Dead Man Walking | Rick Grimes

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FINAL CHAPTER

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I held my hands up and shakily exhaled, moving to rise to my feet. A new set of hands turned me around harshly, bringing me face to face with the second stranger. His hair was cut short against the grain, and he had a square, taut jaw. His deep brown eyes glared at me, and his assault gun shone against the intense Virginian sun. His lips turned upwards in a snarl, and his gear clicked as he moved closer to me.

"Name," I furrowed my brow and scoffed. Did they really attack me to get my name? If they approached like a normal person with their guns down, then I would've told them... eventually.

"What's it matter to you?" I spat at him, matching his hostility. The man grit his teeth and raised his weapon, nearly pressing it between my eyes. Behind me, the man I took down started groaning and coughing, clearly coming to.

"Jesus fucking Christ," He moaned. His gear clicking told me he was moving to his feet—two against one. I don't like those odds. One man? Sure, I could probably take him, but two? No way in hell.

"You good?" Man two asked, his eyes never leaving my face.

"She packs a mean punch," The other groaned, "I'm thinking this is her." What does he mean by that? Have they been searching for someone, and they think it's me? They got the wrong woman!

"I don't think so," I answered, finding my voice, "Let me go, and I promise I won't kill you." The man I took down came into view and squinted, his nose still dripping thick, red blood. His eye was already starting to bruise and swell, and his lip was split and bleeding. He smiled at me and managed to choke out a laugh, his gloved hand wiping at his nose.

"Yeah, this has to be her." What the hell is he talking about? "She's a definite A, but we'll say she's a B." A? B? What the fuck? What are these two talking about, and what does being either of those letters mean? Most importantly, they have the wrong person! I don't know who they're searching for, but it's not me.

"I don't know, man," Stranger Two muttered, "She's dangerous. She has that look in her eyes," Look? What look? I glared at the man, making a mental note to kill him first if he didn't lower his damn gun.

"That's the look of a survivor, Michael," Bloody guy smiled, examining me. "He didn't mention a scar, did he?" A gloved finger pressed my chin to the side, lightly tracing the long scar on my cheek.

"See!" Michael growled, "This might not even be her! Okafor gave us general directions and a brief description of her. I'm sure there are other women in the area that look like her." If I wasn't confused earlier, I definitely am now. Who sent them out here? Who are they looking for?

"What the fuck are you idiots talking about?" I sneered, not bothering to be nice. Not like I was to start with, anyway. "Whoever you're looking for, I can guarantee it isn't me. Let me go, and I'll forget I ever saw you guys. Keep me hostage, and I swear you'll assholes regret it."

"We can't bring her back, Stu," Michael protested, "We should kill her and tell him we never found her. Virginia is a big state, and we can say that we found the place, and it was abandoned."

"No," The man I beat down, Stu, responded, tearing his gaze from me, "You know we can't do that." Michael groaned and turned his gaze to me, giving me a window of opportunity.

I grabbed the barrel of the assault weapon and shoved it back, striking Michael squarely in the jaw. His head snapped back, and his grip loosened, allowing me to easily rip the gun from him and aim it at the two men before me. My finger hovered over the trigger, ready to fire at the two if they decided to do something stupid. Retreating a few steps, my eyes scanned them, a smirk spreading across my lips as blood flowed from Michael's mouth.