BETTER ANGELS ━ the walking dead ¹

ii. bad memories of better times

"Yeah, and he got bit and died in the war."

"No, thank you."

"Come on, Josie. This is how you play. He's coming closer but you can't see him yet."

"I don't like that game. I think he should be the Captain. He says hi."

"Geeks don't talk. Grr," Carl began making the strangled noises of the undead. "Grr─"

"Carl, stop, it's not funny!" Josie exploded suddenly. Her voice struck the silence of the camp like a straining band that suddenly snapped. Sharp, like a blade of anger. Soft as fear. She climbed to her feet and glared above him, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She was storming away before anyone could say anything at all.

»»————-　★　————-««

Josie watched wistfully as Carl and Shane sat side-by-side in front of the fire. The older man was teaching the boy how to tie a bowline knot with a thin cord of rope he found lying around in the camp. She knew the story about Carl's father ─ Shane's partner on the police force who died when the outbreak first started. Since then, she had noticed that Shane had stepped up to become more of a father figure to Carl than anyone else could be. While she watched them, Josie couldn't help but remember her step-father. Her actual father hadn't been around for a long, long time, but Daniel Ellison couldn't care less about biology. He cared for Josie as if she was his own, and even adopted her a few years back, giving her his name and his heart.

Josie died a little bit on the day she had to drive a hammer through his skull.

She knew it wasn't actually him ─ not anymore. His body was the only part of him left, as his mind had been dead for hours and hours. When he staggered into the kitchen covered in blood and bites and rotten flesh, she saw no remnants of the father she once knew.

In her mind's eye, she could still remember the event as clear as day. Her mother sobbed in the corner, too torn and distraught to move, clutching a bundle of blankets to her chest ─ she was frozen in her own terror. Josie hadn't felt anything yet. Perhaps she was in shock, or just hadn't accepted that it wasn't a simple nightmare that she would wake up from, crawl into her parents' bed, sleep safely ─ but whatever it was, it gave her the strength to protect what was worth living for. She hardly felt a single thing until she saw his sunken, lifeless eyes.

She tried to reason with him. That was a stupid choice. Using a kitchen chair, she held him back, kept him at bay, while she begged for him to "wake up." He snarled at her and lifted his mangled hands to claw at the air, wanting nothing more than to tear into her throat. She cried when she realized what she would have to do. She shoved him and backed away, pleading with whatever rationality she hoped he had left to just stop.

When he lunged at her mother, everything seemed to become abundantly clear. He was no longer human. He was not Dad, the loving, devoted family man, he was a creature of horror, a monster. Whatever inhabited his body tried to tear to pieces the things he loved most in the world, and Josie just couldn't let that happen. His mangled feet tripped over each other on his journey to Mom, who was blinded by her desperate tears. Frozen with her arms clutching tightly to the blankets. He wouldn't stop. He couldn't.

So Josie screamed. She screamed until her vocal cords ripped and her lungs ached, and he finally turned his attention back to the girl who was once his daughter. He advanced. She raised the hammer. He lifted one hand in a greedy grasp for her throat.

Josie slammed the claw of the hammer into his skull.

She shuddered at the memory. She had forgotten to start counting to fill her head. She left room for all the bad things, and now the muscles in her neck ached uncomfortably from the residue of her reminiscent terror.