The moon.
A harvest moon to be exact. The light from a harvest moon is unlike any on the planet. Translucent and ghostly, it magnifies the shadows and illuminates the things that go bump in the night. A splotch of cold, decay-ridden body fluid splashes across my cheek as yet another of the undead meets its untimely demise at my hand. Five years this apocalypse has been going on. Five excruciating, dreadfully long, years. In that time, killing the dead has become an afterthought. Its just something I do. To survive, to find the things necessary for my survival, and ensure the safety of myself and the people I love. Disgusted by the gunk that now paints my cheek, I raise a hand to wipe the almost raven-black blood away, but only succeed in smearing it even more than it already is.
Great.
Just great.
Behind me, motion catches my attention from the corner of my peripheral, causing me to glance back over my shoulder to examine the source. I'm in no danger, because the person that comes lumbering out of the shrubs is someone very familiar to me. Someone I'd recognize anywhere, even under the light of this eerie harvest moon. Carl Grimes is nineteen years old, tall, only slightly muscular, and still thin as the day I'd met him. His brown locks, painted black under the night sky, frame his head rather nicely, and his ocean-blue eyes glimmer in the light of the moon. He offers me an affirming nod, my signal to proceed, and the two of us continue our hike through the dense foliage. These runs have become fairly routine. Washington ran out of supplies we could use almost a year and a half ago, and so, at the suggestion of Daryl, the supply run team - complete with me as their medic - have been pushing further out in search of anything to better our community, Alexandria. This is the last night of our excursion and we don't have much to show for it. Daryl had nabbed us a couple of bucks the other night and Michonne had located some somewhat-looted outdoor stores, which still had seeds that could be planted back in the community.
Other than that?
We have a whole lot of nothing.
Leaves crunching off to Carl and I's left draws both our attention. No walkers, though. Only Michonne emerging from the nearby thicket. Like Carl and I, she is empty handed and looking rather sore about it. Her dreadlocks sway back and forth as she maneuvers through the bushes and underbrush towards where the two of us are waiting for her.
"No luck for you guys, either?" she inquires softly as we group up and continue our trek.
"Not even a scrap." I reply, a tone of frustration touching the edges of my now fully-developed bass voice.
"Damn." Michonne hisses.
"Where's Daryl?" Carl pipes in; his own voice has remained baritone, but there has been a slight deepening that I've noticed in the past year or so. Not anything too significant, however.
"Up the trail a bit." she replies. "Checking the snares one last time before we all turn in."
The situation is truly frustrating.
For three years, my group has lived in Alexandria. In that time, we've seen outside supplies dwindle significantly. We know its not just us looting these goods - there has to be other groups out there somewhere - and that is posing a significant strain on several of our needs; namely, medication, canned goods that are well-preserved, and ammunition for our weapon caches. What little has survived the initial five years of apocalypse without going bad was already scarce, but with looting an every constant dilemma, finding these necessities have become almost impossible. Michonne, Carl, and I break through the outer shrubbery and come to a clearing where we come across Daryl Dixon kneeling over one of the traps he's been working on.
"How's it coming?" I ask him upon approach.
I don't even worry about sneaking up and scaring him.
Daryl is probably the most alert man I know. He is keenly aware of his surroundings in ways that even Rick, Carl's father, is not. Its likely that he heard us approaching through the underbrush minutes before we broke through to his location. Daryl is also a mastery of identification. He can tell you, just by the way something is walker or sounds like its walking, whether its an animal, a human, or one of the legions of undead wandering the countryside. Years as a tracker and hunter have only been refined with his new role as a member of the supply run team.
"It ain't." the redneck responds, spitting a lugi into the nearby grass. "No catch. No sign of nothin'. I haven't even seen so much as a damn track."
"No luck on our end, either." Michonne notes.
I can hear Daryl curse under his breath.
"Winter's commin'." he says. "We gotta find somethin'... and soon."
And there is the reason for our urgency.
