Daryl's Angel (10th Anniversary Edition)

Chapter 58: Too Far Gone

Hi, God. It's me again. Listen, I know you helped us before, but if you could keep that strength and courage going, that would be great.

The Governor stands atop his tank. It can't be anyone else but him, but I keep waiting to wake up. I fell asleep, safe on my bed, and my brain has decided to give me the most fucked up nightmare it could think of.

"It's not up to me!" Rick shouts. "There's a council now! They run this place."

"Is Hershel on the council?" the Governor calls.

He motions to someone nearby who moves to the nearest truck and hauls Hershel from the back of it. Maggie and Beth gasp, Maggie clapping a hand over her mouth.

"What about Michonne? She on the council, too?"

Another soldier brings Michonne out from the back of the car. They're both bound, arms tied behind their backs, and the soliders force them to their knees in front of the tank.

"I don't make decisions anymore!"

"You're making the decisions today, Rick. Come down here. Let's have that talk."

Rick doesn't move. None of us do. It's like we can't look away. Beth and Maggie hold hands, knuckles white, faces pale. Rick looks to Daryl and he gives a barely perceptible shake of his head. Rick nods back and turns to Carl, reaching out to grip his shoulder.

"We can do this," he whispers. "Alright?"

Carl just nods.

Rick pulls the gate open and starts the long walk down to the fences. Daryl steps back, coming closer to me, Sasha, and Tyreese.

"We can't take 'em all on," he says. "We'll go through the admin building, through the woods like we planned. We ain't got the numbers no more." His gaze shifts from us to the army at our doors. "When's the last time someone checked the stash on the bus?"

"Day before we hit the Big Spot," Sasha answers. "We were running low on rations then. We're lower now."

"Yeah, we'll manage. Things go south, everyone heads for that bus. Let everybody know."

"What if everybody doesn't know when things go bad? How long do we wait?" Tyreese asks.

"As long as we can."

Daryl walks off and I share a brief look with Sasha and Tyreese. Rick has reached the fence. At this distance, I can only faintly hear their voices and no concrete words. I stay rooted in place, heart pounding, praying harder than I ever have before.

Sasha backs up, then disappears back inside to alert the others to what's happening. I hear the gentle rattling of roller wheels and look over to see Daryl slowly making his way over with one of our repurposed prison laundry tubs—only, instead of laundry, we keep the guns in them.

He takes a handgun and an automatic rifle from the bin and hands it off to Bob. He grabs two more, pressing one into Maggie's hands, the other into Beth's. Down the line he goes, making sure everyone has a weapon.

He reaches me last, handing me a hunting rifle. No automatic, no rapid-fire, just a scope and bullets, and I feel my nausea return.

"Daryl—" I start.

"Just in case. Please," he breathes.

I swallow hard and take the rifle. I feel small, weak in the face of their fire power, and I pray that Rick's words can soften the Governor's cold heart.

We situate ourselves along the fence, muzzles pointing through the chain link. I stay close to Daryl, my palms sweaty against the rifle's smooth surface, even as I peer through the scope at our enemies.