Daryl and Rick's group cleared the courtyard of the Saviors turned walkers, and ensured those who hadn't turned yet never did. The wounded were loaded up and taken away in one truck, while the dead were loaded up in another. Rick took pictures of all the damage before heading back inside the office building.
"Guns aren't here," Scott said waving everyone toward the cars. "We gotta go right now, people. They pulled away the herd, but we aren't taking any chances."
Daryl watched as everyone climbed into their vehicles and pulled out of the courtyard, headed back to their respective communities. Aaron sat off by himself. Scott had told him what had happened to Eric. He wasn't sure how to handle it, or what to say to Aaron, if anything.
The cry of a baby interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up to see Rick walking toward them, carrying a bundle in his arms.
"She was inside?" Tobin asked.
"She was," Rick nodded. "I have a—I have a stop to make, and Daryl's got his bike," he said, stopping in front of Tobin. "Maybe she can go back with you or Scott."
"She can go with me," Aaron offered, his voice shaky. "I can, uh, t-take her to the Hilltop. She'll be safe there."
"Aaron," Rick started, walking toward him. "You sure?"
"Eric and I were gonna go up…" he said quietly, his voice breaking. "We were gonna go there after and update Maggie. So, that's what I'm gonna do." He nodded, his lips pressed together as he held back tears. "Please. I have to."
Rick nodded and gently passed the baby to Aaron.
"Her name's Gracie," Rick said as they looked down on the infant.
Rick gestured for everyone to roll out, and he and Daryl headed for the front of the building where Daryl had parked his bike near a jeep.
"See you back home," Rick called, loading up his stuff in the jeep.
"Sure you wanna talk to them assholes alone?" Daryl asked.
Rick had decided this would be their best option, and it was yet another part of the plan Daryl didn't like.
"Yeah," Rick assured. "That's how it gets done."
"All right," Daryl relented. "You're gone too long, I'm gonna come lookin' for you."
"That's the plan," Rick chuckled the moment before there was a single gunshot.
Daryl dropped, taking cover behind the cement platform of a fancy street light and pulled his gun, thankful he'd grabbed some more ammo from one of the others before they left.
He looked back to see that Rick had made it behind the jeep and was signaling him to wait. Daryl peered over the cement platform, aiming his gun at the tree he knew the Savior was hiding behind.
"Hey," Rick called. "Hey! You're alone. You got to be. There's not enough room for two of you behind that tree. And there's a herd comin'. I'm just sayin'. Hey, I tell you what… we'll make you a deal. You drop your gun and come on out—you tell us what we need to know. You do that, you can take a car. You go. You live," Rick offered. "How 'bout it?"
"Why should I trust you?" Came the Savior's shaky reply.
"'Cause I'm giving you my word. There's not a lot that's worth much these days, but a man's word… that's got to mean somethin', right?"
"O-okay," the Savior stuttered.
Daryl rose from where he crouched and moved around the platform as a young man with his empty hands up limped out from behind the tree. Daryl kept his gun aimed.
"W-what do you wanna know?" He asked.
"You ever have any M2 Browning .50-caliber guns here?" Rick asked.
"We did. For a while," the man said.
"What happened to 'em?" Daryl demanded.
"They got sent to another outpost yesterday," he said quickly, cowering.
"Which one?" Rick asked.
"It was Gavin's—it's west of here," he said.
Rick said nothing and Daryl lowered his gun. The man slowly straightened, lowering his hands. Daryl wondered if this man had anything to do with the handcuffs and vomit in that closet on the top floor.
"Can I, uh—Can… Can I go?" He asked, unsure.
Daryl raised his gun, firing a single shot into his head. The man fell to the ground with a thud and turned to Rick.
"Which team's at Gavin's?" Daryl asked, heading for his bike.
Isaac wiped the sweat from the back of his neck, rubbing his palm clean on his jeans. They had decided it would be best to turn off the power to conserve energy. Though it wasn't anything he wasn't used to, of course, Isaac certainly didn't like it.
He glanced around the room, considering the dynamic of the people present. Everyone was under a lot of stress and waiting for someone else to come up with a plan of action. Isaac knew that if he wanted to get anywhere with this rare opportunity, it would have to be his plan. The only problem was that he didn't have one. Not yet. Whoever had concocted this scheme of surrounding the Sanctuary with the dead and snipers was smart.