The winter is a particularly grueling season for Alexandria. Despite our walls, homes, and general luck, in the grand scope of things, the winter always seems to claim lives. The cold, sickness, or some combination of the two took nearly five people last winter. Judith, Carl's little sister, had been among the sick. Luckily, however, she recovered. So, with the cold months only two or so months away, it was imperative that we stock up on all of our necessities. Snow is scarce here in Virginia, but when it does come down, the combination of it and nearby walkers makes going on long supply runs almost suicidal. For that reason, our time is even more limited that usual.
"Nothing we can do about it now." Michonne reminds him. "We need to meet up with the others and turn in. Long trip back tomorrow."
Daryl huffs aloud, slapping the ground angrily with frustration.
Daryl Dixon does not tolerate failure and yet failure is all the seems to be turning up lately. It seems to be having a negative effect on the redneck, though I'm not about to blame him. His frustrations and anger are well justified by this point. Without another word, he swipes his crossbow of the ground nearby him, strapping it up around his shoulder, before rising to his full height. With one last glance at his trap, the redneck turns his head, spits another wad of saliva into the dirt, and then tears off in the direction of our base camp.
"C'mon." he calls out as he walks off.
We don't protest.
We're behind him before he even finishes his thought.
Later that night, Carl and I crawl into the back of the van we'd driven out here, and into our makeshift sleeping bags, which we'd stretched out over two seats which have been laid down flat to allow for some manner of comfort. Around us, everyone else has piled into their vehicles for the night as well. Glenn and Heath, one of the other team members, are on watch duty tonight and, personally, I'm grateful for that. Carl and I had watch duty the previous night and the two of us were almost as lifeless as the walkers by the time the morning sun touched the horizon. It would be nice to have a full night's sleep to prepare us for the day of the return trip, tomorrow.
But that's not the only reason its nice.
Once we're settled in, Carl flicks the sheet we have been using as a blanket over the top of both of us and snuggles into me. This is my favorite part of the night. I'm all too eager to wrap my arms around him and draw him into a close embrace. Its been three years. Three years since I met him in that neighborhood all alone. Three years since we got to know each other and became boyfriends. Its only been a year, though, since we were betrothed and, while we've certainly come off of what Carol refers to as the "honeymoon high", Carl and I still enjoy being affectionate towards one another. Sometimes, the thought of snuggling up with him before sleep is what gets me through the particularly harsh days. The both of us have matured greatly over the past year and, along with us, so has our relationship.
"Tired yet?" Carl mumbles into my chest.
"I don't think there is a word to describe how tired I am." I shoot back, grinning as I do.
He utters a muffled chuckle.
"We get a few days off when we get back." he reminds me. "What will we do with the free time?"
"Sleep." I reply almost immediately, widening his grin. "And then we sleep some more."
"If Judith lets us." Carl says.
There is truth to that.
Judith Grimes, now three years old, is a terror on two legs. She can walk, run, talk, scream, and all the other joyful traits a three year old can preform and while I love her to death, she has figured out a way, recently, to ensure that Carl and I wake up wanting to claw out our own eardrums. Judith likes to burst into our room unannounced, in the wee hours of the morning, and shriek like some sort of banshee until one or both of us come flying out of our bed to chase her out. Rick lets her slide sometimes, because he finds it both amusing and a good "alarm clock" for the two of us.
I snort a laugh.
"We really need to invest in a doorknob with a lock." I joke with him, my eyes starting to flutter shut with fatigue.
"Yeah?" his voice responds. "Let me know if you find one. I'll help you install it."
I smile.
Truly, Carl has been, and continues to be, the greatest blessing in my life. Even little conversations like these making everything we're fighting so hard for worth it. Some mornings, I roll over, crashing into his toned back and wonder just how I ever slept at night without him laying next to me, before everything went down. Its gotten to the point where the few nights that I do have to sleep without him, I've been incapable of sleep myself. Carl being there has just become the norm. Second nature. I can't imagine him anywhere else. Its a dangerous feeling to have in a world where life is so uncertain, but after three long years of him always being there, I've allowed myself a reprieve from such worries and concerns.
