A/N: I have been gone for a while. I'm sorry. There are things in my personal and professional life that take precedence.
I love Elena and Daryl, they were the first story I dared to publish anywhere for others to see, and the response I got was more than I expected. But their time is slowly coming to an end. I'm not gonna lie, that spark that filled me since the beginning of their story was dying slowly ever since Rick excited TWD and grew with each new episode. I still love Daryl and other characters, I still plan to go through the other ideas I recently presented, but they won't actually follow the show.
This is not the end. Not yet. But it's all planned and mostly written. I hope to go back to my early schedule of posting once a week.
I love you all and thank you for your continuous support!
Cheers :)
The remaining stretch of our journey wasn't inspiring. We discovered that one of the people stuck in that building was a doctor and a former obstetrician. Maggie and Glenn's smile was heartwarming, and surprisingly there was no ping in my gut or any other feeling of misery. Snuggled into Daryl's side with his hand gripping my thigh, I felt utterly at peace talking about babies and pregnancy.
Daryl mentioned it a few times in the past, but it seemed that it was finally the truth. I didn't need to bare his children to be a Dixon. We were a family, him, me, our gorgeous Lucy, his idiot brother, and maybe in the future even Mich? And then there was every other person that resided in Alexandria. A family.
Eventually, the RV came to a stop, and we all pooled out of it, glancing in the distance. The first thing we could see beside the greenery was a reasonably tall fence stretching quite far in both directions. It wasn't like Alexandria's. Made of wooden logs, tightly tied together, they varied in size and type but created an impenetrable wall. And of course, not everyone was due to think about it, but I could already see an issue with it. If anyone wanted to attack them, a simple fire would suffice.
This place was indeed its namesake - located on a slight ground elevation - it offered a good vantage point. The tree line was far enough to have a clear view of incoming threats, both undead and human. I also couldn't see any support beams, meaning they didn't make the same mistake as Deanna and placed them inside the community from the get-go.
Jesus let us on a small dirt path, and we halted when the voice sounded from on top of the wall.
"Stop right there."
It was an automatic response. We went through too much shit to not react that way, and in a split second every single one of us was pointing a gun at the two men. I would like to point out that the men had no weapon other than a spear.
"Ya gonna make us?" Daryl stepped forward, the rifle pressed tightly to his shoulder. I moved to stand next to Rick, my MP5 ready to fire.
"Jesus, what the hell is this?" One of the guards asked, and I wished to know as well.
"Open the gates, Cal. Freddie's hurt," His response was calm and straightforward. He shifted his body so he stood between Hilltop and us with both arms outstretched. Finally, he faced Rick and me, his bright eyes dancing between us. "Look, sorry about these guys. They get antsy standing up there all day doing nothing."
"They give up the weapons. Then we'll open the gates."
"Why don't ya come down here 'nd get 'em?"
Doctor Carson pushed forward, lightly touching Daryl's shoulder as he passed him. "Gentlemen, look, we vouch for these people, alright?" It was nice to hear that this stranger put himself on the line with his guys to verify our credibility. Or super stupid, I wasn't sure yet. "They saved us out there."
"Lower the spears," Jesus ordered through the clenched teeth.
"Look, I'm not taking any chances," Rick finally said, his gun lowered a little. "Tell your guy Gregory to come out here."
"No." Jesus turned to us, and I could see the annoyance on his usually cheerful face for the first time. "Don't you see what just happened? I'm letting you keep your guns. We run out of ammo months ago."
I shifted my eyes to his and saw only truth in them, making me slowly lower my gun. He was right. He was taking an incredible chance. If we wanted, we could easily take over, we had enough gun power on us, and they had none. If that wasn't a show of faith, then I don't know what else he could have done.
"Rick," I moved to Sherrif, keeping my voice low. "He's right. I mean, if they don't have any guns, we could easily wipe them out. But he's trusting us. And to be fair, if we would have a group of strangers approach our gates, we would act exactly the same."
