Feral Citizens

Democratic Values

Dale hobbled over to me, sitting down on the steps of the R.V next to me. "Is Beth okay?"

"Should be fine. Her old man is stitchin' her up right now." Hershel hadn't been angry. It was like all the fight had been taken out of him, and only returned in small quantities. "She wants to live. I'm glad."

"Me too." Dale twisted that fishing hat between his fingers. "you still seemed spooked."

"I thought I'd gotten through to her, Dale, I really did," I admitted. It had eaten away at me like a plague of locusts. She'd tricked me, made me think she was agreeing with me. All the while, she had been planning to kill herself. I'd been lured into a false sense of security and, worst of all, I'd never noticed.

"It isn't your fault, Liz," Dale patted my shoulder lightly. I froze, tensing up at the touch. Since joining this group, I'd noticed they tended to express their feelings in both verbal and physical ways. I wasn't too good at either of those things. "Beth would have done what she did no matter who she spoke to."

"I know, but-"

"Shh!" Dale hissed. I followed the direction his finger was pointing to and saw Daryl, Shane, and Rick heading our way. As Daryl got closer, I noticed that his knuckles were bleeding and flaked. Concern rippled through me. "they've been 'talking' to the kid in the barn."

"I thought Rick and Shane were leaving him somewhere."

"They were until he mentioned that he knew Maggie." Dale's voice dripped with contempt. Those wise old eyes of his pierced into my head. "you think this is right? The way they're treating him?"

"I..." I felt a need to defend Rick until I realized that I didn't even want to. Dale was- Dale was right. We had no actual proof that he was a bad person, or that he had done anything. He was a teenage kid, and I hoped that someone would treat my brother better than we were treating Randall. Maybe before, I'd have been on Rick's side. But after talking with my sister, and after what happened with Eliza, I didn't know what I believed anymore. "I think-" Too late. The three men stood before Dale and me; each of them was intimidating in their own way. Daryl locked eyes with me and slid his hands behind his back as if it was comforting to do so.

"So, what you gonna do?" Dale asked sharply. Neither Rick nor Daryl looked like they could answer that question. "we'd all feel better if we knew the plan. Is there a plan?"

"Depends on what Daryl could get from the kid." Shane twisted around to look at the surly southerner. Daryl rolled his shoulders and spoke.

"Boy there's got a gang, 30 men. They have heavy artillery and they ain't looking to make friends. They roll through here; our boys are dead. And our women, they're gonna-- They're gonna wish they were." My stomach rolled over a couple of times. What kind of sick people could do that kind of shit? Laws had changed, but morals didn't change that much. I felt less sympathy for Randall now, his 'friends' were pulling down his chances of survival.

"What did you do?" I asked Daryl. He hitched his crossbow up onto his shoulder, the bloody knuckles gleamed in the sunlight.

"Had a little chat." He replied. There was a dark look on his face that prompted me to drop the subject.

"Rick, what are you gonna do?" Shane badgered him. Rick's face was losing color quickly, he didn't seem so sure of himself now.

"We have no choice. He's a threat. We have to eliminate the threat." Dale sucked in a sharp breath of surprise. I had to admit, even I was shocked. Rick was usually a kind, merciful man. The Rick I had met back at the gas station would have recoiled at the idea of killing another human being without giving them some sort of chance.