Reaching the end of my consciousness, I use the last remnants of my strength to nuzzle the top of his head, and plant a kiss in the messy mop of hair sitting atop it. I feel Carl sigh happily into me and he quickly returns the gesture, leaning up to peck the bottom of my cheek before snuggling back into his previous position.
"Love you." he murmurs.
"Love you too." I reply.
The darkness of sleep comes almost immediately and I'm whisked away into that far away dreamworld.
The days ahead have much in store for us.
####
Morning.
Hues of red, orange, and yellow are plastered across the clear daybreak sky; a gorgeous masterpiece in the heavens and a perfect way to greet a day spent mostly on the road back to Alexandria. Our convoy had packed up and begun the drive back shortly before the sun's first rays illuminated the horizon and is now well into our second hour on the road back with approximately two or three more to go before we reach our destination. The morning air is fresh and cool, so Carl and I have the driver and passenger side windows on our van rolled down, allowing the wind to fill the cab of our vehicle and gust over us; whipping our hair around rather humorously in the process. Carl drove on the way here, so its my turn to drive us back. He is reclined in the passenger seat, eyes shut, simply enjoying the breeze and the ride. Next to us on the road is Daryl, who is on his trademark motorcycle, wearing a pair of sunglasses to block out the sun's potent rays. Three other vehicles form our convoy as well, one of which is carrying Michonne and Glenn, while the other two are carrying the remaining five members of our supply group.
The ride is a silent one, but no words need to be exchanged.
Our run wasn't as successful as any of us had hoped it would be, but everyone is in one piece and is together, and that is all we can really ask for these days.
The drive is a spectacular one. I never get tired of the view. Our convoy rounds a corner and is now high enough to see the object of my fascination. The Chesapeake Bay. Illuminated by the morning sun, which is now fully visible hovering over the horizon, the waters of the Atlantic Ocean, which flow into the Bay, are a breathtaking sight to behold. Prior to the end of civilization, I had only seen the Bay once, during a trip my family took to the nation's capitol. I have been captivated by it ever since. Next to me, Carl opens one of his eyes and regards me with a grin touching the corners of his mouth.
"If you stare any harder, we're going to have a wreck." he chortles.
Now its my turn to smile.
"Have you ever seen something so beautiful?"
He studies me for a moment, then, opening both eyes, he peers out of his window upon the bay stretched out below us. Carl doesn't observe it long, though, before returning his sight to me. His expression softens from a grin to a genuine smile.
"Yeah." he replies vaguely.
I smile back at him.
Its only then that I hear the loud roar of Daryl's motorcycle beside me. Its his way of trying to get my attention when we're on the road. My head bolts around from Carl to the redneck, who is shaking his head with shame at me.
"Save the romance for the bedroom!" he yells over wind and engines. "You're driving like a crazy fuckin' Asian!"
Well played, Daryl.
He just managed to take a pot shot at myself, Carl, and Glenn all in one breath. I grin widely. Daryl has taken quite a liking to picking on Carl and I whenever we get overly wrapped up in one another. Though, this time, he actually has a point. It was starting to affect my driving. Nevertheless, I've become comfortable enough around the redneck to fire back a retort whenever he does this.
"Mind your own business, Daryl!" I shout back out the window. "Your driving is just as lousy as mine!"
Daryl doesn't bother further arguments, merely giving me the bird before returning his attention to the road.
In my rear view mirror, I can see Michonne, who is driving behind me, grin and shake her head. My grin widens further, clearly pleased with myself. The rest of the trip is uneventful. Hours pass us by and eventually, I can make out the main wall of Alexandria approaching in the distance. By this point, the sun is reaching mid-height in the sky and the air is beginning to warm slightly, which has the nice effect of making the air even more pleasant than it was earlier this morning. Within minutes of coming into sight of the wall, our convoy has pulled up to the gate and is awaiting entry back into the community. Back to our families and friends.
Back home.
