CHEROKEE ROSE (D. DIXON)

21.

No one says anything, and Rick looks back at Dale sadly.

"Are y'all gonna watch, too?" Dale spits. "No, you'll go hide your heads in your tents and try to forget that we're slaughtering a human being." He shakes his head. "I won't be a party to it." He rests his hand on my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze before stopping beside Daryl. "This group is broken."

I watch him shuffle onto the front porch, crossing my arms. I have never been sure if which God or gods I believe in, but my faith in all of them was waning. What kind of creator makes a work like this? A world where killing an innocent boy could be deemed logical?

I glare at the darkening sky in silence, wondering where God is, and why he has abandoned us.

•••••

Later that night, Daryl, Rick and Shane take Randall out to the barn.

I sit around the campfire with the others, ears pricked for that single gunshot. To our surprise, Rick returns to the camp mere minutes later, along with Carl and a conflicted look on his face. "We're keeping him in custody, for now." He explains quietly.

Andrea beams. "I'll go find Dale." She pauses, turning to me invitingly.

I nod, following her away from the dying fire.

I jump when a strangled cry echoes across the farm, swiveling my head as I try to pinpoint its origin.

"What was that?" Andrea forces out, pistol drawn.

I say nothing, watching the fence line intently.

A breach? Have digos gotten through and got to someone?

Daryl?

My heart threatens to beat out of my chest when I hear him call out from the west facing field. "Help! Over here!"

I break into a sprint as I head for his voice, praying to whichever God was listening that he's not bitten.

"Sonora, wait up!" Andrea runs after me.

I bolt down the grassy hillside and find Daryl crouched over a sputtering and gasping Dale. At first I can see nothing wrong with the man, until my eyes wander further down to his stomach. Where once he buttoned the last three buttons on his yellow Hawaiian shirt, a bloody, gaping hole now resides.

I look up, questioning aloud, "How...?" Until I spot a corpse a few feet away.

Rick pushes me aside, crouching over the old man, pleading for him to keep his eyes open.

I back away, pulling my hunting knife from its sheath as my eyes dart around the dark field.

"Hershel!" Rick cries.

The farmer runs down the hill, panting. One look at Dale, and his facial expression says it all.

"Can we move him?" Rick asks almost plaintively.

"He won't make the trip." Hershel remarks grimly.

"Ok, we'll have to do the operation here, we--" Rick speaks fast, hard to understand.

"Rick." Hershel interrupts, shaking his head.

Rick's face contorts into anger. "No!" He screams, running his fingers through his hair.

The rest of the group gathers around Dale, unsure what to do.

Andrea sobs intermingle with Dale's pained cries.

"He's suffering." Andrea whispers. "Do something!" She blubbers.

Rick pulls out his pistol hesitantly, and I step back quietly, feeling Daryl's warm chest against my back.

Rick stares at the gun in his hand, pointed at Dale, unable to pull the trigger.

Daryl moves me aside gently, taking the pistol from Rick's hand and kneeling beside the old man.

He swallows. "Sorry brother."

I squeeze my eyes shut as the gunshot rings out in the night, painfully reverberating in my ears.

•••••

Author's Note

Hey guys! So, pretty unoriginal chapter, sorry, but it's going to get really good soon I swear! I'm going to try and update weekly, but I might do more or less depending on how busy I get. Thanks for reading:).
-Sky