After what I would call a successful training session, I help Rosita pack up the machetes and say goodbye to everyone as the learners disperse. "You know, I'd really appreciate it if you'd come again tomorrow. You helped me out a lot today."
"Sure. It was fun," I say, sort of happy I stayed. "Do you need help carrying the machetes back to the armory?"
"I've got it, but you can come along if you want. I have to keep watch right now. Maybe you can keep me company."
"Sure." I walk with Rosita, slowly making our way to the armory where she deposits the bucket for Olivia to deal with. I find it funny that Olivia is in charge of watching over the weapons considering she's nearly deathly afraid of them herself. Rosita slings a rifle over her shoulder, signing it out on the sheet, and takes some extra ammunition for her pistol. While Rosita is busy with that, I ask Olivia for a jar of pickles and two cans of chicken broth, some of the only things that we have to spare now that the rationing has begun. Luckily, I'm not a picky eater. Cold chicken broth was by far one of the better things I've had to eat when in a pinch. I thought it'd be best to take the plain stuff so that the others who haven't acclimated to such conditions won't have to suffer as long.
Once we leave, Rosita leads me to the watch tower she's in charge of for the next few hours. I follow her up the ladder, peering over the edge as soon as I reach the top. Past the wall, almost all of what my eyes are drawn to are the hundreds, perhaps even low thousands, of walkers, their snapping jaws and dirty nails wanting us and our fresh blood more than anything.
"Sometimes, I forget about them being here," Rosita says, removing the gun from her shoulder and leaning it against the railing. "What'd you get us to eat?" she asks.
I hold out the pickle jar and the two cans of broth. "It's the best I could do. Didn't want to take too much since we're rationing and everything. I might even save the other half of my broth for dinner." Rosita takes one of the cans, puncturing the metallic lid with her knife.
"If you're hungry now, then eat it all. We'll get more soon. It's not something to worry about."
"We need to be rationing, though," I say.
"I think we need to be more concerned about them rationing. To me, that means not gorging yourself like they're used to. An entire can of chicken broth for lunch won't hurt anyone. You've starved enough. You haven't even gained half of the weight back from when we were on the road."
I want to argue with her, but Rosita held up some good points and I am hungry right now. At certain times, I guess I have somehow forgotten to eat when I should have. It was never my top priority. After we're done rationing, I guess I should go back to eating more frequent, and filling, meals. I want to be strong again, not barely able to make it to the top of the ladder when climbing to the watch tower.
I carefully slice my blade through the top of the metal can before quietly sipping my cold chicken broth. It's nothing exciting, that's for sure, but one thing I've learned about eating chicken broth is that if you close your eyes, you can almost make it seem like chicken noodle soup. Of course, there aren't any carrots, noodles, or anything of the such, but I can pretend like there are.
"And an entire pickle jar? You're spoiling us today," Rosita laughs as she opens the container and takes out a pickle. Once I'm mostly done with my soup, I nibble on one, too, taking small bites since I'm almost full from just the soup alone. I think about offering the rest of my broth to Rosita, but I know she'll object it and tell me to have it instead, so as Rosita stands back up to keep watch, I stay seated, swinging my legs over the edge of the platform while taking small drinks of my broth.
"You're fourteen, right?" Rosita asks. I want to nod along immediately, but then the question makes me starts to question it.
"Um . . . actually, I don't know. I think so?"
"How old were you when everything started?"
"Twelve." I remember that fact.
"When's your birthday?"
"January twentieth."
"You might be fifteen by now."
"Really?"
"Yeah. If it was just January a little over a month ago, then I think so." Rosita shakes her head, laughing a little. "Hell, I could be wrong. I can't keep track of time anymore."
"Me neither. It just feels like the same day over and over again."
"One day, we'll know again. Maybe I should've brought a calendar to the apocalypse."
"Maybe," I smile as I finish the last of my broth. For some reason, her little comment reminds me of Dale, somebody I haven't thought of for so long, lost in a moment in time. Rosita never knew him. There were plenty of people she never got to know that were once a part of my group. I'm sure there were many more members in her group that we never got to meet. Keeping that kind of stuff to ourselves is how memories die. That's why I decide to tell her about him. "You know, you reminded me of someone that-"
"Rosita! Rosita!" I look down to see Eugene on the ground, running our way with his hands waving in the air.
