Alexandria's walls were tall and sturdy. Forged with steel plates and engineering ingenuity, they formed an imposing barrier, protecting the settlement from the many dangers that lurked beyond.
But not all dangers. Not when Alexandria's gates opened wide before their enemies.
The teenagers had only just stepped outside when they caught the steadily growing rumble. Mikey was the first to notice – and how unfair was that, Carl thought privately, when he was the one who'd lost half his eyesight and was still waiting to get some kind of super heightened senses out of it – and pulled them both into a sharp stop.
"Woah," said Mikey, eyes wide. "Do you hear that?"
It sounded like morning traffic from back in the day, like a busy highway at rush hour. In the distance, he thought he could hear the familiar creaking of Alexandria's gates opening. It sounded like trouble.
Carl almost smiled. All he could think of was –
Finally.
The truth was that Carl wasn't bracing for a fight. He looked forward to it.
Mikey exhaled slowly, as if to savor the last moments of peace. "Damn," he muttered, shaking his head. "It's gotta be them, right?"
They both knew the answer to that. Alexandria didn't have this many vehicles. The Saviors came, and they brought an army.
"Let's find out," Carl said, already on the move.
It wasn't long before the convoy descended on Alexandria. Saviors leaned halfway out of passenger windows, brandishing their rifles in a show of power. Carl watched the chaos unfold, his stomach churning at the knowledge that this had been going on for months in his absence.
Mikey glared after the passing vehicles. "Do you think they're all born cartoonishly evil, or is that just something they pick up along the way?"
Before Carl could respond, one particular asshole biker revved his engine and charged at them, forcing the teenagers to jump out of harm's way. Hearts pounding, Carl and Mikey watched the biker careen around the next corner, his body hanging nearly parallel to the asphalt, acting like their home was his own personal racetrack. They could hear his laughter over the roar of his engine.
Mikey picked up Carl's hat and handed it back to him. "Definitely born this way."
As they neared the assumed meeting point, they took a shortcut between two houses and almost collided with Barbara, who was carrying Judith. Barbara's face was almost as red as her hair, and her eyes widened in fright. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized it was only them.
"Michonne asked me to take her," Barbara explained in a hushed voice, cradling Judith to her chest.
Truth be told, he barely knew Barbara. The extent of their relationship was him helping dig graves for her husband and children. Barbara had thanked him afterwards, he remembered.
"Yeah, go," Carl said. It was a relief knowing Judith was out of harm's way. He wondered where the hell Oliver was, although he wasn't especially worried. The kid knew how to make himself scarce.
The street outside the storeroom was packed with vehicles and people. The biker who almost mowed them down gave Carl and Mikey a mocking salute as they passed. The people of Alexandria gathered on sidewalks and porches, watching the Saviors crowd their street as though they owned it. Most of the townsfolk seemed resigned, although Mikey's dad had a look on his face like he'd eaten something sour.
"Go," Mikey told him with a sigh, edging toward his dad. "I'll catch up later."
The Saviors didn't seem to be in any hurry to get started. To no one's surprise, Rick stepped forward to face their unwelcome visitors. He was unarmed except for the hatchet at his belt and Michonne at his side.
"Which one of you is in charge today?" Rick called out, his tone close to defiant. Meekness didn't come naturally to him.
"Stay put, Grimes-baby," one of them drawled, a slim man in a sweat-stained tank top. "The boss went to take a dump. He'll be here soon."
"Charming fellas, aren't they?" one of the town's residents murmured to Carl as he brushed past.
Not really, Carl thought ruefully, surveying the crowd. He spotted Castiel between Claire and Enid, standing with some of the onlookers. He looked terrible, which was definitely an improvement.
He made to move toward Castiel when Rick caught his eye. His father motioned for him to come over. Carl hesitated, torn between standing with his family or his injured friend. Making up his mind, he cut a path through a crowd of jeering Saviors. He thought he saw a flicker of disappointment on Rick's face, but he wasn't sure. His peripheral vision was awful.
"Hey," said Carl, out of breath for no apparent reason. "You guys okay?"
Enid offered a weak smile, but Claire's glare was scorching. "About time you showed up," she hissed.
Claire had a white-knuckled grip on Castiel's arm, ready to drag the angel into the nearest hiding hole if only he allowed it. Despite Castiel's sorry condition, Carl knew she would've had an easier time squaring off with a skyscraper. Meanwhile, Castiel was watching the Saviors intently, a look of deep concentration on his bruised face.
