You know that phrase “speaking of the devil”?
I’m almost inclined to believe it was created purely for this exact moment. We’d been talking about him little more than a day ago. It was almost like Fate itself had looked at us, snorted a cackling laugh, and said, “Fuck you guys in particular.”
There was a rush of movement around me as those of us left scrambled to find their positions. It had been so long since any of us had run any kind of defensive drill that it likely hadn’t looked all that impressive, never mind the fact we were currently at half our usual numbers – if that.
Maggie ran past Daryl and I, handing over a rifle and old sniper, respectively, before taking a post by the fence with her own rifle that had been strapped to her back.
“Come on down!” Phil’s voice echoed from the base of the hill, cutting through my consciousness like a blade.
I felt myself stiffen, Daryl pressing in closer beside me.
Tensions began to rise in the air like a physical pressure.
“We need to talk!”
Rick steadily approached the courtyard fence, lips drawn down into a deeply troubled frown. I could tell he was on edge by the way he kept moving slightly side to side, keeping his bright eyes fixed on the man calling for him down below.
“It’s not up to me!” Rick eventually called back. “There’s a council now! They run this place.”
There was a beat of silence before I saw Rick take a slight step back in surprise.
“Is Hershel on the council?” Phil asked. “What about Michonne? She on the council, too?”
My shoulders clenched and forcibly unclenched. Slowly, I rose and peeked up over the edge of the pallet, peering through the scope of my rifle at the reality of what lay beyond our fences.
My heart froze in my chest when I saw the white hair. His expression was calm despite the situation, which was so on brand with Hershel’s wise-old-farmer persona, it would have brought a smile to my face had I not already been all but consumed by anger.
Beside him, contrasting quite starkly against his calm demeanour, was Michonne. Her face was contorted into a twisted snarl of rage as she stared angrily down at the grass by the base of the perimeter fence she knelt before.
Her back was bare, absent the blade that usually adorned it.
The twisted cotton handle of her iconic sword was clutched loosely in Phil’s hand as he hovered above them both. He was a picture of arrogant serenity – the kind of confident calmness that came from being the one in a fight that had the fucking tank.
Yeah. You read that right.
A tank.
A fucking tank.
The man that had proclaimed himself “the Governor”, who had presided over an entire community with one face turned toward them, and another turned away, who had gunned down his own people in a moment of anger…
That was the guy with the tank.
“Is my Syn on that council, too?” Phil called out. “I know she’s up there, Rick. And I know her well enough to bet she’s pointing a gun at me right about now. You’d best tell her to lower it.”
YOU ARE READING
The Monsters Among Us ➳ Daryl Dixon
Fanfiction𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘭 𝘋𝘪𝘹𝘰𝘯/𝘖𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘍𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 Not human. She was not human. They all knew it. Could almost feel it, but couldn't make sense of it. That was why they were afraid. Not because of what she used to be Before. But...
