The sun burned brightly in the vast, empty sky. Carol walked into the courtyard basking in the sunlight. The air was warm and comforting. She breathed in, and sighed contently. It was turning into a beautiful day.
Everything was relatively quiet in the Kingdom. She could see a few people strolling about, but activity was low. It was probably for the best. Carol still preferred to be alone these days, but she was getting better. She was starting to make some friends. She was starting to learn their names, at least.
Time moved slowly here, it seemed. It was an odd thing, but she could feel her soul refresh with each passing day, and her nightmares had all but faded into the shadows. This new sense of peace was a strange feeling. She still did not know if she deserved it. She closed her eyes and lifted her face towards the sun. Her scars were far from healed, and her heart was stubborn, but she was trying. She smiled wistfully at the memory of an old conversation she once had with someone. She could still hear his voice, rough and gravelly as he desperately tried to reach to her.
"We ain't dead. And whatever happened, happened. Let's start over."
"I want to," she had told him.
"Well, you can."
Carol chuckled to herself, wiping the wetness from her eyes. She hadn't believed him, then. She didn't think it was possible. But something had changed within her lately. Something she could not explain. What Daryl had tried to tell her all those months ago seemed to have finally clicked with her now. Maybe he had been right all along.
Carol stretched her legs, getting used to being back on her feet again. She enjoyed strolling the grounds when she could. She was circling around the back of the school when she suddenly came to a stop.
There was a man creeping along the side of the wall, groping the panels with his hands. He would frequently look back to see if anyone was watching, and it was then that Carol got a better look at him. Something about him seemed awfully familiar. She had seen this man somewhere before. And then it hit her. She remembered his sandy blonde hair and lanky figure from the corridor. It was the same drunken man she had bumped into that night at the feast, nearly a month ago. Carol hid behind a tree, watching him carefully. The man continued to feel around the wall, searching for something, and suddenly, he paused. His hand rested over one crooked plank of wood and he pushed it, revealing a small space for him to crawl through. The man looked back again, nervously, and then he slipped out, closing the plank of wood behind him.
Before Carol realized what she was doing, she was following after him, heading towards the gate. The man had frightened her that night in the hallway. The words he said came back to her then, and she could still remember the cold, anxious feeling he had given her after he stumbled back into the darkness. He was definitely up to something, that much was certain, and she was compelled to find out what. She found the same panel the man had touched and pushed it to the side. She peered out. There was nothing to see but the surrounding woods. Her brass knuckle knife was the only protection she had on her, but it would have to do. There was no time to go back for anything else. Hoping she was making the right decision, Carol took a deep breath, and crawled out from the gate.
Stealth was the key if she wanted to remain unnoticed. She avoided as many twigs and leaves as she possibly could, but the man didn't bother to keep himself quiet. He jogged through the woods in a frenzied pace, and it was then that he halted dead in his tracks. Carol leapt behind a tree as the man whirled around, whipping out a dagger. He stood frozen in place, his eyes scanning the woods. After a pause, he sighed, and headed out once more. Carol followed.
They went deeper and deeper into the woods. She didn't know how much further he was going to go, but she could see up ahead a small clearing through the trees. The man stumbled out and Carol realized they had reached a long stretch of road. That was when another man appeared out of nowhere.
Carol ducked down into a bush, hiding herself behind the leaves. The blonde man reared up, his dagger flying high into the air, as the other man waved him down. "Whoa, whoa!" Carol heard him say. "Easy Trev, it's just me!"
The man exhaled heavily, dropping his knife. He wiped a shaking hand over his brow. "Jesus Christ, man," he panted. "I thought you were one of the dead ones."
Carol could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Something was definitely wrong. A growing sense of dread was taking hold of her, but why? Why did she feel this way? She looked at the other man closely. The side of his face was horribly disfigured, as if it had been burned, and his stringy, dirty blonde hair was slicked back on his head. He was carrying something. Carol moved her head to the left, just a fraction of an inch, and what she saw turned her blood into ice.
Years on the road with the people you love, you tend to recognize the weapons they carry on their backs.
And for Carol, this weapon especially.
He had Daryl's crossbow. But... how? Daryl got it back. So what was this man doing with it now? Her mind raced, trying to make sense of it, trying to find a reasonable explanation. No, she was mistaken. That crossbow was just another crossbow. It wasn't Daryl's. It didn't mean anything. The man with the burnt face surveyed the woods around them, making sure they were alone, and as he did, he slightly turned so that Carol's view was straight on his back.
