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TIME LOST

Screaming. The unmistakeable high pitched cries of people in distress echoed around him. Below the piercing note of screams was the dull chorus of undead groans. The shambling undead corpses that were surrounding and biting into those screaming people. The smell of rotting flesh filled the air and assaulted the senses. One of the many tents had somehow caught fire, the smell of smoke taking to the air and a thick blanket of black smoke obscured their surroundings. Gunshots cracked through the horrific noise signalling some of the people's last stands against the monsters that had invaded their camp. He heard it all as he ran, his heartbeat ringing in his ears almost as loudly as the terror unfolding behind him. His hand squeezed round the hand of his companion as he led them both to temporary safety.

What seemed like hours that had passed had probably only been minutes but it didn't matter to him. All he knew was that he couldn't hear the screams or the groans or the gunshots anymore. He saw a building in his peripheral vision and guided his companion towards it. Pulling out a hatchet he ran up to the front door of what was previously a family's home and kicked the door open. The inside of the house was dark. The moonlight couldn't penetrate through the double layer of slate and tree branches above. He grabbed the dust-covered answering machine and tossed it into the room ahead of him, the noise of its landing deafening in the silence of the night. A single deathly moan came from the same room as one of the corpses revealed itself by stumbling towards the source of the noise. He moved forward swiftly and buried his hatchet in the back of the creature's skull. The monster dropped to the floor with a thud and silence returned.

The body was heavier than he expected it to be, causing him to groan in effort as he dragged it out of the house through the front door. He left it on the front porch, deciding it was better to move it in the morning light than in complete darkness. He walked back into the house and closed the door behind him. He wrapped his arms around a book case and groaned in effort as he moved it in front of the door as a makeshift barricade. He turned around and took in the sight before him. His companion was sitting in the middle of the room, cradling their knees in their arms as tears streamed from their eyes and rolled down their cheeks.

He knelt down in front of them.

"It's okay, we're safe for now." He told them in an effort to calm them.

His companion continued to cry however.

"I'm sorry about the others but maybe some of them survived." He suggested.

"It's not that." Came the choked reply. "I was bit."

He awoke with a start, a sudden noise having roused him from his painful memories. He looked around him, taking his surroundings as his short term memory started to kick in. Wooden panels surrounded him, spider webs in the darker corners and a layer of dust covered most surfaces. He looked out the grime covered windows and saw tree branches and the hints of sunlight. That's when it all came back. He was in a treehouse. He shifted and winced as the handle of the trapdoor beneath him dug into his back, forcing him to sit up-right.

He yawned and rubbed the sleep out of his blue eyes before pushing his messy brown hair back into place. Then the sound erupted again from the distance. It was the sound of an explosion. He listened closely and could make out the faint echo of gunfire. It sounded like a war. Grabbing his backpack, labelled "Jason", he reached for a bottle of water and took a drink of it before stuffing it back in the bag. Reaching into the bag again, he took out a small book along with a pencil. Jason used the pencil to mark a new tally mark on one of the pages of the book before closing it and putting it back in his backpack. He lifted a brown leather jacket from the floor, put it over his black, long sleeved top and zipped it up. From the other side he picked up his holster and clipped the belt back round the waistband of his dark cargos before placing his handgun back into the holster. From the pockets of his leather jacket he withdrew a pair of black leather fingerless gloves and put them on. Getting down on one knee at a time he then tightened the laces of his black boots before slipping the strap of the backpack round his shoulder and opening the trapdoor of the treehouse.

Jason slowly climbed down the ladder that had been built into the tree-trunk and checked his surroundings. There was no sign of any undead which didn't come as a surprise as they would all be drawn towards the sounds of battle in the distance. Despite the obvious danger and the stupidity of his decision, he allowed his curiosity to get the better of him and headed towards the battle.

