The Walls We Build

The front gates creaked open, splitting in two and revealing the sheer size of the Hilltop. To my left upon entering they had small makeshift shacks, each one built specifically for the chore that was to be completed there. My eyes trailed up to the cloud of smoke drifting out of one of the chimneys, a stone fire oven stationed at the back of the shack to cook on. I then looked to my right where they housed the livestock. They had a small, two-stall, self-built barn for the cattle and a chicken coop just beside it. Behind the livestock sat the gardens Jesus had said they planted. An array of emerald green leaves sprouting at every angle from the garden beds.

"Hey, thanks again," One of their men pulled me out of my thoughts before they parted ways with us. I tore my eyes away from the gardens.

"Come see me whenever. I'm just over here in the medical trailer, okay?" Harlan, the doctor, bid goodbye to Glenn and Maggie.

"There was a materials yard for a power company nearby," Jesus began to explain as each of us continued to take in their community. "That's how we put up the walls. A lot of people came from a FEMA camp. Trailers came with them." I looked over to where Jesus had pointed. Maybe twenty trailers lined up in rows of five at the very far end of the community.

"How did people find out about this place?" Michonne asked.

"That's called the Barrington House," Jesus pointed forward, all of us looking up at the monstrosity of a house. It was by far the first thing your eyes lay sight on when entering. The old Victorian home was well maintained. The red brick and white borders, pillars, and windows did not have a single chip that you could spot with the naked eye. I counted twenty-seven windows just on the two sides of the house that I could see. "The family that owned it gave it to the state in the '30s. The state turned it into a living history museum. Every elementary school for 50 miles used to come here for field trips. The place was running a long time before the modern world built up around it. I think people came here because they figured it'd keep running after the modern world broke down," he explained. He then pointed to the very top of the house, where a small tower sat, also covered in windows. "Those windows up there let us see for miles in every direction. It's perfect for security. Come on, I'll show you inside."

I staggered in the front door behind Glenn, my eyes widening at the interior of the building. Not a single spect of dust lay dormant on a single ledge. The front foyer opened up into the rest of the room, a winding staircase with a white-wooden banister directly adjacent to us. A pristine carpet lay in the centre of the room, and a small historian table sat in the middle with a ceramic vase of tulips placed on top and kept well watered. The further in I wandered the more aware of just how unclean we were I became. I worried that my mud-crusted boots would leave dust marks behind on the freshly mopped floors, or my fingerprints would tarnish the image of anything I dared to touch, so I kept my hands gripped tightly on my gun instead.

"Good Gracious Ignatious," Abraham was the first of any of us to speak, muttering one of is bizarre phrases.

"Most of the rooms have been converted to living spaces. Even the ones that weren't bedrooms," Jesus continued on with his explanation of their community.

"People live here and in the trailers?" I asked. They must have plenty of people to keep this place up and running.

"We plan to build," Jesus confirmed, "There are babies being born."

Two doors then opened up to our left, an older gentleman appearing from behind them, dressed in an expensive grey suit. His once black hair had begun to fade to white the colour of his beard nearly matching his suit.

"Jesus," he exclaimed, clearly surprised, "You're back." He then looked around the room, taking in our presence as he raise a curious brow at the group Jesus brought along with him. "With guests," he muttered, pushing back the jacket of his suit to rest his hand on his hips.

"Everyone, this is Gregory," Jesus introduced him to us, "He keeps the trains running on time around here."

"I'm the boss," Gregory held his hands out to the side, a proud grin across his face.

"Well, I'm Rick. We have a community--"

"Why don't y'all go get cleaned up, hmm?" Gregory rudely cut Rick off, proving his point that he ran things around here.

"We're fine," Rick said, trying to keep his voice calm as he narrowed his eyes at Gregory.

"Jesus will show you where you can get washed up," Gregory pressed forward towards Rick, "Then come back down here when you're ready," he smiled. His face was now just inches away from Rick's as he leaned in and said, "It's hard to keep this place clean."

