EXTINCTION EVENT | CARL GRIMES

t w o ↣ vendetta

"Bring them into the fold." The black man talks back. He then turns to the woman—the thin one with the green eyes and short, brown hair. "You brought us in."

"Y'all turned up with a shot boy in your arms." She retorts. "You didn't really leave us a choice."

"They can't even defend themselves against the walkers." Glenn states, furrowing his eyebrows at the two others. He looks over at me, offering me a loose smile.

I involuntarily return a simple one, under the relief that someone's actually vouching for me.

"Those three might have less blood on their hands than we do." The black man once again comes to our defense.

It's true. We've all done something to land ourselves in this detention center, but this group has clearly done worse to keep eachother alive out there. The one-legged man is a living, breathing example of it.

"I get people like this," Daryl starts. "Hell, I grew up with 'em. They're degenerates, yeah, but they ain't psychos." He says, talking about us like we aren't here. "I could've been in there with them as easy as I'm out here with you guys."

The main man, Rick, soaks in the different words of his people. He squints his tired, blue eyes in our direction, as his mind races to gather a solution.

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After Daryl, T-dog and Glenn came to our defense, and some heavy negotiating between groups, Rick and his people agreed to let us guard the perimeter as they went out for a run.

Gianna, Rosa and I walk the perimeter of the prison, behind two layers of fencing. All of the walkers that were once there, all lie limp on the ground just outside the fence.

Thanks to me. Well, thanks to Glenn and Carol.

The other girls wanted to spend their time inside the cell block, so I offered to walk the perimeter without them. Because—as long as I have a choice—there's no way I'm spending even more of my time inside of that dark, gloomy place.

"Hey!"

I spin my head around, yet see no one in sight. I scan the gravel path behind me, then the field, then the distant courtyard to the prison. No one.

"Up here!" I look up towards the prison once again and see nothing.

I turn around, tracing my eyes up the guard tower I'm standing next to. They land on the mischievous kid in the sheriff's hat who leans over the railing on his elbow, glaring down at me.

Although he is the one who purposefully caught my attention, his menacing look still troubles me. As if I was the one who'd disturbed his peace.

When we make eye contact, I pull my eyes away and stare down the entrance to the guard tower.

I'd never be allowed to enter through this door, if the world wasn't dying. Sucking in a quick breath, I quickly learn that I need to forget everything that I've been taught, and adjust to the way life is now.

My hand grips the handle to the door, and I hesitantly enter the tower.

When I open the latch in the cabin of the tower, I carefully pull myself inside.

I stand to my feet, only to be held at immediate gunpoint by the boy. I raise my hands up. "What the hell?"

He keeps a cold glare on me.

"What's your deal?" His voice as plain as any.

"What do you mean?" I narrow my eyes at him. "Get that thing out of my face." I take one small step toward him.

He backs up a few steps and cocks it. "My mom was more mad at me for being alone with you than going into the tombs." He says matter-of-factly.

There it is. The reason the mischievous boy bothers with me. To further get at his reluctant parents, who haven't seen much of me—not that they even want to.

Carl bothers because his group would never allow it. His parents don't want him anywhere near me, which makes him that much more intrigued.

"Is that why you called me up here?" I growl at him. "Your people think my people are dangerous, I get it."

"Are you?" He says with no sort of emotion in his voice. "Doesn't seem like it."

"Then why is that thing still pointed at me?" I scoff.

He lowers his guns little, still having both of his hands around the grip.

"Like I asked, what's your deal?" He asks, nodding his head toward me. "Why don't you keep to your people? The other two seem to keep together."

"I don't know." I roll my eyes and fold my arms. "Being cooped up with them for that long makes me keep my distance. I guess I need a break from them."

"They're older than you," He nonchalantly states, looking around at the empty field of the prison. "But it seems like you're the one who tells them what to do."

"Yeah?"

"Why?" He narrows his glare at me.

"Gianna—she's a bit naive. And Rosa—she likes to act like she knows it all, but she doesn't know what's best for anyone." I scowl, thinking about how out of place I feel with them. "They know I have the most sense, they just won't admit it."

"How do you get your people to listen to you?" He shakes his head. "My mom would kill me if she knew I was in here with you."

"Was she really that mad about the infirmary thing?" I say, clearly striking a chord with him.

He rolls his eyes and turns around, sitting down and letting his feet dangle off the edge of the guard tower below the railing. I feel a slight breeze of relief when his gun is no longer pointed in my general direction.

"Everyone here treats me like a kid." He shakes his head and looks outward.

"I guess judgement in a world like this—it really—has no age." I admit to him. "You know just as much as anyone else." I mutter, retreating and opening the latch that leads down to the stairwell.

The boy turns his head around to me when he hears the latch open. I give him one last look before starting to climb back down the stairs.

"But not even that stops you from acting stupid."

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2067 words

A/N

chappy two xoxo

Their dynamic screams "I am a senseless preteen"

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