Chapter 2
Untouchable

Under the light of the waning moon I slipped outside and did something stupidly dangerous.

I had caught my brother using the blind spots of the wall to climb over and escape into the forest with Enid sometimes. I wasn't sure where they went and it wasn't all that important. I just needed to borrow his route for this one time.

It was hard.

The iron walls were tall and I couldn't see the grip hooks on the bars very well. Plus I was a lot shorter than my teenage brother and the holds were further apart… and I was carrying a bag. I skinned most of my hand climbing over and cut up my legs trying to shimmy down. I was clumsy in jumping to the ground and twisted my ankle, not severely but enough to make walking uncomfortable.

I wanted to cry at the sight of the blood on my hands, but I held those tears back. Dad and Carl both suffered far worse injuries than these little scratches. I aspired to be like them when dealing with pain, and if they didn't cry from those wounds I wouldn't cry from these, because I needed to make this trip.

Praying hadn't helped much before, but maybe spells would work where those all hadn't.

Working under dark, for those who've never tried, is difficult enough, but when you're six, it's utterly impossible. I wouldn't have done it but I had read that it was a powerful spell and I had worked for two days to find everything I needed. We already had so little and everyone was gathering things for something else so supplies was limited and most of what I had gathered was taken on the sly. I hated using stolen goods and feared my spell may be compromised with the weight of the crime but I couldn't think about that now.

When I found a decent clearing, I took out the supplies I'd gathered and began my work. Using a small flashlight I scoured the ground for fallen leaves not dried up yet, and folded the hem of my shirt to gather them in. When I had around fifty of them I took a marker from my pack. For every leaf I had found I wrote the name of one person from town on it. Earlier I had asked Michonne for a list so that I could cast spells to protect everyone individually. She had teared up when I asked it and I delivered the list to me without question.

With everyone's name, including my own, on their individual leaf I organized them in a wide circle with the petiole of the leaves touching the tip of the one next to them like joined hands. Inside the circle I put my charm bracelet, arranging it in a smaller circle and inside that I put a white candle which I lit.

Then around all of it I drew a larger circle that I stayed inside myself.

The waning moon shone high and I clasped my hands, closing my eyes tight in prayer.

"Three times the rings go round All evil shall stay on the ground If any evil is near this place It cannot harm those in this space Three times three So mote it Be!"

I repeated the spell twice more and when done I sighed, finished with the spell and hoping dearly it had worked. The wind blew and I opened my eyes, but it made me wish I had kept them closed the next minute.

My gasp sliced through all other sound as I stared at the previously empty space. My heart pounded in my throat and it was all I could do to keep from screaming.

Surrounding me in a perfect circle, were dozens of walkers, of which I was certain were nowhere near this place before I had chanted the spell. Their sunken eyes stared at me in hunger and their moans filled the silence. I was frozen in sheer terror, certain that this would be my last moments alive before they pounced to devour me whole.

Clouds moved in front of the moon and the wind blew out the fragile flame of my candle in a soft and subtle, PUFF!

…And then the world was black and cold.

Invasion
My head spun. My mouth tasted bad and there was drool dripping from the corner of my lips. My body was twisted up in an awkward sleeping position and I was cold. Sluggishly I lifted my head and stared through a dozen or so leaves sticking to my face.

Blearily I looked around my surroundings, wondering what had happened last night. I spotted the candle and the circles I had made from the dirt, the leaves, and my bracelet and everything came flooding back.

The spell! Had it worked?

And the walkers!

Oh no, the walkers!

I should've been dead. I should have bite marks and blood pouring from every inch of my body. I should be devouring and biting and savage the same as any of those other undead monsters. But I wasn't.

I was alright.

Moaning interrupted my thoughts just then and I turned to see a walker trudging straight towards me. I scrambled up, tripping over my own feet as I backed against a tree in horror, thinking that if I wasn't dead, I would be shortly.

My arms flew over my head, prepared for when it would fall to bite and chew me up till my blood painted the ground. But it only hobbled passed me like it hadn't noticed.

"Huh?"

I looked back at it in confusion. What was that about? Did that mean—OH NO!

