Better Angels

I heard my pulse thudding behind my ears, heart pounding dramatically.

There were footsteps around outside the door, passing, going to the right, back to the left, then pausing in front of the door. I cussed myself out for not locking this door as well, I look up at the handle above my head. The lock flat instead of pointed up.

The footsteps went away and faded, I heard a distant voice, but couldn't make out what they were saying.

I sigh a little in relief, but go right back to holding my breath again, finger ready on the trigger of the gun my mom had let me borrow about a week and a half ago, I'd never gotten around to giving it back, and now I'm glad.

"I don't know where she went, Briggs."

The voice startled me, appearing right outside the door, I scooted back a little, my hand hitting a broom leant against the wall and it fell faster than I could catch it, and it clattered against the concrete.

Sweat gathered on my palms, making them slick and my forehead dewed up.

"Think we found her." A voice says, not the same as the one I'd heard before.

The door yanks open and dim light washes in over me and Jack, there is nowhere left to hide, I raise my gun, clar my head and steady my voice, though I am horrified.

"Get the fuck back or I will shoot you." I snarl.

"Well, Jason, isn't this cute?" The man with the black beard says, leaning forward and planting his palms onto his knees to be at eyes level with me.

I assume this man's name is Briggs, as Jason has called him eariler.

I glare, safety's off and there's no going back from here. I point it right at his head, between his narrowed brown eyes, right where Dad told me to shoot if I ever have to.

"She and her horse jammed into a closet, and her Tommy gun to defend her."

He grins, his teeth yellowed.

"Watch her for a second, I'm gonna piss."

He straightens up and goes to the corner.

Jason plants himself in front of me, his face just as emotionless as Briggs. I know what comes next beyond this. And I know that if they succeed, I will never see Daryl or Jackson again. Or the rest of my family, Jaden, mom, dad and Myriah.

Be brave.

I remind myself, looking over quickly to make sure Briggs is still busy, then I lift the gun quickly and drive the bullet through Jason's skull.

The bang makes my ears ring because we are in such a small space, Jason slumps onto the ground a bloody mess, and Brigg's zips his fly, spinning in surprise, his eys gluing onto his dead comrad, her runs at me, I have another bullet ready, but I miss.

The second shot echos like the first, and it makes contact with his upper shoulder, he screams in agony and grips it as it drips, I get up and hit him in the forehead with the gun hard, he falters a little and slips on Jason's blood.

He falls on his back, and suddenly, I feel brutal. I feel like a girl who's ment to live in this world. Not the one who is going to be wearing a pretty white dress in a few days and ran away for wanting to kiss someone.

I straddle his waist and bring the gun down again against his face, again and then a third time. His cheek is split open and his mouth is bleeding. He chokes a little and then his breathing stops.

I stare down at him for a second, backing off him, my hand landing in Jason's cold puddle of blood.

I panic, looking at the gore, sprayed across the walls and ceiling. I killed two men, two men... With my bare hands...

I am a monster. I am no better than those thoughtlessly killing walkers, no better than the hunters out there, no better than anyone else who has ever killed anyone. Even if it was for the right reason.

I stand, there is blood on my boots and up my arms. On my shoulders and probabaly on my face as well.

I gasp, it turns into a wild sob as I look at them. Part of me, the good half, wants to bury them. The other half, my bitter side, wants to leave them to rot.

I grab Jack's lead and we run out of that cellar, I mount the second all hooves are on grass and we jump the fence, running all the way home.



I couldn't help myself, as soon as I'd put some distance between me and that dairy, the tears welled up and fell, shimmering in my eyes and blinding me, it's a good thing Jack knows how to find his way home.

I don't want to see anyone. I don't want to admit what I've done. That I'm a brutal killer, will they accept me all the same?

My stomach does nervous flops and we get closer, the tents of the Missourian camp are set back up along the southern fence, we speed up and Jack launches over it, it is eleven o'clock. Lunch is usually at this time of day.

There are a few people form Mike's group graining around their camp before lunch, they look after me while I gallop towards the yard, fighting to stop the tears.

I can't be seen as weak. I cannot be seen as strong. I'll be looked down upon with wary eyes for either.

There are more people around the Atlanta group's camp, Dale waves at me as I ride by.

I try to force a smile, but it contorts into one of pain, what have I done? It haunts me.

Everyone comes outside, gathers around, but I don't want the attention.

"There you are Aries, Daryl was just about to look for you."

