❛ YOU PROMISED. ❜
44. CARL?!
❛ SEASON 06 EPISODE 08/09 ❜
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It feels as if my body is not my own, as if it someone were controlling it for me, hindering me from doing certain things; sprinting as an example.
Ten green balloons knotted together and slowly wobbling toward the atmosphere, forces me to run toward the wall, all while watching as they float in the sky. It has to be Glenn. It has to be Glenn. I chant within my mind, slowing down out of exhausting and placing my hands on my knees to catch my breath. A smile full of hope spreading across my face.
"It has to be." I mumble under my breath.
And just like always, slivers of happiness and hope fall into hasty ruin.
In the corner of my eye, the building used as a guarding tower, the white church that stands so closely to the wall, now wobbles. It seemed to move in slow motion, teetering to the left, then the right until deciding to drop right atop of the wall. I freeze, watching as everything happens right in front of me with fear stabbing through my heart.
Run. I warn myself, but nothing. It wasn't until the mixture of dust and wind pushes me back I blink into reality.
"Kendall!" I quiver with tears swelling in my eyes and a huge bile rising within my throat. Seconds before one of them could touch me, a hand grabs my arm and pulls me off the ground. "Come on." Rick says, pushing me forward and sprinting behind me.
I become unaware of phenomenon happening around me, yet seriously and very aware of a torturing kind of pain achingly pulsing within the palm of my hand. Dark red filled my eyes when I glance down at it; blood pouring from the large scarring wound that cut through my palm. I purposely begin to slack, falling back and slowing down so that I could really see it. The way it begins to pale strikes more fear in me.
"Hey!" Carl screams in my ear, bumping my shoulder.
When did he even get here?
"Ah." I whimper, trailing behind them weakly and sluggishly— right into Jessie's home. "Ah, shit." I whimper again, scorching the walls of my throat while trying to hold in my tears; all while closing and locking the door behind me.
In the middle of all the chaos and destruction my adrenaline crumbles drastically, forcing an overwhelming amount of pain to come forth; not only from the would, it buzzes throughout me, quivering up my arm and rolling down my back.
I allow the pain to flood in when I stand alone.
As the last pair of shoes, or so I thought, had disappeared upstairs, I slip into the bathroom. Ignoring the revolting reflection in the mirror, I turn on the cold water and stick my palm under it. A sting zaps throughout my hand, shooting up my arm, causing the dried blood underneath my sleeve to crack. Carefully, I slip off my shirt, hissing in agony when it grazes my fresh scar.
Knock, knock, knock. "Kendall..?" The unsure voice calls for me, and because of my refusal to answer them or the door, they open it. "Ken— oh!" I sigh and look away from the mirror. His cheeks slowly redden, turning away from my indecency and clearing his throat. "Sorry."
I scoff from his embarrassment, glancing down at my bra then up again, looking at the back of his head.
"I didn't mean to see, uh.." He breathes. "I mean, I wanted to check on you, but, uh.."
"Carl... could you, um, could you come in and help me with this.. thing?" I ask him hopefully, watching the hesitance of his movements. I lift my hand, showing him the scar that has yet to stop bleeding.
He steps in, quickly, shutting and locking the door behind himself. "Shit." He grabs hold of my wrist with a tight grip, raising my hand in the air and analyzing the scar with disgust.
"I think I cut my hand back at the wall." I sigh as he stretches his arm pass me to open up the cabinet, that hovers over the toilet, to grab the wrap. "Deanna already is hurt. I didn't want to be another problem, you know?"
"Mm." He hums, completely focused on my hand. Again, I hiss in pain while he dabs my wound with a damp paper towel. While Carl wraps my palm, he looks up at me, but when doing the same as him, he looks back down.
He didn't think I'd notice, but I did.
"Thanks." I murmur, dropping the weight in my hand and locking eyes with him. "I, um.. yeah, thanks."
"You said that already."
