[ ii. what friends are for ]
october 9th, 2010
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"GLENN! WHERE THE HELL are you?!"
With his heart pounding a mile a minute in his chest, Greyson Hunt was hunched over in a crouch, shuffling close to the ground as he desperately looked for his best friend. Even as he pushed deeper and deeper into the traffic snarl, Greyson could still very easily hear the giant pack of walkers making their way close behind. He chose not to look back for two reasons: one, he feared discovery, and two, he just did not want to. If Greyson did could not see the walkers, the walkers could not see him.
Obviously, it did not always work like that, but imagining that it did made him feel a lot better.
In the aftermath of the walker discovery, Dale had sought refuge at the top of the RV and Rick had split off in one direction whilst Greyson had taken off in another. It was very clear that the group was not going to be able to outrun the pack, so they had to hide. And they had to hide, fast.
Rounding an abandoned, rusted car, Greyson sighed in relief at the sight of Glenn Rhee absentmindedly trying to remove a radiator hose from beneath the hood of a water truck. A little bit further down the road, also absentmindedly rummaging through a small bag, was Shane Walsh. Both of them were completely and absolutely oblivious to the danger lurking only a few yards behind them.
"Glenn! Shane!" Greyson hissed, waving his hand wildly to get their attentions. "Get under the cars, now!"
Shane looked up, annoyance flashing briefly on his face, before he actually noticed how hard Greyson was currently breathing. Rising up from his knees, he opened his mouth to speak but after a single glance over Greyson's shoulder, he was hurriedly dropping back to the cement and disappearing under a nearby car.
Elsewhere Glenn—who was still furiously trying to pull the hose free—let out a small yelp as Greyson harshly collided with his friend and determinedly pulled him away from the hood. Throwing him to the ground, Greyson frantically began pushing Glenn into the space under the water truck and once he was secure, then quickly went in after him.
Turning on his side, Greyson laid his rifle flat against his heaving chest as his sweaty back pressed against Glenn's. "What's happening?" The Korean demanded shakily.
"Be quiet," Greyson hissed.
Greyson pressed his lips together in a firm line, hoping to silence his own breathing, and watched with burning sweat in his eyes as the wave of walkers began to pass by them. Greyson was trembling where he laid, terrified that this could be it. The walkers could find them, could smell them, could kill them. And that would be that. Greyson could not even scream, but oh, how he dearly wanted to. He was barely a man and he was not ready to die. He did not want to die being torn apart alongside his best friend, both of them trapped beneath an abandoned water truck.
Granted that it was likely the adrenaline coursing rampant in his body, but Greyson's mind could not help but go haywire beneath the truck. Only the worst of the worst could prevail from this situation. Right? Greyson did not want to find out. He could barely breathe. He could barely think. Clenching his eyes shut, Greyson gave up on trying to calm himself down, and simply hoped, agonizingly waiting for the sounds of growls and snarls to pass.
It felt never-ending.
Greyson's eyes instinctively snapped open, unable to find any comfort in the darkness of his own skull. Glancing up from the gap above their heads, Greyson's eyes connected with Shane's from the car over. Greyson could hardly believe what was looking back at him. Shane Walsh looked scared; a strong, burly man like him and he, too, seemed on the verge of cracking under the fear of their surroundings. Greyson had never seen such an emotion from Shane, and the mere realization that he was reacting like this did not make Greyson feel better about himself at all. He could not even begin to wonder about the others, wherever they may be. He could only hope that they were all okay—that the kids were okay.
Unbelievably, while slowly but surely, the walkers passed. Even as the silence engulfed the survivors once more, Greyson continued to wait beneath the water truck, petrified to move. His heart was roaring in his ears and his entire body shook. Daring to exhale a breath, Greyson looked up and down, and left and right, just trying to make sure that the coast was as clear as it now appeared to be.
Stretching a palm outward, into the open, to pull himself free, Greyson suddenly froze at the sharp sound of a shriek from deeper within the traffic snarl. It was a small, high-pitched scream, easily coming from one of the two children within the group.
"Is that Sophia?" Glenn gasped.
Clambering out from beneath the large water truck, Greyson Hunt broke out into a dead sprint and dove into the traffic snarl in search of the source of the screams. Ignoring Glenn and Shane's cries of protest from behind him, Greyson harshly collided with one car and pushed off another. Never stopping in his chase, Greyson only finally came to a halt after rounding an abandoned pickup truck. His stomach twisted into painful knots as he came across the sight of Lori Grimes holding a sobbing, hysterical Carol Peletier within her arms.
