Chapter 69
He watched them as they encapsulated the dead one by one, their crowns and abdomens glinting dull metal in place of flaking, corroding flesh. It hadn't taken long, turning the useless dead into something now more potent and stable, and they stood stout, chained, and ruinous in their new fashion.
Eugene felt a bit panicky, seeing his idea coming to fruition. The Saviors had taken it a step further by covering their walkers' shoulders and chests with the molten metal as well. At first it had been accidental, a misjudgment on how much should be poured, but the mistake had turned into intent as they began to cover each one thereafter in the same way, shrouding the new soldiers in immovable armor, chains melded into their ironclad skin. It wasn't what Eugene had envisioned and he was sure it would be a sore sight for his group to see when they, the Saviors and their new army, arrived. The odds could always be turned in their favor. Eugene just wished he could tell them how it could be.
But other than the plaguing thoughts of how this would all end, he wondered about Sasha the most; he hadn't been able to remove her from his mind except for fleeting moments where his attention was captured by his work. While occupied, trying not to step on anyone's sore toes as the Saviors were always ready to bite, he'd fretted about her mortality. She'd been a blaring horn -a blasting van radio- in his mind since they'd dragged her in unconscious after driving straight into the Sanctuary with a dead army at her back. If it hadn't had been for her, they wouldn't be in this mess, which is exactly what Eugene thought they all needed: a giant fuck-up of a mess to clean up and in which everyone had a chance to dig their fingers into; his mostly. But it had taken a wrong turn somewhere and he was partly to blame.
"Why're you just standing there, bum fuck?" The ill-tempered Savior bumped Eugene's shoulder with the forefront of his fingers. It was the blond man, young and tanned, Theodore.
"Supervising," he responded promptly.
Theodore coughed out a sneer. "More like being a load of wasted fucking space. You might've came up with the idea, but the least your fat ass could do is pitch in."
"I'm more useful watchin', thank you." Eugene turned away, walking the perimeter of the large area. The Savior didn't pursue, but he not so subtly cursed at Eugene's back as he watched him go. It didn't faze him. He was too focused on the effort around him. It was overly crowded with the dead. Pretty soon they were going to have to push them outside.
He came upon another man who was larger than he was, sweating as he paced side to side like a duck waddling in place and cautious eyes trained diligently on the mighty dead. Eugene eyed him for a moment and came to the conclusion that he wasn't much of a threat. It was possible that striking up a conversation with him might provide clues of Sasha's condition and whereabouts. He might even glean some vital information on what else Negan had in store for Eugene's group. With calculation, Eugene moved closer to the man's side until he felt the heat pulsing off of his humid skin and cleared his throat. Unfortunately, his call for attention went unheard, so he sucked in the courage and blew it out.
"Gullet."
The large man twitched, his anxious eyes finally breaking away from the monsters. "Huh?"
"The gullet." Eugene said, deadpan. "If you wanna kill 'em. It'll be the best way seein' as the critical parts are metalized."
"They all look like Satan fucked a robot and shit these out." They both looked out into the shining sea of groaning hybrids. "It's fucking terrifying."
Silence passed between the two of them before the larger man spoke again. "Do you think they feel it? Pain, I mean?"
Eugene considered the question and came to a prompt answer. "No. I don't think they feel much of anything except an urge. Much like a healthy pup's need to eat of its own droppin's, the dead act the same way. Us livin' folks just happen to be what's on the menu."
Joey squinted his eyes. "Are you saying we're piles of shit?"
"Oh…no." Eugene's words stumbled. "I was just equatin' the need of the deceased to consume human flesh to that of a canine who eats fecal matter. A well-fed dog doesn't gain a whole lot from it just like the dead seem to not gain anything from eatin' us. There's only an innate urge to do it."
"Huh… Well. I could agree with that." Joey said, turning back to the clinking army, their chains swaying. "If an apocalypse is any indication of what mankind is, it's shit. Not that we weren't before. It's just all I see now."
