My civilisation (D.D)

(CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN)

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN
' NOTE '

     "YOU SHOULDN'T BE out here." Daryl said, walking over towards Tara, who was sat on the hood of a car, now that she was better after last nights attack.

     "Oh. It's just a scratch." She replied. Her arm was wrapped tightly in bandages — after Dwight had shot her with an arrow — but she wasn't injured too badly.

     "What if it wasn't?" He asked, as he stood in front of the car.

     "Then it'd be my own damn fault. He's back with them because of me."

     "No, he's back with 'em 'cause that's who he is." Daryl scoffed — he didn't trust Dwight as far as he could throw him. He always wished that he'd killed him when he had the chance.

     "We...We got lucky. Finding Maggie...Rick. It could've been different. It was, for me, when I was with the Governor." Tara pointed out. She'd be a hypocrite to forget that she'd switched sides after the governor died.

     "Yeah, but you weren't one of 'em."

     "But I was with them." Tara said. "Your brother, too."

     "My brother?" Daryl grunted — he hadn't thought about that time in a while. He'd been so preoccupied. "My brother ran the wrong way his whole life. If he were here, if I stuck with him when he left, we'd be with the Saviors, too, or some other group just like 'em. But I'd have figured out who they were just like you did."

     "Maybe that's what happened to Dwight." The girl shrugged.

     "Is that before or after he killed your girl? Or is that all square now?" Daryl almost snarled — it wasn't like he was close with Denise, but he always felt responsible for her death. The arrow was meant for him.

     "It is." She replied bluntly. "Look, I might hate him forever, but he saved my life."

     "No, he tried to kill you last night."

     "When we were in the woods, when we were coming here, I saw him try and help us win."

     "Yeah. I saw what I saw, too." It wasn't enough for Daryl to move on and pick daisies with Dwight — he'd killed Denise.

     "Look, Daryl—" Tara tried to say, but Daryl waved his hand dismissively.

      "I gotta get goin'." He said, as he turned around to leave.

     "No. Daryl. Wait!" Tara said loudly, reaching to grab his shoulder. "There's something I need to give to you."

     Daryl scowled as he turned around. "What?"

     Tara then pulled out a crumpled note from her pocket and unfolded it until it was about the size of a post it note. It had 'Daryl' written on the front, and the whole note was obviously written in a rush.

     "Where did you get this?" Daryl asked, almost snatching the note — he'd quickly recognised the writing and held it tightly in his hands.

      "I found it inside the arrow that Dwight shot at me. He must have written it and then planted it in there. Maybe he wants to tell us something?" She suggested.

     "No." Daryl smiled somewhat relieved as he read the small note. "This ain't from Dwight. This is Ophelia's handwriting."

He felt relieved to know that the girl was okay. Ever since he found out that she was being held captive in the sanctuary, all he wanted to do was storm in their all guns blazing and bring her — and his child — home. But, Rick had told him that, for the time being, it might actually be one of the safest places for her. So that plan may have been put on hold for now, but he felt relieved to know she was at least alive.

     "She's okay." Tara smiled. "Well, what does it say?"

     And suddenly the smile on Daryl's face fell as he read the scribbled note. It wasn't a note to say hello, it was a warning note. The saviours had raised the bar even higher — they were fighting dirty.

     "Where's Rick and Maggie?" He asked — ignoring her question.

      "Uh I — I don't know. I think—"

      "We gotta go and find 'em." He said, as he swiftly walked away. Tara followed him with her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

     "Why? What did it say?" She asked. "Daryl?"

Daryl sighed. "We're dead men walkin'."

❦❦❦

     Ophelia stormed through the sanctuary quickly, as she looked for Eugene. The saviours would be back anytime now, and she wanted to find him before they came back from their attack on the hilltop which had gone either horrendously wrong or horribly right — either way, she hoped that Daryl got her note.

     When she found Eugene in the factory, making bullets, she made sure that no one was near, before she walked up to him and pulled of his goggles.

     "We need to talk." She said, folding her arms over her chest.

     "Could I have my goggles back, please?" Was all he said in response. She ignored his question.

     "When we're done here."

     Eugene sighed — she was never going to cave in. "How can I be of service to you?"

     "Where do your loyalties lie?" She asked.

     "With the saviours." He replied, in a monotone voice.

     "No. Where do they really lie, Eugene?"

     "...uh...is this a trick question, mam?" The bulletmaker asked in confusion.

     "You're a good liar." She observed, running her teeth over her lips. "Well, you gotta be to trick Negan. I suppose no one really ever suspects a coward."

     Eugene blinked in confusion.

     "But, you're not a coward, are you, Eugene?"

     He opened his lips to reply, but he was swiftly cut of by Ophelia, who was speaking in a hushed whisper.

     "No. You used to be. And people still think you are. Which gives you an advantage. Because you can spew any bullshit and people will believe it."

     "Is there a point to this?"

     "The point is, that I know what you're up to, bulletmaker." She said with a smile flickering on her lips. "And whatever it is — I want in. Let me help you take these son of a bitches down."