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Saved by the bat

Sometimes bullshit just blows in your face

Emma’s father had a life motto he ingrained into her from a very early age. When in doubt, joke. So after she stood around with a blank expression in the light of three trucks staring at the carnage that used to be a bunch of guys with motorcycles she did just that.

“Maybe Bud’s ego blew up,” Simon huffed a laugh and gave the severed head a little kick. The head obviously had been alive until recently. Someone had put a bullet into his forehead. This undead business was really messed up sometimes.

“What you think did this?” Simon asked and looked at her. Well, in all fairness five years in the Navy kind of made her the expert in war weaponry. And war weaponry did this, that was quite apparent. Emma wasn’t ready to stop making jokes, though. Sue her, that was her way to cope.

“Well, I guess we can rule out the fist of God, but maybe a small meteor,” the most amusing part was how three of Simon’s guys and Arat looked up and observed the sky with squinted eyes. Seriously? Emma sighed. “Did you find track marks?”

“No,” Simon said so slowly that he might as well could’ve admit they hadn’t looked.

“A tank can do shit like that, but actually I think it was a RPG.”

“You think?”

“I don’t see a tank. RPGs are light, portable, easy to stash. Seems the most likely option, considering this is pretty fresh, two, three hours tops.”

“How do you know?” Simon asked rubbing is moustache. Emma sighed annoyed and pointed her flashlight on a smoking motorcycle.

“Because this bike is still smoldering. Did you have a stroke?”

“I’m just tired,” he mumbled. He actually looked tired, too. But they were all tired. Sometimes you just have to suck it up. “Okay, the master question that comes to mind is who in the holy hell did something like that.”

“Someone Bud shouldn’t have pissed off?” Arat suggested.

“Yeah, no shit,” Emma said. “Could be the same assholes gunning down our guys yesterday,” Simon who had somehow prodded around in a pile of Emma didn’t want to know what looked up.

“What?”

“Oh, yeah. The big turn of events. Dwight ran, took Sherry and Tina. The group Negan sent after them yesterday drove into a shoot-out with three maybe more hostiles. Three are dead, one is in pretty bad shape. And the group Negan sent today, headed by yours truly, lost an arm. Not my arm, apparently, but someone lost an arm.”

“Who lost an arm?”

“Cam,” Simon frowned.

“One of Wade’s guys? What was he even doing with you. Jesus, I’m just gone for five days and everything goes downhill.”

“Speaking of which, where have you been?” Emma asked. They watched a couple of men gather body parts in plastic bags. It wasn’t something Emma would have called a dignified endeavor. Especially when one of them threw up. She couldn’t blame the man. The smell was something to behold.

“There are some peculiar shenanigans going on at the coast. I was there to investigate, fruitless I might add.”

“Peculiar how?” he wanted weird? Why bother with tedious trips to the coast, there was a bunch of weird going on here right now.

“Looks like a group of psychological challenged individuals collected the living and made them dead in the most spectacular way. However, whoever did this is long gone. Some of our guys scavenged around a warehouse and were unfortunate enough to fall for an elaborate boobytrap, though. Negan’s not amused. This won’t help cheer him up, or the Dwight business,” he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, I’ll go to the Satellite Outpost, check out the situation there, break the news to them,” he stared at the remains of some guy. “I know for a fact some will not take this well,” at some point in the past the Satellite Outpost had been Simon’s. He still considered most of the people there more his than Paula’s. Emma wondered if she should do something, like patting his back.

“You want me to come?” she asked instead, down to the nitty gritty was more her style. He looked at her over the crook of his nose.

“No, I don’t want you there in case something goes South,” that was either sexist or oddly sweet. “You get back, be careful. Negan will be pissed, just sit through his ranting and don’t get audacious then you’ll be fine. I’ll be back latest tomorrow afternoon,” he had put his hand on the small of her back and rubbed some small circles with his thump before he let got. For their standard nearly tacky amounts of PDA.

Arat was drumming her fingers on the steering wheel for a while when they were back on the road making their way slowly back to the Sanctuary.

“These people Simon was talking about,” she started, and Emma turned to her warily. “Any chance that this could be like, the same people we met earlier? The guys with the W on their foreheads?” Emma blinked one time, then a second time. Shit she totally forgot about them. Felt like weeks ago.

“Ah fuck, maybe. We bring it up tomorrow. Shit, that’s something we could really use right now, crazies who,” Emma stopped and gawked onto the road. Arat stopped the car slowly and now both stared at the scene in the outer fringe of the headlights.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Arat mumbled and grabbed her rifle. Emma swatted her hand away and got a confused look in return.

“Stay in the car,” she ordered and took the gun instead. After a quick check of the mag she slowly climbed out of the truck and looked around. Despite chirping crickets or cicada she couldn’t hear anything suspicious. This day just didn’t end, didn’t it? She walked a couple of steps and stopped good 15 feet away from Dwight and Sherry who somehow huddled around a motorcycle. She looked at them expectantly and when nothing happened except a stare-off she lifted the rifle a bit. Dwight shared a quick look with Sherry.

“We wanna come back. We’re sorry,” Sherry laborious removed a duffle back from her shoulder and threw it in Emma’s direction.

“It’s all there, the meds, the food,” these assholes had to be shitting her. By the looks on her faces Emma’s attitude showed. She made a little jerk with the gun and a crossbow and a sidearm landed on top of the duffle. Emma scratched the corner of her mouth with her thumb and walked closer rather nonchalantly. She gave the gun on the ground a little backwards kick and it slipped somewhere behind her on the wet asphalt road. The bow was no safety issue for now. She had seen Dwight handle a bow. She would be able to make two pieces of Swiss Cheese out of them before he could even fumble the arrow into the flight groove.
“What the fuck were you thinking,” she said lowly. Then louder. “Arat?” the girl came practically running. She picked up the bow, the gun and the duffle, checked its content and gave Emma a little nod. Emma gestured her to bring it to the car and let the gun down. Sherry looked like she barely could hold herself upright and Dwight didn’t fare much better. Emma sighed dramatically.

“What happened to Tina,” she knew the answer. If the insulin was there the person who needed it wasn’t anymore.

“Dead, roamers,” Dwight just said. “We should’ve known,” he said, and Emma pulled a face.

“Should’ve known what?” Arat came back and shushed them away from the bike. She gave both a short thorough frisking (which she probably should’ve done first, but honestly, both didn’t really look like they could do something fishy even if they tried).

“That we won’t get away with it,” he said softly, and Emma sighed once more.

“Get the bike on the truck,” she ordered. Dwight complied, although he had trouble with it.

After Emma fettered them with zip ties, because she kind of had to, and made them take seats in the back she turned to them, casually entertaining them with her gun. “You already had. So, congratulations, you screwed up.”

Notes

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