But he was smarter.
"Now, we were due for a delivery today from my place," Gavin said, calling Isaac's attention back to the meeting. "Spotters haven't seen anything. Yeah, the transport truck would've turned around, seeing the state of things, but nothing's come up any of the roads. Chem outpost doesn't miss deliveries," he insisted. "Something happened, that Rick guy happened. Our outposts are getting hit while—"
The door swung open and Laura walked in, her breathing heavy and white tank top damp with sweat. The nights may have been getting colder, but the days were still warm, especially inside the Sanctuary.
"What is it?" Simon asked, straightening.
"They're coming up the stairs," Laura said.
"Walkers?" Eugene asked, his voice trembling.
Laura looked to him and glared, leaning over the table, "The workers," she clarified impatiently. "They said we'd have to shoot them."
Muffled talking came from the other side of the door, calling all of their attention. The lieutenants jumped to their feet. Simon pulled the door open and the low chatter subsided.
"Workers are designated to stay on the ground level," Simon said as he stepped out.
Isaac stepped out of the room behind Gavin to find the workers crowding the hallway on either side. He let the others file out after him before carefully placing himself back in front of the door, prepared to take cover if things went bad.
"Specifically, their activity is constrained to the factory floor and the outdoor gardens," Simon elaborated.
"It's too hot down there," one tall man said. "And we sure as hell ain't goin' outside. When you gonna fix the power?"
"It doesn't need fixing," Simon said, shaking his hand. "We're conserving fuel. It's a shared sacrifice," he hummed, looking between the crowds.
"Oh, you're sharing now," the same man said.
"Oh, that sort of tone is not gonna work for me—" Simon sighed before stepping toward the man.
Dwight jumped forward, pushing Simon back.
"Everyone, everyone!" Dwight called. "Look, we're gonna get through this. Okay? We just need some more time."
"We need some more water!" Another man said. "There are young people, old people."
"We're rationing that out, too," Simon said evenly.
"We work, you protect us," a woman said. "That was the deal. That's how it was supposed to work."
There was a collective "yeah" from the workers.
"We need water!" Someone repeated.
"Do you have a plan for getting us out?" Another asked.
"You heard the man," Gavin snapped. "You all need to get back to the factory floor."
"Where's Negan?"
There was silence.
"Is he dead?"
"Answer the question."
No one had an answer.
"Everyone has to return to the factory floor now!" Simon shouted.
"I'm not going anywhere," the woman said firmly, pushing through the crowd.
"I need to correct you on that point," Simon said, his voice dangerously low.
Isaac watched as he stepped forward, then his eyes caught movement.
"Gun!" Isaac shouted, pulling his gun and taking a step back into the conference room.
Two guns went off in quick succession, and a woman screamed as the armed worker fell to Regina's dead shot.
"I am Negan," Regina declared, her gun still aimed into the crowd. "Anyone else want a bullet? Anyone?"
Distantly, a high-pitched whistle came from behind the crowd, growing louder as the workers turned. Everyone kneeled as the whistling continued and a gore-covered Negan came around the corner and chuckled. Beside him was a man, similarly covered, staring confused at the scene before him.
"Ah, Regina," Negan said as the man copied the others. "Now, why'd you have to go and do that?"
Isaac glanced at the worried look on Regina's face as she bowed her head.
"I am guessing that a lot of you fine folks thought I was dead, chewed up, never to be crapped out again. Well, here's a little refresher on who the hell I am," he grinned. "I wear a leather jacket, I have Lucille, and my nutsack is made of steel. I am not dying until I am damn good and ready. Now," he smiled, "if you'll all excuse me, I am in deep need of a sandwich, a shower, and some of that, uh, wilting lion orchid deep-tissue shit that Frankie learned in San Francisco. Hell, I might do it all at once. But after that, we have some serious business to attend to." He raised Lucille and pointed at Simon. "Like talking to my right-hand man. You see, we got to figure out how all this could've happened like it happened. And then… we're gonna get back to doing what we have always done. We will save people."
"Thank you, Negan," some woman called. "Thank God for you."
Negan's smile grew and he looked to the man he'd arrived with.