"T-There's two w-walkers after my b-baby!" The woman wailed.
"Which way did she go?" Greyson demanded, panting hard.
"Into the woods," Lori answered grimly. "Rick went after her."
Lori pointed off in the direction that her husband had went in and Greyson turned his head. Staring into the dark, thick trees on the side of freeway, Greyson's face fell in horror. Off the side of the highway there was a steep ravine that led deep into the woods where unspeakable dangers undeniably awaited. Greyson could not even imagine Sophia, a little girl of only twelve years, off in the woods alone with two walkers in pursuit.
Hearing more footsteps approach from over his shoulder, Greyson turned and did an immediate double-take at the sight of Andrea Harrison. Her entire face and neck were slick with fresh blood. "What the hell happened to you?" He questioned, alarmed.
Andrea was still holding a bloody screwdriver and twirled it between her sticky fingers. "A walker happened," She muttered. As Dale approached beside her, she sent him a harsh sideways glance. "I handled it."
Greyson let out a breath, relieved to know that none of the blood was hers, and then looked back towards the ominous trees. "I'm going to get find them," Greyson decided, swinging his rifle back into his arms. They were still slightly trembling.
"Like hell you are." At the harsh retort, Greyson rolled his eyes at the sight of Daryl Dixon stalking over towards him, a stern grimace on his irritable features. "We don't need anyone else gettin' lost in the woods."
Behind Daryl was none other than T-Dog, and he, too, was soaked in fresh blood. Greyson silently noticed that by the way the blood continued to drip from T-Dog's arm and onto the asphalt, he knew that it was his. Shortly after learning that he had been cut by jagged metal—and, thankfully, not a walker bite—Dale took him off to the side to get a better look and a proper bandage.
Greyson abruptly turned back to Daryl, his eyes narrowed. "I know how to handle myself."
"Sure you do, kid," Daryl scoffed.
The crossbow-wielding redneck then brushed past Greyson and, without another word, slid down the steep ravine, all the while easily avoiding brushes and sticks as he did so. Greyson quickly followed after him, ignoring the warnings and protests that suggested he do otherwise, and, after brief reluctance, Shane and Glenn followed after the two men as well.
Leaving the chaos of the highway behind, Greyson was almost relieved by the silence that now held him in the trees. He could breathe easier in the woods. He could focus better, too, which was how he noticed how cleverly Daryl was able to hold himself. The older hunter moved without a sound, his dark, blue eyes scanning the ground in search of footsteps, and while Greyson was doing the same exact thing, he was much more discreet about his actions than Daryl was. To an outsider—to Glenn and Shane, evenGreyson could have been taking a walk in the park.
God, how he wished he was just taking a walk in the park.
Suddenly, there was an abrupt rustle within the trees to the small group's north and Greyson froze, raising his gun up as Daryl did the same with his crossbow. Shane and Glenn were stopped right behind them, their own weapons raised, each and every one of them ready to fire at a moment's notice.
"Don't shoot."
The newfound order came from the trees in front of them and Greyson instantly recognized the voice as Rick's. Sighing in relief as their leader stepped out of the trees, Greyson lowered his gun to take in his very dirty and bloody appearance. While Rick's face was clad with mud, his jeans were soaked and his once white shirt now appeared to be more of sickly brownish yellow.
"Where's Sophia?" Greyson asked, concerned.
Greyson hastily peered over Rick's shoulder, expecting the small child to have hidden behind him for safety, but she was nowhere to be seen. Knots slowly and painfully began to form in the young man's stomach as he turned back to Rick for a proper explanation. The leader that stood before him no longer looked like a leader at all. Standing before his closest allies, Rick Grimes was at a loss for words, constantly opening and closing his mouth as he tried to search for the proper thing to say. Finally, after a long, agonizing minute, Rick spoke, but it was definitely not what any of them wanted to hear. "She's gone."
In the moments that followed, it felt as if the wind had been knocked from Greyson's fragile lungs and he was sick to his stomach. Hearing about adults being killed was hard, but the death of a child was unimaginable to him. Sophia? No. How could that possibly be? It was Sophia. Their Sophia. She . . . She . . . Greyson exhaled a shaky breath. Sophia was just a little girl who had done what any little girl would have done when afraid. In the face of two walkers, she would have run. Now, because of that natural instinct, she was gone.