Rick seemed to mull over my words for a moment, and when they finally sunk in, he motioned for others to lower their guns.
I whistled sharply. "Big Boy, put it down." I walked towards him and placed my hand on his shoulder, feeling him tense up for a split second.
"Ya sure, El?"
"For now, yeah."
Daryl huffed under his nose but pointed his rifle to the ground, still glaring at the two men on top of the wall. Slowly one by one, others also lowered their weapons, and after a long moment of strained silence, the gate was pulled open, showing us inside of the Hilltop.
It was drastically different than our own home. When you walked inside the Alexandria, the first thought was usually nostalgic, bringing back memories of life before the turn. With regular streets surrounded by family homes with green mowed lawns, no sign of deterioration or abandonment that's so natural in current times. With tall trees scattered around, people in clean clothes strolling down the street. Alexandria in itself was a small town occupied by survivors.
Hilltop, on the other hand, was a settlement. The only building that resembled a house, or a mansion rather, was placed on the top of the hill, a three-story red brick house that reminded me of the old plantation houses so popular in the south. But that was the only link to the past. The remainder of the area was full of trailers and small wooden booths. On the left, there was a cloud of smoke coming from one of them, followed by the cling that metal made while hit by metal.
They had a blacksmith. I could clearly hear the chatter of people, but the glances they were sending in our direction were full of fear and mistrust. The sounds of animals somewhere to the right confirmed Jesus' story even though I couldn't see them. It was clear that they were surviving and also that they had a smaller population than Alexandria.
"There was a materials yard for a power company nearby. That's how we put up the walls," Jesus interrupted my thoughts. He led our group on a small dirt path leading to the house, stopping when he realized our steps had slowed down. "A lot of people came from a FEMA camp. Trailers came with them."
"How did people find out about this place?" Katana asked, slowing her steps, grazing her fingers over the hilt of her sword.
"It's Barrington House, right?" I asked the man, still gazing at the large structure in front of us.
"How do you know?"
I glanced at him briefly, catching a glimpse of surprise in his eyes. "I lived and worked nearby before all the shit. My coworkers had kids, talked about it."
"Right. The family that owned it gave it to the state in the '30s. The state turned it into a living history museum. Every elementary school for 50 miles used to come here for field trips. The place was running a long time before the modern world built up around it. I think people came here because they figured it'd keep running after the modern world broke down." Jesus trailed off, and I saw him moving forward, pointing at the top floor. "Those windows up there let us see for miles in every direction. It's perfect for security. Come on. I'll show you inside."
Slowly in union, we moved after the man up the steps, and finally, he pushed the double entrance doors inwards, showing us the luxurious interior.
"Good gracious, Ignatius."
I snorted but couldn't disagree with Red's comment. It was truly like a mansion, with dark wooden furniture and floors, and a mahogany staircase leading up. The high ceiling heald crystal chandelier and less grand but definitely not less expensive versions sat mounted to the walls. In the middle, right in front of us, was a red Persian rug, swirling with shapes, matching the rest of the design. On top of it was a single round entryway table with a vase and presumably fresh flowers inside it. Paintings of various sizes covered almost every single wall as far as I could see, clearly expensive. There were no signs of damage, prior barricading, or anything indicating reinforcing of the house in the early stages.
I scrunched my nose at the view, the fact they spent so much time caring for the house - no specks of dust or dirt anywhere I could see - while the people outside lived in the trailers, smoldering in the heat during summer and freezing their asses off now during winter, didn't sit well with me. That's not how leadership worked, not in my books.
"Most of the rooms have been converted to living spaces. Even the ones that weren't bedrooms," Jesus explained further, facing us and lacing his fingers in front of him.
"People live here, and the trailers?" Rick inquired, his eyes catching mine for a moment. I was positive my displeasure was showing on my face by the way his brow rose for a brief moment.
"We plan to build. There are babies being born."
