ᴀɴɢᴜɪsʜ » ᴅᴀʀʏʟ ᴅɪxᴏɴ

{15} Black Funeral.

Dale steps forward, pulling Rick into a tight hug. Carol did the same to Lori, thanking God for Carl's chances of survival. Jodie practically runs down the steps, pulling me into her arms with a smile. She pulls away seconds later, holding onto my arms.

"How'd it happen?" I ask, squeezing Jodie's arm. She spun her head towards Daryl smiling at him too. Daryl awkwardly leans against the motorcycle, turning his gaze away from our direction.

"Hunting accident." Rick sighs breathlessly. "That's all...just a stupid accident."

Rick explains how a man named, Otis shot a deer a few miles north from here. The bullet went through the deer and into Carl. Otis had shown Shane and Rick the farm, even risked his own life to get some supplies from an overrun high school miles away. Shane was the only one to make it out alive. Shane, of all people, was the only one who knew how Otis died. My lips pinch together as Hershel spoke about a small funeral for Otis. Patricia, his wife and now widow, wanted something for him. She needed comfort. Peace.

We gather a few rocks under a small apple tree that sat a few feet south from the house. Hershel spoke a few words from the Bible, saying prayers, and speaking of Otis and his time on this earth. One by one, we pick up a rock from a rusted barrel and stack the rocks carefully among one another. Beth, the blonde girl, carefully places her stone on top. She stares at the rocky grave before moving back beside Patricia who wept in silence.

"Bless it be God, father of our Lord Jesus Christ, " Hershel spoke while watching Beth's boyfriend, Jimmy, pick up a rock from out of the metal barrel to do the same as Beth. "Praise be to him for the gift of our brother Otis, for his life span of years, for his abundance of character; Otis, who gave his life to save a child's, now more than ever, our most precious asset."

Jodie moved from my side and did the same as everyone else. Returning to me with her hands intertwined together in front of her. "We thank you, God, for the peace he enjoys in your embrace. He died as he lived, in grace - Shane." Hershel tilts his head to look at the best up man. "Will you speak for, Otis?"

Shane flashes his wide and wild eyes towards Hershel. His mouth slightly open, as his brows narrowed with conflict. His tongue tapped the tip of his upper lip. Jabbing his tight fist into the pockets of his overly sized overalls, Shane shifts his weight onto his hurt limp leg.

"I'm not good at it." Shane faintly whispers. Shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

"You were the last one with him." Patricia's voice trembled, as tears roll down her face. "You shared his final moments. Please. I need to hear." Patricia begged. Her shaky voice was now turning into a sob. Causing a few of our group members to lower their heads with pity and sadness. We all know how it works. The bite. The fever. Sudden death. To lose someone who was loved dearly is heartbreaking but sharing the final memories is some closure. We've all seen the same pleading look. All heard the sobs from the living.

"I need to know his death had meaning."

There is no use in turning down a grieving wife's plea.

"Okay..." Shane agrees after a silence.

Shane limps forward, and as he does so, a small breeze rustles through the trees. The smell of fall tickled my nostrils. His head bobs up and down, recalling the horrors of last night. I watch him with judgement, ready to expose him right here, right now. His movements are stiff, awkward, unusual.

"We were about done, " Shane begins his story. "Almost out of ammo, we were down to pistols by then. I was limping. It was bad. Ankle all swollen up

'We've got to save the boy'. See, that's what he said. He gave me his backpack. He shoved me ahead." Shane's voice cracks as he proceeds, shaking his head violently.

"'Run, ' he said" paused. "He said, 'I'll take the rear. I'll cover you.' And when I looked back..." Shane does a dramatic pause, glancing at the rocks with a strange look. Rather than explaining the gruesome scene, Shane spares us the details. The buzzed cut man limps forward, chest now slightly puffed.

"If not for Otis, " Shane limps all the way to the rusted barrel. He winces while slightly bending downward to pick up a rock from among the few still remaining. "I'd have never made it back alive. And that goes for Carl too. It was Otis, " Shane's voice now more confident. He scans our faces to make sure we are truly listening to his story.

"He saved us both, " Shane now places his wide eyes onto the widow. "If any death ever had meaning, it was his."

With his speech finally over, Shane limps to the mountain of rocks, placing his just at the side of it. His fingers slowly glide from off of the rough object, surveying the mountain as if it were delicate. Turning away, he faces us slowly and stares at the crowd with uncertainty. For reasons unknown, Shane looks at me. As if he knew, that I clearly knew, the fucker is a damn good liar.

~ ♡ ~

| Arther's  Note |

This will be the last update until next Sunday. I will be focusing on other stories.

Heads up: I've decided to switch to third person after this update. Always had issues with writing in first person. Plus, I want to dig deep into other character's mindset.

Special thanks to; Pupuce_la_chouette1 for reading chapters back to back and supporting not only this book but my Mayans book as well. I appreciate you so much and always look forward to seeing you in my notifications.

Please vote, comment, and share if you enjoy this story. It will give me feedback on how often I should focus on this story.

Stay safe. Don't catch the Corona. Wash your hands. Be kind to those who are working through this. Love you all

~ melodyxriddle / Luna