Was I already dead? Was this what undead life was like? I was probably dead; a spirit wondering around without a body. I'd meet Hershel and Beth and Glenn and Mom and all the rest very soon.

Oh no please don't let me be dead! It would kill my Dad! Absolutely kill him if I was dead! I didn't want him in anymore pain. I had to take care of him and I could only do it properly if I was alive—alive so I could touch and talk and hold him!

In the time it had taken me to get thoroughly panicked, I realized this wasn't how I should have felt. Hershel and Dale and everyone else could testify to that. I didn't feel much different than how I normally felt. I looked down at my hands in observation; they were scratched up, but looked healthy enough from my perspective. Not shrunken or gnarled like regular walkers. So maybe I wasn't dead after all.

No. I wasn't dead.

Just then the sound of horns and large engines drew my attention. I turned in the direction of the road and realized the bad men Michonne had told me about were on their way. I scrambled to grab my charm bracelet from the ground and sprinted towards the wall.

This time was harder to get over than it was the first. My body was stiff from sleeping in that awkward position all night and the footholds were harder to find than they were before. Thinking of it now I'm not sure how that could have been.

Maybe I was just panicked, compared to last time when I was climbing over calmly. I ended up ripping the right knee of my pants as I swung my legs over. Added to that, I slipped and landed the last few feet roughly on my back scraping my elbows pretty bad and winding me enough that I couldn't move for at least a minute.

I breathed carefully, inching back to my feet. I limped my way home only to stop as someone else stole my attention.

I saw Glenn, or rather, Glenn's back as he skidded into the garage of a nearby house. Curiously I followed him. Once inside I saw him holding his head in anguish.

"Glenn?" I asked tentatively entering inside.

"It was him." He whispered, raising his head and staring down at his hands. "He's here; the one that did it. I'm dead and I can still feel it. I can feel what happened. And Maggie… she was there. Oh god she saw it all. And the baby! Our baby!" Then he turned towards me. His face was at first normal, but then it began to change. It was peeling away, like paint peeling off of walls after years and years of neglect. It peeled away, blowing in some imaginary breeze till his head was all gone and he fell to his knees. His body slowly began peeling away as well, in a large cloud of ash.

"Glenn?" I knelt with him, reaching towards his shoulder still crumbling while he sat hunched and holding his vanishing head. "I want to help you. How can I help you? Please, talk to me."

"Hey!"

I jumped and saw one of the intruding men in the doorway. "Out kid!" He barked. "We're taking it from here."

Glenn had vanished from me when they came bursting in. Skidding to my feet I dodged out, cautious and careful about whom I met. I made it to the streets and saw dozens of groups of people, all strangers, combing through every home and taking anything that wasn't nailed down.

My thoughts turned back to my friend, worry freezing my blood solid.

Glenn wasn't gone, that much I knew. He was still lingering, but he was in hiding. He wasn't going to come out until the danger had passed. Sometimes souls that died so violently can't bear the sight of the ones that took their lives. Sometimes the living haunted the ones they killed. And until the threat was long gone I couldn't search to console him.

Just then I turned to see my father and a man I didn't know speaking with one another outside one of the apartments.

It could only have been Negan, the warlord that had hold of us all, the same man that Dad had spoken to everyone about.

It was the first time I ever saw him. He smiled in a way that looked like he owned the world and walked with all the competence of a drunken man. I hated him immediately.

My father looked cowed near him while Negan and his goons strutted around Alexandria with an arrogant swagger that made the blood boil beneath my skin. Dad had wanted me to stay hidden during their visit but I decided to follow the two of them; watching this enemy to study his moves.

I followed a path that kept their backs always towards me and yet still within earshot of what they discussed.

The more Negan talked the more my hatred for him grew.

I saw Daryl as well but he was not how I knew him. He wore a dirty sweatshirt and matching sweat pants with a giant letter A spray painted on the front of it; so different from his winged vest and sleeveless button-up shirts. When my father had tried to speak with him Negan had shut them both up abruptly. None of us were allowed to address him and vice versa. Suddenly I remembered something as I dug in my pocket. It was a squirrel button I had found for him.