I was opening my mouth to comment on the place, to see how come the building seemed so upkeep when the doors behind Daryl opened. The man in a grey suit appeared, his cold blue eyes tracing our faces in a calculating manner.
"Jesus. You're back. With guests." It was a statement, yet his cocked brow indicated a question.
With a trim, tidily kept grey beard and grey hair combed to the back, he looked like a businessman of the world before. It's winter in here, his people work hard outside, despise the temperature and melting snow, hell, they live out there, while he basks in the warmth of the house, parading in a fucking suit? I bit my lip to stop myself from scoffing at him.
"Everyone, this is Gregory. He keeps the trains running on time around here," Jesus introduced the man politely; however, his face became a mask of a man who didn't want to give away too much.
"I'm the boss." The guy chuckled, sending us a full teeth smile, and all I could think of was how it would feel to knock them out of his smug face. Someone had to.
"Well, I'm Rick, and this is Elena," Rick spoke when it became clear I wouldn't and motioned at me.
I took a deep breath and stepped forward, placing my most charming smile on my face. "We have a community-- "
"Why don't y'all go get cleaned up, hmm?" I was interrupted before I could even get anywhere. I blinked a few times at him and felt a calming hand on my shoulder.
"We're fine," Rick's voice came from beside me, strained. The guy didn't listen, though, stepping closer to us, getting way too personal for my liking.
"Jesus will show you where you can get washed up. Then come back down here when you're ready. It's hard to keep this place clean." Gregory winked at me, my smile turning into the one my family knew, but for some reason, this stranger didn't recognize the danger behind it.
"That's very kind of you, thank you."
Jesus studied me for a moment before nodding and turning on his heel towards the stair. "Follow me."
Rick climbed the stairs first after Jesus, and I let Maggie pass before me. Clenching my fists tightly, I schooled my face into a constant polite smile while Rick whispered to the woman beside him.
"You clean up first. You talk to him."
Maggie snapped her face to him in confusion. "Why?"
"I shouldn't." Rick glanced over his shoulder at me with a slight smirk. "And neither should Eli. We're not planning on taking over. And you gotta start doing these things."
She slowed her steps, and her wide eyes moved toward me. My fake smile turned into a real one as I patted her shoulder lightly.
"You got this, Mags."
After Jesus showed us the bathrooms, where we could comfortably wash away grime and blood from our skin, I calmed down a little bit.
The same couldn't be said for Daryl, though. He didn't have to say a word for me to know that he was seething from the earlier interaction with Hilltop's leader. So was I, but we came here with a goal, and giving in to our anger wouldn't help us achieve it. The slow, deep kiss we shared once our hands were clean seemed to placate him a little, but the possessive way he tugged me with him back downstairs told me a different story.
"How long do you think Rick and Michonne been ugging bumplies?"
We were standing in front of the window. Me still, with narrow eyes watching people of this settlement working and busying themselves around. With a tight grip on my hip, Daryl tapped his foot on the floor impatiently. Red's question reminded us we were not alone, and I shifted away from the window to look at him properly.
"I dunno." In a typically Dixon move, Daryl shrugged his shoulders, disinterested in the subject. I, on the other hand, was very interested.
"As far as I know, it just happened," I told him, wiggling my brows. He gave a small chuckle, but his face became serious again in seconds.
"You ever think about it? Settling down?"
I snorted, exchanging an amused look with Daryl, over my shoulder. "Dude, you were literally there when we got hitched. And you had enough time to get to know us. This is as settled as we go."
"Right, right." Abraham shook his head, and his fingers went to the small pendant handing off his neck, making me furrow my brow. He caught my gaze and, with a detached smile, pushed it down under his t-shirt. With a sharp nod, Red left the house, leaving both Daryl and I dumbfounded.
"That was even more weird than usual, right?" I asked, not actually expecting an answer.
