Future Ghosts • TWD

78. The Killing.

"My- my mom's at home. We don't have any guns. She didn't want one," Liam stuttered out, his voice all wobbly, like he was on the verge of crying. He probably was on the verge of crying. Without another word, Rosie grabbed onto Liam's arm again and started pulling him out the door. When they got outside, she let go of him and used both of her hands to hold the big gun.

"I don't remember how to get to your house," Rosie said, her head switching around in a ton of different directions, checking to see that no one was sneaking up on them. Those people were everywhere, but none of them seemed to be focused on Rosie or Liam, so the two of them ran. Liam was weaponless, so he kept behind Rosie as she shot at any of the people in her sight. They all had W's carved into their foreheads, for whatever reason.

Rosie killed that man in the guard tower. That was one. Now she was killing, killing, killing every one of those people that she laid her eyes on. Gunshot, gunshot, gunshot. Leg, back, head. Dead, dead, dead. She had to, she had to, she had to. Gunshot, gunshot, gunshot. Leg, back, head. Dead, dead, dead.

"Go! Left, left, left!" Liam shouted, pulling Rosie both towards his house, and out of whatever trance she was in. Screaming, crying, dying. "Come on!" Liam shouted. Rosie ran with him, her breath heavy, and her heart beating so fast and so hard that she could feel it hammering against her ribcage. She was so overwhelmed, but she didn't have the time to be. People were dying, and they didn't understand. She understood. She had to help them, or they'd all just become more names on the list. Liam would be an orphan, if she didn't get to that house in time.

Another person, this one a woman. Shoulder, head, dead.

A horn was blaring. What the hell is that? It was going to attract walkers. That couldn't be good.

The two kids ran up the front porch steps, Liam crying and Rosie trying hard to focus. Liam swung open the front door, and a loud screaming came from inside.

"No, Liam! Go!" his mother started screaming. Rosie shoved herself in front of Liam, entering the house first, with her gun raised. The screaming persisted- she was still alive. Rosie rounded a corner. In the living room, one of the bad people were over top of Mrs. Johnson. Mrs. Johnson was holding their hands away from herself, struggling. She was fighting against a man, and he had a knife between his two hands. The knife was just inches away from slicing its way into Mrs. Johnson's chest. It'd go through her skin, through her sternum, through her heart, and then she'd be dead.

Rosie lined up the shot. Her finger was on the trigger. "Rosie, another one!" Liam suddenly shouted, grabbing onto Rosie's arm just as she pulled the trigger. This time he didn't mess up her triceratops horn, he messed up her aim. The bullet went into the man on top of Mrs. Johnson's shoulder, and he fell off of her, dropping the knife in the process. Rosie quickly turned around, and another one of the bad people were there.

This one was particularly tall. He had messy, gray hair that fell just a little bit past the tips of his ears. He was wearing a black shirt with a plaid shirt over top, the sleeves cut off to make it look like a vest. He was smiling. Rosie's mind went foggy for a moment, and she wanted to cry. The tall stature, the gray hair, the vest, the sadistic smile. He looked like Joe. Rosie's gun was raised, just high enough for the bullet to reach his heart, but she raised it higher. The man stalked towards her, his steps getting quicker and heavier the closer he got. But before he could reach her, Rosie pulled the trigger and a bullet pierced through his skull. He dropped dead on the ground, and Rosie stepped closer. She pointed it at his head, and shot again. One time, two times, three times.

"Rosie! My mom!" Liam was pulling on Rosie's arm again, and now they were both crying. Rosie turned from the man she had just killed four times over and ran back towards the living room. Mrs. Johnson and the smaller man were wrestling each other for the knife. Rosie tried, but she couldn't line up a shot- not without risking shooting Mrs. Johnson instead.