I turn around to see my mom "No!" I exclaim "He can't go out there, it isn't safe! He hasn't left yet, has he?"

Mom give me a confused look.

"I'm right here."

I look over my shoulder as Daryl comes through the crowd, crossbow hanging on his back crookedly, his eyes widen a little in concern "The hell happened to you?"

Truth or lie?

"I, I ran into a group of men." I choked it out, everyone looks so worried, Daryl grabs my left forearm "Did they?..."

I shake my head, "No, no. Walkers got them."

"Where the hell were you?" Daryl asks roughly.

"I just went for a ride." I said as calmly as possible, but his eyes are blazing.

"To fuckin' where? If there are walkers around, we need to know."

I look down. "There's a dairy five miles south of that watering hole we found last week, that's where they were, the walkers too."

"Why were you there?" My mom asks, brushing my arm with her fingertips.

"Supplies, I thought maybe while I was ut, that I could at least be useful."

"Killin' yerself ain't helpful, Aries." Daryl grunted, releasing my arm. I just drop it back at my side.

He studies my face as his eyes narrow suspiciously, but he says nothing.

I see Jackson over Darl's right shoulder, glaring daggers into the back of his head.

"And yelling at her is?" He demands, stepping around Daryl to stand eye to eye with him, they are the same height, blue angery eyes fused into matching green ones. I thought for a second they were going to hit each other, but instead Daryl pulls his crossbow from his back "I'm going on watch."

He grunts, walking away, I look after him, drowning out the questions and concerns around me, I feel numb, I lied to them. These people, that trust me, but I can't trust them enough with the truth. I remind myself why I'm doing it, I don't want them to be afraid.

I walk to the RV with Maggie, we walk right by Myriah, she grabs my arm "What happened?"

I shrug "I'm not to sure myself."

I sit at the table, while Maggie scrubs the blood off my arms, I pick at the stuff under my nails, anything to avoid eye contact.

"You've got a bit on your face." She says, standing and dabbing my face with a damp cloth.

"That's odd..." He murmurs, I look up at her.

"What?"

"You've got a scratch across your cheek, looks like a fingernail, how close did they get to you?"

I panick and cannot think of a realistic answer. "Not that close." I mentally curse myself.

She nods and drops it, it makes me wonder if that's what Daryl saw on my face earlier, I bite my lip until I taste blood, I'm not sure how long this is going to remain a secret.

I sigh and look out the window. Maybe not forever...



Today it had warmed up enough for them to set up tents again, and everyone moved out of the house, I found out that Daryl never slept in a tent prior to the house living, he slept in the truck, or in the truck bed, he'd play rock paper scissors with Merle for it.

Merle was doing better, it was good to see some positivity. But since that tents were just and so were the other camps again, I slept alone. No one to talk to, no one to come clean to, and the worst part? Well there were two worst parts. One: That I had lied to them through my teeth, which will take a nice chunk out of my trust meter. Two: I never apologized to Myriah. I couldn't find the right words to say, so I ended up just trashing the conversation, putting it off until tomorrow.

I know I'm tired, especially since I didn't sleep much last night, tonight I couldn't either, I couldn't slose my eyes, I was restless.

The dance was in five days, but I'd put it on the back burner, being pretty and a good dancer for it all was the least of my troubles.

The troubles... I'm facing more now, lots of stress, so many people to look after, take care of, hunt enough food for and to protect. And then plenty of relationship stress, Jackson, he's sweet. And Daryl is just plain out arrogant sometimes, about as moody as a menustral woman everyday.

While I have picked out the nice people and the moody people from the two groups that have joined us since September fifth, I have failed to really socailize with any of them. The one's I spend the most of my time with is Daryl, Maggie and Beth. Sometimes Glenn too.

Dale is nice, very observant and sometimes called nosy by Andrea and Shane. Andrea is kind of an independant woman, believes that she can take care of herself more than anyone else wants to believe.

Rick, Lori, Carol and Hershel were mainly the people I didn't talk to much, guess I can't relate to them well.

Merle and I stand on the line between friends and enemies, I'm not all too sure about that relationship.

As for the Torrington and Missouri group, they are pretty evadable all together, I don't talk to Jacob much, or Liam, even Jacob's younger brothers. They're all pretty distant. However, I do talk to Ellice almost daily, she's a sort of homemaker woman, early twenties with a useless degree in art, and she knows how to make soap, knit, organize and cook from scratch, she is a valuable asset to the group.

