Jon knelt on one knee at the edge of a man-made clearing. Trees with thick, bulbous canopies watched over him. Their leaves were scraping the ground as the midnight wind howled between their trunks.
“Go, boy,” Jon said.
Ghost was sitting in front of Jon with his head held high. His pupils constricted into sharp pinpoints. Moonlight conformed to the crimson of his eyes and brightened what white remained of his mud-and-blood-stained coat.
Jon pressed their brows together. “Eat. You’ll be no use to me hungry and tired.”
Ghost’s eyes softened. They closed. Jon closed his. Their hearts beat as one.
“Hunt.”
The warmth of Ghost’s shaggy coat left Jon’s brow. The wind howled. Jon opened his eyes and found himself alone with the forgotten monsters of steel, glass, and rubber. He approached one, ran his hand down the length of its steel neck, and marvelled at its scoop. The claw-like device was embedded in the bottom of a pit. A mound of dirt as tall as Jon sat beside the pit.
The other monster slumbered a few feet away, resting on the treads of a tank. Where a tank was green, it was yellow. Dirt piled up against its plough-like blade. A barren strip of dirt stretched out behind it, down the slope of the clearing. The strip was as flat as an asphalt road.
The machine monstrosities of this world never failed to take Jon’s breath away. Oh, what he would have given to have had a few on The Wall. If things were better, he wouldn’t have dared leave them behind. Alas, things were as they were. The monsters would sleep a little longer.
One day…
Jon descended the clearing with a brisk, timely stride. The proud silver light of the midnight moon robbed a grass carpet of its colour. It glistened like ice, speckled white and red with azaleas. Try as it might, the proud moon could not best the flowers; the flowers defied her, while the grass, the forest, the monsters, and the half-built cabin all conformed to her colours, to a uniform shade of pale silver. The flowers glistened white and red like dots of snow and blood.
Nessy was grazing amongst them, silver rather than brown. She spared Jon a glance. The moonlight gleamed in her eyes for a fraction of a moment before she returned to her meal.
Jon slowed his stride to a crawl as he approached the one and only completed wall of the half-built cabin. It loomed over him. Moonlight robbed it of texture and form. Shuffling feet, tools clinking, and hushed whispers were muted by the wind’s tantrum.
Jon was sucking in air to whistle the return signal when Bloodbeak swooped from the half-built cabin’s frame. His wings fanned, braced against the childish wind, and ground him to a halt half a foot above Jon’s head. Like a stone, he dropped onto Jon’s shoulder and eyed the bulbous wall of trees. Bobbing his head, he rasped an imitation of a man’s laugh.
The nuisance bird settled into his newfound perch as Jon whistled the four notes of the return signal.
“Pww-iii Pww-iii”
The wind swallowed the camp’s newfound silence.
“Who’s there?” Rick asked.
“Jon.”
“Come in.”
Silence faded as Jon stepped over the half-built log cabin’s stone foundation. He stalked through their tiny camp; hobbled-together blankets, sleeping bags and pillows that huddled around a meagre campfire. Glenn and Maggie shared hushed whispers as they held one another atop their sleeping bags; Lori and Jenner were bickering over a list. By the fire, Daryl fletched bolts and Carol sharpened her knife in the light of a sickly fire. Hershel poked the flames with a stick. Beth tossed slices of potatoes into a bubbling pot. Huddled in a corner, alone, Bowen stroked Doreen the blind donkey’s back, and his greatsword lay at his feet still stuck inside its scabbard.
Rick watched over them all. The fire’s light illuminated his face and painted shadows in the valleys of infant wrinkles. Its flickering orange glow barred the moonlight entry into the little camp. Their eyes met as Jon approached. Rick offered a curt nod and placed his hand on Carl’s head. The lad sat at his feet cleaning a handgun.
“Has Tyreese returned?” Jon asked
“Not yet. Soon.”
“And if he’s run off?”
Rick sighed. “That’s his mistake to make. We can’t afford to trudgin’ through the woods. Not now at least.”
Shane at the bottom of the half-built cabin’s steps, swathed in Rick’s shadow. He grunted. “We need a patrol.”
Rick scowled. “When Tyreese returns.”
“Don’t think the walkers give a shit if Tyreese is here or not.”
