Chapter 58
Nearly an hour had passed and we were coasting through the darkness at a steady speed. We'd had a few slow-downs here and there with debris and the occasional wandering dead in the road, but the farther we went, the more relaxed I became. I wanted to hold my head out of the window and let the cool air flow through my hair as I grabbed the wind in empty handfuls, but that wasn't an option. Instead, I chose to express my happiness by snuggling against Daryl, relishing his solidity next to me and breathing in his scent. That was how I knew this was real every time it started to feel like a dream.
"Shawn, pull over here," Dwight spoke, and the slowing of the truck broke my attention from Daryl.
"Why're we stopping?" I asked, sitting up to look around at our surroundings. There was nothing but dark woods highlighted by dim moonlight.
"We're getting nearer to central," Dwight informed, "but if something goes wrong, I don't want our absence to hinder things. I'm gonna direct Trevor to the Kingdom and we'll continue on."
"What about the goons following us?" Alan questioned.
"I'll tell them that the horde is nearby and Trevor is circling around to create another opening while we divert what's ahead."
"Seems reasonable," Shawn commented as he brought the truck to a rolling stop in the road. "Let's hope they buy it."
Without hesitation, Dwight jumped from the truck and marched to the one parked directly behind us. A short conversation was exchanged and soon Trevor was turning around, passing the last truck in the line that sat in the middle of the road, its beams shining inside ours like two lit harbingers. I quickly sat forward and studied the deserted road ahead, hoping I hadn't been too obvious or suspicious.
Up front, Shawn rolled down his window and the night air rolled in crisp, clean, and silent. I glanced sideways at Daryl, meeting his deep, blue gaze, and we listened for the short exchange between Dwight and Negan's Savior.
"There a fuckin' reason why he just flipped around and hauled ass out of here?" A deep, distant voice inquired, and we heard Dwight's faraway response not a second later.
"Trevor's circling around. He's gonna scout out the area on the west side and let us know how crowded it is while we clear the east. If there are still a lot of the dead hanging about, we'll lead them to a quarry not too far away. That'll take care of a chunk of them and get us inside the outpost to get some rest for tomorrow."
"Well, I don't see any damn dead shits fuckin' around. It's as quiet as a goddamn monk's house out here."
"Actually, monks live in temples-" Alan whispered sarcastically, but Shawn promptly shushed him, and the tail end of Dwight's response drifted through the window.
"-I'm making sure we're prepared so no more of us die pointlessly. Is that shit alright with you or do you want to waste some more time arguing about it?"
"I guess you're leadin' this shit. Be nice if we were in on what the fuck was going on before shit happens, is all," the Savior responded. "Why don't you use that walkie on your hip more often. Kill two birds with one stone, as the saying goes, instead of wasting time doing shit like this."
"I'll do that." Dwight's drifting comment was thrown over his shoulder as he stomped back to us.
"You think they bought it?" Shawn asked as he rolled up his window and Dwight swung into his seat.
"Seemed to." He shut his door and checked the side mirror. "Let's get going, but drive slowly. That'll give Trevor more time to get to the Kingdom, and maybe I can think of a way to not expose or get ourselves killed."
"Don't sound too optimistic," Shawn replied as he shifted into gear and we lurched forward with glaring headlights looming at our backs.
"Lane to Negan."
The walkie on the mahogany desk crackled, and the requested man left his spot by the window to scoop it up.
"What have you got?" Negan responded and waited.
"We've split up." The Savior's answer was short-lived as the walkie fizzled.
Negan grew impatient and returned to his window to gaze out of the murky panes. The walkie was on a low traffic channel, one that was rarely used due to its spotty frequency to maintain confidentiality. The Sanctuary leader didn't usually have to keep tabs on his people, especially one of his high ranking officers, but something had been niggling at his gut since Dwight's unceremonious return. He couldn't stop the dubiety that had unraveled as he listened to his second-hand man's story, and his thoughts had traveled to the many communities under his control, fixing on one audacious town in particular that had threatened to unspool the security he'd worked his ass off for.
