When the dead roam - (Daryl Dixon)

Chapter 114 - this is war

Darkness enveloped the Hilltop like heavy, suffocating blanket. It cast long, gut wrenching shadows that sent the communities hearts pounding against their chest. With little lighting, they were left with nothing but manmade lamps that blew out with even the smallest gust of wind - which did nothing to aid the knots that were already tightening in Lou's stomach.

If there was one thing Lou hated, it was the unknown and sitting in the darkness, waiting for their enemy to approach their home was enough to make her feel sick. Jesus sat to her right, a knife tucked into his boots and his gun in his hands. Despite his nerves, he never once shook.

"You okay?" He whispered. She nodded in response and adjusted her grip on her bow.

"I just want this over"

"It will be"

"Aaron still isn't back"

He looked towards his friend, knowing the fact that she was channelling all her anxiety into worrying about her friend rather than fixating on the fact that they might all be dead in less than thirty minutes. With a heavy, shaky sigh he tried his hardest to ease her tension.

"He'll be alright, Lou. He's a fighter you know that"

The archer cleared her throat. "He should be back by now"

"He's probably already on his way"

The sound of breaks and the glow of overly bright headlights cut their conversation short and their gazes shifted towards the front gates of the Hilltop, where the Saviours had arrived with more numbers than they would've thought possible. Simon stood proud, his lackey's following his every order as he directed them out of their vehicles. Maggie brought the radio to her mouth.

"Negan. I want to talk to Negan" she demanded, her voice firm. She radiated authority.

Through the radio, following a few seconds of static crackling, Simon's voice blared through. "You are speaking to Negan but my birth certificate says 'Simon'. With whom to I have the distinct displeasure of speaking?"

Lou fought the urge to rip the walkie from Maggie's hand and throw him a few choice words.

"Maggie. Maggie Rhee. The Widow"

"Well hello again, Widow Rhee. Allow me to express my condolences for what's happened and for what's about to happen. In case it's not already plain as Hilltop Potatoes, yours truly is speaking on behalf of Negan this go 'round" he said. "You and your people are gonna have to pay...quite dearly I'm afraid"

Maggie nodded towards Dianne, who began hauling the Saviour captives out from the building behind them and onto the guarded decking. "Your people are alive and breathing. Turn around and leave us be and they stay that way. But if you don't, I have bullets that I will personally fire into all of them"

She held the radio up towards a Saviour, Alden, who looked more scared to be facing the men he'd spent more time with than the fact that he was held prisoner. "It's too nice a night to spend it dyin' slow, don't you think Simon?"

"How's this gonna go?" She asked as she took it back.

They barely had to wait a second for his response.

"Well, Maggie Rhee, this is highly regrettable but the way I see it, the Saviours you're in possession of there are damaged goods" their faces dropped, each and every Saviour finally understanding their worth to one of their fearless leaders. "Y'know, they've gotten themselves into their own pickle and this organisation prizes those who A, avoid capture and B, figure out their own shit when said outcome eventuates. Which, in the end, is my way of saying screw them. Did you really think that cockamamie play would work?"