Chapter 3: Copacabana
Alexandria, with its easy access to scalding hot showers, air conditioned rooms, and charming granite countertops, occasionally made it possible to forget that they were living in a post-apocalyptic hellworld. In Alexandria, teenagers were once again free to barricade themselves with their friends inside their bedrooms and play loud music until their neighbors called their parents to complain.
/her name was Lola, she was a showgirl/
/with yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there/
Their playlist could use a bit of work, thought Enid. She couldn't help but snicker at Claire's look of despair. Mikey shot them both a glare. He stood beside the record player with his arms crossed, scowling to the beat of /she would merengue and do the cha-cha/.
Enid didn't mean to seem ungrateful, really. It was just that, well, when Mikey had offered to bring his record player to their little hangout in Carl's bedroom, she'd expected a little less cha-cha.
"Why," Claire moaned, sinking deeper into Carl's blue bean bag lounger. Enid envied her a little – she looked ridiculously comfortable.
"It was either this," Mikey bit out, "or Billy Ray Cyrus."
"Were those the only two options?" Claire choked in horror.
"Yes!" Mikey threw up his arms. "Since those assholes stole my records! How is that my fault? I wasn't even here for it."
At the mention of the Saviors, Enid's smile faded. Upon their return to Alexandria, they'd discovered a town plundered of its simple joys. On top of the weekly tributes, the Saviors went to great lengths to disrupt the townspeople's lives. Immolating beds, smashing their electronics, pilfering books and magazines. For no aim but to humiliate them, it seemed.
Enid had wondered why Mikey's ancient record player had escaped the Saviors' petty cruelty. Now she knew. Fine, whatever. Barry Manilow wasn't her usual cup of tea, but honestly – he was kind of growing on her.
Planting a smile on her face, Enid bobbed her head to the cheerful beat. "Don't mind Claire. She thinks every song needs to open and close on a seven-minute guitar riff."
Claire rolled her eyes. "I never said that."
Still smiling, Enid found herself a seat on top of the dresser by the windows. It seemed sturdy enough. On a normal day, they might have hung out on Carl's bed, but it was gone. Well, the mattress was anyway.
Apparently, the Saviors didn't allow anyone to go out and get new beds. Instead, the town got creative. These past few nights saw Enid sleeping on a giant pineapple-shaped pool float. She had no idea where Olivia had even found the thing. It kept deflating throughout the night. Enid wondered if Carl might be interested in a trade-off. After all, he kept complaining about his dumb bean bag.
"We can talk now, right?" Mikey asked. He pointed at the record player. "Are you sure this is even necessary?"
Enid shrugged. "Cas has really good hearing," she reminded him. "Actually, could you turn the volume up a bit?"
He shook his head. "Not really. I mean, it's an old player. It doesn't get much louder than this."
Enid and Mikey looked at Claire for confirmation.
Claire shifted in her sunken seat. "I guess it's fine."
"You don't know?" Mikey frowned. "Didn't he, like, possess you once?"
Claire gave him an incredulous look. "Yeah, once. For five minutes. When I was, like, twelve. Give me a break."
"Hey, this was your idea," Mikey pointed out. "I was fine passing notes, you know."
Enid grimaced. Even since Castiel had woken up in Alexandria's infirmary, she and her friends had been communicating with each other in writing, mindful of the angel's excellent hearing. It reminded Enid of their time in Heaven, passing notes to avoid the attention of their jailors. Only this time, Castiel wasn't in on it.
Yes, he knew about the Saviors, but they'd kept him in the dark about everything else. Castiel didn't know about Jake's murder, or about Scott's kidnapping. He thought the twins had left. On their volition. Because Enid and her friends had lied to him. They'd been lying to him for days.
Enid didn't mind lying to the townspeople – they were nowhere near ready to hear about an angel in their midst – but she hated lying to Cas.
Enid let out a soft exhale. "Maybe it's time, Claire."
"He's still recovering," Claire was quick to argue, already shaking her head. "It's too soon."