By the time he had reached the source of the chaos the explosions and gunshots had come to an end. A thick cloud of dark smoke rose into the air as an equally thick chorus of undead groans echoed all-round the area. Jason kept himself hidden within some bushes and observed the area that all the corpses were marching to. It was the remains of a prison, the fences were now down, and fire was whipping out of holes in the walls and some of the windows. The courtyard was filled with bodies and the walking dead. Abandoned cars also littered the area and in the prison's main yard there was a burning tank that was surrounded by undead trying to get to it. Most of the undead were marching through the courtyard up to the tank and into the ruins of the prison blocks. His eyes scanned the area for any signs of life and came across one figure walking through the grass of the courtyard. It looked like a woman and she was walking towards a body that was writhing on the ground. Jason watched her as she shot the head of the body before looking around herself as all the nearby corpses swarmed her and tore her apart. He averted his gaze as she went down and by doing so he spotted two figures heading into the foliage. They looked injured and vulnerable, their pace slow and broken by the limping of one of the figures. Usually Jason would walk the other way but it was clear that what had happened here was not from the undead but from people versus people. At the very least he could learn something from them and if they were hostile he could easily kill both of them given how weak they appeared. Checking his surroundings for corpses, he started walking in the same direction as the figures he had seen.

Carl marched down the leaf covered path with haste, his gaze focused ahead of him at all times. A few feet behind him, a beaten and blooded Rick followed him, limping from the gunshot wound to his thigh. The area was quiet and free of walkers but because of the severity of his injuries, Rick was starting to fall behind. His leg burned from the gunshot wound despite having applied a tourniquet using one of his shirt sleeves and the injuries to his face, left eye and forehead throbbed in agony. He grit his teeth from the sharp pain in his side, he guessed some of his ribs were broken.

"Carl." He called out weakly. "Slow down."

His adolescent son ignored his request and continued walking at a constant pace, far too fast for his broken body to keep up with.

"Carl, stop!" Rick bellowed, pain evident in the hoarse nature of his voice.

Carl finally stopped walking and stood still but continued looking at the road ahead.

"We need to stick together. We need to find a place." Rick told him as he finally caught up. "Food, shelter, supplies."

Carl refused to acknowledge his father, so Rick placed his bandaged hand on Carl's shoulder.

"Hey, we're gonna be…" Rick cut himself off as a result of the angry look his son gave him.

Carl looked ahead again and continued marching on with Rick limping in pain behind him.

The walker snarled at Jason as he made his approach through the dense vegetation. It started to approach him with stiff, unbalanced steps as it poorly navigated the maze of plants, roots, branches, and rocks. Jason marched towards it and took out a knife from a sheath on his belt. Once the walker was in striking distance he side-stepped the beast and stabbed the knife forcefully into its temple. Once he pulled the knife out the body dropped to the floor lifeless. He grabbed a large leaf from a tree and broke it at the stem. He folded the leaf over his knife and used it to clean the blade of walker blood before sheathing it again and discarding the leaf.

Jason burst out of the foliage onto an old path. He turned left and started walking down it, grateful for the total lack of undead or hostile living. As he made his way down the path he came across a patch of mud that contained recently made footprints. The footprints belonged to two people, one wearing flat shoes and the other wearing boots. He smiled and let out a sigh of relief, it looked like he hadn't lost the trail of the two figures he saw back at the prison. Taking this as a sign he continued his journey with renewed vigour.

Carl and Rick had gathered some supplies and had now entered a small neighbourhood that appeared to be a ghost town. No signs of people or walkers though looks were always deceiving. With over a dozen houses any number of walkers could be hidden behind those walls.

The pains in Rick's side, face and leg continued to throb and sting as constant reminders of the existence and extent of his injuries. The sun was getting low in the sky, a sign that in a couple hours it would be dark. They had to find shelter and the most obvious place would be one of the houses laid out before them.

"Hey." Rick tried to get Carl's attention. "Hey!"

Carl continued to ignore his injured father, however and kept walking. He was prepared to walk past another house when Rick spoke up again.

"Hey!"

Carl stopped and slowly turned around to look at his father as the man finally caught up with him. Rick nodded towards the house they were standing in front of.

"That one's as good as any." Rick declared with laboured breaths.

