Chapter 5
Lucy barely got two winks of sleep before she was wide-awake, staring at the ceiling. What a shitshow. First, the kids go off on their own to rescue a leather-clad biker gang under fire from another leather-clad biker gang. Then, they bring their rescuees to the base for medical attention, going against all the training that Lucy tried to instill in them. No matter how hard she tried, their goodness burned brighter than their fear.
It had been no easy task to keep this place a secret, up here in the middle of nowhere. She'd scoured the roads, prying down any signs that led to the caverns. No signs, no signals on how to access the caverns through the twisting dirt roads. Now, the goddamn Witch caught one of the girls, accidental or on purpose, it didn't matter. What was the Witch doing all the way out here anyways? She usually sent her little empty-eyed lackeys.
And the Saviors, as they called themselves. Another problem, though she didn't quite know the severity. It took all her energy mustered with every last reserve of bossiness to push that Negan guy out of the room, he was obviously dying to know more.
They were truly, and royally fucked. They'd been in jams before, some more dire than their situation now. This time though, it felt like planets colliding. A slow start, with an inevitably tragic end.
Shit. She winced as an elbow caught her ribcage. Her room, usually blissfully empty, had every spare surface covered in sleeping bags. Most of the little ones were too scared to sleep with the other kids after Kira's little incident, so one-by-one, they'd invaded her room like ants to a picnic. The queen bed was full of little hands and feet that pressed into her ribs, her back, or tangled into her hair so tightly her eyes watered.
Trying to leave the room in stealth to get fresh air was akin to tiptoeing through a field full of land-mines. But she'd have to try.
She'd nearly made it to the door after untangling herself from the arms and hands and legs and feet, then carefully stepping in between the sleeping forms. Careful. Quiet-
"Where are you going?" a little voice whispered. Damn. Lucy couldn't place the voice, thick with sleep.
"I gotta pee. I'll be right back, honey."
"What's going on?" Another voice asked. Lucy closed her eyes. So close.
After taking five kids on a potty break and getting them back to the right sleeping bag (which was a challenge in itself), she finally closed her bedroom door with whispered promises that she'd be back soon. And don't wake up the other kids. The mumbled replies were not as agreeable as she'd hoped.
She threw on her thick boots and a heavy flannel jacket. She crept into her office and pulled open an innocuous drawer, feeling for her secret stash. Foil crinkled and she let out a sigh. She stepped out of the main building and nodded to Ethan on duty.
"Just going to check and make sure our guests are where they're supposed to be," she said, before ducking into the darkness.
It wasn't a lie, but it certainly wasn't the truth. She crept to the garage on the far side so her story looked straight, but stayed a good distance away. Hopefully the visitors were fast asleep, but if not, she didn't want to invite any questions. Instead she ducked behind a tiny shed, out of sight of the guards she trained so well, and pulled out a cigarette. Fumbling for a lighter, she swore when she couldn't find it.
"Need a light?" A voice cut through the darkness. An orangish glow and a shadow in the moonlight.
"Jesus!" Lucy whispered. "You scared the shit out of me."
The shadow grew closer, and she felt plastic fumbled into her hand. A lighter.
She lit her cigarette and inhaled, letting the nicotine and a hundred other toxins numb her senses a little. The effect was instant and soothing. Lucy eyed the shadow.
"You're the quiet one. Sorry, I don't remember your name," she said in a low voice.
"Daryl."
"Thanks, Daryl."
He grunted in response. They smoked in silence for a minute. The air was cold and biting. An owl hooted somewhere, and branches rustled softly. It felt almost normal somehow, as if they were just two smokers waiting for the bus to arrive.
"I don't smoke a lot," she finally said. "Maybe once a month or so. I don't ask the kids to get them for me, but sometimes they find them. They're useful for trading, though we don't get much of that."
"Mmm," was the only response for a moment. "So you got a shitload of smokes somewhere?"
Lucy chuckled softly. "I guess you could say that. I was debating sending some off with you all in the morning. I sure as hell can't smoke 'em all. I know the older kids go in every once in awhile and sneak a pack, little bastards. The less we have of these, the better."
"Mmm."
