Gregory died tonight.
There was little we could do for him after it was all said and done.
The memory of what happened after he was stabbed is etched into my mind. A movie set to a slow frame rate, destined to repeat itself over and over inside of my head. The man they call Ethan—the perpetrator of the murder—was swiftly captured by Rick and Paul. Where he is now, I'm not sure. There was an attempt to save Gregory. The Hilltop apparently has its own medics. They desperately tried to save their leader's life, but the damage was done. The serrated blade Ethan had used to commit the crime had severed a major artery and damaged both Gregory's stomach and intestines. Even before the Turn, with all of modern medicine, his chances of survival would've been slim. Without it, though, his injuries were a death sentence. The loss of Gregory could immediately be felt by even outsiders like myself. Hilltop is stricken with grief. On my cheek, I can still feel the stain of dried blood from Gregory's wound, where it had splattered onto me in the initial murder. I'm in such a daze that I haven't brought myself to clean it off in the hours since the attack. Luckily for me, Carl is able to stomach this stuff somewhat better than I am and he instantly becomes the support I need.
One could argue that trait is the advantage to being in a loving relationship.
Carl and I are very much pillars of support for one another. Whenever he is feeling pressured or under intense stress, I can not only recognize it, but also be there for him to help him through his rough patches. In that same manner, Carl always seems to be able to notice when I'm distressed for one reason or another. His support is much more subtle, befitting his more solitary personality, but I can tell he genuinely cares. Now being one of those dead ringer moments. Our group is assembled in what was once Gregory's home. Only the light of a cluster of nearby candles illuminates the dark room. Nobody has spoken a word in quite sometime; each of us lost in the memories of the day. To the side of me, the door to the room swings open and Carl walks in, carrying something in both of his hands. I'm too distracted by the horror replaying in my head to pay attention to exactly what he's carrying, but his stride is purposeful and he's approaching just me.
"Here." he mutters softly, bringing his hand up to my face.
Its not until Carl raises his hand and a sensation of frigid moisture touches my cheek that I realize what it is he has gone and gotten. A washcloth. A wet washcloth to be precise. Initially, I'm surprised; not having expected the coldness that now washes over my cheek. I quickly realize what Carl is doing, however, and relax as he begins to tenderly scrub the spot on my cheek which is crusted over with dried blood. I find myself transfixed by him as he sets his mind to removing the muck from my face, my eyes staying latched onto his own cobalt irides, which reflect the dancing flames of the nearby candles. It takes him a few moments, but he finally finishes, withdrawing his hand and the washcloth in it. As he does, I can finally see just how much blood was on my cheek. Enough to stain the washcloth a deep scarlet.
"Thanks." I offer him a warm smile.
A smile he returns.
"Are you alright?" he almost whispers.
"I'm getting there." I reply truthfully.
I'd seen death over the years, but, for whatever reason, I just can't seem to stomach it the same way Carl and some of the others can. It rattles me everytime. I'm honestly surprised that Carl puts up with it. He's of the mindset that gruesome death is apart of everyday life for us in this new world, so he no longer allows it to bother him. In a way, it worries me, but I understand why he's come to think like that. I can hardly blame someone who has seen as much death as he has in his short life. Even I haven't experienced that much trauma. Suddenly, from behind us, the door opens again and both Rick and Paul step into the room. Neither look particularly happy, though, of the two of them, Rick looks the most grim. The sudden tension in the room is thick and palpable. Everyone is on edge.
"Start talking." Rick grumbles.
Paul nods, but then regards Carl and I.
"Should I?" he inquires, gesturing to the two of us. "I don't want to scare the younger ones."
Rick's eyes narrows and he shoots us a glance. In front of me, Carl's gaze also hardens.
"You won't." Carl snaps.
"We may be young." I follow his lead. "But that doesn't make us helpless."
Paul sighs, "Fair enough. The only way I can think to put this is... the Hilltop... well... we have some enemies."
"We gathered that much." Daryl snorts from the corner of the room.
The redneck is leaning back against the far wall; arms crossed, one leg bent back so that his foot is planted firmly against the wall behind him. His posture is the definition of 'doesn't give a fuck'. I know enough about Daryl Dixon to know that his mind is already made up about this place. In his mind, its dangerous now, regardless of whether Hilltop or these outside enemies are to blame.
"Care to tell us who these enemies are?" Michonne chimes in.
"More importantly," I add, recalling the name Ethan spoke of earlier. "Who is Negan?"
