Status: Active
Tonight the World Dies
Ambush.
I play with my fingers as I turn Rick’s offer over in my head. Ignoring Gabriel for a moment, I don’t know these people, and I certainly don’t trust them. It rubs me wrong that Rick would come forward so quickly with an offer of a place in his group. Not only have I not spoken to anyone aside from Rick, I have given these people no reason to trust me—and vice versa. Automatically my mind starts conjuring up ulterior motives Rick may have for asking Gabriel and I to come along, but ultimately I come up with nothing. We have hardly any food left, and all I have for weapons are my handgun and silencer and a hatchet. I have spare bullets, but not nearly enough as I’d like to have.
Sasha, a tall, sleek woman with dark skin, flitters around the group, calling out a name. She passes by me, asking if I’ve seen a man named Bob. I shake my head, not having any clue who this Bob character is. She steps outside and does not come back in for a few moments. When she does, she’s in a panic, and even though I don’t know or trust these people, I shoot to my feet and follow her outside. A man is in an unconscious heap on the ground, and I immediately feel panic shoot through my veins, sending my heart racing. His leg is missing from the knee down, a clean slice that tells me someone had cut it off.
I help Sasha carry the man, who I’ve now learned is the missing man, Bob, into the church towards the office at the back of the building. The others are in a whirlwind of activity, firing questions at Rick so quickly I imagine he must have whiplash. As Sasha and I enter the room, I hear him call out for silence so he can think. Bob is sweating, his leg looks to have been cauterized, but by whom?
Bob stirs on the bench and his eyes flutter open heavily. “Sasha,” he murmurs hoarsely. The woman is by his side with his clammy hand in hers. “This was them.” A sudden realization forces me to step back a little, mind reeling.
After making sure Sasha has everything handled, I sweep from the room, feeling a sudden surge of anger towards this group. Rick is pacing along the stained glass windows, a hand in his curly dark hair. He turns when he sees me storming up to him, and his body posture switches to one of defense.
“You got somethin’ you forgot to tell us?” I seethe. Rick’s jaw clenches beneath his beard. “Is there someone after you? Someone cut off his leg and dumped him outside for you to find. Someone knows you’re here and is following you. And you didn’t think to let us know?”
“First of all, I’m going to need you to calm down,” he starts, and I instantly wonder if he was a cop in a previous life. His eyes turn icy. “Second, yes, we know who did this. But we had no idea they were even still alive, much less following and watching us.”
My curiosity spikes, along with a dire need to know just who the hell we were dealing with. I demand Rick to tell me everything, and by the end, I am back to seething in rage. Rick and his group have led a group of goddamn cannibals right to Gabriel and me. Rick watches as I turn away to start pacing, a hand clenched tightly in my hair. To my own surprise, I believe him when he says they didn’t know they were alive, but I am still too blown away by the fact that a man in the church had his leg cut off and eaten.
“I know you don’t know us, and you don’t trust us.” Rick takes a tentative step forward and holds out his hand, as if to calm me. I’ll admit it kind of does. “But we don’t know how many of them are still alive, and we can use all the help we can get in dealing with them.” By the tone in his voice, I easily determine what he means by dealing with them, and oddly, the thought doesn’t bother me. I give a small, almost imperceptible nod at Rick, and I can physically see his shoulders relax. He turns towards his group, who are still in a panic.
“Listen up! This was the Terminites,” Rick starts, and the expressions on the faces before me contort in rage and fear. “They attacked Bob, so we know they’ve been watching us. We don’t know how many of them are still alive, so we have to be smart about this. I’ve got an idea but I’m not sure how successful it will be. Gather round.”
Rick dives into his plan for getting rid of the people hunting us and I can’t help but think that it’s a smart plan and that it just might work. Gabriel stays behind with Rick’s children and Michonne, the dark-skinned woman with the katana, while the rest of our group heads off into the woods in search of the Terminites. We take up a vantage point far enough away from the church and we wait.
I have my hatchet in my hands, fingers curled tightly until my knuckles turn white. Beside me kneels Abraham. To my left is Rick, and the others wait behind, hidden in the dark by an outcropping of rocks. Through the trees we make out a number of figures—I count eight—as they head towards the church, just shadows against the navy blanket of sky. They file into the church one by one and they leave the door open. Now is our chance.
