"Carl, honey hold my hand," Lori said and gestured for her eleven-year-old son to come over.
Carl looked up from the small bug that he was looking at on the sidewalk, He wriggled so his school bag didn't fall off his little back and ran over to Lori. He looked at her hand and then rolled his eyes.
"Mom, I don't need to hold your hand, I'm not little anymore," He said with his big blue eyes and stared into Lori's.
Her heart melted at the statement and grinned at her child. No matter how old he is, he will always be her little boy.
Lori chuckled and pretended to frown, "You're not embarrassed to hold my hand are you ?".
"Yes" He replied sheepishly and Lori laughed.
They continued to walk side by side down the sidewalk and on their way to the school. Lori occasionally looked down to check on Carl.
She's going to miss walking him to school. It's always the highlight of her day, but when he grows up he's not going to want her with him anymore, he won't need her.
Another one of her favorite things is to wake up in the morning, most people always moan about it, but she loves it. She loves Waking up with Ricks' arms around her, even though they are going through a rough patch at the moment. She loves making herself a morning coffee, then walking into Carl's room and seeing his little face wrapped in a bundle of spiderman bed sheets.
After another five minutes of walking and Carl explaining how the Star Wars is better than Star Trek, they arrive in the School parking lot.
Lori looked up and spotted Kristen waving to her with her daughter, Ava, holding her hand. Rick likes teasing Carl about his little crush on Ava, he always goes bright red when he sees her.
"Hey Kristen, How are you doing ?"Lori asked, and smiled at her friend, Carl gave a small, shy wave and Ava beamed at him. Her little, rosy cheeks brightened.
"Carl, why don't you head to school now ?" She said and ran her hand through his soft, brown hair. "Don't forget that your dad's going to be picking you up," She said and bent down to give Carl his water bottle. He took it from her hand and smiled.
"Bye mom" He waved and turned around to walk over to his friends outside the school entrance.
"Ava, why don't you go up and catch up to him ?"Kristen asked and bent down to give her daughter a hug and kiss on the cheek. Ave adjusted her blonde pigtails and ran to catch up to Carl who is talking excitedly to one of his friends.
"How are you and Rick doing? Are you still having problems ?"Kristen asked, looking concerned.
Lori sighed. "We're okay, I guess we could be worse, I just wish that he wouldn't put his job in front of spending time with Carl, he said that he would finally pick Carl up today, but this will be the first time in months" She moaned. But deep inside she knows that it's not Ricks fault, she knows that he wants to spend time with Carl.
Kristen shrugged and smiled softly, "But he still loves you both, he's probably just got a lot of work at the moment".
"Yeah, I guess you're right".
Suddenly, a loud screech of tires interrupted them both. A loud horn went off.
Lori jumped out of her skin, fear and shock prickling through her bones. She looked up just in time to see a car slam into something small.
The figure crashed to the ground, the impact of the car hitting them so hard that they rolled over the bonnet and landed on the ground with a painful 'smack'.
Lori's eyes widened in fear as she noticed the tiny figure was wearing a very familiar batman T-Shirt.
That's when she screamed.
Her scream was filled with pain and shock. A scream so loud that it could send chills through anyone's body, a scream filled with heartbreak.
Her hands covered her mouth and she ran.
This can't be happening, not to Carl, not to her baby.
Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she collapsed to the ground next to her boy. His tiny arm bent in funny angle, blood trickled from his head, cuts, and dirt covered his body. His eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly open.
"No !" She cried. Refusing to believe that this was happening.
"Carl, sweetie wake up !"She screamed, choking on her sobs as she screamed for her injured child.
Children around her screamed and cried as frantic mothers and teachers called for ambulances.
"Please! Someone help !"She cried and gently pulled Carl's bloody head onto her shaking lap. She gently stroked his messy hair.
Sobs and screams raked her body as her heart slipped into the dark abyss.
What if he's dead? What if her boy never wakes up?
The world without her baby is a world that she doesn't ever want to live in. She frantically checked for a pulse. She can't feel anything. She cried out louder, not caring at what she looks like. Suddenly, her fingers feel a tiny pulse, she gasped out in relief and thanked god.
Sweat and tears dripped from her pale face, her hair stuck to her skin and clumped together.
"My baby! My boy !"She screamed, she felt Kristen come up behind her and place her hands on her shoulders, but all she could do was look at the pale face of her broken baby boy.
The stars hung in the sky like fruit hanging from a withered tree, Carl's boots splashed in the murky puddles as he walked slowly across the abandoned railway line. His left hand hovered over his desert eagle that was strapped firmly into his holster.