"And that is why I am here," Negan said. "Gentlemen, gently take him to number 2," he ordered. "Gently," he repeated.
Two guards walked forward and took the man on either side, leading him toward the cells as Negan walked off and everyone stood.
Isaac clenched his jaw, holstering his gun as he watched them disappear.
Anna sighed heavily, wiping the sweat from her forehead before leaning back into her rifle and peering through the scope. The Saviors had yet to make a move against the herd, and for that she was grateful, but she was starting to get bored and tired.
Most of the day had passed with her sitting and watching, and she could still feel the bruises from her earlier fight. All she wanted was a hot meal, a shower, and some sleep. She glanced down at her watch; it was almost time for the sniper's relief to arrive.
She reached into her satchel and pulled a half-eaten granola bar out. Pulling back the wrapper, she took a bite and set it on the window sill, chewing slowly as she returned to her watch position.
A floorboard creaked quietly behind her, and Anna stood and swung around, aiming her rifle at the intruder only to find Morgan standing there, hands raised in surrender and his stick slung across his back.
Anna huffed, lowering her rifle as she relaxed her stance.
"You scared me," she said. "You're early. Did everything at the satellite outpost go okay?"
"Yeah," Morgan said, nodding but not looking at her.
"Morgan?" She asked curiously.
He pressed his lips together.
"We lost some people—took some hostages," he finally said. "Jesus and Tara took them back to the Hilltop."
"Hostages?" Anna asked, raising a brow.
They hadn't planned for hostages.
"Yeah," Morgan affirmed.
Anna nodded, shifting on her feet before passing him the rifle and gathering her things. She slung her satchel and stick across her body and picked up her granola bar. She folded the wrapper over the bar as tightly as she could before tucking it into her pocket for later.
As she unclipped the walkie from her belt, she realized that this was the first time she'd been alone with Morgan since he'd discontinued her training. After relaying to the others that Morgan was taking over for her, she held the walkie out to him as he went to the chair. He accepted it, laying it on the windowsill as he settled into position.
She started toward the stairs when she paused and sighed.
"What do you think we should do with them? The hostages?" She asked.
He didn't answer and she turned to face him.
"The plan is to make them surrender, but what do we do with them after that?" She pushed.
"We do what we have to," Morgan said, his whole body tense.
Anna bit her cheek. She'd been grappling with this issue for some time.
"Earlier, when the others were here and Rick was offering them a chance to surrender, there was a man with Negan," Anna began. "I knew him near the beginning. I wanted to kill him. I could have killed him—he was in my sights."
"But you didn't."
"No, I didn't," she agreed.
"Then I think you already know what you want," Morgan said.
Anna furrowed her brow. Finally, she turned away and started down the stairs and out of the building. She snuck her way through the city, careful to avoid any stray walkers that had yet to join the herd around Sanctuary, until she reached the woods and started for Alexandria.
After a few hours, Anna came upon the road where she had killed that Savior. She spotted the rusted car and walked to it. She leaned her stick against the car and climbed onto the trunk and sat cross-legged, pulling out the granola bar from her pocket and stuffing the last of it into her mouth.
She chewed deliberately as she stared at the corpse she'd left on the ground. People were going to die during this war—Saviors, Alexandrians, Hilltoppers, and Kingdomers. What mattered was what happened after the war. They couldn't expect the Saviors to surrender if they were just going to line them up and execute them. And what kind of people would that make them?
Anna scrunched up her face as she swallowed the granola bar.
It would make them no better than the Saviors, no better than the Governor, no better than Fort Benning and the Colonel. They had to be better, or else what future were they fighting for?
But what would that mean for Isaac?
Anna shook her head, pulling her notebook and a pen from her satchel. She clicked the pen open, flipping to a blank page toward the back.
The Sanctuary's still surrounded; she wrote. They're trapped and cut off from their supplies. The lookouts are all around the compound. They open a door, we fire. But if they open a door—I think they'd have bigger problems. Every hour that goes by, they become weaker. It's only a matter of time before they surrender.
Her hand stilled, and she wondered if she should write any more. She looked at the corpse again. With a huff, Anna decided there was nothing more to say for now, and she wrote the note two more times before tearing the page into separate pieces and folding them.
