His heart was pounding in his chest. It was almost unbearable, the sort of trepidation.
Confrontation in a post apocalyptic world was an easy feat when having the upper hand. Gareth was used to it; luring people into Terminus, trying to talk to them. And if things didn't work out, he had that power over them. He had control of the situation.
Busting through those doors and stepping foot into that church? He liked to think he still had control, even with their numbers dwindled down to six. But only because he had watched Rick leave with a good majority of his own group, along with a lot of firepower.
Perhaps returning Bob with one less leg didn't settle well with them after all.
Gareth ran down the list of everyone who remained somewhere in that church. Called them all out. It was obvious they were hiding in one of the two rooms in the back, having no other place to run to. But as he did so, an unsettling feeling came over him. He was angry. He wanted revenge. And he had nothing else to lose. Not after his mom and brother. Not after Terminus and the others.
And the longer it drew out, the more time Gareth had to think about the situation as a whole. He couldn't kill a woman. Certainly not a kid. Having nothing left to lose was one thing. But going after Rick's group was plain stupidity. He just couldn't leave it alone though.
"Are we done here?"
Gareth glanced over at Martin as the man lowered his gun. Looked back at the door Greg and Albert were standing at. Both waiting for Gareth's okay. There was a small part of him that didn't know what he was doing. All because nothing happened. He expected them to forfeit. To come out with their hands up, weaponless. But no one moved a muscle or made a sound, other than Judith's short-lived cry.
Greg's body dropped. Albert's body dropped. Blood sprayed on the wall. There were two more thumps of bodies hitting the floor before Gareth could force himself to move, in shock. He gripped his assault rifle and turned to face who he could only assume was Rick. Ready to fire back. Only it was pitch black, the doors still hanging open from when they made their entrance.
A sharp pain tore through his right shoulder. The impact of the bullet knocked him off balance, slightly stumbling back, startled. He dropped his gun in the process and clutched at the wound out of instinct. His head spun as he could feel the warm liquid oozing beneath his fingers.
"Put your guns on the floor and kneel."
Chris. Chris was... No. Rick. It was all Rick. His voice. His face that emerged from the shadows, silenced pistol raised. Sasha, Glenn, Abraham, Maggie, Daryl, Tara. They were all right there with him.
"Do what he says, Martin. There's no choice here," Gareth choked out the words. Got down on his knees, left hand still firmly gripping his injured shoulder. Where the bullet must have entered, it wasn't far from where Chris had... Where Chris had attacked him. He could tell. He could just feel it. Like it was reopened.
He felt nauseated.
"Yeah there is," Martin replied.
Gareth could see Martin still on his feet from the corner of his eye. Couldn't help but watch as he set the gun down and raised his hands, palms facing forward as Sasha advanced on him. He smiled at her. Watched as she pulled her knife and tossed her gun aside.
Martin didn't even fight it. Whether he thought she was bluffing or he just didn't care, Sasha drove the blade through his throat. Pulled it back and drove it forward two more times before she was finished.
Gareth shut his eyes and turned away just as Martin's body hit the ground.
The last man standing. Or rather, kneeling. It didn't get much more pathetic than that.
There was a slight click of a booted foot just in front of him. Footsteps seizing. He opened his eyes and glanced up to find Rick hovering over him. Preying down on him like a damn vulture.
"No point in begging, right?" Gareth forced a pained huff of a laugh. Flinched as a sharp ache shot through his shoulder. Like his body was telling him to just shut up and die with a little dignity. Drop the sarcastic bullshit.
"No." Rick stared.
"We used to help people. We saved people. Until they came in and—" Gareth shivered, lowering his head. Didn't know why he was even trying to explain himself. Everyone was dead. And it was only a matter of time before Rick would kill him, too.
"That guy you had locked up? Looked like he'd been there a while?"
Gareth froze. Slowly moved his head to look back up at Rick as the man continued:
"'We're the same'?" Rick narrowed his eyes in what could pass as slight confusion, cocking his head to the side. "I don't care what happened to you or your people. Bob told us what happened. What you did to him..."
Gareth tried to find the right words. Any words. But his lip only quivered, eyes following Rick as he stooped down in front of him.
"Where's Carol?"
Gareth was able to slightly smile, voice shaking. "You mean the gray-haired bitch?" He had nothing to do with that woman's disappearance but he was flattered Rick automatically pointed the finger at him. He forced a small laugh, twitching, as he recalled. It was dark out, but he knew what he saw. And just the image in his head—her body crumpling upon impact as that car plowed through her... It provided him with a little humor. Like a little slice of karma. "She got what she deserved."
Rick reached forward then, alerting Gareth of the imminent threat. He removed his hand from his shoulder to try and stop Rick, but the man grabbed his wrist. Used his other hand to dig his thumb into the bullet wound. Gareth gasped. Struggled to pull his trapped hand back while he quickly fumbled for the knife on his belt. There was an arm that snaked around his though, catching in the crook of his elbow and pulling back. A rough grip in his hair.
"You ungrateful piece of shit."
Gareth could feel the blood drain from his face, his chest tightening. The pain in his shoulder was enough to make him scream, but he was too stunned to do much of anything. Tried to pull free and shake loose of Rick and Abraham but failed.
We're the same.
He quickly shut his eyes and shook his head.
You never forget your first.
He opened his eyes again. Chris was twisting his wrist and gripping onto his shoulder harder, the pressure unrelenting. He pushed back against his goon holding him from behind, unable to breathe. Feeling like someone or something was constricting his chest. Like he was drowning.
I don't think he's quite clean enough.
Gareth could vaguely feel his legs under him, back on his feet from all his squirming. Pressing against the man holding him to get away from Chris. Chris removed his hands as he straightened his back out, grinning. There were multiple voices talking at once. Voices he could only assume were in his head because there wasn't anyone there. Like they were bickering. Some quiet, some more outspoken. But they all blended together. Indecipherable, as if it was a foreign language.
You ever been fucked before?
Chris took a step forward and Gareth tripped backwards. A grip on the back of his collar stopped him from completely collapsing, briefly giving him the recognition that the pressure had let up on his arm and scalp. No longer being held.
You've become my bitch. And I think it's only fair we make sure everyone knows that.
Gareth tried backing up further before he remembered he still had his pistol. Shakily, he pulled it free from the holster and took aim. Pulled the trigger just as his arm was yanked back, twisted. An arm enclosed around his throat while the gun slipped from his grip. Clawed away with his left hand, his struggles resuming in a wasted attempt.
The room spun, the lack of oxygen suddenly washing over him and making him feel sick.
He could feel himself slipping just before everything went black.