AUTHOR’S NOTE: Consider this to be The Walking Dead as told from the reader’s perspective, meaning that some parts of the show will be cut out and replaced with different things. A lone ellipse (a ‘...’) signals a scene change. Three tildes (‘~~~’) signify a scene change/POV change. There’s a lemon in the first part of this, so, if that makes you uncomfortable, you may want to skip to the first ellipse. Okay? Okay. Happy reading, campers!
Previously on ‘A Walk Among The Dead’…
It was all their fault…
“Don’t ya go gettin’ depressed on me.” He pulled you along, “If yer no’ strong fer yer sister, who’ll be?” You nodded blankly. He stopped after a moment, turning to look at you. “Don’ be like Carol. Don’ do this.”
...with a quick flick of your wrist, the knife was through her hair, just underneath the hair tie. Her hair fell off in a thick clump, scattering over her back as it landed on the ground.
Your body shook, and you covered your mouth with your hands, trying to hold the sobs in.
“Ya asked me ta prove it…” He leaned down, pressing his head against your heart and setting it there, listening to your heart beat rapidly. “This how I prove it.”
A Walk Among The Dead
Season 2 Episode 10 & 11: 18 Miles Out & Judge, Jury, Executioner
You stared up at him after he moved to lock eyes with you, shaking slightly. He was going to prove it? He was… going to prove it? You looked away after a moment, staring at your wrist, which was still entrapped in his hand. Your heart was thumping in your chest as you shook your hand slightly, hoping to get him off. He only tightened his grip to an almost painful position. “Daryl… You’re hurting me.” He loosened his grip slightly, but still held onto your wrists.
He said nothing, sitting up and unbuttoning his collared shirt, sliding off his vest as he did so. Your eyes went from his face, then down his neck, and finally trailed down his chest. Since he had left go of your hands, you raised a hand up and traced the outline of the burn that laid right over his heart. He sat a hand against yours, gripping your fingers. You sat up and stared intently at the scar, pulling your fingers from his to trace the outline again.
With a tremble in your fingers, you raised your hand to touch his face. His beard scratched against your skin, but you found you liked the feeling. Your thumbs ran over his cheekbones, then you moved your hands to trail down his neck, then to his shoulders, then down his arms. He straddled your waist between his legs. You took his hands into yours, staring at the intertwined fingers.
You raised his hand to your lips, pressing them against the skin on the back of it. He pulled his hand from yours after a moment and moved to tug at the bottom of your shirt. With a gentleness you were unaware he possessed, he pulled the sweater off and over your head.
He took the chorded fabric and rubbed it against your face, scoffing, “Ya got snot all o’er yerself.” You nodded and rubbed your face. He knocked your hand away and continued to move the scratchy fabric against your face.
After a few moments, he set the sweater on the ground and ran his hands up your arms, stopping them at your shoulders. You sighed as he rubbed the muscles there, tilting your head to offer him more access to them. He kneaded the muscles, which caused a painful yet relieving experience. He pulled away when you sighed in content. You looked up at him, “Daryl?”
His hand came to tilt your chin, and he set his lips against yours. You lifted your arms to wrap around his neck, tugging at a few loose strands of hair on the back of his neck. He shuddered at the feeling, opening his mouth to poke your lips with his tongue. You opened your mouth, your own muscle coming out to run over the top of his. You moved one of your hands higher, nails digging into the back of his head in an effort to pull him closer.
He pushed you back, supporting his weight with his knees, hands coming to rest beside your head. His breathing had started to quicken, as if he was dying of anticipation. You stared up at him. The two of you laid there like that, soaking in each other’s presence, feeling like this was right and that the world wasn’t shit.
Slowly, you looked away, moving your hands to undo the button on your pants, pushing the fabric down and kicking it off. You laid back down after a moment, blinking up at him with wondrous eyes. He clicked his tongue and set his lips against yours quickly before unbuckling the belt that held his jeans to his waist. He maneuvered himself so that his jeans slid off and he was back to straddling your waist in a few seconds. He positioned himself above you again, breathe fanning over your face.
