The Purification (From the Ashes We Will Rise: Book One)

Chapter 17

When I woke up, I rolled out of bed, rubbing my tired eyes and stretching until my muscles relaxed, doing my best to ignore the screaming pain it caused. I clutched my abdomen as I pulled a new shirt over my head. I looked around the room for Lincoln, but he must already be up, and I knew Tuck was with him wherever he was. It was warm out, as usual. It was an excellent way to keep me awake, although I wish we had more supplies. I miss soap. It'd be nice not to smell like a walking bag of trash. The water removed the dirt but only did so much about the smell. I grimaced as I reached up and touched the knots in my dark brown hair. I need a haircut.

"Need a bath?" A voice spoke up from beside me, and I turned to see Maggie, who had been watching me try to brush aside my twisted hair. I let out a short, quiet laugh and tucked the loose hair behind my ears.

"Yeah, with lots of bubbles," I responded wistfully. "A haircut wouldn't hurt either."

"Glenn wanted me to come and get you. We're about to have a meeting about Randall."

After I had been shot, Hershel saved one of the men from Dave and Tony's group. His name was Randall, and he was currently being held in the barn. Between being shot and Beth trying to kill herself, I didn't even know he was here until after everything settled last night. When Rick and Shane were gone yesterday, they were supposed to leave Randall somewhere and come back, but that's not what happened. Instead, Rick and Shane fought once they arrived at the public works station because Randall knew the farm's location. The men were swarmed and narrowly escaped, having no choice but to bring Randall back.

"So what are you gonna do?" I asked, leaning against my brother for support. "I think we'd all feel better if we knew the plan."

"Is there a plan?" Andrea asked skeptically.

"Are we gonna keep him here?" Glenn pushed.

"We'll know soon enough," Rick responded flatly.

Daryl approached the group with bloody knuckles and his crossbow, "boy there's got a gang, thirty men. They have heavy artillery, and they ain't looking to make friends. They roll through here. Our boys are dead. And our women, they're gonna—they're gonna wish they were."

"What did you do?" Carol asked gently, causing the man to glance down at his knuckles.

"Had a little chat," he answered plainly, and Carol walked away.

"No one goes near this guy," Rick ordered.

"Rick, what are you gonna do?" Lori asked gently.

Rick closed his eyes and sighed before shaking his head, "we have no choice. He's a threat. We have to eliminate the threat."

"You're just gonna kill him?" Dale asked, shocked.

"It's settled," Rick asserted, "I'll do it today."

I was shocked if I'm being frank. It was one thing to return fire after we were shot at. But to kill a man in cold blood. A guy who couldn't be that much older than me. What are we turning into? Since when are we the judge, jury, and executioner? Dale seemingly thought the same, chasing after Rick as he walked away from the group. I can't deal with this. Rick made Hershel save Randall's life, and now we're just going to kill him? I shook my head and walked away from the group, finding the one person I knew could make me happy just by looking my way. When I saw him, he was kicking a soccer ball around with Tuck on his heels.

"Hey, Linc!" I called out, and the young boy looked my way with an unbeatable smile. His heart was bigger than the soccer ball he kicked around the yard, and his smile was the gateway to it. He had these chubby cheeks. I'll never forget them, how they dimple when he smiles. He wasn't a perfect child, but then who is? Is it ever fair to demand perfection? Not in a world like this. Dave was right about one thing: no one still alive in this world was innocent. Perfection died when the world did.

For the first time in what feels like forever at this point, I let my guard down and just let myself be here with my boy. I played soccer in high school for a while, and I wasn't a pro by any means, but I knew my way around a soccer ball. It almost wasn't fair, as the more we played, the more my son and dog double-teamed me. There was a burning pain in my abdomen, but I ignored it. I didn't care how much pain I was in. Spending time like this with Lincoln is worth some temporary discomfort. Before we ended up here, reunited with my brother, I would never have imagined being able to do something this normal together.

When I saw Dale approach with a somber look on his face, I knew our break from reality had come to an end. I ruffled the hair on his head and shot him a smile before meeting Dale halfway. Then, wordlessly, he led me out of Lincoln's earshot, and we sat in the grass. We stayed silent for a moment before Dale began his pitch.

"We can't do this, Liam. Killing that boy isn't right," Dale sighed, and I nodded. I agree entirely, but what could we do? "No one, except maybe Shane, actually wants to do this, but they think they have to. Even your brother agrees somewhat, but I don't think you do. Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're not wrong, Dale. Killing him would be wrong. We were willing to let him go yesterday, but now he has to die. But what are we going to do about it? We're just two guys with no influence," I sighed, running a hand through my tangled hair.

"You're not wrong, but maybe if we can convince the others, Rick will change his mind," Dale spoke hopefully. "The world we know is gone, but keeping our humanity? That's a choice. I fear we'll never get back if we cross this line."

"Forgiving keeps us human," I sighed, taking the older man's hand in mine. "I know that, and you know that. We all know that, but what the group thinks they're doing is justice for the group. It's not. There has to be another way, but we don't have the time to find it."

He squeezed my hand, not having anything else to say. He left me after that, moving on to whoever he hasn't spoken to. I rejoined Lincoln and spent the rest of the day hanging out. I felt wrong about it, but keeping him close was helping me forget that we were all about to watch a man die.