Did a traitor stand beside him, feeding him lies like a wolf in sheep's wool? Negan didn't like that. He didn't like it one damn bit, but he kept himself leveled and prevented rash accusations. Bad decisions were uncomely, and it wouldn't do to assume Dwight's guilt without evidence. So, he set up a test; one to measure Dwight's loyalty and faithfulness. And the test itself was really fairly simple: Dwight would follow through on his task; nothing more or less. And the group of Saviors Negan sent along would see that the job was done. He hoped his lieutenant would pass without incident, but he didn't set positivism too high. He rarely did.
So in preparation for a failing result, Negan had prepped a large sum of men for an on-call mission, requesting they be ready to go at a moment's notice. He'd been vague with his requisition, not wanting to draw too much inquiry into the event if it turned out to be a wasted effort. Not only would it affect morale but it would shine a negative light on him as a leader. How would his soldiers view him if he came across as paranoid? Insecure? Keeping tabs on Dwight was safer, and Negan was primed if his unsought doubt proved real.
The walkie crackled, white noise spiking before Lane's garbled voice emerged.
"-said he'd circle 'round the west side while we took the east. Apparently, there's a quarry nearby he wants to dump the dead."
"You're with Dwight?" Negan walked back to his desk to pour a glass of whiskey.
"Yeah," Lane simply answered.
"How large is the horde?"
"Well-" Lane's voice broke into static but then immediate smoothed "-seein' much yet. Could be the lot of 'em moved on by now."
Negan considered the possibility that the crowd of shuffling dead had dispersed and deemed it likely. In subtle relief, he brought the radio up to his mouth and inquired, "Anything else?"
"Can we have a headcount on Dwight's men?"
"A headcount?" Negan's glass of amber stopped mid-air.
"Yeah," Lane croaked back, "wasn't there supposed to be only ten of them? I think there's someone else in the pick-up with 'em."
"What do you mean?" The glass of whiskey thumped on the desk as Negan went around it, yanking his jacket off of the back of his chair and slipping it on his shoulders.
"The van we followed had six men inside. Dwight has four with him. Last I checked before we left, there were only ten of them total."
"Where are you?" Negan asked as he grabbed Lucille and strode toward the door.
"Comin' up on central. Maybe a good twenty miles or so out."
"Stall them, but stay quiet, and keep me updated," Negan ordered as he flung open his door. "If anything new happens, I want to fucking hear it, and find out who the eleventh person is a.s.a.p. I'm on my way to you guys now."
"Yes, si-" Static cut in and drowned Lane's voice.
Negan wanted to flip to the main channel for a less garbled feed, but it would have to do for now despite how much it irritated the pure piss out of him. Dwight couldn't learn that he'd be joining them shortly. If this turned out to be a much bigger situation that what Negan was led to believe, he needed the upper-hand on Dwight, and keeping him in the dark was currently the best approach.
"Fuck!" Negan's yell bounced off the walls as he marched down the empty hallways, searching for his right-hand man.
A familiar face rounded the corner in front of him, and he grabbed the Savior by one shoulder, forcing her to remain standing.
"Find Simon and Bill and tell them we're leaving in fifteen goddamn minutes. Now!"
Arat nodded mutely, hurrying off in the supposed direction of his men. Negan assumed most of them might be waiting for the call to go, so he left her to the job while he strode towards the garages, wracking his brain over who the eleventh person might be. In all probability it was another man Dwight had propositioned at the last minute, but Negan wasn't totally buying that. Dwight had seemed pretty secure in his chosen number of men, saying that it wouldn't take many to wrangle the walking dead and move them farther north - especially since they were suppose to stop by the surrounding smaller outposts to acquire more help. But as Negan contemplated that, he realized he hadn't heard a fucking peep from anyone in that area since Dwight had come back.
Something wasn't right, and Negan stopped mid-step, a sudden feeling of foolishness turning his blood to steam. He glared down at the walkie in his hand, picturing a half-scarred face smiling in the passing dark, mocking him from a distance.