Eugene had half a mind to disagree, but decided better of it. He wanted the Savior to like him, help him. A debate on the ethics of mankind before and after a world-ending crisis wouldn't do this conversation any favors. Instead, he changed the course of conversation into something more pertinent.
"I can't speak much on that, but I do realize life's nothing but trips and falls and getting up is the hard part. Sometimes you land in a shitpile…," He cleared his throat, "sometimes not. But right now, I have a friend here who's ears deep in it." Eugene licked his dry lips. "Her name is Sasha."
Her name seemed to get the big Savior's attention and he began to fidget again, almost looking guilty.
"You happen to know her whereabouts? Her condition?" Eugene probed.
Joey's eyes skittered all over the room nervously, his fingers twitching against his thighs. He sucked in a breath. "I don't know who that is."
"Judgin' your reaction, it seems like you might…but I understand the consequence of infringed confidentiality. I was just wonderin' about my friend." Eugene let the last word trail off softly as he turned away and a second later the word he was hoping to hear hit his ears.
"Wait," Joey said and stepped up to him. "I do know where she is." He sighed, sweat still beading his distressed face. "She's in one of the cells and she's not in a good way. Negan had me-"
"There you are, Fat Joey!" The blond man who Eugene had run into moments before was back. "I've been looking all over for you, figuring you were hard at work, but what do I see? You flapping that meat trap to the rookie here."
"Uh, sorry, sir. We were just talking about-"
"About what?" Theodore snapped impatiently.
"Shit." Eugene answered. Theodore blinked slow baleful eyes at him.
"Say that again?" The Savior's tone was low and demanding. He inched a step toward Eugene who felt his heart rate pick up, but he stood his ground.
"Shit, sir." He nodded toward the chained dead. "They smell like shit."
Theodore tilted his head toward the snarling crowd then back. He let out a mocking snort and rolled steel gray eyes.
"The only shit I smell in here is the stench of your mingling breath." He shifted his attention between the two men, and then settled on Joey. "You need to get your fat ass in gear and do some damn work. Not gossip about prisoners. And you," Eugene was his target now, "you have no business talking to anyone right now about anything other than what you were assigned to do. Maybe I should escort you both to Negan so he can go over exactly what the fuck your job description is here, boys."
Fat Joey shook his head fervently, his jowls jiggling like jello. "No, sir. I'll leave immediately, sir."
He strode away, his gait more of a blundering toddle than a stride, but his speed was impressive. Theodore cleared his throat and sighed as he looked down his nose at Eugene. Eugene peered back, keeping claim on the spot where he stood, not ready to move.
"Supervisor," the Alexandrian reminded the Savior, but Theodore's facial expression remained unconvinced.
"Negan," he retorted and held out his left hand in a "you first" gesture. Eugene felt he had no other option than to the advice being offered.
"Go first, or pay the price," it seemed to say. "I only give that offer once."
"That's what I thought," Theodore gloated and walked directly behind Eugene's shoulder, providing terse verbal directions as they ventured to Negan's office.
Upon their arrival, they were stopped by two guards. Negan was currently in a meeting with his lieutenants and was not to be disturbed until it was over.
"Can't imagine it'll take much longer," one guard said. "They've been in there for over an hour."
"We'll wait." Theodore nodded and directed Eugene to stand against the opposite wall. "Don't move and keep your mouth shut."
Eugene did as he was told, but not without a grudge. If he'd been aware of Theodore's proximity during his conversation with Joey, he wouldn't have broached the subjects of Sasha's whereabouts. But as it were, he'd been too zealous and negligent, and now he wasn't just a secondhand observer of deep shit. He was fully in it.
The office doors opened and a trail of men exited with Negan at their heels. They looked tired, angry, and ready to shed blood.
"One fucking hour, if that. I want shit ready to fucking go." His noticed Theodore and then Eugene who slouched against the wall. "Well, what the fuck is this? Are my new G.I. Joes ready to go?"
"Just about, sir. We had a few more left to chain and case. Shouldn't take too long," Theodore responded promptly. Negan smiled.
