Beyond Terminus (Book Two)

Chapter 9: Gabriel

"Do you have any weapons on you?" Rick asks.

Gabriel looks around at us, still shaking and looking scared out of his mind.

"Do I look like I would have any weapons?" he asks.

"We don't care what it looks like," Rick says.

"I have no weapons of any kind," he replies. "The word of God is the only protection I need."

"Sure didn't look like it."

"I called for help. Help came." We stare at him, and Gabriel gulps nervously. "Do you have any food? Whatever I had left, it just hit the ground."

"We've got some pecans," I say, grabbing some and handing them to him.

"Thank you."

Judith coos, and he looks in her direction.

"That's a beautiful child," he comments. "Do you have a camp?"

"No. Do you?" Rick asks.

"I have a church."

"Hold your hands above your head." Rick starts to pat him down. "How many walkers have you killed?"

"Not any, actually."

"Turn around." When Gabriel does, he stares hard at him. "How many people have you killed?"

"None."

"Why?"

"Because the Lord abhors violence."

"What have you done? We've all done something," Rick says seriously.

After a long pause, Gabriel speaks again.

"I'm a sinner. I sin almost every day. But those sins I confess to God, not strangers."

"You said you had a church?" Michonne asks.

He nods, and Rick motions for him to lead us.

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"Hey, earlier, were you watching us?" Rick asks.

"I keep to myself. Nowadays, people are just as dangerous as the dead, don't you think?" Gabriel says.

"Nah, people are worse," Daryl says grimly.

"Well, I wasn't watching you. I haven't been beyond the stream near my church more than a few times since it all started. That was the furthest I've gone before today."

We stay quiet, our shoes crunching on the bed of autumn leaves on the ground.

"Or maybe I'm lying. Maybe I'm lying about everything and there's no church ahead at all," Gabriel says, a small smirk on his face. "Maybe I'm leading you into a trap so I can steal all your squirrels."

"You steal my damn squirrels and you get an arrow in the ass," Daryl growls.

"Members of my flock had often told me that my sense of humor leaves much to be desired," the pastor adds, laughing nervously.

"Yeah, it does," Daryl grumbles, and I smirk.