Chapter 11: Six and a Quarter Turns

~Daryl~

No one says a word as the gates swing open. We all know who it is, and we all know who won't be with them.

Rick and Michonne are hand in hand as they walk inside, both of their eyes still red from crying as they take off towards Judith. Clary trails through the gate behind them, not meeting anyone's eyes. She's expressionless, but I know that facade is holding back a hurricane of emotion. Clary lifts her eyes, catching sight of Enid in the crowd first.

"Enid?" Clary begins. My god, she sounds so broken, so young. "Where's my dad?"

Enid doesn't immediately answer, and I see the fear wash over Clary like a damn tsunami in those five seconds of silence. She repeats, "Enid, where's my dad? You left with him! Where is he?!" She's desperate for her father, nearly hysterical. "Where the hell is my father?!"

"We went to them," Enid answers, tears forming in her eyes. "He thought he could get Oceanside to join us. They attacked us in the middle of the night, the Oceanside. Natania had Aaron on the ground, spear over his heart, and I shot her through the back. I saved Aaron, but I killed their leader."

Clary steps towards Enid, still processing her words. "You… you…"

"I know I messed up," Enid says. "She was their leader."

In one stride, Clary crosses the rest of the space between the two girls and wraps Enid in a tight hug. She's nearly sobbing as she manages, "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"It was Aaron," Enid replies, hugging her back. "He's one of us."

"But he's so much more to me. I can't lose him, too. I can't thank you enough."

"We're all one group. It's what we do."

"You don't understand," Clary tells her, pulling back to look at her. "Aaron's one of the few I have left. You saved him. I owe you." Clary glances down before back at Enid. "He's still there?"

Enid nods. "He wanted me to tell you that no matter what, his heart will keep beating. I guess you'd know what that means."

"I do," Clary confirms, her voice nearly breaking at that. "But I don't know why he'd risk himself like that."

"He thinks he can get 'em to agree," Enid informs her.

"They were never going to," Clary realizes. "I have to go. I have to go after him. I have to bring him back before they kill him, too."

"Clary, you can't!" I exclaim, reaching towards her as I take a step forward. "It's too dangerous out there, especially now that the Saviors got out. We need everyone here, all in one place."

Clary glances around before asking, "Where's Dwight?"

"Dwight ran," Tara says. "He got away."

"How the hell did he get away?!" Clary demands.

"I had my gun on him, but he ran anyway."

"He was our only hope!"

"Tara shot at him," I correct. "She shot at him, tried to kill him. And he ran to lead the Saviors away from the rest of us."

Clary spins on her heel, starting towards Tara. "You tried to kill him?!"

Jesus grabs her arm to pull her away from Tara. Clary spins, fist raised to punch him, before she sees who's grasping her wrist. She wretches her arm free, turning back to Tara. "You were with the Governor, Tara," Clary growls. "He killed my people, my brother! He killed Jesse! Jesse, who wasn't even a part of it. You wanted to go to war against us! When I saw you in that train car, I wanted to kill you for what you did. But Glenn stuck up for you! He spoke on your behalf and I trusted him and his judgment. I let you live! I said to leave Dwight alone! I told you not to touch him! You will respect what I say! You will follow my orders! Or I will kill you."

Everyone freezes where they are, staring at Clary in shock because they all know how dangerous Dixons can be, Clary especially. When you combine that with every emotion she's feeling because of Carl and Eric's deaths, Aaron MIA, the fact that Dwight's not with us, and the whole war with Negan in the first place, she's completely unpredictable.

Clary told me about what went down when she met with Negan the first time. He told her that she was one bad day away from being him. I fear that Clary's fallen so far down his rabbit hole that she may already be Negan.

~Clary~

I sit at Glenn's grave, staring at the bullet I left. I had originally wanted to end my life that night with his bullet, but Jesus stopped me before I could. I find myself considering it now. I consider taking that bullet, putting it in the chamber of my gun, and putting the gun to my temple. But I can't bring myself to use Glenn's bullet. I pull the empty bullet casing out of my pocket.

Maybe if we get Eugene back, I could get him to make me a bullet with this casing, I think. It'd be fitting, I suppose. That I use the casing of the bullet that Carl used to end his life to make a bullet to end mine. Romeo and Juliet wouldn't have shit on us.