They fell into the natural casual chat of smokers, an unspoken bond of honesty that comes from a shared addiction. Although conversation with Daryl was a bit akin to wresting with a porcupine. Prickly, awkward, and sometimes difficult.
"You don't seem to be a part of the others," Lucy said. She could barely read his features in the low light. Speaking to a shadow.
"I ain't."
"Oh."
He sighed. Foil crinkled as he rummaged for another cigarette. "Can't sleep?"
"No, too many kids in my room. They got spooked." Lucy took another drag, inhaled deeply, and let out a big exhale of smoke that made her light-headed.
"Mmm. From that Witch shit?"
Lucy froze for a moment. Could he be trusted? Could any of them? But in the end, she didn't know if it really mattered if they found out. She was so tired of being alone. "Yeah. The Witch shit."
Daryl snorted but turned it into a quiet cough. "Is it a real witch? Like, spells n' shit?"
Lucy felt around for the stump she usually sat on in her nighttime escapade, but it was too damp to sit on without soaking through her jeans. "Don't know… probably. She certainly acts the part."
Daryl grunted, and didn't prod further. Lucy liked that. The moon was bright, but the thick trees impeded much of the light. They smoked in silence for another moment.
"Are those guys you aren't a part of good or bad?" Lucy asked.
Daryl shrugged. She didn't see it, but heard his clothes rustle. "Usually swings on the bad side for most people, including me." His face glowed eerily from the glow of his cigarette. "But you're safe, I think."
"You- or they, I guess, won't mess with us?"
"Nah. Negan don't hurt women or kids. He doesn't like not knowing shit, though. Probably won't drop it until you tell him more."
"Oh." Lucy's cigarette was only a stump now. She dragged it across the side of the building and dropped the stub into an empty can she hid just for this purpose. Daryl fumbled around for a moment and gave her one of his cigarettes.
"My lungs are going to hurt in the morning." She lit it and inhaled. "Mmm. Menthol."
"Small price to pay. Best things in life ain't free."
"Ain't that the truth."
"Mmm."
They finished up their cigarettes and bid one another a good night. She felt a little more at ease, Daryl didn't seem like much of a liar. The unspoken bond between two people sneaking away to smoke – truth and honesty always prevailed.
Lucy finally managed to steal a few hours of sleep on a worn sofa tucked in a storage room. She was still up before most of the kids, although Cupcake already had breakfast cooking. That kid could do things with Spam and eggs from their few remaining chickens that would knock the socks off any decent chef. As dawn broke, Lucy wrangled up the last stragglers still buried in their blankets and got a head count: all clear.
The kids were pretty good on their own in the morning. They were usually too sleepy to provide much trouble, and the ones that were usually grumpy were given sufficient space by the others. Routine kept things going smooth, the kids knew what to expect and when to expect it. The garage where the strangers slept was still quiet, but she'd seen the scrawny one sneak off around the garage to answer nature's call, so they'd likely be up soon.
She found Billy and Abby bickering in the main garage. The garage was restricted to most of the kids, only a handful were trusted with copies of the keys. It was huge, full of equipment for the caverns like spare lights, rods, and a few extra generators of varying sizes and ages. On one side, the garage held their precious Hail Mary, hidden under several giant canvas covers: a large schoolbus always kept ready, stocked with supplies and decked out with anti-walker defenses.
Just in case. With the amount of kids she had to look after, "just in case" was a running theme for Lucy.
"Who's transporting our new friends?" Lucy asked over the raised voices. Billy and Abby turned towards her. Abby's arms were crossed defiantly, Billy flicking irritably at his holster. One day, these two would either murder or marry one another. Lucy's guess on which it would be varied from day to day.
"Billy thinks he is, but I'm trying to get it through his thick skull that he's needed here. Just in case the Witch comes back."
Just in case.
Lucy turned to Billy. "And what's your counter-argument?"
Billy adjusted his hat. "She may come, but she might not. Those assholes-" he flipped his thumb in a vague direction towards the newcomers, "-are already here, and the sooner they git, the better."
"Language."
"Sorry ma'am."
They looked expectantly towards Lucy for the final decision. She looked around the garage, assessing their functional and non-functional vehicles. Stark was already working on one of the cars they'd salvaged from the gunfight yesterday, and there were still some vehicles left to inspect and haul back.
