Three Questions

4

One year later

"J," Rick said, "if we let you in our group, I have to ask you a couple of questions. Just three."
"Okay," I said.
"How many walkers have you killed?"
"A lot."
"How many people have you killed?"
"One."
"Why?"
"He shot my mother."
Rick looked up and made eye contact with me. He asked who shot my mother.
"My step-dad," I said.
"Was she turning?" he asked.
"No, she was fine. They had an argument. He always had anger issues. Always thought everything was shitting up around him."
"Yeah, I know. You can join our group."
"I haven't been the best company, I'm surprised to hear you say that."
He smiled. Carl, his son was my best friend. Michone, Daryl, Carol, Glenn, Maggie, Rick, Judith and Morgan were my family. They cared about me, protected me. Daryl taught me how to shoot his crossbow. Rick taught me how to shoot. Glenn taught me how to use a knife. Carl taught me how to farm and build things. Morgan taught me Ti-Kuan-Dou. Michone taught me how to use a sword. They all taught me something. That's why it was such a pleasure to hear him say that I am officially apart of the group. We all were so closet knit.
That was before everything.

But then we ended up in hell.

But we all ended up in the same place.
We ended up at death's doorstep.
The devil himself came and talked to us.
We all knelt at his command, waiting to see who would get killed first.
"Ennie
Meannie
Minni
Mo
Catch
A
Tiger
By
Its
Toe
If
It
Hollers
Let him go
My mother
Told me
To pick
The very best one
And you
...
...
...
...
Are
...
...
...
...
It."
Lucille landed upon Abraham. He was the first to go.
"Well, crap," Neagan said. "How about this? Isn't this a crappy way to die. Really screwed up."
Abraham was a military soldier. He was braver than a bear. Cunning like a hawk. He knew he was going to die, but he wasn't going to bow down to Neagan.
"Oh, well," Neagan said.
He lifted his bat and slammed it upon Abraham's head. His neck made a whiplash movement. Neagan struck again. Abraham said something that made Neagan mad. He struck again. Again. Again. He didn't stop, not for one second. His head had no form. He was gone.
Daryl attacked Neagan.
"Neagan, you want me to shoot him?"
"Nah," said Neagan, "you don't shoot a prize like that."
Daryl backed down.
"Man," Neagan said, "this is all so screwed up, ain't it. I mean first you lose Abraham. And then, I could smack y'all in the head and y'all can't do anything. Dang. That IS messed up. Some screwed up shit. You know, I've had a great time talking and what not. But now it's time for action. Action is better."
He twisted his body and smacked Glenn on the head. And then he smacked him again.
"Oh man," Neagan said, "I smacked you so damn hard, your eye ball popped right out of your noggin."
Glenn's head was shaking. He was in shock.
Glenn barely manages to get out, "Maggie, I'll find you."
Neagan said, "no you won't."
He killed Glenn. Maggie would never be the same. She cried. I broke down because he was like a brother to me. I glanced over at Carl and we made eye contact. He mouthed, "It's okay," to me. Neagan came over and bent down to my level. "You're a pretty one aren't you," he said. He grabbed my chin in his hand. "So, are you dating that one?" He pointed to Carl. "Yes," I replied.
"Speak when spoken to. I'm glad you can speak when spoken to."
I nodded. He smiled and pulled me up. "Now, I would hate to brake someone as hot as you. Hell, I'd wanna marry you if I could."
He turned me around to face Carl.
"So I'm gonna ask you a few questions."
"Okay," I said.
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"Who are you?"
"My name is J."
"Your full name?"
"Jane Emma Curtis."
"How much do you weigh?"
"About 120 lb."
"How tall are you?"
"I'm not exactly sure."
"Carl, get up here."
Carl came over and stood next to me and held my hand.
"Carl, I want you to take this bat and smack her right on her left calf."
"What?"
I started mumbling the lyrics of a song I used to know that Maggie taught me.
"What was that?" Neagan asked.
"A song I know."
"Oh, well then by all means sing it for us."
"No, please. I hate singing."
"You have a fear of singing in front of people?"
"I have a fear of being judged."
"How on earth have you survived this long?"
"Walkers don't judge, people do."
"Sing. It might help with all the pain."
"Oh, all the money that 'er I've spent. I spent it in good company. And all the harm that 'er I've done. Alas it was to none but me."
Maggie joined me.
"And all I've done, for want of wit, to memories now I can't recall. So yield to me the parting glass. Good night-"
Carl struck my leg. I screamed in pain. He dropped down to his knees and apologized.
"Listen up, gang. I have one thing to say. Always be afraid of me. If you cross me, you're screwed. If you disobey me, you're screwed to the point of death. And finally, if you don't respond when spoken to, you're gonna be damn screwed," Neagan said.