“You smell like cigarettes,” you whispered. He licked his lips before shutting his mouth.
“Bad?” he asked, pulling his head back.
You shook your head, “It suits you. I… I like it.” You looked back at him with an innocent gaze, “Please kiss me again?” He smirked, lowering his head to press his lips against yours, tongues touching in a playful way. He moved a hand, tracing it over your collarbone and down your stomach, index finger tracing the fabric of your panties. He looked down after a moment and smirked again. “What is it?"
“Ya always wear lace, er is tha’ just fer me?” You blinked twice before looking down your stomach and seeing the flowery lace of your panties. You blushed an angry red, averting your gaze from his.
“I… I don’t exactly have a large selection of underwear to choose from! My mom always told me to bring a pair of pretty ones, so I did!" You looked up when he chuckled under his breathe, blinking at him innocently before arching your back as his fingers dipped beneath the lace fabric of your panties. They moved down to cup your heat, middle finger sliding in between your outer folds and tracing your clit. You threw your head back, biting your lip to hold in your moans. He chuckled again.
“Fergot yer a virgin.” He moved his middle finger down, swirling around your entrance to gather moisture. “I’ll take it slow n’ sweet.” He moved the finger up to circle the bundle of nerves, making you bite the inside of your cheek.
“I-I hate the bitterest things, y-y’know.” Your head fell back as he pushed a finger into you, his nail scraping against your inner walls. You let out a breathy moan, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to support yourself. He pushed another finger in after your breathing had steadied out and you let out a small squeal. You ran your nose over his neck, inhaling to try and even out your breathing. “D-Daryl!” He spread the fingers apart, then shut them, then repeated the motion.
“Tight…” You looked up at him with hazy eyes, and he moved a hand to support your back. “Fuckin’... tight. Yer so fuckin’ tight.” You could only nod.
“D-Daryl…” You let go of his shoulders, trailing your hands down and pushing the fabric against his hips down. You moved a hand to trace against his erection, nails gently scraping over the head. He hissed when you moved a finger across his cock’s slit. You repeated the motion softly as you leaned up, fighting the urge to tell him you loved him. With a soft voice, you said, “I... need you.”
He pushed you back down, pulling his fingers out from inside of you and pushing your underwear down. With a gentle motion, he pulled them off of your legs, pushing your thighs apart as he trailed kisses down your body. He grabbed your ankles and pulled them up, pressing them close to your chest.
Daryl sighed a he rubbed his cock against your vaginal opening, the tip teasing your clit. You bit your lip and thrashed about at the feeling, hands gripping the plastic floor of the tent. With a quiet groan, he pulled back.
And, all at once, he pushed into you, not giving you a moment to adjust. It stung, but there was pleasure behind the thrust. He leaned down and kissed you softly, pulling away to press a kiss against your forehead.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, enclosing his waist in between your legs to pull him closer. He continued to thrust into you slowly, gritting his teeth. “Yer so fuckin’ tight… It’s so warm…”
You were nodding, pulling him close so you could feel every inch of him. To make sure that it was actually happening. Why, when the world was complete shit, did this feel so right? Why was it just you and him having sex? Why did you feel like it was the only good thing you had left, him and Margo?
“I love you,” slipped past your lips, and you stared up at him with wide, frightened eyes. He was going to go soft. He was going to pull out and laugh. He was going to say that he wouldn’t, couldn’t--
“I love ya, too.” You blinked once, twice, three times before kissing him, burying your hands into his hair and pulling him closer to you.
With a gentle expression, you whispered, “Prove it.”
And, by God, did he prove it.
With a smirk, he pulled out, thrusting back into you quickly. Despite the speed, it was gentle, like he was trying to drive the point home. You moaned loudly, throwing your head back and shutting your eyes. “Ah… ah, Daryl... It feels... good…” He continued to thrust, and you felt the heat clenching your insides, a spring tightening.
All at once, he switched from gentleness to roughness, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His thrust became sloppy and wild, and he kept stroking a certain spot inside of you. With a whimper of his name, you whispered, “I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum!”
