Wings of the Walker - CoraLee June Page 0,212

calmly, as if a benevolent martyr cursed by circumstance. “The law is the law,” he said.

The man next to me smelled like alcohol and fumbled closer, but Huxley shoved him back.

“Is my favorite little Walker here? Ashleigh?” Cavil asked and soon, everyone turned around, searching for the person Cavil called out for—me.

A guard waltzed up to us, and I felt Huxley’s hand grip me tighter. The crowd began pushing and shoving. Two men pulled at Huxley, and when I looked for Kemper, I saw that he was nowhere in sight. Did he disappear? Webb grabbed my arm and pulled me away from Huxley just as Blan punched Huxley in the face. I let out a scream, trying to pull away, but Huxley had already begun swinging back.

“Please stop, I don’t want blood to get everywhere.” Cavil’s voice boomed into the microphone as the crowd laughed.

Soon, I was set on top of the stage for everyone to see. Josiah walked forward to greet me, but Linda grasped his arm, holding him firmly by her side.

Cavil addressed the crowd again. “When Lackley told me his last request, I couldn’t believe that we both had experienced trouble at the hands of the same Walker.” I looked to Lackley, who despite being on the executioner's block, seemed oddly pleased. Again, Josiah tried to walk towards me but didn’t get far without Linda whispering frantically in his ear.

“He wants to kill the Walker that ruined his life, and I’m not one to turn down a dying man’s last wish,” Cavil said, the crowd sharing in his laughter. I could feel the blood lust rolling off of the energetic crowd in waves, slapping me against the cheek with their ruthlessness.

Webb pushed me closer to Lackley, and I fell to my knees at his feet. Blood dripped from his lips onto my hair as he spoke. “I might not be able to kill the Black family or Josiah, but I can kill you—and I think it’ll hurt them more in the long run,” Lackley coughed out with a cackle.

The hooded man approached and time seemed to slow as Lackley continued.

“You’re a pretty little thing. I’m a bit disappointed that it had to end this way. I knew when I saw you at the Stonewell’s that you were just another expendable Walker. A puppet on a string. You were running on borrowed time anyway. And your death makes my end a bit more manageable.”

Josiah broke free from his mother’s tight grip and ran to me, wrapping me in his protective arms before the hooded man could end my life. For a brief moment, I felt like a little girl again, surrounded by Josiah’s protectiveness. Loved and cherished. Gasps from the crowd were drowned out by the thudding of our hearts, and I clung to the comfort he offered while willing him to leave. All this time, I expected him to be the one to die, and yet it was always supposed to be me.

“Ash, I love you so much,” he murmured into my hair as the crowd began to scream out in protest. I felt Josiah’s shoulder get jerked back, but his arms wrapped around me again. It was strange how we’d come full circle. My earliest memories involved Josiah, and now my last ones would, too.

I heard Lackley’s light laughter, and again, someone tried to pull Josiah away. He said, “Remember me.” Then Josiah finally released me just to whirl around and punch the executioner in the face. Linda’s shrill screams echoed off the wooden stage as the crowd laughed. Cavil applauded before taking a sip of wine.

“Looks like we have a show!” he exclaimed into the mic.

I scurried on all fours, away from the chaos, but my dress got caught under my knee, making me slip. Josiah dodged a kick and made his way closer to Lackley as I turned around and scooted backwards, towards the edge of the stage. Josiah’s punches were harsh and precise. Each jab, despite his injuries, hit its intended target. It was strange seeing him this way. He truly was Lackley’s assassin.

The hooded man picked up his electric blade, then spun it around his fingers, making the onlookers go wild with amusement. Josiah stepped closer to Lackley until his back bumped into the frail old man’s chest. Seeing them so close together, I saw the resemblance. Father and son.

The executioner raised his blade, preparing to strike, just as the lights cut. Blood curdling screams filled the space, and the stage began