"What the hell is he doing?" Rosita mutters. "Eugene, what-"
"Rosita, you need to fire some shots over your post and you need to do it right now!" Fear reigns all over his face, his cheeks red from running. "Rosita, you have to do what-"
"Eugene, I can barely hear you, come up the ladder if you want to talk!" Rosita shouts down annoyed. In her defense, it was quite difficult to make out his words through his panting.
"He said something about firing shots from your post. I don't know what that means," I tell her. "Eugene, who told you this?"
"Tara!" Eugene yells as he struggles to climb the ladder. "Tara . . . and you have to do . . . it's because Spencer -" The cracking of gunshots near the gate splits through the door, alarming me immediately.
"Emmie, go find Tara. Figure out what's going on, now!" As soon as Eugene is at the top of the ladder, I'm climbing down the metal rungs, the contraption almost shaking back and forth until I drop halfway down to the ground, my legs barely catching me before I'm sprinting as quickly as I can towards the gate. I don't see anyone around as I get on the road, pumping my arms to help improve my speed as the thin air pushes into my lungs. As I continue further, more and more gunshots follow, making me have to do everything in my power not to freak out. Those sounds are my alerts that whatever is going on isn't good and I'm walking into danger.
I slow once I get closer to the gate, the wall still in tact, but gunshots echoing over it. I look between the two guard posts, deciding to head to Tara's. The gunfire halts as I see Tara being pulled over the side of the wall by Michonne. I scramble up the ladder, barely reaching the top with how much energy I've spent out of what little I had to begin with.
"What's going on?" I ask Michonne breathlessly. "Eugene came looking for Rosita. I was with her on watch. He said something about Tara and Spencer, but we didn't understand."
"I told him go get her and Maggie to fire over the wall at their posts. Spencer tried to climb over the wall, but he didn't tell anyone." Tara's chest heaves as she speaks. "I had to fire those shots while Rick helped him back over, but I needed the sound to be diverted."
"You did the right thing," Michonne says, calmly, but from Rick's shouts in our direction, he doesn't feel the same.
"Tara! You almost died once for these people!"
"What?" Tara asks incredulously.
"What the hell were you doing?" Tara raises her arm flipping Rick off. I don't know whose side to take right now, so I just stay silent.
The gunshots from the other posts erupt like small firecrackers, signaling that Rosita and Maggie are finally doing as they were told. I start for the ladder, but Michonne grabs my arm to stop me. "Where are you going?"
"I have to go talk to Rosita. I just came up here to find out what's going on. Now that I know, I have to go back." Michonne scans my face for a brief second before releasing my arm from her grasp and letting me climb down the ladder. Once my feet touch the ground, I start jogging towards Rosita's post, not hurrying as much as I had been while running away from it. Everyone's okay now and there isn't anything to worry about.
I reach Rosita's post, barely out of breath, Eugene is gone. I don't know what to make of that. I'm surprised that he was the one Tara sent to deliver the news to Rosita, but I guess she just had to work with whoever was around and it just happened to be him. "Hey," she says as soon as she sees me. "What's going on?"
I head to the ladder, climbing up, my weak muscles causing me to shake a little, something I'm embarrassed about. "It was Spencer. He tried to climb over to the wall - tried to be heroic but wasn't thinking about how stupid it was."
"Is he okay?" Rosita asks somewhat nervously.
"Yeah?" I say furrowing my eyebrows. "I mean, I don't know. He seemed like it." Rosita must have noticed my confusion because she wipes her face blank again as if nothing happened. I decide not to question her about it. "Rick's pissed at Tara, though. I guess she was shooting over the wall at the walkers so Spencer could get away. She could've gotten herself killed."
"Why would he be angry about her helping Spencer?" Rosita questions.
I shrug. "He just said that she had already almost died once for these people."
"Whatever. At least everyone is safe," Rosita sighs. "If you want, there are a bunch of pickles leftover. You can have them all."
"I'm full," I say. "I'll bring them home, though." Rosita and I stand there a little while longer, not speaking, just looking around. Too often, I run out of things to say to these people. I want to move to another topic, but am not sure what until I see the cluster of green balloon floating above the walls and into the sky, hovering over the land past Alexandria.
"Look!" I exclaim, pointing to the lime green balloons. "What-"
"Glenn. It has to be Glenn!" Rosita grins, looking at the balloons, too. I exchange an excited look with her, hardly able to believe my eyes. If what we're seeing is real and everything we've assumed is, too, then that means that Glenn is alive and well. I only needed a sign, one little thing, to pacify my stress. I know Maggie will feel the same once she sees it.
