SAXON IS NOT DEAD.

~Rebel's POV~

"Get off 'em Rebel." Daryl grunted, pushing me off Saxon's bleeding body.

"He's dying!" I yelled at him.

I struggled to move to where I could safely examine Saxon's wound. Daryl looked up at me and his eyes hardened, making him look intimidating.

"He deserves to." Daryl said harshly.

I flinched at his words and scrambled to my feet, wiping my stinging hands on the pockets of my jeans. I didn't glance back at Daryl or Saxon as I walked back to the RV. Blood was flowing through the knees of my jeans and the palms of my hands were grazed enough to bleed profusely.

"Hershel," I called, "You mind checking out Saxon's wound? Daryl shot him in the arm."

Hershel nodded at me and hobbled down the steps on his new crutches and with Beth and Lori's help, he made his way towards Saxon.

Daryl had followed me back towards the RV and he kept trying to talk to me, but I wouldn't hear it. Just because Saxon did what he did, doesn't mean he deserves to die.

Daryl had aimed to kill and if he had another shot, he would've taken it without hesitation.

I moved towards the paper towels in the RV and I dabbed them with the scarce amount of water I had left. I blotted the blood from my hands, hissing when it came into contact.

"Lemme' help." Daryl muttered, trying to take the cloth from my hands.

"No." I snapped, wiping the cloth the slightest bit rougher across my hands, increasing the pain.

Daryl stood there watching me for a few moments before huffing and exiting the RV. Through the window I saw him board his bike and lean back against the seat, waiting for us to move on again.

I didn't notice when I subconsciously moved out of the RV after him, but I didn't follow him to his bike. Instead, I sat on the ground next to Saxon while Dale worked to cut the arrow out of his bicep.

His cries of pain were muffled by Beth's hand and Lori was doing her best to hold Saxon down without getting in Hershel's way. Tears slipped down my cheek as I watched him thrash around in pain, trying to escape the grasps weakly.

"How long did you know him?" Hershel asked.

I could see that he was trying to take my mind off all the blood that Saxon was spilling, and it wasn't really working.

"Since I was 15." I muttered, not taking my eyes off Saxon's arms and Hershel's skillful hands.

"That's nice. Did he ever break any bones around you?" Hershel prodded at Saxon's arm tissue and I sucked in a breath.

"Yeah. He was a wrestler and took habit to fight with my brothers." I said, the memory making my eyes glassy.

"I'm sorry for what he did to you." Beth said taking my hand in her free one.

I squeezed her hand tightly and leaned against her shoulder, taking joy in the human comfort she was giving me.

Daryl's face was red and you could practically feel the anger radiating off of him from where he sat on his bike.

"Alright! I think we need to camp overnight. Saxon is clearly in no condition to move on so we may be here for a few days. Set up camp!" Rick ordered.

Daryl immediately got off his bike and walked over to Rick, his face turning darker and his eyes taking on an eery presence.

"Rebel, would you join us?" Rick asked me softly.

I nodded and followed Rick and Daryl a ways off into the trees a sense of déjà vu hitting me as Daryl leaned against a tree and Rick stood off next to him.

"Why am I here?" I asked them.

Daryl snorted and crossed his arms across his chest, making him look that much more intimidating.

"You're the final decision." Rick told me.

"Final decision of what?"

"If Saxon stays or goes. Daryl wants him to leave as do the women in the group, but most of the men, including me, would like him to stay because of his fighting skills. It's up to you." Rick said.

I sucked in a deep breath. Saxon was my ex-fiancé and I still loved him, but what he did was practically unforgivable. He had hit me and said things I knew he wouldn't take back and that he actually meant.

"You're wrong." I said, my voice strangely monotonous, "It's Saxon's decision. Once he comes to his senses and is strong enough to fend for himself, then he can choose. We're not forcing anyone to stay here."

Rick nodded in agreement and Daryl scowled at the ground, signaling that he was paying attention. He turned away from us and walked off deeper into the woods.

As he was leaving, I notice a dingy rucksack on his back with a few water bottles and several hunting knives. His bag was stuffed with supplies and this made me worry about him.

"Where is he going?" I asked Rick, knowing that Daryl would tell him.

"Hunting. He hasn't been in awhile and we're running low on food supplies." Rick told me.

"Oh." I whispered.

"He's only going to be gone for a few days." Rick said, catching on to my worried state.

A few days? He could be dead and we wouldn't even know. He could get bit, come back and attack all of us once he changed.

I knew he wouldn't let that happen. He would shoot himself. He was the kind of guy that would take anyone out, including himself, for the benefit of the group.

"Don't be worried, Rebel. He'll be okay." Rick said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I shrugged it off and walked back towards our makeshift camp. Glenn and T-Dog had set up the campfire and Carl was helping Carol and Lori with serving the small amount of dinner we had left on blue plastic plates.

I grabbed two of the plates and climbed the RV to where Dale sat in his camp chair. I handed the plate of squirrel meat and wild roots to Dale and he thanked me with a nod.

I sat next to his camp chair and started to chew on the earthy roots, taking my time in eating the meal. I knew it wouldn't last long and I wanted to savor the small amount of it.

Dale and I didn't speak as this was our normal routine. We would sit together, but we didn't converse. This was the only quiet time I got during my busy days and Dale respected that.

I slowly chewed the lean squirrel meat and leaned my head against Dale's knee, enjoying the fatherly comfort he gave me.

Dale placed his hand on my shoulder, not trying to get my attention, but trying to show me I was safe for the now. And that's what if felt like, for just a moment, everything felt safe.