Swiftly and silently we creep back towards the church, and one raised voice calls out to us from inside the church. Rick makes motions with his hands to have us spread out and then he looks to me. I nod. I am with him. Together we move silently into the church, where the Terminites are searching. A lone man stands at the altar, his voice urging Rick to make his appearance. I keep to the shadows in the corner while Rick straightens and calls out to the man.
They exchange words that I cannot hear due to the sudden rushing of blood in my ears. My heart races beneath my rib cage, threatening to jump from my chest. My hand tightens on my weapon as I hear the others quietly enter the church, and I home in on a single Terminite, a woman with short, choppy hair. I creep behind her as Rick stands in front of the leader, a man I hear him call Gareth. The woman is not expecting me, and so she starts as I wrap my arm around her neck and hold the blade of my hatchet to her throat. The others do the same with their charges, until we have all of these people at knifepoint.
Rick moves first against Gareth, and it quickly becomes a bloodbath. Sounds of struggling, of dying breaths, fill the church as the woman in my arms struggles and breaks free of my grip. She turns wild eyes on me, drawing an impressively large knife from the sheath at her thigh. My hatchet is raised and ready, and I know the others are carefully watching as the woman and I step carefully around one another. Out of the corner of my eye, Rick is hacking away at what remains of Gareth with a machete, his face, beard, and clothes stained with blood. I keep my focus on the woman until she makes the first move.
I dodge her blade and the butt of my hatchet collides hard with her back, throwing her off balance and knocking the wind from her. She stumbles into the pews and uses them for leverage, pushing off to come at me again. My hatchet blocks her knife and I swiftly bring a foot up and press it against her abdomen and shove her backwards. She lands on her ass, her arms flailing, and the knife skitters across the floor. Her eyes have suddenly changed from angry to fearful as she realizes her life is about to end.
“Please,” she begs, “we weren’t always this way. We did what we needed to survive.” I can empathize with her—we’ve all done bad things—but so long as she lives a threat remains.
The hatchet is heavy in my hand as I raise it over my head and bring it down to cleave her skull. The sickening crunch is oddly satisfying, and her eyes are still open but lifeless. The blade is stuck in bone and brain matter, and it takes a great deal of effort for me to free it. When I do, I shake the hatchet of blood, and it paints the wall beside me. The others are breathing hard, and Gabriel has emerged from the office with Carl, who is holding Judith, and Michonne. The priest looks around at the carnage, horror clear on his features. He crosses himself and looks to the ceiling and I have to stop myself from scowling.
Sasha, a tall, sleek woman with dark skin, flitters around the group, calling out a name. She passes by me, asking if I’ve seen a man named Bob. I shake my head, not having any clue who this Bob character is. She steps outside and does not come back in for a few moments. When she does, she’s in a panic, and even though I don’t know or trust these people, I shoot to my feet and follow her outside. A man is in an unconscious heap on the ground, and I immediately feel panic shoot through my veins, sending my heart racing. His leg is missing from the knee down, a clean slice that tells me someone had cut it off.
I help Sasha carry the man, who I’ve now learned is the missing man, Bob, into the church towards the office at the back of the building. The others are in a whirlwind of activity, firing questions at Rick so quickly I imagine he must have whiplash. As Sasha and I enter the room, I hear him call out for silence so he can think. Bob is sweating, his leg looks to have been cauterized, but by whom?
Bob stirs on the bench and his eyes flutter open heavily. “Sasha,” he murmurs hoarsely. The woman is by his side with his clammy hand in hers. “This was them.” A sudden realization forces me to step back a little, mind reeling.
After making sure Sasha has everything handled, I sweep from the room, feeling a sudden surge of anger towards this group. Rick is pacing along the stained glass windows, a hand in his curly dark hair. He turns when he sees me storming up to him, and his body posture switches to one of defense.
“You got somethin’ you forgot to tell us?” I seethe. Rick’s jaw clenches beneath his beard. “Is there someone after you? Someone cut off his leg and dumped him outside for you to find. Someone knows you’re here and is following you. And you didn’t think to let us know?”
“First of all, I’m going to need you to calm down,” he starts, and I instantly wonder if he was a cop in a previous life. His eyes turn icy. “Second, yes, we know who did this. But we had no idea they were even still alive, much less following and watching us.”
