Rick held up a hand behind himself, signaling for the party behind him to remain still and quiet. The small group of eight was crouching, leavening their backs against a two story modern home that looked generally abandoned, which meant dangerous. Rick stuck his head around the house to check if the coast was clear around the front porch, which was futile. If anything living or not was on the front porch, it would have noticed or heard the huge fire truck approaching and the police patrol car following close behind it. The group was to check out every room of the home, and the surrounding perimeter for trap doors or doors to basements. The group consisted of Glenn, Michonne, Rick, Daryl, Tyreese, Abraham, Rosita, and Carol. Rick made a simple wave with his hands, and he, Michonne, Daryl, Glenn, and Carol proceeded to the front porch, while the other three remained outside to keep watch and scan the perimeter.

Rick stood on the front porch in front of the front door, and tested to see if it was locked. It was. Carol stepped forward silently and Rick held up three fingers, counting down. Three…two….one..Carol lifted her foot and kicked out at the locked door, causing the frame to crack and splinter, making the door swing in violently. As soon as the door swung open, Carol's gun was up, her wrists crossed to hold up her solar powered flashlight also. After scanning the immediate area, Carol put her pistol back in its holster. "Living rooms clear." The woman said, and the rest of the smaller party followed her in, breaking off to search different areas.

xxx

A half mile away from the house, Carl leaned against the patrol car, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his father and the others walk into the home. While they were checking out the possible temporary shelter, Carl was punished to babysit, literally. His father had left him to watch Judith, who he had simply put in the passenger seat and let her play around with the keys, and then he had locked the doors to make sure she didn't accidentally climb out or anything. Tara was in the fire truck with Maggie, trying to talk her out of the dark depression she had slipped into after Beth's death. It had hit everyone pretty hard, especially her and Daryl, but Maggie was the only one who didn't seem to be getting any better. Sasha was on top of the fire truck with a hunting rifle, cleaning it to occupy her time. As for the new recruit, Noah, he was taking a nap on the roof, hugging the ax from the fire truck he had decided to arm himself with instead of a gun.

"No need to pout dude, they had enough people already anyway." Noah said, hopping off the top of the patrol care, subsequently causing it to shake.

Carl turned away from the older boy, not replying to his prodding. Sure, he knew that his dad, Michone, and Daryl were enough on their own, let alone everyone else, but that didn't stop him from feeling like his dad didn't trust him enough to follow him inside. After all this time, Rick was still treating Carl like his perfect little boy that he had to protect.

Carl took in a deep breath, and then let it out in an angsty sigh as Noah sat Indian style next to him, laying his ax across his lap. Noah looked up at Carl, who was making a point at not looking down at him.

"So how old are you anyway? Like, ten? Five?"

Carl finally looked down at Noah, giving him a scrutinizing look. "What do you want?"

Noah shrugged, "Im just trying to fill this awkward silence with conversation."

"Yeah, well stop."

At that, Noah did stop talking. The darker of the two boys stood up and proceeded to swing his ax at the air, as if he was attacking a group of walkers. His down swipe was shaky and the ax fell from his hands and clattered to the ground, almost taking half of his foot with it. The ax stopped right next to Carl.

Carl scoffed, "Smart move, Samurai Jackass. Remind me to stay away from you if we got attacked." Carl went to bend down to pick the ax up and then handed it to Noah. "Why did you choose that thing anyway? We have more guns, and you're not strong enough to do anything with it. Best case scenario, you swing and it gets lodged in a walkers head, and then you're dead."

Noah looked down at his choice of weapon and shrugged, "'I've never been a big fan of guns, and plus, you have to admit that this thing is cool." The corner of Noah's mouth turned up ever so slightly, forming a smirk.

"Whatever" Carl replied with indifference, proceeding to ignore the other guy again.

Noah looked Carl up and down, and pressed his lips into a small line. "You don't like me very much, do you?"

To this, Carl simply shrugged as if he wasn't listening anyway, but he was. Noah wasn't too off with this assumption; it wasn't that Carl didn't like him, it was more so that Carl hated him being here. He was one more person for the group to take care of, one more liability, one more death to cry over when he dies just like that damn

Carls thoughts were interrupted with a shrill noise blasting from behind him like the sound of a thousand dying cats. Carl and Noah both shot their hands up to cover their ears; Noah dropping the ax, and then turned to the car to see what the problem was.

Judith had turned on the siren, and it was blasting for everyone in a thousand mile radius to hear.

Carl lunged for the passenger door, but found it locked. He then started feeling around his more than worn jeans for the keys, when the realization dawned upon him. "Shit Shit Shit" The young boy muttered.

Noah walked up behind Carl, having to scream loudly to be heard over the blasting siren, his face lighting up blue and red with the flashing of the lights. "DUDE OPEN THE DOOR!"

"ITS LOCKED!"

"THEN USE THE KEYS!"

"I CANT!"

"WHY NOT?"

"BECAUSE JUDITH HAS THEM!"

Noah didn't reply then, but looked at Carl with a look of horror mixed with amusement. Carls face with simply sheer horror. This would surely attract walkers, and this is another thing for his dad to hate him for

…..great.

Reviews are much appreciated, first attempt at writing in a while v.v