The mention of Negan's name seems to have a profound effect on Paul. Almost as if he'd seen a whole horde of walkers just behind me, even though nothing is there. Illuminated by the pale flames of the candlesticks, Paul himself looks almost translucent with fear. Whoever this man is, just the sound of his name can strike fear into the Hilltop community residents; even someone as big and physically imposing as Paul. The bearded man closes his eyes for a fleeting moment, inhaling deeply and then releasing it all at once.
"He appeared when the walls were first being built." Paul begins. "Negan. Like you, Rick, he was the leader of some camp of survivors. Only this group of survivors got their kicks out of terrorizing other survivors. Negan called his group the Saviors and demanded an audience with Gregory. Despite all of his perks, Gregory isn't good with confrontation in the slightest. Negan started making all kinds of threats and demands and Gregory caved."
"Doesn't sound like much of a leader." Daryl spits.
"Gregory was a good man." Paul retorts. "He may not be whom I'd have picked to lead, but he did his best and the people loved him. Anyways, as a result of Gregory caving, Hilltop is forced to hand over half of everything we've acquired. In exchange, they keep the area around our community clear of walkers."
"These 'Saviors'." Rick interjects, stopping Paul's story. "How many of them are there?"
Paul's eyes narrow. Either he doesn't have an answer, or he knows that he doesn't have on that Rick will like. Either way, he begins speaking again;
"Truth is, no one really knows." he admits. "I know. Its damn stupid."
"That's one way of putting it." Michonne snaps. "There are two hundred people here. You could be paying tribute to a madman who doesn't even have the necessary backing to enforce his will against you. He's ruling you through fear."
There is an edge to Michonne's voice that I'd never heard before tonight. Almost as if she hates the weakness being displayed by Paul and the Hilltop. My suspicion is that she is still harboring some memory of what happened between Andrea and the Governor and resents other people who show the same weakness that got her dear friend killed.
"Our scout groups have seen Negan with groups numbering near twenty, and we're certain there are more." Paul continues. "Assuming that we have superior numbers could end up being our downfall."
"Nevermind that." Rick interjects again. "What happens if your people don't fulfill your end of the bargain?"
Paul freezes.
The larger man slowly makes his way across the room towards the window of the small room. Outside, in the darkness of night, fires flicker as residents gather outside their trailers for dinner or just general fellowship. A great sadness seems to sweep over Paul as he looks out over his people.
"If Negan doesn't feel that his group is getting half of everything we've got, or if they're feeling like reminding us just how savage they really are, they will either kidnap our supply run teams or go on a killing spree." Paul explains. "What they did today? That was a new tactic for them. I hope they don't start making a habit out of it."
"Why haven't you guys ever tried to fight back?"
To my surprise, its Carl who speaks these words. He's remained fairly silent throughout this entire discussion. His sudden voice in the conversation startles both Paul and Rick, who weren't particularly expecting either Carl or I to join in the talk at any point. Paul looks suspiciously at Carl. To his credit, Carl is much more hardened than most of the younger people Paul has likely encountered. He is probably having a tough time swallowing Carl's involvement in all of this, even if he doesn't say it outright.
"You have to understand," Paul responds. "That the people here are terrified of Negan and his Saviors. I've already told you that we have no ammunition. We can't fight back against a heavily armed group of thugs with homemade spears and a small collection of knives."
"So, instead you work your asses off and give them all the supplies you find." Daryl retorts.
"What if we were to kill these guys?"
Again, Carl surprises me by interjecting himself directly into the middle of this conversation. Its clear he has no qualms about getting his hands dirty in all of this. Only this time, Carl has roused a shocked response from not only myself, Rick, and Paul, but also Michonne and Daryl as well; and it takes a lot to shock the two of them.
"They're pretty bad guys, right?" Carl continues. "So if we deal with them, will you start giving your supplies to us instead?"
"You can't be serious?!" Paul exclaims incredulously.
"That's actually not a bad idea, Carl." Rick speaks up. "Our group doesn't have much in the way of anything. We're low on food and tools, and I'm not about to hand our ammunition over to you people if its just going to go to this Negan fella'. Perhaps that could be our trade agreement. In exchange for helping you with these Saviors, you'll give us a small amount of supplies."
Paul is visibly stunned. "Yo-You're actually serious!" he exclaims. "You're saying that will be your contribution? To fight for us?"
Rick shakes his head, "Right now, its only an option." he explains.
"Well," Paul says. "Its the best one we've got. Why don't you all sleep on it. We'll discuss it further in the morning."
Rick nods, "Sounds like a plan."
