The Ruined Path -- Remake (Carl Grimes Gay Fanfiction)

1: Eventually...

-ACT ONE-

It all began in July 2010. The 23rd if I remember precisely. The day the dead rose up from the wherever they were buried or hidden with an inhuman and uncontrollable desire to feed.

The first few hours consisted of nothing more than news headlines; reports of entire villages and campsites being torn apart. For the first few hours, it all seemed so far away; it was happening to someone else in some distant part of the continent, and I - in my home of New York City - felt perfectly safe.

Everyone in the so-called 'big city' felt safe. They all said "this is America! We have the finest military in the world! What could possibly go wrong?"

We had no idea.

But we found out soon enough. When 500,000 innocent people were killed in a single day.

Before then, humanity had always been based upon the survival of the fittest; we were the predator and the rest of the world was our prey. But on that ill-fated day... we were replaced.

'We' is only a general term, however. Not everyone died that day.

Some of us escaped. Some of us survived. And some of us fought, against insurmountable odds.

Whilst most sat cowering in their rooms, overdosing on pills or putting a gun to their heads, others managed to salvage the power - the will - to live.

I am one such person.

My name is Riley Palmer, and this is the story of how I found that will to live...

-----

December, 2012

I stared spitefully into the distance. My breath dissipated as a small cloud in front of my face with the harsh chill of the winter's breath nipping at my skin.

A thick coating of fog had settled in, floating eerily only a few feet ahead of me and giving the surrounding trees a menacing and ominous tone, with their sharp branches protruding from the vast curtain of grey like knives sticking out the darkness.

It all had a surreal, almost dream-like quality to it. Being trapped in a hostile, alien environment like this - forgotten, scared, alone, abandoned...

But, unfortunately, I was awake.

It was times like this when I wished that I wasn't.

No. 'Wish' isn't a strong enough word... I yearned that I wasn't.

I yearned that I wasn't awake, but I didn't yearn for sleep either.

I yearned for something permanent - something eternal. Something that would finally grant me peace from this tormented life.

There's only one thing that fits that criteria, Riley.

Death.

I have the gun. I have the bullets. I have everything I need to do it.

But I don't...

Why?

I hung my head in shame, asking myself this question as though there could actually be a simple answer. I often asked myself the question, and each day I would reach the conclusion that some things just... can't be explained.

The closest I've come to understanding my own weird, confusing mentality, is realizing that somewhere, buried in the back of my mind, is the hope that maybe - just maybe - things might, eventually, get better.

'Eventually...'

But there was no telling how long 'eventually' was, and it certainly wasn't any time soon; years away, at the least.

Hell, I could die before tomorrow, let alone a few years' time.

How would things get better anyway? About 99% of the planet's dead - there's no chance of any last minute miracle. There's hardly any population left to cure...

I paused my thoughts for a moment, laughing cynically at how pessimistic I had become over the course of the past few years.

I couldn't blame myself though. How could anyone recover from the deaths of their parents? Not to mention in such a brutal manner.

But at any rate, I was alive.

I was alive, when so many people weren't. There had to be a reason for that.

There has to be...

But what it was, I had no idea.

I breathed in deep once more, inhaling another sharp breath of harsh air.

I sighed, again, before concluding that asking myself these answer-less questions wasn't really getting me anywhere.

I turned around, and jolted in shock at the sight of a figure stood a few feet away. I raised my weapon at the form - a ghostly silhouette shrouded in mist and fog.

Whoever this figure was, they didn't speak, but they lacked the monotonous groans of the undead too. To begin with, I thought I must have been hallucinating, but as this figure emerged from the thick grey cloud that consumed him I realized I wasn't.

Stood, raising a large pistol between my eyes, was a boy...