“Shut up,” Carl said.
“Don’t speak like that, Carl,” Rick said.
Carl looked away. “Sorry…”
Rick patted the lad’s head. “I’ve got somethin’ to say that everyone needs to hear. I’ll assign patrol after.”
“Whatever,” Shane muttered.
Beyond Shane’s silhouette, a palisade of vehicles protected the half-built cabin from the forest road. Moonlight danced upon their windows. Andrea sat alone, perched on the RV, cradling Dale’s scoped rifle in her lap.
“Don’t even think about it,” Rick said.
Jon started. “Sorry?”
“You ain’t taking the next night watch shift. I need you rested for tomorrow. Did Ghost go hunt?”
“I wasn’t – aye, he did.”
Rick nodded and scanned the treeline. “What was it you wanted?”
“To talk.”
“About?”
“Somewhere away from prying ears.”
“Alright. Come with me on the first patrol. Then-”
“Can I come too?” Carl asked.
“Ask your mother.”
Carl shot to his feet and bolted across the camp.
“Carl may not appreciate what I want to talk to you about,” Jon said.
“Bear with me. I wanna have him where I can see him.”
Shane scoffed. “Could always stay here.”
Rick turned around. “Was I talkin’ to you?”
“Whatever…” Shane stood. “I’m takin’ a piss.”
“You do that.”
As Shane abandoned the half-built cabin’s shadow and conformed to the moonlight, Carl returned. Huffing and puffing, he leaned on his knees and flashed a grin.
“Well?” Rick asked.
“She said yes!”
“Did she now?” Rick looked past Carl. Lori gave him a tired smile and nodded. “Right then. You two will join me on the first patrol and then it’s straight to bed.”
“Thanks, Dad! And… yes, sir.”
Rick smiled and pushed Carl’s hat over his eyes.
“Pww-iii Pww-iii”
Silence fell over the camp. Every head turned towards the one complete wall. All was still.
“Who’s there?” Rick asked.
“Me,” Tyreese said.
Rick clicked his tongue. “Tyreese, you gotta say your name. What if someone…”
Black blood soaked Tyreese’s arms below the elbow. Speckles glistened orange in his thick, black beard. Droplets dripped from his hatchet. Drip, drip, drip as he stormed into the camp. He spared not a glance for anyone or anything, and sat in the opposite corner to Bowen.
Jon and Carl trailed Rick as he approached Tyreese. The others gawked at him, frozen midway through whatever they were up to.
“What happened?” Rick asked. He shot the others a soft look.
“Walkers.”
“How many?”
“I took care of it.”
“Tyreese, how-”
“I said I took care of it!”
Carl stepped forward. “Don’t talk to my dad like that!”
“Carl.”
Carl shrunk back. “Sorry…”
“Carl! Carl! Carl!” Bloodbeak screeched.
Jon kept his distance from Tyreese. “Did they seek you out? Or did you seek them out?”
Tyreese stared at his lap. “Leave me alone.”
Carl looked as if he were about to say something, but Rick dragged him away towards the door frame. The lad didn’t fight his father’s grasp, but he did scowl.
“He can’t just hunt walkers like that, Dad.”
“I know.”
“Then why’re we walkin’ away?”
“Because it’s not something we can fix right now.”
“Sure we can,” Carl hissed. “Just tell him not to. You’re in charge, so he’s gotta listen.”
“It’s not that simple. Now, do as you're told.”
Rick planted Carl back into his seat beside the door frame and turned to face the others. “Seems like I don’t need to ask for y’alls’ attention, so I’ll just start then. One person on top of an RV ain’t enough. From now on, we’ll patrol the perimeters of our camps in pairs. Any complaints?”
“Walkin’ in circles all night is gonna tire us out,” Daryl said. “We ain’t got the luxury to sleep all day no more.”
Rick nodded. “Right, I hear you. That’s why there’ll be two shifts. The first shift ends when the moon touches them trees there. Jon and I will take tonight’s first shift.”
“And me!” Carl said.
“And Carl. Any volunteers for the second?”
The group shared glances. Beth raised her hand. Immediately, Maggie did the same.
“Thank you, girls,” Rick said.