And that was when her world came crashing down around her.
The angel wings adorned the vest were tattered and frayed. The right wing was covered in a dark, brownish stain. Blood. Dried blood. The ground beneath her feet began to tilt. The air became trapped in her throat, and she could no longer breathe. Daryl. Something had happened to Daryl. There was no way he would ever willingly let anyone take his belongings from him, not without a fight, and not without consequences... No. No, no, no. God, no. Please, no. This wasn't real, this wasn't happening...
She was going to be sick.
The man with the burnt face was scratching his chin. "Did anyone see you leave?" he asked.
"No way, man, I was discreet." The lanky man peered up and down the road. "Where are the others?"
"They're coming. I hope you have something useful for us this time, Trevor. We're getting tired of you reporting back with nothing but animal bullshit."
"The dude has a fucking tiger, Dwight!" hissed the man. "That to me is important shit to know!"
"So what do you got?" The man named Dwight raised the crossbow to his shoulder. "I don't want to wait around for the others, just tell it to me here."
The other man, Trevor, let out a breathy laugh."Well, as it turns out, dear King Ezekiel is up to something. Boiler room's not too private anymore, not when you're constantly sneaking down there with your patrol guards for secret little meetings. The dude is so predictable. I swiped the master keys weeks back and hid inside there waiting to catch something juicy like this. And it was worth the wait. Ezekiel is planning to go against Negan."
"What?" The burnt faced man looked suddenly tense. He took a step forward, his eyes blazing. "What do you mean by that? Are you talking about an attack? Are you sure of this?"
"Ezekiel is ordering an increase in all weapons production," said Trevor. "You know, spikes and spears and that kind of thing. But he's also sending run teams out to find more guns and ammo. They don't have much, but it's piling up. Now why would he need so many weapons? It's rather suspicious, if you ask me. Not only that, he's been in contact with someone at the Hilltop, and they ain't talking trade negotiations either. Whatever is going on, it's very hush hush. They are constantly going back and forth."
Dwight grabbed Trevor's shirt, pulling him in. "Did you hear him mention Negan or the Saviors at all during this? How do you know for sure he's planning something?"
The man shoved him off. "How's this for proof, you pushy bastard! Ezekiel got a little passionate in his talk in the boiler room the other day. I heard him say 'that tyrants end is close at hand.' Now who the fuck do you think he was talking about, huh? I'm telling you, this is big! The boss man will definitely want to know about this!"
Dwight seemed to stare off into space. His eyes were looking down, darting back and forth, and after a moment, he nodded his head. His hand came up to rest on Trevor's shoulder. "You're right," he said. "This is serious shit. And it's exactly the kind of information I need."
Trevor never saw it coming. Carol stifled a gasp. In a flash of steel, Dwight wrenched out a knife and plunged it deep into Trevor's stomach. Trevor grunted, his eyes going wide with shock. Dwight pushed it in deeper, and deeper, and blood began to pour from the man's mouth. His eyes rolled up into his head and he fell back, hitting the pavement with a sickening thud. Carol sat hunched in the bushes, stunned. She watched as Dwight stood over the man. He examined him with cold, remorseless eyes. "Asshole," she heard him mutter.
Suddenly, more men began to appear on the road. There were five of them, big and mean looking, and they came upon the scene in silent confusion. They stared down at the dead man. "Dwight, what the hell?" said one man, simply. Dwight pointed to Trevor's discarded dagger. "That son of a bitch pulled a knife on me!" he said.
The men looked taken a back.
"What?"
"No shit?"
"Yeah," grunted Dwight. "Worthless traitor."
"What the fuck, man!" Another man said. "So we came all the way out here for nothing?"
"Trevor said he had new information," questioned an older man with a graying beard.
Dwight shook his head. "The Kingdom's no threat to us. That was all bullshit." Dwight kicked Trevor's corpse. "He betrayed us! This was a complete waste of time."
"Well, at least we know," shrugged a dark skinned man. "About the Kingdom, that is. Silver lining, right?"
"Always the optimist, aren't you, Marco?" Retorted the man next to him.