I fall asleep pretty quickly, but I still dream of a nightmare...

Daryl, Jackson, Myriah and Maggie, they are tied up, bound to posts, writhing against the ropes and screaming at something, screaming at me.

I stand, in the center of them, I turn, and there is someone there, a tall black figure. His head bowed slightly, he wears a cowboy hat that shadows most of his face, he smirks, and looks up, a black beard scribbled across his face, yet somehow he looks unharmed from what I'd done earlier.

Briggs walks towards me, so dreadingly slow that I cringe, already feeling the impact. I killed him once... Now I must do it again.

But once he gets to be five feet away, he draws his gun, and fires four times, pivoting around as he does. Each bullet makes contact, square in the chest of all four of them.

Daryl, Jackson, Myriah and Maggie, sag, heads bowed forward, I choke on a scream, I could not save them. The grief and guilt builds up inside me, like pressure, but I cannot do anything, I cannot react.



I shouldn't be to surprised, that I lied awake for the remander of the night, staring at the ceiling, looking for something to calm me down, but still my pulse hammers away, my breaths are heavy and no matter how much I toss and turn, I cannot find a comfortable position for my back.

The scratches sting, healing ever so slowly, and reminding me of the sacrifices I already have made for this group. The only difference?... That I didn't take those claws for the good of the group, I didn't embrace it. It was an accident, self defence. My family, my group and my friends were the last thing on my mind as I killed that lion and got attacked.

I sigh, the breath wheezing out is shaky and it makes me feel faint.

I finally sit up and check my watch: 5:52.

I inhale a deep breath again, I lean to the left a little to see out the window to the roof of the shed, where someone stands, a gun in their hands, facing north.

I squint a little, the figure is tall, and as I think back, we don't have any extremely tall men or women in this group. I see the blue lawnchair up their too, making out the silhouette of another person, they are talking, the tall figure shifts, leans forward a little and suddenly, it's all so fast, his hand flies out, toward the other figure, right to his forehead, and he slumps.

I gasp. Joke or reality? My breath hitches, then flies into overdrive panic mode.

I am out of bed in an instant, jogging down the steps barefoot, I can't be sure if I really saw what I think I saw, but I have to be sure.

When I get to the ground floor, I grab my bow and arrows of the back of a kitchen chair, and I strain to see out the front window, but the shed is hidden behind a few tree branches from the backyard.

I turn and run for my parents bedroom.

"Mom, Dad! Get up, get up!" I grab my dad's arm and drag him out of bed.

"Ugh, Aries, what are you doing...?" He mumbles.

"There's someone outside!" I say, panicked.

He opens his eyes wider "Who?"

"I don't know! They were on the roof, killed the watchman."

I have no idea who was on watch last night, I remember Daryl going on around twelve, for who knows how long. He wouldn't let his guard down like that though... It can't be Daryl, Daryl isn't dead.

Dad pulls on his boots and jacket, mom is stirring out of bed too, I run down the hall and look out the window, the lighting is dim, as the sun is just rising, I see something slumping across the yard.

Then two more figures emerging from behind the shed, this isn't good.

I check for my gun and knife, and wait anxiously for dad to join me, then we slip outside.

"I'll try and get Rick." I whisper, looking across the yard, at the grouping of tents, the blue and white tent is where he sleeps.

Dad nods, I'm surprised that he agrees, so I move quickly. We haven't got much time.

I duck, and move behind the pickup parked a few feet from the porch, I peek out behind it, just as the figures enter their camp, slowly moving around the tents, indicating to each other by pointing at certain tents, then making different symbols and directions in the air.

I look to the right, and in come two men on horses. Buckskin horses.

I get down, and start crouching, moving slowly across the yard, biting my lip until it bleeds, hands slick with sweat and I am built of panic.

I have seven yards left until I am in their camp, my every movement is hardly more than a shift.

I finally just dart across, then drop into a mud puddle behind a green tent, squeezing my eyes shut and praying no one saw me. I hear no shouts of recognization, so I turn around a little and pull down the zipper of the green tent. Glenn and Maggie sleep inside.

I clamber in and half zip the door up again, I shake Glenn's shoulder.

"Glenn!" I hiss and quietly as I can, looking over my shoulder in panic, I'm wasting valuable seconds.

I shake his arm harder.

"Wha?..." He mumbles, half looking up at me.

"Glenn, get up, we've got trouble." I warned him quietly.