I turn the empty bullet casing over in my fingers, staring down at it. I bring it to my lips, kissing it before putting it back in my pocket. I hug my knees to my chest, staring at the bullet I placed on Glenn's grave. I don't turn away from the grave as Maggie approaches, watching her out of the corner of my eye. She stops right beside me, silent. I greet her by saying, "Looks like we're both widows now."

"What do you mean by that?" Maggie questions.

"Sit," I say, and Maggie sits on the ground beside me. I take out Carl's letter, passing it over to her.

Maggie takes it, looking down at it before looking at me. "Is this…"

"Yeah," I whisper. "Read it."

Maggie opens the letter, reading it silently. She refolds the letter, and when she hands it back to me, I see her eyes are shining. Maggie wraps her arm around my shoulders, rubbing my arm. I turn into her, burying my face in her shoulder. "I loved him," I whimper. "I loved him. I loved them all."

"I know," Maggie murmurs into my hair. "This world keeps taking and taking and taking."

Rick doesn't say anything, doesn't even look at me as he kneels beside Glenn's grave.

The dirt crunches underneath boots as someone else arrives, and I glance over my shoulder to see that it's my brother. "You know," Daryl says, "I look around and I think about the people that are gone and the people that are still here. And it ain't right."

The people we lost. Glenn and Carl and Eric and Abraham. They should all be here right now, but they're not. They're dead because of Rick. I whisper, "Please. Please, don't do this now."

"I'm sorry," Daryl says, wrapping his arms around me as he kneels behind me. "It ain't fair."

"Please don't touch me," I whisper. I know it's hurting Daryl, all that we've lost. And I know how it hurts him to see me hurting, how it's even worse because there isn't anything he can do. How it's even worse because I won't even let him near me.

Daryl releases me, straightening. He looks down at Rick, telling him, "Look, about what I did at Sanctuary, trying to end it real quick… I just wanted it done. I didn't want to give them another chance, not again. And I didn't care who was there. I don't know if that makes it right or—"

"It does," Rick interrupts. He stands, turning to face Daryl. "I didn't want to risk killing innocent people. I should've just been worrying about our people. Hell with anyone else."

"We'll keep fighting," Daryl decides, "until you're ready."

"I'm ready," Rick tells him. "Maggie's got lookouts out there."

Daryl nods along. "Every half-mile, waiting to signal each other, I know."

"Yeah. I'm going, too. To make sure we're all ready."

"I'll go with you," Daryl volunteers.

"We should split up. We're covering as much ground as we can." Daryl nods. "I'm okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm gonna be okay." Rick starts to walk off, but pauses. "Daryl. Thank you for gettin' 'em here."

Daryl nods, and Rick leaves to go join the lookouts. Daryl offers me his hand. "You coming, Clars? You been here for hours."

"Yeah, I'm coming," I reply, getting to my feet. "I… I think he's right, you know. About how they don't matter. Darry, you were right about the Sanctuary. You were right about ending it quick. We lost that chance, but we can still end them. We hit 'em hard, and show no mercy. If they ain't on this side of the fight, they're wrong. And they die."

~Michonne~

Maggie, Clary, Enid, and I gather around the hatchback as Rosita returns. Enid opens the back door, revealing three crates. Rosita gets out of the driver's seat with a note, reporting, "I don't know what the hell it is."

Maggie takes the note, reading, "'If you fill the crates with food or phonograph records, I will gladly exchange them for a key to your future.'"

"It lists coordinates for our meeting spot," Rosita tells us.

"This isn't the Saviors," I say. "They'd blow through the gates, make a big show. This isn't that."

"I don't know, 'chonne," Clary argues. "It's definitely not Negan, but it might be Simon or one of the other guys."

"Either way, I wouldn't put nothing past 'em," Maggie says.

"Well, if it is a trap, it's kind of obvious," Rosita says.

"Which is what could make it a trap."

"What if," I propose, "it's someone who actually wants to help?"

"If someone is trying to help us and we miss out, we miss out. If somebody's trying to kill us, we die."

