Chapter 54

Rosita, Eugene and Aaron entered the small town infirmary quietly, filing in one-by-one. They stopped by the door as Aaron closed it gingerly behind them, and the occupants inside turned to look at who had arrived.

Tara gave them a small, weary smile in greeting and joined them by the entrance.

"How's he doing?" Rosita asked her softly.

"Not great, but he's stable," she answered honestly, and the four of them gazed at Rick's sleeping form. The two people who loved him most were hunched over and despondent by his bedside. "We gave him what was left and bandaged him up as best we could, but…he needs to see a real doctor."

"He needs antibiotics, proper settings, splints… He needs someone who knows how to do fucking surgery." Michonne's voice shook as she peered at them over her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Michonne, Carl." Rosita offered her condolences, and Michonne accepted it with a short nod, but Carl didn't seem aware anyone was around him. He sat blankly staring down at his father, his hand on his arm.

"His left hand is broken," Tara spoke, "but it seemed pretty clean from what I felt. The wounds were clear meaning I saw no bone splinters, so that's good. His right hand however…"

"Is a fucking mess, that piece of shit asshole!" Michonne fumed suddenly. "We should've taken the shot while we had the chance. Put that bastard down and we wouldn't be here right now."

"Yeah, we'd all be dead," Carl finally mumbled and no one argued. He was right.

"If he loses his hand-" Michonne choked, holding back the sob that rose in her throat, and Tara shushed her and rubbed her back.

"Maybe you guys should go," Tara said to the three still by the door.

"No," Michonne said. "They can stay. We need to plan."

"That might not be the best idea at the moment, Michonne," Aaron spoke gently, but Michonne glared at him and slowly stood up from her chair.

"That cunt Negan smashed his fucking hands with a wooden baseball bat. If he doesn't lose all mobility in both of them, he still runs the risk of getting an infection and that's the least of our worries!" She was shaking, tears staining her dark cheeks. "He could lose his hands… And if I lose him, if he dies, I don't care who stands in my way, I will get to Negan and I will kill him. Even if that means I die trying…"

"He is not going to die and he will not lose his hands," Tara affirmed and held Michonne's shoulder. "Don't give up on him yet. He will get through this. We all will."

"I haven't given up. I want payback." Passion rose in her dark eyes. "I want to see that motherfucker squirm as I crush his skull under my boot."

"Michonne is right," Rosita interjected. "We need to start planning. I don't care if those Savior pricks are camped at our door."

Aaron spoke up before they got too carried away. "First, we need to let Rick to continue to rest and then rest ourselves. We've been through too much this week, and frankly, I don't want to see anyone else get hurt or murdered in front of me… Maybe I can speak with the Saviors, tell them that Rick needs a doctor."

"Save your breath," Rosita countered rudely. "It's no damn use. It's been three days… They won't let us leave nor will they take us anywhere unless their asshole leader okays it, and we all know that fucking bastard won't grant us the decency."

"Okay, it was just an idea." Aaron sighed in irritation and crossed his arms.

"Everyone…stop fighting," Rick rasped from the bed and all heads turned toward him.

"Rick? Baby?"

Michonne was instantly by the bed, leaning over him to smooth his curly hair back, and Carl had straightened up in his chair, his one eye wide. They both had faint, hopeful smiles on their lips.

"Dad, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Rick muttered and licked his lips. His hands felt like throbbing weights at his sides. "I feel like hell, but I'm okay."

"I'm so sorry." Michonne kissed his forehead and fresh tears shone in her eyes.

"You don't need to be sorry," Rick told her and gazed at the other worried faces in the room. "None of ya do. We were all in it together, but I'm your leader and I made a mistake."

"No, don't say that. You were brave. You were trying to save us," Michonne argued.

"And I failed," Rick asserted. "For that I am sorry. I know we were all takin' a risk, but I thought… I thought we would have a chance, but then he had Daryl and Everly. It all went to shit then."

No one said anything for a time, choosing instead to contemplate the events and how the entire ordeal could have played out differently. Negan had known that they were up to something, had gotten tipped off somehow. Rosita was first to say that it was Dwight, but that hadn't made much sense to Rick. Why would Dwight come to them in the middle of the night to warn them? It had to have been someone or something else, but at the moment that didn't matter. Negan had let them live and given them more time, and most importantly, that had been because of Everly. Now she was stuck paying yet again for another one of their mistakes.

"Has the gate been fixed?" Rick asked, his voice hard. The thought of another walker invasion in the town had him slightly on edge.

