Notes: Long ol' chapter this one.
The Shack
Before long, all the weapons, medicine, food — what little they had — had been moved to a makeshift wagon from the old car out back that Sasha and Jerry had spent the morning getting in good enough shape to move. Carl helped Rhys hitch up the few horses they had left to pull the rust bucket, excluding Downy and two others that were too old for wagon work. It was a bit of a mission finding places to connect the horses' tacks, so the boys tried hammering some nails they'd found in the pantry into the car.
"Carl!" Judith came barreling out of the house with a shriek so startling that Carl, mid-hammer swing, missed a nail and caught Rhys' thumb, apologising when Rhys gasped at the sudden pain.
"What is it, Jude?" Carl asked, leaving Rhys to cradle his hand and seethe when he saw it wasn't that bad.
Judith pointed over her shoulder to the cabin, out of breath. "Mom," she panted.
Carl didn't waste a second running into the building as fast as his sister had left it — this time with Judith on his heels. He apologised to the several people he barged out of the way on his crusade to their room upstairs. Inside, RJ was perched on the end of the bed with the radio on his lap.
Carl grabbed it.
"Michonne?"
There was a small gasp of relief from the receiver, then, "Call sign, please."
"Sorry," Carl gasped, chuckling as he squeezed the radio tightly. "Hi, Daito."
"Hey, BK," Michonne sighed, sounding satisfied. Carl thought that she also sounded sniffily, like she'd been crying for a while.
"We've been waiting for you," Carl told her, regretting the misery that seeped from his voice but finding it impossible to suppress how badly it affected him.
"I know," Michonne whispered, clearly able to feel the mix of pain and anger through the plastic. "I'm sorry. I'm here now."
Carl sat on the bed, feeling a little light-headed from relief. He pulled RJ onto his lap. Judith took the walkie from them.
"Are you still with Vergil?" she asked.
"No," the radio crackled, "but I found three people on the island, and I'm helping them get back home."
Carl frowned, nodding to Judith so she could hold down the button for him to speak. "Where's home?"
"Not too far, kiddo," Michonne said. Carl heard her gulp. "I've missed you three so much."
Judith handed the radio to RJ, who fidgeted on Carl's lap with his hand outstretched.
"Mama," he said happily.
"Call sign for safety, Arj," Judith told him.
"Daito," RJ said. "You're Daito."
"Hey baby," Michonne whined happily. "And who are you?"
"I'm Little Brave Man," RJ told her, looking up at Carl, who grinned down at him encouragingly.
"Oh," Michonne sighed. "I love 'Little Brave Man'."
"He picked it all by himself," Judith said quickly, seeing that RJ hadn't remembered to let go of the button, and trying to get her words in.
"I'm so glad you're all back home together."
Carl watched Judith wince and felt his own face drop. He took the walkie from RJ.
"We're not," he said, trying not to let his voice get too ominous for RJ's sake. "Things got... bad... back home. We all went to Hilltop to stay safe."
"And are you?"
"Alpha's dead, and we got most of the horde. We've got a plan... we're going to finish it."
Michonne let out a short gasp, then took a shaky breath.
"Mom always makes that sound when she's worried," Judith said.
"Do not."
"Do, too," Carl told her.
"Um... guys..."
Carl squinted, knowing that tone of voice. Like she was scared to share.
"Michonne?"
"I found something. Not what I was looking for on the island, but something else, something on a shipwreck that... it could be really important to all of us."
"I don't understand," Carl said, feeling goosebumps under his sleeves, even where his arm was burnt. Judith watched, her eyes round and fixed on the radio in his hand.
"I found his boots..."
Judith frowned, looking at Carl's face, seeing how hard and quickly it was struck with shock. He felt his heart beat faster.
"Are you sure?" Carl whispered, his voice suddenly trembling.
"Baby, they were his. I don't know what it means. But I found a logbook... last stop New Jersey. And I found an iPhone with you and me scratched into the screen... his name... something I couldn't read, too."
Maybe it was the tears streaming down the side of Carl's face or the way he gripped RJ tighter. Maybe it was just the break in Michonne's voice when she said 'his name'. But Judith's face seemed to crumble as she caught on.
"The Brave Man's boots?" she asked, her voice tiny.