"Very well then. Follow me." Paul gestures towards the door. "I'll show you all some rooms you can stay in for the night."
####
The room Carl and I are given is dusty beyond belief; as if it hasn't seen use in years. And truthfully? It probably hasn't. Though a far cry from our little room back in Alexandria, I'm just happy that Carl and I have a room together alone. After the day we've both had, I need to be with him. Terribly. Carl seems just as stressed as I am, huffing rather loudly as he removes his sheriff's hat before lifting his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. I quickly follow suit and the two of us clamber into our bed in complete silence. The bed is significantly smaller than the one we're used to back home, forcing us to squeeze closer together, which isn't exactly a disadvantage. Certainly not something I'm going to make a fuss about. Additionally, however, the bed is hard as a rock. Was I not use to sleeping on the ground in flimsy sleeping bags prior to all of this, it would've been a real discomfort, but I'm able to adjust. Carl sighs aloud a second time, folding both of his arms behind his head, exposing the small patches of armpit hair he's amassed over the previous couple of years, and glaring at the ceiling in deep thought.
"Are we really going to fight?" I break the ice.
Carl keeps his vision trained on the ceiling, closing his eyes as if to process the proper answer to give me.
"I don't know." he finally replies, sounding not too entirely convinced. "I guess we'll do what we have to."
"Figures." I snort.
That manages to elicit a glance from Carl.
"What?"
"We finally have peace." I reply. "A safe place. We've lived there three years without having to worry about walkers, people, or even weather. And now..."
Carl's eyes narrow seriously, "If its in our interests, we've always fought. When we went back to deal with the cannibals in Terminus, against Nat. Remember?" he reminds me. "Sometimes fighting really is the only way to solve these kinds of problems. We've gotta do what we've gotta do."
My expression softens, "I know, its just..."
"What?"
Carl rolls over on his side, facing me, propping himself up on his elbow so that he can look down on me. Looking at him, the thought dawns on me that Carl has changed more than just physically these past few years. His demeanor and disposition towards certain things have evolved and matured as he's aged and begun to understand more about the world around us. In many ways, as I've noted before, he's started becoming more and more like his father. As he leans over me, waiting for me to respond, I can't help but notice how resolute the look on his face is, and yet, at the same time, how compassionate his eyes are. Gone are the days where he debates if fighting is really the right option. If it makes us monsters. Gone are the days where he will willy-nilly suggest we charge in out of anger or vengeance. Carl Grimes is no longer the hormonal teenager he was when I first met him. Though at the twilight of his teenage years, Carl has matured very much into the man his father intended him to become. He's ready to fight, so long as he knows its best for the group; the people he loves. At the same time, he is very conscious of my concern. The look he's giving me is perfectly indicative of that.
"What is it?" he repeats when I do not answer.
"Its... Its nothing."
I try to dodge it.
Carl has enough on his mind already. Dealing with my trivial concerns does not need to be among them. But Carl isn't having it. His gaze intensifies, almost forcing me to not look away.
"Don't lie to me, Tanner." he demands. "Wasn't it you whom, just yesterday, told me that we should bear each other's burdens? Not to take things on alone?"
Damn me.
Damn me and my giant mouth.
"You got me there." I concede.
"Then what?" he presses again.
"I finally have a family again." I blurt out. "You, your dad, Judith, Mich... You."
Carl's gaze visibly softens upon hearing this, but if he has something to say, he doesn't. Instead, he lets me finish getting everything off of my chest.
"That's something I never thought I'd have again." I go on. "My mom. My dad. My brother and sister. They're all gone. You. Your family. They're my family now. On the road, before the safe zone, I always feared something would happen. Either walkers, or people, or something worse. Something would come along and take that away. Then we had the safe zone and I thought we'd finally found a place where we could be safe from all of that. A place where I wouldn't have to fear losing my new family. Losing you. Now? Now we're going right back into another fight."
"We'll win." Carl tries to assure me. "Dad and I, Michonne, everyone; we've dealt with the Governor. We'll definitely win."
"At what cost?" I argue. "If something happens to your dad, to Judy, to you? Will winning really matter?"
That stuns him to silence.
But not for long.
Carl is never one to be caught without an answer.
"These guys are dangerous enough to threaten Hilltop." Carl says. "Its only twenty miles away from home. What if they come knocking at our door? What if they kill one of us then? Could you live with yourself knowing that you could've stopped them, but didn't?"
Now its he who has the point.