Shane Walsh cleared his throat, pulling Greyson back from the dark thoughts of his own mind. "What happened, man?" He asked in distress.
Rick could not look at any of them as he spoke. "I told her to hide," He explained. "I told her I would lead the walkers away . . . And when I came back, she was gone."
"Wait." Greyson froze, his eyes squinting shut, holding onto a small silver lining that, perhaps, only he could see. "You . . . You . . . Rick, you mean she disappeared?" He clarified, a dying hopeful unwittingly returning to Greyson's shaken tone. "That she's still alive?"
Rick Grimes nodded, his chest still heaving as he attempted to gather his breath. "She just ran," He murmured.
"Well, where?" Daryl snapped. At this newfound information, like Greyson, Daryl was now clearly getting annoyed with all the delaying of time, too.
Instead of responding, knowing it would be futile to explain in such a dense forest, Rick turned swiftly on his heel and motioned for the group to follow and they did as such without hesitation. Keeping his guard up for walkers as they walked, Greyson almost did not notice the fact that there was a drop-off in the path and he surely would have fallen right down if it had not been for Glenn who had grabbed Greyson by the back of his shirt and yanked him backwards. With a brief thanks, Greyson hastily regained his startled composure and quickly followed Rick down into a muddy swamp.
"Are you sure this is the spot?" Shane asked uncertainly.
Rick nodded. "I left her here and drew the walkers way off in that direction up the creek," He informed.
"Why the hell would you hide her here?" Daryl grumbled, tromping through the water. "This place is enough to make any girl afraid."
"I did what I thought would keep her alive," Rick argued, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can you find any tracks?"
The water felt cold against Greyson's shins as he waded deeper into the swamp and he shivered, looking down into the little, haphazard mess of sticks that had once concealed Sophia Peletier. Greyson could only assume that before it was a hiding place for children, it was the failed attempt of some beavers trying to make a home. The space was tiny, but Greyson had no doubt that someone as little as Sophia could have fit. What Greyson could not figure out was what had drove Sophia to leave. Had it been willingly or without a choice?
Only a short while later, Greyson found a small set of footsteps within a patch of mud, leading out of the swamp. He waved a hand, drawing the attention of the other men around him. "Over here," Greyson announced.
Rick sighed in relief. "I told her to go that way," He added. "Keep the sun on her left shoulder."
"The kid's tired and scared, Rick. She had her a close call with two walkers," Shane pointed out. "You've got to wonder how much of what you said actually stuck."
"Doesn't matter. Sophia was able to do what she was told when she left," Greyson retorted. "I've got tracks clear as day right here. They head back to the highway. Maybe we just missed her on our way down here."
"She couldn't have gone far," Glenn assured. "We'll find her."
One-by-one, the men scampered back out of the water and onto dry land until it was only Greyson who remained. Glenn held a hand out to his friend and the latter gripped it tightly, allowing himself to be pulled up. Back on solid land, Greyson cringed. He hated the feeling of wet socks and shoes, and he clenched his jaw tight, forcing himself to focus primarily on walking, leaving the hope that he might dry off soon to the back burner of his mind.
Allowing Daryl to take the lead, Greyson still followed close behind to make sure that the tracks did not veer off or take any sudden turns. Suddenly, Daryl stopped and sunk down to his knees, nearly causing the younger boy to trip over him. "She was doin' just fine til' right here," Daryl reported. "All she had to do was keep going but her tracks curve."
"Why would she do that?" Glenn wondered.
"Maybe she saw something that spooked her, made her run off," Shane suggested. "Like a walker?"
"There aren't any other footprints," Greyson informed with a shake of his head. "Just hers."
"So what do we do?" Shane pressed. "Keep going? Get further and further away from those on the highway?"
"No, it's better if you take Glenn and Grey back up," Rick decided. "People are going to start panicking. You three need to keep the calm. Let everyone know we're on her trail and doin' everything we can."
Shane nodded in understanding. "I'll keep 'em busy scavenging cars," He consoled, but then spared a glance at Greyson before looking back to Rick. "Are you sure you don't need Grey? He's a tracker."
"So am I," Daryl muttered, eyeing his competition in annoyance. "And we don't need two out here."
Clicking his tongue, Greyson rolled his eyes and moved to stand beside Glenn. The three older men spoke a few more words and as Rick and Daryl went in one direction, Shane then took off into the opposing trees, not bothering to check and make sure if Greyson and Glenn were following after him.