"Not if we're careful," I counter.

"You're chasing a roadrunner, Michonne," Clary says.

"Being careful is staying here," Enid chimes in.

No one says anything, unsure of how to proceed with us divided like this. With a shrug, Clary—Clary, where the traits brave, reckless, loyal, and stupid are all rolled up into one pop culture quoting depressed hot mess of a teenager— says, "I'll go."

"No," I immediately object.

"I'm going," Clary repeats.

"Not alone, you're not. I'm going, too. We'll see what's up."

"You go, I go," Rosita says.

Enid shakes her head. "Rick wants us here."

"I know," I say. "But the last time we took a chance like this, it changed everything."

"'From a friend,'" Clary says, echoing the words Aaron had written on a note and left with water for us.

"Rick didn't agree with me then. He may not understand me now."

"He won't," Maggie says.

"But eventually, he will. He will."

"Jesus and the others have been scavenging, and we're still starving. Maybe this person does have something that can help."

"Then I'm coming with you," Enid decides.

"Okay," Maggie says with a nod. "I'll grab records in case this is real. Enid, Clary, you two grab extra clips in case it isn't."

"Look, this bitch ain't Aaron," Clary says. "They can't be that friendly if they're demanding a damn tribute. I can't let the rest of you risk yourselves. Especially not you, Maggie. So I'll go and be your damn quality assurance myself."

"You're not going out there alone. End of story," Maggie says. "You go, we all go."

~Clary~

The coordinates on the back of the note lead us to a crossroads. A van is already there, two women standing outside of it. "Okay," Michonne says.

Rosita's in the woods, ready to provide back up. The rest of us climb out, drawing our weapons as we walk forward. One of the women slides open the side door, allowing an older blonde woman with glasses to climb out. "My name is Georgie," she introduces herself. "And these are my friends the twins, Hilda and Midge. And you are?"

"The Orphan," I say, then gesture to Maggie. "This is the Widow." I nod at Michonne. "The Last Samurai." I point towards Enid. "And that's Tortuga."

"I eat one turtle, and you don't let it go," Enid says. "I had to eat something, Clary."

"Oh, way to go, Enid. Tell her my name." Enid and I look at each other, and I pause for a moment, realizing what I said. "Oh, fuck."

"You're suspicious," Georgie notes. "But curious enough to see what I have to offer for food and music. I do hope the records are music. I don't accept spoken word. If you're out here, you know you can take care of yourselves, and I like that. I don't care to share this with the weak."

"Good," Maggie says.

I whistle, calling, "Annie Oakley!"

Rosita emerges from the woods, aiming her gun towards Hilda. Georgie looks over at the movement, then turns back to find that the rest of us have raised our weapons. Maggie says, "Enid, Clary."

"You got it, Boss Lady," I say. Enid and I start forward, Enid going to Midge while I go to Georgie. The girls frisk the twins, and I go to search Georgie. She holds up her hand, saying, "None for me."

"Good for you, Ellen," I say and frisk her anyway. I return to Maggie's side, telling her, "We're all good, Mags."

"Give us what you have," Maggie orders.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Georgie argues. "I come bearing knowledge to trade. Essential knowledge for the future, primarily in my head, and uh, I prefer to keep that where it is."

"You're trading knowledge," Michonne says.

"That's what I have. I've made the same offer before—fill the crates, get the knowledge. Simple as that. It's not a trick, just a fair trade. I promise you."

Hilda chimes in, "It's an act of benevolence."

"Yeah, I knew a guy that said he had information," I say. "He works with the Saviors now. Probably makin' bullets for 'em as we speak. Your knowledge does me as much good as the goddamn clown you float with, Georgie." I lean towards Maggie, whispering, "She doesn't have shit, and what they do have, supplies-wise, they ain't gonna trade. I say we pop 'em and take it, be done with it."

"No," Maggie argues before turning to Georgie. "Why would you do that?"

"What else should I do?" Georgie prompts.

"Rosita," Maggie orders. "Clary, give her a hand."

I take off to help Rosita search the van, and Georgie argues, "What's in there isn't part of the deal."

"There is no deal," Maggie tells her.

"How many communities have you found?" Rosita questions.

