HELLO FRIENDS! WELCOME TO 2017! ENJOY THIS CHAPTER!!!
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SKYE
Weak. One word to describe the man quivering before us? That would be it.
"How many walkers have you killed?"
Father Gabriel didn't miss a beat. "None."
I scoffed quietly, exchanging a glance with Carl. He narrowed his eyes at the man, a look of disbelief crossing his face naturally.
"How many people have you killed?" Rick kept going, obviously not believing one word the man was emitting. I didn't either. He was not giving off any trustworthy or survival type vibes. He looked like he had been completely unscathed by the apocalypse.
"None." The priest looked shocked that Rick would ask such a question.
"Why?"
"Because it's a sin to kill. God tells us that violence is wrong." I refused to believe it.
Gabriel wasn't lying when he said he was a priest-- he definitely look the part. Dark skinned, small-eyed, and a black suit with the traditional white collar I had once seen on my old preacher's neck. The man definitely captured the preacher facade. But there had to be something about him... There had to be something that he had done wrong. We all have done something tainted by our heinous reality.
We all stood in an awkward silence. Tara glanced at me, raising an eyebrow, and I shook my head, crossing my arms over my chest. Rick took matters into his own hands.
"Carl. Search him." He demanded his son, and Carl did exactly as he was told. He patted down the priest's arms and legs and torso.
"He's got nothin..." Carl murmured after searching for weapons and drawing out nothing but a handkerchief. He glanced at me shrugging, and I narrowed my eyes at the mysterious stranger who claimed impossible things.
"Where are your weapons? Your people?" I asked shortly for the the entire group, my hand lingering on my holster, the hard metal of my gun cold and ready to be grabbed under my fingertips.
"D-do I look like someone who would have weapons on them?" He stuttered, a chuckle behind his voice as a small smile captured his lips in amusement.
Seriously? None of us were laughing.
"It don't matter what it looks like..." Abraham growled.
Gabriel's attempt at a lighthearted conversation was struck down when his facial expression turned from the faint smile to a downcast gaze, which flickered from my gun to my eyes.
He looked back to Rick, standing up straight. "I don't need weapons. The only protection necessary is the protection from God. He is all I need."
Who is this guy?
"It didn't look like that a few seconds ago." Daryl spat.
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Broken Memories • The Walking Dead Fanfiction
Fanfiction❝What happened to you?❞ ❝I lost everything, including myself.❞ ▲ △ Skye was losing her battle to the world- the world that had already lost its battle to the dead. Her memories haunt her by day and her guilt curses her by night. But when she runs i...
