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Even though I manage to sleep through the night, I'm exhausted when I wake up. My back is also a little sore, and muscles tight from our walk yesterday, but I stretch everything out and am immediately back to normal.
Rick prepares us a meal, pulling whatever cans we have left from his bag and begins to get them over the flame of the fire that managed to survive through the night. The peaceful moment lasts very shortly, however, because while we're eating our breakfast of canned corn and spinach, three walkers come meandering into our campsite.
"I've got it," Michonne mutters quietly, still waking herself up as she sets down her can of corn, grabs her katana, and goes off to take care of them. In a few lethal slashes, the trio is on the ground, probably beginning a pool of blood in the crunchy leaves below. I decide not to think about that right now because it will take away my appetite from my meal, which I already can't really call appetizing at the moment.
After breakfast, I down a bottle of water. Rick speaks about checking the traps. I want to lie back down and take a nap before we continue our trek to Terminus, but he asks the whole group to join him. He's still talking about how Carl and I need to learn these skills ourselves. Even though I know he's right, my body aches for just a little bit more rest. I resist the urge, knowing it will make me look weaker than I am, and follow everyone through the brush Rick waded through yesterday.
The traps he set up are about a hundred yards from our site. It's a straight shot from where we had been sleeping, and once more, the woods are clear, not a singular sound filling them. I realize how much I don't like the quiet. It's so much creepier than a symphony of walkers shouting and shrieking as they stalk their next meal. Even the sounds of morning songbirds are absent and leave an emptiness in the barren forest.
The first three traps we check have a rabbit hanging by the wire, it's neck wrapped tightly in the silvery noose. I have a hard time stopping myself from licking my lips at the thought of fresh meat. I'm so hungry, and the thought of such a meal seem intangible. We would only get it every so often at the prison. It was practically a delicacy since being able to harvest enough for everyone to eat was difficult without depleting our nearby resources. Now, I can taste the greasy rabbit that we will be enjoying for dinner just from the thought of it.
As Rick takes the rabbits from the traps and stows them into a burlap sack, he explains the use of them to Carl and I. Carl asks questions, completely engrossed in the situation. I would be, too, if my head didn't feel so foggy.
Rick takes down the last two traps that were left untouched by anything. I wish they had also been holding a rabbit when we found them, but the three that we had been lucky enough to get are more than I could've asked for. At the same time that Rick is finishing the tedious process of untying the knot hooking the wire trap to the tree, the first scream rings out as clear as day.
The scream belongings to a person, I'm sure. From the uniqueness of the strained vocals crying out, it's not hard to tell as much.
Instinct takes over without asking my permission. Before I know it, I'm taking off through the woods, trying my best to stick to a deer trail that weaves through a few bushes and between a cluster of trees. Leaves that manage to still stick to their branches latch onto my clothes as I pass them by, managing to slightly slow me down as if I'm not going slowly enough already. Even as I'm moving along, I know it feels like a stupid idea, but I can't control my own motions. Even over the cries belonging to the stranger that I have yet to find, I can still hear Michonne and Rick shouting for me as I run. I don't stop or pause to listen to them as I go. At the same time, I realize Carl is at my side, jogging along beside me. They're shouting for him, too.
He's running, as well, acting just as determined as I am. The only difference between me and him is that he can actually run. My run is more of a labored power walk that doesn't get me very far as quickly as I'd like. He passes me easily and follows the same trail that I had been on when Michonne tightly grabs onto my arm, finally catching up to me and holding me back. I think better than fighting back and trying to get free because I know it will be no use. Instead, I stay in place while Michonne keeps her arms around my torso and watch as Rick passes us, chasing after Carl before he can emerge through a thicket of briars. He catches him just as Carl is raising his gun.
"No!" Rick hisses to both of us as we're drug off to the side of the trail and forced to crouch down instead of standing straight up. It's hard to stay put and quiet down like the two adults are instructing us to as the screaming continues. I want to make it end, one way or another. It feels like the only humane thing that we can do in this world.
Two gun shots ring out sharply above the growling of the walkers. I don't want to see anything that's going on just ahead of us, but my curiosity gets the best of me, as it usually does. I break Michonne's grip on my body just enough to peek over the briars and shrubs in front of us so I can look into the grassy clearing in time to see a blonde man getting his face ripped apart by walkers. His skin peels off in long, stringy pieces, as if it were melted bubble gum or taffy. I want to look away, but I can't. My eyes linger on what's in front of me as a churning enters my stomach.
It's one of the most disgusting things I've ever witnessed in my life, but I sadly know that it won't be the last.
"We need to help him!" Carl cries, urging Rick to let him move on. He moves to raise his gun again, but Rick forcefully shoves it down with his hand.
"We can't. It's too late." Michonne doesn't loosen her grip on me anymore than she already has as the man makes eye contact with us, probably seeing our eight, bright eyes silently watching while staying in hiding. He screams for help, but even I can now confirm that he's too far gone.