"A few men are working on it," Rosita said and glanced at Eugene. "Einstein over here has been coming up with a motor prototype for a self-opening gate."

"Correct. Thought an autonomous gate would be most beneficial to the populace and especially to you, Rick, seeing as…" Eugene went slightly red as he barely stopped himself from saying something insensitive. "Well, I just thought it was a commendable idea."

"Right now, we have what's left of the gate propped up and blocked by one of Negan's trucks. The Saviors were either being generous or they were making doubly sure we couldn't get out," Aaron further explained. "We had a few gangs of walkers roaming outside, but we've managed to dispatch them quickly and quietly. Gabriel and Eric are keeping watch right now."

"That's good." Rick mused for a moment. "In the morning, I want some people to start diggin' a trench around the outside of the gates."

"Like a mote?" Tara asked.

"Exactly," Rick confirmed. "Don't dig too close to the walls. Maybe a good hundred feet out or so, and dig down deep enough so that it'll be hard to climb out. Maybe seven feet."

"Holy shit, Rick. That's going to take a lot of time and effort," Aaron expressed. "What do we tell Negan's men?"

"Tell them it's for the walkers, and if they let anyone, I need a few people out scavenging." Rick paused and looked at Michonne. "How much did they take?"

Michonne was momentarily silent before taking a deep breath. "Almost everything."

Rick forced down the lump of anger in his throat and gazed back at Aaron. "I want you, Rosita, Eric, and anyone else who is willing to go out all day tomorrow. Find as much as you can. I'll figure out who can start the trenches in the morning."

"Rick, you need to rest." Michonne placed a hand on his shoulder and her brows knitted in worry. She didn't want him to make his condition worse.

"And I will. I promise," he soothed, causing her to let out a soft sigh. "Carl, I want you to be my voice until I'm back on my feet. Only for a couple of days."

"Okay, dad. I'll do whatever I can. Just tell me what to do." Carl eagerly accepted the responsibility.

"I know you will, son." Pride filled his chest as he observed the man he was turning into, but instantly there was a wired bat dangling over his head. It swung through the air in a violent arc and Rick nearly cried out before it vanished in thin air; the wire and wood never making contact with Carl's precious head.

"Dad?"

Rick closed his eyes and cleared his throat, wiping the hallucination from his mind. When he opened his eyes again, he addressed everyone in the room. "What happened earlier today wasn't the end. We are nowhere near finished with this… We will keep fighting Negan, and I'm not going to let him smashin' my hands stop me from ending it. We keep on until it's done. Can we agree to that?"

"Rick…" Tara began and looked to Michonne.

"What?" Rick asked, his eyes roving back and forth between everyone.

"You've been asleep for three days," Michonne whispered.

"What?" Rick asked unsteadily. "It's been three days?"

"Yes, but your body needed the rest and we've cleaned up the town. You just need to concentrate on healing and we'll take care of everything else," Tara assured him.

Rick thought once more and gazed down at his wrapped hands. He wanted to lift them, and he tried to wiggle his fingers, but couldn't; it was too painful.

"Do what I've asked. That's the start of our new plan. In the meantime, don't worry about me. I will heal." Rick turned to Michonne and looked at her pointedly. "Okay?"

She nodded, but concern still soured her beautiful features. To her he seemed troubled and his eyes looked glossed over. He wasn't himself.

"I'll be fine," he stressed. "I'm always fine."

"I know." Michonne smiled and kissed him. She didn't want to say that she was worried about the day when he wouldn't be.

They dragged Daryl down to the basement, his feet limp and losing their balance at times. Every instance that he slipped or couldn't hold himself up, he would be angrily yanked to his feet and a kidney-bruising punch would be delivered to his side. Daryl wasn't actively trying to make their job any harder. In all actuality, he would walk on his own if he could, but the continued abuse did him no favors and the world around him still swam around his head.

"Right here," Negan barked, the camcorder dangling in his hand.

The men pulled Daryl to a stop in front of a set of doors that read, "Restricted area. Authorized personnel only." Daryl hadn't had the capacity to feel anxious before. The pain that filled him from every end of his body was a decent distraction, but he began having flashbacks to all the shit he'd lived through thus far in the apocalypse. There was no need to go beyond those doors to know that he would find nothing good.

Negan strolled in front of him, his nose and lips red. He hadn't been able to wipe all the blood off. "You ever wonder what this factory manufactured?"

It was a question that had crossed his mind since living here, but it had never been important enough to find an answer to satisfy his curiosity. Negan waited, but Daryl's only comment was a blank stare. He wanted the suspense to build, to make Negan frustrated with his lack of a response. It was the only power he still had.

