CHAPTER TWENTY THREE － THE BLADE HURLER

"Drop your weapons! Now!" A voice on the roof top shouted, Gareth's, if Kate was correct. There were eight figures on the top of the surrounding buildings, although she had zero clue as to how they managed to get up there; and that wasn't even accounting for the people hiding in the bushes by the fenceline. It was clear they were drastically outnumbered, and that even if one of hem tried to fight right hen and there, it'd only end in everyone else getting killed in the process.

Slowly, they each dropped their weapons, though Kate was now immensely proud of herself for hiding her dagger, as it offered her something more than just her bare hands and feet for defending herself and the others. She raised her hands into the air, eyeing her friends as they did the same.

The muffled yells from inside the neighboring train car had silenced, as though they were listening, waiting. They must have passed at least four or five other ones so far ever since they'd realized Terminus wasn't a sanctuary after all. It felt eerie, like there were eyes on her from the dying people inside.

"Ringleader, go to your left." Gareth instructed. "The train car. Go. You do what we say and then the boy goes with you. Anything else, you die and end up in there anyway."

Rick was halfway to the train car, practically dragging his body every inch of the way, when Alex's voice came out next, "Now the archer." He was fine, of course, though rather frazzled physically due to having a gun against his head minutes ago. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair standing up in several places.

Daryl was the next to move, following after Rick with his eyes glaring up at the rooftops.

"Now the samurai," Alex instructed once again, making Michonne roll her eyes at he comment and walk off to the left.  Rick was at the door already, glancing around as if trying to convey their surroundings to memory. "Then the white knight."

Mason looked around, as if trying to decipher which of them Alex could've been referring to, before he realized that was supposed to represent himself. He was the only white guy left, and Carl was being referred to as the boy. Kate wondered if it was the staff in his hand that gave the impression.

"Now the other girl." Alex continued, pausing to think. "The wisp. The shorter one that's a dead girl walking."

Nadia shrugged at the title, shoving her hands into her pockets and making quick work in order to get back to her husband.

Gareth spoke next, staring directly at Kate. "Now, the blade hurler－ and don't think I missed the way you keep shifting your feet around where you stand. Take the knife out  of your boot, or I shoot the kid."

So much for thinking she was slick. Kate sighed, shaking off her boot and letting the dagger cink against the gravel around her. Her white sock was dark from how long it'd been since she washed it, it'd been maybe a week since they'd come across a river, and sheonly had two pairs of clothes on her to begin with, including the ones on her body now.

Kate glanced at Carl, who nodded back st her, signaling that he'd be alright while she followed after the rest of the adults. It worried her greatly to see him alone with so many guns pointed in his direction, but he seemed more worried for the rest of them.

"Stand by the door. Ringleader, archer, samurai, white knight, wisp, and blade hurler." Alex stated. "In that order."

She probably should've been more pissed off about the fact that they hadn't bothered to remember their names. She knew theirs, she knew who they were, but they'd decided to make a game out of the disastrous situation, referring to them like they were just characters, and not real people.

"My son!" Rick practically growled.

He sighed. "Go, kid."

Carl ran over immediately, not wanting to be apart for another second, whereas Gareth didn't seem to entirely care, instructing, "Ringleader, open the door and go in."

"I'll go in with my son."

"Don't makes kill him now." Alex yelled.

Each of them took turns entering into the pitch black train car, which would be slamed shut just moments after Carl got inside at the end. Only small peaks of sunlight gave Kate any idea of the layout, which wasn't much. Just long walls and a thin space. It was meant for boxes, not people. She couldn't even breathe properly, only smelling a mixture of metal and the nasty unwashed mouths of everyone else; it was warm, making her grateful that it was ao late in the year rather than the middle of the summer.

The sound of footsteps nearly made Kate jump out of her skin, practically akin to feeling unsafe and at risk. She'd known it earlier, and she knew it now. They weren't alone in that train car. Eight shadows loomed over the other end of the cage, but one stepped forwards.

"Katie? Rick?"

Kate stomped forwards, wrapping her arms around her baby brother silently. She wasn't crazy, she wasn't in denial. Her family was alive. Glenn, Maggie, Sasha, Bob; they were okay. Next to them were three strangers: wo men and a hispanic woman, along with a girl who Kate remembered vividly. A brunette woman who'd been on the wrong side of the prison gates that day.

Nadia let out a soft laugh, wrapping her arms around the woman, Mason following after her to clasp their hands together in a brotherly type greeting. The woman seemed just as surprised, hands shaking slightly as she embraced them in return.

Maggie noticed Kate's glance at the reunion nearby. "They're our friends. They helped save us."

Daryl nodded, eyes darting to them as well. "Yeah, so are these two. Now they're friends of ours too."

One of the strange men, an older fellow who wore a thick ginger mustache, muttered underneath his breath. "Yeah, for however long that'll be.

"No," Rick said, peeking iut through one of thr train car slits. "They're gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out."

"Find out what?"

"They're fucking with the wrong people."

The group spent their first few nights in the train car getting introductions and reunions out of the way. Tara, the girl who'd been at the prison that day, was leaning against Nadia's shoulder as a pillow, drowning out Abraham, Eugene, and Rosita's recountment of the shitstorm they'd wound themselves into when they'd all arrived a day prior.

Eugene, the rather timid and arrogant man, supposedly knew how to save the world. He knew what caused the outbreak, his several degrees and scientific studies providing him with the clever idea to travel all the way from Houston to DC. Abraham, the ginger man, had been a part of the military, and made it his entire life's work to get him there. Rosita was a bit younger than the both of them, in her late twenties, and just appeared to be over their bullshit at all times, but she believed in their mission too, and she'd wanted to help.

