Rick led the way to the clearing where they could see a large group of what must have been the Oceansiders surrounded by the three groups Anna had positioned.
"Everybody stay calm," Jessie said, aiming a rifle at the ground as the women and children got to their knees, hands raised in surrender.
"We don't want anyone to get hurt," Carl added.
"Stay down and listen to what we say," Gabriel said. "We want this to go as simply and as peacefully as possible. All of you can make it that way."
Anna tapped her stick against the ground as she and Rick stopped in front of the hostages. She felt her stomach twist at the situation, but she reminded herself that they weren't here to hurt anyone.
"Get down over there."
Anna looked to her left to see Daryl and Jesus leading two women forward, their hands bound, followed by Aaron and Eric.
"Keep quiet," Daryl ordered as the women got to the ground with the others.
"Now, we made a lot of noise," Rick started. "We want to wrap this up quick so you can send people to redirect anything coming this way. Tara said your forests are relatively clear, so we won't take any chances. No one needs to get hurt. This is just about what you have, what we need."
"Nobody's taking anything."
They turned to see Tara being pushed through the brush, a gun held to her head by an older woman. They were followed by a teen with long dark hair who seemed very apprehensive about what was happening.
"You need to let everyone go and leave right now. Just walk away, or this one dies," the woman said, pulling back the hammer of her gun.
"Yeah, we'll leave you alone," Rick assured. "But we're taking your weapons with us. That's not gonna change. It's Natania, right?"
Natania glared at them over Tara's shoulder, and Anna knew Michonne didn't have a clean shot. None of them did.
"Put the gun down, and let's talk about what we can change," Rick said evenly.
"No. Leave," Natania snapped. "Right now."
"Michonne, don't!" Tara called.
"We just want to be left alone," Natania went on.
"Yeah, we'll leave you alone. Just let go of her. Now. Or we'll kill you. None of us want that," Rick said.
"They want us to fight the Saviors," the teen, Cyndie, announced to the others.
"We tried that. We lost," Natania said, glaring at the girl. "Too much. We're not going to lose anymore—not our guns, not our safety, not after everything we've done to get here."
"We're gonna win—with your guns, with or without your help," Tara declared.
"Natania, put the gun down," Rick said again.
"You kill me, and you die," Tara warned. "And my people take the guns and nothing changes."
"Maybe we should try," one of the women said, garnering a hushed chatter among the crowd.
"Grandma, stop. It's over," Cyndie pleaded. "Just talk to them, okay?"
"It's not over!" Natania cried. "They've forgotten. You've all forgotten. Some of you actually want to fight them? After everything? We can lose our guns, but us leaving this place to fight? After everything? I have to remind you! Yes. I am going to do this, and then I'm going to die. But it's that important."
Anna tensed, her hand going to the gun at her hip.
"This is your life, all of you. Remember what it looks like. Remember what they did to us!" Natania shouted. "You need to see this. Open your eyes!"
"Rick! Walkers!" Michonne called.
Anna looked to the left, spotting the walkers shambling through the trees when she heard a hard thud. She looked back to Natania to see that the woman was now on the ground, her granddaughter grabbing the gun.
"Everybody up," Rick commanded. "Get the children behind us. They're coming."
He cut the two bound women free, handing his knife to the short haired woman, and everyone got into formation in front of the children.
"First shift, join them on the line. Knives out. Dead only," the short haired woman said. "Dead only!"
"Everyone, shots within ten feet of the line. That's it," Rick said.
Anna pulled her gun and the walkers drew closer.
"Now!"
The rapid crack of gunfire filled the air as they dropped the walkers, one by one. Whatever walkers got too close, those with knives took them out.
As one walker neared, she switched on the safety of her gun and tucked it into its holster before stepping forward and whipping her stick upwards into the corpse's chin, knocking it backwards onto the ground. She drove the end of her stick into its left eye and pulled back in time to dispatch another walker in much the same manner.
Once the threat had been eradicated, the gunfire died out, and the two groups turned to each other. The short haired woman held Rick's knife out to him. He accepted it and offered his hand. She hesitated a moment, but took it.
"No," Natania said suddenly, starting back to the village on obviously unsteady legs. "We're not fighting them with you. So, take your damn guns and go."
Anna and Emma sat in the back of the moving truck with the guns slowly piling up around them. Tobin set a plastic bin of rifles down in front of Anna, nodding at the two women before heading back for more.
"M16. Four," Anna said, moving the bin of rifles aside as Emma scribbled in Anna's notebook.
She pulled a wicker basket full of handguns toward her.
"Glock .47."
"I'm glad we didn't have to use anymore force than we did," Emma said. "I just wish they would fight with us."
"Yeah," Anna agreed. "Beretta M9."
"These people have lost so much—it almost seems wrong to take their guns, too," Emma muttered.
"We need these guns to fight. Even for the people who are too scared to do it themselves," Anna said. "G2c 9mm Luger. Besides, we're going to give these back."