Negan scoffed a short chuckle and tongued his split lip. "It was mostly rail and roadway equipment. A lot of heavy duty shit, highway signs, support beams, and whatnot, but apparently the assholes that used to run this place made more than roadway decorations. They also facilitated "discrete" products as well. Top notch shit compared to what I bet your snaggletooth neighbor probably made in his trailer next door. You catching on yet or did I scramble your fucking brains too hard?"

Daryl's upper lip curled, and he swallowed his spit instead of projecting it into the face of the asshole before him.

"Yeah, I guess that question was a bit optimistic, huh? Let me dumb it down for you. This place wasn't just a factory. It was also a plant, meaning it manufactured chemicals that chemists mixed together, did all their science shit, and ta-da! They made fucking drugs. I'm not exactly sure what kind, but I wouldn't be surprised if some of the shit you used to shoot up your arms came from here. To get to the point, there were a lot of leftover ingredients and equipment when we moved in, and between you and me, these people were into some kinky fucking shit…" Negan paused and watched Daryl with a sinister smile. "Now, Dr. Carson was an ambitious man and genuinely had kindness in his heart. Unfortunately, that kindness became a bit goddamned warped when he saw what this place had to offer. He and Dr. Avery made what's behind these doors. I consider it Virginia's own Area 51. Let's me show you around."

With a jaunty whistle, Negan pivoted and flung open the push-in doors. The Saviors gripping his arms hustled him into the space beyond, and instantly Daryl heard the moaning from the dying and the dead. The interior of the lab looked almost like a hospital, and the adjacent rooms were small and isolated with doors that locked; like a cell. They each had a window so that the subjects inside could be viewed and monitored from a safe distance, and it almost felt like he was at a zoo.

As he was pressed forward, Daryl couldn't help looking back and forth between each room they passed. Inside each one, he witnessed writhing bodies restrained on gurneys, people moaning with sickness or in the throes of dying. Some were unconscious, but the sweat that gleaned on their skin and their shivering limbs indicated that they were still alive. For each and every person he saw, something didn't look quite right about them. Not that dying ever looked right because all the deaths he had ever witnessed never had. But this was different.

"What the hell is this?" Daryl asked furiously.

Negan glanced sparingly over his shoulder and his puckered lips smirked as he continued with his whistling tune. As they passed a room, a disheveled woman flung herself at the glass, her bloody fingertips leaving countless red streaks on the window. She bit at the air as her pus yellow eyes watched them glide past and screamed at their fleeting backs.

"What is this fuckin' place?" Daryl yelled, terror finally settling in the bottom of his gut.

Negan stopped and turned to face him. "Now, Daryl. No one ever got any answers by asking rudely."

The palm of Negan's hand struck Daryl's cheek hard, causing him to bite his lip. He breathed through his nose, pushing back the pain.

"That's for nearly breaking my fucking camera." Negan shoved it in his face. "Also, this is Dr. Carson's room."

Negan smiled broadly as a Savior stepped forward to unlock a door to the left. Daryl was forced inside and to the end of a gurney where Emmett Carson lied strapped down. He was sunken in and foaming at the mouth as he whispered quiet delusions. His skin was pallor grey and green, and he had several bite marks all over his arms. They were festering, oozing, and the doctor's cataract eyes wandered aimlessly as he moaned in agony.

Daryl wanted to ask what was wrong with him – what they had done to him – but deductive reasoning had already led him to the answer. He eyed a few small, red puncture wounds on his neck.

"They were lookin' for a way to cure the infection, weren't they?" Daryl guessed, and Negan whistled in wide-eyed astonishment.

"Holy shit! That's one of the smartest things I've ever heard you say! Color me fucking surprised."

The doctor let out a particularly loud groan and shifted restlessly against his restraints. When he got nowhere, his pained voice died down and he relaxed his limbs.

"He was looking for a cure alright, but the dumb shit didn't quite get it in time, did he?" Negan laughed as he watched the man who had a figurative hand raised to knock on death's door. "He and Dr. Avery were working with other groups of doctors at different communities to find an antidote for people who have been bitten. As you can clearly fucking see, they haven't found anything that works other than slowing down the infection so that the patient is in limbo for a few extra, miserable days. Usually the people who participate in this study are voluntary. Dr. Carson himself chose this over Lucille or burning alive. Guess the asshole thought he might be an exception since he was the mastermind behind it."

"They told me. They told me. They told me."