"What was weird?" The steps behind made me spin on my heel, and I smiled at Glenn and Rick. Both washed away the dirt from their faces, but they didn't bother with shoes or the rest of the clothes. Neither of us did. This Gregory dude wanted to talk to us? Then he would get us as we come.
"Abe, even weirder than usual." I was not allowed to continue as doors to the office opened harshly, just to slam loudly behind Maggie, who - judging by her reddened face and clenched jaw - was furious. Better her than me; her fury didn't equal murderous instincts.
"You OK?" Glenn was beside her in seconds, hands slowly caressing her shoulders, and I watched, amazed as the tension left her with each small touch.
Her bright eyes snapped to me, and she huffed. "Next time you're going."
"That bad, huh?" I cocked my brow, coming closer, barely registering Daryl shouting for Abe to come back.
"Understatement of a year. I haven't met such a megalomaniac in a very long time." Her eyes averted to Rick, and she sighed heavily, shaking her head. "He ain't gonna give us anything. He's not interested in any kind of trade with us."
"Well, tickle me surprised," Red drawled mockingly, standing behind Maggie with his arms crossed over his chest.
"We want to generate trade," Jesus appeared back in a grand hallway, his hair freshly brushed and in clean clothes. He looked apologetic with a tiny sad smile on his lips. "Gregory does. But ammo isn't something we urgently need."
"Well, how's that?" Rick enquired, and the rest of us spilled into the room. Michonne took a seat on the other side of the solid victorian table beside the far wall.
"The walls hold. We just brought in more medicine. Gregory wants the best deal possible." Jesus tried to explain, making me smack my lips together.
"Yeah, well, we want things, too," Daryl grunted, and I patted his shoulder gently, hoping to stop his pacing. My eyes went back to Jesus and Rick.
"We need food. We came all this way; we're gonna get it," Sheriff stated. Were we ready for that kind of play? Probably not, but even with the truck we found yesterday, supplies were limited and would last us so long.
I wasn't sure if Jesus caught the whole meaning of Rick's words, but he studied him for a while before replying carefully. "I will talk to him, and we will work this out. Circumstances change. We're doing well now, and you will next. I will make him understand that. Can you give me a few days?"
The last question was directed at me, making me scoff. "To trade is to make an exchange for another commodity," I told him firmly, looking him right in the eye. "Like you said, you might be in a better position regarding supplies now, but do you know how to survive without them? You said so yourself. You don't have many fighters. The exchange doesn't have to be with goods. We have skills which you're lacking. Can you make him understand that?"
Jesus stared at me blankly until finally, a big grin spread over his face. "I can see why you're still alive. Yeah, I can make him understand. Can you wait?"
"We can," Michonne answered in my stead, nodding in my direction and sending a stern glare towards Rick, who sighed heavily.
"Yeah."
There was no celebration of a new friendship or a drink at the end of a successful deal. Jesus managed to chuckle and clap his hands, ready to go speak with Gregory, when the main door slammed open, and a short guy entered, his breaths shallow.
"What's wrong?" Jesus asked immediately, stepping closer to the newcomer, worry creeping up on his face.
"They're back." That was all the answer, short to the point, leaving our group in the dark, but whatever it meant didn't seem good. Jesus ran inside the office, coming out shortly with Gregory.
Unsure what was happening, with a slight shrug at the confused faces of my family, we followed behind the three men outside. Gregory led the way, puffing out his chest when he walked head-on towards the three strangers. Gate was being shut, and three people who had obviously just come through looked tired. With sweat covering them, even in the cold air of Virginia, the woman had a stern expression on her face, but the first guy made my spine tingle in unease.
With looks like a Viking, hair brushed away from his face into a bun, and a big beard covering his face, he definitely could have been mistaken for one. All he needed was armor and a sword. I stifled a chuckle at the thought and listened to the men exchanging words.
"Nathan, what happened to everybody else? Where's Tim and Marsha?" Gregory asked the Viking, who looked the leader dead in the eyes before sneering, "They're dead."