"Fucking excellent." He stopped in front of Eugene, Lucille by his side, and patted him on the shoulder roughly. "My new Savior. My new friend… I think when your old pals see who's clawing at their dangling fucking door, pee-pee pants city will surely turn into I-just-shit-my-goddamn-pants capital. I might even erect a statue of Prick and name him the founder. What do you think?"
Eugene began to tremble; not with fright or duress, but with choler. He wanted to say that the Alexandrians were the ones who were ready. They wanted to fight. And no matter what Negan dragged to their door, no matter how much of a fight Negan threw at them, the Alexandrians would give just as much back. They would be shocked about the walkers, no doubt, but they hadn't come this far to die from lack of resiliency and resourcefulness. They would find a way to survive. They always did.
"Actually, sir," Theodore spoke before Eugene had a chance to think of what to say, "I brought Eugene to you because I caught him asking about the girl. He wanted to know where she was."
Negan lifted his brows. "That so?"
Eugene swallowed and nodded. "Yes, sir. It is."
A short, low chuckle emanated from Negan and he rubbed his eyes with one hand. "Thank you, Theodore. You can head back downstairs now. Help get shit loaded the fuck up."
"Sir." Theodore's voice was weighed down with disappointment. He must've really been looking forward to witnessing Eugene's punishment, or carrying it out. He gave the Alexandrian once last scathing look before turning on his heel and stomping down the corridor.
When they were alone, Negan let out a weary sigh and threw back his head, rolling it as he stretched his neck.
"Jesus fucking Christ, this shit never fucking ends. I've had all but maybe five fucking hours of sleep the last damn few days. I think I'm starting to fucking hallucinate." Negan brought his head back to center and regarding the man before him. "Is what Theo says true? You wanna know about your old pal, Sasha?"
Eugene gave a silent yes.
"Let's go on a stroll." The Sanctuary leader pulled on Eugene's arm and they began to move. He swung Lucille up on his shoulder. "What exactly do you want to know?"
Shitpiles, Eugene thought. Tread carefully.
"If she's still alive."
Negan shrugged. "Could be."
Eugene wasn't sure what else to say after that. That hadn't been much of an answer and its ambiguousness was enough to tell him that Negan rather not say more; whether it was because he didn't care or he wanted to play with him. Most likely, it was both. Eugene felt uncomfortable pressing for the truth, but he couldn't give up.
"If you don't mind me askin', how does this all end?" He asked, keeping his gaze straight ahead. "What outcome is the best possible scenario for you and your people?"
"Seriously?" A hint of humor was in Negan's voice. "Dr. Modern-Day-Frankenstein can't figure out what the fuck I want?"
"I am aware of your desire for destruction and vengeance. That is not lost on me, sir. What I find curious is how this will affect your resources and support; your bread and butter, so to speak." Eugene began to sweat a little. "Not to overstep my boundaries, sir, but can the Sanctuary sustain if you spend every ounce of power you have fightin' against Alexandria?"
Negan let the silence hang between them, the only sound being the rubber soles of their shoes treading through the halls as they walked. Eugene started to wonder if he'd made a mistake. If maybe he should've just begged for mercy and then kept his damn mouth shut. Then Negan spoke.
"What the fuck does this have to do with that bitch?"
"You can use her." Eugene licked his lips nervously; almost in excitement. "If she's alive and can be saved, her life will hold value in this war. Mine will as well, but with two guaranties you'll have a higher chance of prosperity."
"Eugene," Negan said, that hint of humor back in his voice, "do you honestly think that your life means anything to them? You can't be that fucking gullible… Sasha drove a van into my home. She led the dead here, to us, so we'd be outnumbered, overrun, and cornered. She did not do that out of concern for you. Rick did not send her to do that out of fucking concern for you." Negan stopped and grabbed Eugene's arm to look down at him. "Your lives do not guarantee me any-fucking-thing."
"Counterpoint: devastation to Alexandria gets you what you want. Perhaps you leave it as is and never rebuild it as a reminder. Perhaps you do. But what's left? Alexandria is one of the most fortified communities, government built with running water and electricity." He took a quick breath. "Pardon me if I'm speaking out of turn, sir, but it would be a waste. The way I see it, you need to regain control. What better way than to show mercy? Use what pawns you have rather than skippin' to the last resort."
