Zedler, M.D. // Daryl Dixon

Chapter Seventy-Seven: Beer on the Wall

•seventy-seven•

Beatrix

When Lucas and I join the others back out in the open part of the church, they seem to have a plan in place to take care of the fuckers that took Bob.

"Listen, my number one priority was to protect Eugene so we could get a cure," Abraham stands up, looking around the room. "Now, my number one priority is to protect Beatrix and make sure her cure gets into my body. There is a threat to her safety here, and I need to get her out."

"Listen, man, she's got plenty enough protection here with us," Baxly says, looking pretty offended with Abraham. "She doesn't need you."

"Abraham, we will head to D.C. tomorrow, after we take care of these guys. You weren't in the butcher room. You didn't get to see who that are, what they do to people," I subconsciously shiver, my mind flashing back to the skinned bodies and the human flesh. "They don't deserve to live."

"The butcher room?" Glenn questions, and Rick, Daryl, Merle, Baxly and I look to each other before answering.

"Them pricks were cannibals. They were gonna kill us all and eat us if yours truly here hadn't gone all Ted Bundy on their asses and mutilated them," Merle takes it upon himself to explain the situation, even though I wish he would have left out the part about me. "You could tell they were a bunch of fucking Democrats, the way they talked about wanting to provide for everyone and the rest of their communist bullshit."

"Hey, don't talk bad about the Democrats," I say, a little offended. It couldn't be that hard to guess my political beliefs.

"Oh, hell no. Don't tell me you're a democrat," Merle looks at me as if I have just stolen his birthday. "Ain't no Dixon in the past two hundred years been a Democrat."

"Well, there's one now," I smile at him and he flips me off. "But that's beside the point."

"You mean to tell me I married a fucking Democrat?" Daryl speaks up from the corner of the room.

"Oh, my god, give it up on the Democrat bullshit. It doesn't even matter anymore anyway," Rick finally intervenes. "The point is that only five of us know what they're really capable of. The rest of you need to trust us when we say that they don't deserve to live."

"All right. You have until high noon tomorrow, then we're getting our asses out of here and on to D.C.," Abraham finally gives in, gathering up his weapons.

"We'll all go tomorrow. This plan will work," I say, very optimistic for the plan. It's truly genius. "Then we'll head to D.C."

After Rick finishes going over the last details of the plan, it's time for it to be put into action. Most of the group heads out the front door of the church, leaving only Tyreese, Bob, Judith, Carl, Rosita, and Gabriel behind to hold dow Bc the fort. The rest of us take off, headed in the direction of the elementary school that the Termites were holed up at. Once we get about five minutes out, Daryl stops us.

"There," he says, pointing to the ground. "Got their tracks. They're fresh. They're headed to the church now."

"Good. Let's go. Remember the plan, and be ready," Rick says, leading the group back the way they came. The idea had been to trick them into thinking we had left our most vulnerable behind, and they would take them on as easy targets. We would be able to get back in time to really fuck them up before they hurt anyone.

Rick is quiet as he creeps into the church, using his Python to put two bullets in the men standing closest to the door with Carl and Judith behind.

"Put your guns on the floor," Rick says, stepping slightly into the light, just enough to barely be seen.

"Put your gun down, Rick, or I'll unload thirty rounds into that door. Think Carl will make it through that?" Gareth teases, which obviously rubs Rick the wrong way. He shoots again, this time two of Gareth's fingers go flying across the church.