Beth touched Hershel’s arm. “Will you be okay on your own, Daddy?”
Hershel smiled a thin smile. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart.”
“Don’t stay up for us.” Maggie clasped him on the shoulder and shot Glenn a glare. “Neither of you.”
Glenn grinned and grasped the back of his head.
“Maggie’s right,” Jon said.
Maggie cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“Those who aren’t on watch or patrol need to go to sleep, and it’s about time that fire was put out. We need to wake early tomorrow.”
Smiles dwindled all across the little camp.
“This is something you must do. It is not a matter of comfort anymore. We must sleep so that we may function at our best the next day.”
The group nodded but none met his eye. Some slouched their shoulders, hugged their knees to their chests, or set their jaws. Bowen smiled. It twitched and threatened to falter, but remained all the same.
“Our dreams can’t hurt us if we don’t let them. There’s nothing to fear,” Bowen said.
Silence answered Bowen.
“Sleep’ll be hard after everything we’ve seen tonight,” Rick said. “But, how many awful things have we seen so far? I can’t imagine any of y’all have slept especially easy these past few months. I certainly haven’t.”
A few smiles flickered back to life.
“Things ain’t so much worse than before. Sure, we haven’t got a roof over our heads anymore, ammo’s low, and food’s tight, but it ain’t four walls and roof that keep us safe. Ain’t land neither, or guns or food. They provide us life, not safety. Safety comes from family. The most afraid I’ve ever felt in my thirty-eight years of life was the day I woke up alone on the hospital bed. Those empty halls, barren streets, and abandoned houses – and the corpses – convinced me that I was alone in the world. Even after I was taken in by a man and his son. Even after I found Jon on the highway. Even after I ran into this group in Atlanta. It wasn’t until I saw my wife’s face and held my son in my arms again that I became convinced that there was hope for the future. Family is safety, and I don’t know about you, but after everything we’ve been through together I’d say we’re about as close to family as a group of strangers can get.”
A smile graced the faces of every person gathered around the fire. Even Daryl. Lori burst into tears, raced across the camp, and buried her face against Rick’s chest. Carl clung to Rick’s waist. Beth hugged Hershel and Maggie dragged Glenn over to join in.
Tyreese scowled at them. He met Jon’s eyes and baulked when Jon approached.
“What?” Tyreese snapped.
“Let them believe in those words. Act the part,” Jon whispered.
“What’s what they believe got to do with me?”
“You’ll die on your own.”
Tyreese shot his scowl at the dirt.
Jon went down on one knee. “No matter what you tell yourself, you don’t want to die, Tyreese. No one does. So, play the part. Be a part of the family. Live.”
“Die. Die. Die.” Bloodbeak croaked.
Tyreese stared long and hard at the raven. Black feathers, black hair, black eyes, black skin; they drank the warm glow of the fire. The fire enriched them.
“Okay…” Tyreese whispered.
“Good man.”
Jon stood and watched the others work, emboldened by Rick’s words. Words were power. Sweet words and sour. They bound hearts, sculpted ideas, and forged kingdoms. Yet, at the same time, words broke hearts, smashed ideas, and dissolved kingdoms. A fleeting fancy or a hundred lifetimes of work; none were safe from the influence of words.
Dirt snuffed the fire, its warm glow died, and the camp conformed to the silver moonlight. The wind raged, howling, screaming, shrieking.
***
The clearing wasn’t flat. It was a slope. At its bottom, the half-built cabin sat on a raised platform of stone, and a small gap parted the bulbous tree line to allow room for the one-way road. The trees followed the slope to its top where the heavy machines slumbered, but didn’t wrap around to complete their oval. They left the highest point of the clearing open; a sheer drop which loomed over a boundless forest.
Jon, Rick, and Carl walked side by side parallel to the sheer drop. Silver moonlight sparkled atop a boundless canopy that stretched to the horizon. Miles and miles of uninterrupted, untouched woodlands.
“No wonder someone wanted to build a cabin here,” Rick muttered.
“No kidding,” Carl said.
Jon glanced at the boy. He would make this more difficult than it had to be.
Carl tore his eyes away from the view and studied his feet. “We can’t live here… Can we?”
Rick winced. “No. I’m sorry, son. We need a place where a herd can’t sneak up on us.”
