Hard Candy [Carl Grimes/The Walking Dead]

Peppers & Video Games

Well, that went well, I reflect as I slice up some onions for my sauce. What a lucky break. For all of us I suppose! They have a new base, and now I don't have to face those things alone. I gaze out the window over the sink. Our car is still in the driveway. Dad would have been at work by now. I shake my head. No more tears. I have to show them how strong I am.

I toss the onions in the pot with the garlic and butter, stirring them all together. Mom taught me how to make a simple spaghetti when I was eleven. I double the recipe though, since I have nearly three times as many mouths to feed.

Oh mom, I think, the tears welling up again. I miss you.

I hear steps behind me. Hastily wiping my eyes with my apron, I turn around, and who should be standing in the doorway but that boy.

I hesitate, but only for a split second before putting on a friendly smile and beckoning him in. He takes a seat in the stool beside the sink and watches me dump a can of tomato purée in the pot. He's quiet for a minute, and then says, "Smells good." His voice is low but boyish at the same time. He has such a sweet smile.

"Thanks. My mom, she taught me."

"Cool," He acknowledges with a nod. We're both silent for a minute before he speaks again. "I lost my mother too."

I look at him, waiting for more.

His gaze becomes far off. "She died during my sister's C-section. She... she came back as one of the walkers. I had to... I had to kill her again."

That must be who the baby belongs to, I realize. Not that blonde teenager's.

I look at the boy, who's looking down. That's awful. I can't imagine if I had to shoot my own reanimated mother. "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head and laughs, a low chuckle to himself.

"Not as much as I am."

We resume silence. Finally he looks at me again. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Same."

"Cool."

Silence. Then: "Need some help?"

"Uh, sure. Chop these peppers." I hand him three red bell peppers, and our hands collide for a second, like in cheesy teen movies. I quickly pull back, my cheeks warm.

He examines the small, neon-handled knife next to cutting board. He chuckles. "Flimsy."

I eye the knife. Is it defective or something? Can he actually tell just by looking at it? Well, I guess I wouldn't be surprised. "What do you mean?"

He laughs. "I just mean it's a little less than I've been handling in the past while."

I relax and laugh too. Then a serious thought crosses my mind. "How long has this been going on?"

He thinks. "A couple years."

I gape. "Are you putting me on? Because that's not really funny."

He remains serious. "No. It's been like this for years. I have no idea why it hasn't reached this area yet. Maybe because of all the electric and barbed fences surrounding this community. I guess they managed to get themselves through though."

"Who's 'they'?"

He finishes cutting the second pepper and hands the pieces to me, which I toss in the pot and stir. "The walkers, you know, 'zombies' as you might call them. A few dozen or so must have made it in here, and infected the rest, and now everyone's infected. Except you, of course," He explains. "You're lucky!"

"But infected with what, exactly?"

"We don't exactly know. It's like leprosy and rabies meet cannibalism."

I'm still puzzled. "If this has been going on for so long, how have you managed to find food, tools, shelter? How far have you traveled? How do you travel? Has this always been your group?" I have so many questions, all of which he manages to answer quickly, except the last one, which he pauses before, and I know I've hit a touchy subject. I regret asking it.

He takes off his hat, running a hand through his dark hair. His eyes reflect the sun streaming through the window. He leans against the sink and tilts his head back, closing his eyes, and exhales softly. He remains in that position while, as if he's zoned out, and all I can do is watch, entranced if you will.

Finally he stands up again, replacing his hat. "We've lost a lot, Gained a lot too. My best friend, Sophia. Andrea. Hershel." His voice cracks a bit. "Shane. Dale. Mom." I see his eyes glisten, and immediately change the subject.

"Do you play video games?"

I've grabbed his attention. "Not in a while," He admits. "But I used to. I love them."

I grin. "Cool. Maybe after lunch we can hang out in the playroom for a while."

He nods. "Great. I haven't even seen anyone near my age in so long."

"What about the blond girl? With the big eyes."

He shakes his head. "Beth? Nah. I-I used to have crush on her," He admits with a small smile. I resist the urge to giggle. "Besides, she has the hots for Daryl."

I chuckle. "Oh well. Glad I can make your acquaintance..."

"Carl." He offers me his hand. "Carl Grimes."

I take his hand and we shake. "Yara Mae Carr. Just Yara's fine though."

"Nice to meet you, Just Yara!"

I laugh. I really like him.

The gray-haired woman pops her head in the doorway. "How's it coming along?"

"Good," I call. Carl gives her a thumbs-up.

"Good. I'm Carol, by the way," She says with a smile.

"Yara."

"Nice to meet you. You have no idea how grateful we are..."

I shake my head. "Don't mention it. You've helped me far more than I've helped you. I can never thank you all enough. You guys saves my life how many times? From now on this is our house. All of us."

She's smiling very big now. "Thank you." She retreats back into the living room.

I start boiling the spaghetti noodles, feeling Carl's eyes on me. "So what games to you play?"

"Well, I don't play a lot, I don't really have anyone to play with. But my dad, he was a big fan of those first-person shooter games. He has a couple Halos, I think, and one of the Call of Duties. Oh, and Plants vs Zombies," I add with a grin. "I'm best at that."

Carl smirks. "I could kick your ass at all of those."

"Is that a challenge I hear?"

"Indeed it is."

"You are on, Carl Grimes."

We shake again.