"Yeah.. well, thank you three times." I shrug, sliding my hand out of his.
His eyes burn through mine, burning away the darkness within them; my soul hops because of it. Instead of looking past me, like he has done as of lately, his eyes look at— he eyes find me. And every single feeling I have for him in this moment, he could see in my eyes. It makes me shiver.
I wanted to kiss him. I want to feel that fleeting
minute of passion, that fire within me when our lips touch. But, it isn't time for that, not yet. So when he leans in, I step away from him to clear my throat
"Thanks four times." I whisper, breaking away from his tempting stare. Motioning at the door and down my body, I say, "I should, uh, put on my shirt."
"Oh! Yeah.." He hums uncomfortably, opening the door.
I exhale deeply as soon as he was out of sight, lowering my head. "Ah hell." I mumble before picking up my shirt and throwing it back on. I breathe, again, giving myself a second to calm down the thumping of my heart before exiting, only to be met with an empty home.
Alone.. and wholly terrified, I kneel in front of the window and peek through the curtains with my lips dipped into a frown, watching the dead drone around mindlessly, in search of someone or something fresh. We're trapped, every single one of us— those who are alive— like mice. It was useless to do anything but just sit and wait to die. We're all dead. I am dead; sooner than I'd expected. At the same time, these thoughts, unlike the sight, were more relaxing than scary.
"Ron?" A voice calls from one of the rooms in the back, making my attention to the problems outside break. A door closes shortly after and I stand, following the sound of low and muffled voices.
The garage door, though it was closed, is very thin and I couldn't help but eavesdrop on Ron and whoever was in there with them, pressing my ear against the door gently.
"Enid's dead.. We're all dead." Ron says, voice muffled and somber.
"Look, my dad's gonna figure something out." The other teenager, Carl, attempts to reassure him. "He always does."
"That's bullshit." Ron scoffs, the sound of his voice growing louder. "Your dad's just gonna get more people killed. 'Cause that's what he does.. That's who he is... Your dad's a killer."
"So was yours." Carl responds.
A beat of silence whines within the air, making me release a breath from the tension I was able to feel through the door. I knew Ron was upset, but not this upset, not reaching the point of him saying things such as that.
"We need to work this out."
"I'm dead, Carl." Ron mumbles. "My mom is dead. My brother is. Kendall is dead." I could hear the sadness and relinquish in his tone. It was the moment I knew he was done; like my hope, his died as well.
"No, they're not." Carl continues trying to get through to Ron, but his all of his attempts fall flat. "We're gonna make it.."
"Your dad—" Ron says standing in front of the door, making me flinch. "—you're dead, too." Ron locks the door and the sound of it clicking echoes through the hall. I hesitate, pressing my lips together. "We're all dead."
A yell rips into the air before something slams against the door, wobbling it, making me jump; and that same something— someone— fell into something else, knocking stuff around. I finally lunge forward to help, using both hands to grip the doorknob and shake it furiously.
"Carl?!" I scream hoarsely, using my shoulder to try and break the door when a gunshot went off, continuing to jimmy the knob.
"Kendall, what the hell is going on?!" Rick comes down the stairs, taking my place at the door and using his strength to do as I just did. "Carl!" He shouts, slamming his palm against the door.
"I don't know... the door was locked and one of them screamed. All I could hear was shit being knocked around— then the gunshot." I explain.
"Carl?!"
"Ron!" Jessie bangs against the door, shouting for the son that caused all of this.
"Back up." Rick orders us while pulling out his hatchet, pounding it against the door with a lot of force. It doesn't take long, only seconds, but when it opens, he beckons them into the house.
Because of Ron's anger and immaturity during this time of danger, we were forced to hold the door closed as the walkers, that were drawn to us due to all the noise, shove their dead bodies against it. I glance between both boys with my eyes narrowed into slits; they linger on Ron, a bubble of irritation bursting inside me, as well as a scowl etching across my expression. "You dumb dipshits."