Carl's hands shook as he wiped away tears and squeezed the radio.
"Michonne.. Dad's alive?"
"I don't know, baby. I don't know what any of it means..."
"Are you still on the island? Give me a day. Just give me a day. I can get to Oceanside and then come to you."
"Me, too," Judith said quickly. Carl saw how scared she looked.
"No," Carl told her sharply. "No, you have to stay here—"
"You both have to stay there," Michonne told them. "Carl, no... everyone needs you there. Your brother and sister need you there."
"What if Dad needs me more!"
Carl saw his siblings staring at him. He the way they stared. He hadn't felt like such a scared little kid in so long — probably hadn't looked like one, either.
Carl softened his tensed brow, blinking, sighing. He pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded, tears still streaming down the side of his face.
"I'll bring him home," Michonne said. "I'll bring him back."
Carl handed the walkie to RJ and told him to tell his mom he loved her, then told him to pass it to Judith, who did her best to hold back tears as she told her mom to bring The Brave Man home.
Carl shooed them from the room after, clearing the lump in his throat and raising the walkie.
"I want to go with you."
"I know."
"More than anything."
"I know, baby."
"When Mom d... died—" Carl croaked, letting go of the button when he stuttered, blinking away tears.
"Carl—"
"When Mom died, I thought I lost some...something— something that I wouldn't ever get back again." He cleared his throat. "I miss her every day. Every day I think about her... what s...she'd think. What she would s...say. I think she would love you. She'd say something harsh... then s...something kind. I was wrong that I'd never get anything back. I love you, Michonne. You're my best friend."
"You're mine, too."
"You're also..." Carl paused. He struggled to say what he meant. "You know what I mean... I'm glad it was you."
"I love you so much, baby. You're my world. The three of you are my world."
"Come back safe," Carl told her. "I can't lose any more."
The Tower
-Five Hours Later-
DEAD IS US NOW
Gabriel caught Rhys staring up at the words as he passed him in one of the hospital's many hallways. They were written in blood, smeared messily along the wall.
"You're okay?" Gabriel asked, adjusting the shotgun he had slung over his shoulder on his way to the stairwell.
"Yeah," Rhys said, distant from the word as he gently brushed his fingers along the wall.
Gabriel watched, his damp brow furrowed with concern.
"The last of Alexandria just arrived," Gabriel said instead of asking questions. "Like we expected, the scouts have suggested the horde is moving towards home. If this plan doesn't work—"
"It'll work," Rhys told him, still studying the cracked wall under his fingertips. "Trust Luke."
"I do." Gabriel nodded, smiling with tightly pursed lips as he reached out and gently squeezed Rhys' shoulder. "Just as I trust in you."
Gabriel turned to leave for the stairwell at the end of the hallway.
"What do you think they meant?" Rhys called to him as he reached halfway down the hall. Rhys nodded to the words on the wall when Gabriel looked back at him.
"I don't know," Gabriel answered. "But I think I know what it should mean for us."
Rhys looked at him. "What?"
"That is what it is to give up..." Gabriel pointed at the wall before Rhys. "We are what it means to carry on."
Rhys swallowed as he looked back to the wall.
"Coming up?" Gabriel asked as he reached the door to the stairwell.
Rhys nodded.
The hospital, now code-named The Tower, was their final base of operations. Everyone was here. The communities had been evacuated, each bringing all their might together for one last stand against the Whisperers.
Enough time had gone by now that all the deaths since Hilltop had started to find Rhys. Eduardo and a few others still hadn't shown up and were assumed dead. Rhys hadn't heard about Mary until Carl finally decided to bring it up on their journey to The Tower. She died saving him, Adam, Alden, and Kelly — Beta gutted her.
With their Alpha dead and Negan's insider knowledge no longer useful, they couldn't know the Whisperer's next move after hitting Alexandria and finding it empty. Lydia was sure that Beta would have taken over by now, but without her mother to guide him, she wasn't sure she could predict anything.
It didn't matter, though.
Their scouts were out there, tracking the horde's movements.
Aaron and Carl had remained at Alexandria to try and gauge the Whisperer's numbers.
