Tonight the World Dies

Deanna requests an audience with me the next day, and I already know that it’s about her eldest son’s untimely death. I wonder if Nicholas has already tried to get his hooks in her and spill some sob story that paints him as the noble one. I’m awake annoyingly early, and so I dress in new clothes—another thing I won’t get used to anytime soon—and I go outside to sit on the porch. Maggie and Glenn are sitting on the steps, and they both turn to greet me. I sit on Glenn’s left side.

“Deanna ask for you?” he asks. I merely nod and he presses his lips into a thin line. “Me too. Should be fine, though. We can corroborate each other’s story.”

“Mm. How’s Tara?”

Glenn sighs and squints out at the wall guarding Alexandria. “Still hasn’t woken up yet. She got tossed pretty hard. How are you doing? I know you were pretty close to that blast.”

I shrug. My back isn’t as sore, down to a dull ache. “I’m fine.”

“Watched you lay out Nicholas. Glad you did it. He was way too smarmy. He was pretty pissed afterwards, though.”

“I’m not afraid of Nicholas,” I scoff. “He’s a rat. A cowardly rat. Think Deanna’s ready for us?”

“Probably as good a time as any.” The three of us rise, and Maggie walks with us to Deanna’s house. The former congresswoman is waiting on her porch, looking the picture of southern hospitality as she sips on a glass of lemonade. She rises from the porch swing she’s seated on and smiles tightly at both Glenn and I.

“Good, you’re early. Come in.” Glenn briefly kisses Maggie and follows me up into the house. Deanna does not offer us any beverages, which is fine by me. To Glenn’s and my surprise, Rick is seated on one of the chairs in the living room in a sheriff’s uniform. I suppose my instincts were correct in that regard.

Deanna separates Glenn and me, choosing to speak with me first. Glenn remains in the hallway and Deanna closes the door. Rick isn’t smiling at me, opting to play neutral in this situation. I take a seat on the pristine cream-colored couch, smoothing my hands over my thighs. Deanna lowers herself into the chair across from me and folds her hands on her lap.

“I assume you know why you’re here,” she starts. I sit rigidly on the couch, perched on the edge like I’m going to need to make a quick getaway.

“Yes.”

“We want to hear your side of the story about what happened...to my son.” It’s as she trails off that I see the exhaustion and grief in her eyes. Aiden’s death has hit her harder than she’s letting on. Brave woman, but I’m still on edge.

I hesitate to say his name. “Aiden led us into the warehouse, we broke off, and Aiden started shooting. I ran over to see what was up, and all of a sudden there was an explosion. I got knocked backwards, as did Tara, and that’s when I’m assuming she hit her head—”

“You assume she hit her head?” Deanna interjects, narrowing her eyes slightly. I resist the urge to roll mine.

“Yes. I was a bit dazed myself when I was pretty much blown up so I didn’t see what exactly happened. When I got some balance back the first thing I did was check on Aiden. He was...impaled on a couple pieces of metal shelving. He didn’t look good but before I could do anything Glenn pulled me into an office and that’s when I saw what condition Tara was in. Her head was bleeding, and Nicholas kept wailing that we needed to leave. I kept yelling at him that Aiden was still alive. I could see him breathing. Nicholas wasn’t listening, and he and Eugene picked up Tara and got her out of there. I didn’t feel right leaving Aiden when I knew he was still alive, so Glenn tried to help me get him down. But every time we pulled him, he kept yelling, and it attracted walkers. He told us to go. I didn’t want to, but I knew we’d all die if we didn’t. Before I left, I told him I was sorry because I was. I am.”

When I finish, Deanna’s features are pinched, and I know it isn’t easy to hear a second recounting of her son’s brutal death. I let out a shaky sigh, the storytelling and the memory hitting me harder than I’d like it to. I watch Deanna hurriedly swipe underneath her eyes; I feel terrible for telling her the gruesome details, but she’s the one who asked. Beside her, Rick has remained silent, and he looks at me sadly. I know he can see how much this is affecting me, and I do my best to correct my poker face. I’m not sure it works, though.

“I think that’ll be all, Candace,” Rick says softly, glancing between me and the struggling Deanna, but the other woman holds up her hand, sniffling once.

“I’m not quite finished. Your telling doesn’t quite match up with Nicholas’s.” Of course it doesn’t. “Not to mention, we haven’t yet discussed your assaulting him yesterday.”