Trevor's eyes slowly opened, and a horrible moaning noise emitted from his mouth. He sat up only to have a crossbow bolt enter through his brain. The dead man fell back dead again.
"I'm never gonna get used to that," Marco remarked. "Seeing someone turn, you know? It freaks me out. Just ain't natural."
"That's the way the world is now," the older man consoled. "Don't be such a pussy about it."
Dwight rolled the crossbow on his back. "I'm going to patrol around a bit. Make sure this fuckup wasn't followed. All of you report back. I won't be long." Dwight headed down the road.
"Dwight, how much longer you gonna wear that vest, man? It's way too big on your scrawny ass. Makes you look like a kid!"
"Fuck you, Bill," Dwight said. The men all laughed.
"Hell, even the crossbow's taller than you, dude!"
The men continued to laugh as Dwight turned left and disappeared without a sound into the woods. The trees and underbrush were so thick Carol could not see where he went. She dared not move though, not even to breathe, as the others still loitered about, some even taking out cigarettes to smoke. Carol must have sat hunched in that position for another twenty more agonizing minutes before the men decided to turn back and return to where they came from. She waited, and waited, until the road was clear at last and the woods were silent once again.
Carol rose to her feet, slowly. A hollow numbness spread over her body. She couldn't move. She couldn't think. All she could do was stare at the dead man lying on the the road. Move. she told herself. Do something. But she stood there, frozen.
A fear like no other consumed her. It cut through her skin like a thousand tiny splinters. She was shaking, trembling, all the way down to her fingertips. A ringing sound filled her ears. If that man had Daryl's crossbow... If that man was now strutting around in his vest... then there was only one way he could have gotten it off him...
Carol clapped her hand to her mouth. She gagged on the bile in the back of her throat. Something terrible must have happened. Every scenario ran through her head. Alexandria had come under attack or the Saviors took over or a huge battle took place and now every one of her friends were dead. Rick was dead, Michonne was dead, Glenn was dead, Maggie was dead, all of them were dead. She was losing it.
No! she told herself. They would never let that happen! But the evidence was there in Dwight's hands. It was right there, slapped on his back. He's not dead, Carol convinced herself. Daryl is not dead! But there was only one way to know for sure. Only one way to know what became of her friends. Carol found her footing and turned on her heels. She only hoped it wasn't too late.
The trees whipped past her as she ran through the woods. Her mind tried to process everything that had happened. That man she had followed had been a spy. He was working for the Saviors. But Dwight had killed him. Why? What was the point of that? And why did he lie to the others? Nothing about it made any sense. The only thing she was certain of was Dwight was the man who killed Denise. He was the man who betrayed Daryl.
And was he the man who killed Daryl, too?
Don't think that! But she had to be realistic. There was a lot of blood on that vest. Anything could have happened. Any horrible, possible thing. She didn't know. She hadn't been there.
And there it was. The cold, hard truth came at last. It struck her hard like a slap to the face.
She hadn't been there. She had left them. If she had been with them, if she had stayed, could she have helped them? Could she have made a difference? She had back in Terminus. What if she could have done something? What if she could have saved them? The woods became a blur as tears welled in her eyes. If Daryl was dead... if he was gone for good, and she could have stopped it...
Oh dear God, what have I done?
It took her breath away when she suddenly ran headlong into a solid body. With a cry, Carol raised her knife, but the man knocked it from her hand with a long, wooden staff. She looked up. It was Morgan.
The man's eyes blazed with anger. "How long are you gonna keep doing this, Carol?"
"What?"
"I saw you," he said. "I watched you sneak out the wall, out from that broken plank. Is this how you want to live the rest of your life? You just gonna keep running away?"
"Morgan—"
"When are you gonna face your problems? I know you wanna live. But if you do this, if you run away again, there ain't nothing out there but death for you, I guarantee it—"
"Morgan!"
A crow cawed out in the distance. Carol and Morgan stared at each other. "I need you to listen to me," she told him. "We don't have time. We might even be too late. But we need to go back. We need to go back right now!" Carol ran past him, not bothering to wait.
"The Kingdom is this way," Morgan called after her. Carol shook her head.
"I'm not going to the Kingdom!" she yelled at him.
"Then where the hell are you going?" Morgan cried out.
Carol turned around, her eyes steadfast and burning. "Back to Alexandria!"