“(F/Name)--” Your walls clenched around him, the heat in your stomach dissipating as a warm liquid trailed down your legs. “Fuck, (F/Name)!” He pulled out of you just as he came, the white liquid squirting over your legs and stomach. You both panted heavily, and he collapsed on top of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you to him.
“Daryl… Too… Heavy… Can’t… Breath!” He rolled over so that you laid against his chest, which moved up and down quickly. Yours matched. He ran his hands up and down your back, and you laid yours against his chest. “I’m not a virgin anymore,” you commented offhandedly.
“Yer not…. Good?”
“No, the cake. Yea the sex.”
You smiled up at him, “It was very gentle. I liked it.” You moved to press a kiss against his lips, “But I’m tired now. Let’s take a nap.”
“Ya need ta get up and talk ta yer sister. She’s worried ‘bout ya.” You sighed, sitting up and searching for your clothes.
“Yea. I guess I should prolly talk to her.”
He had explained the situation to you as you two redressed yourselves. Lori’s pregnancy, the boy Rick, Glenn, and Hershel had found, what they were doing with said boy… everything.
So, with a slightly better perception of the world (and also a distinct thumping in between your legs), you stepped out of your tent and inhaled the air. You walked towards main camp, bumping shoulders with Daryl as you did bashfully.
When you arrived at main camp, he broke off to stand on the outskirts, still angry with the rest of the group. Margo looked up from talking to Carl, and her eyes sparkled. “Sis!” she screeched, running to you and hugging you around your waist. You pat her head affectionately. “You feelin’ better?”
“Just a bout of depression, kiddo. Daryl came and talked me out of it.” You motioned to the hick with your head, and she nodded. “What were you and Carl talking about?”
She shrugged her shoulders, “Stuff.”
It was a few days later that Beth tried to commit suicide. They had already taken the boy away, so you were left in charge of the kids.You had been sitting with Carl and Margo when Lori ran out in a rush. You could only blink in surprise.
Your sister stared at you, “Beth… tried to kill herself?” You stood up, but the brunette looked at you sternly.
“Stay with the kids. Don’t let them outta your sight.” You nodded, sitting back down and pulling the two children close. She pat Carl’s head, “Listen to (F/Name), okay? Be good for her.” He nodded.
“I will, Mom.”
“I’ll keep an eye on them, Lori. You just go take care of Beth… How deep was it?”
“Not deep enough. She’ll live.”
His fist just kept colliding with his face. Again, and again, and again. Over and over, Daryl punched the boy, Randall, in the face. Eventually, the boy fell to the floor, grunting and panting in pain.
Shane and Rick had failed. They had been attacked by Walkers and had no choice but to bring the kid back to the farm. They had locked him inside the barn until they decided what to do with him.
To be honest with himself, it worried him. The boy, if he were ever to get out and back to his people, would tell them the location of the farm. He would put everyone in danger. Daryl had to know if he was a threat to the people on this land or not.
With one punch, the kid groaned loudly, nearly crying out in pain. With another, he spat out blood and cried out, “I told you--!”
“Ya told me shit!”
The kid panted, “I barely knew those guys! I met ‘em on the road!”
“How many in your group?” He didn’t have time for sob stories. When the boy didn’t respond, he pulled out his knife, fully prepared to stab him in the thigh.
“Oh no, no no no no no no. C’mon, man.” Daryl slammed the knife into the ground beside his wound.
“Uh, thirty! Thirty! Thirty guys!”
“Uh… AGH!” The hick ripped the bandage off of his leg. “I don’t know, I swear! We were never any place more than a night!”
“Scoutin’? Plannin’ on stayin’ local?”
“I--I don’ know! They--they lef’ me behind!”
He slid the knife into the healing wound, “Did ya ever pick off a scab?” He pushed said knife further towards the edge.
“C’mon, man! I’m--I’m tryna cooperate!” he cried out.
“Start real slow a’ first.”
“Sooner er later, ya just gotta rip it off.”
