Dark Meat [Walking Dead]

Chapter Nine

-- I finally get to explore Tessa and Daryl’s relationship! YAY! Btw, it’s nothing creepy, if that’s what you’re thinking... --

I think what tears me up inside is not so much the fact that I nearly killed a person, but that for the second time I wanted to kill a person. The intent is just as bad as the result, although this time, thankfully, I did not get the desired result. Not immediately anyway.

What is inside me that made me what to kill him? My cowardly side. It is easier for me to shoot him now, than to figure out a plan and risk being dead in the next five seconds. The coward inside me just wants all of this to be over, but I'm too afraid to end it myself.

Except now my cowardly decision has attracted every Walker in the city, the moment I fire the second shot. It glances off his shoulder and lodges itself into the brick wall of the bus station. He yelps loudly in pain, releasing his grip on my throat and hair to put pressure on the wound at his neck. I wouldn't be surprised if he bleeds to death.

I stumble backwards, watching as the Walkers completely forget about me. Blinking in confusion for a moment, I realise that all the fresh, human blood gushing from the man's neck has attracted the attention of the Walkers. The metallic scent cannot be distinguished above the foul air of the Walkers, so I take the opportunity to jump away from the scene and roll the gate away.

“Glenn!” I call out, hoping he hears me in spite of the hungered moans of the deceased so close to him. He turns his head slightly to look over his shoulder, eyes flickering hurriedly from me to the open gate. Braking away from the accumulating Walkers, Glenn swings his crowbar at one roaming the bus station before sprinting towards me. The duffel bag is pulling heavily on his torso, making him slower than normal.

I run as well, pumping my legs as fast as they’ll carry me. Both packs swing wildly upon my back, beating me with their bony, angled sides nearly overflowing with supplies, while behind me Glenn struggles to keep up with my furious pace. The stones slip and tumble away from the train tracks below from the force of my boots. I can faintly hear my companion’s voice calling out to me.

“Slow down!” He begs. But I can’t, not while those Walkers gather to the alley and bus station. Soon it will be overrun with the dead attracted by both the two consecutive gunshots and the smell of blood. That man will be dead soon, whether it be from blood loss or Walkers, and it will be my fault.

No matter how much you tell yourself that it’s either your life or another’s, it never feels right. Or anything remotely like that. It is completely different; a meandering evil in the pit of your stomach, the knowledge that you’ve done something the human soul was never made to endure. It breaks your heart. Not in the ‘lost love’ sort of way, or even of a heart broken from the loss of a family, but the tearing of your soul from the alias and yourself. Splitting the base of who and what you are into two.

These are the things that make us.

Finally, I reach the car far down the tracks. Sweat drips off the end of my nose, smudging the human blood sprayed across my features. I bend over, dropping both bags carelessly to the tracks and try to breathe. My legs feel like jelly as I try to keep my balance, only to stumble on the tracks.

The splintering wood and sharp pebbles cut at my palms, splitting the dry skin and spilling my blood over their surfaces. Our blood is the same, that man and mine’s. Watery, bright as a tropical bird. It’s velvety and smoothe like silk, but with such a raw scent that is too unbecoming for such a beautiful thing. It could’ve been my blood splattered on that man’s face, but instead his covers my own.

I want to cry so badly, just so all the anger and bitterness can leave me. Yet my eyes remain dry and throat parched of any noise. There is no pain in my hands, in the gunshot wound or the muscles in my legs anymore. None of it matters right now as the shock sinks in. It was like this the first time as well. Except the first time I was all alone in the middle of a gun fight and couldn’t spare the time to break down.