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M E G A N
"Why on earth would we do that?" I quietly scold Carl.
"On the off-chance that things go south at the armory, we'd have our supplies safe somewhere." He says. "Or if we somehow get separated, we'd have a place in mind to meet up."
The boy's been trying to convince me to leave all of our food in the house that we've taken our brief residence in. Everything that comes out of his mouth unintentionally makes my nerves worse.
The both of us have this very muted disagreement while standing on the front porch of the creaky old house we've been staying in for the last few days. Although I'm finally back on my feet, I still will never have enough energy to deal with Carl's antics.
"What if someone else finds it?" I ask, pausing for a brief moment while I wait for his response. Carl can't respond fast enough before more questions start pouring out of my mouth.
"Why would things go south at the armory? Isn't it only like ten minutes away? We could make it back safe—"
"Megan." Carl groans and rolls his eyes. "It's a backup plan. If we do have to run from walkers, do you really want twenty pounds of stuff weighing you down?"
I stay silent while I avoid eye contact with him.
"Look Megan, right now you're already weak enough as it i—"
"Fine, Carl." I surrender. "Get to navigating." I mutter as I dig in my pocket for the map. I find the folded piece of paper and shove it in his direction.
I swing my mostly empty drawstring pack over my shoulder before holding my free arm against my chest and staring the boy down. The chilly morning weather makes my body feel like I'm still having cold-sweats.
The boy haphazardly takes the map from my hand and steps down the porch stairs. I quietly follow in his steps. He unfolds the map as he walks down the front yard and onto the street. Once he gets the map open, he flips it around and studies it for a minute before lifting his eyes back up.
He looks from left to right before nodding his head, causing his hat to gently shift upward along his forehead. "This way."
I take a few quick steps behind him in order to catch up. My body still feels a little weak and unsteady as I try to keep my focus on the pavement ahead of me. I notice Carl's boots come into view, and my eyes trace up the boy's body until they land on his face.
He waits until I catch up to him and walks alongside me, matching my slow speed. Our footsteps gently sound against the street, Carl's bulky boots sounding slightly louder from my side.
"Take it easy." He mutters to me.
I shoot the boy a quick glare as a response. In turn, he laughs under his breath. Carl's brief joy at my expense only slightly ticks me off. Another part of me is just shocked to see the boy in a non-negative mood.
We walk in silence as the boy stares at the map. I look over his shoulder at the layout of the prison and all of its surrounding facilities.
My thoughts briefly consume me as I realize that I haven't been outside of the contents of this map in over a year. Carl is holding a template of the place I was supposed to be in for a very long time.
The boy folds the map, sending a gentle crinkling sound throughout the empty street. I look straight ahead at the lengthy road ahead of us.
I feel the boy's body brush against my shoulder. Meeting his gaze, I see that he points his hand toward the forest and nods his head. I follow his lead off the road and into the trees.
"It should be just through here." He whispers.
Carl takes his knife out of his holster. Doing the same, I notice his paranoid eyes tracing behind every tree we pass. It is evident that he's been out here before and knows the consequences of being caught off guard.
My nerves jump as our feet now create louder crunching noises against twigs and dry leaves on the forest floor. As gently as we pace our steps, the noise is something we can't quite control.
Holding my knife in tightly in my hand, I use my arm to push past a few low-hanging branches.
"Megan." I hear Carl whisper from my left.
He motions toward a lone walker slowly stumbling through the forest. The clueless thing has no idea we're here. Carl is clearly more skilled with all this survival stuff than I am because I never would've even noticed it.
"Go put it down." Carl suggests. "I'll be back here in case anything goes wrong."
When trying to convince me to runaway with him, the boy did say that he would show me how to survive. I guess he wasn't messing around.
"Okay." I sigh. My heart slightly drops and my palms begin to sweat as I realize that it is the time I've come to dread. "You better watch my back."
Carl rolls his eyes and smirks at me. His expression is not a joyful one, instead it's mischievous. This is the familiar side of Carl that I know all too well. Some things really never change.
I turn around on my heels before slowly making my way toward the walker. Still having no clue I'm behind it, it trudges through the dry leaves and twigs, dragging along a gimpy leg.
I slowly creep up behind it, as to avoid it hearing my footsteps. A part of myself is just trying to stall so I can grasp at any reason to not have to kill this thing.
After nothing magically comes to my rescue, my weak arm manages to raise the knife right above my shoulder.
"Hey!" Carl shouts from behind me. "Over here!"
The walker stops dead in its tracks before quickly turning around at the sound of food. Its lazy footsteps speed up as its eyes land on me.