"Couldn't get him out of here, huh?" Carl murmured to her. He was highly conscious of the fact that they weren't alone.
Claire huffed. "It's like arguing with a toddler."
Castiel briefly pulled his gaze away from the Saviors to squint down at Claire in disapproval.
"They're all just standing around," Enid pointed out, eyebrows knitted. She had both hands wrapped around one of Castiel's, flanking his side. "I don't see any Hunters with them, do you?"
A sense of unease crept over Carl as he scanned for familiar faces. None of them were, and he didn't notice any Hunters, either. At least, none that he might have recognized from their last encounter. Would the Hunters join up with the Saviors? That certainly fell under a 'worst-case' type scenario.
No, Carl decided, these Saviors weren't here for Castiel. They wouldn't look this comfortable, lighting their cigarettes and chatting among themselves, completely at ease despite all the hostile stares. No one was fingering any triggers. If they were truly here to square off with an angel, they would at least have the courtesy to look nervous about it.
Even so, there was something off with these people, that much he could tell. They didn't look like they were gearing up for a fight – more like they'd just gotten out of one. At least half of them were visibly injured.
Under all the guns and the bluster and the threat of impending violence, the Saviors looked exhausted. Rick saw it too, Carl could tell.
"Hunters?" Father Gabriel inquired curiously, overhearing them.
Carl shifted on his feet. "Just some group we crossed with; the Saviors caught up to them," he explained without actually revealing anything.
"Ah." Gabriel nodded. It didn't escape Carl's attention that while everybody was watching the Saviors, the priest seemed to be studying them instead.
Carl's mouth pursed, hyper-aware of every pair of eyes and ears in their radius. Other residents were moving closer, seeking the safety of a crowd. This made things… complicated. Not only were Carl and his friends hiding certain facts from Castiel (for his own good, supposedly), but they were also concealing certain other facts from the rest of Alexandria (definitely for their own good). The double subterfuge was, frankly, exhausting.
"Enid!" Castiel snapped out unexpectedly, his voice a ragged mess, "Will you please stop praying? It is incredibly distracting."
The girl smiled innocently and squeezed Castiel's hand. "Oh, I was loud? Sorry, Cas – next time I'll whisper."
Gabriel, thankful, misread the situation. "Don't be afraid, this will all be over soon. Rick knows what he's doing." He smiled warmly. "The Lord has gifted us with a generous bounty today, such as we can spare."
"What about tomorrow?" Castiel asked.
"I'm sorry?"
"When you've exhausted your resources, what will you do then?"
Gabriel's smile wavered, but only for a moment. "What we must."
It seemed like the wrong thing to say. Castiel's expression turned dark. He took a step forward, as if to confront the Saviors. And yet despite the girls pulling at his arms, it was Gabriel who halted him.
"We must all thread carefully," Gabriel stated firmly, steel in his voice. "'A prudent man foreseeth the evil, and hideth himself. But the simple pass on, and are punished'."
Head tilted, Castiel stared at the priest.
Gabriel continued, "As a community, we are duty-bound to one another, and we are each other's keepers. No matter which action you choose, the consequences will be shared, not shouldered alone." His hand reached underneath his jacket, flashing a red knife handle. It was as much of a warming as it was a threat. "You don't strike me as a foolish man, Castiel. I'd hate to be proven wrong."
The teenagers collectively braced themselves, ready to intervene. But, miraculously, Castiel seemed to heed the priest's warning. "I understand," he rasped, nodding.
The tension in Gabriel's shoulders eased. He smiled thinly. "Thank you."
Someday, Carl thought, the priest was going to have a meltdown when he realizes that he'd just threatened to shiv an Angel of the Lord.
At least Claire seemed happy. Castiel continued observing the Saviors.
And Carl… felt a touch of disappointment. Yes, he knew that Castiel was injured, and it wasn't fair to ask him to fight their battles for them. At the same time, the Saviors' presence here… it was humiliating.
"I did not miss this shitshow one bit," somebody whispered behind them, to a murmur of agreement from the other town residents.
"We always knew they'd be back," came another voice. Carl turned to see Raquel, a woman who'd been in Alexandria since the outbreak, her knowing gaze fixed on the scene.
"Are there usually so many of them?" Carl wondered aloud.
Raquel hummed, her keen eyes scanning the packed street. "It's hard to say what's usual these days," she replied, her response more of an observation than a direct answer.