Carson started to whisper to himself somewhat intelligibly. Daryl understood what he was referring to; the walkers that had supposedly spoken to him, saying that he was going to rot. Despite the horror that surrounded him, he felt sympathy for the doctor. He was a monster that had tried to do something good even if the ethics had been kicked out of the door from the start. He had killed while trying to save, but Daryl also thought this was a fitting end for him, and perhaps the doctor had chosen it on purpose.

"Are you just gonna let him go on like that?" Daryl questioned.

"Sure as fuck am," Negan answered quickly. "And I'll let you do it, too."

The condemned hunter looked at the answering man and saw that the camera was poised in the air again to catch his reaction.

"Hooo, boy, you didn't like that revelation, did you? Why do you think I brought you down here? To scare you straight? I could just give you the iron like Dwighty boy, but I think I need to take it a step farther than that."

"I ain't a bitch," Daryl spat, but he felt a weakness in his knees. "You can do whatever you want to me. It won't make a damn difference in the end."

"You see, Daryl, that's where you're fucking wrong. It makes all the damn difference, and I'll make a bitch out of you yet. You've already got your toes in the fucking little bitch door. You just wait," Negan pointed the camcorder at his face, "and see."

With a slight inclination of his head, the Saviors heeded their leader's signal and started to drag Daryl out of the room. He resisted, and rage built in him at the thought of dying strapped to a gurney while never having the chance to see Everly's lovely face one last time.

"I'll take the iron!" Daryl screamed. It wasn't a plea for his life, but for a shot at fulfilling his last hope.

"Oh, damn, Daryl. I knew you'd break eventually, but I didn't expect you to bust down the door of Little Bitch City this soon. We might as well call you the mayor."

Negan laughed as Daryl struggled, and his body ached with each twist and pull. The men started to overpower him, began dragging him into a room where he saw a stained and bloody bed waiting for him when the lab doors at the end of the hall burst open and a large man ran through them.

"Boss! Dwight is back and something's gone wrong."

"What?" Negan's smile died as his annoyance blossomed. "What the fuck do you mean, Fat Joey?"

"I don't know," Fat Joey wheezed. "Dwight and Trevor are back but no one else. He's saying they're all dead. Everyone."

"What the holy fucking shit?" Negan turned to the men who fought with Daryl. "Stop! Take him back to his fucking cell. I've got to deal with this bullshit first. Where the fuck is he?"

Daryl instantly relaxed at hearing the command. He wouldn't become a lab rat just yet, but the news that something had gone wrong with Dwight had a pit forming in his stomach. If he angered Negan or lost his position, Everly's chance of getting out of here would be gone.

"At your office waiting for you, sir," Fat Joey stammered, and Negan stormed past him, shoving the large man out of his way.

The Saviors who held Daryl roughly righted him to his feet and walked forward, hauling him back up stairs to his small cell where they opened the door and shoved him inside.

"You get one more night, dead man. Enjoy it while it lasts."

And the door slammed shut. Daryl took a deep breath, feeling the rough texture of the concrete walls under his fingertips, and he closed his eyes. He was alive; left to agonize and wait in the silent darkness once more.

"What the fuck, Dwight?" Negan growled as he came up to him by his office door, running a wet rag over his bloodied face.

"I don't know. It was a total shit show. Trevor and I barely made it out of there." Dwight lied, ignoring the obvious bruises forming on his leader's face, and he suppressed a smirk, trying his damnedest to appear distressed.

Too bad it wasn't me, he thought, wondering who had hit him.

"What happened?" Negan flicked him a quick glare before going through his office door. Dwight followed him inside.

"Pat grossly underestimated how many of the dead there were. There were hundreds of them; easily five. They had nearly taken over the entire outpost when we arrived, and they surrounded us." Dwight sighed, not too dramatically, and ran a bloodied and shaking hand through his hair. "Trevor and I fought a good few of them off, but the rest of my crew didn't make it inside. There were only two men left alive and one had already been bitten. We waited them out a bit, hoping they'd get bored, but a horde that large… They were persistent as shit. Eventually, we offed the guy who'd been bitten and made a dash for the truck. The last guy at the outpost was supposed to make a diversion and then we'd plow through the crowd to pick him up, but… They got to him first. We just barely made it out of there by the skin of our teeth."

Negan was sitting in his office chair and a hand had covered his sore mouth as he listened to Dwight's account. It was a detailed story, and he had no reason to not believe it. It was highly plausible, but he also questioned the lack of warning from the outpost itself. Not to mention how considerably lucky Dwight and Trevor had been to be the only survivors. He glared out the window, the moon high in the sky, and slammed a hand down on his desk.