I take a few steps backward, keeping my eyes on the walker at all times. My heart pounds in my chest.
It lunges toward me and I quickly dodge it. The walker stumbles, barely catching itself as it almost falls straight to the ground.
I quickly run behind the walker and shove it the rest of the way down. It lies on the ground, struggling to get back on its feet. Before it can stand up, I place my foot on its back and plunge my knife into the back of its head.
I stab it once more just to be sure it's dead. Standing tall, I wipe a few scattered droplets of blood from my hand onto my pant leg. My grip on my knife handle hardly falters as I wipe the bloody blade on the walker's shirt.
My eyes rapidly blink, just as the adrenaline catches up with me and my anger begins to kick in.
Carl stands a few yards behind the scene that just happened. His arms remain folded and his boots are planted firmly in the leaves, shoulder-width apart. A satisfied, mischievous smirk stays on his face as he watches me step back from the body.
Once I realize what the prick just did, my legs carry myself toward him, with nothing but rage in my system.
"See?" Carl smugly asks. "You handled it all on your o—" His sentence get cut short as I roughly shove him by his shoulders.
"What the fuck, Carl?!" My voice breaks the volume barrier that the boy and I had been maintaining.
He stumbles backward, barely catching himself before he lands on the ground. His sly facade only falters for a second as it is replaced with a brief expression of worry. Carl quickly returns to his satisfied demeanor and his smile returns as he realizes how pissed off I am.
"You could've gotten me killed!"
"Oh, please!" He shouts back. "That would've been too easy for you to sneak up behind it. It's different when one of them is coming toward you."
"Pull some shit like that again, and I'm going back to the prison." I threaten the boy, poking my finger roughly into the center of his chest. He rolls his eyes and keeps the amused look on his face.
"I mean it, Carl."
☆
The grey, cinderblock building comes into view as Carl and I finally step out of the woods. An empty parking lot covered in dry, brown leaves is the only thing separating us from the armory.
As I look at the two large, metal doors on the side of the building, I realize that this place might be harder to break into than we initially thought.
Carl trudges ahead through the parking lot and makes his way to the door. I have no problem staying behind as it allows me to have a wider view of the whole building.
The boy looks around before getting close to the door and pounding on it three times with the side of his fist. My first instinct is to question him, but I don't even want to ask.
Carl leans closer to the door and presses his ear against it. He then waves me over. I subtly roll my eyes and sigh before walking to the middle of the parking lot.
"If there was a walker in there, it would've started banging on the door." He says as he goes to open the door. The knob suddenly stops about halfway around.
Carl jiggles the doorknob once more before muttering something under his breath and taking a step back.
"Do you have a key?" I pipe up, speaking at a normal volume, considering we're not in the forest anymore.
"If I had a key, don't you think I would've used it by now?" Carl asks me, not hesitating to send a sassy glare in my direction.
I mutter under my breath. "Smart-ass."
"What?"
"Nothing." I sigh. "I just need to find a key."
"Or we could just bust the door open." The boy suggests.
"It's an armory." I spit, my mood still being as sour as ever toward the boy. "It's a military-grade building that's meant to keep civilians out. I'm sure the front door's no exception."
"Well, then what do you suggest Megan?" Carl folds his arms and cocks his head to the side.
"I need a damn key." I slowly speak to the boy.
"Well, obviously we need keys to the door. How else are we going to get in?" The boy hastily speaks, unfolding his arms as he motions them with his words.
"No," I start, catching the boy off guard. "Any key will do. And I also need something heavy."
The boy gets a curiously hopeful look in his face as he realizes that I potentially have a solution to our problem. He walks toward me and points toward the road.
"I bet one of them has a key."
I turn around to see a few scattered bodies and a tow truck across the street from the parking lot we're standing in. Carl and I make brief eye contact before we both start walking across the street.
The boy walks up to one of the bodies and nudges it with his foot, making sure it's really put down. He then bends over and pats around the male walker's pockets, until we both hear a muffled jingle.
Carl slips his hand in the walker's back pocket and pulls out a ring of keys.
"Perfect." I sigh. "Get the smallest key you can find and take it off of the chain." I say to the boy and he nods before fumbling around with the keys.
I walk toward the tow truck, knowing it probably has something we can use. Standing on the tire, I hoist myself up and look through the passenger window of the tall cab. Nothing.
Closing my eyes and cursing under my breath, I walk back over to Carl.
"Is this one good?" He asks me and holds up a small, rusty key.