"We can't replace the bullets, though," Emma pointed out.
"Maybe we can. Eugene—" she paused. Eugene was gone. "He gave my brother a recipe to make bullets," she finished, shaking her head. "Winchester. 380 Auto. Three."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Anna nodded.
"You did a good job here, by the way."
"I didn't do much," Anna shrugged, listing off another rifle.
"You did. You made a good plan and put us where we needed to be," Emma insisted.
"I got lucky," Anna said, shaking her head. "Glenn was the one who came up with the plans."
The pain in her chest at the mention of Glenn only throbbed for a few minutes before it faded.
"He was your friend."
Anna nodded.
"I'm sorry," Emma said quietly.
"We all lost something that night," Anna said, brushing a stray tear away. "But beating the Saviors isn't going to bring anyone back. This is about who's still here—how we can protect the people we love and give them better lives."
Emma nodded in agreement, and Anna went back to calling out the guns as Emma recorded them in the book. Jesus set a basket of rifles down. On top was a Sako 85, bolt-action hunting rifle.
"Do you still want to learn to hunt?" She asked, picking the rifle off the pile and listing it off.
"Uh, yeah," Emma said. "Why?"
"When we have the time, I'll teach you," Anna said. "Probably when this is all over."
"Thank you," Emma said with a small grin.
On the way back to Alexandria with the guns, Daryl allowed Anna to drive the motorcycle, giving her a quick lesson on how to control it. She nearly fell three times when he wasn't behind her, but she soon got the hang of the balance.
By the time they were pulling up to the front gates, her hands were numb from the vibration of the handlebars.
The gate creaked, the headlights from the bike and the RV illuminating Rosita as she pushed the gate open. They maneuvered between the vehicles and into Alexandria, and Rosita closed the gate behind them.
Anna jumped off the motorcycle, turning it off as Daryl threw the kickstand down and started toward Rosita.
"Hey, are you okay?" Enid asked as she and the others approached.
"Where's Sasha?" Jesus asked.
Rosita glared at them from under her hat.
"There's someone here," she said, heading past them.
Anna furrowed her brow but followed. Rick made his way up to walk beside Rosita, quietly questioning her about what happened. Anna bit her tongue, worry picking up in her chest. Rosita led them to and inside the red-brick house where she and Morgan had built the prison cell. The cell door creaked open, and Rosita stepped aside.
A dark figure moved from where it sat in the shadow, stepping into the light that filtered through the high window.
It took a moment for Anna to register the face she was seeing. Blond hair, blue eyes—one nestled in knotted, burned flesh—and a vest that didn't belong to him.
Daryl rushed forward, shoving Anna out of the way. She caught herself on the wall as Rick held him back.
"Whoa! Slow down," Rick ordered, holding Daryl still.
"He says he wants to help us," Rosita said.
Anna reached forward and set her hand on Daryl's shoulder, pulling him toward her. He stilled, but his body was tense as Rick turned to Dwight.
"That true?" Rick asked. "You want to help?"
"I do," Dwight said firmly.
Rick glanced back at them, his eyes landing on Daryl for a moment before facing Dwight again.
"Okay," he said, pulling out his Colt Python and pulling back the hammer as he aimed it in Dwight's face. "Get on your knees."
Dwight didn't blink at the barrel of Rick's gun following him as he dropped to his knees, his eyes solely on Daryl. This was a man who was used to having guns in his face.
"Look at me," Rick ordered, and he did. "Why?"
"'Cause I want it stopped," Dwight said. "I want Negan dead."
"So, why don't you kill him?" Rick asked.
"Can't just be me. They're all Negan," Dwight explained.
"That girl you murdered; she had a name." Tara said, hovering over him. "Her name was Denise, and she was a doctor. And she helped people."
Dwight looked at her, and Anna could see he was struggling with what he was about to say.
"I wasn't aiming for her."
Daryl rushed forward again, ripping his shoulder out of Anna's grasp as Tara stepped aside, and he shoved Dwight against the wall as he pulled his buck knife out and held it to Dwight's eye.
"Do it. Do it," Tara hissed.
"You wanna end it this way… you go ahead," Dwight said. "I'm sorry. I am. I know you want to."
"He could just be here to see if you were here," Rick said.
"We can't trust him," Michonne agreed.
"He owned me," Dwight said. "But not anymore. What I did, I was doing it for someone else. She just got away. So, now I'm here. So are you, because of her."
"Woman named Sherry slipped me a key when no one was lookin'."
"Do it!" Tara practically shrieked.
"There's another choice."
"Daryl," Tara called. "Daryl, you knew her."
"Negan trusts me. We work together, we can stop him," Dwight said.
Anna noted the way he wasn't pleading with Daryl. Like he accepted whatever Daryl planned to do to him—like he knew he deserved it.
"You knew me then, and you know me now. You know I'm not lyin'," Dwight said. "I'm not."
"Do it," Tara snapped. "Do it!"
