Life Isn't Fair

36

  That's when it happens. That's when the bullet that went through my leg is now the reason for my despair. I slam to the ground, and faintly look at the wound that someone has inflicted on me. But it doesn't hurt yet. It's the adrenaline. I think. I stand up, clutch my gun in my left hand, and guide myself with my right. I dive across one car to another, and instantly the bullets ricochet off of the metal. I duck just as one goes right over my head, in the nick of time. I stand, gun pointed at the first person I see, which is a woman with a shaved head, and the bullet finds its way into her brain. I silently curse my actions, because they now know where I'm stationed. I sit for a few seconds, regathering myself and hoping to God that Dallas isn't dead. Then, all at once, the sounds of guns stop. I peek around the corner, and immediately have my gun pointed at the very masculine guy standing out in the open. My sight is trained on him, and my ears are focused on listening in to what he has to say. Even though, I should pull the trigger and end the life of the guy who kidnapped my precious baby. It irked me that I couldn't, because the second I did they would fire and I'd be dead. In the minute it takes for him to scan the place, he begins talking. "We know why you're here," he calls out. "And if giving him back is what it takes to stop all of this madness, so be it. Bring out the boy." He says. At the moment he doesn't see me, but I see him. They have Dallas' arm in their grip, and there are bruises on his face. I want to spring up, to grab Dallas and kill every bastard who touched him, but I refrain and breathe out. Before I know it I feel a hand on my mouth and I'm about to scream when the familiar crossbow comes into view. I sigh in relief, and look back to the group. It's crazy how quiet he can be sometimes. Daryl puts his hand on my shoulder, reassuringly, and nods his head to the man who is looking to the right. "I'm gonna go out. Shoot him if anything happens." Daryl and I have this pact that if anyone tries to capture us we'd kill them and hopefully save the last bullet for the person being dragged away if they can't save themselves. My heart aches for my son, and finally, after all of the anticipation and waiting, I walk into view. My gun is immediately up and aimed at the leader guy, and he speaks up after a long pause of looking at me. "Who are you?" My finger slowly moves to the trigger, and I rest it there just in case. "Skylar. Leader Of Alexandria." I say. I'm not really, but I'd rather risk myself than Rick being found out and dying because of me. "Oh. You're that chick that mowed everyone down. I'm pretty impressed. All of this for a little boy?" He calls, and smirks with his cocky attitude. "My son. He's the one I came for. And you sick, hungry Wolves are not gonna see the last of me. Of us. So hand him over, or get a bullet to the brain. Or, even worse, leave you to the walkers to be torn apart." I speak with such venom and viciousness that he actually blinks twice before looking back at his people. "You did all of this," he motions to the woman and the bullet holes in different places, "By yourself?" I nod, and he looks quite pleased. "You're a badass, Skylar. But, rules are rules, and whoever tries to kill us has to die." Before he can speak further, the bullet lodges itself into his head. I just have time to duck and crawl quickly to the back of a vehicle when the bullets fly, once again. Their leader is dead, what're they gonna do now? I watch as they drag Dallas back inside, him screaming, and the blood in my veins becomes hot, wanting to murder all of the nasty people that think they can get away. But they can't. All of them struggle to get back inside with the others now joining in on the attack, two or three wolves dying a minute. We start to push them back, and only hope they haven't killed my son over what I had just done. When they are far enough back into their compound and all of them have ran, we regroup. We're circled around the back of a van, dirty but big enough to hide us. "That was pretty hot." Maggie comments. I wink in her direction, and soon the sound of a gunshot brings me out of my senses. It was one. Just one. And that means that something bad has happened. I lunge forward, desperate to get to Dallas, but I'm pulled back by my waist when Rick jumps up to grab me. I thrash around, screaming obscenities at everyone, at the world, and finally I stop. He pulls me back down to where I'm safe, and I put the butt of my gun to my forehead, resting it between my eyes and leaning forward. My next move is to go in there and save my baby, come out alive, and keep everyone else breathing in the process. Which might be the hardest task I've ever had to do since the beginning. But Damnit, I made a promise and I'm going