Long before all this we had talked about the charms on my bracelet and I told them how each one represented someone dead.

I picked through them, telling him about each, I had even found one for his brother Merle. Everyone already knew I saw things like that. People we had lost, people I had never even met and no one had spoken about with me. Sometimes it scared people, sometimes it upset them, but there was the rare moment when it would give them hope.

I had chosen a fishhook for Merle, and Daryl had asked if it was because he lost an arm, but I hadn't even known. They always appeared whole to me. Any limbs lost in life were restored in their spirits. I chose the fishhook because when I had seen him he reminded me somehow of a big alligator and the hook was to represent that.

I told Daryl that I had found a charm that reminded me of him a few days ago as well and I pulled out a squirrel button to show off.

"I'm not a squirrel!" He announced when I showed him the trinket.

"Yes you are." I argued. "Squirrels are fast and can escape easy and they have really good aim for throwing things at people, and they're smart foragers and they love the forest and the trees, just like you. There's nothing wrong with being a squirrel, Daryl Dixon."

He had been quiet after that.

"I thought about finding an arrow head for you, but the squirrel felt best."

That memory had taken place one year prior. I still had the squirrel button but I had a feeling it may have been needed somewhere else.

While everyone seemed occupied after a gunshot split through the air, I snuck up behind Daryl, tucked it discretely in his hand, and dodged away before anyone had noticed what had happened.

I continued to watch from a safe distance, keeping out of the radar of the strangers but always keeping my father in sight.

I tried to memorize the truly horrible ones, for future reference. Like the ones who took all the guns, the ones who took all the medicine, the ones that took Olivia's favorite chair, the one that teased Enid, the ones that took all the mattresses and the ones in our house namely. I made myself remember them all.

But I made myself remember Negan the most.

In all honesty, I really didn't want to; I wanted to forget it all, like a bad dream, but I made myself remember. I made myself look. It was important for when I would help crush all of them. I wanted to remember every one who would get what was coming to them eventually.

To be Strong like Thunder
I turned round the corner of our hallway and caught the sight of my dad arranging some sheets and blankets on the floor of his and Michonne's room. Without the bed and mattress it looked bare and strange. At the sight of him, my anger for the Saviors melted into pity. Dad looked so broken.

He saw me lingering in the doorway just then and paused.

"Did… did you need something, honey?"

My mattress was gone, too, though they at least left the blankets. I knew he felt worse than I did but I didn't know what to say to make him feel better, so I just came over and took a corner of the sheet he was arranging to help him spread it out.

"We could make some hammocks." I offered shyly as we spread the comforter out.

He paused and looked down at me. Then for the first time in that long weary week, I saw him manage something of a sad smile just for me. "Yeah… we could couldn't we."

"I've seen knot beds, too, in pictures from a book." I added positioning a pillow on Michonne's side. "They hammer a big wooden box together and then tie a net into the frame and people lay down on it."

"That's a really good idea." He said softly. He knelt there for a moment and observed the finished progress of our work. It looked weird and sad, but neither of us commented on it. It was quiet for a long time. Dad seemed to be lost in a daze and I wasn't sure if I should even try talking.

Finally I just decided to go to him and wrap my tiny arms around his slumped shoulders, bringing him in a secure hold as I tried to keep him calm. My gesture didn't quite have the affect I intended. I felt him stiffen for a moment and then begin to tremble as his hands rose slowly to rest on my arms.

Then he regained his strength, sniffing slightly as he gently untangled from my embrace. His hands were still on mine as he moved me to the side so he could look at me carefully. I looked into his eyes and saw desperation and confliction behind them, but I stayed silent as I listened to his words.

"Judith, I need to ask you to do something for me."

"What, Daddy?"

"I… in the next few weeks things might get a little scary. Those people that were here today are… aren't nice people and I need you to make sure that you don't cross them, understand?"

"I know. Michonne told me. I won't attract their attention."

"There's one more thing that I need you to do." He said. "I need you to be strong for me? Can you do that?"

I didn't need to think about it. "Yes, Dad. I'll always be strong—like you."