He needed to be careful, he only had five bullets left, but at least he still had his machete.
He's was starting to get desperate. His stomach constantly groaned and was constantly empty. He can't remember the last time that he had food, not including the out of date snickers bar that he had about two days ago.
His blistered feet rubbed against his boots which are slightly too big for him as he wandered down the line, the only source of light is coming from his old torch. He doesn't know how long the battery is going to last. He had come across a small corner shop a couple of miles back, but none of the batteries had fit his damn torch.
The scariest and loneliest moment of his life was when he woke up in a strange hospital bed, cold, hurt and alone.
The only memories he had were from just before he walked out into the middle of the parking lot. It was a stupid thing to do. He should have looked where he was going, he can't even remember why he had done that, all he remembers is the shock, pain and then nothingness.
And now he has paid the price for one second of idiocy with a lifetime of suffering.
When he had woken up, from what he assumed to be a coma, he had called out for his mom, his dad, but nobody came. He was just a kid, a poor, stupid, little, kid.
He remembers how he had limped out of his bed, unhooked himself from the weird machines and he had run. He noticed how all the hallways were empty and dirty. Blood and a rather foul liquid had coated the molding walls and gave off a disgusting odor.
He limped down the hallway and heard bangs and groans. That's the first time he had ever seen a walker.
It had been wearing a doctor's uniform. It was so tall. Its skin was a sickly gray color.
A small cry escaped from deep within Carl. The walker opened it's dry mouth and shrieked, a bubble of red phlegm making a squelching sound in its throat, and a dark crimson fluid dripped from the corners of its mouth. Its tongue looked like it was a dark blue-ish color.
Most of Carls attention was focused on the man's head, his hair had looked like it had been violently ripped from it's peeling scalp, nothing but loose chunks of hair and goo in its place. It only had one eye, a gooey pink and white mess where it should be. Its shoulder had a massive chunk of flesh ripped from it.
Carl swallowed bile back and had willed the feeling of nausea to go away as the chunk of flesh hung loosely from the man's torn shoulder by a string of bloodied skin. It's Kneebone had pierced the skin and stuck out from the man's knee, dried blood and puss crusted around the edge.
The man's better leg had twitched, violently, almost as if he was having a spasm. The man gurgled, black liquid flowing from its mouth and made a move towards Carl.
He remembered how he had felt so sick, and terrified. He remembered how he had screamed, he had screamed as loudly as he possibly could, not caring if it drew the others to him.
He had turned around and quickly limped away as far and as fast as he could. He didn't care that broken glass was scratching at his bare feet, he also didn't care about the pain in his head and his side. But he didn't know where he was going. He just wanted to get as far away as possible.
He had managed to find a set of double doors that took him outside. He had cried in relief as he saw an abandoned bicycle outside the hospital. He jumped on it and without thinking he cycled as far away as he could.
That's when he realized that the hospital wasn't the only place that was abandoned. Everyone was missing. He didn't know where he was, he didn't recognize the town he was in. Fear and pain gnawed at his bones.
The slow memory crept like a cold worm through all his brain, he was so scared, he was just a kid.
That was until he met Tucker.
Tucker was a strong man in his mid-thirties. He had short, brown hair and a tall muscly build. He used to be a cop like his dad. He had found Carl passed out in his hospital gown on the side of the road, passed out from shock, pain, and dehydration.
Tucker was a good man. He took Carl to his house and Carl had met his wife and son.
They were both nice to him, Tucker's son, Thomas, had shown him all his toys and played with him when Carl got sad. Tucker and his wife had explained to him that the world had ended and the dead rose up and killed the living. He gave Carl clothes, fed him and gave him water, he was a shoulder to cry on when he missed his parents. He never asked questions which were too personal, but he never let Carl get lost in his painful memories.
Three months passed when Tucker and his family had finally given in to Carls' incessant whining and taken Carl to his house after he had told them his address. Tucker had warned him that he might not like what he sees, warned him that his parents might not be alive.
"Kid, don't get your hopes up, It probably ain't gonna be pretty"
Anticipation had gnawed at his bones like thousands of tiny rats digging at his skin. He took deep breaths as he had walked up to the front door. He knocked. Nobody answered. Tucker had managed to kick the door down.
As soon as it was down, Carl had run into his home, praying that he wouldn't find his mom and dad's dead bodies on the floor. But there was nothing there, he checked their rooms and their clothes were missing, as well as food and their car.
They had left him for dead.
Abandoned him.
Carl would never forgive them for it.