Rick sucked in his bottom lip, "Yeah. Sure."

We turned our heads toward Jesus as he looked displeased by Gregory's behaviour. "Follow me," Jesus nodded, still abiding by the boss's commands.

We follow him up the staircase, I was walking beside Glenn when Rick leaned over to Maggie who walked in front of us.

"You get cleaned up first. You talk to him," he said. It wasn't an order, but it wasn't a question either.

"Why?" she asked.

"I shouldn't," he pursed his lips together, "and you gotta start doing these things."

-------

I had just finished washing up, but really I only washed my hands and slicked my hair back into a tight ponytail. There was nothing I could do about the specks of blood on my t-shirt from the walker I had put down earlier. Maggie had already gone to have a talk with Gregory. Meeting in his office quarters with the doors closed behind them. The majority of us took the time to explore the place while we waited. I was walking along the banister, heading back for the stairs when I stopped in my tracks. I could hear Abraham and Daryl down below in the foyer, my curiosity getting the best of me as I eavesdropped.

"How long do you think Rick and Michonne have been ugging bumplies?" Abraham asked. I could only see their feet. Abraham sat down on one of the chairs as Daryl stood over by the window.

"I don't know," I could hear Daryl shrug off the question like it was none of his business.

The floor creaked as Abraham stood up, walking towards him. I took a step back, ensuring I was not to be seen. "You ever think about it? Settling down? With Scar I mean," Abraham asked. He had been acting odd all day, constantly stuck in his head, and prodding Glenn with these types of questions the entire trip here.

Daryl was quiet for what felt like hours, and I hated that I stood here anxiously awaiting his response. "Thought about it," he finally said, "but you think for a second that shit's settled?" I sucked in a breath, a weird tang stirring deep in my gut. He's thought about it, yet he still opted against it. I don't think that I could blame him though. I knew that he was right. I was about to turn around to walk away and retreat back to the bathroom so it looked as if I was never here, but Daryl spoke again. "I've never been the guy to build a life with, but maybe one day I'll start with her."

The sound of the office doors reopening caused everyone to appear from places I didn't even realize they were. I finally walked over to the top of the steps, my eyes meeting Maggie's clearly angered expression. I two-stepped my way down the stairs, following her into the adjacent room from Gregory's so we could hear her out in private. The door closed behind Michonne, Jesus joining us to hear out Maggie on what his leader had to say.

"He doesn't want to trade with us," she broke the news, "He says we don't have enough of an offer worth his while."

"We want to generate trade. Gregory does," Jesus responded, still trying to salvage the trip we risked to take here. "But ammo isn't something we urgently need."

"Well, how's that?" Rick questioned.

"The walls hold. We just brought in more medicine. Gregory wants the best deal possible," he explained.

"Ya, well, we want things, too," Daryl spat.

"We need food," Rick agreed. "We came all this way, we're gonna get it."

"I will talk to him and we will work this out," Jesus nodded his head, trying to stay calm and diffuse the situation. "Circumstance change. We are doing well now, and you will next. I will make him understand that. Can you give me a few days?"

Rick pondered the idea, narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips together. "We can," Michonne spoke up, agreeing to Jesus' terms.

A distant shout then came from outside, alerting each of us to stand up straighter, instantly becoming on edge. Gregory emerged from his office at the same time we exited our room to the foyer. One of the men we had saved from the car wreck earlier came barreling through the front door.

"What's wrong?" Gregory asked.

"They're back," was all the man responded and it was enough of a warning for Gregory's face to turn from a deep red to a pale white. His face hardened as he stiffened his shoulders and nodded at Jesus to go along with him.

Each of us eyed one another. I looked over at Rick instantly, seeing his brows furrow as he followed them outside to see who they were welcoming back. I covered my eyes with the palm of my hand as the sun-scorched down on us. A fairly large-built man plowed toward Gregory with another man and a woman following close behind, their faces clearly angered.

