Chapter 9: Dead Ahead
I burst through the basement door, searching for a light switch with the hand that wasn't clasped around my knife. I flipped on the lights at the end of the staircase. The basement was a very big room with very little in it. The quietness was eerie.
"What in God's name do you think you're doin'?"
Shane put his hands on my shoulders, spun me around, and threw me to the ground. My head made a loud thump as it hit the cement floor. As I yanked out my knife from my belt, a few startled gasps came from the doorway. Rick came down the stairs, ripping the knife from my hand. Shane's eyes were wide open, staring at me as I wriggled under his grip.
"Get your hands off me!" I said, my hands and arms flailing.
"Just calm down, alright?" Rick shouted. "Stay still!"
"There's a walker down here, don't you get it?" I shouted back at him.
Shock and realization settled over Rick's face. Shane's grip lightened just a little. His eyes were wide too, and he was angry. Again.
"What the hell you think you're talkin' about?" Shane yelled, fuming.
He slammed his arm back down across my chest and put all his body weight on me. I struggled to breathe as I choked on the air caught in my throat. I don't know if it was because I hit my head, but I could've sworn Shane had smoke coming out of his ears. Rick rolled me on to my side, pressing my cheek to the floor. It was strangely refreshing. I stopped pushing back at them as I grew more and more tired. The only sounds left were an occasional creak of the floor boards toward the top of the staircase, out ragged breathing and a soft shuffling sound. Shuffling. Eyes appeared behind Shane.
I sprang to my feet, shoving the cowboys off me. I reached for my knife before I remembered that Rick had it. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I backed away, totally defenseless.
There were a few shrieks and hollers from the peanut gallery. A voice screamed, "Walker! Walker!" No shit, Sherlock.
A gunshot rang out. The woman fell to the floor, face first. Shane lowered his gun. There was another voice from the stairs.
"Mom! Oh, God!" Beth was horrified. "Mom!"
She hurried down the stairs to hold her mother in her arms. Tears streamed down her face while she whispered to herself and to what used to be her mother. She rocked her back and forth and ran her fingers through her hair. I directed my attention back upstairs. Maggie stood with Glenn silently. She collapsed to the floor suddenly, her face in her hands. I truly felt for her. For both of them. It's not easy losing your parents. Not easy seeing them murdered either.
I couldn't stay down there anymore. Pushing past Rick, I worked my way up the stairs. The people standing around had enough sense in them to move out of the way. I fell into a chair at the kitchen table. Hershel if lay on the floor, his dead eyes staring dead ahead. Instantly, I felt a pang of guilt for what I'd done. I had to, but something about it felt wrong to me. I bit my lip to hold back a sob. Man up.
My eyes darted around the room. I couldn't let anybody see my like that. Upset over Hershel? I am such a fucking pansy. I made my way to the window. Slowly, I pulled the curtain back. No walkers? Fear settled in my chest. My head thumping, I walked to the window nearest to the door. Again, I slowly pulled back the curtain. A gasp caught in my throat.
Directly in front of the house was a black girl in a white bandana. Behind her was a dark blue pickup truck that looked a lot like my dad's. In her hands, she held some kind of huge machete. Blood was all over her. Her clothes, her face, the knife. There were walkers everywhere. All of them dead. Really dead. They lay on the ground at her feet. Still breathing heavily, she picked her head up and her eyes met mine. She gave a small nod and I dropped the curtain back over the window.