"I've been through that." he continues. "If I'd just killed the walker that I found in the woods, the day it killed Dale, he'd have lived. Dad had the Governor in a room by himself. If he'd killed him then, we'd have never lost the prison and all of those people. Lost Hershel. Beth. All of them. This time, we have to strike first. Before they can take it all away from us. I don't think I can go through that again."
After that exchange, there is hardly any room for words left, so I do the next best thing. My arms snake around Carl's bare torso and pull him into me. As usual, he doesn't resit, merely letting me envelop him in my strong arms. From there, he proceeds to snuggle into me. Even if I disagree with the method, he's right. Now that we know about these thugs, these "Saviors", we can't just ignore them. Alexandria is in danger so long as people like them are so close to our doorstep.
And I won't let anyone take my family away from me.
Anyone.
####
The stormy weather continues the next morning.
Even absent of rain, thunder rumbles in the distance. Its only a matter of time before the next downpour. Carl and I find ourselves outside of what was once Gregory's home, sitting quietly on the porch. Rick and Paul left us earlier to continue last night's discussion. At the same time, Daryl and Michonne have gone off to meet with some of Paul's men regarding the potential deal brewing between our two survivor groups. That leaves Carl and I with a day to ourselves and a new place to explore. I have to admit, the Hilltop is a visibly stunning setting. The community has more land than Alexandria does, obviously to account for its much larger population, and, even though our houses are much nicer than their trailers, the citizens here seem to live rather comfortably. Even so, I can sense a heavy air of mourning among the residents as Carl and I watch them go about their daily routines. Gregory's loss is being felt by everyone here. For a fleeting instant, I wonder how Alexandria would handle losing Rick.
I know I wouldn't handle it well.
I shutter to think of how Carl would handle it.
The loss of a leader is a severe morale blow. I'm sure that was part of the Savior's plan. By killing Gregory, they've sent a strong message to this community, that even their leader is reachable. Thought of the Saviors causes my attention to shift over to Carl, who is very meticulously watching the people of Hilltop proceed with their day. As he watches on, he seems to notice something that piques his interest, and begins speaking; even though he keeps his visual attention on the residents.
"Its so different here." he begins. "From Alexandria."
I cock my eyebrow, "How so?"
"Everyone... They're closer." Carl observes. "In Alexandria, everyone still operates in their original groups. There's been very little intermingling even after all these years. But these people? They all seem to know each other. Everyone is mourning the same way."
Only someone as intuitive as Carl Grimes would notice that. Returning my attention back to the community sprawling before us, I can quickly confirm that he is indeed correct. Despite being larger, that community is all intermingling with each other, exchanging condolences, words of support and wisdom; a very different vibe from home, where survival seems to be the focus of every outside conversation and people mostly stay to the groups they arrived with, with some minor exceptions. I could just pass this all off as Gregory's passing having a profound impact on the community, but even I don't think everyone in Alexandria would react the same way if Rick or Douglas were to pass. Perhaps Carl is on to something. These people have real chemistry here in their community.
"Its something special..." I admit in a low tone. "I'll give ya that."
Carl glances over at me and regards me with a soft smile.
When I was a young boy, back home, I can remember my mom always telling me that the longer she spent with Dad, the more she loved him. Even when she thought her heart couldn't give anymore to him, as the years went by, she found her love increasing day-by-day. Back then, I'd just shrugged her observations off. To me, it was just the ramblings of a married couple. Yet, Carl's smile revives that memory, stirring a warmth within my chest that I never get tired of feeling. I've determined that my mom's observations weren't just the ramblings of a married woman. Because I'm feeling that for Carl. I should be traumatized. After all the two of us have been through together, seen together, and survived together, I should be batshit crazy. I don't want to say something cheesy, like "Carl's smile has saved me from all of that", but its the truth. Returning his smile, I lean in and gently kiss his cheek.
A small reward for the love and consideration he shows me.
"You two seem to have woken up in a good mood." a familiar voice from behind us notes.
Turning around, I'm surprised to see Paul walking down the porch steps towards us. Carl seems equally startled by this.
"Where's my dad?" Carl demands.
"Relax." Paul waves him off with a smile. "He's meeting with your other friends and heading back towards the gate. Sent me to fetch the two of you and head that way."
Carl looks at me, obviously suspicious. I quickly glance between him and Paul before giving him a nod. I didn't see the hurt. If anything fishy was up, Rick would've raised hell and we'd have seen or heard it. The two of us rise from our sitting position and allow Paul to walk ahead of us before following him to where Rick and the others were. Paul seems to be enjoying the walk, having shoved his hands in his pockets, head slightly leaned back, and a defining smile on his face. His love of this community is quite obvious, despite the tragedy that took place only yesterday. Carl is watching him like a hawk. One wrong twitch and I'm sure Carl will have him at gunpoint without hesitation. That's just how Carl is. Despite this, Paul doesn't seem to be one for keeping the walk a quiet one.