"Has Maggie seen? I hope she's seen," I say. I know the signal is visible for everyone, but it was obviously truly meant for her. Their love is admirable, something so perfect that it doesn't even seem real at times, but now it can be the same again.
"She's seen it. Wherever she is, she's seen it," Rosita assures me. I turn my attention back to the balloons, their seamless glide through the sky almost calming. I reach a hand up, holding my fingers towards them as if their surfaces were close enough to touch despite the fact they're slowly floating further and further away from us. I wish I could be flying with them, high above the world below me, well aware that none of the danger below could touch me, no matter how much it tried.
"Emmie! Emmie!" Rosita grabs my arm forcefully, snapping me from my daze. "The watchtower!" I look to where Rosita is pointing just in time to she the dilapidated building tilting, a few white boards dropping away from its chipping structure before the entire thing topples over in a heap, plowing over the wall in a heap, throwing up an enormous cloud of dust that's been settling in the crevices of the tall building for years. I'm frozen in place, not sure where to go or what to do. "Emmie, we have to go. Now!"
I nod, hurrying to the ladder. I start to climb down, but my foot slips with my hastiness, causing me to fall almost the entire way to the ground from the top of the platform. The few rungs I had managed to descend did nothing for me. I land on my side, thinking I've broken my arm for a few solid seconds before Rosita is on the ground beside me grabbing my limbs and helping me to my feet. "Are you okay?" she shouts in my ear, the urgency of the situation worrying her, too.
"I'm fine," I shout back, starting in the direction of the front wall. I can already see the walkers coming through the settling cloud of dust as I shake my arm, willing the pain to go away.
"Where the hell are you going?" Rosita yells at me. "We have to go this way!"
"No!" I shout back. "I can't!"
"What are you talking about? Let's go!" I shake my head, pulling my arm right from her hand.
"I have to go find Rick. I have to find Carl! I have to do it! I can't hide somewhere with you when I know he could still be out there!"
"Emmie, he'd want you to be with me! He'll be fine. Now, let's go!"
I shake my head. "No." Rosita parts her lips to argue again, but I don't give her the chance. "Either we sit here and argue and we both die, or you let me go and we both have a chance. Got it?"
"No. I can't let you go."
"Please, for once, just trust me."
"Em-"
"I'll see you later. I promise."
"Emmie!" I don't listen. I'm already turning and running away from her, not looking back. I can't. For a moment as I run, I'm worried that she's following me, trying to grab me and take me with her, but I know that looking back will only slow me down. I don't know what I'm doing or what's going through my head. All I can think about is Carl, needing to see his face and know he's alright. I need to see the others too, but he's the first person that comes to my mind.
My feet slap the ground, shooting pain through my legs, my muscles groaning and begging me to stop. The entire left side of my body aches, but I'm lucky to have turned at the last second. Had I not, I most likely would've landed on my back and where would I be now?
I can hear the walkers before I can even see them. I pull my knife from my belt and grip it tightly in my hand, knowing it's more likely than not that I'll have to use it at some point soon.
I see the walkers coming my way. I stop in my tracks, glancing down at my blade and back at the walkers before thinking better of trying to fight and running towards the space in between two of the houses. As I charge forward, my foot catches on something. I don't look down to see what it is because I already just about face planted into the ground, but I have a pretty strong feeling it's a rock. My mind flips back to my father, his last moments about to become the same as mine if I can't get my act together. "Shit," I mutter under my breath as I push my hands into the soft surface to turn myself over onto my back. I look at my knees to see both of them stained with dirt, but the right one is seeping crimson through the denim fabric.
I look up to see a walker coming my way. A second one's eyes catch me, one after another doing the same until there are a total of four growling at me. I skid backwards on the palms of my hands, reaching for my soil to pull me back. Somehow, I plant my heel in the ground, forcing myself to stand because I know I won't survive any other way. I hold up my knife, lucky it didn't get lodged into my own body when I fell, and get ready to keep running. That's when I am met with another face, not even a centimeter from mine. Well, maybe it would be if it weren't for the height difference, me standing short.
"Oh my god," I breathe once my mind can register who I'm actually looking at. "Carl, what do we do?" Carl pulls me behind him, raising his gun and firing four shots, each one full of precision and bringing down each walker.
"We run. We have to find my dad!" I look over to see Ron standing on the road just behind us. "Come on!" I run beside Carl, Ron trailing along. "You're okay?" Carl shouts over the commotion.
