Rise Up

Chapter 2

The sun had started to rise. Rick still wasn't back yet. That worried me, but I knew what needed to be done regardless. After a few more minutes, an engine could be heard in the distance. Was it them? I looked up just as the RV made its way into the clearing that we had occupied. The engine turned off but no one got out. I got nervous. After a few more minutes, the door flew open and Rick was pushed on the floor. He was still alive. I exhaled in relief. He had his ax in his hand. Had he tried to put an end to Negan? Negan then dragged him in front of us.

"Here we are. Let me ask you something, Rick...do you even know what that little trip was about?" Negan said.

I inhaled a shaky breathe from crying so much.

"Speak when you're spoken to," Negan said.

"Okay. Okay," Rick said.

"That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand. But you're still looking at me the same fucking way...like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that's not gonna work. So...do I give you another chance?" Negan continued.

"Yeah. Yes. Yes," Rick replied.

"Okay. All right. And here it is...the grand-prize game. What you do next, will decide whether if your fucked day becomes everyone's last fucked day or just another fucked day. Get some guns to the back of their heads," Negan said.

I heard movement behind me. The guns clicked.

"Good. Now...level with their noses so if you have to fire...it'll be a real mess," he said while imitating an explosion.

Rick looked at every single one of us.

"Kid..." Negan said signaling to Carl.

"Right here. Kid...now," he ordered.

My stomach started to turn once again. Carl stood up and made his way over.

"Are you a southpaw?" Negan asked when Carl reached him.

"Am I a what?" Carl retorted.

"You a lefty?" Negan continued.

"No," Carl said.

"Good," Negan said.

He had taken off his belt and was tying it just above Carl's left elbow.

"Please..." I whispered.

"That hurt?" Negan asked once he was finished.

"No," Carl responded.

"Should. It's supposed to. All right. Get down on the ground, kid, next to daddy. Spread them wings," Negan said.

Carl slowly started to kneel. Negan then pushed him until he was lying flat on the ground.

"Simon...you got a pen?" Negan asked.

"Yeah," Simon replied.

Simon threw him a marker.

"Sorry, kid. This is gonna be as cold as a warlock's ball-sack, just like he was hanging his ball-sack above you and dragging it right across the forearm," Negan said.

He drew a line on Carl's arm.

"Don't. Please. You can take my arm. Please don't hurt him," I said.

Negan looked over and me and smiled maniacally.

"No. This is something that your leader needs to go through," he said.

"Please. Please. Please don't," Rick said.

"Me? I ain't doing shit. Rick, I want you to take your ax...cut your son's left arm off, right on that line. Now I know...I know. You're gonna have to process that for a second. That makes sense. Still, though, I'm gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die. Then Carl dies, then the people back home die...and then you, eventually. I'm gonna keep you breathing for a few years, just so you can stew on it," Negan said.