Daryl pulled his knife away, but he kept his hand against Dwight's throat as Rick approached.
"They have Sasha, if she's even alive," Rosita finally said.
"Why didn't you say something?" Jesus asked. "He could be our only chance to get her back."
"Because I don't trust him," Rosita snapped. "But I trust Daryl."
"Negan's coming soon," Dwight said and Daryl dropped his hand away, moving to stand beside Anna. "Tomorrow. Three trucks probably. Twenty Saviors and him. I can slow them down," he assured. "Bring some trees down in the road, buy a little time for you guys to get ready. If you can take them out, that's where we start. You kill them, I'll radio back to the Sanctuary."
"The Sanctuary?" Rick asked.
"Where Negan lives. That's what they call it," Dwight explained. "I can radio back to them and say everything's okay. You drive the trucks back, and I can lead you right inside, and, with the right plan, we can wipe out the rest. Check to see if your friend's still alive. Then, we get the workers on our side, build our numbers up, and go from outpost to outpost and end this."
Rick took a moment, seeming to think it over until he finally spoke.
"Keep talkin'."
Anna stood beside Rick and Daryl as they watched Dwight climb into a truck and Rosita open the front gate. She couldn't stop thinking about Sasha, wondering if she was okay, or if something terrible had already happened to her.
"We just started it—the whole thing," Rick said as the truck engine started.
"If he's lyin', I'm gonna kill him real slow," Daryl growled. "When this is done, I don't give a damn if he's sorry. I will kill that sum' bitch."
"If he's lyin', this is already over," Rick said before walking off.
Anna and Daryl walked through the dark house, making their way to the master bedroom. She hesitated at the door, knowing that a conversation waited on the other side. She'd have to explain the shredded dress she'd left on the bathroom floor and the nest in the closet.
With a heavy sigh, she pushed the door open and went to turn on the small light on the bedside table. She turned to see Daryl staring at the empty space in the middle of the room.
"They took our bed," she explained, only for him to nod.
"They burned 'em," he said.
Anna clenched her jaw, deciding there was nothing she could do about the burned mattresses.
"Where you been sleepin'?" He asked.
"I—uh—" she stammered. "In the closet," she finally muttered.
He raised a brow at her and went to the bathroom as if intending to see for himself. But he paused in the doorway as he turned on the light and looked at the floor.
Daryl knelt down and picked up a piece of the destroyed dress, turning to her.
"It was… an emotional day," she said, as if that was enough of an explanation.
Daryl looked down at the torn fabric, smoothing his thumb over it.
"I should'a killed him," he said. "Isaac, Dwight—both of 'em. They don't deserve to still be breathin'."
Anna shook her head.
"Dwight can be useful to us," she said, taking a step toward him. "Keeping him alive may be our best play."
Daryl narrowed his eyes.
"Would you've kept Isaac alive after everythin' if he was tryna help us?" He asked, his voice biting. "Would it still be the best play?"
Anna looked away, her chest burning. She bit her tongue, not wanting to say anything she may regret.
"No one was going to stop you in that cell, Daryl," she finally said, forcing her voice to stay even. "You chose not to kill him."
"What if it's the wrong choice? What if he betrays us?" Daryl asked.
"We won't know until he does—if he does," Anna said, going to the armchair in the corner.
She sat down and began untying her boots.
"Sounds like you know from experience," Daryl huffed.
Anna stilled, staring at the carpet in front of her. She could almost feel the cold rock in her palms again. She wasn't sure she wanted to relive it. But Daryl needed to know he wasn't alone in his uncertainty.
"There was a guy—I never knew his name," she started, shaking her head as she rested her elbows on her knees and leaned forward, clasping her hands together. "He was with Isaac, back after the farm."
She kept her eyes on the floor, but she could just see Daryl tensing.
"He brought me food," she went on. "Never touched me. Not once."
"He let that piece of shit—" Daryl ground out, and Anna nodded.
"When Marley and her group came, they started firing on them. He pulled me out of that car and we ran," she went on. "He saved my life. And I killed him."
She looked up then, seeing Daryl staring at her, his brows knitted together.
"I didn't have to. Maybe I shouldn't have," she said. "Things certainly would have gone differently if I hadn't. But I can't know how, because I did it, and I can't take that back."
"You're a better person than me, Daryl," she said, getting to her feet. "You could've killed Dwight, but you chose not to, because you know he can help us. I didn't stop to think. I just acted. I—I don't know what I would do if I could go back," she said, running her hand through her hair. "If I would do things differently, if I would keep him alive. But it doesn't matter."
"He deserved to die," Daryl said.
"Did he?" Anna asked. "I'm not so sure anymore. By killing him, by killing Dwight, we take away all chances."
"You're startin' to sound like Morgan."
"But am I wrong?"
Daryl looked away, his jaw ticking, and Anna sighed.
"Let's get some rest while we can," she said, kicking off her boots and going to the closet to grab the blankets. "We don't know what tomorrow will bring."