growled angrily as blood dripped down from the corners of its mouth.
Daryl looked down the iron sights of his crossbow and pulled the trigger.
THUNK!
Daryl's arrow struck the Walker Sam's forehead; it let go of Juan and fell onto its back, dead. Juan swayed left to right for a few seconds, but he fell onto his back beside his dead friend.
Rick and Carl stood up; the survivors who had dropped their firearms earlier picked them up and stood up, too. John's eyes widened at the sight of Juan lying on the ground with his hands clutching his bleeding throat.
"Oh my God!" John shouted worriedly as he ran towards his dying friend.
The other survivors followed after John and they stood around Juan. Daryl stayed behind to take an arrow from his quiver and load it onto his crossbow.
Juan looked up at the half-dozen shocked and saddened faces that had surrounded him. He tried to talk, but he coughed up blood instead.
John knelt down and reached out to pull Juan's hands away from his neck, but then he remembered what it meant when a walker bit a person, so he withdrew his hands and tears started to well up in his eyes.
"There's…there's nothing we can do to help him," Tyrese said sadly.
Karen looked at Tyreese and said, "You're wrong. There is one thing we can do for him."
Tyreese lowered his head. "Yeah," he muttered.
Julia cried while Alonso held her in his arms. "I…I can't watch this," she pleaded.
"It's okay," Alonso said comfortingly as he led Julia away from the group.
Juan looked up at Rick and tried to speak again, but he only coughed up more blood. Juan shook his head and the last gasp of air left his throat.
"He's gone," John said as tears ran down his face.
The group of survivors said nothing. Daryl (with his crossbow slung over his back again) walked over to the dead Walker Sam, pulled his arrow out of its head, and proceeded to wipe the blood and bits of brain matter off the arrowhead with the new rag he took from the El Dorado's tavern.
Rick stepped over to his left, where Juan had dropped the Beretta M9 pistol; he knelt down, picked the pistol up, and aimed it at Juan's head.
"No," John said as he stood up. "He was my friend. I'll do it."
Rick looked at John for a moment, gave him the pistol, and stepped back. John looked down at Juan's corpse, aimed the pistol at him, and pulled the trigger.
BLAM!
The 9mm bullet struck Juan's corpse in the forehead, and a thin geyser of blood and brain matter shot up and struck John on his face.
Rick waited for the bullet's echo to drift away before he spoke to the survivors. " Carl, wait in the truck. Daryl and Michonne, you two are on point. The rest of us will search these cars for blankets to wrap Juan and Sam in."
•••
The survivors went on their assigned tasks, while Rick and John stayed with Juan's and Sam's corpses. Carl started walking towards the Dodge Ram 1500 when a familiar voice said, "Hey."
Carl stopped and looked to his left; it was Daryl, who reached behind the small of his back and pulled out Carl's Beretta 92FS pistol. "You dropped this."
Carl took the pistol, held it in the palms of his hands, and looked at it like it was a clue to a mystery. I knew Sora was a threat the second he stepped off that elevator, he thought. He wanted to kill my dad. He wanted to kill our group. He wanted to kill me. If I didn't listen to my dad I could've stopped all that with one shot from this gun.
Daryl noticed the angry expression on Carl's bruised face. "You good?" he asked.
Carl holstered his pistol and resumed walking to the pickup truck. "No," he answered.
•••
Rick looked to his left, where John stood, looking down at Juan's corpse. "I'm sorry about your friend," he said.
"You mean my friends," John corrected.
Rick remembered how three days ago Floyd mistook him for a walker and shot at him, and how today Floyd offered to execute him to win Sora's favor. "Yeah, I'm sorry about Floyd, too," he said impassively.
John looked at Rick and said, "They both had a yellow streak a mile wide, and nobody back at the prison is going to miss them, so leave them here. We're taking Juan back; for Marianna."
Rick nodded and looked down at Juan again. "He tried to tell me something before he died. I wonder what it was."
John reached into one of his jacket's pockets, took out a handkerchief, and wiped Juan's blood and brain matter off his face. "Judging by that shit he was rambling about, he either wanted say, 'You're a killer,' or 'You lucky bastard'".