Feeling defeated, I look down to the ground, puzzled that I don't have something heavy to use with the key.
My eyes trace some dry, old blood splatters on the pavement as they continue to wander to the head of the walker that Carl got the keys from. A hammer lies implanted in the base of the dead walker's skull.
"Yea, that key is as good as any." I smirk to myself.
Stepping on the walker's neck to give myself leverage, I yank the hammer out of its decaying head. The bone being so aged allows it to release with ease.
I don't wait for Carl as I begin to walk back to the armory with the hammer in-hand. His footsteps sound out against the pavement soon after I begin walking.
"Key." I briefly turn around and stick out my hand to Carl. The boy smugly places the key in my hand.
Taking a few more steps, I'm finally at the door to the armory. I kneel to the ground and place the small, rusty key into the lock.
"Watch this." I say as I gently tap the hammer onto the key.
I hit the hammer harder onto the key once I realize nothing is happening. My ears perk up when I hear a few muffled clicks. I turn around to see Carl's reaction. He stands poised behind me with a knife in-hand and an amused look on his face.
With one more tap of the hammer, the mechanism in the lock breaks and I can safely remove the key. I take the doorknob and roughly wiggle it back and forth, hoping that I am able to move the door-stopper from the wall.
As I wiggle the doorknob, the door slightly opens and I realize my work here is done. However, I don't let the door open any wider because of the potential threat behind it.
I remove my knife from its holster and turn around to Carl for approval.
The boy offers me an impressed nod. "After you."
Mimicking his actions from back at the house, I ready my knife before swinging the door open. I step inside the building and search for walkers. Seeing nothing, I nod at Carl, giving him the sign that it's safe.
As I notice the lack of danger, I also notice the lack of weapons. All I see are filing cabinets, another door and a metal desk.
"Damn it." I mutter. The armory is probably through that door. "What is this room?" I ask Carl.
He removes the paper map from his pocket and unfolds it. "The map says that the armory and the corrections office are the same building."
I nervously gulp as my stomach drops. The corrections office contains files of all of the recent intake cases. Well—recent to the end of the world.
My body feels empty and my fingers start to sweat.
The sharp sound of a door opening cuts through my thoughts. I whip my head and see Carl standing at the open door.
"At least this one was unlocked." He says over his shoulder to me. He raises his gun before I see him slowly disappear down the staircase to the armory.
My curiosity gets the better of me as I go straight to the filing cabinets. I quickly pry the first drawer open with my knife and kneel to my knees as I begin running my fingers through each tab, trying to find my last name.
I realize that all of these files are of last names that are towards the end of the alphabet, meaning I'm searching the wrong drawer.
Closing the drawer, I briefly turn around to make sure I'm still in the clear from both Carl and the dead. Skipping the middle drawer, I go straight for the bottom drawer, being quick with my movements.
The drawer doesn't budge as I squeeze my knife over the top of it. I use more force to pry it open, causing my arm to shake for a brief moment before the drawer flies open.
I find the files with the last names that begin with the letter C and I quicken my movements until my eyes land on one file in the middle.
Carter, Megan F.
As soon as I see my last name, I quickly grab my file and remove it from the cabinet.
"Only found four handguns." I hear along with the slam of a door. I whip around and see Carl re-entering the room with his hands and holsters full of small handguns. "Looks like other people had the same idea as us."
"Here," The boy says as he reaches a hand gun out to me. I take the pistol from his hand and shove it in my holster, forgetting all about the folder in my other hand until I see Carl's eyes drift toward it.
The boy reaches for my file. "What's that?"
"Just a bunch of papers about the prison and police outposts." I say, pulling the file from his reach as the lie dances around on the tip of my tongue. "I thought some of it could be helpful if we stick around this area."
The boy seems to believe me as he immediately drops his hand and forgets about the folder. Sighing to myself, I quickly put it into my bag, hoping he'll soon forget about it.
"Let's go." The boy says with a sigh. I silently agree and begin to follow Carl out of the door. I begin my path across the parking lot as I realize that the boy is going in a different direction than me.
"Carl, the house is the other way." I speak up.
"I know." He says and continues to walk in the opposite direction of the house. "You go back, I have somewhere I need to go first."
☆
After making the decision to follow the stubborn boy, we walk through the woods for about twenty minutes before we come upon a neighborhood that appears to be a lot larger than the one we've been staying in.
The boy doesn't hesitate before picking up his pace and entering the neighborhood, without any regard for caution.
I see several cars parallel parked on the side of the street. Some of them are covered in blood, scattered with bullet holes or stained with bloody hand prints. Some of the houses are blackened on the outside, others are completely burned down.