My curiosity spikes, along with a dire need to know just who the hell we were dealing with. I demand Rick to tell me everything, and by the end, I am back to seething in rage. Rick and his group have led a group of goddamn cannibals right to Gabriel and me. Rick watches as I turn away to start pacing, a hand clenched tightly in my hair. To my own surprise, I believe him when he says they didn’t know they were alive, but I am still too blown away by the fact that a man in the church had his leg cut off and eaten.
“I know you don’t know us, and you don’t trust us.” Rick takes a tentative step forward and holds out his hand, as if to calm me. I’ll admit it kind of does. “But we don’t know how many of them are still alive, and we can use all the help we can get in dealing with them.” By the tone in his voice, I easily determine what he means by dealing with them, and oddly, the thought doesn’t bother me. I give a small, almost imperceptible nod at Rick, and I can physically see his shoulders relax. He turns towards his group, who are still in a panic.
“Listen up! This was the Terminites,” Rick starts, and the expressions on the faces before me contort in rage and fear. “They attacked Bob, so we know they’ve been watching us. We don’t know how many of them are still alive, so we have to be smart about this. I’ve got an idea but I’m not sure how successful it will be. Gather round.”
Rick dives into his plan for getting rid of the people hunting us and I can’t help but think that it’s a smart plan and that it just might work. Gabriel stays behind with Rick’s children and Michonne, the dark-skinned woman with the katana, while the rest of our group heads off into the woods in search of the Terminites. We take up a vantage point far enough away from the church and we wait.
I have my hatchet in my hands, fingers curled tightly until my knuckles turn white. Beside me kneels Abraham. To my left is Rick, and the others wait behind, hidden in the dark by an outcropping of rocks. Through the trees we make out a number of figures—I count eight—as they head towards the church, just shadows against the navy blanket of sky. They file into the church one by one and they leave the door open. Now is our chance.
Swiftly and silently we creep back towards the church, and one raised voice calls out to us from inside the church. Rick makes motions with his hands to have us spread out and then he looks to me. I nod. I am with him. Together we move silently into the church, where the Terminites are searching. A lone man stands at the altar, his voice urging Rick to make his appearance. I keep to the shadows in the corner while Rick straightens and calls out to the man.
They exchange words that I cannot hear due to the sudden rushing of blood in my ears. My heart races beneath my rib cage, threatening to jump from my chest. My hand tightens on my weapon as I hear the others quietly enter the church, and I home in on a single Terminite, a woman with short, choppy hair. I creep behind her as Rick stands in front of the leader, a man I hear him call Gareth. The woman is not expecting me, and so she starts as I wrap my arm around her neck and hold the blade of my hatchet to her throat. The others do the same with their charges, until we have all of these people at knifepoint.
Rick moves first against Gareth, and it quickly becomes a bloodbath. Sounds of struggling, of dying breaths, fill the church as the woman in my arms struggles and breaks free of my grip. She turns wild eyes on me, drawing an impressively large knife from the sheath at her thigh. My hatchet is raised and ready, and I know the others are carefully watching as the woman and I step carefully around one another. Out of the corner of my eye, Rick is hacking away at what remains of Gareth with a machete, his face, beard, and clothes stained with blood. I keep my focus on the woman until she makes the first move.
I dodge her blade and the butt of my hatchet collides hard with her back, throwing her off balance and knocking the wind from her. She stumbles into the pews and uses them for leverage, pushing off to come at me again. My hatchet blocks her knife and I swiftly bring a foot up and press it against her abdomen and shove her backwards. She lands on her ass, her arms flailing, and the knife skitters across the floor. Her eyes have suddenly changed from angry to fearful as she realizes her life is about to end.
“Please,” she begs, “we weren’t always this way. We did what we needed to survive.” I can empathize with her—we’ve all done bad things—but so long as she lives a threat remains.
The hatchet is heavy in my hand as I raise it over my head and bring it down to cleave her skull. The sickening crunch is oddly satisfying, and her eyes are still open but lifeless. The blade is stuck in bone and brain matter, and it takes a great deal of effort for me to free it. When I do, I shake the hatchet of blood, and it paints the wall beside me. The others are breathing hard, and Gabriel has emerged from the office with Carl, who is holding Judith, and Michonne. The priest looks around at the carnage, horror clear on his features. He crosses himself and looks to the ceiling and I have to stop myself from scowling.
♠ ♠ ♠
Thoughts?