Knife Edge [Daryl Dixon]

Chapter Twenty-One - One Still Strong Man (1/3)

One still strong man in a blatant land.
T.S. Eliot

The row of townhouses where Negan was kept reminded Rick, that while Alexandria was surrounded by trees, it was part of a city. During the day, the gardens outside the houses were a washed-out green, the sidewalk the color of brick dust, but at night everything was reduced to a monochrome where a weak moon struggled to shine through tissue-thin clouds. 

Rick's feet dragged though that was more to do with his destination than tiredness. Sometimes all roads ended with Negan.

That morning, they took the shell casings to the Sanctuary. Rick expected some sort of comment on the quantity but Eugene's jowls hung as heavy as his mood, and he went straight to talking timescales. It seemed Rosita's death had stilled his tongue. 

In deference to his grief, Rick skipped asking what Eugene needed to start producing ethanol, and went straight to Doug's murder, but Eugene opted to put it on the back-burner. Rather than stir everyone up, he preferred to celebrate the people who came home and mourn those who didn't. 

Rick disagreed, but didn't argue. The Sanctuary was Eugene's call, and he had more than enough to be getting on with in Alexandria. 

It took shape in his mind while Daryl drove home. 

He would square off the compound where possible and build guard towers at key points. Outside the fences, they needed clear lines of sight so no-one could sneak up on them, and within, they needed defensive lines for when the worst came to the worst. 

Daryl interrupted his musings on the approach road to Alexandria when he growled, 'No-one on the gate.'

In the flicker of a heartbeat, Rick's imaginings for Alexandria scattered to be replaced with reality. Daryl was right. The platform on the fence was empty and there was no-one on the ground.

His stomach churned while Tara and Aaron muttered in the back. One person could have reason to step away, but not two. Never two.

They did have reason though. It became clear when Daryl screeched through the gate. 

A steady stream of walkers was trickling out from behind the houses along the back wall and the Alexandrians were already fighting back. 

Bennett waved his arms from the window of his house. Nancy and Siddiq stabbed walkers from the stoop of the infirmary. The twelve people from the prison were sticking together in a cluster, knives raised but with no room to use them. Michonne's sword glinted red where it caught the sun on a downward stroke. 

Rick's hatchet was warm in his hand when he bounded from the Jeep. Daryl cocked and loaded his crossbow, taking down a walker that broke away from the throng around the infirmary and staggered to meet them, arms outstretched like a long-lost friend. 

A man in stained scrubs took its place, a black crescent bite deep in his chest. Rick split his head in a blow borne of rage and frustration, How did they get in? That fence was solid. He checked it himself the night before...

Gunshots resounded to his right. One, then another.

'Use your knives!' he turned to yell at whoever was shooting, but paused when he found himself shouting at air. It took another shot to ring out before he realized they were coming from further away. 

From behind the townhouses...

Rick and Michonne's eyes met. Were their worst fears coming true? Was someone here for Negan? As if to confirm it, another gunshot boomed.

'Just go!' she panted, gripping the handle of her sword, raising it for another swing.  

No time for anything else, Rick shouted, 'Tara. Aaron,' and started to run.