"Negan?"
"Yeah."
My brows rose, and a flashback to the cold night filled with walkers and smoke came to the front of my mind. I searched Daryl with my eyes, and his deep, expressive gaze was already on me. It seems that anywhere we go, that name is being mentioned. Maybe finally, we stumbled into a place with answers.
"We had a deal," Gregory huffed, but it sounded more like a whine to me. He didn't even look overly concerned at the loss of two of his men.
"He said it wasn't enough," The second man piped in. "Was the drop light?"
"No," The leader replied slowly, and I didn't even have to see his face to suspect that he was lying, avoiding.
"They still have Craig," Viking continued, stepping closer to Gregory. My stomach clenched, and my race sped up. "They said they'd keep him alive, return him to us if I deliver a message to you."
Gregory chuckled, spreading his hands just to place them over his hips. "So, tell me."
Viking placed one large hand over the other man's shoulder, his brows furrowing for a moment. "I'm sorry."
There was no other warning when Viking sunk a knife deep into Gregory's gut with his other hand. My eyes widened, and I followed Rick and Michonne, who pulled Viking away from the injured man.
"Get off of me! I had to!"
Everything was a bit of a blur after that. Michonne was shook off the large man and shoved to the side, while Rick managed to knock him to the floor with a solid punch to the face. I rushed to the Katana, helping her up, glancing around just to see that the other man tried to attack as well and was rolling on the ground, exchanging punches with Red.
Abe was on his back in mere seconds, with the smaller man's hands around his neck. I reached them at the same time Daryl did, and while he pulled at one of the man's hands, I brought my elbow to the man's back, knocking him out. That, along with Dixon's pulling, resulted in a cringing cracking noise, and I only hoped it was a man's wrist, nothing else.
"Hey!" Glenn's shout pulled my attention back to Rick, and I spun around, pulling out my Glock. Sherrif was on the ground, with the Viking on top of him, a knife pressed tightly to Rick's throat. I gritted my teeth, but the second I made a move, wild eyes snapped to me, and I saw him pushing his hand deeper into soft skin.
"Stay back! Anybody who tries to stop me is killing my brother!"
Luckily for us, there was another person in all this commotion who was not spotted by the guy. Michonne crept behind him, hand on the handle of her sword but not yet drawn. "Drop it," Her voice was low, menacing, enough to divert his attention for a split second. A split second that Rick needed to sink his own knife into the man's neck.
Clearly punctuating an artery, the sheriff was immediately soaked in crimson blood, and with a huff, he pushed the dead man aside. I swallowed harshly. As far as the first impressions go, we were doing an outstanding job.
Slowly, Rick stood up, lifting his face to see the stunned and fearful looks of Hilltop's citizens. "What?"
"Nathan! You kill him," The man I put to the ground twisted to his stomach, clenching his injured hand, screaming at Rick.
"He tried to kill Gregory, then me."
It was the woman, though, so far silent, who made me raise my brows. She charged at Rick in one swift motion and punched him in the jaw, hard enough that he dropped down to his knee.
"Ah! Don't." Katana stopped the other woman swiftly, with a simple push landed her on her back, leaving her to cry on the ground.
"Drop it now!" The guards came around, slowly circling us, pointing their spears in our direction, but mainly at Rick. As always, Daryl tried to be my life's hero, moving in front of me to protect me with his body. I rolled my eyes, putting my gun away.
"I don't think I will," Rick sneered, and at this moment, he resembled crazy Rick, the one from the prison, the one who wanted to go back for every single person in Terminus.
"Everyone, this is over!" Jesus yelled, running in our direction, placing himself between Hilltop's guards and Rick. "It's over."
He sighed heavily, running a hand over his face, addressing his group. "Nathan was our friend, but let's not pretend he was anything more than a coward who attacked us. He did this. And these people stopped him."
