Carl Grimes nervously fiddled with his wedding ring as he sat in his office. This was the first day of school. The first day to talk to new college students, who weren't even born when the Great Plague was created, raged for three years, then ended.
The window beside him ushered in a crisp fall breeze, which allowed him to take a deep breath and shake off the anxiety which gripped his heart. His doctor prescribed Zoloft and Xanax, and he popped a few of the latter, washing it down with a gulp of coffee. He heard the usual sounds that he once took for granted. Some birds were chirping, a few dogs barking, and the faint roar of an airplane flying through the beep blue sky.
A few coeds playing on the campus grounds caught his attention. He watched as they played touch football, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He knew they never had to run for their lives to avoid being eaten by the undead.
They never had to lose home after home, shelter after shelter, and had to face the terror of losing family and friends to sadists who manipulated the end of the world to form their own social structure.
The children, just kids, he scoffed, were born in a hospital. They grew up with what he vaguely remembered…Saturday morning cartoons, regular meals, a safe, home environment, Christmas morning, family gatherings, drove cars, went out to restaurants and stood on line at the grocery store, went to movies…
The thirty-five year old man watched as the naïve teens never had to go days without eating, never had to call a decrepit prison a home, and never shot their mother in the head once she was gutted in order to bring a baby into the world. The fresh faced kids never had to sit helplessly and watch as their mother figure was brutally beaten by a madman using a barbed wire covered baseball bat. He felt himself tilt his head, just slightly, to the right.
xxxxx
He looked at the pictures on his desk…his wedding day with him and his bride, Enid, one that he was able to restore of him with his parents sitting over a birthday cake, and the third frame held the picture of his twin daughters, Elizabeth Lori and Margaret Michonne Grimes.
Carl thought about the reason why his mother met such a grisly fate. His sister, Judith. The only picture of her was in his mind. Little ass-kicker. She'll forever be an infant. He closed his eyes to steady himself…
The madman entered the gates of the Alexandria Safe Zone as if he owned the place. His minions collected everything they had…everything they worked so hard to get in a world gone to shit. He heard his father yell and begin to beg as the man with the ever present baseball bat held his baby sister. An evil grin tugged at his lips before he sauntered over to the wall that separated the living and the undead. Fat Joey held his father back as the man lifted Judith high in the air and tossed her over the fence…
xxxxx
His eyes snapped open and he wiped away a few tears as he tried to shake off the memory. One glance at his wrist let him peek at the time on his father's old watch, noticing he had a few minutes before he walked into the classroom in order to field questions, tell his personal story, and quickly quash any hinting of conspiracy theories.
After looking into the small mirror on his wall. You are smart, and you are so brave. And you're gonna beat this world…I know it.
It was so long ago, but he wanted to talk to his mom. Just to hear her voice. Just that morning he visited his father's grave. Rick was buried with his third wife, Maggie Greene-Rhee-Grimes.
"I hope you're at peace. Tell mom, Judy and Mama Maggie I said hi. I made it…I'm gonna tell everyone what happened."
xxxxx
Carl paced around his office, grabbed his IPhone, the newest model at 420A, and walked out of the room.