The gates screech open and I immediately throw the van back into drive, pulling into the community and then making an immediate turn towards the parking lot we always unload in. Alexandria is a different place than it was three years ago. In fact, its different than it was even a year ago, when Carl and I finally tied the knot. The wall and expansion teams have drastically expanded the community to include most of what was formally known as "Old Town" Alexandria; the historical center of the city. While this expansion hasn't put us in complete control of the city, it does mean the community has had the ability to spread out and grow. This expansion also came with an added blessing; access to the Potomac River, of which the city sits on the western banks. With the river, the community was able to begin harvesting fish, and we had gained a nearly infinite source of water. An impeccable resource in the post-apocalyptic world. Additionally, under the suggestion of Rick, the community had begun to make farms out of the backyards of vacant homes, to be used in food production. It is certainly a pretty good set up, all things considered, but there is catch.
Everything isn't as perfect as it seems.
Despite our wealth of resources, recently, times have become tough again. During the last winter, an early freeze killed a good majority of the crops we were growing, leading our community to become short on food almost overnight. Scavenging for food was nearly useless now. Aside from canned goods, most man made food before he Turn has gone bad, forcing us to resort to hunting and farming. At first, the animal population was large enough that this wasn't too much of a problem, but, as it turns out, walkers don't just eat other people and the growing walker herds soon began taking out any animal they could get their hands on. So far, fishing is the only for sure way we can gather food, but with winter approaching again, even they will soon become scarce.
Long story short; food is tight.
Really tight.
Carl and I depart our vehicle and immediately head for the truck Michonne was driving to help unload what little we had brought back. About the time we reach the vehicle, I see Rick Grimes approaching. He always makes a point to come out to greet us when we return from these things. There is another change in the community that I forgot to mention. Rick is running the show now. Douglas has long since retired from the position of leader of the camp. Last summer a truly tremendous herd of walkers attacked the walls and Rick, being the person that he is, and with our group at his side, lead the efforts to repel the walkers. And we kicked ass, naturally. Okay, it wasn't as easy as I make it sound, but we did eventually repel the herd and Rick's leadership had been on display for everyone to see. After that, Douglas realized that our experiences on the road had made us more battle-hardened that almost anyone within Alexandria's walls, and he felt that Rick would be a much more prepared and meticulous leader.
And he is.
Rick Grimes is the reason the community has grown so much in such a short period of time.
I truly admire him for that.
"Four days." he says upon approaching us. "You were only supposed to be gone for two."
Rick's concern is always apparent.
He hadn't particularly liked letting Carl out of his sight for these runs, but when I had volunteered to go along as group medic, he had relented. Even so, Rick is very vocal about his concerns when we take longer than expected. And its not just Carl he worries about. Ever since becoming his son-in-law, Rick's fatherly concern has extended to me as well and then, to a lesser, but still potent extent, Michonne, Daryl, and Glenn.
"Turns out Rockville is stripped clean." I inform him. "Daryl wanted to push further into Maryland to see if there was anything to be found."
"And?" Rick replies. "Was there?"
I shake my head.
Rick huffs in frustration.
"Well," he continues. "You're safe. That's all that matters now."
Rick steps forward and pats my shoulder a few times before turning his full attention to his oldest child. Even though Carl is nineteen years old, Rick still greets him with a strong embrace. It has never really bothered Carl. He is usually just as happy to see his father as his father is to see him. When the two come apart, Michonne and Daryl are standing on the other side of them, looking surprisingly amused.
"What?" Michonne quips sarcastically. "No hug for us?"
Rick grins and gives her a strong pat on the shoulder.
"Let's get all this stuff to the storehouse." Rick directs. "Daryl, I'll let you take care of those two deer. Carl?"
The younger Grimes regards his father with an inquisitive stare.
"Why don't you take Tanner and go pick up your sister." Rick continues. "We've got things from here."
Carl nods reluctantly. Usually, the two of us stay and help unload the spoils, then assist with taking what we can over the storehouses. Unlike me, Carl doesn't like just going with the flow. He's a committed worker who doesn't like to skimp out on the hard work that is necessary around here. Yet, ever since Rick became the leader around here, the elder Grimes has made sure that Carl equally divides his time between work and family. Its not a bad concept, which is why I've never said anything to either one of them about it. Noticing his hesitation, I reach around and gently place my hand on his shoulder, bringing his attention back to reality and his gaze to mine.