Rick, after rushing off when the two boys were back inside, comes back with a couch dragging across the floor, in his hands. We all step away when it was time, letting him to push the couch against the door. Right on time, the priest came running down the stairs to help.
"We need more, and we need to be quiet." Rick whisper-yells at Gabriel— and Michonne.
"I'll see what I can find." Michonne responds, hurrying off in the opposite direction; Gabriel following after her.
"Me, too."
"I got it!" Jessie says, taking Gabriel's place.
"Hey, hey, what happened in there?" Rick asks his son, quickly glancing back at Ron.
"We were looking for tools and knocked over a shelf." Carl's quick to lie; it came off the tip of his tongue too smoothly, I nearly believed him.
"We heard yelling." Jessie says.
"Yeah, Ron saw them break through the gates." He lies to them again. "We had to move. That's what happened." Liar.
Ron blinks, leaning forward nervously. "Carl, there's, uh, nightstands in my mom's room. We can brace the couch with them."
"Hey.." Jesse touches her son. "Hey, it sounded like you were fighting."
"Yeah, but we were fighting them." Ron says in a defensive tone, going up stairs after sending a look to Carl.
"Carl? It's okay?" Rick asks.
"It's okay."
A small puff of air rolls from my mouth when I step forward to help the two adults, holding my palms against the couch and nudging. Standing between both of them feels uncomfortable, and it gets worse when their eyes burn into the side of my head. I ignore them, which seemed more uncomfortable.
"Kendall." The tone Rick uses reminds me of my own dad. I sigh and shake my head. "What happened in there?"
"I.. I was out here."
"Walls are thin." Jessie tells me. "We heard fighting and you were right outside the door, right?"
"I just know that Ron and Carl.. they aren't on the best of terms right now." I shrug staring at the floor. "Uh.. It's, it's stuff between all of us, and it's stupid. They'll get over it, okay?" I tell them.
Before either of them could say anything, Ron and Carl came back downstairs, putting Jessie's nightstands against the couch and holding it in place.
In an empty bedroom, free from the sounds of struggle, I kneel on the ground, praying. Once, long ago, my mom and I did this together, and now I do it alone. I wasn't even sure I believed, never have I ever claimed to be religious, but I need a miracle and if They are real and if They watch over everyone, maybe a single prayer is all that is needed. I just want my hope again, I want to believe that we can get through this in one piece— together. So, praying is what I do.
"Kendall! Get out here!"
Either They aren't real or They aren't listening, whatever it may be, the prayer means nothing. The dead has broken their way into the house, and that means staying here is dying; we only have one ticket out without being chewed into bits. With thin sheets thrown over our clothes, stinking of a rotting smell, we spreed the guts and blood of dead walkers over ourselves and blend in with them.
It's a good plan, horrifying, but good. It's been done before and I got to watch it happen. Way back in Downtown Atlanta, Rick and Glenn in the streets, maneuvering pass an huge band of walkers. It's a good plan, an awfully terrifying, good plan.
"Are you alright, Kendall?" Ron stands beside me, snatching my focus away from the walkers at the bottom of the stairs.
"No. Nothing about this is alright, Ron." I scoff and glare at him. "You need to get in control of your feelings before someone dies." As soon as the words left my lips I regret it, sighing. "Hey, just.. don't die, alright?"
"I promise." He grins tightly.
From my giant pores, sweat bleeds from them; the beady, dead eyes of walkers boring through mine shook me to my core. I clutched his hand tighter, releasing a deep and uneasy breath. As we slip pass them their bodies bump into mine, shoving me back a few steps. I pressed my lips into a thin line, staring at my feet as they move because the fear pulsing within my heart keeps me from looking anywhere else.
Rick glances around, leading the group toward the the pond, making sure we're obscured from the oddly viligant eyes of the dead before even thinking of speaking to us. "Alright, new plan." I sigh, listening with my back facing Rick, my hand hovers the handle of my machete, scared but ready to kill when he needed. "Flares from
a few guns aren't enough. Too many walkers... too spread out." His whispers. "We're not going to the armory. We need our vehicles back at the quarry. All of us drive. We'll need to round em' up. We leave, we come back."