I stepped around Daryl, gripping his wrist lightly and pushing his gun down. He aimed at the injured man as a precaution, but Jesus was right. It's over. They are either going to be grateful that we saved their leader, and we might strike a deal, or we will leave, forget about each other and move on with our lives as if nothing happened.
"What can I do?" Rick asked, still aiming at the guards above Jesus' shoulder.
"Put the gun away. You've done enough." It might have sounded bitter if it came from anyone else, but from Jesus it was only a sad truth. "You need to know that things aren't as simple as they might seem. Just give me some time."
Rick tilted his head and shook it slightly, eventually putting his Python back into the holster. I moved towards him and nodded at Daryl to check on Red, who was still on the ground. I patted Rick on his shoulder cocking my brow.
"Great first impressions. Couldn't do it better myself, officer."
We stepped back inside the Barrington House, Gregory being carried by Jesus, Daryl, and two other guys from Hilltop. They disappeared into the office, which apparently connected with Gregory's bedroom, followed quickly by Dr. Carson.
I wasn't sure at that point how much time had passed, how long we stood there, but I know that Rick managed to clean his face and neck from the blood, and Michonne cleaned his knuckles with clean water at some point.
Silently, I moved next to Maggie, who stood by the window, looking at the image of a woman crying and shaking over the body of a Viking. Maggie circled her arms around her stomach and tensed for a split second when I joined her.
"When did we become this?" Her question was quiet, enough for me to hear but not for others. I tilted my head, my stomach clenching at the view outside.
"Somewhere between Governor and Wolves would be my best guess," I told her calmly, a simple fact. There was no denying that we changed along with the world around us. There were no rules, no laws anymore. The only reason we could still distinguish ourselves from animals were traces of morals that we had left. At least some of us.
"How much more blood do we have to spill to live in peace?" She rubbed her still flat stomach in a clear protectiveness.
Licking my suddenly dry lips, I answered, my voice soft. "I spoke to Carol today."
Maggie's gaze moved to me, her face clearly asking for confirmation, and I chuckled bitterly, nodding. "Yeah. Didn't go so well. Something clearly bothers her, and I think it's because of what she did during the Wolves' attack. She basically told me to mind my own business and look at my own ledger." I sighed heavily, smiling sadly at the woman beside me. "Since the beginning, I killed 37 people."
Her gasp made me avert my eyes to the window, and my skin burned when she hesitantly placed her hand over mine. "Eli..."
"Don't," I stopped her softly. "She's right. I have no right to prod her for answers. But she doesn't realize that I simply offered a way to unload that burden, to share it. In a few years, the knowledge will remain with her, but faces will blur together and eventually fade. I'll always remember every single face that died because of me."
I inhaled sharply, blinking away the tears. "But it's about why we do it. We don't do it for fun like Wolves did. Neither for food, like Termites, nor from pride and narcissism like Governor did. We do it to protect each other. I remember every single face and can link it with the moment threatening our safety. That's why I can sleep at night."
"Would you kill him?" Her voice was calculated, and she dropped her hand back to her stomach.
"Probably. I'd try to barter first, but the sad truth is... Gregory is a dick, yet he is a leader of this community. We had heard of Negan before. They ambushed us once, and they threatened to kill one of us. So Gregory might be an idiot, but better an idiot than an unknown murderer. Who's to say that he wouldn't find us through this guy." I nudged my head forward, indicating the corpse that layed in the grass outside.
"That doesn't make it easier. The why."
I shifted and reached out, sending her a questioning look. Once I had her approval, I gently placed my hand over her's on her stomach. "No, it doesn't. Merle once said that the world needs people like him and me. People willing to do the dirty job. He's not wrong. As long as you're not scared of me, as long as you know I wouldn't hurt you, and that all I'm doing is for the good of our family, then I can live with it."
"You know what Rick will want to do," Maggie commented hushedly, glancing toward the sheriff. Nodding softly, I bit down on my lip.
