I didn't even think about making this one two parts until I was in the middle of writing it. Then I thought, 'this is gonna need more than one part'.
Word Count (including bold text): 1971
"With the threat of the Governor," Rick shouts out to the group. "Everyone's gonna have to learn how to protect yourself. This means, starting tomorrow, we will set up groups and a... an 'instructor', will show you how to use the weapon. They'll show you the ropes. Each day will be split in half for everyone. Half of you will go into training in the morning, the other half in the afternoon."
"An instructor?" I say to Patrick after Rick's speech as we walk back to the garden we were taking care of. "It's the end of the world and we have instructors?"
"Y/N, I don't think he meant it like that. What else would you call them?"
"I mean, 'someone to teach you' would work better than 'instructor'," I say.
"The use of 'instructor' pained Rick, too. I don't think he wanted to say it but it was the first thing that came to him."
"Yeah, I guess you're right." I grab a watering can and start pouring the water on the plants. This garden will need a fuck ton of water. "What kind of weapons do you think he was talking about? Nearly all of us can use a gun."
"Maybe he meant like... knives, or axes. You know, melee weapons. Combat shit."
"Great. The Governor is gonna shoot us from 50 feet away and he expects us to stab him from that distance?"
"Y/N, it's just for extra safety. If he or someone else captures you, boom, stab, done. You can throw knives and axes, too!" Patrick responds.
We finish up with the garden for the day and head back up to the prison. It's dinner, so I head to the main area with Patrick to get some food. As soon as I walk into the main area I'm stopped by Carl standing next to a table. The rest of the area is empty except for Glenn and Rick. We're the first ones done, I guess.
"Did you sign up?" Carl asks us.
"Pardon?" I say.
"Did you sign up?" This time he points at the table next to him which carries a paper and a pen. The paper has a list of names, A.M. and P.M., and each name has some empty lines next to it where other names would go.
"What's this?" I ask.
"The training tomorrow. And the training that will continue. Choose an instructor under morning or evening, then write your name in one of the spaces."
"I know how it works, Carl. But I don't care, I'm starving." I start to walk past him but he holds his arm out so I can't continue.
"Seriously? I'm not signing up for this dumb training! I already know how to defend myself!" I argue.
"It's required if you want to eat," Carl says.
Patrick puts a hand on my shoulder. "Y/N, just sign up and then we can eat."
I will not give Carl the satisfaction of him being the leader's son, so I continue to refuse. "No. I'm not signing up, I'm going to eat."
I start to walk away when I hear Carl mutter, "I'll just sign you up then."
"I don't give a shit," I spit back. I'll check it later. I grab my food and sit against the wall with Patrick next to me. "I bet he put me in the morning with Carol. He knows I don't like her," I say with a mouthful of food. "Did you sign up?"
"I just told him to put me wherever you're going."
I nod and take a sip of water. At this point more and more people are starting to trickle in, each of them signing up for a different spot. "He's definitely putting us with Carol. Or Daryl. I like Daryl but sometimes he scares me." Patrick nods in agreement. "List was empty. No names since no one is here yet. That means he can really fuck with us; put us where we don't want to go..."
"Or he can separate us," Patrick suggests.
I forgot about that. "He better not. If he does we're going to the sessions together anyway, so good luck with that, Carl."
"Good luck with what?" I look up and see Carl hovering over me.
"Making us your bitch," I say without missing a beat. Patrick hits me on the arm but I have no regrets.
"I was just coming to tell you I signed you up for the morning. Every Tuesday and Thursday. I'll see you two in the courtyard at seven A.M.," Carl says as he walks away.
"Carl's in our group, too?" I whine to Patrick.
Patrick freezes and shakes his head slightly. "Y/N, Carl's an instructor."
I quickly shake my head. "No, no, no, no! Patrick we have to go!" I dump my empty plate into the trashcan and Patrick does the same. "We have to switch groups. It could be Carol, I don't care at this point. I don't want to embarrass myself in front of him, Patrick!" We rush over to the table and I look at the paper in horror. "Everything is taken. Patrick, no! Let's switch names with someone..."
"No! They're going to show up for their time and everything would be a mess. Just deal with it. You have like twelve hours to mentally prepare yourself. I mean, at least he stuck us together."
Patrick was right. I'd rather be with him with Carl than without him with Carol. I sigh. "Let's just head back to our cells. See you in the morning?"
"Yeah, see you in the morning."
