Author's note:

Because I feel extremely bad for the fact Carl has very few friends he can relate to in the way that normal children could before the Zombie apocalypse, I decided to imagine a situation in which he would meet someone who could potentially become his friend.

I am not sure whether to continue this or not, but here it is. I will not make this a one shot yet until I am absolutely certain it is not to be continued.

Thank you for taking the time to read this- I appreciate that it is very short and any further entries should they be introduced, will be substantially longer.

Enjoy :)

Eileen crept through the house, knife on hand, trying desperately to not be heard by whatever was lurking upstairs.

Slowly, she ascended the staircase being careful not to stumble. It didn't matter who it was, so long as she looted and booted out of there.

It was a fairly substantial American household: large staircase with a banister; smothered with contemporary family photography; and beige walls. A home, but definitely not a house- it was far to orderly and bare to be welcoming, but it's emptiness was more than inviting given that there might be food or useful items about.

She reached a bathroom and quietly switched on the sink tap, her hopes of anything entirely low. That was of course, until a limited trickle descended from the metal that she swept up hurriedly and splashed against her sweating and blistering skin. Smartly, she opened the cupboard above the sink and found a bottle of after sun, which she generously lathered about her arms, face, ears and neck.

Crippling her very soul, she heard a creak drawing nearer from the furthest bedroom. Briskly, she grabbed her satchel from between her legs and made a break towards the lone member of company. Much like a spy from her beloved movies before this disaster, she slid across the wall before the furthest bedroom. She didn't have time to think about its interior before she expertly launched her knife at the person dwelling in the room. It was definitely a male, she was sure; and quite young too, but she refused to befriend anyone straight away. Trust was a rarity that was best kept restricted only for those who are truly loyal. This person however was clearly competition that she had to deter from further movement.

The knife landed exactly where she needed it to- piercing the wall half a metre away from the boy. Approximately her age, he was rather small with a lanky build and a striking sheriff's hat. He looked startled, but for the most part impassive. Equally quickly he drew and brandished a gun, to which she responded with the same action.

"Put- put your weapon down!" Eileen harshly whispered trying to assert dominance that which she was lacking. She might have been more intimidating had she been used to addressing potentially threatening not un-dead people.

He made a noise, something oh-so similar to a half-hearted snort. "You first," he sneered. "I was here first, so put your gun down, or so help me I will shoot you,"

"How do you know that I want to hurt you?"

"Because you…you threw a knife at me!"

Eileen lowered her gun and delivered a patronising glare. "That's what I wanted you to believe-"

"How do I know you're not just saying that to mess with me? Maybe you just missed me!" He stepped closer, the gun end even closer to her petite nose.

"Hmmm…well I have more weapons than you!"

He stopped for thought.

Sadly, they were both about the same age and therefore were very inexperienced in addressing people similar to themselves. Frankly, their approach to one another was proving abysmal thus far.

"Perhaps you do, but what about more loot?"

Her bag was small enough, and only half filled. His was a backpack, barely closed. A good point indeed. "What about muscle power?" She began. "I clearly run a lot more than you!"

"Yeah but…you're on your own?" She remained impassive with a minimal shake of the head, which he interpreted correctly as a yes. "I have a group. They'd negotiate with you if you were to meet them…"

"What if I don't want to?"

"What if I make you?" He snapped. He's very quick, I must say. Stay cautious though…he looks like he's prepared to skin a lion alive if that's what it takes.

"…What if…I stop you-?"

"-What if I disarm you?"

"…What if I leave before you can do anything?"

Silence.

Weapons were lowered back into pockets.

The boy put his hands in his pockets and shied away beneath his hat. "Your name?"

"Yours first!" Eileen countered, stubbornly.

"Fine," he grunted. "…It's Carl." It became apparent that he was too weak to argue, and followed the smallest instinct her found telling him to at least try- it was first person he'd met his age in years.

Following this, Eileen strolled quickly over to the wall, and ripped the blade from it. Carl reached for his gun again, only to change his mind when instead of stabbing him, she put it in her satchel. "I am Eileen."

"Good," Stupid idiot! What kind of response is good? …She's clever, so say something clever back! You cannot let yourself be undermined by an intelligent person…they can trick you far too easily. She doesn't seem entirely confident though… if she tries to pull anything, I'll end her. I'll end her before she can blink.

"Yes," she sighed sadly. "I suppose that it is. I'm fifteen, by the way. I figured that it was information that you'd want to know."

"…I'm sixteen." Carl said. He whispered the last part. "I hate this existence."

The sun was setting outside, the house therefore darkening. She spoke carefully in reply. "My thoughts exactly…Carl." She tried what could be called a smile, and looked down at her feet unsure of what action to take next.