"Fine!" I reply, barely missing a walker with its arm outstretched. The more I look around, the more walkers fill my vision, taking up any free space within the community. I want to scream and cry, but my emotions are caught inside me, bottled up and unable to escape.
I look around manically, needing to find the others. Where do we go? I think about telling Carl that we should double back and look for Rosita, but one glance behind me at the growing mob tells me that isn't the brightest idea. I rack my brain for other ideas, but come up blank. I have nothing. Luckily, Carl spots his father, Gabriel, Deanna, and Michonne. I let out the tiniest sigh of relief as we move towards them.
"Carl! Emmie!" Rick yells, motioning for us to come his way. I see the blood staining Deanna's clothes immediately and know something is up from the way she's hobbling at Rick's side. A walker reaches for me, but I lodge my knife into its skull before it can even get close, bringing it down. Carl tucks his gun away, taking his knife out instead. I look to see even Gabriel wielding a machete, the blade glistening in tacky, red liquid. We're a mess, but somehow, all put together as we move along.
I take down another walker, listening to the corpse thud by my feet. It's barely audible amongst the ravenous growling. I pull my knife away, searching for my next target as Rick and Deanna move onwards, but the crowd circles in front of us, cutting us off from our street, the place I'm guessing Rick was heading.
I let out a huff, having a hard time considering which walker to go for since there's so many and they're all so close "Oh!" Deanna exclaims as they grow nearer.
Fuck. I can see it all, the same death as both my parents will meet me, bringing me down until I'm nothing but a cluster of intestines to chew on. Then, I'll come back, roaming the world aimlessly, feeling nothing but hunger and the need to kill.
As I'm trying to figure out what to do, to give myself one last fight before my soul is so callously plucked from my body, gun shots erupt in front of us, catching me off guard. The small wall of corpses that had been building in front of us is decimated only to reveal Jessie standing behind them. For a second, I can't move or even breath as our path is cleared, but then Jessie is yelling at us and I decide to listen.
"Come on, I have Judith!" Oh, Judith. I hadn't initially thought of her, but I'm more than glad to know she's okay and in good hands. Once I can focus again, I follow everyone else as quickly as I can to Jessie's house and sprint up the porch steps. Carl makes it to the door first, pushing it open as everyone else files inside afterwards.
I hadn't been in Jessie's house since I had come very shortly after our entry to the community to meet Ron. Not much has changed. I put my knife back in it's sleeve and help draw the curtains closed. Rick's yelling commands at people, but my head is spiraling too much to focus. I watch as he grabs Deanna, picking her up and trudging up the stairs with her.
"I need to get Judith," Carl says, leaving my side and following up the stairs. I can vaguely hear her screaming, but all I want to do is shut it out.
I see Ron standing by the base of the stairs, pacing back and forth. "What are you so scared of?" I ask stiffly. "I mean it."
Ron looks up at me, surprised almost. "Nothing. I'm not."
"You are. Something is stressing you out and I don't feel like it's those walkers. What is it?" I want to press on, but Carl comes down the stairs with Judith, her cries having turned into mere muffled sobs. Rick follows, stacks of folded towels and sheets in his arms.
"Help hang these. We need this job done now." I grab a few sheets from his arms and stand on a chair to tie them onto the rods over the curtains. As I'm doing so, I steal a look outside. The good thing is that the walkers have just begun to file onto our street. They won't know we're in here if we can keep the noise level down and lights off. One glance at Judith in Carl's arms tells me that my hopes probably won't be the case.
Jessie comes walking down the stairs, holding her hand to her forehead which is glistening with sweat. "What's up?" Rick asks. I step down from the chair I was standing on and turn to look at Jessie.
"It's Deanna. She's in a lot of pain. And Sam is still scared and-"
"I can talk to him," I offer. "If that's okay with you-"
"That'd be great, Emmie. Thank you so much," Jessie says over her shoulder as she starts back up the stairs, leading Rick towards Deana and Michonne in the spare bedroom. I start to ascend the stairs when Carl calls out to me.
"Hey, can you take Judith, Em?" I nod, trying to read his facial expressions for any reason as to why he can't just keep her. She's content in his arms right now and I would hate to risk making her upset with the herd right outside. I nod just the same and take her from him. Surprisingly, she doesn't make a peep as I hold her in my arms and carry her up the stairs and towards Ron's room. I remember the location of it vaguely from when I had come the first time to see Ron. I find his door, knocking on it quietly. When the little boy inside opens it, I'm happy to know I was right.