“Okay! Okay.” The boy stammered, looking for the words that would get him out of the situation. “They ‘ave weapons. Heavy stuff, automatics.” Daryl slid the knife into the scab some more. “B-b-but I didn’t do anythin’!”
“Yer boys shot at my boys, tried ta take this farm! Ya jus’ went along fer the ride? Yer tryna tell me yer innocent!?”
The kid slammed his head against the wall he was leaning against, “YES!” Daryl glared at him, waiting to hear more as he stood up. Randall looked around frantically, as if trying to find the magic words. “These--these people took me in! Not jus’ guys--a-a-a whole group of ‘em! Men n’ women, kids too, jus’ like you people! Thought I’d ‘ave a better chance with ‘em, y’know? But… we go out, scavenge, jus’ the men. One night, we… we found this lil campsite. A man n’ his two daughters.”
The hick’s mind flickered to the (L/Name)s, but he blinked the image away to glare at the boy. “Teenagers, y’know? Real young. Real cute.” He had turned around, but looked over shoulder to glare at the boy. This story was taking a turn for the ‘I’m going to kill you.’ “Their daddy had ta watch while these guys… they… And they didn’ even kill him afterwards! They jus--they jus’ made him watch. As his daughters…. They jus’--jus’--jus’ left him there. No, b-but I didn’t touch those girls! No, I swear, I didn’t to--” The hick kicked him.
“Please! Please! Ya gotta believe me man!” The boy started to cry. “I’m no’ like that. I ain’t like that. Please. Please. Ya gotta believe me.” He kicked the boy again, causing him to scream out. Then he beat the boy’s face in.
“So what’s the plan?” You shoved your hand into the leather pockets of the jacket, leaning next to Margo. She wrapped her arm around yours.
Andrea looked at Rick and Shane, “Is there a plan?”
“We gonna keep him here?” Glenn asked.
“We’ll know soon enough.” He jutted his chin in the direction of the farm, and you all turned to see Daryl walking up.
“Boy there’s gotta gang, thirty men.” He nodded in your direction, and you twisted your mouth at the sign of his bloodied knuckles. He had beat the poor kid. “They ‘ave heavy artillery n’ they ain’t lookin’ ta make friends. They roll through here, our boys are dead. And our women…” He stopped next to you and glanced at you from the corner of his eyes. “They’re gonna wish they were.”
“What did you do?” Carol asked.
He looked at the ground before starting to walk away. “Had a lil chat.”
“No one goes near this guy,” your leader stated.
“Rick, what are you gonna do?” his wife asked. You looked at the group, then took Daryl’s hand into yours and flipped it over, examining it.
“We need to get this cleaned up…” you mumbled. He shrugged and pulled it from yours. “Daryl, you’re gonna get an infection if you don’t clean it out.” He continued to walk, and you motioned for your sister follow you. She shook her head.
“I’m gonna stay with Carl, ‘kay?”
“Stay within the adult’s sights, okay?”
You looked back at the hick, who had already gotten a good few feet ahead of you. You ran to catch up with him. “But seriously, you need that cleaned up.” With a tremble in your fingers, you took his hand into yours again, lacing your fingers together. “I’ll even kiss it better.”
He glanced over at you, before rolling his eyes. “Bu’ only because I don’ wanna die in a friggin’ apocalypse of blood poisonin’.”
She had let Carl convince her to climb up into the barn after Shane had told them not to. In all honesty, she had just wanted a look at the kid they were planning on killing. She couldn’t blame them, or even go against them; he was a danger to their group.
“Carl, we really shouldn’t be doing this!” she hissed out, trying her hardest to be quiet as they stepped towards the center of the barn, overlooking the boy. Once they made it to the center, they looked down to see the boy looking up at them. She stared at him, examining his appearance.
He was probably her sister’s age… Maybe a little older. His face was bloodied and battered, and his dark hair was matted to his forehead with sweat. He looked up at them with hope in his eyes. She decided she didn’t care for him. He was a threat. Not a kid. Not a man… A threat.
