Future Ghosts • TWD

21. Getting it Over With.

"Daryl!" Rosie shouted, sounding panicked as she hurried towards Daryl's tent. Daryl climbed out of his tent quickly, holding a knife, thinking something was wrong. "Daryl!" Rosie said again, stopping in front of him. Her eyes were wide and worried.

Daryl rolled his eyes, tossing the knife back into his tent when he saw that nothing was going on. "Hell's wrong with ya?" he asked.

Rosie felt nervous that he was going to be even more mad at her than he potentially might have already been, but she ignored it because there were more important matters.

"Where's my dad's gun? Did you take it? It's- it's not in my bag," Rosie rushed out, ringing her hands together in front of her.

"Rick took it," Daryl answered casually, shrugging.

"What? Why? Where is it?" Rosie asked quickly. That was her dad's gun. She had a right to have it. Rick didn't.

"Put it in the gun bag. Hershel doesn't want no one carryin', 'specially some lil' girl."

"That's- that's bullshit! He can't take it! It's not- it's not his," Rosie argued. She was sounding more whiny than she intended, but she couldn't help herself. She really didn't want anyone else having that gun. She needed it.

"Nothin' I can do 'bout it. Ya want it back, go talk ta Rick," Daryl said. The way he was talking just made Rosie even more angry. He was talking like it didn't matter. He defended her at the CDC and at the old folks' home, so why wasn't he doing it now? Why didn't he care anymore?

With a frustrated growl, Rosie turned around and marched off to find Rick, her hands balled tightly into fists at her sides. Rick was, for whatever reason, nowhere to be found. The longer it took to find him, the more angry Rosie got. She just wanted the gun. She wasn't stupid. She wasn't just going to fire it whenever she felt like it. She just wanted it.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Carl near the house. He was sitting on one of the porch steps, reading a comic book. Rosie approached him quickly, ignoring the stinging her stitches were causing on her leg.

"Carl," she said in an irritated tone as she stood in front of the boy. He was wearing the sheriff's hat that Rick used to wear all the time, except the badge was gone. He looked up from his comic, smiling a little as he placed it down next to him.

"What's up?" he asked, hoping Rosie would have something to do. His comics were getting boring. He'd read them all several times already.

"Where's your dad?" Rosie asked, giving Carl a glare. She wasn't specifically angry at him, she was just angry.

"I don't know. Why?" Carl asked, standing up from his spot.

"He took my dad's gun," Rosie said loudly, nearly shouting.

Carl shrugged. "Yeah, he took everyone's guns. Hershel said he had to," he explained.

"That's bullshit! He didn't even ask! He just took it!" Rosie argued. This time she really was shouting.

"He probably just didn't want you to get mad," Carl said. He had the same tone as Daryl did. A tone that said I don't care. Rosie felt her blood begin to boil.

"Where did he put the gun bag?" she asked, trying to keep herself calm.

Carl furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms. He took a step back as he shook his head. "I'm not telling you. You're just gonna go steal it," he said.

Rosie felt like her head was going to explode. "So?!"

"Hershel won't let us stay unless none of us have guns. And we have to stay. It's safe here," Carl said. Rosie rolled her eyes, biting down on her tongue to stop herself from screaming in his face.