And they had a plan. Sasha led a small team back to Hilltop to salvage what was left of the radio equipment hours ago. Luke was working on it now; trying to jerry-rig a speaker system loud enough to corral the horde from the Whisperer's control and lead it straight off the nearest cliff — brilliant really. Luke was still recovering from the fight at Hilltop but hadn't stopped working since he and Aaron arrived. Rhys could tell that, like everyone else, he felt a certain responsibility for what happened at Hilltop.
But, again, as Rhys watched everyone work, he could tell the same for them.
Kelly was teaching ASL to some of the Alexandrians that hadn't picked any up from her or Connie.
Lydia was helping Jenny craft arrows for the archers still in any condition to shoot.
Carol and Jerry were taking inventory of all the weapons they carried from Hilltop or ones Alexandria and Oceanside had been able to bring.
Negan was making stew from a possum Dianne had shot from three stories up.
Even Pumpkin seemed to rally the local cat life living in The Tower to keep the rats at bay from their dwindling food stores. Rhys was glad to see the cat made it, fearing the worst after losing him at Hilltop.
"Can I help?" Rhys asked Luke, who was muttering something about 'Eugeneius'. "Feeling pretty useless."
Luke scoffed at him with his wide and innocent eyes that were as kind as they'd ever been. "You? Useless? You're inspiring the troops, boss."
Rhys grimaced at him. "Don't think I'm anyone's boss anymore."
"Sure you are," Luke told him. "I get that it probably doesn't feel like it right now, but we're still counting on you and Sash for a little leadership here."
"Think you should maybe look to Carl and Gabe for that," Rhys chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck uneasily as he watched Luke solder two wires together on a large block of speakers.
"All due respect to your significant other and the coolest priest I've ever met, but... they didn't take me and mine in. Yeah, that was you, man. You vouched for my family and gave us the chance to be a part of all this."
Rhys' cheeks ran a little hot then. "Sure, but—"
"Like I said..." Luke cut in loudly. "Nothing but love for our Alexandrian brothers and sisters, but the Hilltop tribe ain't broken, and you're our chief, capeesh? You and Sasha ever decide to build Hilltop two-point-oh... me and mine, we're there."
"Thanks, Luke," Rhys sighed. "But still, can I help?"
Luke pulled a face. "Depends on how good your taste in music is."
"Impeccable," Rhys told him.
"Fancy a trip into town?"
The Horde
The horde was tumultuous in the blended roar that it howled, and Carl was trying too hard not to faint from how high they were to worry about the number of walkers flooding into Alexandria below them. He could hear the whooshing of the mill's blades passing them by each time as they hid inside the structure. The blood pounding in Carl's ears seemed loudest.
They'd been there when the last riders had left Alexandria and spent all day waiting for the certain doom that now filled the streets below them.
Carl had grabbed one of the art books from his room and was now squatted with his back to the wall, marking down a line on the paper for each time Aaron spotted a new Whisperer in the crowd.
"Do you see him?" Carl Whispered, his back pressing firmly against the rough wood of the mill wall as he marked number twelve, watching Aaron peer his head back out the window. "Beta?"
Carl wasn't ready for the sheer look of terror Aaron used to glare at him after he brought his head back into the mill.
Carl didn't need any words to work it out.
They were high up, but he heard the heavy thudding of boots on the deck of the walkway that was outside and only a few feet below them. One set of feet was far heavier than the others.
They listened as someone spoke.
"No sign of them... they left quickly. Couldn't have gotten far. Do we search elsewhere, Alpha?"
Carl heard a scuffle of feet and a sharp yelp.
"Forgive me, Beta! We see her within you is all."
Aaron stuck his head out once more, and the look of fear on his face when he darted back into cover was far scarier this time.
Carl pointed to his eye in a panic, then to Aaron, using what little sign he knew.
'Did they see you?'
Aaron shook his head.
Suddenly they heard Beta's gruff voice below them.
"Prepare the guardians... to the ocean, they walk. Leave few and ruin this false idol to their dead world."
The Perimeter
Sasha and Daryl finished their third lap of The Tower's perimeter before the sun shone its pale white blaze of growing noon. Sasha's rifle was next to empty on bullets after the battle, but Rhys had passed on the sawn-off shotgun they'd recovered from the Whisperers to her, now sat comfortably on her hip in a holster she'd found on a dead one.