Negan's mouth hardened as he gazed narrowly down at Eugene.
"Don't try to play me for a fucking fool. I will drench you in that fucking molten metal and string you up at the goddamn front."
"I'm not, sir," the shorter man responded hastily. "It is simply something to consider. Obviously, what you decide is indisputable."
The leader took a moment, glowering. Eugene did have a point. But what choice had Rick left him? That stubborn son-of-a-whore wasn't going to let up. No matter who was caught in the crossfire. However, having two Alexandrians alive and under his care did put him at an advantage. It was possible he could turn Rick's ruthlessness on him; show his people what he truly was, how much he truly cared for anyone. He could win this without even hardly trying. And if Sasha was past saving, he could use the illusion of her wellbeing as his token. Convincing Eugene would be the hard part. That meant he'd better get to work now if he was going to do this.
"Thank you, Eugene." Negan's face softened as he smiled. Eugene's tense shoulders slackened a bit, but they were still pushed high. "We'll get Sasha all patched up if she's still hangin' around. I'm sure Dr. Avery will find a special place for her to rest."
He'd make sure Dr. Avery would have a bed for her, alright. He'd pass him the key to Sasha's cell, and if she was still breathing, he'd take her to the infirmary. Not the one upstairs, no. The infirmary in the basement; the one where the infected also rested, waiting to die and be born again. If anything went south with the Alexandrians and that asshole Dwight, well, Dr. Avery would know what to do. Sasha would be his guaranty indeed.
Merrit's visit was a surprise; more so since she had the Oceanside women with her. Everyone's confidence had grown with their appearance. They'd had a strong army before. It had grown even stronger now.
King Ezekiel had taken to Merrit at once, and Dwight couldn't really blame him. The woman was stunning. She was unique in a noticeable way; like an ebony porcelain doll. Her skin glowed and she held herself with such dauntlessness and poise, it was hard not to be sucked in by her energy. King Ezekiel being such a self-possessed figure as well, they made quite the courageous pair. Seeing all of the groups band together lifted spirits and Dwight felt some of that faith high in himself. They could win this.
All of the leaders had gone over the final plan. They would travel to the Sanctuary, some by vehicles but most by foot. They wouldn't get too close; not yet, anyway. Sentries had been sent ahead to scout and radio back if something when awry. Once they were there, however, they would flank the Sanctuary borders and line up their sights. They'd use launched explosives, mostly the rocket launchers they were able to secure, but they had grenades as well among other artillery. This war wasn't going to be pretty, but it just might be an easy victory.
There was one hitch in this plan that Dwight had reluctantly agreed to. He hadn't wanted to, and neither had his men, but they were outvoted 3 to 1. Before attacking, Rick would radio to Negan, demanding his surrender. Immunity would be offered to those who surrendered peacefully, but if not, a war in which the Saviors couldn't win would be waged. Obviously, they knew Negan would not give in so easily. Yet, being completely surrounded and pinned in by the dead may be the game changer they needed.
"We about ready to head out?" Rick approached Dwight. Dwight nodded, breaking from his thoughts.
"Yeah," he said. "My men are all set; seems as if everyone else is to. I can practically taste the anticipation."
"You ever hear back from your men keepin' a look out?" Rick's face was still pale, but he looked more alert, focused, and worried.
"Nah," Dwight breathed out heavily through his nose. He could guess what might have happened and the dread in his stomach told him it probably wasn't anything good. "I've tried to reach them, but no answer."
"Then we should move now," Rick responded. "Our men haven't reported much in the way of Saviors or the dead between here and there. We'll go on while it's clear."
"Sounds good." Dwight glanced down at Rick's bandaged hands. "You'll be okay?"
"I'm fine," Rick said somewhat irritably. "I'm more concerned about seein' this through."
The former sheriff headed off and Dwight turned to his waiting men.