"Let's make it a useful trip. Billy goes with you, Abby-"
Abby scoffed, but clamped her mouth shut when Lucy held up her hand.
"Billy goes with you. Take the van and that piece of crap hatchback. The newcomers can figure out how to cram themselves in there."
"What about the injured one?"
Lucy shrugged. "He was shot in the shoulder, he can sit up for a car ride. I don't want to waste any more resources fixing that hatchback up when we've got plenty of other more useful cars."
"Yes ma'am," Billy mumbled. Though he was as sour as a mouthful of vinegar, he still had the politeness of a southern gentleman with the few people he respected.
Lucy smiled and put a hand on Abby's shoulder. The girl's scowl pulled into a tight smile, but Lucy wasn't fooled. "On the way back, drop Billy and Stark off at that bar. Take a few helping hands, see if there's anything else left. Stark said there were a few of the motorcycles that wouldn't run but he could fix 'em back here."
Billy eyed Lucy through squinted eyes. "I thought we weren't allowed to have motorcycles here." Something he'd been dying for and constantly denied.
"Well, that was when you all were piddly little things with short little legs. Might be useful to have a bike for scavenging for the older kids. IF, and only if, they prove they can drive safely. I don't want them here, too noisy. But we can scatter them around a safe distance, keep 'em hidden."
"Do we tell the Witch?" Abby asked quietly. She was chewing on her lip nervously, and didn't make eye contact. If anyone deserved to be nervous about the Witch, it was Abby. God, it took weeks to get her talking again, after that cold winter night…
Lucy shook her head. "If we don't bring them here, she and her followers likely won't see. They don't go that far down the mountain, anyways. Stark will have to use the bar there, fix up the bikes behind closed doors. Then, we ride them out at night, carefully, no lights."
Billy nodded in agreement. "I'll talk to Fletch about it. He'll have some good spots somewhere in all those maps to put the bikes. Maybe near some of the emergency caches, but not too close."
Lucy looked between the two of them. A swell of emotion rose, but she pushed it down. When did they get so big? It wasn't that long ago she was pulling splinters out of Billy's hands, wiping Abby's nose for her when she was sick. Would they still need her when they were all grown up?
They were staring at her curiously until she snapped back to the present. Lucy cleared her throat. "Alright. I'll have the newcomers wait by the gate. Don't forget headcovers for 'em."
"Pshh," Abby said. "What are we, dumb? Shut up, Billy, don't even say it. Anyways, I already got them ready. The headcovers."
Lucy smiled at them both, then turned to leave the garage. Instead of the usual bickering, the two teenagers now had their heads close together, whispering conspiratorially about getting the motorcycles transported.
Yes, it wouldn't be too long before they wouldn't need her anymore. But would they make it that long? She couldn't help but wonder, with a pang of fear and nausea.
/ / / /
The roads seemed bumpier than before, Negan thought as they careened down the mountain roads, blinded and jostling into one another. After a brief, unemotional goodbye, Negan and the Saviors were dismissed with five cartons of smokes, a few bottles of rum, a duffle bag full of miscellaneous supplies, and a stern warning to stay the hell away.
Like fuck I will, Negan thought, but he nodded and said some smart-alecky comment that he couldn't quite remember now. As they waited by Littlechapel's front gates for their ride, he noticed some of the kids unloading a truck bed. They glared at him, but said nothing. It was only empty crates and boxes they tossed out of the truck.
Where did the contents go? Negan wondered.
There was something about this place he couldn't drop. This many kids alive and functioning, almost embarrassingly better than most other settlements, was a miracle in itself. But there was something about the woods that surrounded them. Whispers that trailed around the trees, soft footsteps that weren't quite animal, weren't quite human. Noises that seemed to drift halfway between animal and human.
Negan was shaken from his thoughts when they hit a pothole and Simon swore quietly. They were told to be quiet, and the click of a safety reassured the instruction would be followed. Negan rolled his eyes, though only he knew it underneath his hood. Simon had limped out of his recovery room- limped, mind you, for a goddamn shoulder injury. Holding it and making little references to bravery and courage under fire. Negan wondered if these kids would mind if he bashed Simon's head in with a seatbelt buckle. Maybe strangulation – watch the light go out slowly behind his eyes. But no- he'd need Simon at some point in the future. Instead he kept his murderous fantasies in his head, for now.
