THE LOVELY BONES, daryl dixon

i. and then there were none

  "Carl," Rick called out—a strained, choked groan.

  The teenager merely ignored his father, soldiering on through the darkness within him. While fleeing his demons, Carl had been fleeing his family. River sighed, peering over her shoulder of torn fabric, and shook her head in Ellie's direction. All Ellie could do was shrug her defeated shoulders.

  "Carl," Rick called out once again, a more authoritative guttural force.

  Alas, the teenager would not budge.

  "Carl Grimes!" Ellie boomed, unaware of the volume of her own voice, though it croaked and wheezed, having been stolen by the fingers of the Governor. The boy came to a stop. His droopy hair cascaded down his face like a curtain, concealing but one eye welled with tears. "Stop walking! You wait for us."

  Carl's body remained frozen in its stance—hunched shoulders turned briefly to glare over his shoulder. It had only been in that moment he had realised the reality of their lives. The moment Ellie's struggled voice could be heard, as though she had been plagued with a cold, Carl knew that life had gone awry. His hair remained swooped over his glossy eyes, unsure of how to respond to Ellie's motherly authority. Rick was simply dead to him.

  Taking advantage of his paused son, Rick rested a bleeding hand against Carl's shoulder; his strained voice pushing out, "It's gonna be—"

  Rick's speech halted the very second Carl's head had raised; a sickly tinge of complete withering of the soul to be seen inside his vacant eyes. Carl had lost the purpose of meaning. Who could have expected him not to? The pristine, almost plasticine, fairytale phantasm of life they had built from the ground, only to watch its embers burning in the wind. Words could do nothing for Carl when the sound of his own heartbeat hadn't been a comfort anymore.

  Chomping down hard on her dried lips of caked blood and dehydration, Ellie shifted Rick's weight over to River, merely ignoring the unmerciful silence enveloping them. Instead, she opted for redemption. Ellie had simply become the redeemer; saving their family from the grasp of delirium.

  Stuffing her hands inside her satchel, Ellie swiftly delved through to retrieve binoculars; knowing there had been a cul-de-sac in its derelict, desolate decaying foundation. Buildings, though not known how safe they had been, suddenly flooded Ellie's view, prompting a swift hand to peer closer. A house. A chance. It had been waiting for clearance.

  The blonde steadily guided Rick's broken body to the nearest building in her field of view—rather, an empty, fruitless wasteland than a field of view. The building was haunted by the screams of abandonment and isolation, almost afraid to be touched by human hands once again. But that hadn't stopped Ellie. She paused ahead of the front door, lowering Rick back to his own feet to proceed with the initial sweep of the building. But there had been others awaiting the same role.

  Ellie's hand had been prepared—raised and brandishing a crimson pistol; its original colour hadn't been the rubies seen by tired eyes, but rather it had been a stain of death. A sudden clasp by sharp fingers pricked into Ellie's wrist like needles. Needles that had been Rick's fingers. His fingers clasped around Ellie's wrist to halt her; a glance of irritation speeding in her direction. Though, neither male in her presence left much for the imagination when it came to bravado, as all Carl could do was broadcast a wry huff at his father in scorn.