"So, if I may ask," he speaks up. "What is your relation to each other?"
Well, I hadn't expected that one.
"What do you mean?" I ask clueless.
"Forgive me for being so blunt, but you two haven't left each other's side since you got here." Paul explains. "And then I saw that kiss earlier. Am I right to assume you two are dating?"
Carl throws me a smirk.
This Paul guy has a real big habit for underestimating the two of us.
"Uh," I stutter. "Its a little more complex than that."
"How so?" Paul inquires curiously.
I don't bother giving a verbal answer; flashing him a view of my hand, where my ring is quite clearly visible on my ring finger. It takes a moment for him to process it, but Paul's eyes bulge and his mouth drops all at once.
"Married?!" he exclaims. "At your age?!"
"Listen, buddy." I snap, somewhat annoyed by his continued reference to our age. "This'll be the third time I've told you. We're not helpless. We may be young, but we know enough to know that we love each other. So, yes. We're married."
Carl gives me an approving nod.
Its not often I get testy with someone, but, for some reason, Carl always finds it immensely attractive when I do and goes out of his way to let me know it. Perhaps its because I'm generally the "go-with-the-flow" type of person. Well, not when it comes to Carl. I don't care who knows that we're together and I care even less if they judge us because of our age. Though, to his credit, I don't think Paul was exactly judging us, more than he was just shocked because he hadn't seen such a thing just yet.
"How long?" the bearded man continues his questioning, ignoring my outburst.
"A year." I reply. "But we've been together for three."
Paul whistles upon hearing this, "That's quite some time. Almost the whole damn outbreak, minus a year or two."
"Why do you want to know?" Carl suddenly interjects.
Paul flashes him another grin, "Like I said, relax. I was just curious. Its nice to see love blossoming and surviving so early. Especially in these days. Wish we saw more of it."
I suppose I can accept that answer. Surprisingly, Carl seems to accept it to, walking a tad bit closer to me and using the opportunity to grasp my hand. I do enjoy going on strolls with him while holding hands, so this is nice. Paul seems to catch on to this and just smiles. Perhaps he was telling the truth after all. I almost hate to admit it, but I'm growing to like this man. He is quite the charismatic individual and, despite all the horrors this world has become full of, he's kind as well. Paul is a very rare breed these days. In that moment, I find myself agreeing with him. I really do wish we saw more people like him around. The world would start becoming a better place again if there were more like him.
"Your turn." Carl suddenly speaks up again.
Paul cranes his head back towards us, cocking his eyebrow.
"For?"
"You know something about us." Carl explains. "Now its your turn."
Paul chuckles at Carl's persistence, "Alright then, let me think." he says. "Well, for one, I'm like you two."
Now its Carl's turn to cock his eyebrow.
"You're gonna have to give us more than that." he retorts.
"Is it that hard to figure out?" Paul questions. Its then the realization hits me, but by then, its too late. Paul is already elaborating. "I'm like you two. I have a boyfriend as well."
I think that revelation hits Carl harder than it does me.
Ever since meeting Aaron and Eric, back when we first arrived in Alexandria, meeting other couples like Carl and I was no more impressive than meeting couples like Glenn and Maggie. It was just part of the norm. Perhaps Carl's surprise stems from the fact that Paul gave no indication, prior to now of course, that he is gay. Either way, Carl's surprise fades as quickly as it had appeared.
"What's his name?" Carl inquires further.
"Alex." Paul replies without missing a beat. "His name is Alex."
Carl accepts that answer and doesn't push any further. Our timing couldn't be any better. As soon as our conversation ends, we begin to walk up on the rest of our group, loading what seems to be a fairly large amount of supplies into the back of our vehicle. We both immediately offer our assistance, which allows us to get a glimpse at exactly what we're dealing with. Food and lots of it. Does this mean that Rick has struck the deal then? It certainly seems that way. Neither he, Michonne, nor Daryl say anything about it though. Once the last of the boxes is loaded for transport, Rick gathers us behind the van to have a final word with Paul and his assembled men.
"Despite all that's happened," Rick says. "I want to thank you for this. This food will help my people, and my family, through the winter. I can't put a price on that."