"C'mon." I urge him. "Let's go see Judy."
He flashes me a soft smile and then nods, then we're off.
####
"Look who's back."
Carol hasn't changed much in the past couple of years.
She is still stoic and serious, no matter the situation, but even so, her eyes seem to glimmer with light upon seeing that Carl and I have returned from our extended supply run outside the walls. She props the door to her home open further, allowing us both inside. I immediately spot Judith seated at the coffee table in the center of the sitting room, a piece of paper situated in front of her, while she furiously tears away at it with several crayons that are awkwardly clustered in both of her tiny hands. Judith is a child with a one-track mind. She's too wrapped up in her mutilation of the paper in her possession to notice her brother and I entering the home. Next to me, Carl smirks upon seeing his little sister enraptured in her antics. Upon joining us, after closing the door behind her, Carol does the same.
"She's been like this all morning." Carol explains to us.
"Think she'll notice us?" Carl asks, as much to myself as he does to Carol.
"Give her a moment." I reply. "Won't be long."
Sure enough, Judith must've felt our stares weighing on her, because her tiny brunette head snaps up and a wide smile immediately spreads across her pasty-colored face. In that instant, she completely forgets her makeshift art project even exists, dropping the crayons that were in her hands as she bolts around the table and then makes a beeline for the two of us. Squealing the entire way, I might add.
"Tawnner!" she squeals. "Carl!"
Well, at least she's learned to say her brother's name properly.
She still adds the extra syllable to mine, for whatever reason. She's slowly getting better at it though.
Carl nimbly drops to his knees and opens his arms in time for his baby sister to fill them. He easily scoops her into his arms and lifts her with equal simplicity. Its only been four days since we've seen the little tike, but it never ceases to amaze me just how excited she gets whenever we return from our trips, no matter their length. In turn, I wrap my arms around my significant other and my toddler sister-in-law for what is quite a joyful group hug. Its short and sweet, but its a moment I've come to cherish over the past year that Carl and I have been doing runs. Eventually, you learn to cherish the little stuff like this.
"Daryl with you guys?" Carol pipes up behind us.
"He's with Rick and Mich." I reply, breaking away from our huddle.
"Did you guys find anything worthwhile?" she continues her questioning.
"Just two small buck," Carl replies, shaking his head. "Michonne landed some seeds for the farms, but other than that, nothing."
Carol frowns, "Still nothing to find out there, huh?" she notes. "He won't be happy this evening then."
"We have to hold out hope." I chime back in. "There's gotta be somewhere with supplies out there. We just gotta find it."
Carol offers me a weak smile, and lays her hand on my shoulder, which she then rubs gently.
"I hope you're right." she says.
We don't stay much longer after that. After thanking Carol for watching after Judith, the three of us take off for home. Being back home always brings a sense of serenity back to my heart, no matter how troubled it may get out on the road. Carl and I part as he heads off to put Judith down for a nap and I make my way to the other side of the house to shower. Four days on the road can make a man stink in the most unpleasant ways imaginable.
I've gotten used to it by now, but that doesn't mean that I don't seize opportunities to get myself clean whenever possible. Reaching the bathroom, I quickly twist the knob to start the running water, and begin to furiously lose my clothes. Once they're all off and I'm bare, I examine myself in the bathroom mirror; another little quirk I've picked up since we've started on runs. Aside from the sheer volume of dirt that covers my fair skin, there is a variety of small gashes and scratches from where I'd met the business end of a large thorn bush. While not particularly bothersome, I wanted to make sure I hadn't brushed up against any poison ivy or poison oak. To my relief, there are no signs of a rash or any other malicious growths. As I finish my inspection and begin to my focus towards getting into the shower for cleaning, I hear the door crack open and see Carl poke his head through the opening.
"Can I join?"
I can't help but grin at him, "I thought you'd never ask."