He whispered, “Hey!” He looked out the cracks in between the doors before smiling up at you two. “Tha’s a sweet hat! And yer friend, she’s a cutie… I’m Randall. Wha’s yer name?” They didn’t respond, though Margo looked at her friend from the corner of her eye. “The sheriff guy--tha’ yer dad? I like him. Yeah, he’s a good guy, I can tell. Your mom out here too?” Carl tilted his head, and she looked off to the side. “Yer… yer lucky you still got yer family. I lost mine... “ Randall looked at her. “And yer parents? Yer family? They out here too?” She didn’t respond. He looked at them pleadingly. “Hey, I--I dunno what people been sayin’ ‘bout me, but, I didn’t do nothin’. I swear.” Carl started to walk across the boards, but she stayed where she was, watching the situation. “Yer dad was gonna lemme go ‘till his friend started fightin’ with him. It got pretty bad. I--I was kinda worried.” The boy climbed down the ladder to stare at the kid. “My camp, we got lots o’ supplies. You help me, I’ll take you and yer folks back ta my people. We’ll take good care o’ you. Keep you safe. Jus’ gotta-- Jus’ gotta help me get outta here, okay? Jus’ help me pick these locks or find the key, okay?” Carl walked towards the kid, a quizzical look in his eyes. “Come on, please? Please?”
When the barn door slammed open and Shane stepped in, Margo pulled her head back so that he couldn’t see her. “What the hell are you doin’ in here? What did you say to him?” In the commotion, she slipped back out of the barn, running to the front to get Carl. Shane was berating him and pulling him out the door. “The hell you doin’?”
“Please don’t tell my parents!”
“Carl, that ain’t cool, man. You could’ve gotten hurt in there.”
“I can handle myself. And Margo.”
“Margo? Margo!?” He turned to look at the ten-year-old. “You were in there, too?”
“Don’t tell sis please.”
He grabbed the girl by her arm, pulling her to stand beside Carl. Then, he pointed in their faces. “Lemme tell you somethin’--You two do not go near him again. Do you hear me?” She nodded. He walked away, “Damn it!”
“You won’t tell my parents or (F/Name), right?”
“Listen, kids, this--this ain’t ‘bout getting in trouble, okay? A guy like that, he will say anythin’ to you. He’ll try to make you feel sorry for him. He’ll try to make you get your guard down. You let your guard down out here, people die. Now just--Do me a favor. Go find your Ma. Go on.” Carl nodded, running off. Shane turned to look at Margo. He shook his head, “Go.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice.
You sat across from the firepit Daryl had, staring at him while Margo sat in front of you, idly reading her Poe book. Dale walked up the stoop and the hick scoffed. “The point o’ me comin’ up here is ta get away from you people.”
“Gonna take more than that,” the old man commented.
“Carol send ya?”
“Carol’s not the only one concerned about you, your new role in the group.” He looked at you, “We’re concerned about all of you. You guys shouldn’t be holed up this far away from camp.”
“This group’s broken.” You looked at your sister, who stared at you with wide eyes and mouthed ‘what?’ You looked back at Daryl. “I’m better off fendin’ fer myself. Better off takin’ care o’ these two without y’all stickin’ yer noses up our asses.”
“You act like you don’t care.”
“Yea, it’s ‘cause I don’.” He put the arrows he had been working with down, moving to throw a jacket overtop of his shoulders.
“So live or die, you don’t care what happens to Randall?”
“Then why not stand with me, try to save the kid’s life, if it really doesn’t matter one way or the other?”
“Didn’t peg ya fer a desperate son of a bitch.”
“Your opinion makes a difference.”
“Man, the only people lookin’ at me are,” he pointed at you and your sister as he walked over to grab his bow, “these two. Everybody else ain’t lookin’ at me fer nothin’.”
“Carol does. And I am. Right now.” Daryl turned to the old man. “And you obviously… you have Rick’s ear.”
He walked back towards Dale, “Rick jus’ looks ta Shane. Let ‘im.” He walked away, nodding to you as he went.