"Hey, Sam. Can I come in?" I ask gently. Sam's large eyes survey me and then Judith before he hesitantly nods. "I'm Ron's friend, Emmie. I was at Deanna's party," I explain as I step past him. I know that's not exactly true, but it'll convince Sam. "Wow! You have a really cool bedroom!" I look around at the walls where drawing have been hung. Along the floor, an assortment of toys are littered alongside books and a box of crayons, the colors flung from the box and deposited in various places.
"Thanks. Wasn't that baby crying earlier? Won't the monsters hear?" I shake my head.
"She's happy now. It'll be okay. Are you scared of the monsters?" I ask, sitting on the floor and setting Judith down where she's found an interest in a red, plastic car. Sam nods again, sitting across from me on the floor. "I'm scared sometimes, too."
"You are?"
"Yeah. I'm scared a lot, actually."
"Then how do you . . . "
"How do I what?" Sam motions to my clothes where splotches of blood have deeply stained the fabric. "Oh, you mean kill, huh?"
"Yeah. How do you kill?"
I shrug. "I kill because I remember that I have to be brave, even if I have to pretend sometimes. It's how I help keep my friends and family safe. You'd do anything for you mom, right?"
"Yeah."
"That's why you have to be brave. You have to know that you'd do anything for the people you love."
"Are you brave for your mom and dad?" My small smile begs to fade, but I promised Jessie that I would comfort Sam and that's what I intend to do. Right now, I have to put on my brave face and talk about something that I'm always scared to bring up.
"My mom and dad aren't actually here anymore," I reply. Sam dips his head, not sure what to say, almost aware that he's brought up a sensitive topic, but also unsure how to dismiss it. "That doesn't mean I still don't have to put on my brave face for them. I had to continue with my life without them. It was hard, but I've gotten better at it little by little. I still try to wear my brave face for them as much as I can because I know they'd be proud." I pause, examining his sullen stare. "I know your mom would be proud of you."
"You think?"
"I know she would be. She's brave for you and Ron, so you have to be brave for her. That's how it works. Do you think you can do that?" Sam continues to stare at me as if unsure what to respond with. "It might be hard at first, I know, but you'll learn how to do it better and better each time." I look to see Judith chewing on the plastic car, seeming to be enjoying herself despite the worrisome speaking happening in the other room across the hall. Ron sees my eyes going there, so turns to look at the door for himself. That's when I drag his attention away by speaking about the baby. "I hope you're okay with Judith playing with your toys."
Sam shrugs, looking away from the door and at his collection of cars now being clutched in Judith's hands. She's grasped onto a green and blue one as well as the red one that's now sparkling with saliva. "I don't mind if it's her. If it was Ron, well, I'd be mad."
"Older brothers are the worst, huh?" I giggle, making Sam mirror somewhat of a grin on his lips.
"They are, usually."
"I was an older sister. It's not always easy being the oldest, either."
"Yeah, but you'd be a good older sister. Ron never talks to me, especially not like this." He pauses taking the car Judith had been trying to hand to him. "I wish you'd be my older sister."
"I can be your older sister," I reply.
"But . . . we're not related," Sam points out, confused.
"No, but some of the best family I've ever had isn't related to me." Images of Daryl, Rick, Rosita, Carol, Michonne, Tara, and of course, Carl, dance through my head.
"So, you can be my sister?"
"Of course, but only if you promise me you'll be brave today." I pick up Judith, her little hands dropping the toys on the floor. I walk over to the window, barely parting the blinds to see outside. "Look."
Sam walks towards me, peeking out the window to the street below where the walkers are milling around. I see his eyes widen in fear as the situation sinks in. As soon as I know the worry has built in his system enough, I drop the blind shut again and turn to him.
"Did that scare you?" He nods promptly. "It will. It always will, but you'll learn how to cope. It'll become-" My words are interrupted by a crashing followed by the sound of shattering glass coming from downstairs. I nearly jump, but don't. Sam does. I don't know what's going on, but I need to figure out and soon. "Take Judith-"
"I cant! Something bad is going to happen to-"
"No! We're gonna be fine!" I shout, forcing Judith into Sam's arms. He protests, but I speak over his complaints. "Just stay here and don't go anywhere. It'll be okay. I'll come back. I promise."
"You promise?"