“That, and it’s too small,” Jon said.
Carl nodded. “Okay.”
“No complaints?” Rick asked.
“No, I get- I mean, no sir. I get it. It looks good because it’s pretty and is away from everything, but it ain’t really safe. Them trees aren’t proper walls.”
Rick smiled. “That’s right.” He patted Carl’s back.
They rejoined the trees and strolled down the slope beneath their bulbous canopies. Leaves brushed Jon’s scalp, tangling in his hair, and tickling his cheeks. Rick had to duck under a branch every so often. Try as they might, they couldn’t reach Carl’s hat.
Carl glanced at the red and white flowers. “Sophia would have loved this place. She liked flowers and stuff.”
“Yeah, son… she would have.” Rick turned his attention to Jon. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” His eyes widened. “Shit- Shoot, it wasn’t personal was it? I can send Carl-”
“No. It’s fine. I suppose it’s better he hears this from my mouth rather than whatever whispers are spread around the group in the coming days. Mayhaps it’s better this way.”
Rick and Carl froze.
“Why?” Rick asked.
Jon put two paces between him and Rick, clasped his hands behind his back, and faced him. “It’s time for you to step down, Rick.”
“What?” Carl took a step forward.
Rick caught his arm. The moonlight cast long shadows down the length of his face. He clenched his free hand into a fist at his side. “This is about the Culvers, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“You think I should have killed them.”
“You should have done something.”
Carl snatched his arm back. “My dad did the best he could!”
“Lower your voice,” Rick snapped.
Carl flinched and retreated to Rick’s side. “Sorry…”
The wind broke through the trees and tried to steal Jon’s cloak and Carl’s hat. Its madman howls filled the air.
Rick wiped his face. “I know it’s my fault, Jon. I know.”
“It’s our fault too. We shouldn’t have let you make this mistake. Yet, we did and here we are.”
“If it’s all our fault, why’s my dad gotta step down?” Carl asked.
“Because I’m in charge, son. I’m the leader.”
“And those who lead must be perfect, lest they be replaced.”
Rick nodded.
A weight lifted off Jon’s shoulders. “So, you agree then?”
“Yeah… I messed up. Dale, T-Dog, and those kids; their blood is on my hands.”
“But it’s not,” Carl said. “You didn’t kill ‘em. The Culvers did. How were you supposed to know they were gonna do that? You can’t read minds.”
“I just should have, son.”
“But why? And don’t say because you’re supposed to be perfect, or whatever. Nobody’s perfect.”
“As leader, I hold all the chips. Everything we’ve got, I control. Which means I’m responsible for it all. The good and the bad. I didn’t kill the people who died, but as leader I had the best chance of stopping it because I had the most resources at my disposal.”
“What’s chips got to with anything?”
Rick smiled. “You’ll understand when you’re older. Just trust me on this, okay?”
“Well…” Carl chewed his lip. “Okay. I still don’t think you killed ‘em though.”
“That’s alright. You believe what you think is right.”
Carl smiled and nodded. “So, who’s gonna replace you?”
“That’ll be up to the others.”
The weight returned. Jon clenched his sword hand. “After all this, after all the horrors we just endured, how can you possibly cling to this lie?”
“Excuse me?”
“A vote? How can you suggest such a thing with a straight face?”
“What do you want me to do? Put Carl in charge because he’s next in my bloodline?”
“Don’t mock me.”
“I wasn’t. Look, I get-”
“No. No, you don’t get anything. Why should the others decide who leads them? They know nothing about what it takes to organise a group. It’s like letting Carl decide what he eats. He’d just eat those sugar bars.”
“No, I wouldn’t!”
“Carl…” Rick said.
“Sorry… but, I wouldn’t…”
Rick straightened his back and the shadows left his face. “Can’t you hear the way you sound, Jon? You sound just like them.”
Jon scoffed. “Like who?”
“Like them. A fascist. Democracy is the bedrock of everything good. Without it, we’re no better than animals.”
“There is no good. Or evil. Those are concepts for children.”
“Hey!”
“There is life and there is death. No more. Actions that preserve life must be pursued, and those that lead to death must be avoided as much as possible. Your democracy resulted in four deaths, and the destruction of the farm, which will undoubtedly lead to more deaths in the future. It is as much to blame for our circumstance as you.”