"You know," Daryl said, breaking their familiar tradition of patrolling in silence, "bein' on the run like this, barely scraping by... reminds me of the old gang."
Sasha grinned down at the floor as she walked beside him. "Yeah, me, too."
"Seems like ages ago now."
"Because it was," Sasha said.
"We could handle anything back then."
"We could."
"Carl told you about Michonne?"
"Yeah, New Jersey... sure isn't close."
"Nah," Daryl agreed. "Dangerous, too."
"You thinking about going?"
"'Course," Daryl said, chewing on his lip as he nodded. "Apparently Judith was worried me and Carol would."
"Do I gotta start worrying?" Sasha raised her thin eyebrow.
"You don't," Daryl said firmly. "We've got enough shit going on here."
They turned to the sound of an alerted walker not far away, pushing through a thicket of holly to find Judith slicing off its leg and planting her sword in its head.
"Judith," Daryl hissed in annoyance as they watched the girl retract her blade. "What are you doing?"
"I'm fine," Judith said cooly, wiping her sword clean against the walker's jacket.
"We can see that," Sasha said, an amused eye on her little sword.
"Who you with?" Daryl asked, sounding far less amused.
Judith looked at her feet. "No one."
"C'mon, I'm taking you back," Daryl said. "You good to finish this round, Sasha?"
"Sure am," she said, already walking forward, only stopping when Judith spoke again.
"Please," Judith begged. "I wanna stay."
"No," Daryl grunted.
"I left Rhys a note," Judith told them desperately. "I swear it's fine."
"Oh," Sasha sighed. "I'm sure he's not gonna overreact to that at all."
"He never gets mad at me," Judith scoffed.
"Don't matter," Daryl said matter-of-factly. "We're going back."
"No! I hate it up there. Smells like cat pee." She peered up at Daryl and Sasha. "I wanna learn what you guys do, how to keep us safe. In case something happens."
"In case what happens?" Sasha asked, her eyebrows and the rest of her face all aimed upwards when Judith's sweetness softened her stance.
Judith shrugged her small shoulders. "I overheard you talking about the old gang... what happened?"
"You know what happened," Daryl told her. "You've heard the stories."
"But we're the only ones left from that group, right?"
"Sure," Daryl said, "and your brother and Rhys. Your mom. Gabriel and Rosita. Eugene and Carol. Maggie, too."
"And you can all take care of people, and you do," Judith said. "I should be able to as well... I'm the only one who can't."
Daryl glanced at Sasha. She shrugged, nodding.
"We walk the perimeter," Daryl said firmly. "We look for anything that looks wrong. If we find something, we go somewhere safe, and we radio it in."
Judith held her nerve as she looked up at them with determination in her eyes.
"There's no room for mistakes," Daryl told her. "Not right now."
"I know."
"Alright," Daryl sighed. "If you do this with us... you do everything me and Sasha say, and you stay next to us, alright?"
"Promise," Judith said with a smile.
Daryl glanced at Sasha again.
"Let's keep it moving," she said, twisting her face into a sort of shrug.
The Horde
They tried not to worry too much about Alexandria as they left it behind in the wake of the horde.
Carl and Aaron followed from a distance, getting nervous as they noticed Beta halting his horde more often as they moved towards the coast. At one point, Carl saw the behemoth pull a knife on one of his own people through his binoculars — he didn't see Beta kill them, and quickly lost sight of them in the crowd.
They'd climbed a construction site perched on a steep precipice that overlooked the road on the lip of the forest, watching from above.
Carl's radio started to crap out when he tried to use it, so Aaron offered his metal arm to bash it against.
It sparked to life after that.
"Tower, do you copy?"
Gabriel responded.
"Yes, we copy."
"They're headed for Oceanside as planned."
"Any sign of slowing?"
"Maybe a little... but nothing to worry about yet. We'll stay on their ass, just in case, and send word if something changes."
"Copy that. Be safe."
"Same to you. Over."
The Perimeter
Sasha walked a few feet ahead of Judith and Daryl.