"I promise," I say over my shoulder as I rush out the door and then slam it behind me. I hurry for the steps as quickly as I can, shouting Carl's name as I go. He was the only one, besides Ron, that was left downstairs. I look around until my eyes land on the garage door, the source of the sound. I try the handle, but it only rattles in its shell, not budging. I can hear Ron and Carl both grunting on the other side as my fists slap the wood. "Carl!" I scream, pounding on the door and feeling nothing but helplessness. "Carl!"
Rick and Jessie come running down the stairs and stop right behind me. "Carl!" shouts Rick, shaking the handle.
"It's locked!" I yell back.
"What's going on?" Jessie asks me, but I shake my head, unsure myself. "Ron!"
"Let me in, Carl!" Rick yells, but it's no use. "Carl, open the door!"
"Ron, open the door right now!" I don't know what to do, but from all the commotion, the walkers have been drawn our way, something that would have been completely avoidable had this little event not occurred.
"Back up," Rick instructs to both Jessie and me before he removes the hatchet from his belt and strikes the lock with the blade repeatedly. The metal dinging rings in my ears, as the hatchet tries to part the lock from the wood. I hear Carl's muffled voice yelling from the garage, but can't make out what he's saying between Rick's efforts at breaking the lock and the walkers that are now closer than I had originally thought. My hands shake, but I keep my brave face on, knowing it's be hypocritical to not do as much after just telling Sam he had no other choice but to listen to me.
In a fleeting moment, the lock splits open and the door is pushed inwards. The mood escalates, but I don't care about any of that. All I can focus on is Carl and where he is. Ron comes running inside first and for some reason, that just makes me angry. "Come on!" Rick yells through the door. I hear more glass shattering in the garage, chills running down my spine. Rick pulls Carl inside, forcing him through the door way. Carl almost trips on the steps inside, but is rather thrown into my arms. I get just a glimpse of the walkers entering into the garage before Rick slams the door.
I wrap my arms around Carl holding him to me as Jessie and Ron hold onto the door. "Are you okay?" I ask, seeing Rick carrying the sofa towards the broken door with Gabriel. Once Carl has nodded, I release him from my grasp, moving to help with the efforts of keeping the walkers out.
I push my palms against the soft cushions of the sofa, the large piece of furniture arguing with me because of the walkers on the other side. "We need more, and we need to be quiet," Rick says in a low voice.
"I'll see what I can find," Michonne says.
"Me too," Gabriel says. With everyone moving about and trying to find more furniture, Rick starts trying to talk to Carl.
"Hey, what happened in there?"
"We were looking for tools and knocked over a shelf." I pull one of my hands back, wiping away the sweaty baby hairs that are circling around my face.
"We heard yelling," Jessie points out, saying the same thing that was on my mind.
"Yeah, Ron saw them break through the gates. We had to move. That's what happened." When Carl is done speaking to Jessie, he meets my gaze. I hold it for a second, trying to figure out what was really going on because something in his tone tells me he's lying.
"Carl, there's nightstands in my mom's room. We can brace the couch with them," Ron suggests.
"Hey, it sounded like you were fighting," Jessie says.
"Yeah, but we were fighting them," Ron replies before walking away, presumably to his mom's room. Carl takes his hands off the couch, starting to follow him.
"Carl? It's okay?" Rick asks.
"It's okay," Carl responds before grabbing my arm with his cold hand and pulling my with him in the same direction. I follow along, not quite sure why I need to come, but at least knowing that something is up. As soon as we're in Jessie's room, Carl closes the door, clicking the safety off his gun and pointing it at Ron. I furrow my eyebrows, but Carl shakes his head to tell me there's reasoning behind what he's doing.
"Listen, I, uh-"
"Hand me the gun, grip first," Carl orders. The palms of walkers on the window behind Ron blot out the light, leaving haunting shadows on the wall. My mind drifts back to the gun, something I had completely forgotten about. Just as I had predicted, it had clearly become a problem.
"Carl, I'm sorry."
"Yeah, I know. Now give me the gun." Carl grabs my arm again, pulling me behind him as he inches towards the boy where he's examining the black, metallic device in his hands. Eventually, Ron holds out the gun so Carl can reach out and take it, something I had begun to think would never happen. "Look, man. I get it. My dad killed your dad, but you need to know something. Your dad was an asshole." Ron doesn't react, not breaking his stare as the growling of walkers outside only seems to grow.
________
A/N: I've decided to just change to one update day a week which will be on Tuesdays. I hope everyone liked this chapter. There's lots to come!
Q: If in the apocalypse, what food do you think you couldn't eat, even if it was your only option? If you could bring an unlimited supply of any food with you, what would it be?