Dead Man Walking | Rick Grimes

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The crunch of the walker's skull vibrated up my arm, making me grit my teeth as blood coated my blade and oozed toward my hand. Above us, the sun glared angrily, lashing us with unwavering heat. The day had been grueling, and the heat was relentless with its onslaught, forcing Maggie and Glenn to groan with discomfort beside me. Three days have passed since Andrea decided to visit us, and it left a sour taste in our mouths. But it confirmed one thing for us: The Governor is gearing up for war as if his message wasn't clear with the carnage before us. Walkers continued steadily pouring into our field through the hole, overwhelming us. I stabbed another two walkers before turning to the sweat-drenched couple to my right, my shoulder throbbing something terrible.

"We need to get in there and seal the hole," I complained, refraining from moving my shoulder further. We've been at this for an hour and a half, and our attempt to dispose of the walkers proved futile. For every walker we take out, three more take their place. The colossal van they pummeled our fence in remained motionless in the middle—taunting us and reminding us that things got much more complicated. I placed my sore hands on my hips and turned towards the small group gathered around the green Hyundai. Rick, Michonne, and Carl were going out on a run for more guns and ammo. It's probably safe to say that the area has been picked clean, but we have to try; we can't be left defenseless.

Rick stalked up to the vehicle and tossed a few guns and ammo in a bag. He looked over to where the three of us were standing, and I could almost feel his eyes burning holes into me.

Clearing my throat, I turned around and faced the newest walker clawing at the fence. Knife in hand, I let out a low growl as the blade plunged forward and embedded into the decaying skull. As they resumed, the small whispers between Glenn and Maggie didn't fall on deaf ears. We all know this is pointless, but the walkers pushing against the fence like this could easily make it topple over.

Despite my efforts to shake off Rick's gaze, I could still feel his eyes on me, watching my every move. The tension between Rick and I has been palpable, and everyone can sense it. I didn't like it; we've always seen eye to eye, but he needs to understand that he can't lead us when he's still suffering. I continued with my assault, ignoring how my arms burned and how my hand cramped from gripping the knife tightly. The pile of bodies at the base of the fence started growing as I found new vigor in my assignment.

"June?" The familiar voice called out to me. I bit my lip and grunted in response, already knowing that Rick was the one to call out to me. "June, can we talk?" I let out a deep sigh and stopped what I was doing. Hesitantly, I faced him—my face stoic and my hands tightening into fists. Without uttering a word, I pointed off in another direction where we could have some privacy. He followed me, keeping pace easily with his long strides as I stomped away from the group. After a considerable distance, I felt his warm hand close around my wrist, forcing me to stop. I faced him, waiting for him to say something and feeling annoyed as he fumbled for words.

"I-I know that things have been hard," He began with a stutter, "and stressful... especially with me going off the deep end there, but I want to make sure things between us are fine." I sighed but refused to say anything as I processed my thoughts and feelings. Do I feel bad about screaming at him the other day? Yes. There was no reason to lose my cool like that, but we were in a hole so deep that I didn't think I could see the daylight. We have lost so much just trying to take this prison, and now people are smashing through our fences, trying to drive us out. "I-I-I don't know what I did to piss you off. Please talk to me."

"Rick," I finally croaked. The desperation in his voice shook me to my core. I haven't heard him sound this defeated since the farm. Instantly, I crumbled. The distance killed me. I didn't like how far apart Rick and I were. I'm his number two, and I can't leave him high and dry because I'm stressing out, "We're good," I answered, hoping it was enough to calm him, at least for this run.