Silently agreeing, Carl took out his handgun from the holster on his thigh and walked towards the house, closely followed by Rick. When they reached the front door they discovered that it had previously been broken down, the lock splintered. They stood on opposite sides of the doorway as Rick put down their supplies and took out his revolver, wheezing as he did so.

"Quick and quiet." He told Carl, staring at him. "We need to clear it before sundown."

Rick shoulder barged the door as they both quickly stepped into the front room with their guns raised. The room was empty and silent, giving Rick time to close the door behind him as Carl began to venture off to one side of the house. The silence made him feel uneasy, even more so when he couldn't hear his son.

"Carl." He called out but unsurprisingly did not receive an answer.

Rick wheezed as he hauled himself towards the hallway and caught sight of his son who had his gun raised and was walking down the hallway slowly.

"Carl!" He called out again.

"I got it!" Carl finally responded. "All the doors down here are open."

To Rick, that was several doorways that walkers could come out of at the same time and overwhelm him and his son. As injured and weak as he was, along with being a father, a fear of that very thing happening crept into Rick's mind.

"Just stop!" Rick ordered him before Carl could take another step.

Carl lowered his gun and turned around, slamming his fist against the wall.

"Hey asshole!" The boy shouted, his face filled with rage. "Hey shitface!"

"Watch your mouth!" Rick shouted back angrily.

Carl gave him an incredulous look.

"Are you kidding me?" He glared at his father. "If there's one of them down there, they would have come out."

Rick stood in silence. He couldn't think of anything to say as he was struggling to find the energy to stay in control of his son but also because he knew that what Carl had said was true. The house appeared to be free of any walkers. As Carl headed upstairs, Rick entered the kitchen, still with his gun raised as an act of caution but discovered it to be empty as well. He holstered his revolver and closed the fridge door. Carl was right. He searched the kitchen drawers for potential weapons and managed to find three knives.

Carl explored the rooms upstairs but every door that opened revealed an empty, abandoned room. By the looks of things this neighbourhood had been one of the first to evacuate, so only the essentials had been taken and everything else had been left behind. He walked into another room and was amazed at what he saw. The room had obviously belonged to a teenager, the walls painted a dark green but mostly covered in posters. Books, sports clothes and other items littered the floor with a skateboard next to the fireplace. Carl turned around and his eyes widened at the sight before him. A large HD television with an Xbox 360 hooked up to it, the headset balanced on the corner of the television and below it a stack of games cases with a controller. He marvelled at the sight of this artefact from the pre-apocalyptic world before catching sight of his own reflection in the TV screen. Reality came back to him in a flash forcing him to knock some of the games to the floor and take the power cables out of the console and television. They needed something to lock the front door with.

Jason sighed as he continued on his path. He had just crossed over some train tracks and was about to enter what looked like a small neighbourhood. The road was covered with dead leaves and there were no signs of any life. There weren't many cars in view either. He figured most of the residents got out in the early days as the only cars he could see had obviously been involved in crashes, most likely during the initial panic. He remembered those days too vividly for his liking. His stomach growled, a reminder that he hadn't consumed anything the entire day except for a few sips of water and the burning in his legs told him he needed to rest soon. He ran a hand through his hair and observed his surroundings. A ghost town full of undamaged houses.

"I'm spoiled for choice." He muttered to himself and headed towards one of the homes.

Jason approached the front door and turned the handle but it didn't open. The door had been locked by the original owners of the house during the start of the outbreak.

"Figures." He sighed in irritation.

He looked around for any walkers or people. The street was empty. He turned his attention back to the door and kicked the lock with as much force as he could muster in his leg. The lock gave way and broke, the wood of the door splintering as it swung open and banged against the wall. He stepped in and closed the door over but delayed barricading it. There was no way of knowing if the door had been locked from the outside or the inside. The occupants could have all committed suicide and could now be lurking in one of the rooms.

Jason took out his knife from its sheath and held it tightly in his hand. He stepped into the house and started whistling a little tune while listening out for anything out of the ordinary. The house appeared to be completely vacant. Reaching the other side of the house he checked the backdoor but it too was locked. He ascended the staircase and took note to sniff the air but the smell of rotting flesh wasn't present. He stopped at the top of the stairs to find all the bedroom doors open. He continued whistling but there wasn't a sound apart from that. Smiling in success he returned to the front room and barricaded the door with the two couches that were there.