I head off to my cell and plop down in bed. Why does the apocalypse have to suck even more than it already does?
I woke up to Patrick shaking me. "Get up, Y/N! Why do I always have to wake you up?"
I open my eyes and yawn. "What time is it?"
"Like six-fifty. Get your shit on and let's go. Grab your knives," Patrick says as he rushes out of my cell.
How does Patrick know I need my knives? I get ready and meet up with Patrick to ask him that same question. "Did it say it on the paper or something?"
"Rick told us yesterday in his speech. Weren't you listening?"
"To some of it."
We get to the courtyard and there are already some people set up at different targets, waiting for instruction and inspecting their knives. Carl walks up to us.
"You made it, great. Pat, you can take that target over there," he points to one on the far end. "Y/N, take the one next to him."
I notice that those are the only two open and I roll my eyes. "Thanks, Carl. I was just about to go take over Beth's target when there are two empty ones left."
"Watch the attitude," he warns.
"What, you'll kick me out of your group if I don't? By all means, go for it," I snap back.
Carl gets in my face but I don't move. "Y/N, there are five hours between the time this group gets out and the next one starts. You know what I have to do in that time? Nothing. You know where your ass would be? Here. Until you learn your lesson."
"'Until I learn my less-' Carl get the fuck over yourself," I say to him turning around to get to my target.
"Five hours, Y/N," Carl reminds me as I'm walking away. "Okay, we're going to start training..." Carl shouts to the group but I'm zoned out, again.
I don't know why we even need this. I feel like we're being trained as inferiors. I've survived this far without needing 'special training', this is bullshit. Like honestly I-
"Y/N," Patrick whispers to me.
I turn my head towards him. "What?" Patrick nods his head in Carl's direction and I focus my attention on him. The group is awfully quiet as Carl stares at me.
"So?" Carl asks.
I'm confused, so I don't say anything thinking he will explain more. He doesn't. "What?" I ask Carl.
"Were you even listening to me? This is important- this could be life and death! You can't assume that you will never get into situations like these!" Carl starts yelling. If it weren't Carl I would be intimidated. "What is the name of the knife we are using, Y/N?"
"I'm pretty sure knowing the name of the knife is not life and death. Is the Governor going to give me an actual sudden death quiz about knives?" I say sarcastically.
"You're owing me that time," Carl says.
The hell I am, I think.
"Clip point," Carl finally says. "It's a clip point throwing knife."
"And that was that important?" I whisper to Patrick.
"Shut up," he whispers back.
After a few more minutes of talking about how to throw the knife, Carl lets us loose to practice on our targets. I let Carl get distracted by someone else before I try to throw mine. Patrick throws his which distracts me. "Damn, Pat! Look at that!" The knife almost hit the center. Patrick smiles. I bend my arm back, holding the handle of the knife, trying to aim. I'm almost about to throw it when I feel a hand on the arm I'm bending and one on my waist trying to fix my position.
"Throw it like this," Carl's voice says softly in my ear.
I yank away from him. "I don't need your damn help, I can do it myself."
"No, if you do it yourself like that you'll get-"
"I can do it!" I insist. Carl throws his hands in the air in defense and lets me get back to what I was doing. I can feel his eyes burning into me as I prepare to throw the knife again. As soon as I whip my arm forward to throw the knife I feel a hot pain on the side of my cheek. I wince but try to see where the knife landed. It was nowhere near the target. My face turned red and I was thankful the only people who saw were Patrick and Carl. I touch my cheek and feel warm liquid on my fingers, which I then pull away from my face to see red blood all over them. My mouth opens slightly in shock and I'm so angry at myself that I let Carl see that.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Carl strolling towards me with his arms crossed. I'm still in shock so I just turn around towards him. Carl comes close to me and bring his hand up to my cheek, wiping away some of the blood with his thumb along the cut. I use the end of my shirt to wipe the remaining blood away.
"Let me have it," Carl demands quietly, outstretching his hand. I give him one of my knives and he holds my shoulders to spin me around and position me correctly. At this point I'm too defeated to do anything about it. Carl holds my waist again to slightly adjust my posture and moves my arm in the correct way so I don't cut my face again. "Go on," he says.
I hesitate but then throw the knife to the best of my ability. To my surprise, it hits just outside of the center. My face lights up but I quickly hide it so Carl doesn't see. I just stand there until I hear Carl's footsteps continue down the line.
Part two is coming next! Tomorrow, most likely. :)