Crestfallen ↬ Carl Grimes (old version)

E N D I N G S

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX ; ENDINGS

"The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor."

 "I don't know if you can tell, but that ain't no kid you're lookin' at. I don't think no kid knows the way around a gun or a knife like she can, and I'd rather have her saving my back than any other sissy around here."

➳ 

"I used to have a German Shephard when I was a kid. She died when I graduated from elementary school."

I smiled down at the photo with fondness as I situated myself into a more comfortable position on the plush comfort of the RV's couch, dirty fingernails plucking against the dog-eared corners of the photo that I had found after doing a brief run-through of what the small bedroom had contained. On the opposite side of the dinette, Daryl frowned at me quizzically. His large hands paused in the middle of taking apart one of his guns as I slid the photo across the table with a soft smile. "I named her Rose, after the Cherokee Rose that my mother loved so much. She had more white on her than the dog in the picture, though."

My voice was a hushed whisper against the darkness of the night air that we drove through, nearly silent if not heard by the careful hunter's ear that I know Daryl was using now just to decipher my words. I could feel the heat of his gaze on my shadowed face, as if I had said something that triggered a memory or reaction within his brain, but, knowing the man, I smartly chose to ignore the reaction altogether and to instead glance out and into the darkness that was the forest we drove beside. Seconds felt like hours while you were on the road for as long as we have been, but to me, it mattered less if it meant that we were on the road to home. Though, it seemed as if I were one of the only ones that seemed to want to have that kind of thinking, no matter how much of a bland hope it may be.

Even Carl, who now resided in the back room with Judith, both of whom I was almost one hundred percent sure were now snoozing in a deep sleep, didn't seem to want to agree with me that this stranger might just be exactly what we needed.

"S'pretty." The man in front of me huffed, successfully gaining my attention once more as he taps the picture twice before sliding it back over to my pile of possessions. Warily, he eyed my gun that I had placed on the table upon entering the mobile home. "Want me to clean that for you when I'm done with mine?" I shrugged, nudging the weapon over to him before turning my gaze back to the window. For Daryl, it seemed, that was the nicest gesture I was ever going to receive from him for now.

It was only Abraham, Daryl and I that seemed to be awake in the darkness of the night that we traveled in, and even though I silently prayed for this tiny adventure of ours to run as smoothly as it needed to in order to convince Rick that this haven might be something good, it was hard not to let my fears get the better of me. Glenn, Rick, Michonne and Aaron had all decided to ride in a separate car in front of the motorhome as if it would do us any use to split up the group even more in fear of any kind of attack. But it didn't seem like it was the separation that sent such an itch in my spine; enough so that it made just sitting down in the midst of the semi-comfortable silence that the motor home created. There simply seemed to be something that frustratingly decided to continue gnawing at my stomach - the expectation of something bigger that was yet to come. And even though I certainly didn't want to trust in the naivety of certain beliefs, it was almost just as hard to not be one hundred percent pessimistic. 

"You never thought you'd be back in Virginia again, did you?"

Daryl almost seemed to be forcing the conversation, as if something inside of him were fighting an internal battle that he didn't want to hint towards as his blue eyes remained on the obviously cleaned gun in his hands that he continued to dismantle and reassemble with ease in order to at least have something to do with his hands. An anxiety tick, of sorts. It would've made me laugh if it weren't for the fact that he was exactly right, along with the fact that the question itself seemed to gain the unwanted attention from the female, Tara I believe, who had once been asleep but now seemed to be listening intently into our conversation. But it certainly didn't stop his statement from being true. I had left Virginia with my father at my side in hopes of never returning, and now here I was doing exactly what I had promised him that I wouldn't. Even in his death, I seemed to enjoy disappointing him.