Rick stared at Jon. He studied him. Emotions flashed across his face. Disbelief. Confoundment. Rage. The wind howled for an age before he spoke careful words.
“And what would replace it, Jon? You?”
“Aye.”
“You’ll be worse than me. They all know it.”
“I have led hundreds. This is nothing. I can keep this group safe.”
“But can you make them feel safe?”
“That is irrelevant. If they are safe they are safe. Their feelings matter not.”
“Oh, they matter. It don’t matter how good some people have it. If they think they could have it better, you’ll wake up one day and find a knife at your throat.”
The scar over Jon’s heart throbbed. “What do you know?” he snapped. “What armies have you led? What battles have you fought? What gives you the right to claim to know how men think?”
“With age comes experience. It’s easy to think you know everything when you’re young, but as you grow you realise that really, you don’t know jack.”
“I’m no boy.”
“You are. I can admit my faults, Jon. Can you?”
“Pww-iii! Pww-iii!”
The forest’s brush and low-hanging branches rustled. Footsteps crunched fallen leaves. A man’s silhouette took form.
Rick shoved Carl behind him. “Who’s there?”
“Fucking Santa Clause. Who do you think?” Shane emerged from the forest and his silhouette conformed to the moonlight. “The hell’re y’all arguin’ about? Sounds serious.”
Rick scowled. “What are you doin’ out here?”
“Pissin’.”
“Long piss.”
“Big drink.”
“How ‘bout you head on back to camp? Help clean up. Make yourself useful.”
Shane ran his hand over his shaved, stubbled head. “You know what, I think I’ll stay right here, brother.”
“Don’t call me that. You lost that right.”
“Why, brother?”
“You know why,” Rick hissed. “After what you did to Lori-”
“I didn’t do shit to Lori.”
Carl stepped forward, hand on his holster. “Fuck off!”
Shane clapped and laughed. “Jesus, the mouth on this kid! What the hell happened? He wouldn’t have dared curse when I was lookin’ after him.”
Rage flared in Rick’s eyes. He opened his mouth.
Jon spoke instead. “Go back to camp, Shane. We have a long day ahead of us. You need your rest.”
“Thanks for the advice, kid. I’ll pass.” Shane set his sights on Rick. “Let’s get back on topic, brother. I overheard what y’all were pissin’ your pants over. The kid is right. You’re what got us in this mess. The CDC. The highway. The farm. They’ve all been disasters. If we’d just stayed in the quarry, we’d-”
“You can’t be serious,” Rick said. “The quarry?! Everyone who’s alive right now is alive thanks to me! If it’d been up to you, we’d all be dead right now!”
Shane crossed his arms. “Who was it that led the horde to camp, brother?”
“That wasn’t my fault.”
“I heard about what happened that day. You went around firin’ your fuckin’ gun in the middle of the city like a goddamn maniac. That drew the horde to the buildin’. And your escape drew them back to us!” Shane opened his arms and grinned. “All of this is your fault, brother! If you’d just stayed on that hospital bed and died like you were supposed to, none of this would have happened!”
“Shut up!” Carl screamed.
“Carl, enough!” The wind swallowed his bellow.
“But, Dad-”
“One more word out of you and it’s back to camp. Are we clear?”
Carl shrunk. “Yes. Sorry, sir.”
Shane huffed. “The kid’s got more balls than you, brother. He says what he feels. He’s takin’ a stand. He ain’t like you, all fake smiles and empty promises. Where’s that shy kid who could hardly look a stranger in the eyes, let alone shout in their face? I tell you where. Gone. He spent a month with me. A month! And came out of it more of a man than he’d ever be with you.”
“Watch it, Shane,” Rick said through a clenched jaw.
“Watch it, Shane. Is that all you've got to say? God, you’ve always been such a pussy. That’s why Lori hated your guts, you know?”
“I said watch it.”
“She told me as much. Said, I was the man she never knew she needed. Always was.”
“You shut your goddamn mouth, Shane.”
“Or what? Huh?! Or what?” Shane got up in Rick’s face. “Do something about it!”