"Okay." Jessie is on board immediately. "But.. Judith.. to the quarry and back, I.."
"I'll take her." Gabriel says, looking Rick in the eyes. "Keep her safe in my church, until you all lead the walkers away."
"Can you do this?" Michonne glances over her shoulder at Gabriel.
"I'm supposed to. I have to. I will." He answers her, looking back at Rick with determination.
"Alright." Rick breathes before motioning for his son to come closer, holding his shoulder as Carl hands Judith over to the priest.
"Shh, shh, shh.. Shhh, shhh." Gabriel shushes, hiding her under his sheet.
"Take Sam." Jessie attempts to offer him to the priest but reject the offer, whining and shaking his head.
"No."
"Yes, Sam, it'll be safer."
"I'm not leaving you."
"Sam—"
"Mom, I'm not. I can keep going."
"Sam—"
"I can keep going. Please. Please." Jessie looks at him deeply. "Let's just go."
"Okay." She sighs, nodding at her younger son.
"I'm going to keep her safe." Gabriel tells Rick.
"Thank you." Rick says watching Gabriel as he slowly shuffles away from his.
"He's gonna make it." Jessie grabs Rick's hand, telling him gently. "Okay? I know it."
"Sam." Rick turns over to her son, holding out his hand and forming the line once again.
Carl reaches for Ron's, who hesitates to take it, pushing me to stand in between them and grasp both of their hands; holding each tightly. I sigh, looking vetween them and nodding confidently before taking a step into the society of walkers again.
The sun sets, almost too quick. And as the sky darkens, the air around us tensed. I tighten the hold I have on their hands, continuing to walk forward with a trembling frown dipping on my lips. I breathe through my mouth and raise my head to the sky, staring at the moon. It's as if it shines down on us specifically, like a spotlight, to make it easier for them to catch us faking to be them; it's what I'm afraid of— being caught.
Our steps slow, each and every one of us came to an immediate stop. All because of Sam. This is exactly what I feared would happen.
"Sam..?" Jessie whispers, leaning down a bit to look into his eyes. "Sam? Come on, come on." As she pulls him forward, he steps back, tears building in his eyes. "Sweetheart? Sam?" She continues to call for him but it looked as if it's falling on deaf ears.
"You can do it." Rick tries. "You can do it."
"Yes, you can. Sam... Sam, come on." Jessie pulls him again, but he doesn't budge.
"Come on, Sam." Rick whispers, trying to keep his voice down to minimum.
"Sam. Sam?"
"Sam..." Ron calls for him, too. "Hey, you can do this." Sam keeps stepping back, shaking his head and quivering in fear. "Sam just look at Mom."
"Honey, you can do it." Jessie raises her voice just a smidge. "Sam, you're gonna get—"
The more noise and movement we make, the more attention we draw, and Sam did both. It becomes an intense situation when he started sobbing, bringing the dead right to us. Jessie tries with him, but it's all she could do before what usually happens, happens to her boy— right in front of her, and so suddenly, too. He screamed as teeth sunk into his head, causing me to flinch back from its grotesqueness; his screaming didn't stop, which drew more. She was forced to watch as walkers pile on top of her son.
And then, she broke. For her son, she released an ear-shattering scream— and, of course, she only makes the situation worse.
"Jessie.."
"Jessie. Jessie." Carl and Rick call for her, but like her son, she can't hear, she refused to.
"Come— come with us. Come on. We have to go." Carl mutters, pulling on her hand but she ignores him.
And she was next to die. Four walkers, out of the blue jumping at her, gripping onto her and biting through her skin. Jessie's screams make the hand in mine loosen— Ron.