to keep it. I pull the machete from my holster, click another round' into my gun, and stand suddenly. "You three get the back, me and Rick get the front." I rub my temples, and suddenly get the feeling of profound confidence. The machete scrapes across the ground for a second as I stand, and it sounds a tad bit scary. I laugh aloud. "Come on." I order. I probably don't sound sane, but then again I have to ask myself if I still am. "Skylar," Rick calls as I survey the area, and walk quickly out into the open towards the entrance of the putrid place that I'll probably regret going into. "Skylar." He calls again, but this time as he touches my shoulder I lose it and I spin only to have my gun trained on him. He gasps noticeably, and the only thing I feel is shame. I drop the sight on him and point it at the ground, Confused as to why I just pointed the gun at my best friend. "I know you're provoked," Rick's hands that were once up in defense are now dangling by his side. "But you have to focus. We're not your enemy. They are." He speaks with a soft tone, one much much smoother compared to the one he used to get me to stop thrashing against him. I nod, noticing that he's looking me straight in the eye, which is a sign of truth, and I turn back around. Maggie, Glenn, and Daryl have already gone around the back like I said to, so all me and Rick have to do is go in and scout out the place inside. I gesture for him to stay to take hold of anyone who comes out, and once he's in position, I cross the threshold of the territory. Once I'm behind a few crates of random materials, I spot a band of Wolves headed for another exit by a small door, and I leap out of my spot to mow them down with my gun. Unfortunately, one of them is very good at throwing weapons and I now have a knife in my thigh. I cry out, fall to my hands and knees, which creates more pain, and I fall onto my back. "Mother-'' I get cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps, and I can hear them retreating. I have just enough time to leap out of the way as an arrow flies by my head. I silently curse Daryl for almost shooting me, and then I realize it wasn't him. The sound of a horse whinnying catches my attention, and as I'm leaned against an abandoned steel square, relief begins to flood my face. These people don't have horses. They travel on foot. So that means one thing. Either my people have come to help, or another group-hopefully friendly-has come to save the day. Once it's clear that the Wolves are no longer a threat, I stare down at my wound. Bleeding, bruised, and in a high amount of pain, I stand out of my spot and watch as the last known enemies are rounded' and placed into the middle of the lot. I click more ammo into my gun and when I'm about to blow someone's head off, there's a hand on my shoulder. And this time, I don't point my gun at them. The familiar dark skin that has now evaded my vision makes me smile. Ezekiel. I turn and watch as he shows me his shiny, white teeth. "We've come to the rescue, Miss Skylar. I had my men go to Alexandria to inform you of an event, but they were told that the main leaders weren't there. I got a bit worried, and came to look for you guys. Here we are, and now I've come to learn that they had your son. They do not now, am I right?" I shake my head, hopefully he has his people go and fish him out of that nasty place. "Well then. Jerry, Richard, you heard the Woman. Go get that little boy." They immediately venture into the small building and suddenly I'm so afraid of what they might find. Did they kill him so that they could get revenge before I could save him? I go through the possibilities once and already my heart is beating fast. The blood now soaks my pants, and somehow I'm still able to walk. I pulled out the knife when I got up, and now I regret it. Pulling it out only made the bleeding worse. I try to staunch the flow of red by pressing a cloth Ezekiel gives me, but it's covered in a matter of seconds. He grabs my hand and guides me to a wagon pulled by a dark black horse, and in the man-made wooden structure was a bed of hay. In the left corner sat a medical kit and a few other items, and my hands instantly reach out to get it, but Ezekiel stops me. "We have a good Doctor. This isn't going to help your wounds effectively, but our Doctor will. Trust me." He says with his deep, smooth voice. He lifted me up onto the wagon, and a few other men joined me. Rick and the rest of my friends rode in a car behind us, and the prisoners that Ezekiel ordered be kept at the Kingdom, were in a van in the way back. Ezekiel insisted on Rick and the others going home so they could go back and handle Alexandria, and they did. They took Dallas with them. I wish I could go home and hold my boy but I could die if I don't get medical aid. The pain was gone from