"Walkers?" He hisses back, he sounds a little more awake now.

"No, hunters, a group of them." I say "I think they killed the watchman."

Glenn gets up and pulls on his jeans and boots just as I exit their tent and move onto the next.

I wake T-Dog and Carol as I pass by their tents, translating the same message and then moving onto the next, the next tent is Ricks'.

I go in, it is bigger than the others, but then again there are three people sleeping in here too. Carl, Rick and Lori.

I crouch by Rick and Lori's cot, shaking his arm. "Rick get up, we need your help. Rick!" I hissed.

His eyes open slightly "What's going on?"

"We have a group of hunters passing through, they are around the tents. Arm yourself, I'm going to pass around the message, you should too."

He nods and is out of bed in a second, getting dressed as I move on back outside, getting down, I have mud caked all over my boots and jeans.

I go towards the RV, but freeze in my tracks when a hunter rounds the front, holding a gun, he quietly opens the RV door and slips in.

I go into overdrive and hurry towards the door, going in after him, I draw my knife.

It's dark inside, so it takes my eyes a second to adjust. I squint at a figure, hovering over Dale, and Andrea sleeps in the back. He hasn't noticed her yet.

I move forward, inching towards the man, gripping my knife handle tightly, I raise it slightly. He has his own knife, raised right above Dale's forehead.

He brings it down. And a spurt of angry energy runs through my veins.

"No!" I shout and jump at him, his knife clatters on the tile and he fights back.

"Andrea! Dale, get up!" I shout, struggling to pin him down.

I raise the knife, swallow my humanity and bring it down onto his face hard. Blood spills from the cut a little.

Andrea stirs "What's going on?" She mumbles, sitting up.

"We've got hunters, get dressed, I have no idea how many of them there are." She nods and wakes Dale, I go outside, noticing the blood shimmering silver on my palms.

I wipe them on my jeans, now is no time to by sympathetic. These people chose their own deaths when they decided to try to kill and rob us all.

I move forward, the camp is quiet, except for two men I see milling around Shane's tent. I dart towards Daryl's pickup when I remember what he said about him and Merle playing rock paper scissors for who has to sleep in the bed.

I grab the side and pull myself up enough to look in back, Merle sleeps there.

"Merle wake up, it's go time." I shake him awake and he doesn't fight me or call me a liar, instead he goes into some kind of "Protect the group" mode and gets his gun and knife.

I see seven more men walking around the yard, and as I look around, I cound at least twelve heavily armed men. And on the roof of the shed is a man, pacing up and down, sporting the sniper rifle we keep up there.

I have no plans, I don't know what I should do, I just know that low profile killing is in everyone's best interest, and less injuries will be inflicted on the groups inhabitants.

The Torrington and Missouri group are still oblivious to the hunters, I hop out of the truck bed and half jog, half crouch the whole way down, I trip over a piece of fire wood, and fall into a puddle.

Splash![/b

A few on the hunters that were on their way down look at me, and then there are shouts, pointing and most of all, a halo of bullets raining around me while I push myself off the ground and fucking run, run as fast as I can for the camp.

The gunfire has alerted everyone else, and they are dead set on shooting me. I run in a zig zag line to avoid fire, and when I get close enough, I yell "EVERYONE GET YOUR ASSES UP! GET A WEAPON! PROTECT YOURSELVES!"

I run into the camp and yell warnings, there is movement, I move onto the Torrington group's camp. Shouting the same thing, I run up the hill with bullets lacing the ground as I jump, narrowly missing the sharp projectiles, I am out of breath, my heart is beating so fast I feel like I could collapse, I stumble a little but keep going, shouting to draw the attention to me, so the others can get ready to fight back, I see Rick, I run riht by Shane, and Hershel and Beth are running for the shed.

I see Maggie and Glenn, Dale and Andrea, all my family, Lori and Carl, Carol and Sophia, Merle and... No one.

I don't see Daryl anywhere.

There are bullets flying everywhere, I find my job to be getting the hunters to waste all their bullets, then they will be weaker targets, I'm running through groups of terrified people, fighting back, but these hunters are far more advanced then I'd imagined.

I run and stumble a little, I hear the gallop of hooves, a scream, and then an explosion...

I'm dizzy, disoriented as I push myself up off the ground, the air is foggy now, smoke bombs. My ears are ringing and I can't see much, I'm fighting through when I hear a horses whinny, and suddenly, I'm being shoved onto the ground.