She sometimes wondered if she even chose to do things like that anymore. She knew she used to. She used to hate that feeling of being beside someone out here — that feeling of an anchor around your waist. Something that could take your attention just long enough that you would lose. That's what it was to her — she realised it as she kept moving — winning. Being out here and living, that was winning.
Sasha spotted a small tear of flesh caught on the tree ahead of her, but at the same time as noticing it, she heard the steadying noise of snapping twigs and brushed leaves behind her — she stopped, knowing the other two had stood still.
Glancing behind her, Sasha saw Daryl with his hand on Judith's shoulder, looking down at her.
"A hunter moves... everything else moves around it," he explained to her. "Try to spot things that don't belong... things that just don't feel right. Take a look. Tell me what you see."
Judith carefully stepped past both of them as if stepping on the wrong branch might make Daryl send her back. She arrived at the skin caught to the tree bark.
"Living or dead?" Daryl asked.
"Walker," Judith said.
"Means they could be roundin' more up," Sasha sighed.
"What about you, Sasha?" Judith asked, gesturing a small hand to her gun. "How do you move?"
"It depends," Sasha said, looking down at her.
Judith rethought her question. "How are you moving now?"
Sasha pulled a tight smile. "Like everything is them."
Judith looked confused. "How so?"
Sasha nodded to the skin. "Living and dead is hard to know when the living pretends to be the dead."
"Oh," Judith gasped. "Oh, okay, I see. What do you think it is?"
Sasha let a real smile creep onto her face then. "Dead."
Judith grinned. "Score."
"Let's keep moving," Daryl said, trudging onward. "Stay between us, Judith."
Now, though... Sasha realised that the anchor wasn't so bad. Slowing down when you win is how you get your prize she thought.
"Psst," Daryl hissed at them both, gesturing silently to their left as he crouched low behind a blueberry bush.
Sasha saw the small pack of five walkers, taking a few seconds to study them.
She raised her rifle.
Chook!
The walker, with its face loose and eyes wide, clutched their leg in pain and fell backwards into a dried-out ditch. The other walkers set upon her as she wailed, but Judith and Daryl got to work clearing the stragglers.
The woman in the ditch drew a knife from her sleeve as they appeared over the bank above her.
"Throw it over there," Daryl spat, aiming his crossbow. "Now!"
"I will if you don't get my head," the Whisperer panted, her knife trembling in her pale hand. "I want to walk."
"Drop the knife and we'll think about it," Daryl told her.
The woman nervously watched as Sasha started making her way down the slope toward her, waving her knife at her to keep her at bay. But Sasha was neither put off by the knife nor did she have any trouble kicking it out of the Whisperer's hand. Sasha stamped her boot on where the Whisperer's leg was oozing blood. She wailed. Quickly, Sasha snatched the mask off her head and stuffed it into the pocket of her denim jacket.
"Where's Beta?" Sasha growled.
"A few miles east!" the lady cried as Sasha ground her boot against the wound. "They're— they're headed to the ocean!"
"And the horde?" Daryl asked.
She nodded desperately, clutching Sasha's boot.
Daryl grunted. "You a scout?"
"I was— AUGHH, PLEASE," the Whisperer begged when Sasha didn't relieve any pressure from her leg. "I had no choice! Beta's crazy! He's crazy!"
Sasha finally moved her boot, and the lady gasped, foaming at the mouth as she clutched her leg.
"Crazy?" Sasha scoffed. "You only just realised?"
"I love those people," the woman groaned. "But he's—" She looked up at the sky, her eyes misty.
"He's what?" Daryl barked.
"Lost it!" she wailed. "After what you did to her. He wears her face. He speaks her words— speaks to himself. He's blood, and he is fury, and rage, and he is coming for you for what you did!"
Sasha scoffed, stepping aside for Daryl to take the shot they both knew was coming.
The Whisperer gulped. "Please... please could you just—"
Daryl silenced her with a bolt through the face.
Judith gasped.
"They still think we're at Oceanside," Sasha said, yanking the bolt from the woman's temple and tossing it back to Daryl. "Plan's working."
He nodded, slotting his arrow back into his crossbow's holder.
"You didn't have to do that," Judith said quietly.
"She didn't have any information for us, anyway," Daryl said, offering a hand to Sasha as she scaled back up the bank. "She was gonna die. Better to be quick."