Jason sat back on one of the couches and closed his eyes for a moment, giving himself time to think about things. Here he was in some unknown neighbourhood on the trail of a couple of strangers who could be dangerous. He reminded himself he had nowhere else to be or anywhere planned to go to so he could afford to do this. His stomach growled again, interrupting his thoughts and forcing him to open his eyes. He opened his backpack and pulled a plastic container which contained fresh fruit that he had picked from trees on his way there. He decided to allow himself half of the contents for dinner with the other half for breakfast in the morning. He would need to go on a supply run in the morning too.

Carl used the power cables to tie the door handle to the curtain hook while Rick looked out the windows at the dark street to check for any potential threats.

"Find anything?" He asked his son who ignored him.

"Check the backdoor?" He asked but was ignored again.

Grinding his teeth in irritation he walked over to the far end of the couch and started pushing it towards the door, grunting in pain and effort as his leg and side couldn't supply the strength required to move it.

"I tied the door shut." Carl told him, turning around, annoyed at his father's lack of faith.

Rick peered up at him from behind the couch.

"We don't need to take any chances." He retorted and attempted to push it again.

"You don't think it will hold?" Carl asked.

"Carl…" Rick attempted a retort.

"It's a strong knot. Clove hitch. Shane taught me." Carl glared at his father. "Remember him?"

The mention of that name stabbed right through Rick's heart. Shane had been his best friend, his brother since he was younger than Carl. A man he trusted with his life who ended up trying to steal his family from him and shoot him in the back. He had been forced to kill a man he considered his brother, a man he loved.

"Yeah I remember him. I remember him every day." Rick answered before glaring angrily. "There something else you want to say to me?"

Carl lowered his head so that his hat covered most of his face. Despite his anger he still couldn't find the courage to fully stand up to his father, the boy inside him still holding him back.

Rick continued to glare before growling at Carl. "Help me move the couch!"

Carl, defeated, did as he was told and together they moved the couch into place easily. Despite this, Rick was still wheezing from the effort, his damaged ribs making it difficult to breathe. As he started undoing the buckle on his holster he swapped places with Carl.

"This'll have to do for the night." He told him, his tone cold.

He put his holster on the floor in front of him and sat on the couch. As Carl was organising some things Rick offered him a packet of food.

"You gonna have some?" Carl asked him.

Rick nodded. "You should eat."

"We should save it." Carl quickly retorted.

Rick ignored him and tried to open the packet. He growled in frustration as he couldn't find the strength to open it. Suddenly Carl grabbed the packet out of his hands, opened with ease and threw it back into his father's hands before continuing to set up his sleeping arrangements.

Rick took a bite of the food but winced in pain. The left side of his face was agony as soon as he attempted to chew it. He stood up and walked up behind his son.

"Hey." He got the boy's attention.

Carl spun round and glared at him. "I don't want any."

Rick snarled and threw the packet at him. "Eat it. Now."

Rick walked past his son and headed for the bathroom. Once there he unbuttoned what was left of his shirt and struggled to take it off, wincing in pain at each movement. Once it was off he finally got a look at his badly beaten and blooded face. He cast his gaze down to his left side and wheezed as he took in the dark purple colouration of the skin. He had never broken his ribs before so he was unsure if this was a sign of that or of internal bleeding. Was there inner damage that he had no way to recover from? Was there a chance his injuries could kill him? If that happened he could reanimate during the night and kill Carl as the boy slept. Rick looked back at his reflection and for the first time since he woke up from his coma he felt true fear and vulnerability.

The birds sang a cheerful chorus, a song that was a contradiction to the harsh reality of the new world. For the birds nothing had really changed but for the few people remaining life was now a nightmare filled with hungry monsters. The sky was a clear blue, not a single cloud could be seen for miles allowing the sun to shine over the whole area, illuminating the lush green of the vegetation and making the water of the lake sparkle with its warm rays.