"Some guy," Greyson muttered.
"Shut up," Glenn whispered back.
"Or what?"
"Or he'll hear you."
Greyson held his tongue the remainder of the trek. When the three of them made it back to the highway, Greyson was not surprised to find himself being ambushed by Carol. Her face was streaked with fresh tears and her hand rested tightly against her chest, so close that she could practically touch her own heart. "What's happening out there?" She demanded. "Where's my daughter?"
Knowing he was not the stand-in leader, Greyson immediately took a step back to put some distance between himself and the devastated woman, and allowed promptly Shane to take charge. "Rick and Daryl are on her trail," He informed. "They're close. They're going to find her."
But Carol Peletier was a difficult mother to convince—not that Greyson blamed her—and despite the several reassurances from numerous group members, the woman refused to move from her place beside the roadway railing. So, the others finally moved on to better things to occupy their time. Most continued to scavenge for supplies, others tried moving vehicles to make a bigger path for the RV, and Greyson remained on lookout, sitting along the edge of the RV's roof.
"You see anything up there?"
Greyson slowly turned at the sound of Andrea's voice and shook his head, staring down at the blonde woman. She had cleaned up since he last saw her, but dried walker blood still clung to her shirt. "No," He answered. "Nothing like this afternoon, at least."
Andrea shivered as she remembered her earlier encounter. "Jesus, I'm still freaked out from that herd that passed us by," She grumbled. "Or . . . whatever the hell you'd call it."
"Yeah, what was that?" Glenn wondered from the doorway of the RV. "All of them just marching along like that?"
"Herd." The word rolled off of Greyson's tongue. "That sounds about right. It's not the first time we've seen it, though. It's like the night camp got attacked. A wandering pack, only fewer—and no one got killed this time."
Andrea tensed at the mention of their former camp and swallowed tightly. "Yeah," She agreed bitterly.
Greyson clenched his eyes shut and immediately cursed himself at the realization of what he had unintentionally done by bringing back the unwanted memories of Amy to Andrea. Looking down at her, watching her composure crack and crumble before his very eyes, Greyson felt overcome with guilt and bit his tongue, hard. "Andrea, I didn't mean—"
"I know," She interrupted him, her voice eerily cold. "It's okay."
Without another word, Andrea Harrison hastily walked off, leaving Greyson and Glenn alone in the middle of the road. And then, instead of being the good friend that Glenn was supposed to be, he, too, simply turned and walked away as well, leaving Greyson to his own miserable, guilt-filled thoughts.
"Slash! Cha! Cha! Boom!"
"The hell?" Frowning at the sound, Greyson shifted to the other side of the RV and looked down, his eyes widening on the sight of young Carl Grimes standing alone, holding a black hatchet. The blade gleamed in the burning sun as he playfully swung it around, and Greyson could not help but chuckle. "What're you doing there?" He called out to the boy.
Carl froze and looked up in alarm, gasping when he realized he was not alone. "It's not mine," He assured Greyson, his cheeks growing red. "I'm going to go put it back."
The boy abruptly turned to leave and Greyson continued to laugh, watching his silly attempt at an escape. They both knew that Carl was not actually going to go put the hatchet back. "You don't have to," Greyson finally reassured, watching as the boy froze again at his words. "I'm not going to tell anyone."
Carl turned around slowly, eyeing Greyson cautiously. "Why not?" He asked.
"Why would I?"
"Because my mom says I'm not allowed to have a weapon," He explained, taking a step forward. "And everyone always tells on me."
Greyson grinned. "You won't catch me doing such a thing," He promised. "That's what friends are for, right?"
"We're friends?" Carl questioned.
"Everyone is my friend," Greyson announced, and then faked being hurt. "Do you not want to be my friend?"
Carl instantly shook his head. "No! Of course not," He assured the older boy. "It's just . . . adults don't usually want to be my friend."
"Why?"
"Because I'm only a kid."
Greyson scoffed, smirking playfully down at the twelve-year-old. "I'm a kid," He insisted, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, in the eyes of Daryl, and your dad, and Shane, apparently. I'm only twenty-two, you know."
"Well, I'm only twelve," Carl grumbled, continuously taking steps forward as he spoke until he was right next to the RV, looking up at Greyson. "So, I really am a kid."