Rick turned his nose up. “What do you want me to do? Kill you?”
“I want you to do something!”
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“Oh no no no, brother.” Shane tapped his temple. “I’ve never been thinkin’ so clearly. I want you to prove. Me. Wrong. Show me you’re a man. Show me you’re a father. Show me you deserve to have Lori.”
“I ain’t never deserved her. No one deserves anyone. Lori’s her own person who’s capable of deciding who she wants for herself. If she wanted you, she’d have stayed with you. But she didn’t. She stayed with me.”
“Out of obligation. She don’t love you. Everyone knows it. It’s plain to see. You know what she says every time I’ve tried to convince her of how stupid she’s being? ‘Rick’s my husband.’ Not, ‘I love him,’ or, ‘He’s more of a man than you,’ or, ‘He makes me feel safe. He provides for us. He takes care of us.’ None of that! Never! Because she knows as well as I do that you’re a terrible leader, an awful father, and a worse husband. The second you’re dead again, she’ll come right on back to me.”
Rick clenched his fists. “I’ll give you one chance to take that back.”
“Or what?”
“Take it back.”
“Or. What?”
“Take it back!”
“OR-”
Rick smashed his fist against the side of Shane’s head. Shane’s jaw spun. Glee gleamed in his eyes. Rick bellowed and tackled him to the dirt and leaves.
“Rick, no!” Jon shouted. “It’s what he wants!”
Rick and Shane wrestled in the shadow of the trees. Dirt and fallen leaves were kicked into the air. They grunted like savage beasts, punching, kicking, butting heads. Carl screamed, drew his knife, and charged. Jon caught him in a bear hug.
“Let go! Dad!” Carl shouted, kicking as he flailed his knife.
Jon turned his face from the wild blade. “There’s nothing you can do. You’ll only get yourself hurt. Stay here so I can help, dammit.”
“You don’t care about my dad! You only care about yourself!” Carl stabbed at Jon’s wrist.
Jon snatched his hand away, dodging the stab by a hair. Before Carl could wriggle out of his grasp, he yanked the lad’s arm, spinning him around so that they faced each other. A swift knee to the stomach buckled Carl. Clutching his stomach, he whimpered, fell to his knees and spewed.
“Forgive me, lad.” Jon bowed his head and marched past the boy.
As Shane sent Rick grovelling in the dirt with a vicious kick to the groin, Jon grasped Longclaw’s hilt. A mistake bred from habit. There was a better tool for the job. Shane drew a knife and lunged, but Rick caught his wrist, stopping the attack dead in its tracks.
“I hate you,” Carl hissed, his voice raspy and raw.
Jon froze, Needle halfway free of its holster. A look over the shoulder revealed a creature of the night. Bent over double and crouching, Carl glared at Jon with the eyes of a warrior. Hateful things of malice and contempt, where love and understanding went to die.
“Hate me all you want, lad. It makes no difference.” Jon drew Needle and-
Shane had a knife pressed to Rick’s throat. His legs were wrapped around Rick’s waist and his arm hooked under Rick’s armpit, pinning his right arm. Rick’s left hung at his side at an unnatural angle. Swelling closed Rick’s right eye. Blood wept between the puffed eyelids and dribbled from his split lips.
“Carl…” Rick gurgled.
“Shut up.” Shane locked eyes with Jon, peering out from behind Rick’s head. “Put down the gun, kid.”
“Take the sh-” Rick’s eyes bulged as Shane applied pressure with the knife, drawing a few crimson tears from his neck.
“You raise that gun, I duck and slit his throat.”
Jon clenched Needle’s handle. “And then you’ll have nothing. I’ll shoot you.’
“Ain’t had anything for a while. Won’t change much. At least I’ll do one last thing worth a damn before I croak.”
Seven hells, he’s lost his mind.
Rick strained against Shane’s hold, but it was no use. “Sh- Shane, you don’t wanna do this. Think of Lori. How can you have her if you’re dead?”
“If we’re both dead, she’ll choose to love my memory over yours. She loves me not…” Shane burst out laughing. “Holy shit! The balls on this kid!”
Carl was pointing his handgun at Jon’s back. The rim of his hat cast his eyes in moonlight shadow.