Jason threw a stone, skipping it across the surface of the water. This lake was isolated from any known roads and paths and had some of the clearest water he'd ever seen. Every time he would skip a stone across the surface the fish below would scatter and swim to the safety of deeper water. The birds in the tree branches above him continued to sing their afternoon song which to him always sounded happy no matter what was happening around them.

He took a break from skipping the stones and cupped some of the water in his hands before throwing it over his head, wetting his hair and face in an attempt to cool down under the sun's unrelenting blasts of heat. He lay back on the grass with the back of his head in his hands and stared up at the clear blue sky. Even though the dead had risen and started eating the living, there was nothing but peace at the lake.

"Remember when we used to come here?" His companion beside him spoke. "I mean, before all of this."

Jason continued to look at the sky but a smile did cross his face.

"Yeah, I remember. We used to swim together all the time." He grinned at the memory. "But we can't do that right now. We can't risk the noise."

"Can't risk the noise, or can't risk it ending the way it always did?" Came the suggestive reply.

Jason laughed lightly. "Both."

"Kinda sucks, you know, how we can't have that kind of fun." His companion with disappointment lacing his tone.

Jason turned his head to face them. "No. No it doesn't suck."

His gaze was returned by the person beside him, their blonde hair reflecting the sunlight. "Why not?"

Jason reached out and took one of their hands in his hand. "Because all around us people are dying, the dead have risen to eat the living and the world is over." He explained, giving their hand a squeeze. "But we're here. Together. Right now. That doesn't suck."

"But what if that changes?" They asked him, fear in their voice. "What if something happens?"

Jason squeezed their hand tighter. "Nothing will happen."

"How can you be so sure?"

Jason kissed them softly. "Because I'll always protect you and keep us safe. I promise."

Jason felt heat stinging his face and opened his eyes, squinting as soon as he did so as the sunlight that was streaming through the window attacked his eyes. He covered his face with an outstretched hand before sitting up and stretching with a yawn. He moved his sleeve and looked at his watch. Midday. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He had slept in longer than he anticipated.

"Damn couch was too comfy." He muttered to himself before reaching for his backpack.

Jason pulled out his bottle of water and took his morning drink before opening the plastic container with the fruit inside. As planned he had saved half of the contents as breakfast and wasted no time in consuming the fruit. At least he would have food in him for the rest of the day considering he needed the energy for his supply run. He ran a hand through his hair and attempted to fix it into a reasonable position before finally standing up and clipping on his holster. He sat back down and put his water bottle and now empty plastic container back inside his bag and withdrew the small book again. With his pencil he made another mark on the same page as before and put both items away.

Jason stood up again after tightening the laces on his boots and put his leather jack and gloves back on. He grabbed his backpack and put the strap over his shoulder before moving the two couches so he could open the front door again. As he looked out at the street he felt fortunate. This neighbourhood, for whatever reason, appeared to be almost free of the undead allowing him to relax just a little. He walked out onto the street and took a good look at his surroundings to confirm the impression that the area was deserted. Once he was sure he started walking up the rood, his feet crunching the carpet of leaves that covered the tarmac as he scanned the houses for any signs of life. Despite the silence of the neighbourhood, he never took his hands away from his knife and gun. The pair he had seen the previous day must have stayed here overnight and he hoped they were too injured to have just set off as soon as the sun came up.

As he walked down the street he took in the design of the houses. All of these houses would have fetched good prices back in the days before the apocalypse. Most would have been owned by families with children, with secure mortgages, decent incomes from good jobs, plenty of kids playing in the street with skateboards, bicycles and balls. Christmas time would have transformed the neighbourhood with festive lights and decorations. It would have been a wonderful place to live and grow up in. He felt a stab in his heart as he reminded himself that all of that was gone forever. Now these houses would remain for years to come, slowly falling apart and rotting much like the undead monsters that populated the land before they would collapse and disappear. With the disappearance of those buildings the memories and the people who lived in them would also disappear from history forever.

