Daughter of a Dixon ✔️

94: Traitor Trash

The next morning, Rick's trash people arrived bright and early, ready to help us fight our inevitable battle. Their leader's name was Jadis, who honestly put me on edge slightly; she was walking around Alexandria like she owned the place, and I didn't like it one bit. 

"So, what do you think of these dumpster folks?" Lea asked discreetly, coming up to me as we both surveyed the scene. Dad and a few others were setting up explosives outside the gates, ready to set them off when the Saviors showed up.

I huffed out a sigh, and shook my head. "I don't know... if Rick trusts them, then, I guess they're okay? But, I don't know... something feels off..."

Lea gave a curt bob of her head in agreement, scanning the area and watching the darkly-dressed people wander around the inside of our walls. "I know we need numbers, but we also need to be safe. Maybe the idea of a few extra helping hands in the war blinded Rick from seeing what's really there."

I watched closely through narrowed eyes as Dad, Rosita, Tara, and one of the trash ladies finished setting up the explosives in a nearby abandoned truck, the three of them hopping out of the vehicle one by one. They looked back on their work, scanning to make sure everything looked right, before walking away, Dad closing the back of the truck before leaving. 

"What are you doing?" Lea asked, suddenly catching wind of what I was glaring at. I could've sworn, before Dad closed the truck, I saw a flicker of a hand inside the vehicle; a hand that was holding wire cutters.

I looked to my left, and saw Rick off on the grass, speaking to Jadis. "Hey, Rick!" I called, keeping my voice low. He heard me, and turned his head in my direction. I beckoned him over with my hand, and looked away soon after, refocusing my vision to the dynamite truck. 

A second later, Rick appeared beside me, his arms crossed. "I think one of the trashies was messing around in the truck, with the explosives," I said flatly, turning to look at Rick. He gave me an uncertain expression, quirking an eyebrow and cocking his head to the side. 

"How do you know?" he questioned. 

"When Dad closed up the truck, I saw someone's hand, with wire cutters, just before it closed. They must've hidden out in the front, and waited for them to finish," I explained. 

Rick immediately shook his head. "No... Daryl would've seen it, someone would've."

"Well, I still think we should check," I said, a sharp tone present in my voice. 

Rick wasn't pleased with the edge in my words, and he narrowed his eyes at me, arms crossed over his chest. I mirrored his expression, letting out a silent sigh in an attempt to keep my voice level. "Can we just have someone check? I mean, come on, have I ever been wrong about these kinds of judgements?"

His glare grew harsh, as if he were already agitated before I started speaking to him. "Have I?" he shot back, raising an eyebrow daringly. 

Remember when you thought the CDC was safe and almost got us all blown to pieces? Remember when you scared the shit out of all of us by telling us that out group wasn't a democracy anymore? Remember when you thought Terminus was safe and we all almost become lunch meat? Remember when you thought leading the walkers away from Alexandria's quarry would be a good idea, and then Carl lost an eye for it? Remember when you thought we could be all badass and take on the Saviors, but it got us so far into Hell that we're still fighting our way out?

All those things flashed through my mind, but I didn't dare speak them out loud. Rick was an amazing leader, he just could be easily blinded sometimes by a lot of things. He also had a big ego, thinking our group was the best, that we could take on anything, when really, there was a world much bigger than us out there, and Rick had yet to realize that.

As him and I were locked in our intense stare-down, commotion began from up on top of the gates, and we both snapped our heads to it. "Rick! They're coming!" one of the guards yelled, and Rick had darted off without another word. 

My heart constricted in my chest, and I looked to Lea, who was in the midst of a heavy sigh. "Don't do anything stupid," she warned, clapping me on the shoulder before turning and running to her spot atop the gates. 

"You're taking all the stupid with you," I muttered only loud enough for myself to hear. I nodded to myself with encouragement, and grabbed the gun strapped behind my back, and brought it around in front of me. There was no turning back now. 

I made my way away from the gate, considering that, to the Saviors, I was buried six feet under the ground. Negan would probably be pissed when he saw me alive, and I didn't want that to interfere with the plan. I took my place behind a nearby tree, peering around the edge of it to see what was happening. 

To say I was shocked when I saw Eugene the Traitor at our gate, yelling at Rick through a megaphone, was a complete understatement. 

"Hello. I come with the hope that it is the dropping knowledge you've heard. The offense is zero to none. Appliance of-..."

I stopped listening. I didn't give a rat's ass about what he had to say; he was a coward and a traitor, and none of his words mattered to me anymore. 

Until Rick asked, "where's Negan?" I had zoned out completely.

Without a moment's hesitation, Eugene replied with, "I'm Negan."

From my place of security behind the tree, I saluted him with both my middle fingers, giving him an infamous death glare. A second later, I looked up to Rick, who had made an 'okay' symbol with his left hand behind his back, aiming the gesture towards Rosita. She was the one with the device that would set off the dynamite. 

I looked towards her, and saw her exhale shortly before turning her head to the side, and pressing the activation button behind her back. I closed my eyes, waiting for the inevitable explosion to reach my ears.

It never came. 

What did come, though, was the sound of guns loading all around us. I looked around in shock to find that Rick's beloved trash folks were pointing guns at all of our group members, and forcing us to put our guns down.

I watched, blood boiling, as several Saviors walked towards our dynamite-filled truck, beginning to steal our supply. So, turns out I was right after all, and Rick, for once, was wrong.

Before I could continue to think about how I'd rub the fact I was right about a judgement call in Rick's face, the man of the hour exited one of the trucks, grinning. 

Negan had, once again, stayed one step ahead.

Lucky for us, though, we had a habit of always staying two.