I cross my arms over my chest somewhat defensively. “Nicholas is, for lack of a better term, an asswipe. He’s a liar, too. He wanted to leave your son there, even when he knew he was still alive. He’s a coward, and because of him we were unable to save Aiden. Yesterday, I admit my emotions were running a little high and it set me off when Nicholas said what he did. I could have handled it better, but I’m not sorry I did it.”

Deanna has regained her composure, and she meets my stare eye-to-eye. Her back is ramrod straight, and I am unsure whether or not she actually buys my story.

“After the events of yesterday, I think it would serve you better to help Olivia in the pantry. She’s waiting for you.” Then, she releases me. I all but leap off the couch and out the door, temporarily ignoring the part where I’m off run duty. Glenn leans against the wall opposite the door, and I jerk my head at him, silently telling him it’s his turn. He nods in reply and walks into the room slowly, hands in pockets and shoulders hunched like a kicked puppy.

When the door closes again, I take a moment to take a deep breath. While I am not surprised to learn that Nicholas has tried to paint himself in a positive light, I can’t help the anger coursing through me at the thought. That, and the fact that I’m going to be further cooped up inside these walls. My hands curl into fists at my sides as I exit the house and step onto the street. People are out and about with their kids and their pets, and I’m surprised when a few of them wave at me. I offer a limp wave in return, before making a left and heading towards the pantry.

Olivia is, indeed, waiting for me, and when I walk through the door, she hands me a clipboard and directs me to the armory. I make a small face at the fact that she’s just handing over the armory to me, a complete stranger, who could easily assemble any weapon they’ve got stocked and go on a homicidal rampage. Fortunately, for them, I haven’t gone that far off the deep end just yet. The armory is impressive; combined with our group’s guns, there is a big enough arsenal to successfully stave off a herd of the dead. I take stock of every weapon, its caliber, and the appropriate ammunition for every gun. Then, I take a tally of how many of each weapon we have and how much ammo. It takes me a couple of hours to get the hang of the job, having never had to take any kind of inventory in my former life, but by the time I’m done and have double-checked everything, I’m absolutely positive that it is not the job for me.

It's tedious and frustrating, and everyone who goes out needs to sign out a weapon and bring it back when they’re finished. It’s halfway through the afternoon when Aaron and Daryl enter the armory, looking to sign out a couple of guns. Daryl seems surprised to see me in here, and I give him an impatient look.

“Whatchu doin’ here?” he asks in that rough voice.

“Deanna demoted me,” I mutter. He moves towards the rifles that hang on the back wall. “Apparently, my bubbly personality won’t be needed on supply runs any longer.” Daryl snorts and tries to cover up a crooked smile as I glare at him. He doesn’t succeed, and my stupid brain thinks a smile is a good look for him.

“That because you laid Nicholas out flat?” Aaron asks, fiddling with a handgun. I haven’t had too many opportunities to speak to, much less thank, the man for providing me with antibiotics back in the barn. He turns to me with a wry smile, and I let a small one through, too. “Good. That kid needed a good clock to the face.”

“Happy to serve. By the way, Aaron, I never got to thank you for, uh, helping me out back in the barn. The others told me you gave me some antibiotics and frankly, I’m not sure I’d be here if it weren’t for you.”

“Oh, I think you would’ve been fine, but you’re welcome. You’ve got a good group of people here.” I glance at Daryl briefly; the hunter is picking up boxes of ammo, trying to stay out of our conversation.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Shame you got kicked off run duty, though.”

I shrug one shoulder. “It was technically a trial run, but they’re going to find out real quick that I don’t do well cooped up inside. Someone else might get decked.”

Aaron chuckles and signs out a rifle and a handgun. Beside him, Daryl takes just a handgun; his trusty crossbow is strapped across his back.

“Well, maybe I can work my magic and see if Deanna would let you become a recruiter. You could come out with Daryl and me.” Daryl’s gaze snaps from Aaron to me expectantly.

I chuckle lowly. “Not sure I’m the type of person you want trying to bring in new people. First impressions aren’t exactly my forte.”

“Well, you let me know if you change your mind. Oh, and since we haven’t had all that much time to get to know each other, why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? Matter of fact, Daryl, you come too. Eric is dying to meet both of you.” I take a moment to think it over, and Aaron notices my hesitation. “I’m making spaghetti.”

“Sold,” is my immediate reply. Aaron chuckles and turns questioningly to Daryl. I lift my eyebrows expectantly, and finally, with a glance between Aaron and me, he shrugs.

“Why not?”

“Great! How about sunset? Daryl and I will make sure we’re back here before then. See you tonight, Candace.” With that, the two recruiters leave the armory, and Daryl gives me one last backward glance before he’s gone.