"Nathan, what happened to everybody else?" Gregory questioned, "Where's Tim and Marsha?"

"They're dead," Nathan spat out, his voice booming. He stood only a couple of feet away from Gregory.

"Negan?" Gregory asked, and the man confirmed his thoughts to be correct. "We had a deal," Gregory shook his head. We were all trying to make sense of their conversation. Who was Negan?

"He said it wasn't enough," the second man said, "Was the drop light?" he asked Gregory.

"No," Gregory spat out like he was insulted by the question.

"They still have Craig," the woman said, her voice quivering.

"They said they keep him alive, return him to us, if I delivered a message to you," Nathan informed Gregory, stepping up closer to him, now only standing a foot away.

"So, tell me."

Nathan placed his hand on Gregory's shoulder, finally bringing his eyes up to meet his stare, "I'm sorry," Nathan exhaled before thrusting his arm forward and burying a knife deep into Gregory's stomach.

We all lunged toward them, Rick and I grabbed Nathan by each arm and yanked him back from Gregory. Michonne and Maggie caught him as the knife slid back out, a deep wheeze escaping his throat as they slowly brought him to the ground.

"Get off of me! I have to!" Nathan shouted, shoving me from his arm and swinging at Rick to get free of his hold.

Rick deflected his punch, kneeing him in the gut before sitting on his chest to deliver more blows to the face. The other man collided with Rick to get him off of Nathan, Abraham immediately stepping in and tackling him to the ground. It all happened so fast, that by the time I slid back on my butt to get out of the way and was back on my feet, Nathan had his knife to Rick's neck.

"Hey!" Glenn shouted, his hand drawing for his gun before he was stopped.

Nathan looked up at him, "Stay back! Anybody who tries to stop me is killing my brother!" he yelled, his voice hoarse and riddled with fear. What the hell was he talking about? Nathan heaved in deep breaths, the blood-covered knife pressing into Rick's neck and turning his face red.

"Drop it," Michonne spoke calm yet firmly, her hand attached to her sword. Nathan threw his head up to look at her. At the same moment, Rick stabbed a wood chip into his jugular, a vast stream of blood spewing out and onto Rick's chest.

The entire town was quiet, everyone witnessing what had just gone down. Rick threw Nathan's limp body off of him, returning to his feet. From the nose down he had been painted in his blood, eyeing down the community that had gawked at what he had just done.

"What?"

"Nathan! You killed him!" the man stirring around on the floor, clutching his arm from Daryl breaking it, screamed out.

"He tried to kill Gregory, then me," Rick answered, pointing to where Gregory still lay on the floor groaning as he clutched the stab wound.

The tiny woman ran forward, sucker-punching Rick in the face and knocking him off of his feet. Michonne grabbed her across the chest, throwing her petite body to the ground in one quick motion.

"Don't," she reprimanded her, telling her to stay down.

"Drop it now," one of the guards finally decided to step in, his makeshift spear pointed at us.

Rick pulled out his gun, clicking off the safety, "I don't think I will," he spat, challenging them with something they had none of, ammo.

"Everyone, this is over!" Jesus shouted, throwing himself in between the two groups and raising his hands in the air to diffuse the situation. "It's over," he repeated, looking back at Rick. "Ethan was our friend," he said, now revealing that Gregory hadn't even cared enough to get the man's name right, "but let's not pretend he was anything more than a coward who attacked us. He did this. And these people stapped him." There was a silence for a moment, everyone's weapons still remained raised, but the tension had subsided.

"What can I do?" Rick asked him.

"Put the gun away. You've done enough," Jesus ordered. Rick clicked the safety back on, lowering his weapon. "You need to know that things aren't as simple as they might seem. Just give me some time."

I don't think even time could explain what had just happened here, and I was left more confused than ever. But one thing I did know was that I wanted to stay as far away from this Negan character as possible.