"I saw him switch off the light yesterday. Without even touching anything," said Mikey in a placating tone. He looked at Enid for a second, and offered her a slight nod. They both knew who among them needed convincing. "He couldn't do that before, right?"
Claire's nostrils flared. "Yeah," she said sarcastically. "That's really impressive. I bet the Saviors will be just terrified."
"Can you do that?" Mikey asked, scowling.
Claire's eyes narrowed. With a bit of effort, she stood up – the bean bag did not leave much room for grace – and picked up a foam ball from a cluttered side table. Then she threw it at the light switch. The room darkened, but not by much. There was plenty of light pouring from the windows.
"There, not touching it!" Claire announced, hands on her hips. She frowned as Copacabana ended and Mandy began to play.
Mikey crossed his arms. "You're really mean today, you know that?"
Enid was about to interject, but something outside caught her attention. The town was in high spirits that day, with more people out and about than usual. Among them was a familiar hat-and-stomp who was clearly heading their way.
"Carl's coming back," Enid announced, stomach sinking. He didn't look very happy, although Enid really couldn't say she was surprised. Carl and his dad had been butting heads since the moment they'd been brought back to Alexandria.
"Already?" Claire asked, frowning.
Moments later, the door swung open with a loud bang. Carl stormed into his bedroom, wearing a deep scowl and carrying… maple syrup?
"How'd it go?" Enid asked, as if she could not already tell.
"Awful," Carl replied, kicking the door shut behind him. "Dad's not listening to me at all."
"Daddy issues again?" Claire teased.
Carl glared. "Like you're one to talk."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Claire bristled.
"Will you take it down a notch?" Enid asked, starting to get annoyed by everyone's sour moods. "Carl – what did you find out?" She waved at the bottle of maple syrup in his hand. "And what's up with–?"
Sighing loudly, Carl collapsed into the bean bag Claire had just vacated. His hat fell off his head, but he didn't bother picking it up. He dropped the bottle of maple syrup to the floor. "Dad's in the storeroom. He's making sure everyone gets their fair share." Carl scowled.
Enid frowned. The town was in good spirits today thanks to Aaron and Eric. The couple had returned from a long supply run, bringing back the motherlode of all finds – some dead prepper's untouched stash. Alexandria was running on a high of canned goods and freeze-dried everything. It was enough to make everyone feel better about their lot in life.
The Saviors' long absence might've contributed to everyone's good moods, also. Still, making sure everyone gets their fair share was part of living in a community. Everything had to be rationed, so what was Carl upset about?
"So?" Enid asked, confused.
Carl smiled bitterly. "Including the Saviors."
Mikey, who'd been slouching against the wall, immediately straightened up. "They're coming back? When?"
"Still no idea," said Carl, throwing an arm to cushion the back of his head. "They're packing half of everything into a pallet now. Half."
Claire gave an aggravated sigh. Mikey's expression tightened, but he said nothing. Enid was pretty sure her expression mirrored Carl's. It felt so wrong. Aaron and Eric had risked their lives looking for supplies for a town that was practically starving, and yet the Saviors got to take half of it. And they'd been doing that for – what, weeks? Months?
"Dad thinks the Saviors are gonna show up eventually." Carl snaked a finger into the bandage covering his eye and scratched his cheekbone. "No sign of them yet. Although…"
"What?" Enid asked.
"Aaron said they'd spotted black smoke rising somewhere northwest. Thought they'd heard gunshots, too." Carl dropped his hand with a sigh. "That's all they know. They didn't think a detour would be worth the trouble."
That part made sense, at least. Enid looked down at her lap, considering. It could be anything, really. It wasn't like distant gunfire was an uncommon event these days. She didn't blame Aaron and Eric for not looking into it. Even without their precious cargo to worry about, no one with a lick of common sense would go and investigate something like that. That was just inviting trouble.
"It could be that army Jesus talked about," Mikey said, his gaze taking on a sudden excited shine. "Shouldn't we, y'know, try to find out? We know they've been keeping the Saviors busy."