"Communities like yours," Georgie clarifies. "Not many at all. And not one for a very long time. What you have is special. It's unusual. The dead have brought out our best and worst, and the worst has been outpacing the best lately; but that won't last forever."

"It won't," Midge agrees.

"If, perhaps, people can believe in people again, four crates of goods is worth far less than than a sustainable future and perhaps an exercise in trust."

"You're full of shit," I snap. "And you don't have jack. We don't know you. We don't trust strangers."

"I know trust probably sounds like a made-up word now, like flibberschticky."

"Like klompf," Hilda says.

"Or moisture," Midge says.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," I sigh. "I really hope what knowledge you might have doesn't come from her."

"Stop," Enid says. "This isn't real. No way anyone survives going around doing what you say you're doing."

"But we do," Georgie points out. "And we will, because I can divine that you are a fine group… manners notwithstanding."

Michonne steps closer to Maggie, and Maggie pulls me over to the huddle. "We can make a deal," Michonne whispers.

"No," Maggie says with a shake of her head. "These people and their van are coming with us back to Hilltop."

I lean back against Maggie's desk, Jerry standing in front of me. "What's going on?" I question.

"The handoff horn started, but no confirmation hits," he updates me. "Saviors could've slowed their roll. Let 'em. We'll slow 'em down more.'

"That's good," I say. "It's gettin' dark real soon. Get people ready. You know what to do."

Jerry turns to leave, and we spot Maggie as she enters. Maggie says, "I heard it all. Go get 'em ready."

Jerry exits with a nod, and Maggie steps towards me. "You're gettin' this leader stuff down," she tells me.

"Well, I got a good mentor named Maggie," I tell her. "Soon as the war's over, I'm done, of course."

"Aw, that's a shame. I was gonna ask you to help me run things here."

"Oh, well… in that case, maybe I'll stick around for you." I glance down to her belly, which is just starting to show. "And maybe for a little one."

"Well, he's gonna need his Aunt Clary."

"He?" I question, raising an eyebrow.

"I can feel it," Maggie says with a soft smile.

Michonne walks in, announcing her presence as she says, "We should make the deal and let them go before the Saviors get here."

"I can't let her go," Maggie says, turning to face Michonne. "Not with what they have. I got too many mouths to feed."

"Maggie's right," I say. "They have crates of food in that van. People here, we could be starving soon."

"Maggie's right," Enid chimes in as she enters. "We take their stuff. Otherwise, someone else will. Someone else will kill them. It's a miracle they're still alive anyways." Enid steps closer to Michonne, lowering her voice. "The Saviors are on their way. We're gonna fight, and some of us will die, so why should we give a shit about people who don't give a shit about themselves? I mean, out there living like that? We take their stuff, and we use it. We stop pretending that things just work out. They don't."

"E's right," I agree. "We need their shit."

"Carl rescued Siddiq," Michonne says. "Now, we have a doctor and we have a friend."

"You have a friend," I return. "I have a bullet casing, the previous content of which I watched the boy I love put into his own head because of him."

I leave Maggie's office, letting the door to Barrington swing shut behind me. Enid follows me out a moment later, tears in her eyes. "She brought up Carl," Enid says. "And then took my gun."

I light a cigarette, inhaling before I say, "Yeah, she's known for that." I glance down. "Enid, I didn't mean to tell you what happened like that. I'm sorry. I know you… you felt something for him."

"I know he didn't return it," Enid says. "I tried to fool myself that he did, and when you told me to go after him, I wanted to. But I knew I didn't mean to him what you did. I don't blame you for that, Clary. You two, you were there for everything, ever since the beginning. He loved you, and I can see why. I was his friend and never anything more. And I'm okay with that, 'cause Carl was a great friend." Enid glances down. "Carl, he wrote me a letter, too. Said he was sorry for 'toying with my feelings.' That's how he phrased it, but there was nothing to apologize for."

"He said he wanted to marry me," I say, my throat starting to close up talking about it. I close my eyes, taking another puff to steady myself. "If we made it past seventeen, he wanted to marry me. He talked about a future, something for after." I glance over at Enid. "I took it, Deanna's camera. 'Cause it still had that video of him on it, when we first got to Alexandria. Has one of Glenn, too. Abraham, Sasha, Noah." I take my cigarette out of my mouth, offering it to Enid. "Want a smoke? I gotta get rid of it 'fore Jesus catches me."

