No Exceptions

Two

We ran.

Clouds steamed from slightly parted lips. Branches whipped my skin as I navigated through the dense flora. Pictures of Glenn flickered through my head, and guilt constricted my chest. If it wasn't for Daryl's hot head, Glenn would be here. And I couldn't help but wear that blame.

Would it have been different if we left earlier?

To the left, I could hear incoming footsteps.

We veered right. The glint of a firearm caught my eye and I thrust my finger out in warning. "Rick!"

Abraham and Rick re-directed Maggie's stretcher once again, Maggie groaning at the harsh movement.

Then the whistling began. An ear-piercing, totally disorientating assault on the senses. I spun in a circle, trying to find the origin of the sound.

As the flood lights shone in our eyes, we stopped in our tracks. I shielded my eyes, the brightness physically painful.

It was all over.

I had failed her.

I closed my eyes. Opened them again. Taking in the shit hole we'd dug for ourselves.

They had to be at least one hundred men strong, all sneering. Hatred radiated off them. They'd taken the form of a live horde, slowly directing us towards an RV...

Our RV!

Where's Eugene? Is he okay?

The Saviors finally stopped after completely surrounding us. They were a crowd of gun-wielding, tear-inducing soldiers that were out for their pound of flesh. All we could do was make our own circle around Maggie.

A lanky man with a handlebar mustache took a few steps towards me. This is the guy from the road block!

I held my hands out, turning up my chin at him in warning. He smiled and whistled at Rick.

"Good!" He snickered at some joke I wasn't in on. "You made it! Welcome to where you're going."

I twisted my upper body towards Maggie, tears welling up in both our eyes. I looked away before we set each other off. The weight of the moment finally resting on everyone's shoulders.

The moustached ringmaster sauntered toward me, extending his arm for my firearm. "We'll take your weapons."

I defensively clutched on to my holster and turned to Rick, silently pleading for him to do something, anything to stop this. His bloodshot eyes locked onto our aggressor's, ice-blue irises crumpled under the ringmaster's menacing glare.

With a futile last-ditch effort, Rick pleaded, "we can talk about this-"

The aggressor snatched my pistol and grabbed my neck, everyone throwing their hands up. He laughed with a low rumble, showcasing his chompers. "We're done talking, time to listen."

His face was so close his whiskers scratched against my skin. He held constant pressure on my throat while taking my pistol and knife, making it a struggle to breathe.

The rest of my group was disarmed swiftly and methodically without any resistance. They'd taken advantage of the fact that our two strongest members were busy holding Maggie.

When they had finished their task, the leader finally released my throat and stepped back. I took in a large gasp of air, placing my hands on my knees for support, a dull ache sprouting from my neck. I looked up at him, searching for any remorse and came back empty.

He was the one to break eye contact, announcing his orders. "Okay, let's get her down, and get you all down on your knees. Lots to cover."

Three of his men stormed toward us and grabbed the canvas stretcher, fighting to tilt Maggie off it. I took a deep breath, running to her.