"How many men is that?" He asked.

"Fifteen."

"Goddamn it!" Negan stood up and walked around his desk. "How come no one fucking radioed in?"

"I'm not sure." Dwight shrugged and he felt his palms become moist. "I think that might have been the last thing on their minds once they were surrounded. There were so many of them. A few had gotten inside, surprised them."

"Fuck," Negan remarked. "Why the hell did you go in?"

"What else should I have done?"

"Fucking left it alone and made me aware of the situation as soon as you fucking saw it!"

"I did what I thought was best."

"Well, your judgment has apparently gone to fucking shit," Negan insulted him. "Thanks to you, I'm down fifteen good men instead of ten."

"Listen," Dwight suggested, hoping Negan would calm down and take the bait, "I can get rid of them. I just need more men. We'll go about it less directly, lure them away and take out as many as we can quietly. It'll be tricky and take a few days, but it's possible. Pat was a fucking moron who got lazy in the end, so I can't say he was much of a loss, but I can fix this."

"Yes, you fucking will, and because of both of your dumbasses, we've got this shit storm to take care of," Negan sighed angrily. "How many bodies do you need?"

"Enough to get two more trucks out there and to repossess the ones we lost. I'm thinking we could also use something that will cause a lot of destruction but not make much noise. Think we could take that flame thrower?" Dwight caught the suspicious look that crossed Negan's face, so he was quick to explain his reasoning. "That way we don't have to get too close. Once some are on fire, they'll all start to catch on fire, and pretty soon there won't be no way to put them out. They'll kill each other before they can get much farther, and I'll be sure we lead them where they won't start a fucking forest fire or anything. We'll keep it contained and quiet."

"Okay," Negan agreed in a chafed, reluctant tone. "What direction were they heading when you left?"

"We led them northeast, clear away from any of our communities before ditching them and coming back here. I'm hoping that'll get rid of a good chunk of them by the time we get back," Dwight answered.

"Good." Negan nodded. "You and Trevor rest for the night and inventory everything you'll need in the morning. Find some men that won't be fucking dipshits that get themselves killed this time. We can leave the morning after that."

"We?" Dwight questioned.

"Yeah." Negan gave him a curious look. "I've got to deal with this shit, too. What kind of leader would it make me if I didn't?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it. We'll leave tomorrow night or early morning instead of the day after. It'll give us time to get into the area and assess what's going on from higher ground."

"You tryin' to steal my thunder, D?" Negan asked, a smile breaking through the worry. "Or are you planning something?"

"Nah, I just want to prove I can do some things on my own," Dwight acknowledged, and shuffled his feet.

Stay here, you fucking asshole. Don't ruin my plans, Dwight cursed him.

Negan eyed his shifting feet and let out a soft scoff. "Whatever. Just try not to lead those dead fucks back here."

"Of course not." Dwight's face remained straight as he fought to keep the corner of his mouth down. Negan had practically read his mind.

"And take Daryl with you." Negan changed his mind about the caged man. "Get rid of him. I don't care how. Make sure you witness how he "accidentally" dies so that Everly can have some fucking closure."

"Will do," Dwight agreed and left the room before Negan saw the smile that finally broke out across his face.

Edited by Nightperidot.

I am SOOOOO sorry this is super, duper late! I've been in a major rut emotionally and mentally the past few weeks and all I have had the energy for is sleeping (ha) and/or staring at a tv screen for hours. I'm slowly coming out of it, and I'm hoping that by this end of this week I'll be back to normal. I'm excited for Thanksgiving break because I've been fucking needing one since summer ended. I hope this chapter doesn't seemed rushed. I hated to keep you guys waiting, and I tried to get it done as quickly as I could considering my state of mind lately.

Also, big thanks to Nightperidot for offering to be my new beta! She also gave me a great idea for what I can do about the Neverly dilemma. Instead of including a scene between them at the end of a chapter, I'm going to make one that is very open-ended where nothing obvious happens but something could have happened. Once the story is finished, I'll do a epilogue type of thing where we'll see what actually went down. I think that'll make the story transition more smoothly and give everyone what they want. Those who don't want a Neverly thing won't have it, and those who do will get it in the epilogue.

Sound good? Okay! Great, grand, wonderful!

P.S. I plan on posting the next chapter this upcoming Monday to get back on schedule, and thanks to all of my reviewers! I'll try to respond to you guys soon (if I have the option).