His grip tightened on Lucille, the leather of his glove squeaking against her polished spine. He closed his eyes, willing himself to find a shred of sanity through the igniting anger, but when he opened them he only saw red. He was going to catch up with Dwight and ask what the exact fuck he was up to. And after Negan squeezed the truth out of him, his best girl would place a much belated kiss to the side of his ruined cheek, and if she was feeling particularly thirsty, he'd let her take care of the country asshole, too.
He imaged their heads caving in; their blood and tissue coating his girl. His beautiful girl.
And a moment of stark clarity hit Negan, his eyes widening with sudden understanding. He spun on his heel and ran to the stairwell, bounding up the steps three at a time. He burst into his private hallway and dashed up to Everly's door, flinging it open brusquely and flipping on the lights. His eyes scanned the still room and landed on her disheveled bed.
Empty. Her room was empty.
She was the eleventh person. There was no need to check anywhere else in the Sanctuary; he knew that it was her.
Lucille swung into a shelf by the door and it splintered from the force, little trinkets and books falling to the floor in disarray. She twirled in a violent frenzy, wielded by her wrathful master, and she followed his commands without question, devoting herself entirely to his fury. It was her purpose, her duty, and she could never deny him her body. Her soul was his.
Negan didn't stop until he was out of breath and Lucille was a vibrating agent in his hands. The room lay in shambles; not one piece of furniture had been able to escape his wired lady, but he didn't feel near satisfied. Rage was scorching a path through his veins and it burned him alive. The only way he'd be able to extinguish the flames would be to extinguish the lives of those who had wronged him.
He gazed down at the radio clipped to his belt, tempted to press the black button on the side and let a drawn out silence be the archangel of his intentions, setting a stage of disquiet and distress to consume them. They would understand the implication, but where would the fun be in giving them a clue? If they wanted to be hunted, he was more than happy to oblige them, but they weren't going to get a second head start.
"I'm coming for you, little pigs," Negan whispered to himself as a sinister laugh filtered through the ruins of the room.
"Goddamn it, where're those greasy fucks when you fucking need them? They're a pain in the ass when you're fighting for your life, but when you actually need the rotten shit sacks, it's like they scuttled under some fucking rocks," Dwight cursed and hit the dashboard. He rolled down his window and the cool air ripped his lank hair back. "Fresh meat wagon coming through, you assholes! We've got four slabs up for grabs!"
"Dwight, what the fuck are you doing?" Alan asked and Dwight rolled his window back up.
"I'm trying to conjure up a fucking diversion," he answered and sat back. "The horde must've moved faster than I thought they would. A few were still wandering around here when we left."
"So, what's gonna happen?" Daryl sat forward. "We just gonna roll up to central and not a fuckin' thing is out of place?"
"What do you mean?" I was confused. "Didn't you say the horde attacked the outposts?"
Dwight looked back at me and then at Daryl, a knowing look passing between the two that had me feeling left out.
"There was one, but it didn't attack the outposts. We did while the majority of the Saviors were gone fixing the issue. It wasn't too complicated to take care of the rest them," Dwight revealed and my eyebrows shot up in surprise.
I processed the information quickly. "And Negan has no clue? Aren't there other outposts around here?"
"Not anymore. I used the mass as a guise for killing Negan's men. It wasn't that hard to follow through, and we only needed the lie to last until we were out of the Sanctuary." Dwight threw a cocky smirk back at me. "And where are we at right now?"
"So, how did you know about the location of horde then?"
Dwight sighed, but indulged me. "We heard the stress call around the area. Most men in the outposts will leave to lead the dead away while a few remain behind to look after shit. I saw an opportunity to get things rolling, so I did. We killed those who stayed and followed the others' trail. Killing them wasn't hard. It's easy to be Judas when no one suspects you and they're already surrounded by the enemy."
I was impressed. "Damn."
Dwight let out a single laugh, and spoke to Daryl, "We're not going that far, though. We don't have time."
"Well, we gotta do something," Shawn responded. "We're not too far away."