A pleased smile on his face, Carl slips completely into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. He is just as quick to shed his clothing, revealing that he's just as dirty, if not dirtier, than I am. Not that I mind it. There is a certain appeal to Carl when he's covered in dirt and the grime from several days of hard labor. I don't waste time and water by continuing to admire his physique, however. Instead, I push back the shower curtain and step in, him following right on my heels. The water is cold, but that is something else I've come to get used to. A cold shower is better than no shower. As usual, Carl and I take turns washing the other off until we're both free of the crud that had been covering us for the past four days. We finish quickly, leaving us a few minutes to just enjoy the water and each other. I let my hands slide down his arms on the way down to wrap around his bare waist, but my right hand stops when it brushes over the ring on his ring finger. I let my touch linger there for a moment, feeling the metallic band I'd gifted Carl three years ago, and that'd he'd only begun wearing around his finger a year ago.
Right where it belongs.
Carl smiles at the gesture, likely knowing where my thoughts are drifting to, and promptly turn around and plants a kiss square on my lips. I'm all too eager to return it, tongue sliding along the edge of his lips before slipping inside his mouth to coax his own tongue out to play. All throughout our kissing session, I keep my hand firmly pressed against his ring, as if to remind myself its still there. I kiss him softly and lovingly for several more moments until we slowly come apart from each other. His smile is heavenly as he leans his forehead against mine.
"We'd better get out." he notes. "Save some water for Michonne later."
"She does stink, doesn't she?" I joke. We all stunk after that run.
"Absolutely," Carl replies, catching onto my joke. "Worse that we did, even."
I chuckle slightly at this.
"Totally telling her you said that." I poke at him.
"Bite me." he snaps in retort.
"Is that a challenge?" I cock my eyebrow at him and grin mischievously.
Carl grins at my childish antics. Very few people can cause him to grin like that. To break his usual wall of seriousness and get underneath to the true caring, lovable human being he is underneath. But I can do it. I can do it well. And I revel in being able to make him smile. Its one of the things I take the most pride in. Carl's smile is better than any victory trophy. Rather, his happiness is the greatest victory I can achieve. I'd promised Rick shortly after I'd proposed to Carl that I'd do everything in my power to make his son happy and, so far, I've made good on my commitment.
"I'm serious, Tanner." he continues.
I sigh in mock defeat.
"Alright." I groan.
Rolling his eyes with a snort of laughter at me, he climbs out of the shower to dry, and I'm right behind him. As I'm drying myself alongside him, I can't help but think that, as I have almost every day for the past few years of living here, if my life continues forward like this, the apocalypse might not be such a bad place to live after all.
####
Later that day, Carl and I find ourselves in the streets.
Its a nice day out. The sun is warming the town, but there is just enough of a breeze to keep it from being unbearably hot. The two of us have been chatting idly for the past half hour. There isn't much to do and neither of us have seen any of the others, besides Carol, since returning from our run. That changes shortly, however, when Rick rounds the street corner just across the road from us, and starts making his way towards us. Its unusual for Rick to come this close to home so early in the day. After taking over the responsibility of leading the Safe Zone, he usually spends most of his time dealing with the internal matters that often plague the inside, which keeps him out until nearly sunset. Even so, his purposeful stride and hardened expression tells me that he isn't coming home for the day, nor to make small talk. He is a man on a mission; as he usually is.
"Carl. Tanner." he calls to us as he gets closer.
"What is it?" Carl asks, craning his neck to put his father into view.
"I need your help at the gate." Rick continues.
"Walkers?" I inquire, curious.
Rick never usually bothers Carl and I when we're back from runs. Usually, we use the time to relax together, or spend time with our friends and family, but every so often the walker build up on the wall forces him to recruit extra hands. None of us are strangers to using our days off to help ward off a large influx of walkers. To my surprise, however, Rick shakes his head and folds his arms. I glance at Carl, who having sensed the same unease as I had, is glancing back at me; a curious expression chiseled into his face. At once, we both return our stares towards Rick, awaiting an explanation.
"Sasha and Tyreese have wall duty today." Rick begins. "Couple of minutes ago, they spotted some movement in the trees. Thought it was walkers. It was actually a man. A man that is now at our gates."
I crane my eyebrow at this.