“You cared about what happened to Sophia.” He turned back around. “Cared what it meant to the group.” The hick walked towards him. “But torturing people? That isn’t you. You’re a decent man!” The old man gestured back towards the main camp. “So is Rick. Shane--he’s different.”
“Why’s that? ‘Cause he killed Otis?” You blinked; this was the first you were hearing of anyone killing anyone.
Dale approached the hick. “He tell you that?”
“He told some story--How Otis covered him, saved his ass. He showed up with the dead guy’s gun. Rick ain’t stupid. If he didn’t figure that out, it’s ‘cause he didn’ wanna. It’s like I said,” Daryl walked away, and you looked at the ground. It… it all made sense…. “Group’s broken.” He walked off, crossbow slung over his arm
Dale looked at you after the hick was out of earshot. “You… You don’t believe in saving this kid’s life?”
“Daryl told me what he said in there… What his group does to women and children… I don’t want my little sister defaced or in danger, no matter what. If we can find a peaceful way where we know he won’t be a threat to us, then sure, he lives. If we have to kill him to protect us, then sure, he dies.” You pat Margo on the head. “But nothing… nothing that will put my sister in danger.”
He clicked his tongue, “(F/Name)... You wanted to be a teacher. You must have some compassion in you somewhere.”
You looked down, “I have compassion for those I care about, Dale. That’s all I have, anymore.”
At sunset, your group reconvened at Hershel’s home, standing around awkwardly. You listened quietly as Glenn said, “So how do we do this? Just… take a vote?”
“Does it have to be unanimous?”
“How about majority rules?”
Rick raised his hands, “Let’s--let’s see where everybody stands. Then we can… talk through the options.”
Shane glanced at the leader, “Well, where I sit, there’s only one way to move forward.”
“Killing him,” Dale scoffed, “right? I mean, why even bother to take a vote? It’s clear which way the wind’s blowing.”
“Well, if people believe we should spare him, I wanna know.”
“Well, I can tell you it’s a small group--maybe just… me and Glenn.”
“Look I,” Glenn trailed off, “I think you’re pretty much right about everything all the time, but this--”
“They’ve got you scared!” Dale’s voice rose an octave.
“He’s not one of us. And we… we’ve lost too many people already.”
Dale pointed to Hershel and Maggie, “How ‘bout you? Do you agree with this?”
Maggie looked at Rick, “Couldn’t we continue keeping him prisoner?”
“Jus’ another mouth ta feed,” Daryl muttered.
“It may be a lean winter,” the farmer said.
“We could ration better.”
Dale said, “Well, he could be an asset! Give him a chance to prove himself.”
“Put him to work?”
“We’re not letting him walk around,” Rick shook his head.
“We could put an escort on him.”
“Who wants to volunteer for that duty?”
“I don’t think any of us should be walking around with this guy.”
“He’s right. I--I wouldn’t feel safe unless he was tied up.”
“We can’t exactly put chains around his ankles, sentence him to hard labor.”
You crossed your arms, “Then we should kill him.” Everyone looked at you, “Look, if we try and help him, there’s always the chance he runs off. Brings his thirty men. I’m not willing to put my little sister, or Carl, or any of you in that sort of danger. If that means we have to kill him, then we kill him.”
“So the answer is to kill him? To kill him for a crime he might not attempt?”
You looked at Dale, “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you guys.”
His voice rose, “If you do this, you’re saying there’s no hope. Rule of law is dead. There is no civilization.”
“Could you drive him further out? Leave him like you planned?” Hershel asked.
“You barely came back this time,” Lori murmured. “There are Walkers, you could break down. Y-you could get lost.”
“Er get ambushed.” You looked over at Daryl.
Glenn spoke up, “They’re right. We should not put our own people at risk.”
“If you go through with it... “ You glanced at Patricia, “How would you do it? Would he suffer?”
“We could hang ‘im, right?” Shane asked. “Just snap his neck.”
“I thought about that. Shooting may be more humane.”
“And what about the body?” You looked at T-Dog next. “Do we bury him?”
“You’re talking about this like it’s already decided!”