He had gone up into his room, grabbed his clothes and two other things. His moms' Perfume and his Dad's Sheriff's hat. He might have hated and blamed his parents, but he still wanted to remember them.
Tucker had pulled him into a bone-crushing hug as Carl had broken down into sobs outside what was once his house.
The drive back to camp was long and painful, Tucker had tried to put music on to make Carl smile, but they both knew that it was a lost cause.
When they had pulled up in the driveway, they immediately knew that something was wrong. The front door had been smashed in and the handle was missing. But the biggest giveaway was the trail of dark, gooey blood on the doorstep.
They had jumped out of the car, Tucker cocked his gun and sprinted inside. There was no point in rushing, Carl knew that they would be dead, if they were alive then they would have closed the door.
Carl had been right. Thomas and his mom twitched on the ground, their bodies dragged around as walkers grabbed ribbons of gunky flesh and crunched on bone. Tucker had straight away picked up up his gun and shot them both in the head.
Of course, Tucker blamed him, shouted at him, told him that if he hadn't of gone with Carl then his wife and son would still be alive.
Carl had stupidly believed him, feeling the guilt consume him.
Tucker eventually stopped blaming Carl and started blaming himself. It was Carl's turn to be his shoulder to cry on. Tucker had quickly learned that Carl was the only one that he had left. That's when they packed their bags and left, never returning to that area again.
They traveled for months, surviving on the road, no shelter apart from the occasional building they saw or the trees. It was hell, complete and utter hell. This was until they found a small cabin in the middle of the woods, it was secluded, safe. They would get the occasional walker, but they were easily killed by Tucker.
Tucker had started to be tough on Carl, he would force him to practice every single day, to the point of Carl being so exhausted that once when Tucker was training him, he actually passed out.
Tucker taught him how to shoot, how to use ring daggers until his fingers were covered in blisters, how to use knives and machetes.
He taught him how to set up snares, how to hunt. Carl remembered that Tucker wouldn't let him go to sleep until he got a bull's eye, told him that survivors don't sleep until they hit the target. He would constantly be drenched in sweat and covered in bruises and scratches as Tucker trained him.
His muscles always ached from the hand to hand combat training, and his heart ached at the thought of his family. Blood, sweat, and tears were shed.
The first time he had taught him hand to hand combat, Carl hadn't dodged his punch in time and had landed, ass first, onto the hard floor. Catching himself an ugly black eye. Carl had cried, he tried not to but he couldn't help it.
"Come on boy, In this world, there ain't any time for tears. Get back up, brush yer self off, and fight back" Tucker had said and pulled him back up.
Every time he had cried, every time he had fallen down, Tucker would look him in the eyes and say the words that kept Carl fighting.
"Destroy what Destroys you".
Years passed and by the age of thirteen he could hit the bull's eye, he could defend himself against walkers, and he could fight without falling on his ass, he still couldn't beat Tucker, but the man was huge and Carl was still only thirteen.
He would stare in the cracked mirror and stare at his reflection, his hair had grown, he had lost some of his baby fat and had grown taller. But he was still the same skinny boy with the messy hair and sheriff's hat, but this boy was much stronger and meaner than the one before the coma. This boy no longer feared walkers, instead, he hunted them.
Things changed when he was fourteen years old. He had walked out, down to the stream nearby to filter some water. He had taken his time, knowing that he had no reason to rush. He washed in the fresh stream and filtered the water calmly, enjoying the relaxing sound of birds chirping.
But his world came crashing in on him when he arrived back in the cabin that he had grown to call his home.
Tucker was on the floor, his chest rose up and down rapidly. His legs twitched and black liquid bubbled from his mouth. He screamed in pain, but the screams turned into gurgles as he choked on the blood that flowed from his face was contorted in pain.
Four walkers gnawed on his intestines that were being ripped viciously out of his jerking body. Disgust pushed up through Carls' throat, like rejected stomach acid. He might have screamed, he may have even cried, He might have been on the floor, a blubbering mess of snot and tears, but he can't remember.
Carl had done the only humane thing, he picked up his Desert Eagle and shot him right between the eyes.
He had to close his eyes, he couldn't bear to see Tucker hurt. Tucker was the only father figure that he had left and he had killed him. Then, his bullets had ripped through all of the walker's skulls. As soon as they were all dead, Carl grabbed his bags and stuffed them to the brim with his essentials, not forgetting his mom's perfume and his dads' hat. Carl looked around for something of Tuckers that he could take with him, something to remember him by.
Tuckers golden watch sat on the bedside table. He had always worn that watch, ever since the first time that Carl had met him, he had been wearing it. Carl picked it up and put it in his bag.