A pensive look crossed Dwight's face, washing away his look of pride. We sat in short silence before flashing lights at our backs grabbed our attention.
"The fuck?" Shawn squinted at the review mirror as the Saviors behind us continued to flash their lights followed by honking their horn.
"What the hell are they doing?" Alan turned around in his seat to look back.
"Tryin' to get us to pull over," Daryl answered, looking back as well.
"Should we?" Shawn turned to Dwight who sat indecisive for a moment.
"Everyone has their guns ready?" Dwight asked and was answered with three yeses. "Then sto-"
"Oh, shit!" Shawn exclaimed and slammed on the brakes.
I was sent forward against my seatbelt, the strap digging painfully into my gut as Daryl's arm held my chest back. Through the windshield, I saw what had startled Shawn so badly. There were maybe fifty or more walking dead ambling about down the road, the truck headlights capturing their sights and drawing them forward like moths to a distant flame.
"Well," Shawn muttered, "here's the group of rotten shit sacks you were looking for earlier."
Dwight cut him a sharp look, but I could see the panic behind his eyes.
"Fuck," Alan said as he leaned into the back of Dwight's seat. "I wasn't expecting this many."
"Shut up and get ready. We're gonna kill the asshole behind us quickly and get the fuck out of here." Dwight unbuckled his seatbelt and slung Daryl's crossbow over his shoulder. "Everly, stay in the truck. If it gets messy, do not hesitate to run. We'll leave the keys in the ignition."
I creased my brows in disbelief and looked to Daryl. Leave? Alone? He grabbed my face and kissed me deeply.
"You ain't running alone. I promise you that."
"Please, be careful," I told him, not wanting him to let me go. He kissed me again as the others exited the truck.
"I will," he said, and followed suit, shutting me inside a cage of metal and glass.
Lane slammed on his brakes just in time miss the back of Dwight's truck, skidding to the left and coming to a screeching stop before he plowed headfirst into a ditch.
"Motherfucker! What the hell?"
Lane took a moment for his heart to sink back down into his chest before putting the truck in reverse and backing up. He straightened it out in the middle of the road and recognized immediately why they had stopped so abruptly. Not five hundred feet away was a group of dead walkers coming right for them. He cursed again and addressed the men with him.
"Get out and figure out what the hell Dwight wants to do. I'm gonna radio into Negan."
The men followed his orders, stepping out of their vehicles just as Dwight and his group did, too. All except one, and Lane turned on his brights to better see who had stayed behind in the truck. He couldn't exactly tell. They were wearing a hoody that covered their head and they sat forward, unmoving.
"Turn off your fucking brights, asshole, and get out and help us!" Dwight's muffled voice was impatient.
He flipped off the brights and grabbed the walkie from the cup holder by his side.
"Lane to Negan."
"Go ahead." His leader's response was immediate which Lane was grateful for.
"We've come upon a problem. There's about fifty or so walkers closing in on us. We haven't quite made it to central yet, but we're probably ten miles out now."
"Who the fuck is in the truck with him?" Negan's voice was tepid, but Lane sensed a bound anger struggling for freedom underneath his tone.
"I'm not sure yet, sir, but I'm about to find out," Lane responded, eyeing the silhouette from the vehicle in front of him.
"I think one of my sweet wives ditched my sorry ass for some loser hick dick-fuck... Find out if she's the one playing stowaway in that truck, Lane, and I might promote you to be my new second-hand man."
Lane felt a second of surprise at the possibility that the veiled person could be one of Negan's wives, and there was no way in hell he was passing up such a generous offer. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I'm on it."
"And Lane," Negan said, but static music played through the walkie, masking his last words.
"No! Dammit!" He yelled and bashed the walkie in his hand and pressed the button. "I lost you, sir. Could you repeat that?"
"I sure can," Negan responded with an acerbic smile heating his words. "You let any of them get away… I'll break both of your kneecaps and run over your fucking head."