A sudden jab to the ribs caught Carl off guard. He shot Enid a look, silently questioning her with a look: 'What was that for?'
"Tell you later," Enid murmured close to Carl's ear.
"Rick, hello, hello!" called an unfamiliar man, coming down the street in an easy jog. He wore a jovial grin, carrying himself with the swagger of a leader.
"Is this the one they call Negan?" Castiel asked, eyeing the newcomer with a heavy frown.
"Negan doesn't come around for tributes, hon," said Raquel, leaning a breath closer. She had a disconcerting talent for speaking while barely moving her mouth. "That one over there–" she indicated with her gaze– "is Simon. I almost didn't recognize him without the mustache."
Carl frowned. He'd heard the name Simon before. Wasn't he Negan's second-in-command, the one who'd disappeared? It seemed he had found his way back to the hornet's nest after all.
Raquel then added with a sigh, a touch wistful, "I hate to say it, but these things go a lot smoother when Dwight is in charge."
"Dwight's dead," Carl said coldly, recalling the scarred man who'd stolen Daryl's crossbow, the one whose head Jake had bashed in.
"Shame." Raquel clicked her tongue. "At least he didn't like to play with his food."
Castiel turned to her, puzzled. "How is that relevant?"
"It's a metaphor, dumb-dumb," Claire sighed.
She was calmer now that they knew the Savior hadn't come for the still recovering Castiel with angel-killing guns ablazing. The question remained, however – what had happened to all the Hunters they'd captured?
The Saviors parted to let Simon through. The man planted his feet in front of Rick and Michonne, greeting the two of them with a beaming grin, like a shark zeroing in for the kill. "And so, we meet again!" Simon declared with gusto.
Rick didn't return the man's smile, but inclined his head in greeting. "You're late."
The smile flickered off of Simon's face, like a lightswitch turned off. He heaved a deep sigh. "Listen, Rick, I want to make something abundantly clear: I take full responsibility for our recent… shortcomings. Yeah, yeah, don't look so surprised – I mean that. Sincerely."
He turned to address the crowd, Saviors and Alexandrians alike. "Listen up, people! This here partnership of ours, it's a contract written in blood. You folks handle your end, we have ours. That means arriving on schedule, and I'm ashamed to say it's where my boys and I, well, we've been slacking. That's simply unacceptable."
He let his words sink in before abruptly clapping his hands, his mouth stretching in a wide, disconcerting grin. "Moving forward, fresh slate. Whichever one of us breaks the contract, answers to me. Are we all clear?'"
He held a hand to his ear, expectantly. There was a murmur of "Yes, Simon," from Saviors and Alexandrians alike.
"Wunderbar," Simon intoned. "That's German for 'get your ass moving, people'!" he barked, making a rolling gesture with his hand.
Chaos swept over Alexandria. The Saviors ignored the neatly stacked supplies set aside for them. Instead, they poured into the storeroom and surrounding houses, their cruel laughter piercing the air. They went seeking not to scavenge, but to destroy.
To Carl's utmost disappointment and horror, his father stood there and let it all happen. Michonne stood beside him, holding his hand tightly, but her face was a barely-contained mask of fury.
"We kept our end," she told Simon, her voice so low that Carl could only discern her words by watching the movement of her lips.
"Sorry." Simon shrugged, his smile thin and almost apologetic. "The guys needed to let out some steam. But don't worry, they're under strict instructions: property damage only."
"I see," Michonne said icily.
"Anybody giving you trouble lately?" Rick wondered aloud, subtly placing himself between the two. He pointed to the bridge of his nose. Indeed, there was a nasty scabbed cut across Simon's jaw along with fading discoloration underneath his eyes.
"You should see the other guy," Simon returned jokingly, although it was clear Rick had struck a nerve.
"Mmm." Rick nodded, lightly scratching at his short beard. "Is this why your men are terrorizing my people?" he cast a sidelong glance at the ravaging Saviors, no doubt tallying every soiled bandage and telltale limp. The Saviors had taken a beating recently, that much was clear.
Simon let out a chuckle. "What, this?" He spread his arms out.
Behind him, his men callously lined up vases stolen from the Millers' home for an improvised game of bowling. The widower Mr. Miller watched from the sidewalk, his expression frozen in grief. Several townsfolk attempted to pull the old man away, but to no avail.