"Remember, we give Rick his chance, but if Negan isn't willing to hear us out or accept our conditions-"
"And we know he won't," Trevor interrupted petulantly.
"Then we go ahead with ours." Dwight finished and explained once more to make things clear. "We hit the east side as hard as we can; make the fucking foundation cave in. That'll take out a large portion of the herd but also kill most of Negan's men. Those who aren't a part of it will be on the west side, ready to escape. Trevor, you, Wade, and Dan know what to do."
Get my wife out, he thought fiercely. I couldn't give a fuck about anyone else. Just get her out.
The commotion of engines roaring to life and doors slamming shut told him it was time. Dwight inhaled deeply, afraid for what was to come.
I've tried to reach them, but no answer. He remembered his words from a few moments before about Vic and Thomas stationed by the Sanctuary. He radioed multiple times and all that had responded was silence.
"Let's go," Dwight said, choking down his fear.
His Saviors had already found them, watching the road and waiting. They'd hidden themselves well amongst the trees and brush, but his men had been better and taken them down without so much as a scuffle. That's what he liked to hear. It was like worrying yourself sick over an exam that began way easier than you'd thought.
"We managed to take them all out," his Savior informed him.
"That's fucking swell, Robby." Negan complimented, feeling triumphant already.
"There is one thing of importance, sir."
This caught Negan's immediate attention.
"His whole army is heading toward us and it's not just the Alexandrians. There're a lot of them."
Negan's brief moment of gratification came to a screeching halt and his mouth flattened. "How many?"
"A lot. I can't give an exact estimate, but it's more than we thought."
Negan ground his teeth together. He was pissed. They'd already left the Sanctuary just under an hour ago, pushing the chain-gang of the dead ahead of them. They were at the back, moving so slowly that Negan felt he might lose control and use Lucille on one of his men just to get the frustration out, but he'd kept his cool.
Simon, sensing his leaders change in mood, spoke. "Think we should wait 'em out? Let them come to us and ambush them?"
"No," Negan said, staring out of the windshield of the idling truck. "We don't have enough time. They'll know something's the fuck up when they see their scouts are missing. We'll keep moving forward and meet those fuckers half way."
"Alright then," Simon said with a smile. "You heard the man. Let's fucking rock and roll, fellas!"
The Saviors dispersed, going to the respectable vehicles as Simon started the truck again. The vibrations of the engine under Negan's feet was soothing and he closed his eyes, trying to breathe out his irritation. It helped somewhat, but Lucille was twitching in his hand and he knew the only way he'd truly feel better was through her. His hand landed hard on the knee of the Alexandrian beside him.
"You know something we don't, Eugene?"
"Uh, no," he choked. "No, sir. Not any more than you do."
Negan held up Lucille under Eugene's chin. "You sure about that?"
Eugene nodded his head, but Lucille was already in the air, and he let out a short, high pitched cry as she came rushing down.
"You stay in the damn truck, you hear me?"
I bobbed my head silently, watching the silhouetted trees crawl by against the twilit sky. Their branches were turning bare, dead leaves littering their feet. I watched all the people surrounding our truck as they walked alongside us and wondered if that's what we would all look like soon: dead bodies covering the road, crumbled and strewn about, but no. We wouldn't look like that. Dead leaves didn't come back to life and reattach themselves to a tree, rotting it. That was only us.
"And be ready to shoot," Tara continued to instruct me, her tone chastising. "And if shit gets really bad, drive the fuck away. Even if the Saviors don't kill me, Daryl will if anything happens to you. And another thing-"
"I've got it, Tara. I promise to do everything you've told me to. It'll be fine."
"We'll see. Plus, you owe me one; especially after Daryl wrings my neck."
I met her eye in the review mirror and we both smirked. I gave her a wink, but the banter died as I gazed out the window again, anxious. Would it be fine? Would I ever get the chance to pay Tara back for bringing me along against my other half's ardent wishes? I guess by the end of it, we would see, like Tara said. I just hated that it would take living through it to know.
