Dead Man Walking | Rick Grimes

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"It's open!" Rick and I screamed together.

"We got to do this now!" Rick screamed as he started to shout orders around at everyone. I didn't hesitate as I approached Daryl, my gun in my hands, and aimed, getting ready for the walkers coming our way.

"Get ready to hit the flares!" I screamed, watching as Rick held up his arm to signal.

"Now!" Rick screamed and lowered his arm. Heath, a man who came a few days after Reg's death—he'd been in charge of scavenging and bringing more materials to the community—ran behind us and fired the first flares.

The two semis in front of us started to move, and the walkers began to pile out in large masses. I fired the first shots and began to retreat with Daryl, nearing the motorcycle as more and more walkers started to pile out. The rest of our group started running in different directions, following the plan we had devised a few days ago. I jumped on the back of Daryl's motorcycle and turned, firing one more shot into the horde in front of us. Daryl climbed and revved his engine, grabbed their full attention, and slowly drove ahead.

~*~

The morning had come, and we had found a house for Morgan by ours. Daryl stood outside, working on his new bike while I watched from the safety of my porch. It's still awkward between us, and I can't find the courage to approach him and apologize. Who knew that I, June Gomez, would have difficulty apologizing when she was wrong? I rolled my eyes at my sarcastic thought and turned as the front door opened. Rick walked out, clean and in fresh clothing, his eyes squinting in confusion as he looked at the distance between Daryl and me. I grabbed his hand, letting him lead me down the steps towards the rugged man.

"Morgan told me what happened out there by the trucks," Rick started, looking down at Daryl as he continued working on his bike. Daryl looked up, his pale blue eyes landing on me for a fraction of a second before diverting to Rick.

"Did he tell you about those guys he met?" Daryl asked as he stood up, "The ones with the W." My ears perked up as I heard this, my heart skipping a beat. I knew it was the work of some crazed group!

"I've seen a ton of walkers with the same marking," I muttered, keeping my eyes on the ground, "We need more watchpoints. I'll talk to Deanna. I'll tell her we don't need to look for more people until we eliminate these W people." I turned on my heel, leaving the two men behind me.

~*~

It was quiet between us as he drove slowly. We always maintained an eight-foot gap between the walkers and us. I refrained from holding onto him, knowing it would be awkward if I did, and tried to relax my body. I could see from his tense back that he felt just as uncomfortable as I did. Shit, I really should've gone with Rick, Michonne, and Morgan. Sasha and Abraham pulled in front of us in their car, keeping a slow speed. The growls behind us were loud, almost drowning out the sound of the bike. We're lucky Rick and Morgan found this massive horde before it was too late.

~*~

"Deanna?"

I called out as I opened her front door. I spent a few minutes knocking on the door, but when no one came, I got worried. The house was dark and silent, and it seemed like a hurricane had smashed through it. Papers were thrown everywhere; books were on the ground, and a smear of blood was on the wall. My heart picked up as I followed droplets of blood on the floor, my hand reaching for my knife. Finally, the droplets led me into the kitchen, where Deanna sat at the table with a rag pressed firmly to her palm. Deanna looked up at me with dead eyes and a permanent frown etched across her face, exhaustion evident. I couldn't feel it in my heart to flash her a smile or a frown, so instead, I pulled up a seat next to her and grabbed her injured hand. A shard of glass was still embedded deep in her skin, and blood oozed.