Hand held out, Rick attempted to reason with the man, "Negan said we'll be fine as long as we follow your rules. And we have. All these people, they worked hard for you. They don't deserve this."
Simon rolled his eyes and heaved a loud sigh. "Rick, Rick, Lighten up, will you?" He leaned in, meeting Rick's gaze from an uncomfortably close distance. "It's just a bit of o' fashioned tomfoolery. 'Boys being boys' and all of that, except these days I'm all about inclusivity, and you know, some of my best men are ladies. Like I said – property damage only. It's just stuff. Stuff can be replaced. So ease up! The kids gotta let loose sometimes, break stuff, have fun! You should try it."
Leaning back with a smirk, he added, "Speaking of kids – I heard our guys found yours." He made a show of looking around, searchingly, until his snakelike gaze landed on Carl.
"Playing with his food," Raquel whispered behind Carl, which seemed to mean 'be careful'.
Carl met Simon's gaze with a glare.
That only seemed to amuse him. "Well, I'll be damned," he chuckled and knocked his shoulder into Michonne's. "He's got your scowl, darling."
A moment later, the Savior was standing in front of Carl, his long legs covering the short distance in a blink. From up close, his smirk was nothing short of predatory. "You must be Carl."
Carl stared back at him dismissively. "Okay."
The chuckle that left Simon's mouth wasn't especially friendly. He flicked Carl's hat and said, "I see why the boss likes you."
He then looked back to where Rick and Michonne were practically hovering over his shoulder. "You know, Rick, I've never had kids of my own—at least, none that I know of," he said, his tone cold and mocking. "Can't imagine what it's been like for you, trying to raise a couple of whippersnappers in all of this. Seems to me, you've got a lot to lose."
"Simon–" Rick began.
But Simon decided to ignore him. Instead, he turned back to Carl. "Young man, what's it feel like to be a burden?"
He raised his hand to flick Carl's hat again, but then Castiel spoke up, "Don't do that."
"Or what, buddy?" Simon gave a little snicker as he looked Castiel over, completely oblivious to the danger staring him in the face. "You'll bleed on me?"
"I don't think that's necessary," Father Gabriel interjected, holding out his hands in a calming gesture. "None of us want any violence today."
His words rang hollow as the Saviors continued to wreck the settlement all around them, reigning chaos just for the hell of it. A window shattered nearby. Carl had never missed his gun more.
"No, we don't," said Simon with a chuckle, glancing back at Rick pointedly. Then he turned his attention to the priest. "Believe it or not, I'm actually here to see you, Father."
"Me?" Gabriel asked, surprised.
"It's Gary, right?" Simon asked, pointing at the priest.
"Gabriel."
Simon sucked a breath through his teeth. "Close enough." He leaned in, looking Gabriel up and down. "Are you the real deal? I mean this whole getup, it's not some kind of fetish thing, is it?"
Gabriel smiled thinly. "Not to me."
Eyes narrowed, Simon stared into the priest's eyes, as if trying to call Gabriel's bluff. Gabriel's throat moved, but he looked back coolly, meeting the Savior's gaze steadily. It was remarkable how far the man had come, he who had once curled up in fear at the first sign of violence.
Finally, Simon gave a little shrug. "That works. The boss oughta be happy."
Surprise flashed across Gabriel's face. He cleared his throat. "My church is always open to anyone seeking spiritual guidance."
Simon smirked and clapped Gabriel's shoulder. "Much appreciated, Father."
It was an odd exchange. Somehow, Carl doubted that Negan was looking for spiritual advice. Was this another one of Simon's games? If so, where was he going with this?
Smiling brightly, Simon announced, "Now, how about we get this show started?" He rubbed his hands together. "Where do you good folks keep your shovels?"
"Shovels?" Gabriel asked faintly.
Eyes flashing dangerously, Simon brought his fingers to his lips and whistled. Instantly, the Saviors ceased their attempts to destroy Alexandria. One by one, they gathered behind Simon, awaiting his command. A heavy silence filled the air.
"Shovels," Simon repeated. He was no longer smiling.
Gabriel looked to Rick for guidance.
This was another one of Simon's games, no doubt. Rick surveyed their audience, these Saviors who had just moments before torn through their belongings for no apparent reason, who stared back at him hard, every one of them armed and ready. "We keep a few in the shed," Rick offered finally, his voice dry, "near the cemetery."
"Let's take a walk," Simon announced with a face-splitting grin.