Hopping off the trunk, Anna grabbed her stick and tucked the notebook and pen back into her satchel. She started down the road. She walked a few miles before she spotted the wheelbarrow filled with junk on the shoulder. At the top of the pile was a white and black microwave. She knew Rick would be passing this way soon, but she didn't have the time to wait.
She popped it open and found two papers within. The first was from Maggie, confirming what Morgan had told her and informing them that she had yet to decide what to do with the prisoners. The second was from Carol, relaying the loss they'd suffered at the Chem outpost. Anna's heart constricted. It had been taken, but at what cost?
Anna worked her jaw and folded the papers, placing them back inside the microwave before setting one of her notes with them. She shut the appliance and began her walk again. She glanced up at the sky, noting the dull hue. It was getting late; she wouldn't make it back before nightfall, and she still had two more notes to deliver.
Daryl leaned against the pillar and stared off down the street. Anna hadn't returned to Alexandria yet, and he didn't intend to wait around for her. He heard the front door open. He tapped his fingers against the pillar and bowed his head before looking up to see Tara approaching.
"Hey," she greeted. "You just get back?"
He pushed himself off the pillar and stepped forward.
"Yeah. I was lookin' for you," he explained.
"I was looking for you, too," she said, her hands in her jacket pockets as she took a breath. "I wanted to tell you that you were right when you didn't kill Dwight. We wouldn't have gotten this far without him."
Daryl said nothing, waiting for the 'but'.
"The thing is, I know what you said. But after this, I'm gonna kill him. I want it to be me," Tara determined.
Daryl hummed.
"Maybe it could be you and me both," he suggested. "And maybe we don't got to wait so long."
Isaac slunk down the dark hall. Not even the sun was awake as he moved silently toward the infirmary. He was certain Dr. Carson 2.0 was still asleep as he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The man from before, Gabriel as he'd heard, was lying in the bed, drenched in sweat and shaking. He seemed so pathetic, wrapped up as he was. Isaac hovered over him, his face blank as he stared at the man. He had come here for answers, and he had every intention of getting them.
He cleared his throat, just loud enough for Gabriel to stir and slowly open his eyes.
"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," Isaac said, painting concern across his face. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."
"Wa—water, please," Gabriel croaked out.
Isaac nodded, spotting the glass of water left on the bedside table. He picked it up and held it carefully over Gabriel's lips, helping him take a small drink before setting it back on the table.
"You came to see how I was?" Gabriel asked, his voice a fraction clearer. "Why?"
"We aren't monsters," Isaac said, smiling. "It would behoove us to make sure you survive in our care."
"And why is that?" Gabriel pushed, pulling the blanket further up his body.
"Negan only wants Rick, the Widow, and the King dead—everyone else just needs to surrender. They won't do that if they think we're just going to kill them."
"So, I'm meant to be an example," Gabriel muttered.
"A rather harsh way to put it, but yes," Isaac agreed. "You've put us in a rather harsh position."
"We had to," Gabriel insisted half-heartedly. "You won't surrender, otherwise."
"I've got to hand it to you, surrounding the Sanctuary with corpses? Smart play," Isaac praised. "Trap us inside, cut us off from our supplies." He shook his head.
Of course, it was the best play. Least amount of effort for the greatest effect. Isaac had already noticed a certain questioning of leadership spreading among the workers and soldiers. Something he could play off of.
"A smart plan crafted by a smart woman," Gabriel said, pulling him back to the conversation. "We're lucky to have Anna on our side."
"Anna?" Isaac asked.
His Annie was behind all of this? He couldn't quite believe it.
"She underestimates herself," Gabriel said before falling into a fit of coughs.
Isaac took a discreet step back, keeping the disgust off his face. Once Gabriel's cough died away, he reached out for the glass of water. Isaac stepped forward and helped him drink again.
"Is she some kind of General?" Isaac asked.
"She'd say no if you asked her," Gabriel said weakly, slipping in and out of consciousness.
"Get some rest Gabe," Isaac said, feigning concern.
Gabriel nodded and relaxed into his pillow, quickly falling asleep. Isaac set the glass back on the bedside table and started out of the room. The sun was starting to rise and Dr. Carson would be back soon. But he had all the answers he needed.