Almost as if on cue, several more walkers funnel into the clearly from the woods, each one pouncing on the growing pile of death as the screams are silenced and replaced by the sound of muscle being torn from bone. I know the man is gone now, and perhaps would've been, even if we had been able to do something.
I rip Michonne's arms off me once the situation has finally ended and the only sound left is the noise of munching walkers. Maybe I'm a little harsh, but I'm not sure how else I should act. Dejected, I turn around and head in the direction of camp. Maybe, if we were a second quicker, we could've saved him. At least, that's what I want to think. It could've ended the same way even if we had, or even worse, and someone else could've been killed, too. I guess things don't always work out the way you want them.
And they definitely don't work out in this cruel world.
Rick talks to Carl all the way back to camp about the man. He's a dead man, now. I feel like if I would've seen that scene at the beginning of the end, it would've shocked me much more than it did today. Of course, it was an unpleasant sight that I won't be trying to think about again any time soon, but it's also nothing surprising. I know that horrible things like that happen in this world now. The younger me would've never been able to believe it.
Rick apologizes for stopping him from trying to help, but eventually gets Carl to understand why he couldn't let him run into that mess. Well, at least Carl says he understands, but I can't tell if he's lying or not. I'm sure he is, knowing how stubborn he can be, but it's better than getting no response out of him, something that has happened many times before.
"We should start for Terminus. We only have a day's walk left," Rick says as we reach our campsite. I don't object. In fact, I want to be there right this second. If walking the dusty tracks with a horrible limp means getting to safety, then I'm willing to accept that. Plus, I don't think I can last through another day of anticipation.
There isn't much time for debate before it's been unanimously decided that we keep moving right now. There's no point in wasting anymore time at the campsite by burning daylight that we can use now. It'd be better if we kept going now so we could stop for a rest tonight to set up camp again and rest for the evening before walking the last bit the morning afterwards. I start checking my pack to make sure that I have everything I need before slinging it over my shoulders and heading up the small bank towards the tracks.
It's yet another day full of sunshine. It's been like this a lot lately, which is a complete contrast to how our lives have been. Today, however, I have a hard time looking at the sun like I had been during our trek yesterday. Every time I do, I keep being reminded of how big the man's eyes were as he was ambushed from all angles, falling into the jaws of the most grotesque monsters.
I wonder about what his life was like. Did he have a family? Were they alive? I guess we'll never know. His story ended and the book was practically burned.
About ten minutes into our walk, I'm already bored, which doesn't come as much of a shock to me. I want to think of something to do to take up the time, so I walk over to the opposite side of the tracks from where Carl is and balance myself on the metal beam. I laugh to myself as I try to walk across the slim surface as quickly as possible without slipping off the edge, my arms held at my sides to keep myself upright. It feels like a childish game, but also something that keeps me much more amused than I had been. It's the little things that keep us entertained these days, like when the older kids and I would play ball games in the prison yard or draw with chalk Carol made for us using dried eggshells and flour.
I watch from the corner of my eye as Carl mounts the metal beam on the left side of the tracks. I stop for a second to watch him as he sends me a playful look before forcing himself to have a serious expression. To balance himself, he stretches his arms out, just as I had.
"I bet I can balance longer than you," I say with a smirk on my face, eyebrows raised in anticipation for him to accept my offer at a challenge. Carl looks to me, his eyes shaded from the brim of his hat.
"You sure about that?" I nod confidently, my smile growing. With the way he's walking, which is very, very slowly, he has no chance in beating me. I find that pathetic, considering I'm not doing very well at moving quickly when the element of my injured leg has been thrown into the equation. Even so, I think the little contest could help us receive the lighthearted fun we all need.
"I'm so sure that I bet the chocolate bar I have in my bag," I say. I stop, crossing my arms across my chest in a joking stare-off against the boy on the other side of the train tracks.
"You have a chocolate bar?" Carl asks, mouth hung open in surprise. I nod.
"I do." I found it while we were scavenging yesterday and had forgotten about it until now, if I'm being honest, but I'm more than willing to wager it for a bet, especially since I'm pretty confident that I have a chance of winning this one. "But, what if I win? What's in it for me?"
Carl stops and takes his bag off his shoulder, unzipping it so he can start shuffling through the contents until he lands on a pack of strawberry licorice. "This."
I love those!
"Sounds like a deal," I grin. I lift my chin high before turning to Michonne and Rick, who are just now catching up with us because of the fact they had been several strides behind us just a minute ago. "You two will be the judges. The first one to fall off loses. The winner gets the loser's candy." The rules are simple, as is the entire game, but I suppose that that's what most of the fun is about.
"Sounds like an awfully serious competition," Rick laughs, his smile growing as the corners of his mouth crease.
"That's because it is," I state in a jokingly serious tone. "Tell us when to start."
