Don't Let Me Go ~ A Carl Grimes Fanfiction

Chapter Twenty

I'm not sure how long I sit there for but I see Daryl get up and walk over to the barn door. I don't think much of it. I sit and I stare into the flames that flicker in the corner of the barn. Before long I hear the barn door slamming and open in and slamming again. I see Daryl and Maggie struggling to keep it closed. 'Walkers," I see one of them mouth and I get up as Sasha rushes to help. I move to the door as quickly as I can but the weight of my body is hard to ignore. The rest of the group see us and come to our aid.

The wind and rain spray in our faces through the cracks in the door and the weight of the walkers is almost over-powering, but not quite. We keep pushing and I can't help but wonder how many there are to be causing such a force. We keep fighting together but I see my vision go black at the edges. "Kaitlyn! Sit down!" I hear but I can't tell who says it. I ignore it and keep leaning all of my weight on the door. In this world, you can't let an illness keep you down. You have to survive, and some of us don't know how to give up. I won't let this world be the end of me.

******

I wake up with my head on Carl's chest and Sammy has her head on my stomach. Without moving, I see Daryl sitting at the back of the barn and he clearly hasn't slept. Then, as quietly as she can, I see Maggie rise to her feet, clearly trying not to wake anyone. She walks over to Daryl, and the look on their faces is enough for me to tell that they're still in pain after Beth. I look at Sammy and count myself lucky that she's still alive. I hear Daryl and Maggie start a conversation just as a wave of nausea hits. I breathe deeply, trying to hold it in. By the cheerful chirps of the birds outside, I can tell that dawn is breaking.

Lately, the nausea has been worse than before but my headache from last night has gone away, which I suppose is a good sign. I see Maggie stand and approach Sasha, who has barely slept since Tyreese died. I watch as they stand, pick up their weapons and leave the barn. I assume that it's relatively safe outside and the nauseous feeling is building up and getting worse. I edge Sammy's head off of my slightly concave stomach and I slowly rise to my feet, feeling Daryl's eyes on me. I pick up my largest knife and tiptoe out of the barn. No wonder I feel ill; the place smells like shit.

I shield my eyes from the overly cheerful sun, and once my eyes adjust, I'm astonished at the sights I squint at. There are fallen trees everywhere, the nearest mere metres from the barn. There are walkers impaled on branches and strung up by their own innards, as if God himself was sending a warning to the dead. The storm should have torn through the barn like it was nothing; it should have chewed us up and spit us out, yet we're still here.

Before I have any more time to take in what I see, I bend over and bile rises into my throat. I can't help but wish that I'd eaten, but the scarceness of food was troubling. Once it seems like here is nothing left to come, I collapse to my knees and my stomach growls in agony and hunger. I wipe my burning mouth and rise to my feet. When I enter the barn, the group are all awake and I know that it was me who woke them up. Most of them are looking at me and I feel oddly embarrassed, as if I were naked or something. I try to ignore them and walk to Carl. "How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Um, better," I shrug.

"Really?" he asks. "Didn't sound like it."

"Yeah? Well, the headache's gone and I don't feel faint anymore so, yeah. I am a lot better." I shrug again. Carl gives me a faint smile which makes the hollows under his cheeks all the more clear. "Carl, when was the last time you ate?" I ask. He thinks it over.

"Um, three- four days ago. I'm fine though. Really," he says as persuasively as possible. We have no food left at all and we are all in desperate need of at least a little food, especially Judith, who cries all the time.

"Come on," I say, dragging Carl to where the adults are standing, talking in hushed voices. "We have to find food," I whisper to Carl as we approach Rick. "Rick," I say. "Carl and I are going to look for berries and nuts and stuff. We won't go far, two hundred yards at best. I don't have it in me for much more." Rick starts to protest."Rick, look around. We're already weak. That's going to get a lot worse if we don't eat." Rick nods, giving us his permission to go. Carl passes Judith to his dad and we grab out packs.

As we venture out into the trees, I see the shock register on Carl's face. I entwine my fingers with Carl's and rest one hand on the knife in my belt. I notice a specific type of plant that I've seen before. "Hey, Carl. This is the herb that Hershel gave us when everyone got sick back at the prison."

"Oh, yeah," he says, as I bend down to put some in my bag. "I was out to pick them with Hershel."

"Really? You never said," I say. Carl shrugs.

"It didn't seem that important. You and Sammy were fighting for your lives, and Hershel said they'd help make you better."

"Oh," I say. "Well they might come in handy. Hershel told me that they would have a soothing effect if you put them on an insect bite or sting, or a cut or burn. We've been getting lots of those lately," I say, my finger tracing the wasp sting on my wrist. Carl just nods.

"Hey, look," he says, pointing to a small patch of strawberries growing under a thick brush of leaves. He starts pulling them off quickly and dropping them into his bag. I finish gathering the medicinal plant and join him, stripping the bush of the luscious red fruit. I see a bush with pecans growing on it, so we move to that next and then we head back. For the first time in weeks, I feel like we're going to be okay.