FALLEN ANGEL ➵ DARYL DIXON [1] ✓

Chapter Fifty-Two: Sanity

Chapter 52

He slams his foot hard on the pedal, over taking his men's truck to do a 190 degrees spin, blocking and taking up the road in front of him. The man has no choice but to slam on his brakes, skidding to a halt and almost crashing into The Governor's truck.

The Governor immediately jumps out, everybody doing the same to see what's the problem. But they all have a pretty good idea.

"What the hell was that back there!? What the hell are ya doing? WE NEED TO DIG IN!" The Governor basically screams in their faces, being the sore loser that he is. He always gets his way. This isn't normal for him.

"It's not worth it! That was a slaughter!" One of his men shouts, the rest on board with what he's saying.

"We barely got out!" Another brings up, The Governor starting to twitch in his spot...

Breathe.

In.

Out .

Breathe.

"Bunch of pussies!" Martinez yells, being on his boss's side and not letting him down.

"To hell with them psychos! They can keep the damn prison," a dark man says, not risking his life for something that's not even worth a fight.

"Some asshole shot my boy with an arrow and killed him that night! We're going back!" Martinez exclaims, The Governor slowly loosing his sanity as the rest of his men are refusing to go back. There's only one way to deal with such betrayal...

"We're not going back! End of. You want us to kill biters? Of course. But this? This is just crazy. I say we all go home-"

Three bullets enter the man's back as he was turning to jump back into the truck, more bullets flying into the air and latching into people's skin deeply.

The Governor holds down his automatic firearm, shooting down all his men standing in front of him like it's a game. They don't even get time to react properly, one second the noise, the next total darkness.

His face is boring, not one simple expression can be found. Blank. Not blinking. Nothing.

The only person he doesn't gun down is Martinez, him standing by his side not believing what is occurring in front of him.

Blood and bodies makes up the road. Fathers. Sons. Uncles. Nephews. Cousins. And even a grandfather makes up the people laying on the road.

The Governor nods over to Martinez once all his men are dead, shooting some of them again and again to make sure they are dead. He throws over his gun to Martinez and he catches it in mid air, The Governor already in the truck again and waiting for him.

When Martinez opens the door to ride shotgun, The Governor is breathing heavily. His eyes are glued shut, his hands on the sides of the steering wheel aggressively, like he's trying to pull it apart into two separate pieces instead of one.

Martinez doesn't say a word, gulping them down and hopping in, shutting the door behind him.

"I did the right thing," The Governor mutters outloud, like Martinez wasn't suppose to hear. It's like his inner thoughts are being said outloud without him knowing. Clueless. "No other way."

Again, Martinez doesn't say a word. He doesn't want to admit it, but he's petrified at the minute. Even more scared than when the outbreak first happened. This tops it all. Because The Governor doesn't need to be infected. No. He's already dead inside. And that's the scary part.

The truck roars to life, The Governor stepping on the pedal again and leaving his once known trusted men to turn into him: monsters.