Kate didn't know whether or not she believed it. It's sounded too good to be true, especially with Eugene's lack of a direct answer whenever Michonne asked what the solution was. He'd dart around it, spitting out some fancy words that could easily be dumbed down to 'its classified.' But both Abraham and Rosita seemed like smart people, and if her brother believed in Eugene so strongly, she could at least try.

Terminus fed them well, and quite often, but they'd always come in two people at a time, and never the same two. One would be holding an automatic rifle, the other one setting down a big help of servings for them, mostly just canned goods of some sort. They'd be gone as quick as they came, sometimes only coming once a day or every few, from what Glenn said.

The group thought it'd be best to start using their limited daylight time to statt crafting weapons out of what they had on hand, sharpening anything against the walls; rocks from their shoes, shoelaces, even a pen. Carl had made a tiny joke about it when he noticed Kate instinctively go to her boot, only for her to remember her dagger was reclaimed.

The Blade Hurler. That was what Gareth had called her, all because he knew she had another knife hidden the entire time. Carl suggested the title was badass, even though it hadn't been created under the best circumstances.

"How'd he even know your dagger was in your boot?" Carl inquired at one point while sharpening a stick they'd found inside. "I thought it was hidden so well."

"It wasn't exactly comfortable. I had to take off the holster for it so that they wouldn't notice it on my pants. I was definitely walking funny so that it wouldn't cut me or rip a hole in my sock." Kate replied. "Gareth was probably expecting me to throw it at him. Wish I did way sooner, but I probably would've missed."

"Throwing knives sounds really cool," Glenn cut in, tying a few shoelaces together from next to her. "You should learn how to do it, since you're not big on guns."

"Won't matter if I'm in a shoot out."

"Well, people are gonna run out of bullets eventually," Rosita said. "Eugene knows how to make them, but it's not like we have the supplies for it right now. Having a backup skill would be a good idea. Plus, it'd still be useful in a gun fight. They won't be expecting a knife. And if you get good enough, you'll be able to do it with more than one in each hand."

Kate paused, thinking about it to herself. "Do you know how?"

Abraham looked over at them. "I knew a guy that used to juggle knives back when I served in the army. A party trick, as he liked to call it. Of course, the prick missed and stabbed himself in the end, but I know enough to show you if we survive this."

"We will," She replied firmly, pressing her lips in a firm line at the mention of getting stabbed. But, If Rick said they would make it out of here, then she believed him. They'd get out, no matter what they had to do in the process. She'd already killed a man with just her feet before. Piece of cake.

It hit her like a train of bricks right after. She'd killed people before, in cold blood and without question. Back during the prison war, she hadn't thought about too much. At the time, it was life or death and she only had a few seconds to choose life every time. Before Woodbury, she and her ex never even really ran into anybody alive within their two months on the road until the Governor saw them. And even then, that was just pure luck.

Kate had never actually stabbed anyone alive who'd died at the prison either. Only ever the dead. That guy on the tracks, Leonard, he'd been her first kill by her God given body itself. The boots she wore were definitely helpful, obviously, and had done most of the damage, but it'd still been in cold blood, even if it'd been to stop herself from getting sexually assaulted and...

She gently rubbed her throat. It still ached, and the necklace once given to her as a birthday gift by Beth was now ripped off and in her hands as a weapon in case she needed to choke someone. Maybe Kate didn't need to like what she was doing, or how it made her feel, or who se was becoming; she actually feared it－ but at least the people she loved would get to live if she did. There was no such thing as a truly good person anymore. Rick was right.

Chatter came from outside, which wasn't unheard of since the train cars were in their territory, but it was closer now, enough to where she could hear them laughing and bickering about someone one guy liked.

"Alright," Daryl said. "Got four of them pricks heading this way."

"You all know what to do," Rick told him quietly as they all stood and faced the entrance, their makeshift weapons at the ready to stab whoever came in to feed them next. "Go for their eyes first, then their throats."

The chatter outside went silent, a firm voice replacing it. "Put your backs to the walls on either side of the car now!"

They didn't move, and Kate fixed her grip on her necklace. It wouldn't exactly stab anyone's eye out, but if she was sneaky enough, that man outside would be down before she needed to asphyxiate him. But he wasn't outside like she'd thought. After less han five seconds, she heard footsteps on the roof, and it was too late. A small object was dropped inside, and Abraham recognized it instantly.

"Move!"

Kate, the closest to it, hadn't even been able to take a step before it'd gone off, shooting thick blue smoke out into the train car. She was the one choking instead, collapsing onto her hands and knees. She couldn't see, only crawl around in an attempt to find someone, anyone. The door across from her slammed open, though it didn't bring in enough light to clear her vision.

The man who'd stepped inside was wearing a gas mask, walking around and beginning tondrag something out－ friends she couldn't even see through the smog, friends who'd fallen unconscious from the gas. And she didn't even know who.

Her hand grabbed onto a warmer one, larger and rougher than her. It could've been Daryl's maybe, perhaps even Abraham's, but she knew it wasn't. She recognized the hand with just her sense on touch, having held it many times before. It was Rick's, and it'd gone searching for hers too.

Rick was trying to pull her closer when he was dragged away by the boots on his feet, his firm grip taking her with him for half of the trip, but letting go as he'd been tossed onto the gravel outside. The raven haired woman as forced to watch as the guy with the gas mask ripped it off of himself, glaring at Rick as he kicked him in the face, knocking him out cold.

The man's glare transferred to her hazy eyes next, and she barely even had the side to sit up before he'd shoved her back by the face into the car. The minute Kate's head and back met the cold metal floor behind her, she was out too.