"Yeah, well, Dad doesn't think it's worth checking out," Carl grumbled.
"I mean, does he have to know?" Claire asked, her voice taking on a note of suggestion.
No one had ever accused her friends of having too much common sense.
"It seems like a long shot," Enid pointed out, unconvinced. "We don't know who these people are."
"It's an opportunity," Carl stated simply. He was staring up at the ceiling, not addressing any one of them in particular. "This army, whoever they are, they're keeping the Saviors distracted, right? So maybe this is just the right time for us to get a shot at Negan. I could do it – I know how to get to Sanctuary, the twins took me there. If I could just find a way inside, maybe I could catch Negan off guard – "
"Dumb," Claire interrupted his musings. "First of all, you haven't got any firepower. And even if you did – " she covered one of her eyes – "you don't exactly shoot straight."
Carl lifted himself to his elbows, glaring. "At least it's a plan."
"It's a dumb plan," Claire said dryly.
Mikey huffed. "What do you want to do, then?" he demanded, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He probably would've paced, if there was enough room for it. "The Saviors could show up any minute. We don't know what they know – we're basically sitting ducks! I really think it's time we talked to Cas. Maybe he could – "
"What?" Claire snapped. "Puke on them?"
Mikey pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a noise of annoyance. "You're treating him like a kid."
Claire drew a hissed breath. "I know Cas," she said in a dangerously soft voice. "Longer than you. If you tell him what really happened, he'll leave." She let out a humorless laugh. "He can barely walk, Mikey. Do you really think he can fight the Saviors?"
"I think he deserves to know what happened to Jake," Mikey stated, eyes narrowed.
"We'll tell him," Claire said hurriedly, her face reddening with the effort of keeping her emotions in check. "But not yet. Mikey, he's not well yet. He's gonna get himself killed."
"He's not your dad, Claire!" Mikey suddenly exploded, making them all flinch. His fists, clenched at his sides, were shaking. "We're just wasting time, sitting around here doing nothing. God knows what those bastards have been doing to Scott – "
"Keep your voice down!" Claire hissed.
"Guys…" Carl started to say, sitting up in his bean bag. He looked concerned.
"I never agreed to keep it a secret!" Mikey shouted, his face splotched with red. "You're just gonna make us sit back with our thumbs up our asses – "
"Make you?" Claire demanded incredulously, stomping toward Mikey. "All you ever did was hide behind our backs. Castiel's, mine, Jake's. How dare you –"
"You're right – I'm weak," Mikey retorted, glaring back at Claire without flinching. He was taller than her, but that didn't make the slightest bit of difference. "And you're a freak, so what, does it means you get to tell me what to do – "
Mikey's flailing hand jostled the record player. The music stopped with a jarring noise before skipping right back to Copacabana.
/she sits there so refined and drinks herself half-blind/
/she lost her youth and she lost her Tony now she's lost her mind/
Groaning, Claire dragged her hand across her face. "I'm never gonna get this stupid song outta my head." She sighed. "Fuck Rico."
Mikey's shoulders slumped. "Lola deserved better."
Claire found herself a spot against the wall to lean on. "I know Cas isn't my dad." She hugged her arms to her chest. "He doesn't even really look like him anymore. It's not that." She chewed on her lip, not meeting anyone's eyes. "I know what Cas is like. He won't wait around until he gets better. He'll go after the Saviors, and then what? Right now, he's weak. They'll kill him."
"Or worse," Enid said softly.
It was a constant cause of stress in the back of Enid's mind. The Hunters knew what Castiel was. They'd wanted to trap him, to use him for his powers. And the Saviors had wiped the floor with them. Even worse, The Saviors had gotten their hands on Victor, that one-legged British asshole, self proclaimed expert on angels.
Maybe Jesus had managed to get the word to his spy inside Sanctuary. But was it too late? Had the Saviors already tortured the truth out of Victor?
Had they tortured the truth out of Scott?
Enid brought her knees to her chest, the dresser wobbling under her weight. "I feel like we're in the eye of a storm." And the stormwall was closing in on them, fast. It was only a matter of time until the Saviors turned their sights back on Alexandria.