“You sure he’s yours, brother?” Shane tightened his hold on Rick’s pinned arm.
Jon held out his hand to Carl. “Put that down, lad.”
“Put it away. Get away from my dad.”
“Carl!” Rick croaked. “Go get-”
Shane drew more blood. “Uh uh. Anyone takes so much as a step, and I cut his throat. And toss away your fucking guns!”
“Never,” Carl said.
Damnable boy. “If you don’t fear death then just be done with it, Shane.”
“NO!” Carl screamed.
Jon paid him or his gun no mind and locked eyes with Shane.
Shane scowled. “If you wanna be leader so bad then walk away, big man. Without me or him, they’ll look to you for answers.”
“I will not stoop to your level. You can not drag me down.”
“Take the shot then,” Shane snarled.
Rick squirmed. “God dammit think of Carl, Shane!”
The madness in Shane’s eyes proves his threats are genuine.
“You love Carl!”
Carl’s gun is pointed at my back, but he is just a boy.
“You don’t wanna take his father from him!”
Children are fallible creatures.
Shane huffed. “He ain’t mine.”
Jon stepped aside. Thunder. Rick and Shane collapsed in a heap of tangled limbs. Smoke rose from the barrel of Carl’s handgun, winding and twisting, silver in the moonlight.
“dad?…”
Rick sat up, holding his throat. Crimson wept between his fingers like the spillage of a cracked wine casket. His temple was burned. “Carl…” he wheezed.
Tears blossomed in the corners of Carl’s eyes. He dropped his gun and raced into Rick’s arms.
Jon holstered Needle. “Can you breathe?”
As Carl sobbed against his chest, Rick stared at Shane. His brow had been caved in. A pool of blood was expanding beneath his head. What remained of his eyes were wide open. They gawked at the moon. The brain is destroyed. It won’t rise.
“Rick, can you-”
Carl’s eyes snapped to him. “Get away from my dad, you bastard!”
Jon froze.
“I’m fine, Jon,” rasped Rick. His voice was as calm as still water. Void of life, it did not rise or fall, or bellow or stutter; it simply spoke. “Go back. Get a doctor and a shovel.”
***
Rick sat above them all, perched on a box in front of the empty door frame. Bandages bound his throat and his left arm was in a sling. Bits of white tape peppered his face. A crust of blood glued his swollen eye shut. The moonlight robbed him of colour of texture of form. He was a pale, silver shade against the pitch backdrop of the night sky. Carl sat at his side, cleaning his handgun, and Lori stood behind him, a tentative hand on his shoulder. Bloodbeak strutted along the frame, his one good eye watching Jon without so much as a single blink.
The others sat around Jon at Rick’s feet, swamped in silence. Daryl and Carol glared, Glenn was fidgeting, Maggie held Hershel’s hand, Beth watched Carl with a frown, Jenner’s arms were crossed, Andrea was smiling, and Tyreese and Bowen remained in their corners glowering and stroking the donkey’s fur respectively. They all pointedly avoided looking at Rick’s mud-stained hands.
“Shane’s dead,” rasped Rick to no reaction. He clenched his muddy hands. “He ambushed us on patrol, provoked me, and beat me into the dirt. It shouldn’t have ever happened. I should have stopped it a long time ago. But I didn’t. Carl killed him for me.”
Lori squeezed his shoulder and offered Rick a smile. Rick didn’t return it.
“Things have to change around here – I’ve got to change. We ain’t safe. Never were. And we won’t be for the foreseeable future. So, let’s get one thing straight.” Rick looked at Jon. “I’m in charge. You think you can do better? The door’s right behind me. Go on. Let’s see how well you do on your own. Well? Come on then. Who thinks they know best?”
Everyone looked at Jon. Everyone. Even Bowen. His bandaged stare sent a shiver up Jon’s spine. The silence Rick permitted beggared of him an answer. I could leave. Some may even come with me. Not all – not even close – but some. Where would that get me? With a small group in the middle of this hellscape. Numbers mean life. It is better to be hated than dead. Jon bowed his head and held his tongue.
“No takers?” Rick asked. “Fine, but understand this. This ain’t a democracy anymore. What I say goes. You will do what you’re told when you’re told. Every decision, big and small, is my burden to bear.”