Enid takes it, trying it before coughing and handing it back to me. "God, that's awful."

I chuckle. "Ron had the same reaction when he tried it." I shake my head. "Look at us. Two orphans that lost our boyfriends to the dead. Aren't we just a pair?"

Enid went with Michonne to take watch, leaving Maggie and I to deal with Georgie. Maggie carries out a crate of records, putting it on the ground in front of Georgie. "No spoken word?" the stranger questions.

"We're agreeing to your deal," Maggie says. "We'll fill your four crates, then you can go."

"You're gonna want that to be sooner rather than later," I tell her.

"I accept," Georgie says. "But I'm changing the terms. This one, no more. In addition, you can have a sizable portion of my food stores. From the looks of things around here, you need it far more than we do."

"You're giving us food?" Maggie questions as the twins get up to retrieve it. Georgie nods.

This is too good to be true, if there's one thing that I've learned. I question, "In exchange for what?"

"For records," Georgie says, "and good faith. To be clear, this isn't a gift. It's a barter. I'll be back. Maybe not for a while, but I will. And by then, I expect great things." Georgie goes to the van, pulling out a book. "Here is the aforementioned key to a future. Inside, there are handwritten plans for windmills, watermills, silos, hand-drawn schematics, guides to refining grain, creating lumber, aqueducts. A book of medieval human achievement so we may have a future from our past."

Georgie passes the book over to Maggie, and I look at it over her shoulder. It's nearly three inches thick, the handwritten title reading The Key to the Future. I look up at Georgie, questioning, "I thought you said it was in your head?"

"The originals are in my head," Georgie says. "I made photocopies. Still, it's been an evolving document since the copy shop."

Maggie looks up from The Key, telling her, "Thank you."

"Build this place up," Georgie says. "I want those other crates filled when I get back. Cheeses for Hilda, pickles for Midge."

"We'll see what we can do," Maggie promises.

"You will," Georgie says.

The twins unload the food for us, loading up the crate of records. They climb in, starting the van. Maggie and I stand on the porch, watching them leave. "I was wrong," I admit. "I'll admit that. I was wrong about her."

"We've got food," Maggie says. "And we got a plan for the future."

"If we make it past tonight."

"I have a job for you," Maggie tells me as we walk inside. She presses the book into my hands. "I want you to read this. I want you to pick something and help build it after the war's over. Got it?"

"Got it," I affirm. Maggie leaves me to The Key, and I take a seat on the couch. I open it, flipping through the pages.

"You can still build it, you know." I lift my eyes from the page at Carl's voice, turning my head to find him beside me, leaning down to read The Key over my shoulder. He tears his eyes off the page, looking at me. "The world we dreamed of."

I whisper, "It won't be the same without you."

"No, it won't," Carl agrees, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. "I won't get to see it, I know."

"Then what's the point of it? All of this, I did it for you. And for you to not be there, for you to not be able to see it, that just ain't right."

"I know," Carl murmurs, moving closer and brushing my hair behind my ear. "The world isn't fair, baby. It never has been, especially not to you. We all have things that we want, things that we don't get, no matter how hard we try."

"I want to see the next world, Carl. I wanted you to be the one to show me." Tears blur my vision as I hang my head. "I wanted you beside me as we built the new world. I want Negan dead. I want to be the one to do it. I want to kill Negan, but I don't want the fight to end, not quite yet. I want to kill every last Savior for everything they took from me."

"I wish I could convince you life isn't war."

"I wish I could trade my life for yours, Carl. I wish I was the one that was bitten and you were still here." I close my eyes as I let out a sob, and a pair of arms are wrapped around me, my brother pulling me against his chest. "I want him back!"

"I know," Daryl murmurs into my hair, holding me as I sob. "I miss him, too. But even without the people we lost, we'll make it. I know we will. We have to."

"Why is it always us, Daryl?" I whimper into his shoulder. "Why are we always the ones that take the worst hits? Why are we the ones who lose?"