Chapter Text
The problem with keeping their surroundings mostly clear of walkers was that it took away one of the more obvious layers of protection against invaders. If there were more walkers, maybe the intruders wouldn’t have made it all the way to the sheriff’s compound.
Tim’s feelings of foreboding from the night before were proven valid when Merle came in the bunk room early the next morning to quietly wake them.
“Must’ve had one of ‘em followin’ you all back here,” he heard the man whisper up to his brother. Daryl had taken the top bunk above Franklin and conveniently right next to Tim’s own bed. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and silently listened in to the new information.
“There were no lights after we got rid of the ones that got too close,” Daryl murmured back, still waking up himself, but becoming more aware as he sat up and swung his legs over the side.
Merle passed a mug of coffee over to him with a hum, and then surprised Tim when he held one out for him as well. “Might as well get up, shooter,” Merle smiled over at the man still huddled under the blanket. “Take the coffee. We need both of you up and ready.”
The strangers were at the gates. Well, not really. They were parked a little ways down the street, behind a small bit of tree cover. It was stupid of them to think they wouldn’t be noticed. Or maybe they didn’t care.
Kyle had stayed on post the night before, and he’d caught the movement in the shadows. But hadn’t been able to tell how many there were until the sun came up. There were a lot, as it turned out.
Tim and Daryl had left Dr. Foster in the bunk room to monitor Franklin, but the rest of the crews were already up and about in the main area. Michonne and Glenn had gone out to the containers to relieve Kyle, and everyone turned to the young man as he walked in the door.
He didn’t take a seat, but he did thank Merle for grabbing him a mug for his own coffee, both to warm up and stay awake. Seeing the expectant look on their faces he let them know that the group was in the double digits, closer to thirty than not. They had several trucks that looked like land rovers and the five bikes Tim had seen the night before. And all of them were carrying rifles.
They had known it was a possibility that the group would follow them through the night. It was the main reason Glenn had suggested the compound in town instead of the farm. They may be outnumbered here, but not really.
Back-up from the farm could easily flank the strangers without them knowing. That was the benefit in clearing the surrounding town of walkers. There’d be less chance of danger from them as the support teams moved into place.
And Merle had already made the call. As soon as Kyle had pointed out the movement to him the night before, Merle had called into the armory to let them know their fears had turned into reality.
He kept them updated on the growing numbers throughout the early morning hours. After it seemed like their entire group arrived, Abe and Rosita had been called in to monitor the far end of the street they’d come in on and lay down spike strips to cripple any vehicles that might try to turn back.
It might seem like overkill, and to be fair, no one from this new group had fired at them back on the road. But the original core group had been through more skirmishes than they cared to recall. Giving an out to a group that had chased them as aggressively as this one had was not in the cards.
It was an interesting mixture of mentalities this time around. Interesting, because the mindsets existed side by side in the same brain. They were always hopeful to find survivors and more than willing to bring them into the farm for safety. But they were also more than willing to put down a human who was a threat to their survival.
Second chances had bit them in the ass before. Sure, some were deserving of it, but sometimes the what-if was too great of a risk. And sometimes the person who had made themselves a threat to humanity had to be excised like a bad tumor.
How long could they have survived before if they’d just come to that realization sooner? If Rick had just taken the Governor out in that barn… If they’d shot Dawn in that hallway instead of trying to bargain… How many more could’ve survived?
Daryl and Rick had discussed the what-ifs with Merle recently over a shared dinner at the cabin. They knew in their heart when they were looking at evil and when they weren’t. Guillermo, for all he’d drawn guns on them, hadn’t been evil. They knew that. But Daryl had known from minute-one that Randall had been a jackal. He’d known as soon as Otis hadn’t returned with the man, that Shane had become more of a danger to the group than not.
Sometimes, their chances of survival couldn’t rest on the philosophy of ‘lets just wait and see.’
Whatever this new group wanted, no one was holding their breath that it was going to be a friendly meeting. They’d chased their trucks on the road like they were in a bad remake of Mad Max. This might be the apocalypse and all, but there was no reason for that.
The farm and its occupants were proof of that. People surviving in this world had every reason to want to preserve life. It just never made sense to them, especially people like Dale and Paul, who wanted to believe people could be saved. It never made any sense that some people were happy with the way things turned out. Living in the structured society from before, with things like civilization, and laws, and big government, a person couldn’t really go off their rocker and take over a city with guns and killing.