“You’ve been talkin’ all day, goin’ ‘round in circles. You just wanna go ‘round in circles again?” You moved to walk towards Daryl, who glanced at you.
“This is a young man’s life! And it is worth more than a five-minute conversation! Is this what it’s come to? We kill someone because we can’t decide what else to do with him? You saved him… Now look at us. He’s been tortured.” You looked at the hick. “He’s gonna be executed. How are we any better than those people that we’re so afraid of?”
“We all know what needs to be done.”
“No, Dale is right. We can’t leave any stone unturned here. We have a responsibility--”
“To what?” you asked. Rick turned to look at you. “We owe that kid nothing. We fixed him up after he tried. To. Kill. You. There’s no responsibility there. Someone tries to kill you; what do you do? You fight back!”
“Stop it!” Carol called out for the first time. You grit your teeth and looked at her. “I’m sick of everybody arguing and fighting. I didn’t ask for this. You can’t ask us to decide something like this. Please decide. Either of you, both of you. But leave me out.”
“Not speaking out… Or killing him yourself… There’s no difference.”
“Alright, that’s enough. Anybody wants the floor before we make a final decision has the chance.”
After a moment, Dale spoke up, “You once said that we don’t kill the living.”
“Well that was before the living tried to kill us.”
“But don’t you see? If we do this, the people that we were, the--the world that we knew is dead! And this new world, it’s ugly. It’s… harsh! It’s survival of the fittest! And that’s a world I don’t wanna live in. And I don’t believe that any of you do. I can’t! Please. Let’s just do what’s right.” No one spoke up. “Isn’t there anybody else who’s gonna stand with me?”
There was silence.
“He’s right.” Your head shot towards Andrea. “We should try to find another way.”
“Anybody else?” Silence.
Dale scoffed, “Are y’all gonna watch, too? No, you’ll go hide your heads in your tents and try to forget that we’re slaughtering a human being. Whoa…” He started to walk away, “I won’t be a party to it.” As he walked, he pat Daryl on the shoulder. “This group is broken.” Then he walked out of the house.
You shook your head.
She followed Carl out to the barn, listening to the adults. She knew what they needed to do. Even after talking it over with Carl, she knew. They needed to kill the man. He was going to lead people that would hurt her… hurt them to their camp.
When they heard the click of the gun, they stepped around the barn door to get a better look. Margo was no longer affected by the sight of blood. It was almost as if this new world had caused her panic attacks to go away.
When Rick hesitated, Carl said, “Do it, Dad. Do it.”
She nodded, “Please. Do it, Rick. Daryl. Someone do it.”
The leader of their group looked among the other two adults, and Shane walked over to them. “Are you kidding me?” He snatched their arms, pulling them out of the barn. “What did I say to you?”
She looked back when she heard Rick mutter, “Take him away.” Daryl grabbed the kid.
“No, kill him! He’s gonna hurt us!” She reached out, clawing the air as Shane held her back. “He’s gonna hurt us! Daryl, please! Please! He’s gonna hurt sis! He’s gonna hurt Carol! He’s gonna hurt Carl and Lori and Andrea and Dale! He’s gonna hurt you! He’s gonna hurt me! Kill him, Daryl!” He glanced in her direction, but forced the kid up. “Daryl, please!”
When he returned to your camp, he had Margo gripped by the arm. You ran up to her, “Where have you been!? You left!? I’ve been looking up and down, all over! What the fuck, Margo Elizabeth!? What the fuck!?”
“She came ta watch.” You stared at her.
“I… I wanted to make sure that they were going to kill him. I wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t be able to hurt you.”
Your head shot up when you heard the screams. Your pistol was in your hands, and you looked at Margo. “You stay here, no matter what!” Even though you ran, you could hear her footsteps behind you.
When you arrived at the scene, you saw Dale laying on the ground, and your eyes welled up with tears.
There was a Walker beside him, dead.
Daryl took the gun from Rick and ended the old man’s suffering. “Sorry, brother.”
And with a single gunshot, Dale was dead.
END CHAPTER 10