EXTINCTION EVENT | CARL GRIMES

n i n e t e e n ↣ good to go

"How many people have you killed?"  My voice sounds out. It's only as the words roll off the tip of my tongue that I realize killing people isn't something for the two of us to be joking about.

"Two." He answers, the smiles fading from both of our faces.

Not knowing what else to say, I continue with the last of the three questions. "Why?"

"One was an accident." Carl starts, a breathy sigh to follow. "The other was a precaution. That boy in the woods." His dreadful voice almost putting him in pain as he says the words. "Not that I don't regret both."

This whole time I'd thought that the boy from the war was the only one he'd killed. Another living body down—under the boy's responsibility—was something I hadn't expected. My mind ponders the possibility of this second death happening before or after we met. Maybe even in the past few days while we were separated.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Carl's sarcastic tone redirects the conversation toward me after the tense moment of silence.

"The number has definitely gone up today. I killed every one I came across." I say, trying to break the barrier of talking about what happened to us while we were apart.

"People?"

"None, yet."

"Why?"

"Eventually, I'll have to." I start, accepting that this world will force me to kill or be killed. "I would've killed that man—back at the car." I say, nearly tripping over my own words as I reiterate who I'm talking about.

"I would've, too." The boy says. His serious voice rings out, a new depth from his vocal chords I almost didn't notice. "You could've done it, you know. If he didn't show up. You could've saved us."

"That's what I'd like to think."

"That's what would've happened." Carl's head moves forward as he lowers his stern voice closer to my face.

The boy doesn't allow either one of us to consider the other possibility. It didn't happen so it isn't a problem. A close call is just that—a close call.

"Yeah." I breathe out, the lack of opacity in my voice allows for the raspiness to make itself known.

Nothing but the sounds of our slow breaths are present in the air surrounding us. Silence creeps its way in between every breath and—in turn—fizzles out when our chests fall with the release of another shy breath.

My eyes search around for any excuse to ignore the thoughts of that man's hot breath. His sticky sweat. The feeling of his long hair tickling my forehead. The look on Carl's face as the man whispered in his ear. My arms being squeezed so tightly to my ribs that I can still feel the pressure from the ridges of the bone protruding from my thin, starved chest. I don't know what would've been worse, Carl having to see that happen to me, or seeing that happen to him. Would those men even have killed us after? Or would we have to live with wh—

Aaron and Eric quietly chuckle amongst themselves next to the fire. I'm happy they can at least enjoy the warmth from its flames. All I feel sitting over here is the pulsating coldness from the floor. My eyes flick to the boy, seeing him lost in thought, presumably about the same things I was.

"What do we think about them?" My voice hangs low so the two men don't hear. Carl blinks a few times before looking over to me.

"I actually like them." He reluctantly huffs out. "If everything they say is true—which so far, it has been—this could be everything." He says, a persuasive tone in his voice as if he's trying to convince me of their reliability.