But they’d all seen it happen time and time again in this reality. They’d seen how a person could be so tyrannical and blood-thirsty, and just declare themselves the leader. And then slaughter anyone who disagreed.
So, no. They weren’t going to try and save those people. They weren’t going to bring them into the farm.
“This is Crowe,” the group heard from the quick crackle of the radio. “We have cover on the four corners.”
This was the first time they’d had to settle a situation like this. No one else had come into their territory looking for a fight. Hell, no one else had come into their territory period.
It took more bodies away from the farm, but they had planned for this. Four-man teams were dispatched to the four points around the sheriff’s compound, including the street where the new group sat. Fully armed, and ready to support a firefight if it came to that.
They had left Hershel, Maggie and Anders to oversee the farm’s security. There was no reason to believe the group knew about the farm. But despite the large numbers in town, there could be another faction coming for them there. There was just no way to know their actual size.
Daryl knew Rick was out there. Just like Tim knew Raylan wouldn’t have stayed behind for something like this. While it felt good to know that the men supporting them were trained and ready, they both had families back home that couldn’t take that kind of loss.
That being said, they liked their chances. Even with the big numbers they were facing. They weren’t about to be over-confident in their abilities. But they had a good understanding of their skills, and they were in a pretty defensible position.
“Tim,” Michonne called in from her container position. “Can you get a good shot of the street from the building?”
The man in question already had his sniper rifle on his back and leaned over the table to grab the radio. “I’ve got Sasha with me, we’re on it.”
He led her to the ladder on the second floor that would give them access to the roof and set them both up in good spots to see the street below. He gave Sasha the most direct line of sight to the gate, and took a corner for himself that was a little blocked by the tree canopy, but still in his wheelhouse for a good shot of the group.
It took another half an hour for the invaders to send out an emissary. A young man that clearly needed a bath and a good scrub down to get rid of the ridiculous amount of dirt covering his face and greasy hair. He was flanked by two more men that looked like a cross between linebacker and slovenly pigs.
This group clearly wasn’t hurting for food.
“Hi,” the new man called up to Michonne and Glenn, with far more cheer than should. “I’m Mark.” He gestured to the men on either side of him and added “These are my friends. We’ve been on the road for a while, haven’t had much luck in fining food lately. You got any you might be willing to spare?”
Despite the man’s sunny disposition, there was just something wrong with him. By some unspoken agreement, they both kept quiet, and no one from their group came on the radio. Though they were sure everyone was watching. Neither Michonne nor Glenn could put their finger on it exactly, but something was just off.
The men standing next to him were a bit of a dead giveaway. Both of them looked like they were trying a bit too hard to appear intimidating. Mark should really have a talk with them if he was hoping to come off as harmless.
But the man himself lit up all those areas in their brains that said this was not a friend. “We’d be willing to work for it,” he offered, squinting up at them a little. When that got no response, he chuckled a little and asked, “Are you guys the welcoming committee? My friends and I aren’t feeling too welcome.”
Glenn waited a few more moments then broke the silence. “You’re not. We don’t have much food, and we don’t have any to spare. We’ll give you five minutes to get back in your trucks and leave.”
And that was it. Glenn had thrown down an ultimatum for the men. Once those five minutes were up, they would have to act, or this new group would think them weak. They would try and push their way in. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
What Glenn didn’t know about at that time, was the spike strips. He didn’t know that the farm had already made the call; these men weren’t leaving. Not alive at least.
“Well now, I don’t know if that’s gonna work, see.” Mark had kept his cheery tone, but there was something else in there now. Arrogance, Glenn decided. Even with guns pointed at him and his friends, this guy still thought he had the upper hand. “We lost a couple of our friends the other night. I think they might be in there with you.”
“We don’t take in strangers,” Michonne threw in.
Mark nodded back up at her, and kept a cheesy smile on his face. “But surely you wouldn’t mind me coming in just to check, would you?”
He started to walk forward a couple steps when a bullet from Sasha’s rifle hit the ground at his feet. Another shot stopped the men still back at the trucks when they began moving after the first crack.
