In the Sound

They were executing Randall tonight.

I didn't know when. Maybe seconds. Minutes. Hours. Watching was taboo.

Every single person in the group carried on like nothing had ever happened. Like nothing was going to happen. But I knew. I knew that when the shot sounded through the house, a shiver would follow. A boy was going to die tonight. A boy.

And what was worse, I could've called him a friend once. My Dad's face flashed over my mind. He'd look at me, scruffy face and all. And maybe I'd see some disappointment flicker across his eyes, but something else too. Understanding. He got me like that.

Lori's fingers tickled softly over the back of my neck. She weaved my hair around into a tight plait. Her knuckles grazed my skin with every criss cross. We sat in Herschel's lounge room, shins pressing onto the rug. It was fluffy against my rough legs.

"Darlin, when's the last time your Mama did this?"

"Never," I replied. Never even knew my Mum. Hell, probably never even had my hair in plaits before. Somehow I couldn't imagine a tight ass cop plaiting an eight year old's hair. "Don't really remember the lady, if I'm being honest."

There was a slight tense behind me. In that moment I wished I hadn't said anything. Her lean, wiry fingers were frozen. I expected her to scramble away with a mess of apologies. But she went back to her weaving with a quiet, "oh."

She attempted to brush the ends of the plait. I whimpered a little as she did.

"You won't get it to look any more civil than this. That, I can promise."

"Well," she said evenly, "I don't deny that. Groomin's a luxury these days. I live for those showers every few days. Sometimes even more! I don't want Carl to get those bad habits."
That earnt a laugh from me. "Lori, I haven't had a shower in over a week now. Look at me. I'm still alive an' kicking."

A dark figure flashed across the arched doorway. Another smaller one followed just as quickly. Soft thudding of footsteps. The creak of a door. Out the patio. Lori's head snapped up like someone just put a knife to her throat.

"Carl," Lori warned. Her jaw turned to me for a moment, her tone low, "I don't want him goin' out there."

Lori held a hand over her little belly bump, her other hand slowly pushing herself up. I waved my palms at her, ushering her back down.

"He's alright, Kit's with him. You need'a stay put. I'll bring 'em back."

With that, Lori settled back down onto the rug. After slipping my hands beneath my thighs, I heaved myself to a stand. A grateful smile sat on her lips. I returned it, trying not to glance at her stomach and imagine the fetus balled up in there.

I scrambled for the front door, feeling my plait bobbing up and down between my shoulder blades. When I reached the screen door I peeked into the darkness carefully.

Sure enough, Carl was peddling across the fields. Kit was just ahead of him, resting on the grass and waiting for him to catch up. As I opened the screen door to step out onto the porch, my eyes lifted up to see where they were running to. Carl wasn't discrete. Just ahead of him was the shadow of the looming barn. There were bright orange lights shining from inside. The light cast out the windows and rained around the barn's walls.

It clicked for me.

Randall. Execution. Now.

Before I knew it, I was racing over the porch. The cold night air bit my face harshly. My fingers were instantly numb. My feet made quick little movements down the stairs. On the final stair, I risked a leap onto the grass. It was bigger than expected. Big enough to make me stumble a good way out.

I felt my ankle roll, but the adrenaline had already surged me.

"Carl! Stop!" I shouted desperately. But my voice caught against the cold air. Shaky and weak.
One peer upwards told me he hadn't heard me. I pushed harder. Faster. My legs leaping forward with every push off of the grassy floor. Closer and closer. I'd covered the distance in half the time they had. My heart thumping viciously inside my chest. There was an odd feeling in my stomach that made it ache.

"Stop!" I shrieked again. This time, my voice carried. Or maybe it was just because I'd almost reached them.

Kit's ears perked up at the sound, his snout flickering around in search of me. His eyes locked and he lowered himself further into the grass. Almost hiding. Waiting for my wrath.

I snarled at him, "Stay put. Do you hear me?"

He whined a little at that.

My lips molded back into a nervous frown. Carl's ears had blocked my voice out completely. He now stood in the opening of the barn. The large wooden doors had been peeled back. I couldn't see inside, but I could hear hushed voices inside.

"Carl," this time my voice was soft and careful. I didn't want to gather the attention of the others.
But again, the kid didn't look. His eyes were glued to whoever was in the barn, his lips set open just a little bit. The light illuminated his face like he was peering inside a treasure box.

Cautiously, I tip toed closer to him. I held my arms out, ready to catch him and steer him away in time. I was ready, until I heard it.

Spoken in a desperate whimper.

My name.

I stopped less than a metre away from Carl. Weakly, my knees gave way. They landed with a soft plop into the barn mud. My jeans were getting caked in the stuff. I shut my eyes tightly, willing it to go away. That wasn't my name. Not mine.

But then he said it again. Clarity coming to his hoarse tone.

"Nora, you there too? Ya gotta help me. No, no. Please no. I aint a bad person. I aint bad."

Slowly, my neck twisted around so that I stared inside the barn too. Randall was at his knees, his hands bound behind his back. His head was bowed and defeated, and a string of beggings and apologies were wriggling out of his mouth. My heart was hammering now, driving me insane. My fingers trembled. Lips quivered. This wasn't right. I couldn't watch this. It wasn't right.

Rick stood over him, gun cocked and aimed squarley at Randall's head. Daryl and Shane looked on.
Carl murmured something so quiet beside me that I barely caught it.

"Do it Dad," he urged. "Do it."

In two seconds, all eyes snapped to us. Rick's dark eyes bore into Carl's face first, then the gun in his grip.

It snatched me out of whatever frozen state I was in. Hastily, I turned to Carl and swept my hands over his eyes. My other arm snaked around his back so he couldn't writhe hard enough out of my grasp.

Shane was the first to move. He hurried over to Carl in such a haste that I was pushed to the side. A scowl lined at Shane's jaw. Rick's stare was still hard on the two of them. I rested a hand over my chest, feeling the little pumping slow a little. They hadn't heard Randall say my name. I was safe.

Except one. Only one set of eyes were on me.

I looked up and met them. Daryl was staring at me with a look I'd never seen before. A glimmer of confusion rest there. Maybe suspicioun? Accusation? It was strong and intense. Even when he started hauling Randall away from the barn, I knew. He'd realised. Realised that Randall knew me.

I was in deep shit.