And speaking of walkers- they hadn't seen a trace of them at Littlechapel. It made sense, being this was in the middle of nowhere, even pre-Collapse. Was there finally a place not threatened by the undead? The mountains were slow to navigate and some of the steep grades were difficult terrain for walkers. In winter, it snowed clear up there. Maybe…
The Kid and his companion, the ginger nerdy kid, murmured to one another. Negan strained to listen, but got nothing important. How old were they when they were taught to drive, and was it Lucy who taught them? Did they need help to reach the pedals?
Negan shifted a little to get circulation back into his cuffed hands. He had to take a piss- they'd be driving for nearly an hour now through winding roads. It was stuffy and crowded, the air was growing heavy and humid. And now Kevin was burping a little, making little uncomfortable moans. If he threw up, Negan would-
The brakes squealed to a halt, and the Saviors slammed into the seats in front of them. Simon swore loudly. A door opened and they were yanked out of the van, small hands yet surprisingly strong hands tugging them this way and that.
"Stand here for a minute," the Kid said. "Don't say shit or I'll take out your kneecaps."
Negan liked this kid. Reminded him a little of Rick's boy, but raised by wolves. Tough as nails.
Metal springs popped, and their cuffs were removed one by one. The hoods remained untouched. Then, the Kid spoke.
"Car keys are further down the road. You can take the hoods off when you don't hear the car engine. Anyone takes it off early, I'll pop you good."
Then, an engine turned and wheels crunched on asphalt. Negan waited a minute, he could still hear the engine but doubted the Kid was serious, before he pulled off his hood.
"Shit, it's bright," he said, holding his hand up to block the sudden glare of daylight. The rest of the Saviors pulled theirs off, Simon making a little noise as he lifted his arm. The fresh air was freeing.
They were in the middle of a road in some small no-name hick town. Negan turned around a few times, but didn't recognize where exactly they were. Off the distance, the mountains loomed. They must've been driven fifty, sixty miles away. A few walkers were shambling over, attracted by the noise. Too far to present much of a threat, but a reminder that the Saviors ought to hustle. Near them, a little piece-of-shit hatchback waited expectantly, doors wide open.
Daryl wandered a few feet away and picked up jingling keys glistening in the sun.
"Shit," Kevin exhaled. "That was an experience."
Negan grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the car. Kevin yelped, grasping at Negan's large fingers pressing down on his esophagus. The others froze and glanced around at one another, unsure of what to do.
"And none of us is going to say shit about this, got it?" Negan turned to the others, waiting for a nod of agreement from each of them. "We had bad luck on supplies, overrun and trapped until a herd passed. If I hear anyone breathe a word about that settlement, I'll string you up on the front gate by your balls, and let walkers tear you the fuck up."
He released Kevin, who immediately slid down to the ground, gasping for air. "Jesus…what's the big…deal?" He coughed and spat up a wad of phlegm.
Daryl spoke, which shocked them all. "A settlement full of kids? There's a reason they keep to themselves. It ain't friendly out here for kids. Word gets out, might get to the wrong people."
Negan nodded in agreement. "Fuckin' Daryl speaks the goddamn truth. They've done a good job so far staying secret, let's not fuck it up for them. Not yet, anyways."
A walker growled nearby. Snake went to shut the trunk of the car, then cried out in surprise. He pulled out Lucille and a handful of guns with ammo.
"There's some supplies back here too. The cigarettes, booze, but also some diapers, kid's books and toys."
Negan snatched Lucille and inspected her carefully. She was pristine, thank fuck. He took the keys from Daryl and crawled into the cramped car. Simon took the passenger seat and the others crammed in the back. Soon, they were off in the general direction of home: Sanctuary.
Kevin gazed out of the window thoughtfully. "That really was somethin'. Outfoxed by a buncha kids."
"Sure was, Kev," Negan said, staring into the road that lay ahead. "It sure was."
/ / / / /