People coming to our gates is no unusual occurrence. Over the years, we've taken in a large amount of survivors, and in that time, Rick has never looked this concerned about any of them. Its perplexing, but I know he's not done talking, so I refrain from speaking up.
"This man says he's from another group. Wants to talk." he goes on.
"One man?" Carl butts in. "What do you need our help for, then?"
"To help Sasha and Tyreese keep watch." Rick replies. "We don't know if this guy is trying to lure us into an ambush. If he has people in the woods. You, Tanner, Sasha, and Tyreese can keep an eye on the surroundings while Daryl and I chat with this guy."
Seems reasonable enough. You never can be too careful anymore. I cast Carl a glance, to which he nods. Seems he's thinking along the same lines as I am. Without replying verbally, I return my gaze to Rick's and give him my nod of acceptance. Besides, Rick had said this newcomer was with another group, and I was quite curious to see what he'd come all this way alone to talk to us about. That's not something one does without a purpose in mind. It also could be, as Rick mentioned, a trap set to lure us into a false sense of security before some raid. Its always best to be prepared. The three of us make our way up the streets until the wall comes into view. Immediately, I spot Sasha peering back over her shoulder at us from the top of the wall. Tyreese is a bit further down, peering down at what I'm guessing is the man in question, on the other side. Daryl joins up with us as we continue our approach and, as we come closer, Carl and I split off from Daryl and Rick to climb the ladder to the top of the wall.
From this vantage point, I can finally see the object of Rick's concern. The man is tall, stocky, and dressed in a large trench coat. He sports a beard that could rival Hagrid's from a Harry Potter movie that I saw back in the old days. Below me, the gates swing open and Rick and Daryl march out to meet this stranger. The man sports a fairly warm smile. Its almost disarming. I'm definitely not getting any bad vibes from him, but I don't let my guard down. I have too many memories of people who gave me good vibes, only to find out that they were some nutcase later on. Instead, I focus my sight outward towards the trees as Rick had suggested, looking for any sign of danger in the surrounding woods, while simultaneously keeping my ears open to listen to the conversation ensuing below.
"I'll ask again." I hear Rick's voice ring out. "What are you here for?"
"A conversation. More like.. a proposal." the man replies, voice surprisingly not as deep as I'd thought it would be. His voice is almost as soft as his expression was.
The man must've moved, because Rick immediately issues a warning.
"Stay right where you are. Armed or not, you're not coming a step closer to these gates until I verify your intentions."
"Understood." the man replies. "I'm not here to cause you harm. Like I said. I'm here to talk. My name is Paul. Paul Monroe, though I really don't go by that name. My friends back from where I come from just call me 'Jesus'."
In that moment, I have to resist the urge to burst out in hysterical laughter. What a fitting nickname. The man's physical appearance certainly bears a great resemblance to the modern depictions of Jesus Christ; tall, stocky, mess of brown hair atop his head, and a long brown beard. Carl must've heard me snort, because he flashes me a look, which is my cue to return to watching the woods. Even so, I can't resist the smirk that curls across my lips. Hey, a guy has to find amusement in something, right? Even in these days.
"And just where do you 'come from'?" Rick pushes. "How many of you are there?"
There is a pause.
"Like you, I come from a community of survivors." Paul continues. "I can't put an exact number on them, but I'd say close to two hundred."
W...what?!
Two hundred?!
I thought Alexandria was big and we are currently sitting at around seventy survivors. But two hundred?! That's just massive!
"A community that large?" Rick asks. "Then what do you need from us? You said you had a proposal."
"That I do, friend." Paul replies. "You see we need anything you've got or can offer. My group lives about twenty miles from here on the other side of the capital. The residents are good people. We've never had any real trouble. As I've said, though, we're nearly two hundred strong. Supplies don't last very long when you have that many mouths to feed, that many bodies to cloth, and that many people safe. It seems we're always short of something."
"Well, you're out of luck." Rick retorts. "We're in the same boat, supply wise. There's nothing for you to take."
"I'm not suggesting we take your stuff, friend. I'm proposing a trade system. Swapping. You guys have supplies we could use and we have supplies you could use. Everyone benefits, no one goes without."
My ears perk up at this.