"Yeah. I'm going to talk to him about it."
Doors to the office opened, revealing tired Jesus. "Dr. Carson was able to patch Gregory up. He's in pain, but he'll live."
"So, what happens now?" Katana asked from her seat.
Jesus gazed around the room, sighing heavily. "Things like that don't usually happen here, but, uh, it's settled."
"We heard the name Negan," Rick reminded, pushing himself away from the desk, standing tall. "A while back, Daryl and Abraham had a run-in with his men. So did Elena. Who is he?"
"Negan's the head of a group of people he calls the Saviors," Jesus explained reluctantly. "As soon as the walls were built, the Saviors showed up. They met with Gregory on behalf of their boss. They made a lot of demands and even more threats. And he killed one of us-- Rory. He was 16 years old." My fist clenched tightly, and I looked at Maggie. She nodded, a sorrowful look gracing her features. "They beat him to death right in front of us. Said we needed to understand right off the bat. Gregory's not exactly good at confrontation. He's not the leader I would've chosen, but he helped make this place what it is and the people like him."
"He made the deal," Maggie summed it up quietly.
"Half of everything," Jesus confirmed, making me scoff and shake my head. "Our supplies, our crops, our livestock, it goes to the Saviors."
"And what do you get in return?" Glenn asked, crossing his arms across his chest.
"They don't attack this place. They don't kill us."
"Why not just kill them?" Daryl asked as if that was the most natural course of action in the world. I cocked my brow at him, but he just shrugged.
"You saw us. Most of the people here don't even know how to fight, even if we had ammo."
"Well, how many people does Negan have?" Rick asked the question that was bothering me as well. I remembered the papers I found in the tall office building right after leading the herd away, trying to calculate space in my head.
"We don't know. We've seen groups as big as 20."
"Now, hold up." Daryl rose his hand, pacing and then stopping to look at Jesus. "So, they show up, they kill a kid, and ya give them half of everythin'? These dicks just got a good story. The bogeyman, he ain't shit."
"Well, how do you know?"
"A month ago, we took his guys out PDQ. Left them in pieces and puddles. You know, we'll do it." I grinned at his assertiveness and dedication, tilting my head, interested to hear what he was thinking. "If we go get yur man back, kill Negan, take out his boys, will ya hook us up? We want food, medicine, and one of the cows."
Jesus' eyes widened, and I tried. I tried really hard not to laugh, but a small snort escaped my lips before I pressed them tightly together. Daryl's bartering was brisk and bold, I wasn't even sure where the hell we would put a cow, but I couldn't deny that he had a point. Jesus looked at me in question, and I shrugged my shoulders.
"We were out there for a long time."
"Confrontation's never been something we've had trouble with," Rick added.
"I'll take it to Gregory."
As much as I enjoyed all those negotiations, I couldn't help a tinkle of doubt that pooled at the bottom of my stomach. Were we taking on too much?
Rick took Katana, Maggie, and Glenn to the porch to discuss the details, but I shook my head when he motioned at me. I really had to think this over.
Were we over our head? I feared that our actions may lead to another war, but this time we didn't have all the information, we didn't have the inside man, and we didn't have a location. All we had was a name and an estimate of numbers. My eyes snapped open, realizing what Jesus said. Groups of 20. Plural.
I spun around and went to one of the wooden tables in the hallway, opening the thin drawer. I knew that others looked at me like I was crazy, and then I smacked myself in the forehead, crossing the room to my backpack. From the side pocket, I fished out a well-used small notebook, flipping it to the back page.
Papers from the office; dude from the run group; Jesus - how many groups, different? Check locations on the map.
A firm grip on my shoulder made me spin on my haunches, my heart racing. My shoulders sagged, realizing that it was just Daryl with a curious look and a small smirk on his face.
"Whatcha thinkin', El?"
Taking a deep breath, I glanced briefly at the closed doors. "We might have taken on more than we can chew on."