Catch Fire | Daryl Dixon

ACCUSATIONS

Kennedy's POV

The sun was barely up when Glenn and I set out for the bridge, our footsteps crunching on the gravel path as we made our way through the morning mist. Daryl had left even earlier, wanting to get a head start on whatever work needed to be done. I didn't mind the early start, though the quiet walk gave me too much time to think about everything that had happened over the last few days.

Glenn walked beside me, his eyes scanning the surroundings, ever vigilant. We hadn't spoken much since we left Hilltop, both of us lost in our thoughts, but there was a comfortable familiarity in the silence between us.

We were about halfway to the bridge when a small group of Saviors emerged from the trees, blocking our path. Their faces were hard, eyes narrowed with suspicion and hostility. I immediately knew this wasn't a friendly encounter.

"Morning," I said, my voice even, though I made no effort to hide my lack of warmth.

One of the Saviors, a wiry man with a sneer permanently etched into his face, stepped forward. "We're lookin' for our people. The ones that didn't come back," he said, his tone accusing.

I met his gaze, unflinching. "And you think I know where they are?" I replied, my voice flat. "I haven't seen them."

He took another step closer, his sneer deepening as he tried to loom over me, using his height to intimidate me. "You expect us to believe that? We're onto you."

I didn't flinch, didn't back down. Instead, I raised an eyebrow at him, my patience wearing thin. Glenn shifted beside me, his hand hovering near his gun, ready to pull it if things escalated. I could feel the tension crackling in the air between us.

"You're onto me, huh?" I said, sarcasm dripping from my words. "Well, here's a thought, maybe your people just don't want to come back. Ever think of that?"

The Savior's eyes narrowed even further, anger flashing in them. "We know you had something to do with it," he hissed, his voice low and threatening. "We're watchin' you."

I rolled my eyes, thoroughly unimpressed. "You're welcome to keep watching," I replied coolly. "But we've got work to do, so if you're done here..."

Without waiting for a response, I pushed past him, my shoulder brushing against his as I moved forward. Glenn followed immediately, his eyes flicking back to the Saviors as we walked away. I could feel the weight of their stares burning into our backs, but I didn't look back.

Once we had put some distance between ourselves and the Saviors, Glenn let out a breath he'd been holding. "You think that was a good idea?" he asked, his voice low, concern evident. "They're getting more hostile by the day, especially toward you."

I kept my eyes ahead, my mind already focused on the work waiting for us at the bridge. "I'm not worried about them," I said, though I knew it wasn't entirely true. "My concern is Hilltop. Keeping our people safe."

Glenn nodded, but his brow furrowed with worry. "That's important, but maybe you should focus a little more on your own safety too," he suggested. "You're putting a target on your back..."

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, the sound of rustling leaves and the low groan of a walker reached our ears. We both turned and there, stumbling onto the road, was Justin, except it wasn't Justin anymore. His skin was pale, his eyes milky and dead, and his movements jerky as he made his way toward us.

Glenn and I exchanged a glance, the unspoken understanding passing between us. There was no way this was an accident. Someone had made sure Justin wouldn't be a problem anymore, and now he was back as one of the dead.