the pain killers one of the men gave me, and as I guzzled down the water we pulled up to the gates. It took almost a full day to get back. That's how far the Wolves' camp were. I noticed that Ezekiel wasn't as bright and cheery as he was last time we met, and I get a bad feeling. It doesn't make any sense as to why he was acting strange. But I wanted to find out so I could at least help after all he's done for me so far. Once we got far enough into the community he hopped off of his horse and came around to the back. He wrapped his arms under my legs and around my back before I could object, and straight up carried me all the way to the infirmary. I felt weak, and sick, and wounded, and-the list goes on and on. So him carrying me was a relief because if he hadn't I probably would've passed out on the way there. That would be embarrassing. And, I'm not one to reject help from someone who is technically my friend. My eyes rest as my head leans against his chest, the strong beat of Ezekiel's heart making me smile. I felt safe, here, in this community. But my home is Alexandria, and I can't leave that. He sets me down on the cott and the Doctor comes in to examine my wounds. "One shot on your lower left leg, and a knife wound on your right thigh. What the hell happened?" He asks me. "I was trying to rescue someone. Big group didn't like it and decided to try and kill me. Ezekiel came in right on time." I explain. He nods, and becomes extremely focused on my pain. He gives me a small, bright blue pill, and makes me lay down. It makes me drowsy, and causes my eyelids to drop. I yawn, and immediately I go out like a light.
       When I come to, there are white bandages on both of my legs. A small patch on my collarbone, and the cut on my forehead stitched up. I forgot about that one until now. I reach up to touch it, and hiss when the sweat from my palm seeps into it. I notice that two oval shaped pills are sitting on a desk next to the bed, and I instantly pop one into my mouth. I guzzle down some water, and the faint headache I had was now gone. My legs weren't exactly cooperating, so I sat down and waited for someone to show up. The Doctor came back in with a wheelchair, and my eyes squinted. "Do I really need that?" I ask. But when I stood up and almost collapsed the Doctor laughed. "Obviously, yes, Skylar. How do you expect to get healthy if you're laying in bed all day? You need to move around so your limbs get used to movement and aren't cramped up and that your joints are oiled up properly. If they get stuck in one position, it's painful. Be careful." He explains. I scowl. He guides me into the silver wheelchair and leads me out of the room. "You can go back to your people when you are well and healed. For now, you have a room in Ezekiel's house. He still needs to watch out for his people as well. You understand?" He asks me simply. "I do," I reply. "I just want to rest and get home as fast as I can possibly manage." I crack a smile, thinking of going home to my family. To the people I find comfort and warmth in. My fingertips graze the cold metal lining on the side of the seat, and the sweet smelling air brings me to breathe in. The sun was a bright white in the sky, and when the mix of colors fly by me, I close my eyes. Birds. Canaries, mockingbirds, all sorts of beautiful creatures. I don't have time to really examine these animals or anything beautiful in general, you know, considering. I have a feeling that if the entire human race dies out, at least the animals will be thriving. Walkers eat anything, but they are less prone to go after an animal they can't reach. But I'm glad that the Earth will finally be in good hands. As he wheels me to an area where there is no longer any space to go through in a wheelchair, he dismounts me by picking me up by my arms and slinging one around his shoulders. He pulls me into a building that looks like an apartment complex. But much, much more fancy. He gives up and carries me down a hallway and through multiple doors before I'm entered into a room with a big bed in the middle. It looks very rustic, with the dull matching wood and the pretty flower covers on the bed spread. This room has a balcony, and the rail is lined by the same wood inside of the room. It's nice, and I appreciate that I'm being helped this much. In the small dresser that is a few feet in front of the bed, I find some new clothes. And they aren't big or baggy. Maybe Ezekiel had them here for my benefit. The first thing I pick up is a hooded long-sleeve shirt, that's dark green, and a pair of black leggings. There's a note on my desk, and it reads"

               "I would love your presence at a small dinner party I am hosting tonight in the Dining hall. Come tonight, you won't regret it. Wear something pretty."

                       -Your King, Ezekiel.