My Damaged Protector

Chapter Eleven ~ Judge, Jury, Executioner

Everyone else was already awake and eating by the time I joined them around the fire. I had pulled my blue jeans on along with a plaid shirt and a brown jacket to help hide from the early morning chill that filled the air. I took the open spot beside Carl and accepted the plate of food that Rick handed me, quickly eating as I noticed that Daryl was missing from the group.

My eyes flashed around the area and I spotted him making his way from where he had set up his tent, a jacket over his arms and his bow over his shoulder. Daryl walked his way past me and to Rick, speaking quietly with the leader. "I'm gonna go talk with Randal. Get some information 'bout his group. Learn what I can." Rick nodded in response as Daryl's blue eyes locked on mine, silently asking for me to go along with him. I placed my now empty plate in the wash bin and joined Daryl's side in walking over to the small shed we had decided to keep the kid in.

Daryl unlocked the door and threw it open, stepping inside and allowing me in before he closed it behind us. Randal was right around Beth's age if I had to guess, older than Carl but younger than me. Short brown hair was mated to his forehead by sweat and he flinched violently when the wood door slammed shut. I reached forward and took the blindfold off, allowing him a moment to adjust to the light.

Randal's eyes locked on me first. "I remember you."

"You ain't talkin' to her. You're talkin' with me." Daryl put himself between Randal and I, even though the kid was tied up and injured.

"I told you already!" Randal yelled. "You questioned me hours ago!"

"You ain't told me shit. How many guys?" Daryl asked while pulling out a knife to continue his conversation from when I must have been asleep.

I watched as Randal's eyes widened at the sight of the weapon. "Uh... 30, 30 guys!" He answered quickly.

"Where?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"How should I know? We never stayed in one place more than a night." Randal was visibly nervous now, but we needed this information to keep the group safe.

"Have you ever picked off a scab?" Daryl asked, handing his bow over to me and getting closer to Randal. "Start real slow at first, but sooner or later you just got to rip it off."

"I was just with them for protection. I thought I'd have a better chance with them." Randal cried, he was absolutely terrified, and I had to step away. I headed out of the shed but didn't stray too far, in the off chance that Daryl needed my help if Randal tried anything. I sat down in some tall grass, keeping the bow at my side as I tore out large chunks of the faded yellow strands. My fingers worked carefully to form it into the shape of a doll, small flowers adorning the body wherever I could get them in, something for Sophia's grave.

The shed door opened about twenty minutes later and Daryl stepped out with bloody knuckles and something in his eyes I couldn't place. He gently held his hand out for me to take and he pulled me to my feet. I handed his bow over to him and followed along back to camp.

We stood at the front of the group, looking at each member as Daryl filled them in on his conversation. "Boys got a gang. 30 men. They have heavy artillery and ain't lookin' to be friends. They roll through here; our boys will be dead and our women..." He paused looking back at me slightly, worry in his eyes. "They're gonna wish they were."

"No one goes near this guy." Rick said, hands resting on his hips.

"What are we going to do?" Dale looked to Rick, knowing the plan to just drop Randal off somewhere far away wasn't going to work.

"He's a threat. We have to eliminate the threat."

"You're just going to kill him?" Dale asked in disbelief.