"Ron.. Ron, we can do this, okay?" I face him, stepping toward him as he watches his mother die tearfully. "Ron, don't— don't look, please. We.. We have to go."
"We're dead.." He says unemotionally, looking down. "We're all dead." Ron kneels to grab the fallen gun.
"No!" I stand in front of him, but he shoves me away, forcing me on the ground. "Ron, please." I whimper, pulling out my machete.
Ron ignores me completely, looking straight at Rick in anger. "You. You."
A sob racked from my body when her sword is shoved through him from the back. I screamed, or at least I thought I did— my mouth dropped open but nothing came out. As his body falls to the ground I watched, I watched as the walkers came to him and kneeled just to chump on him as if he was nothing but a meal. Then it hit me, the gun went off. I turn to the right, hoping and praying the bullet hit nothing.
But it did.
"Hah.." I wail loudly, staring at my best friend, who has a huge bullet hole in his eye. "Hah." I hesitate, his body dropping after calling for his dad. "CARL?!" I screech in heartbreak, louder than I have in my entire life.
I can't breathe or think. I couldn't do anything.
"Kendall, come on."
I stand from the ground and catch up to them, hot and sultry tears blurring my vision. I slice the air, hacking through them without any care, and with blame. With all the blood bathing me, it becomes impossible to see; lucky enough we made it to the infirmary safe and sound. I wipe my hand across my face after shutting the door.
I pull the sheet off of me, throwing it onto the floor with a huff.
Anger blisters the inside of my gut, burning me from the inside out; watching them rush around freely, as much as they want without the fear of being chased down or dying. Parasites are what they are— murdering others without the will to stop themselves from doing so. It's not entirely their fault, which brought me to a solution. Kill them; show them mercy. Kill them all. It's what they deserve.
Kill. Them. All.
"Kendall? Kendall? Don't you go out there!" I ignore whoever it is calling for me and exit the building, holding my machete tight. "Kendall!" Their screams for me die as I slam the door on them.
I have no control of my actions at the moment, the anger I feel in my bones is poison; it's dark but deserving to feel this. It touches my core; I feel it inside me, shaking around and bubbling deep within. I felt nothing, just this, and I love every moment of it.
Their blood, like before, drowns me, splashing across my face. I couldn't care about it, just the rushing feeling it gave me.
The father of my best friend joined me, and my mind was too far gone to even notice, but when I do, I act as if he wasn't there. And along Rick was Michonne, and everyone else. Soon, it was almost everyone on the streets helping us. I kill for Carl, for Ron, for my untamed rage; I didn't kill to save our asses, not like them.
He better not fucking die.
ALEXANDRIA AGAIN
"I can't keep doing this." I say, staring down at my lap and fiddling with my fingers. "It's over and over again. I can't keep feeling this— this, voideness every time you don't come back. It's sickening for me to feel that way." Looking up and staring off in the distance, I release a deep breath. "One day, you won't be able to survive, you won't be able to make it back to me, and I will be waiting for you without even knowing something happened." Finally, I turn my head and make eye contact with him. "And really, I understand, you have your wife to tend to, and I can take care of myself, but I need you alive. I need you, period. You're like a big brother to me, Glenn. It goes without saying. So.. please, don't die. I still owe you my life."
A beat of silence surrounds me, accompanying us both. It feels like the world stopped for us to have this talk, like it's only us right now.
Sudden warmth floods my body when his arm wrapped around me, bringing me into his side. "I'd never think of dying without giving you a goodbye first. And it does go without needing
to be said. You're my sister.. and I love you as much as I love Maggie— remember that." He tells me, laughing at my teary expression. His arm around me tightens, bringing me in closer and squeezing me. "And you owe me nothing, Kendall, but I owe you everything."
Big Brother, Glenn; it has a nice ring to it.
GOODMORNINGGGGGG!!!!
Anyways, what font do you guys read in, huh? I read in Times New Roman or sometimes I read in Georgia.
Read, comment, & vote, love you guys!!