A One-Sided Fight

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Rick stared at the man.

The man stared back.

For one instant, he felt as if Rick's gaze had gone straight through him. Panic flashed across his face before he smothered it under a hard grin.

"You can kill walkers with a knife?"

He tried to make the smile look vicious.

Then he dragged Rick to the outer gate of the Prison, shoved him down in front of it, and tossed the keys onto the ground.

The muzzle of his gun dipped toward the machete at Rick's waist.

"Then you go in there alone and clear the yard."

"If you don't, I start with them."

Rage surged through Rick.

It felt obscene, almost impossible. A pack of scavengers had found the nerve to bare their teeth at a lion.

He gripped the machete, drew it slowly, pulled in a deep breath, and picked up the keys.

On the other side of the fence, a walker noticed him. It broke into a jerky, stumbling trot and threw itself against the chain-link.

Even from six feet away, Rick could smell the stink spilling from its mouth.

A bead of sweat slid slowly down his back.

He tightened his hand around the machete, but he did not move.

If he opened that gate, then Lori, Carl, and the rest of the group would truly be at the mercy of these men.

What would be waiting for his wife and son after that?

Rick did not dare follow the thought to the end.

Behind him, the man jabbed the gun barrel into his shoulder.

"What are you thinking about? You scared?"

As soon as he said it, the men behind Rick broke into another round of laughter.

They were terrified of walkers.

Against living people, they were bold as hell.

Rick shut his eyes and clenched his jaw. His mind ran hard, searching for any way out.

Then, at the edge of the breaking point, the radio clipped to Rick's belt crackled.

"...zzzt... hey... unlucky bastard standing at the fence. Miss us?"

Rick's eyes snapped open.

The moment felt familiar.

Absurdly familiar.

Rescue had come over a radio once before.

Before he could move, noise broke out behind him where the others were kneeling.

The man holding Rick wavered. He kept the gun jammed into Rick's shoulder, but his head turned toward the disturbance.

Rick turned too.

A drop of sweat rolled down the bridge of his nose and fell from the tip.

In that instant, Rick moved.

The machete in his hand whipped back.

Its edge cut through the falling bead of sweat and bit hard into the man's gun arm.

Pain hit the man so hard he staggered back, cold sweat bursting across his face.

He stared at Rick in disbelief, then at the hand lying on the dirt, blood pumping from the severed wrist.

Rick gave him no time to understand.

His face tightened.

Muscles stood out across his arms as he stepped in and dragged the machete across the man's pale throat.

The strike was too fast to follow.

The man's world went black.

Five minutes earlier, Evan had stopped the motorcycle.

The Map in front of him showed a wide, open area with no tree cover.

"Found it."

Relief flashed across his face.

He motioned to Daryl and Merle, climbed off the bike, and headed into the woods on foot.

The trees ahead were too thick for the motorcycles.

The three men pushed through several dozen yards of brush before the view opened.

None of them smiled.

Rick's group was on its knees.

The joy that had still been on their faces was being crushed under gun barrels before they had even understood what was happening.

Crouched in the grass, Evan glanced at Daryl.

Daryl had already lifted his crossbow without making a sound.

Evan raised a hand and pressed the crossbow down, giving him a small shake of the head.

Daryl and Merle both looked at him, not understanding.

Evan pulled the radio from his jacket, pointed at Rick, then at the others kneeling on the ground.

The meaning was simple.

They needed the right opening.

Rick's exchange with the man carried clearly enough for all three of them to hear.

Evan waited, watching Rick walk step by step to the Prison gate and draw the machete at his waist.

When Rick stopped in front of the gate and closed his eyes, Evan tapped the radio in his hand.

Daryl and Merle gave the smallest nods.

They understood.

When the corrections officers started laughing, the killing intent in Evan's eyes deepened.

He used their loose, arrogant laughter to cover the radio static, leaned close, and spoke.

It was the signal.

Rick had to move now.

Evan dropped the radio.

The Stone Sledgehammer was already raised high in his hand.

Under the stunned eyes of the armed men and the kneeling group, Evan hurled it.

The hammer struck one man square in the body.

His eyes bulged. Blood burst from his mouth, and the remaining force drove him backward into a tree.

For several seconds, he hung there as if nailed to the trunk.

Then his head tipped sideways, and he collapsed.

In the opening those few seconds created, Daryl's crossbow twanged and Merle's rifle roared at the same time.

Without the hammer in his hand, Evan sprinted.

The veins in his legs stood out as he threw himself forward like a pouncing tiger, slammed one man to the ground, and twisted his neck until it broke.

He turned and kicked the body away hard enough to send it flying several yards.

Shane had been pinned to the ground.

He had also been waiting.

The instant the pressure on him broke, he grabbed a pistol, rolled low across the dirt, and fired.

Two shots to the body.

One to the head.

Three cracks ended any chance of the man getting back up as a walker.

Glenn snapped his head up and smashed it into the guard holding him down.

The guard reeled.

Maggie pulled the hunting rifle from her back and fired into his stomach.

Bang.

The smell of gunsmoke spread across the road.

The fight had ended in seconds.

Evan had killed at least three by himself.

The rest fell to Daryl, Merle, and the others working together.

Their leader died farther off, his throat opened by Rick's machete.

Only one corrections officer remained.

After watching the others die one after another, he lost the will to fight. He threw his gun away, collapsed onto the dirt, and lifted both hands in surrender.

Shane told Lori to cover Carl's eyes.

Then he gripped his pistol, strode to the last man, and brought the butt of it down.

"Aah!"

The man clutched his face and screamed.

Just hearing it felt good to more than a few people in the group.

But as Shane lifted the gun again, Dale hurried forward.

"Don't, Shane... there are children here."

Dale met Shane's furious eyes with a sincere, pleading look.

Shane paced in a tight, angry circle, turned back toward Dale, and was about to speak.

Then Evan silently picked up the handle of the Stone Sledgehammer.

He dragged it across the dirt, metal and stone rasping with every step.

He walked to the man cowering on the ground.

Under the pressure rolling off Evan, Dale took two steps back.

Evan looked at the man's begging face and let out a short, humorless laugh.

Then he lifted the hammer.

His tall shadow covered the last of the sunlight and dropped the man into darkness.

"No..."

The scream never came.

Evan's eyes went still, and the hammer fell.

Blood splashed across his face.

Carol and Lori moved at once, covering the children's eyes.

Amy and Beth turned away, unable to watch.

Evan raised his head, a few drops of blood on his face, and looked calmly at the group.

Most of them did not look away.

They watched him and swallowed despite themselves.

Looking at the last man crushed into the dirt, many of them felt a grim satisfaction beneath the lingering fear.

They all knew it.

If Evan, Daryl, and Merle had arrived any later, that could have been them.

Trash who only found courage when the blade was pointed at other humans did not deserve pity.

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