𝖣𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖪𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗌 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖬𝖾 | ᴅᴀʀʏʟ ᴅɪxᴏɴ ³

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴛᴡᴏ

«THE PLAN»

THE FIRES had appeared to be more detrimental than anticipated. Wave after wave, Walkers kept approaching. For twelve hours, the Alexandrians remained on high alert, constructing traps and defending their compound against the unending onslaught.

"They keep coming from the direction of the border," Aaron informed the group as they gathered atop the windmill building. "Just a constant wave after wave."

"This is her," Carol asserted.

"That psycho bitch knows no limits!" John hissed.

"You know your training," Michonne instructed them sternly. "Lock it down."

Alexandria was on lockdown, and the fearless fighters simultaneously guarded the gate, slashing and bashing any Walker that dared to approach. For forty-four hours straight, Chloe, Daryl, and their group fought without a break or any sleep.

"Go get some shut-eye," Daryl urged Chloe. "I'll watch yer back."

Chloe was utterly drained, and so was everyone else. Her mental faculties were faltering, her eyes pleading to shut, every muscle aching, but she pushed herself to persist.

"Chloe, just take a break, even if it's just for ten minutes," Tom advised, watching as she continued to dispatch Walkers with her knife from behind the fence. Her bow remained unused—she was too fatigued for precise aiming, and the limited arrows wouldn't suffice.

"No, we rest when the job's done."

"Face it, this won't ever end," John grumbled, delivering a forceful blow with his axe to another approaching Walker.

"Come on, Princess," Merle interjected, sweat dripping from his brow. "Can't kill these dead folks if yer runnin' on fumes."

Chloe glanced at the weary faces around her. Everyone was on the perks of collapse.

"You're on the verge of collapsing," Logan whispered tiredly.

"So are all of you," Chloe hissed, plunging her knife into another decaying skull.

She was way too stubborn for them to handle.

Luckily for them, it ceased after a few more hours.

"How long till the next wave hits?" Michonne inquired, directing her question to Eugene atop the wall, scanning the perimeter with his binoculars.

"One hour from the north, two from the south," Eugene responded. "The northern wave's thicker than fleas on a farm dog, but the southern's more dispersed. By my estimation, we'll be fighting into the night again."

Chloe sighed, mirroring John's exhaustion. In frustration, he threw his axe on the ground and stormed away.

"Yeah, can't push 'em too much further," Daryl whispered to Michonne.

"I have eyes," Michonne snapped, realizing her outburst. "Sorry. I'm just tired."

"We all are," Daryl acknowledged, nodding for Chloe to follow him. Just before they could walk away, Chloe spotted a masked person approaching—a woman.

Signalling for Daryl to follow her line of gaze, he alerted the group. "Hey, heads up."

With confused glances shared between the group, Michonne, Daryl, and Chloe moved to meet the woman, each carrying their weapon.

"The north border," the masked woman said upon their approach. "Now."

"Call off your walkers," Daryl demanded.