That is certainly a good solution to our lack of supplies from the runs as of late. It would also explain why Washington dried up so quickly. If there are other groups taking supplies from the city, then eventually all of them will be gone, because too many people are siphoning them. I'm actually rather surprised we haven't run into these people before. They must be pretty reclusive. Cautious at the very least.
"What kind of supplies are we talking about?"
"Well, for instance, your community has somehow managed to stay well stocked on ammunition." Paul explains. "Our guns ran dry months ago. We're down to using knives and machetes. In exchange, we have food. Lots of it. We have to in order to feed the number of people we've amassed. If you're good on food, clothing, tools; you name it, we've got it."
"Not to sound skeptical, but that sounds much too good to be true." Rick replies bluntly. "I'm suppose to believe you came all the way out here, alone and poorly armed, to make a trade arrangement with us?"
"No." Paul replies. "Not exactly. I had two other destinations. Supply drops at two other camps."
This Paul guy really has gotten my attention a lot today.
Two additional camps?
Before today, I was convinced that our safe zone was the only community of survivors in the Washington area. The revelation that there is actually four comes as quite a shock to me. I sense someone's gaze on me and turn to see Carl regarding me with an expression of equal shock and awe. That expression only lasts a few seconds, though, before fading into a more serious and thoughtful look. As Carl has matured over the years, I've noticed his mentality becoming more and more like his father's. Because of this, and the fact that I know him better than pretty much anyone here, I know what he's thinking. Rather than consider all of the good this could possibly bring Alexandria, or three new potential allies against the walker threat, Carl is seeing three potential threats that need to be dealt with. I hope he's not right, though. I hope these people really are who they say they are.
"Two other camps?" Daryl chimes in, echoing our sentiments.
"That's right." Paul says. "Counting my camp, that's three, and with yours that makes four living in the Washington area. You guys... you didn't actually think you were the only survivors out here? ...Did you?"
"To be honest." Rick replies. "Yes. We had no reason to believe otherwise. We've lived here three years and haven't encountered any other camps, other than those we took in."
I hear Paul chuckle slightly.
Something about the inflection in his voice causes me to take my eyes off of the woods and focus them solely on him. Paul Monroe is brimming with pride and confidence. He's a curious sight to behold. In a way, he reminds me of Aaron the day he found us and told us about Alexandria. As if having a place to return to; a group to survive with, fills them with some sort of tremendous confidence upon telling others. I also finally get a glimpse at Rick and Daryl, who are still standing in front of Paul. Daryl is his usual stoic self. His face doesn't betray even a hint of surprise, doubt, or alarm. The redneck simply observes the events unfolding before him. Closely observing Paul and Rick's exchange. Rick, on the other hand, is visibly conflicted and somewhat awestruck.
"Boy," Paul breathes at last. "Your whole world is about to change."
A/N: So, another promise of mine. Alongside Deliverance, I will be working on this sequel to This Cruel Reality. As I never rehash the same plot twice, you can expect it to be a gripping continuation of the first story, with its plot evolving alongside its characters. Like the first story, the characters are all based on the TV series characters, and the plot will be influenced by both the show and the comics, though also like the first story, its all my story-telling, so there will always be new dynamics and content to enjoy. For those of you new to me, and haven't read This Cruel Reality, the story picks up with the last one left off, so there may be some details that will confuse you if you haven't read it first. I've been planning this story ever since I announced that I was bouncing around the idea for a sequel (back in March or Aprilish), so you have a lot to look forward to. This story, however, will be the final installment in the series and should be shorter. We'll see about that last one, though. It very well could end up just as long. I really hope you all enjoy this story/sequel as much, if not more, than the first. Just a quick heads up, though, for those who would care about this; unlike This Cruel Reality, expect major character deaths with this story. That is one of the new elements I'm adding to this sequel to keep you folks on the edge of your seat ;) No spoils though!
Like with the last one, I will be answering reviews after each chapter (if there are reviews to answer), so please comment and review. Speak your opinions, thoughts, and questions. I love to hear them all :)
Welcome to a new chapter, folks.
Enjoy!