It was like he had a spasm at those words but he tried hard not to show it to me. "No. Not like me, Judith. Be strong like… like…"

"Like thunder?"

He worked up another sad smile and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Yes, like thunder."

"Okay, Dad."

"Thank you." Then he got up, standing like a tower next to me. "Why don't we make your bed now, kay?"

I took his hand and followed him down the hall to my room.

Vendetta
That night I added two new charms to the chain. I made it the first time Tyrone came to me and I decided I wanted something solid to use to think of them—to represent each of them. There were no pictures of any of them that we had. I had heard of charm bracelets before and thought that maybe I could use those to represent each of these spirits. It made sense at the time.

As I secured the glass Purple Heart and a racecar I used to represent Abraham and Glenn respectively, I stared down at the chain before turning to my now emptier room.

A bitter seed was planted in my chest at the sight of it. I could feel the blood pounding in my ears while I stewed over the events of the day.

They came early, barely left us anything, and demanded we have something next week a lot more interesting. I had read and watched movies about villains; Voldemort, Joker, Maleficent, Ursula, and all of the rest, but none of them compared to these real monsters.

This man, these people, they were less than human! I hated them. Six years old and I hated them with every fiber of my soul! My father wouldn't fight them. We didn't have the numbers or the weapons now. We couldn't scrounge enough to satisfy them. What on earth could I do? How could I help them?

Michonne and Carl said it was nothing for me to worry about, but there I was, worrying about it all the same.

Every day people went out to find more and more and the scavengers came every week to take whatever we had. Everyone was being watched. Everyone was targeted. Everyone… but me.

I found myself staring at the town wall a lot of the time. Thinking deep about the one time I had ventured out on my own. I could see the circle of walkers every time I closed my eyes. I could see their eyes, the hunger inside them. Why didn't they attack me? Why didn't they kill me? Why wasn't I dead?

These questions would not ease and I debated bringing my concerns to someone trustworthy, but I wasn't sure who that was anymore. My father handed everything over to them. He was terrified and I didn't truly know what he would do if I were to tell him of it.

Was this what it had come to? Was I questioning the trust of my own father?

I didn't know what to do? There was so much weighing me down. People told me I wasn't to worry about it. It was not my place to have these worries. Everyone would do their part to take care of each other and me. Somehow we would get through it all. The other kids around town might have put it out of their minds but I couldn't. As I walked the length of the wall and listened to the moans of the walkers behind it, there was no room in me except worry.

Finally I could stand it no longer. Right after I turned seven, I got up from my bedin the middle of the night and used Carl's route once more to sneak over the walls.

I was scared—more than scared actually, but I forced myself forward until I found a walker. Its dead eyes searched the ground, following some unseen path to fill a never ending appetite.

Swallowing hard, I stepped out from my spot behind the tree and stood right before it in challenge. It stopped dead and surveyed me in consideration while I looked straight back at it, waiting for when it would move.

Finally, it began to totter around, sauntering away back to where it had come from.

I stared back, stunned and unable to move. A cold sweat had grown on the back of my neck as I stood there with my body entirely tensed, forgetting to breath or move. When it finally began to amble away and my suspicions were confirmed, I all but collapsed on the ground in relief.

So for one reason or another, the walkers didn't come near me.

But… why?

Was it because of the spell? Did I really have magical powers? I looked down at my hands in awe at the idea.

Was I… a witch?

Tattletale
"Carl? What are you doing?" Normally I didn't sneak up on him like that but for some reason watching him climb over the fence felt different today.

"Nothing." He said, "I'm just going out."

"Going out where?"

"Enid went to the Hilltop. I'm just going to make sure she gets there safely."

Somehow that didn't feel entirely true. I knew he was angry from this morning about Dad leaving with Aaron to get more supplies. Michonne had left too for some reason, but she wouldn't say why. The determined furious look in her eyes told me she was out for blood. It was the same look Carl had in his eye right now.

"You're going to try and kill Negan aren't you?!"

Carl went quiet and he didn't move for a moment. His reaction was as good as admitting it.

"You're not going to kill him, Carl!" I rounded on him, with a matter-of-fact tone. "You're going to mess up! You can't see right and you're going to mess up killing him and he's going to get pissed and rather than kill just you he's going to come back here and kill someone else for it!"