Lane looked down at the radio, not expecting that sort of response but heeding it fully. He swallowed, moistening his drying throat as he looked forward to see his men being surrounded by Dwight's. What exactly was going on here? He knew Dwight must be up to something, but he didn't know the man had balls big enough to steal one of Negan's wives…again.
"You just don't learn, do ya?" Lane shook his head at the slender man in the road who argued with those around him.
The timing was perfect as Lane slowly popped open his door and slipped out, shutting it softly. He kept his eyes on the group to his right, trying not to garner too much attention from them as they discussed who would do what with the approaching accumulation of walkers. The men didn't seem to notice his presence as he slipped up to the left side of Dwight's truck, and Lane came to a stop at the back passenger door, peering inside the window but unable to tell who was hiding under the black hood that covered their head. The click on the truck door opening caught their attention and a pair of wide green eyes set in a startled, pretty face met his before his head was slammed forward.
He bit his lip, a stabbing pain causing him to crying out as the taste of copper hit his tongue. Strong hands held him against the truck door, pinning his left arm behind his back and yanking his wrist up between his shoulder blades. He groaned from the pressure and instinctively pressed the button on the walkie in his right hand. It was pinned between his leg and the door, but there was a chance Negan might be able to hear the commotion.
"Let go of me!" Lane yelled, heaving bloody spit against the window he was pressed against. "You have Negan's wife! I see her! I see her right fucking now!"
"Shut up!" A voice roared in his ear and Lane recognized it as the one belonging to the redneck Negan had humiliated earlier.
"She's right here!"
Daryl didn't waste any more words on the belligerent man. He reared back a fist and slammed it into the side of his face one, two, three times until he went limp. He let him fall to the ground in a moaning heap, the walkie bouncing out of his hand and skidding on the pavement, a lone assurance that all their worst fears were beginning to pile on top of each other.
"They're fucking here!"
Shots rang through the air and Daryl ducked, whipping the truck door open and diving over Everly. She whimpered into his chest as a window busted over them, blanketing them with shards of glass. Daryl wanted to sit up and see who was shooting who; if they had won or should run. And as the gunfire ceased, he lifted his head up to see Dwight and Alan, but not Shawn. The others were nowhere to be seen.
"They're closing in on us!" Alan shoved Dwight as a walker gnashed at the air where he'd just been standing.
They ran to the truck, diving through the passenger door and Alan slid over to the driver's seat.
"Oh my God, Shawn. They fucking killed Shawn," he wept.
"We have to get the fuck out of here! Drive!" Dwight yelled at him, shooting walkers that were getting closer.
"Alan!" Everly screamed as the groans and growls of the dead increased through the busted window.
A single gunshot rang out as a spurt of red sprayed the inside of the cabin. Alan slumped forward, his large chest hitting the steering wheel and setting off an incessant stream of noise from the horn. Dwight sat back shocked as a swollen faced peered through the driver's side window.
"You stupid fucks aren't goin' anywhere."
Edited by Nightperidot.
There was a snowstorm in my area two weekends ago. We got about a foot of snow. It was the most damn snow I've ever seen in my entire life. A bunch of tree limbs fell in my back yard- HUGE ones. Then, an actual tree fell down and smashed my neighbor's fence and is now chilling out in his back yard. And we had no power...
But all is well now. It's sixty degrees out and most of the snow has finally melted, so we'll be okay. Everything will be okay now. Until the sky rains down white demon ice fire on us again! Seriously, though, snow is beautiful, but it was scary sitting in the dark and listening to loud crash after crash because all of the trees in the neighborhood couldn't take the weight of the snow.
This chapter was rushed because I hated having to wait so long to get it out! I am not coherent during the week to write whatsoever. My threshold for staying alert/awake dramatically plummets after 4 pm. It's stupid. And if it ever takes this long again to post, don't think I've given up. This story will have an ending! I promise you. But sometimes life gets in the way.
Speaking of stupid, that's how the mid-season finale ended from what I heard. I won't go into details for those of you who haven't seen the show yet (or have relatives who can keep their mouths shut unlike mine...), but wow... When I finally watch this season, I'll be going in disappointed. Bleh.