𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 ➳ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

Chapter 12 ~ The Five-Year-Old Leader

"No! That was not the deal. You people swore you could take the Saviors out, and you failed. So any arrangement we had is now done - null and void. We aren't trade partners, we aren't friends, and we never met. Hmm? We don't know each other, " the old man called Gregory said, pacing back and forth before finally sitting down at a large, mahogany desk in front of us, "I owe you nothing. In fact, you owe me for taking in the refugees, at great personal risk,"

"Oh, you were very brave staying in here while Maggie and Sasha saved this place. Your courage was inspiring," Jesus piped up sarcastically.

"Hey, don't you work for me? Aren't we friends?" Gregory shot back.

"Gregory, we already started this-" Rick interrupted only to be cut off.

"You started this," he retorted childishly.

I snorted, whispering to Daryl, "How old is this guy again? Five?"

Daryl snickered in response before we tuned back into the conversation at hand.

"These are killers!" Gregory fired at Rick.

"Is this how you want to live? Under their thumb, killing your people?" Rick pressed him.

"Sometimes we don't get to choose what our life looks like. Sometimes, Ricky, you have to count the blessings you have," he began to say, arching his gray eyebrows that looked like tiny elderly caterpillars.

"Ricky?" I mouthed to my dad and we burst out laughing hysterically before we were sent a warning glance from Rick, silencing the both of us.

"How many people can we spare? How many people here can fight?" Maggie cut in.

"We? I don't even know how many people we have, Margaret. And does it even matter? I mean what are you gonna do? Start a platoon of sorghum farmers? 'Cause that's what we got. They grow things. They're not gonna want to fight," Gregory refuted her.

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest, choosing to speak up.

"Yeah? And just how do you know that? Have they ever had the opportunity to fight? They might surprise you - they might be good at it-" I said vehemently, sticking up for these people.

"Let me stop you before you break into song, okay?" he said, putting up a hand only to put it down hesitantly as I sent him a withering glare in response, "And, by the way, who would train all this cannon fodder?"

A chorus of voices spoke up only to be shot down once again by Gregory and I let out a frustrated sigh. I felt a hand brush against mine and I glanced up into a cerulean-blue eye. Leaning into his touch gratefully, it calmed me down - like always.

"Would we be better off without the Saviors, yes or no?!" Rick raised his voice suddenly, clearly sick of Gregory's attitude.

"Yeah. Sure. Okay," he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

"So, what will you do to fix the problem?" Michonne asked him, stepping up to the wide, mahogany desk.

"I didn't say we had a problem. You did. And what happens outside of my purview is outside of my purview," the old man shrugged.

"What is wrong with you, man? You're either with us or you ain't. You're sitting over there talking out of both sides of your mouth," Daryl spoke up, stepping closer from where he had stood leaning against the wall.

I put a hand on his arm to stop him from saying anything further. Don't get me wrong - I agreed with dad wholeheartedly. But sometimes...his Dixon mouth got him in trouble. And in this case, would get all of us in trouble. Slowly, he gave me a curt nod before I released him.

"I - I think I've made my position very clear. And I want to thank all of you for not being here today and not having this meeting with me or - or being seen on your way out. In other words, go out the back." Gregory said rudely, dismissing all of us.

I growled in the back of my throat as we exited the room to stand in the hallway, "Wanna knock that idiot's teeth out,"

"Yeah, well, we don't need him anyway," Daryl shrugged, coming to stand beside me.

"Yeah, that's right. 'Cause we have Maggie and Sasha and Jesus here," Rick agreed with him, nodding.

A girl walked in then, urging us to follow her outside. Glancing at each other warily, we did as told. Standing just outside the building was a group of people - farmers presumably - that were waiting for us, it seemed.

"What's going on?" Maggie asked in confusion.

"So, if you don't remember, I'm Bertie. And I owe my life to you all, twice over. A bunch of us do. You want Gregory to get us to fight the Saviors with you. Is that true?" an African-American woman spoke up, stepping away from the group.

Maggie nodded, "Yes,"

"Do you think we can win, that we really could beat them? Us?"

"I do,"

"Well, then... I'm ready," the woman said, standing up straighter.

A chorus of voices spoke up then - all pitching in. I grinned. We had our army.