"We're gonna leave her?" Judith sounded surprised as she watched them start to walk back the way they came.
"C'mon, Jude," Sasha said, beckoning her away from the ditch.
"Maybe she has a family!" Judith argued.
Daryl marched back and grabbed her arm, pulling her away. "If they're only a few miles away, maybe we can spot something from the top of The Tower."
The Horde
"You think this will work?" Carl asked Aaron as they snuck through the bushiest thicket they could find, sacrificing themselves to scratched skin to stay parallel with the road the horde was on.
"It has to," Aaron told him. "For the kids... for Gracie."
"I was there when Mary died," Carl told him in a low voice as they crept forward, holding up a low-reaching branch for Aaron to duck under. "She saved us all... died for a nephew she never got the chance to know. I keep getting stuck on that. She spent her whole life living just for the sake of being alive... apparently, she killed her sister for Alpha just to stay alive. Then, in the end, she died for him. Why?"
"I think there's a lot of reasons," Aaron sighed. "People are complicated... she was. But Adam will know about her when he grows up. That's why she died. For the chance to live on longer than scraping by would ever give her."
Carl thought about this. His eye started to itch the longer he dwelled on it.
"You think she did it for credit?"
"No," Aaron said. "But I know when I die, I want some part of me to carry on in Gracie— others, too. Mary wouldn't have gotten that if she'd died how she lived most of her life."
Carl winced. He wasn't sure if carried anything for his dad. He'd decided a long time ago that he'd never live up to the person his mom wanted him to be. He'd done too much. Spoiled himself and been spoiled. He knew he tried, though. Carl knew that he lived for the people that got him here. He wondered if that was what Aaron meant.
"Wait," Aaron hissed suddenly, pointing to the road. "Shit."
Carl followed his finger to the familiar frail cat crossing the road ahead of the horde. Pumpkin had two other cats with him, all headed in the direction of The Tower. Maybe Dante had mentioned the ratty orange cat. Maybe it was the green scarf Lydia had made for him. But the horde was turning, following him straight toward The Tower.
"That stupid cat," Carl hissed, fumbling with his walkie.
"Call it in," Aaron urged.
Carl tried, bashing it against a tree a few times when it didn't respond, but the walkie-talkie had finally found the end of its life.
"We've gotta go," Aaron hissed as they started to move in hopes of staying ahead of the horde. "We gotta warn—"
The click of a revolver stopped them. Carl spun to face the gun now an inch from his face. Four more Whisperers appeared from the bushes.
The Perimeter
They were almost back when Sasha noticed just how quiet the journey had been.
"You okay?" she asked Judith who had been dragging her feet between them.
Judith stopped, so Daryl and Sasha did, too. Sasha scanned the area around them, and it seemed clear.
"I can't believe we just left her there," Judith said angrily. "In a ditch."
"Jude—" Daryl said gently.
"What if one of you were lost, and no one could find you?" Judith said, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Or Rhys... Carol... Or RJ or Carl... our mom."
"This is about her leaving, right?" Daryl said. "Carl told us, and you don't have to worry about—"
"That's what she said!" Judith cried at him, wiping her face messily. "Mom always used to say she'd never leave... now dad and her are gone. What if you and Carl go next?"
"You know your brother won't ever leave you," Daryl said. "But I can't lie to you, I don't know what might happen... but I do know, even if I had to go, or if he did... we'd always come back for you and RJ. I'd never stop trying. Nor would Carl."
"I don't want to lose any more of my family," Judith whimpered.
Sasha sank to her knee, reaching out for Judith's hand and waiting for her to take it.
"You know... I used to think I was so alone," Sasha said, her voice wavering as she blinked back tears that the little girl had stirred. "I lost people I loved so much, so many times that I thought it would never stop hurting. Then, I lost my brother... and it finally did stop. After I lost Tyreese, I didn't feel anything for a time."
Sasha grinned, her teeth chattering as her chin trembling and tears streamed down her cheeks.
Judith looked the same, her face a blubbering rubber mess of tears.
"Why are you smiling?" Judith asked.
"Because I was so wrong, baby girl," Sasha chuckled, squeezing her little hand. "I got you and Daryl. Rhys and Carl. Everyone back at that hospital and everyone who's gone. Thanks to all of them, I haven't lost the people I've lost. Not really. I'm reminded of them every time I see how big my family is."