That's when it all came crashing down.

An arrow flew through the air and everything seemed like it was in slow motion as it pierced the flesh of an unsuspecting Shane.

Cries made their way through the camp and panic struck my body. Adrenaline jolted through my veins and I jumped off the roof, aiming my bow in the direction that the attacker seemed to come from.

"Come on!" I yelled at the forest, "Afraid of a girl?"

As soon as the words came out of my mouth, two men came out of hiding. They had hoods over their heads and one of them had a stump as an arm. I was standing in their line of sight, and obviously I was their first option.

The one with both arms grabbed my arms and what felt like handcuffs locked around my wrists. A dirty sock gagged my mouth and a bag was pulled over my head, cutting off my movement, speech and sight.

I thrashed around the best I could, but it was no use. I tried to scream, but the gag blocked it. As far as I could tell, no one was doing anything to help me.

I was shoved into something and I felt myself being forced to sit down. The bag was removed off my head as was the gag, but the handcuffs remained.

A sharp knife pressed to my throat, so even though the gag was gone, I still couldn't speak. An ugly, dirty face came into my view and a sense of familiarity hit me.

The face was different, but the blue eyes held promises of pain and death, but they were still the same shade of blue that made me so weak in the knees when they were on the face of someone else.

"Pretty little thing, 'aint ye'." the scratchy voice said.

Familiarity came over as he spoke, the same eyes and accent. This couldn't be a coincidence.

"Oh," the man clicked his tongue, "Cat got yer' tongue, pretty bird?"

I spat saliva over his face and he flinched back, chuckling slightly.

"Shouldn't 've done tha', pretty bird." he told me.

A sharp pain spread through my right shoulder and I knew better than to cry out. It's what he wanted from me --- a reaction.

"Ye' should know, tha' fer' e'ry thing ye' do wrong, i's gon' cost ye'." his breath stank of whiskey and cigarettes.

The vehicle we were in came to a stop and the doors were tossed open, letting light flood the dark cabin. A man stood there, he was handsome but looked over confident, like he thought he out ruled everyone in his presence.

Like it was a prize that he had survived this long.

It wasn't though. It was more of a curse than a gift. If you were strong enough to live, then you had to remain that strong. You couldn't let your guard down once, or everything that you had built up would come crashing down.

"What'd you get this time, Merle?" the man asked.

Merle chuckled, "Pretty bird over here. She's a real spitfire."

Merle forced me to stand with his stump of an arm and he pushed me roughly out of the truck. My head hit the ground as neither the man nor Merle had given me time to adjust my balance.

"Now, now. She's a guest, not a prisoner." the man scolded Merle lightly, although you could see he wasn't really angry at him.

"Untie her and take her to the infirmary. As soon as Dr. Stevens has her fixed up, show her to her room." the man instructed him.

Merle saluted the man and said something along the lines of, "Yes, Governor."

Merle prodded me into a small, brick building that smelled of antiseptic and bleach. A small, dark-skinned woman with a pair of smart glasses and black scrubs on.

"Follow me." she said in a short, clipped tone.

I struggled to keep up with her fast pace as the pain in my shoulder increased. Blood was seeping through my thin, cotton shirt and the metallic smell was overwhelming my senses.

She gestured for me to sit on a metal lab table and I did as she told me to when she started to clean the wound.

Somewhere throughout the whole thing, the man that Merle had called 'Governor' stepped in and watched, leaning against the doorway as if he was a student observing a class.

"Thank you, Dr. Stevens. That will be all for now." The Governor told the doctor.

She nodded and scurried out of the room, eager to tend to other things. She almost slammed the door behind her as she rushed out. She made it seem like the room was unbearable.

"If you follow me, I'll show you your room." The Governor said.

"I don't see why you had a room arranged. I'm not staying." I informed him, wondering if he was expecting this answer.

"Why is that?" he asked, sounding bored with the conversation.

"I have a group. I don't want to be here and you don't seem like the kind of guy that would force anyone to stay."

The Governor chuckled and moved to stand closer to me, keeping only a few feet in between us. He inspected his clean nails, daring for the slightest bit of dirt to show itself.

"You're right. It's dusk now, so I suggest you stay the night and then we'll let you go." he turned to leave expecting me to follow him, but not before he added a few words.

"Unless you choose to stay."

I scoffed and followed him out of the infirmary. We walked through the door and what I saw was genuinely surprising.

What seemed like a small town was set up and people were moving around the streets, preparing themselves for the night. A man in a lab coat and reading glasses rushed past us in a hurry, documents clutched tightly in his hands.

As I was lead to the room, everyone stopped, smiled and said hello to the Governor, truly intrigued with who I was.

More people than not asked if I was the Governor's new 'aquaintance', but just the thought or the asking of it made me want to vomit.

He seemed like a repulsive man and I didn't intend staying longer than absolutely necessary. If the Governor had told me where we were, I would've left already.

There was also the fact that my bow and arrows had been confiscated in the truck and they were the one thing I refused to leave without.

Once we reached the room, the Governor started to tell me about all the normal, past-life things they had to offer.

Hot showers, electricity, gasoline for cars, protection, houses, refrigeration, ice cubes, blankets, heating, air conditioning, toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant, reading material, plumbing and not to mention the large supply of packaged food and sugary drinks that everyone needed.

I declined his offer for a proper meal (with utensils and an actual table) and decided to turn in early. He had told me that curfew was at dark and there would be no exceptions had we broken the rules.

All the people seemed friendly and worry-free, but you could tell that underneath the layers of fake happiness, they all feared the worst.

I didn't know a single person who didn't.

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