Dead Man Walking | Rick Grimes

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I examined their walls, my nose scrunching as the overwhelming scent of trash wafted through the air. My insides gurgled, begging to release this morning's breakfast. I took a deep breath in and exhaled through my mouth. The large group pushed us through a single opening, encasing us in darkness. A gun pressed against my lower back, forcing me to go faster as a faint light broke through the blackness. The one leading the way pushed the door open, and the light fully hit us again, making me squint. This place was a dump! A literal dump. How can they stand the smell?

I stayed close to Rick, following his every move as the group started to walk in practiced circles around us. Tara, Rosita, Aaron, Rick, and I stood next to one another, our eyes following the strange group as they formed two circles around us. The inner circle held weapons like knives, axes, and slingshots, whereas the outer circle held guns. Rick and I shared a confused look, unsure about this group.

"Are you a collective, or does one lead?" A woman's voice penetrated the stiff silence. A woman behind us shoved Rick forward, a sharp voice coming out like a hiss. I turned to glare at the woman, my fist balling. Our brief staredown was interrupted by Rick's voice greeting someone.

"Hi," He said, forcing me to turn my attention forward. A woman with an awful haircut came through, her slender, angular face null of emotion as she stood before Rick. She was at least an inch or two taller than him and dressed in all black. "I'm Rick."

"We own your lives," The woman with the awful haircut said, her brows furrowing as she stared him down, "You want to buy them back? Have anything?"

"Well," Rick began, never unwavering, "You have one of my people. Gabriel. I want to see him first. Then we can talk." I don't know what makes me more nauseous: her haircut or the smell of this place.

She nodded at two of her people, and they walked away, disappearing into the trash. They reemerged with Gabriel, his clerical collar and usual black shirt removed, leaving him in a dirty, white wife-beater.

"The boat things you took got taken. Saw them, so we took the rest, and we took him," I hated the smug look that her face bore. It made me want to punch her.

"Well, then, you know we have nothing to buy back our lives with," Rick said to her, "That's what you'll have soon—nothing. Because me and my people already belong to that group who took those supplies from the boat. They're called the Saviors. They own our lives."

"And if you kill us, he'll be taking something from them. And they will come looking. You only have two options when it comes to the Saviors—either they kill you, or they own you. But there is a way out." I know I was happy when they first cornered us. I hoped they would join us in our fight, but now that I'm here with all of them—with their leader... I don't think including them will be the best idea. I don't trust them.

"Join us," Rick breathed, taking a small step forward, "Join us in fighting them." The woman with a lousy haircut smiled at Rick, her eyes scanning him up and down before responding.

"No," She answered, looking at us as if we were stupid. A clang behind us made me divert my attention, my eyes landing on the woman from earlier as she approached me. My lips pursed, and my hands flew up in a defensive position, my fist balling. The woman lunged at me, making me throw my fist forward and punch her across the temple. Stings of pain encased my fist from the force I hit the woman with, but I couldn't let it consume me.

A man grabbed me by the shoulders, his arms looping around my neck. I threw my head back, grunting when it collided with his hard one. His arms relaxed, and I grabbed his wrist, another grunt escaping me as I judo hip-tossed him to the ground. Grunts came from around me as Tara and Rosita fought, too, their fists, heads, and feet landing blows on several of these trash people.