Paul smiles, "You know, Rick. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were starting to trust me."
"Perhaps." Rick replies. "My trust is hard to earn, but when you get it, I make a point to recognize it."
"Well then," Paul sighs. "I'll let you get back to it. I know you have people waiting on you."
"We'll be in touch." Rick declares as he leads us back to the van.
"Please do." Paul calls after us.
And then we're gone.
####
"Do you really think its wise to trust these people?" Michonne chides Rick after we've pulled out onto the road again. "These thugs. Their enemies. They sound dangerous."
"They are." Rick says.
"Those people can't even protect themselves from their own problems." Daryl chimes in, adding to Michonne's sentiments.
"True enough." Rick replies, equally as nonchalant as before.
"Then why-?"
"Listen." Rick cuts Michonne off. "That place, Hilltop... together with Alexandria, something historic has begun unraveling. Neither of our communities are prefect. Not even close. Those people back there fear Negan and his thugs, not walkers. In fact, they scarcely worry about anything outside their walls. Just like us. Most of the people in our communities don't know what its like to live out on the road, like we do. They wouldn't be able to fend for themselves. And yet, the live. The just... live. We have something special goin' for us. Both of our groups need each other. We need them for food and they need us for safety. We know the cruelty of the world around us and we use that knowledge to become the backbone of this new network we're creating."
"We're not trying to build an army, Rick." Michonne retorts.
"No." Rick replies. "But you know as well as I do, as well as Daryl does, as well as Carl does, as well as Tanner does, that anymore we have to fight to earn what we want. We can have peace if we fight for it. Safety, if we want it bad enough. Those people back there? We can teach them to defend themselves. Can you imagine? A network of survivors that know how to fight back against walkers and people alike. With something like that, we can finally do something about the walkers. This undead menace! Its only a start, but slowly, we can put back together civilization. Hilltop. Alexandria. This deal means a new ray of hope is finally shining into our lives."
Once again, Rick reminds me why he's been a leader for so long, and why he continues to be our leader. His words inspire me. For a fleeting instant, I can envision this world he speaks of. A world we've been fighting for over the course of five long years of the plague of undead. The walkers will never really disappear, but perhaps, together, we can make them a manageable threat and regain that which we have long since lost. A world where kids don't fear playing in the streets any longer, a world where we aren't forced to scrape for food like some sort of rabid animals. The world we used to know, or, at the very least, something comparable to it.
I find myself unconsciously gripping Carl's hand.
Like me, he is enraptured in his father's speech, but the feeling of my hand clasped tightly around his brings a smile to his face. I still have my reservations about fighting this group. These 'Saviors'. But Rick and Carl have both been right. These people pose a danger not only to our physical well-beings, but to the world we're fighting to create for ourselves and our families. For that alone, they need to be stopped. For Carl and the others, though, I know that this situation is also screaming Woodbury and the Governor all over again. And, knowing them, I also know that they're not about to allow such a threat repeat itself on their friends and family a second time.
Rick is not one to repeat his mistakes.
"I'm not going to let that light fade." Rick continues on as we round a corner, coming closer and closer to home. "Not when we've come this far. This is what we've been looking for. Every loss we've suffered and every day we've fought through has been for this. If this agreement succeeds... if these thugs are stopped... and if we all work together... We can stop simply surviving and finally start living."
A/N: There we have it. Chapter 3. The enemy has been named, but we haven't seen them in the flesh yet. Just who are these thugs, what do they want, and what threat do they truly pose? All in due time, my friends, all in due time xD I hope this chapter was as intriguing as it was enjoyable. I'm pleased to announce that, while writing this, I finished up tying up the remaining loose ends in my outlines for this story, and boy do I have a lot in store for you guys :D For those of you who are comic book readers and may recognize what some of these scenes are based on, don't get too comfy. Like the TV series, this fanfiction is merely an adaptation of The Walking Dead universe, TV and comics, so I promise you won't be able to predict how I take this x)
I had a few reviews for the last chapter, so I'll answer them now:
Kayden Pause: Yep. Nothing like a death to kick off a story, right? Unfortunately his was probably the most painless that will happen in this story, but, no spoilers ;) Thanks for your comment.
Guest: Yus. Negan. Its funny how one word can tell you so much, and yet, so little about what is to come x) I promise you it'll be good though.
Thank you, also, to those of you who have been PMing me your thoughts and support. Really guys, I appreciate it all. Keep your comments and thoughts coming. This story is only getting started and I have a grand tale to tell ;) Keep in touch!
Until the next one, folks!
Later!