"A shitstorm, you mean," Mikey muttered darkly.
"I don't know what to do," Enid admitted. "What if… what if the Saviors do show up again, and this time they know everything?" She fiddled with the ends of her sleeves, an old nervous habit. "Cas is gonna get blindsided and it'll be our fault." Enid sighed. "I think Mikey's right. We have to tell him."
Claire drew a sharp breath through her nose. Then she turned her gaze on Carl. "You've been quiet," she stated, eyes narrowed. "What do you think we should do?"
There was a long pause.
"I think we can stand to wait a few more days," Carl finally said, a note of apology in his voice. "I'm with Claire – Cas needs time to heal. And I think – I think the town's gonna protect him, angel or not."
"What?" Claire asked, surprised.
"Look, he's already the talk of the town. You both are. You survived a bite, Claire, and he's… well, you remember what he looked like when we brought him in. Most of them think it's a miracle." Carl shrugged, embarrassed. "I mean, they're not exactly wrong."
Enid hummed thoughtfully. "Yesterday, Olivia brought him soup."
Poor Castiel. He'd put up a polite face while Olivia fluttered around him like a fussy nursemaid, choking down the chicken noodle soup (well, chicken-flavored), looking at Enid with such betrayal, like he couldn't believe what she was making him do, even though Enid had a bowl herself and thought it tasted pretty damn good.
"What about your dad?" Mikey asked Carl, frowning. "He's getting suspicious."
"Leave my dad out of it," Carl said sharply. He let out a sigh, softening. "Look, Dad's not exactly been stable these past couple of years, let alone these past couple of weeks. Throw Cas at him on top of everything else?" He let out a joyless laugh. "You don't – you don't know what he gets like. Like when Mom died…" He trailed off with a sigh, covering his face in his hands. "Dad's gonna have a mental breakdown."
There was a short pause. "He's your leader," Claire stated, somewhat tentatively.
Carl dropped his hands and glared. "He's been through a lot. He's done a lot. Look around you, Claire. We're not – we're not exactly swarming with therapists, are we?"
The back of Claire's head thumped the wall. "Let's be real – everybody needs therapy these days."
"Denise was a psychiatrist," Enid sighed, not sure why she was evening bringing that up.
Carl smiled sadly. "Yeah." He stretched his arm so he could pick up the stress ball from the floor. He squeezed it solemnly. "Hey," he suddenly perked up. "Why are we listening to Barry Manilow?"
Claire shot him a glare of disbelief. "You're just noticing now?"
He frowned. "I have a lot on my mind."
The view from Carl's window caught Enid's attention again. Although Carl's home was located on a dead-end street in Alexandria, his bedroom had a clear sight line to the main road. Enid squinted, leaning closer to the window.
Yes, that was definitely Castiel, stumbling out of the infirmary in his ragged blue coat, walking around like he hadn't been given clear and strict instructions to stay put and rest. Even from this distance, it was easy to see that he was struggling.
Eyes narrowed, Enid decided to try something. She lifted a hand to her temple, just like any self-respecting psychic in pretty much any movie that had ever ever existed –
"What are you doing, Enid?" Carl asked.
"Shh."
– and concentrated on her inner voice, picturing broadcasting her thoughts across the room, across the street, maybe across the entire town. Taking a long, deep breathe, Enid called out in her mind, as clearly as she could:
Sup, Cas?
Castiel stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he turned around, seeking her out. Enid gave him a friendly wave. Then she winced in sympathy as Claire pulled up to the window and, spotting Castiel, practically growled.
"That jackass." Claire's breath fogged up the glass. "He knows he's not supposed to be out of bed. Where the hell is he going?" She turned her glare to Enid. "Were you praying?"
Enid let out a long sigh. They'd been over this a million times. "It's telepathy." Then, ignoring Claire's spluttering, Enid jumped off the dresser and made her way out the door, pulling Claire behind her.
She had a feeling Castiel was going to need a rescue.