Judith nodded, sobbing as she moved in to hug Sasha, surprising her a little in the nicest way.
"There's a whole bunch of people back at that tower who would do anything for you," Daryl said to Judith once she and Sasha pulled apart. "And one day, when you're older, they're gonna need you to do anything for them. You got a whole lot of family."
Judith looked down at her feet.
"Hey," Daryl said, putting his hands on his knees to reach her and Sasha's level. "Nothin' can take the place of someone you love being gone... but that doesn't mean that everything that follows is gonna break your heart."
Judith hugged him next, and Sasha took that moment to look away and clench her face tightly to stop the tears. She stood up afterwards, waiting for Daryl to bump Judith's chin gently and tell her they had to go. Sasha walked with Daryl a few paces behind Judith as they headed back, knocking her shoulder up against his.
"You ever tell anyone you saw me cry, and I'll make you cry, Dixon," Sasha warned him with a smirk.
"Yeah," Daryl nodded. "People know you cry, Williams. You're too tough not to cry."
"What does that even—"
The walkie on Daryl's belt cut them off.
"Daryl— where— you—"
Daryl frowned, unclipping the walkie from his belt and raising it.
"Come again, Gabriel, we can't hear you."
"Come back— tower's surro— surrounded— need the wagon—"
"Shit," Sasha hissed. "Time to go."
The Horde
"Let's talk," Carl cooed as the Whisperer with the gun took a step closer, almost within his reach.
"Drop your weapons," the Whisperer hissed.
"Sure," Carl said calmly, dropping his machete to the dirt. "Sure, but my friend might struggle— it being his hand and all."
"You joke, but this is the end for—"
The Whisperer took another step closer, and Carl made his move. He wasn't sure if he would be quick enough, but his knife, which was already halfway out of its sheath to be discarded, sliced through the Whisperer's wrist. Carl thanked his stars he didn't get shot. Enid had taught him about the ulnar artery once. How your wrist could become a fountain so quick that it would be almost impossible to stop without immediate medical attention. The Whisperer screamed as the very thing Carl once had explained to him was demonstrated before his eye, a geyser of blood spurting from under the Skin's sleeve. He dropped his gun, which Carl caught in the air and turned on him.
Click.
"Fuck," Carl hissed at the jammed weapon.
Aaron quickly got to work, swinging his mace through a horrified Whisperer's face before he could react.
Like lightning, Carl snatched ahold of the Whisperer in front of him by his bleeding wrist and dragged him closer, sticking his knife between the guy's ribs several times until he dropped to the ground a wheezing mess.
Aaron dodged a swipe one guy made for his head, driving his sword through the Whisperer's stomach that he'd left exposed before caving the back of his skull with his mace.
Another shrieked at Carl from under her mask, sprinting at him with a heavy-looking woodcutter's axe raised above her head, but Carl had already retrieved his machete and quickly sprung forward as a fencer might, jousting his blade into the lady's throat. She dropped the axe behind her head and latched her mud-crusted hands onto his blade as she gurgled on his steel — spewing mouthfuls of blood onto the blade. Carl yanked back his weapon, leaving her staggering on the spot for a few seconds, blood still spurting from the mouth hole of her mask. Carl swung hard and her head toppled from her shoulders.
The last Whisperer drew a rusted saw head attached to what used to be the shaft of a metal baseball bat. His eyes were a fanatical and terrifying yellow under his mask. Aaron and Carl stood a little taller as he held his arms out wide and roared at them both. Then his roar was cut into a feverish scream as both his arms were cleaved from his body at the shoulder. He dropped to his knees, still wailing in pain as he was reduced to an armless stump.
The man behind him wore a mask, too — only his was forged from cold, dark steel instead of rotten skin. He placed two razor-backed sickels on either side of the Whisperer's neck and yanked in opposite directions, sending his head tearing off from his body. The strange figure was dressed in a beige woollen trench coat with a hood that covered the back half of his head that his mask didn't. The stranger expertly flicked his blades around, sending two jets of blood in either direction.