"I won't mess up!" He announced, continuing to scale up the wall.

"Yes you will!" I yelled. "You have terrible aim now. I saw the dart board! You couldn't even hit that and you really think you're going to kill Negan! You're stupid, Carl! And I'm going to tell if you leave!"

"Fine!" He shouted, "Tell if you want! See if I care!"

"You will if you mess up because of your stupid disability now!"

"I am not disabled! You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Well you don't know what you're doing—like always! Michonne already went to go kill Negan herself and she doesn't need you in her way."

That made Carl pause as he glanced over his shoulder down at me.

"Minchonne told you that?"

"I could tell. She gets this look in her eye when she's thinking of doing something risky. And she went out all on her own and had her sword with her!"

"She might need help then."

"Michonne was out there all on her own before we met her." I announced with certainty. "She's brave and can take care of herself. Enid can, too. They're both strong. But you're not! I'm telling you now, if you leave you're going to mess up!"

He looked so angry about being held back. There was so much need for vengeance raging inside him he looked like he might scream.

"Why do you have to be like this? Just let me do what I have to."

"You don't have to do anything! But if you try to do something this dumb, you're not going to be the one who pays for it! Haven't you figured that out yet! You're not the only one who wants to kill him, Carl. So stop being selfish!"

His gaze wavered on me before turning back to the footholds, hesitantly wondering if he would take another step up. He stayed that way for a long time, leaving us both to wonder if he would turn back or not before he finally began to scale down.

Hypocrite
Dad was back that afternoon. Michonne not far behind him, looking defeated. So her attempt had bore not fruit in the end. If she of all people had failed then it had been wise of me to stop Carl when I did.

Dad and Aaron had really scored some good supplies they found in a boat house. No one really celebrated or looked through it all, especially since all of it was only going to go to our enemies. Even after that we weren't completely sure it would be enough to satisfy the Saviors when they got here in a few days, so he would be going out again soon. He considered venturing to DC to look around the small houses and shops around the edge of the suburbs. Going too deep into the city was unsafe, but he figured that it might have been okay if they stuck to the outskirts to make an easy getaway if need be.

Carl was up in his room, seething and pissed that I had made him stay, and from the frequent THUMP THUMP THUMP against the wall I could tell he was taking his anger out on the dart board. He'd get over it though, somehow.

In the meantime I had bigger things to worry about than nursing his ego.

I was still wondering about the spell I had cast around town and my encounter with the circle of dead that had miraculously neglected to kill me. Every time I closed my eyes I saw them surrounding me and I couldn't grasp how it was possible I was still alive somehow.

There were a few times I considered consulting Michonne at the least, but after the Saviors came again the next week to pick up their tribute, I chickened out and decided to keep it to myself. The very last thing I wanted was for such a secret to get back to Negan.

I didn't even want to imagine the horror that could befall us should the news reach that monster that there was someone who was immune to the dead. The constant thought of it continued to taunt me at every waking moment: when I was sitting in school with the other kids, when I was making dinner with my family, or when I was doing my chores around the town. The only place that gave me any real peace was the forest and every day afterwards its call beckoned me like a siren's song.

It finally became too much for me to resist and I chose to slip out of our walls one more time to see what lied in its wake.

I had made a big stink about Carl sneaking over the fence, but I wasn't thinking of playing assassin and risking everyone's lives the way he had been, so he had no right to tattle. Still, it was probably a good idea to be as sneaky as I possibly could. I knew well that if anyone caught me over the other side, I'd be stopped and in big trouble immediately.

As I looked over to the tree line, though, I had a strange feeling that the woods were the single place in the world I could actually be safe.

Author's notes: Something kind of interesting that I feel I should mention is that the squirrel button Judith uses to represent Daryl Dixon is based off an actual squirrel button that a little girl gave to Norman Reedus at a convention. Originally I wanted to use an old arrowhead like Judith describes but after seeing that video I knew that wouldn't do. If you get a chance and haven't seen it yet you should definitely look it up on YouTube. It's the cutest thing ever!