With a tear being shed, he had walked straight out of the cabin. He had no idea where he was even going to go. But he turned his head and left the bloody mess behind him.
Tucker was the only reason that he's alive right now. Tucker shaped him from the broken, little kid, and into the strong young man, he is now.
It's been a year since that all happened, now Carl, at fifteen years old, continued to walk.
His hand still hovered over his desert eagle. He doesn't have a set destination in mind, he's just following the tracks, hoping that they will take him somewhere. He can't hunt anymore because he doesn't have his crossbow, That's why he's not in the forest anymore.
Carl knows that he is exposed when he's on the tracks, but it doesn't matter. He can kill walkers easily and he hasn't seen any survivors. He shrugged his backpack further up his shoulders and continued onwards, ignoring the heavy bag and gritted his teeth as his boots rub his feet raw.
Anxiety hung around him like a dark impenetrable cloud. He couldn't help but be a little scared of the unknown, it's just human nature.
Carl's face scrunched up in annoyance and he subconsciously wiped his sweaty bangs away from his eyes with the back of his sleeve, nearly knocking off his hat in the process.
Carl shone his torch on the rocky train track beneath his feet, Cursing to himself that he didn't look for a place to sleep when it was lighter. He looks up at the bright moonlight, he should probably conserve his battery on his torch. He doesn't know how longs it's gonna last. He really needs to find some sort of town or city, anywhere with a convenience store. He's down to his last bottle of fresh water. But he has thankfully got a spile that he can use to filter water from trees, so at least he won't die from dehydration.
Carl kicked a loose rock of the track and headed over to a small patch of woodlands opposite the tracks. He stepped around a large oak and pulled up short, seeing a rather large tree with wide branches and a canopy filled with leaves. A blanket of leaves and twigs cracked beneath him as he walked over to the sturdy trunk.
That will do, he could easily climb up the branches and sleep there for the night. Then in the morning, he can hunt for some sort of small town or house.
Carl looked up at the branch that he wanted to sleep on, he unhooked his rucksack from his back and threw it onto the high branch, luckily landing it perfectly. He put his foot on one of the dents in the bark and hauled himself up.
Within a couple of minutes, he was up high enough that he was concealed by the leaves. He unbuckled his belt and wrapped it around his thighs so he wouldn't fall out, that would sting like a bitch.
Another night alone. How many nights has he been alone now? Over 300 at least ?.
Carl felt the odd urge to snicker - what's the point of him living anyway? He just wakes up, tries to find food, hopes for humanity, pisses, sleeps again and walks around. What a great life.
Carl yawned and leaned his head against the dirty trunk, causing his hat to fall and cover his eyes.
He closed his eyes and somehow forced the disturbing thoughts away from his mind.
Carl woke up to the sun warming his body. He had to drag himself out of his uncomfortable branch and will himself to move on forward. He landed on his feet, his bag fell to the ground.
He clicked his neck stretched out his stiff joints, a low pain in the small of his back from sleeping in an odd position.
He rummaged through his backpack, digging out a half-drunk, bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap and practically inhaled the water. His mouth watered as soon as the warm liquid hit his tongue. It was gone in an instant, not even close to quenching his dire thirst.
A branch suddenly snapped somewhere to his right. He jerked his head up to the direction of the sound. He held his breath and listened.
Another snap, this time it sounded louder and came from his left.
"Who's there ?"He asked, his voice sounding unfamiliar to him, he ignored the fact that it cracked. A tingle of fear made it's way up his dry throat.
His hand darted to his desert eagle, he quickly pulled it out of its holster and held it out in front of him, ready to shoot something down, With a flick of his finger the safety was off and he was ready to kill.
He stealthily and slowly circled around, checking his surroundings. He couldn't see anything. It might have been a small animal or a critter, it could have been a number of things. But that doesn't mean that he wasn't gonna be careful.
"Who's out there ?"He yelled and readied himself for an attack.
Another twig broke, this one sounding like someone had bent it over their knee and cracked it.
"I'm not afraid to shoot !" He shouted. "Where are you ?"
Instead of answering the person gave up all attempts at being silent and started running, twigs and branches cracked as they darted between the trees. Carl circled around, his body jerking around to try and stop his attacker. He spotted a blur of black and narrowed his eyes, he ignored the way his hands shook as he held his gun.
"Get 'em, boys !"A husky voice suddenly called out.
"Who the hel..."
A sharp pain in the back of his head stopped him from finishing.
And darkness overcame his mind once again.