Don't Let Me Go ~ A Carl Grimes Fanfiction

Chapter Nine

No one really sleeps much that night. When I finally dose off, it feels like only minutes later Daryl is shaking me awake. “C’mon,” he says. “I’ve told your mom. We’re goin’ huntin’.” He helps me to my feet.

“Does this mean I finally get to try the crossbow?” I ask, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

“We’ll see,” Daryl answers, smiling. I lift my weapons.

“It’s about time we had some meat anyway. Squirrel, rabbit or deer?” I ask.

“Whatever we can get,” Daryl says. We walk for about twenty minutes. I raise my rifle, hoping for some big game.

“How am I supposed to shoot a squirrel with a rifle?” I ask.

“It’s okay. Your bullets are small enough and that rifle is quiet enough. Now, shut up. You’re scaring the food away,” he says. Immediately, I see a relatively small rabbit. Without hesitation, I line up my shot and fire. I hit it in the back of the neck, which means there’s no damage to the body.

“First kill,” I say, quietly.

“Yeah. Keep tracking,” Daryl says huffily. I pick up my rabbit and put it in the black bag I have with me, and I raise my rifle again. A minute or so later, Daryl shoots a squirrel. “One all,” he says, grinning. Hunting always turns into a competition for us. Daryl reminds me of my real uncle. He was almost always serious, but he had his occasional jokey spell. “You wanna switch?” Daryl asks.

“Yeah!” I answer. He slings my rifle over his shoulder and he shows me how to hold the crossbow. I see a squirrel scamper down a tree trunk and shoot at it. Instead of getting it in the head or the body, the arrow pins the squirrel’s tail to the tree.

“You always have to remember to shoot a bit in front of a squirrel. Think of how fast they move,” Daryl says.

“Yeah,” I say, giving him his crossbow. “I think I’ll stick to my rifle. Still, food is food,” I say and I walk over to the squirrel. In one twist, I wring it’s neck, since it’s the most humane way. I pull the arrow from the tree, and catch the squirrel, slipping it into my black bag.

By the end of the hunt, I have three rabbits and a squirrel, and Daryl has five squirrels. “How ‘bout we call it a draw?” I say. “Besides, my rabbits are bigger than your squirrels combined.” Daryl grunts in response. We head back the way we came. Daryl steps on a stick which makes a loud snap. We hear guns click and my stomach drops. We turn around and I’m relieved to see that it’s just the group. “We surrender,” Daryl says, raising his arms and his squirrels. I walk to Carl, who’s carrying my bag, as well as his own. I take it from him.

“What did you catch?” he asks.

“Three rabbits and a squirrel. Dinner tonight,” I say, nudging him with my elbow.

“Yeah,” he smiles.

“HELP! HELP!” we hear yells in the distance. Carl’s smile falls off of his face he leaps forward a few bounds, and then looks back at the rest of the group.

“Dad, come on!” he shouts. “Come on! Come on!” he yells at Rick, who hesitates. After a few seconds, Rick runs too. We all head towards the screams. We come into a clearing and see a man in a black suit on top of a large rock, surrounded by walkers. Carl shoots one and I stab another with my biggest knife. A few of us pick of the walkers while the others stand back and make sure no more appear. When we think that they’re all dead, Glenn looks around the rock to make sure.