I roll over and shove at their chest, their foggy features unfamilar until he leans forward.

Muscular build, black mustache and narrowed eyes. He wears a cowboy hat and laughs wildly.

"Well isn't this something!?" He chortles "Look who I found." He looks fairly interested in this, I shove, but he is heavy, hovering.

"Oh don't worry, darlin' I just want to get even." He assures. Pulling out his gun, I look at his face, almost laughing at how is looks, his right eye is black and swollen. He has a gash across his right cheek and two of his teeth are missing, he has numerous bruises across his face.

And when he says "Get even..." It concerns me that he means that way of even, he raises his gun, but doesn't bring it down on my face the way I expect.

Instead I hear a scream, boiling in agony, reaching for the stars and so sharp it could melt your ears from your head, my eyes sqeeze shut and I find the brute force to shove him off and I roll over onto my side, gipping my shoulder tighly, I gasp in pain, I guess that's how even he meant...

"Don't feel so great, does it?" He sneers, I roll over slightly, and glare at his face, his grin triumphant, and suddenly he falls backwards, I look over, the smoke and pain making my eyes water, I see a figure, tall, moving towards me.

I'd admit this was death, but it's not... I wasn't hit that bad.

His face becomes clear, he has dark brown hair hanging in his eyes, blue eyes. His pale lips locked in a grimace.

He kneels beside me and briefly examines my shoulder, I glare into the foggy sky biting my lip.

"Come on, let's go."

He gets onto my left side and lifts me up, my arm draped over his shoulder, he grabs his arrow from Briggs's forehead before he stands, scooping me up into his arms with a huff, I get my gun with my good arm, and as we brave the fog, I shoot two men.

"I think that's all of them!" I hear Rick's voice, but I can't see him.

"Good." Daryl mutters, and he sets me down onto my feet, my arm still draped over his left shoulder, we hobble along into the yard, wary eyes everywhere. Are we actually safe?

We all regroup in the front yard, everyone is wearing the same mask of dispair, I look around and realize we are missing some people.

Hershel, Maggie, Dale and Andrea.

"Where are the others?" I ask, but no one answers, their eyes mourning, and I fear the worst.

Daryl begins to guide us away- towards the white medical tent and I wait for my fears to become real. He pauses outside the door.

"Dale was... It's not good. There was a lone walker, came in south. Where no one was looking, got him."

I can't stop the panic from spreading through me like fire on paper, Dale is bitten.

"How bad?" I can hardly whisper it."

"He's not going to make it."

Who'd think that the last time I'd see him, I'd just stabbed a hunter dead on his RV floor, whilst he was sleeping.

"I want to see him."

"I don't think you do." Daryl states, eyes narrowing.

He didn't say it like he thinks I'm lying, but as though it's too bad for me. I still want to see him. I drop my arms at my sides again, and look up at Daryl's face, not really any emotion present.

I turn to face the tent, the two dirt stained white flaps seperating me from something so horrific, that it could change the way I think and am forever.

I look back at Daryl, all he does is nod, and I take a deep breath and head in.

It was as bad as Daryl had said, and worse than I'd imagined.

Dale laid on the one cot, against the south wall of the tent, His face pale, he was sweating like mad, and as my eyes moved down his body, I saw the bite. It was much less a bite than it was a chunk torn from his body.

His stomach was mostly gone, guts and gore, blood staining his shirt, it was almost too much for me.

I wince, but look at him, his breaths heavy, Andrea is crouched by his side, talking to him quietly. Maggie and Hershel are standing beside the north wall, anxiously glancing over at Dale, discussing something.

Dale winces, his face contorting in pain, and Andrea looks at Hershel in panic "He's suffering!"

Rick walks into the tent, and his face is pale as well, no one has any other emotion than pain.

"Please, Rick...." Dale can hardly speak, his weak voice makes my lip tremble and my throat tighten.

Rick pulls out his revolver, and I know what's next. He points it at Dale... But doesn't pull the trigger. His face falls... And he can't do it.

Daryl comes in, and takes us all in, he looks at Rick and what he's about to do, but can't.

"Give it ere'." He says in a low rough voice, he takes the revolver from Rick's frozen hand and points it at Dale without hesitation.

"Sorry brother." He says, with some kind of sympathy in his voice, he pulls the trigger. And that's all anyone can hear, the echo of the bang, even after it's gone, and Dale has gone with it.