The Third Dixon [The walking dead]

Chapter eleven

The fire crackled low in the center of the camp, the smell of cooked meat drifting through the cool evening air. No one was really hungry. They ate anyway, more out of habit than need, eyes flicking again and again toward the barn.

Lori broke the silence first.

"So," she said carefully, folding her arms. "What are we gonna do? We'd all feel better if we knew the plan."

Rick stood near Shane, both of them staring past the fire as if the answer might be written in the dark. Neither spoke.

Andrea tilted her head. "Is there a plan?"

Glenn turned the piece of chicken in the pan, grease popping softly. "We gonna keep him here?" he asked, not looking up.

No one answered.

Measi leaned against Nathan's side, her shoulder tucked beneath his arm. She could feel his tension, the way his muscles stayed tight even while he tried to look calm. Her eyes never left the barn doors. She knew Daryl wouldn't take long—but whatever came out with him would change everything.

"We'll know soon enough," she murmured. "Here comes Daryl."

The barn door creaked open.

Daryl stepped out, wiping his hands on his jeans. Blood smeared across his knuckles, already darkening. Measi straightened instantly, slipping out from under Nathan's arm before she could stop herself.

All eyes went to him.

"Boy in there's got a gang," Daryl said flatly. "Thirty men. Heavy artillery. And they ain't lookin' to make friends."

The fire popped.

"If they roll through here," he continued, gaze flicking briefly to Measi before sliding away, "our boys are dead. And our women..." He trailed off, jaw tightening. "They're gonna wish they were."

Measi pressed her lips together. "Well," she said dryly, though her stomach twisted, "that is lovely. Real great."

Carol's eyes dropped to his hands. "What did you do?" she asked softly.

Measi shook her head before Daryl even answered.

"Had a little chat," he said.

Rick stepped forward immediately. "No one goes near this guy," he ordered. "No one."

Nathan's arm came back around Measi's shoulders, firmer this time. She didn't pull away.

"Rick," Lori said, her voice tight. "What are you gonna do?"

Rick didn't hesitate. "We have no choice. He's a threat." He looked around the circle, meeting each pair of eyes in turn. "We have to eliminate the threat."

Dale's face fell. "You're just gonna kill him?"

"It's settled," Rick said. "I'll do it today."

He turned and walked away.

Dale followed immediately, his long strides quick with urgency.

For a moment, no one moved.

Measi glanced at Daryl, really looked at him now—the exhaustion, the anger, the weight he carried like it was carved into his bones. He met her eyes briefly. They didn't need words.

They already knew where they stood.

And whatever was coming next, it wasn't going to be clean.

Measi pushed the tent flap open, the sun cutting through the canvas in harsh stripes. She was thirsty, ready for a quiet moment with her water, but the second she stepped inside, her stomach tightened.