Future Ghosts • TWD

41. A New Heart.

Making their way down a dark hallway, Rick, Daryl, Glenn, Oscar, and Axel lifted their weapons at the sight of two walkers, tearing into a body. Rick fired his gun twice, killing both walkers with gunshots to the head.

The body itself was torn up. Its ribs were out in the open, arms raised helplessly above its head. Upon closer look, the men froze. The body was T-Dog. At least, it used to be.

A little past his feet, next to a door with a puddle of blood, was a scarf. Carol's scarf. The one she wore on her head. Rosie thought it was strange. Now it was just a sign of who they lost. Daryl picked up the scarf, holding it tight in his right hand before shoving it into his pocket.

There were two ways to go at the end of the hallway. You could go right, where the scarf was, or you could go left. Daryl looked down the other hallway. It was dark, but his eyes caught sight of a small glimmer of light. Stepping past Rick, he could see that the glimmer was a knife with light from the door reflecting off of it. The knife was bloodstained and left discarded on the ground. And it was Rosie's knife.

"When I die, will ya make sure I don't turn into one a' them?" Rosie whispered, her voice shaky.

Daryl didn't respond for a moment. He shifted around in his sleeping bag, now lying on his back rather than his side. He stared up at the top of the tent. He didn't want to think about her question and he didn't want to answer her question, but he could feel her eyes on him, just waiting for him to say something.

"Daryl?" Rosie whispered again, pushing for an answer.

He glanced over at her for a second, barely able to make out her sad yet hopeful blue eyes in the darkness of the tent. He sighed and looked back up at the top of the tent. "I'll make sure," he told her, taking on the responsibility of putting her down if- God forbid- the time came she died.

"Promise?"

"Yeah. Promise. Now go ta sleep."

Daryl picked up the knife, staring at it in his hand.

He saw her go with T-Dog and Carol. His eyes couldn't help but stick to her small form when walkers flooded in from the gate, into the basketball courts. He'd watched, heart beating hard in his chest, as she was surprised from behind. He watched as she stuck her knife into the side of that walker's head. He watched T-Dog help her get the knife out of its skull. He watched her stick her knife into the eye of another walker that came up behind her while T-Dog was closing the gate. He watched her jump onto the back of the walker that bit T-Dog before stabbing it in the back of the head. And then he watched her disappear behind a door with Carol and T-Dog.

He didn't watch what happened after she disappeared behind that door. But he could see it now. T-Dog and Carol pulling Rosie through the dark halls. Walkers surrounding them. T-Dog getting torn apart. Carol's scarf falling off as she ran out of ammo, walkers cornering her. Rosie being attacked from behind, dropping her knife before being bitten. Rosie turning into one of them. Rosie stumbling somewhere in these halls, a mindless craving for the flesh of the living being the only thing keeping her on her feet. The promise he made to her being broken.

A hole, four feet and four inches in length, two feet and six inches in width. 

Nine years old. So close to ten.

Rosie's grave would be the smallest one yet.

•

Glenn walked through the dark hall with a flashlight in his left hand and a gun in his right. He was in search of Rick. The trail was easy to follow because all he had to do was follow the line of dead walkers sprawled out across the halls- specifically the ones with axe inflicted wounds to the head.