I felt ashamed for betraying Daryl's trust. I told him I'd stay back and out of the fight when it came time, but I couldn't. Yet, he must know that it would have been impossible for me to remain in Alexandria. How much of a good listener was I really? Not a great one, I could wager that. It would have taken him tying me down to get me to stay and maybe not even then. It was too late now, though, to worry about what he would think. He would be mad, sure, but I'd already gotten this far; might as well save that fight for later.
"What the hell?" Tara spoke as she crept the truck to a stop. The crowd on foot had stopped too, whispering to each other, confused.
"What's going on?" Aaron asked from the passenger seat, sitting up straight. He and Tara exchanged nervous glances.
"Stay in the car." Tara's eyes met mine in the mirror again and I nodded, my mouth a firm line of worry.
Both she and Aaron exited the vehicle, the shutting click of their doors final. They mingled into the crowd as I gazed around, trying to decipher what could be happening. I wasn't great at reading lips and the murmurs were quiet, almost silent. It took all of my restraint not to open the door and get out. I bowed my head, raking back my hair and taking a deep breath as my anxiety began to grow. My knee bobbed. It was something to keep me distracted while I waited; waited for screams, shouts, gunfire, whatever. The thought made my ears prickle as my senses became more aware. I was actively searching for those sounds now; sounds of death and anger. When would it come?
I shot up, gulping in a deep breath of air and searching the sea of bodies before me, but they were the same; alive and wondering, like me. I started to feel sick; the feeling rising in my chest which had started to clench with a heavy weight. If we didn't start moving again, I might lose it before anything started. I wanted to find Daryl, but I dug sharp nails into my jeans, the shaking of my legs causing them to streak down the sides of my thighs.
What was happening?
The driver's side door abruptly opened and Tara quickly climbed inside, her hands on the wheel and driver's seat. Her eyes were round in panic.
"You need to go back. Now."
"What?" I asked.
"You need to get in this fucking seat and turn around."
The murmurs outside of the truck began to rise and I glanced around fervently as people began to back up.
"What is going on?" I said as I climbed over the console, but I was suddenly pushed into the passenger seat.
"Ah!" Tara yelped, her features twisted in pain.
"Hey!" I yelled and climbed over her, pushing against the driver door that was pinning her legs. The group outside was beginning to panic and in their panic they were shoving one another. I banged on the window. "Hey! You're hurting her!"
A Somerset man looked over his shoulder at me, sweat beading his firm face. "Let off!" He yelled and pushed against the crowd as others by him followed. The weight shifted and I was able to push the door open enough for Tara to get her legs in.
"Shit!" She gasped.
"Are you okay?" I asked, scared.
"Yes," she groaned, rubbing her legs. "That just hurt a fucking lot."
"What is happening Tara?" I asked again, hovering over her.
She looked up at me, heaving. "They're here."
I sat back and glanced out of the windshield. The soldiers were pitching back and forth, pushing forward and falling back. Why wasn't anyone fighting? Why weren't they all moving forward?
Tara must've noticed my confusion. "It's the horde. They're using the horde to attack first."
Shit. A sudden burst of distant gunfire broke the air. An explosion.
"I've gotta find Daryl." I made a grab for the door handle, but Tara was faster. She pulled on my wrist.
"No! We turn back! That was the deal."
I yanked against her grip. "Fuck the deal! What's the point of running if they're just going to be at our door once they're done here?"
"We have to try to go back. Warn the others and move!" Tara tried to reason. She let go of me long enough to shift the truck into reverse. I saw the taillights paint the dense crowd red, saw it glowing in their eyes. There was no getting out of this. We were stuck.
"Move!" Tara yelled, honking the horn, but there wasn't anywhere for them to go. We were packed in, all of us. "Why the fuck aren't they getting out of the way?"
I opened the door, pushing against the soldiers near it, and bolted.
"Everly!"
"What's happening?" I grabbed their nearest soldier.
"We're being attacked! From the front and the back!" He yelled and moved away in a hurry, his weapon in his hands.