"Between you and me, I don't really think age means that much anymore . . . Not that it really meant that much to me before the world ended, anyways," Greyson told him earnestly. "We're the same, Carl. You, me, there's no difference."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" He wondered.
"You tell me," Greyson challenged. In the silence between them, Carl could only stare intently at Greyson, the hatchet in his tiny, chubby palm completely forgotten as he absorbed the older boy's words like a sponge. Greyson admired Carl's desire to be treated as more than his age would give him. Greyson felt the same about his own age, too. According to his own interpretations of the group, Greyson could really amount to nothing more than an extra pair of hands.
Looking down at the young Grimes boy, Greyson felt sorry that he had not attempted to connect with Carl sooner. Opening his mouth to invite Carl up to join him on the roof, any thought of conversation was pulled hastily from his mind as Greyson suddenly heard what sounded like sobbing from somewhere behind him. Without a word, Greyson hopped off the side of the RV, using a nearby car to break his fall. Back on solid ground, Greyson stood up straighter and placed a careful hand between Carl's shoulders, pushing the boy behind him. "Stay close, Squirt," He ordered.
The sun was beginning to set on the highway as Greyson and Carl made their way towards the sound of crying. Realizing that the sobbing was coming from Carol, Greyson's eyes widened on the sight of Rick and Daryl's long-awaited return, the two men climbing back over the highway railing, looking tired and distraught. Beyond them, young Sophia Peletier nowhere to be seen.
"You didn't find her?" Carol whimpered.
Rick swallowed uncomfortably. "Her trail went cold," He announced, loud enough that everyone could hear him. "We'll pick it up again at first light."
"You can't leave my daughter out there on her own to spent the night alone in the woods!" The short-haired woman cried.
"Bein' out in the dark's no good," Daryl tried to reason with her. "We'd just be trippin' over ourselves. More people'd get lost."
"But she's only twelve," Carol protested feebly, tears making their way down her cheeks again. "She can't be out there on her own." She took a deep breath. "You really didn't find anything? No tracks at all?"
"Look, I know this is hard," Rick comforted. "but I'm asking you not to panic. We know she was out there and we tracked her for a while, but we have to make this an organized effort. Daryl and Greyson know the woods better than anybody. They'll oversee what happens . . ."
"Is that blood?" Carol gasped, staring down at Daryl's jeans.
"We took down a walker," Rick clarified, being quick to explain himself as her breathing grew rapider. "But there was no sign that it was ever anywhere near Sophia. We cut it open just to make sure."
At that point, Carol looked very sick and appeared to be on the verge of passing out. Lowering herself down onto the highway railing, she took a deep breath and suddenly turned to Rick with a snarl, "How could you just leave her out there to begin with?" She demanded. "How could you just leave her?"
"Those walkers that were chasing her were on us," Rick explained softly, his voice trembling. "I had to draw them off. It was her best chance. I didn't want her being in danger."
"And look at her now," Carol sneered coldly. "How is she supposed to find her way back on her own? She's just a child . . . She's just a child!"
"It was my only option," Their leader insisted shamefully. "The only choice I could make."
Carol continued to wipe at her tears with trembling hands, no longer caring to hear any excuse that Rick might have had to offer her. "My little girl got left in the woods," She sobbed. "My baby . . . My Sophia."
Greyson held his tongue as all members of the group stared down at the woman in silence, unsure of what to say to make her feel better. After all, there truly was nothing to say. There was no way to make this better. Her child was out there in the walker-filled woods with no one to protect her. How could anyone try and sympathize with that?
Clearly, Rick could not. Unable to handle the guilt of his failure, the man turned away from the sobbing woman and took off down the highway with his hands on the back of his head.
And even though Greyson could not see Rick's face, he knew that his leader was crying, that his leader was breaking. For a short while longer, Greyson Hunt watched in silence as Rick Grimes went onward down the dead highway, a dark silhouette against the burning sun. Finally, he then rounded an abandoned vehicle and vanished from sight, leaving the remaining group all alone to contend with their thoughts in the dark, long night that would surely roll on ahead.
~~~~~~~~~~
wow, greyson is just trying his best and looking back on carol's freakout on rick, i feel so bad for rick. he's breaking and the group just expects so much from him. rick did not ask to be leader and that's why he'll always be my favorite character. i can watch rick grimes' development any day... anyways, don't mind my rambling. i hope you're all enjoying this story as much as i am enjoying writing it! so what do you think of greyson so far?
i appreciate all feedback comments and votes! thank you!
edited.