Carl fumbled with the revolver on his waist, drawing it — not pointing it at the person who had helped them, but definitely preparing to avoid a hand-to-hand fight with him.
"Hi..." Aaron said slowly, propping his mace hand on his shoulder, also seeming hesitant to lower it. "Thank you?"
The hooded and masked stranger lowered his weapons. He gave them a firm nod.
"Thank you," Carl said more confidently. "But, erm, who are you?"
The man didn't speak. He raised his gloved hand, pointing to the horde still turning on the road beside them, and then he gestured for them to follow, sprinting into the woods.
Aaron and Carl glanced at each other nervously, but, still, they followed since they were heading that way already.
The two were both out of breath when they reached the empty street the stranger had brought them to after what felt like a ten-minute sprint. Carl peered around nervously, still concerned there might be a trap waiting for them somewhere. He was confident this person wasn't a Whisperer. But masked people still roused a suspicion in him.
The stranger stood still in the doorway to a music store, waiting patiently.
Carl took a step closer, Aaron following closely in his footsteps.
The stranger vanished inside within the blink of an eye.
"Hold up!" Aaron called out, annoyed. "Carl, wait."
But Carl decided to see this through and followed the stranger inside.
The walls were covered with the peeling posters of bands Rhys would probably recognise. The ceiling tiles were either missing or hanging from above, stagnant water dribbling from the rafters onto a floor that had grown grass in its years of neglect. One of the windows on the back wall let in a cascade of coloured sunlight through glass that was painted the colours of the pride flag, something Jenny had once explained each shade of to Carl.
The stranger was standing in the middle of the store by a stack of CDs that had been knocked over and trampled to shards of broken plastic.
"I come from a much bigger group," Carl told the stranger while taking a cautious step further into the store. "We have walls, and we look after each other... you could come back with us if you like."
"We're good people," Aaron said from the door.
The stranger didn't react physically, and Carl could say nothing of what was going on under the mask. He took another step closer.
"I don't know how far I'm gonna get with this," Carl mumbled under his breath before calling to the stranger, "How many walkers have you killed?"
"A lot more than the last time I saw you..."
Carl froze on the spot, moss and mushrooms between his feet. He knew that hadn't been the stranger. Carl knew because he knew that voice. He also knew that face and that smile when she stepped out from behind a shelf beside the stranger.
"Maggie?"
She kept smiling at him, and Carl rushed forward to hug her.
"I can't believe it," she gasped, holding him back, squeezing around his shoulders in a hug that Carl hadn't realised he'd missed. His stetson knocked against the black one she was wearing, and he buried his face into the shoulder of her pink blouse. "Hi, Carl."
"Holy crap," Aaron cried, hugging her next.
"I got the letter Carol left me," Maggie said, taking a moment to stare at them both and take them in, tucking her hair behind her ear, which she had grown out over the years. She held up a letter in her fingerless gloves. "Everythin' that's happened... I'm so sorry."
"We don't have time right now," Carl warned her. "The Whisperers, they're headed for everybody held up in The Tower... we have to help."
"Wait," Maggie gasped, clutching Carl's arm as he turned to leave. Her eyes were watery. "Carol's letter didn't say... we were headed for Hilltop when one of my people scoutin' ahead said they saw a boy here in this store with a young girl... said he had short messy black hair and didn't have an ear, and..."
She trailed off. She couldn't manage the words she needed to say, so Carl said the ones she needed to hear.
"Rhys is alive," he told her.
Maggie gasped, panting frantically as she bent forward and clutched her stomach. She was nodding at the floor.
"He's alive," she whispered. "He's alive."
"I don't know why he was here, but if he got the radio call, he'll be back at The Tower now," Carl said. "We have to try and get the horde turned around."
"It's impossible," Aaron said with a harsh grimace. "Beta knows how to control them. The plan was the only thing loud enough that would work."
Maggie was picking up a jet-black, ebony bow leant against the shelf she'd appeared from.
"Take me to this Tower," she said. "We'll get through the horde."
"There's thousands," Aaron hissed. "We've gotta find another way."
"Let's go." Maggie ignored him, pulling on a black raincoat and pinning it up. "Take me to my boy."
A/N
A mother leaves, a mother returns.
Holy guacamole, I have missed Maggie.