"Alright," Michonne laughs. She counts down before telling us to go. As soon at the words leave her mouth, I take off and do my best to balance on the metal beam without slipping, something that is slightly more difficult when I'm trying to go quickly. My boots cling to the beam nicely and keep me upright. At the rate I'm going, I'm positive I will win. I even sneak a look at Carl, who's starting to shake slightly. Nevertheless, he's managing to stay on a rather steady course, which is impressive since I hadn't expected as much from him. I look back to my own path, deciding that if I'm going to win this, I need to focus on myself instead.
Michonne and Rick commentate the situation, as if it were an intense sporting event, and will start laughing when one of us stumbles and nearly loses our balance. Growing overly confident, I close my eyes to show I don't need to see to win. I let out a laugh, not skipping a beat, walking along just as well as I had been before.
The downfall of closing my eyes comes shortly after. It's not because I trip. In fact, I don't fall off the beam, but am rather shoved off. When I hadn't been able to see, Carl had retrieved a large branch from beside the tracks and used it to sabotage me. In a swift motion, he swipes the branch across the tracks and whacks me with it in the back. This causes me to open my eyes immediately as I slip off the beam and onto the layer of rocks beneath. Luckily, I manage to land on my feet. The whole thing sends a zap of pain up my leg, but nothing more. It just causes me to glare harder as Carl laughs in triumph, stepping off the beam himself. The stupid smile covering his face makes it so difficult for me to be mad at him.
"Cheater!" I complain even though I'm only halfway serious. Carl shrugs his shoulders as Rick and Michonne catch up to us, each of them still laughing about the game.
"I didn't cheat. I was just . . . using my resources. Plus, I didn't really hear 'no tree branches' being specified in the rules." Carl holds out his hand for the pay up. I know that I have no choice but to give him his reward, so I remove the chocolate bar from my backpack and set it in his palm, giving him what I promised. I'm not only sad to see the candy leave me, but am also upset to not get the licorice I had wanted so badly.
As soon as he's given the chocolate, Carl opens the bar, pulling away the plastic wrapper, and breaks away half of it. He sets it in my empty hand, smiling. I give him a surprised look, questioning what he's giving me the candy for. "As an honorable mention for your participation," he says with a smirk.
"Oh, shut up!" I scoff, slapping him playfully on the arm. Rick and Michonne laugh, too, and we all continue forward as I take a bite, the milky sweet melting in my mouth the second it hits my tongue. The road ahead seems long, but not so bad from this perspective. It seems reachable, something that I wasn't sure I'd ever feel after the prison.
As I break off another chunk of chocolate, my mind goes to Daryl. Is he still alive? I wish so deeply that I could turn around and hand him a piece of my winnings because these were his favorite. I remember him raving about how good they were around the dinner table back at the prison. I almost feel guilty eating it right now by myself, but I decide he'd want me to. Anyways, the existence of the candy gave me a memory of him I wouldn't have been able to experience otherwise. It's those kinds of happy thoughts that help me take another step towards Terminus because of the fact that it will be more than just a sanctuary, but a future.
I look back to see that Carl and I have fallen ahead again, something that has become a sort of habit within the past few days. The other two members of our group share a laugh over a joke behind us. I'm glad to see happiness around, even if it's just a little bit. It helps get me through the day just a little easier.
"I'm sorry," Carl says suddenly. It catches me off guard. What's he sorry for? He hasn't done anything wrong. Is he talking about winning? I'm not sour about it. It was all out of fun.
"Why?" I finish my last bite of chocolate before wiping my hands on my jeans.
"I got mad at you for being hurt when we left the prison." He motions down to my calf as if I wouldn't know what he's referring to. "I wasn't mad at you. I was just . . . mad."
"You lost things. We all did. There's no reason for you to have to justify that."
Carl glances over his shoulder to see how far behind the others are before speaking. "I lost Judith. She was all I had left of my mom, you know?" I nod. I know exactly what he's talking about. The way he said it makes it so much more understandable than the way I would've.
"That's the way I've been trying to explain my situation to others for forever," I confess. "When my parents died, it felt like Milo was my responsibility. I had to take care of him and I had to look after him. In a way, I felt like I had to grasp onto him tighter because it was one of the last things my parents left. I knew they never intended to leave either of us, but the way it all went down made it seem like his life was my responsibility. I also wanted to have something left that was theirs - a piece of them. Now, I'm all there is."
The words made so much sense to me, but I feel like nobody ever fully got them. Even if they tried or wanted them to, it wasn't easy. When Carl nods his head, I know he understands it all. When his eyes twinkle as he presses a smile onto his lips, I know he gets things much deeper than even that.
Our conversation is ended when a walker bursts from the woods to our left. "I got it!" Carl calls. He takes his knife out, reaching up to kill the female walker. The groaning is silenced immediately and allows the birds to fall back into their chorus of music.
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A/N: Just a short, kinda cute chapter! <3