“That’s four minutes now,” Michonne said in place of a reply. “You should really think about heading out soon. That sounds likely to draw in some walkers.” She knew it wouldn’t, there were no walkers in town. But these men didn’t know that.
“Glenn,” Daryl called in from somewhere inside the building. Where exactly, he didn’t know. But he had no doubt the man could hear what he’d said. It was funny how sounds carried now that there weren’t so many people around. No cars, no music, even the animals that were left were quieter in town.
“Yeah?” he asked back.
“Ask him where he got that scarf.” It was such an od request from Daryl that Glenn scrunched his face up in confusion.
“What?” Glenn hissed back. “How is that important?”
If he was going to do as Daryl asked, he missed his window. Mark and his friends were walking back to their trucks without another word to Glenn or Michonne.
Tim watched what he could through the trees, and it looked like there was some type of discussion happening, but there were patches of leaves hiding a lot of the details. He was, however, not surprised in the least when the men got in their vehicles and started moving towards the gate rather than away.
Mark was still on foot, though he’d taken the time away to pull out a gun of his own. He walked alongside the first truck all the way back to Michonne and Glenn.
“We offered you the chance to settle this as friends,” he shouted up at them. Something about his voice was eerily familiar now that he had raised the volume. Still arrogant, boastful… but now with an added hint of madness. “You turned down that generous offer. So here’s what has to happen nex…”
What ever Mark thought had to happen next would just have to go down as one of life’s great mysteries. Tim had moved back to Sasha’s position on the roof as the trucks has started to move. He got set up and quickly realized they were planning on coming in the hard way. He had the shot and already had a greenlight from Rick on the radio.
He took the shot.
“No!” came a shout from one of the trucks. “No! No! No!”
There wasn’t a soul among the original survivors present who didn’t recognize the sound of that voice. Or recognize the sight of the man in the leather jacket who came barreling out of the truck with guns blazing.
Negan.
Glenn and Michonne rolled back on the containers to get out of the line of fire. But the street had turned into a war zone.
Men poured out into the street to fire on the fence. The first truck in line started to rush forward to ram the gates, but veered off into a tree when one of the snipers took out the driver. Several second-story windows from the building opened up and shots were taken by anyone who could supplement Michonne and Glenn without risking the two themselves.
“Hold your fire!” Crowe’s voice came in loud and clear on every radio. “We’re moving in.” And they did, mercilessly. Within minutes, two four-man teams moved up from behind the group of strangers, and two more moved in from the sides.
And they couldn’t move forward.
Negan’s crew, much smaller than the last time, had been wiped out. The injured on the ground were given a bullet to the head as the farm crews converged on their location.
“Alright, alright,” Negan drawled as he came out from behind a truck wheel. “You got me.” Still the same cocky swagger as before. “I’ll be your prisoner again, Rick,” he called over when he laid eyes on the man walking up next to Crowe and Raylan.
“I’ll be good this time. You beat me fair and square, and I won’t even try to escape.” He had his hands up in the classic don’t shoot stance, but there was nothing about Negan that wasn’t an ugly, slithering lie. And they all knew it. “Although you did just kill my brother, and all my men. So what do say we call this even Steven, and I’ll just head back up north. You can have this place.”
Rick stopped a few feet from the man’s grinning face, his own lips stretched into a grim smirk. “What makes you think I’m the one who’s gonna decide what to do with you this time?”
Negan followed Rick's line of sight and turned to look just past his right shoulder. Faster than he could take another breath, Abe grabbed his hair, wrenched his head back, and sliced a deep gash into his throat.
The big man kept ahold of Negan’s hair as he dropped down to his knees in front of the Greene farm residents. Blood spraying out onto the pavement as he tried in vain to speak.
“Look at you,” Abe leaned down and whispered meanly into his ear. “Taking it like a champ.”
He kept his eyes on the man until a hand softly gripped his shoulder. Looking up into Glenn’s face, he nodded and stepped back. But not before pulling Negan backwards into graceless sprawl on the street.
Glenn didn’t have any words for the man. He didn’t really feel like talking at all. Standing over the dying man, he raised one of the pistols he’d picked up on his way out of the gate. He waited just a moment to be sure Negan saw him, was looking at him. And he pulled the trigger.