I gripped mine in the holster at my side, going through all of the motions in my head for using it. Unsnap, lift, point, aim, shoot. Unsap, lift, point, aim, shoot. Unsnap-
"Everly! What the fuck?" Tara practically screamed at me as she came up to my side. I turned away from her and surged through the masses; she followed after me.
"We have to help!" I called over my shoulder.
She didn't say much more as we rushed through the conflux. People were so packed it was like wading through shoulder-high water. The further we went, the less crowded it became, and the less crowded it became, the more I felt the panic in the air. I wasn't entirely sure of what I was about to run into, but I knew I wasn't ready to find Daryl dead. I ran faster.
"Everly, slow down!" Tara's voice grew faint as the gunshots grew louder. I heard the roaring of the dead and the grunts of the living. We were close.
I broke past the frontline and into the fight. There were walkers everywhere, both old and new. Our own soldiers fought against us, now perished and reanimated, and the walkers were chained together, forming a moving line that spanned the entire length of the road and part way into both shoulders. They had us trapped, netted in like a school of fish, and they pushed our living dead into us like an army of gilded juggernauts.
"Holy fuck," Tara breathed at my side.
"Tara! Everly!" Aaron and Rosita ran up to us. "Get back!"
They flanked our sides as we watched the fight. Soldiers behind and around us waited for an opening to run forward and attack. Some of them were lucky, catching a walker in the right spot or throwing a grenade into the middle of the herd, but the walkers kept pressing forward. Nothing was stopping them.
"Get ready to fight!" Aaron warned us and I drew my weapon.
Point. I took in a breath. Aim. I held it. Shoot. I pulled the trigger and the bullet dinged off the metal head of a far away walker. I breathed out.
"Dammit."
"Keep going!" Rosita encouraged, shooting walkers left and right.
I did. I focused on the dead closest to us, shooting those who had been on our side at the start of it and now were part of the undead. I felt a loss as I killed them; each shot widening the chasm in my chest. But I kept on and reloaded when I needed to.
"Move back!" A soldier yelled and we did, keeping our distance.
I kept my gun up and used the short reprieve to scan the sea of determined faces for Daryl's, but I couldn't spot him. I saw Michonne wielding her katana, heard King Ezekiel shouting orders as his beloved Shiva roared, but everyone else was buried under the array.
He's fine, I thought. He's a fighter, stronger than me. If anyone makes it out of this, it'll be him.
That put my heart at ease and gave me hope. I gazed at the advancement, the chains linking the dead together, bonding them. Where was Negan in all of this? This was clearly his master plan, so where was the master?
"Coward," I whispered to myself, glaring at the horde. I moved a few feet to the right to get a clear shot of the frontline. A grenade was thrown before I could fire and chunks of old and rotten human flesh flew through the air. I watched it rain down, half sick and half amazed. Guns weren't going to work in this fight. We needed more explosions.
I went to turn around to find Rick, Dwight, anyone to get more explosives to level this out when a sharp, burning pain surged in my right wrist and I dropped my gun with a yelp. Holding the appendage to my chest, I faced who had attacked me: a walker. I stumbled back, nearly tripping as what I wished fervently to not be real stood before me. I clutched my wrist in pain and complete denial.
It had bitten me.
Edited by Nightperidot.
Bum, bum, BUUUUUM! Oh, what have I done? Nothing like coming back from a hiatus to royally piss all of you off. Okay, before I say anymore, I just want to apologize (as per usual) about my too long of an absence (as per usual) and to let you know that I'm on new medication that has finally seemed to balanced me out, so maybe my motivation and energy levels will be more balanced as well. As far as my physical health, I'm about 80% healed, so that's a plus as well. I am hoping to post weekly, or at least bi-weekly, from here on out. (I know, I know. You'll believe it when you see it, I know. I'm right there with ya.)
Anyway, give the next chapter a chance before you curse me to hell and say 'screw this shit'. You'll probably still hate me, but maybe not as much? You'll see. JUST GIVE IT A CHANCE!
Also, I love you all and thank you for being so patient. More thanks to everyone who reviewed. I was hoping this would be up much, MUCH sooner, but...Well, I'm glad to finally be back. :)