⇆Just For The Hell of It⇄

||4|| The Welder

||4||

The Welder

The room was dead silent, all except for Florence's breathing. Negan's footsteps disappeared down the hallway after he left the room. She zipped up her vest again and hugged her chest tight. A wave of guilt swept over her. She knew for sure that he was pissed off at her now, even more than when they were in the RV. Maybe she should have let him...

"Florence," a masculine voice said as they entered the room. She grinned for a second, hoping that it was Negan. Her face instantly fell when she realized that it wasn't. "My shift is done. It's your turn to patrol now," he said. Florence's eyebrows furrowed. "But I just went yesterday..."

He shrugged his shoulders. "We've had too many casualties. We need to pick up the slack in case Rick and his group come back." Upon leaving, he closed the door behind him, leaving Florence isolated again. "Fine," she muttered to herself.

***

She had taken the night shift before, what was she to be afraid of? Walkers, Rick's group... Walkers had become an easy kill for Florence now. Back at the Hilltop, she'd hide herself behind their walls and wouldn't dare step outside them. They were her only protection. The people gave her a knife to defend herself, even though she had never used one before in her life.

Miles of forest engulfed their little base. Miles of which Florence had never discovered. Rifle in hand, she let herself clear her mind of her usual patrol route and instead went the opposite direction. I'll only be gone a while.

No matter where she went, everything looked the same. She kept herself alert just in case she stumbled upon a walker. But every twig or piece of debris that snapped underneath her feet alarmed her. The rattling wind swept through her hair and over her shoulder. Every time she took a breath, she could feel the chilled air freeze up inside of her, then be released in a cloud. As the sun went down, the ominous shadows of the trees began to creep out from hiding from the sun.

The distant groans of a walker caught her ear. Florence lifted the rifle up and prepared for the vile creature to come closer. It's blank stare locked onto Florence and staggered towards her. It's face was sunken in and every part of it's body seemed to be falling apart in some way. She eyed the creature carefully before pulling the trigger, sending a silenced bullet soaring through the air until it made impact with it's head. It recoiled backwards and fell to it's absolute and final death.

"Don't move," a brooding voice demanded from behind with the sound of a gun's safety clicking off. "Remove your weapons and put them on the ground."

"Don't do this," Florence said over her shoulder. "I have the bigger gun," she bluffed. I damn well better be right. There was a moment of silence before the man spoke again, this time with a bit more desperation in his voice. "I said, put the damn weapons on the ground." Giving in to his demands, Florence unstrapped the rifle and dropped it on the dirty ground. "Anything else? Knives?"

She reached into a pocket in her vest for the scyllis. She gripped the blade's handle tightly, pivoted her heel and lashed out at the man. She missed his face by about an inch before lashing out again this time gashing him in the shoulder. He let out a hiss of pain before he fell to his knees. He clutched his shoulder firmly. Blood soaked through his shirt and stained his hand. Before he could get up, Florence reached for her rifle and aimed it directly at him. The man was dark skinned and looked about in his 40s. His beard hadn't been shaved in what seemed like while. She couldn't help but notice his eyes. She couldn't tell whether he was ready to plead for mercy or murder her in an instant.

She picked up his measly pistol and turned the safety on before shoving it into one of her back pockets. "Quite the gun you've got there," she teased. Lifting the rifle's scope up to her eye, she aimed at his head. The man simply remained impassive. Florence cocked an eyebrow, expecting him to be pleading for his life. Instead he said, "Go ahead. Kill me." Her eyes didn't leave his. Her hands started to tremble as she tried to find the willpower to squeeze the trigger. Her breath then started to match her shaking hands. I can't do it, she thought. Florence slowly lowered the gun and tossed him his pistol. "Take your gun and get out of here. Now."