It's obvious that this place went down a long time ago.
I quicken my steps to catch up to him. "Carl, it isn't safe here."
He doesn't acknowledge or even respond to me. I wait for him to say something while his curious eyes wander all over the damaged neighborhood that surrounds us. The boy has something weighing heavily on his mind, I can feel it.
"You can go back." Carl throws his words at me, clearly not in a good mood. "There's something I need to see."
"What, Carl?" I ask the boy, careful to keep my voice low. There's bound to be at least some walkers lurking in this fire damage.
The boy turns around. "Either go back to the house, or shut the hell up. There's something I need to do."
The determination in his voice worries me as I know he's making his decisions based on emotion.
"Asshole." I mutter to myself.
I comply with his rash demand and walk forward to meet him, knowing that he would be in twice the amount of danger if someone isn't here to watch his back. On the other side of the same problem, so would I.
I keep my hand firm on the gun in my holster, while my other squeezes onto the handle of my knife.
Carl walks deeper into the run-down neighborhood and I hesitantly follow. I keep my eyes moving as well as my feet.
A small scraping sound against the concrete catches my attention as the boy continues to walk forward. To my side, a walker limps along the concrete from behind us.
I roll my eyes at Carl's ignorance and make my way towards it.
The female walker is wearing the singed remains of whatever clothing she had on. Her flesh is blackened and shriveled up. The fragments of hair that dangle from her patchy scalp are also stringy and fried.
I shake my head at whatever thought of what this poor girl went through, before raising my knife.
A grunt sounds from right next to me as I'm knocked out of the way. I land on my knee, my pants scraping against the pavement. I look up, to make sure the walker hasn't gained too much on me.
I see no one other than Carl shove his knife up into the walker's neck, right behind her chin. Her jaw stops moving and her eyes stop wandering as she's put down. He roughly pulls his knife out of her head and lets her drop to the ground.
Carl flicks the blood off of his knife and begins walking in the original direction he was headed. I huff and push myself off of the pavement.
This boy is asking for it.
I turn around to see that he's made it pretty far with his determined footsteps. He would never know or care if I turned around and went back to the house.
I shake my head and jog closer to the boy. He still remains about ten feet in front of me, walking at a fast pace. His sense of direction around this neighborhood makes it obvious he's been here before.
He turns the corner, leaving me behind him, so I cut through an abandoned front lawn to catch up with him. Carl then sees something that catches his attention, sending him running down the street.
"Carl, hold on!" I say to the boy.
He has no regard for leaving me behind as his feet carry him toward the most damaged of the houses. I run behind him, trying not to let him out of my sight.
After passing a few destroyed houses, he turns another corner and starts to run even faster. The boy comes to a sudden halt and I almost run into him. My feet stop almost as suddenly as his do.
Carl's eyes stare at the sight before us. He looks at the end of the street at a house, or whatever is left of the house. What remains of it is the burnt wooden floor and a few wall supports at some corners of the house's former structure. Ashes cover what used to be the front porch.
What's left of the front door lies on the ground, the doorknob being the only thing salvageable. Shattered glass from the windows is scattered all over the burnt, blackened grass surrounding the house.
I look back over at Carl. The uneasy, cold look on this boy's face proves that he had some sort of emotional attachment to this house.
"Did you live here?" I breathe out, forgetting whatever frustration this kid has put me through today.
His cold glare doesn't dare to move from the remnants of the house. I don't bother waiting for an answer because I know he isn't going to give me one.
A few low-pitched groans echo across the empty street, behind us. Turning around, I notice walkers coming from every angle. One crawls out from behind a car, another stands up from the ashes of a burned down house and a few others simply walk towards us from across the street.
"Carl, we need to go." I say, grabbing his arm and looking around, starting to try to run. I've never taken on this many walkers by myself, and I won't start today.
The boy doesn't budge.
"It isn't safe!" I scream to him. There's no point in being quiet now.
The boy shakes his head and briefly squeezes his eyes shut before allowing me to pull him. His footsteps start to hesitantly follow mine and I let go of his arm.
We both begin to run in the same direction we came from. The slow walkers form a small crowd as they gather in the middle of the street behind us.
"This way." Carl says before grabbing my arm and directing us into the woods.
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4115 words
A/N
this is like the first chapter that I genuinely enjoy?? i love it so much!
It also has Megan's first real walker kill :O
I'm also in love with the next chapter so stay tuned xoxo
☆leave a vote if u bad :p ☆