Two gunshots quickly brought him out of his thoughts. He looked around but couldn't see anyone. A third shot rang out further down the street but was followed by silence. That could be good or bad. Jason took off running towards the source of the gunshots but with so many similar looking houses it was hard to pinpoint which house he needed to go to. After running for a couple minutes he stopped to catch his breath, his eyes quickly scanning the area, looking for any signs of life or death if it turned out that way. He grit his teeth in frustration, the familiar feeling of failure looming over him like a sinister shadow.

That's when he heard it. The faint click and scratch of a window being opened. His eyes scanned the upper floors of the houses until they settled on the right window. He caught a glimpse of the arm of a living person quickly retreat back into the room. With no new gunshots he quickly assumed the person had run out of ammo. Without thinking twice he ran into the house through the front door that had been broken open and headed up the stairs, pulling out his gun as he went.

Jason made it to the top of the stairs just as he heard one of the bedroom doors slam shut. He aimed his gun at the direction of the noise and studied the sight before him. With their back against the door as they tried to catch their breath was a boy. He couldn't be any older than sixteen. He had a gun holster on the right thigh of his jeans but no gun. His dirty top was blue and grey. His long dark hair whipped out from under the sheriff's hat he wore but the most striking thing was that he only had one boot on. Before Jason could make any more observations the boy froze as he finally became aware of Jason's presence. He didn't say anything. His eyes darted to his gun that lay on the floor, too far away to reach quickly. He stared back at Jason with an intense look of fear in his blue eyes.

Sensing that the boy was afraid of him, Jason decided to attempt communication but kept his gun aimed at the boy.

"Hey, kid." He said calmly. "You okay?"

The boy stared at him for a moment, his breath still uneven. "I'm not a kid."

Jason smirked but didn't lower his aim. "Yeah, well you aren't a man yet either."

The boy didn't answer him, unsure of how to respond.

"What's your name?" Jason asked him, trying to keep his tone friendly.

The boy appeared to hesitate for a moment before finally answering. "Carl."

Carl lowered his gaze, hiding his face with his hat like he had done to his father the night before. After the horrible things he had said to his unconscious father that morning, he now wished that Rick could appear to protect him from this stranger who was aiming a gun at him.

"Alright then, Carl." Jason spoke softly. "How old are you?"

Carl hesitated again, unable to predict where these questions were leading. "Fourteen."

Jason nodded to acknowledge the answer while pondering his next question for the boy. He glanced at the door behind Carl, the nametag on the door read "Sam".

"You look tired. What happened?" He asked the teen. "Did you and Sam have a fight?"

Carl looked confused at the mention of the name, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins blocking his memory of the nametag on the door. Noticing his confusion, Jason simplified the question.

"What's behind the door?"

Carl glanced at the door but quickly brought his eyes back to Jason's gun.

"A walker." Was his answer.

Jason had never heard the term walker before but he understood what the boy meant. His eyes scanned the boy's body before asking an important question.

"Were you bit?" His voice threatened to betray his calm appeareance.

Carl shook his head, looking down for a moment.

"No." He answered. "But it got my shoe."

Jason couldn't stop a smile from creeping onto his face. Before he could lower his gun he reminded himself that he needed to know a couple more things.

"You don't look like you've been on the road long." He declared. "Have you got a camp with more people?"

Carl stared back at the young man before him. Though he tried to hide his grief, his eyes betrayed him and forced him to rub the hints of tears on his sleeve.

"No. It's just me and my Dad now." He answered, not looking up.

Jason thought for a moment. "And where's your Dad now? Does he know you're here?"

Carl considered lying to the man but if anything went wrong he would be found out quickly anyway. He remembered that Hershel taught him that honesty was often the best thing and reflected on who a person is.

"No. He's injured." Carl answered slowly. "We're staying in one of the houses down the street."

Jason could tell this was the truth so he finally lowered his gun. This teenager in front of him was one of the figures he had seen enter the woods at the prison. He holstered his gun and smiled, keeping his hands where Carl could see them so as to not arouse suspicion.

"Well, Carl. I'm Jason." He told him, still smiling. "I'm not going to hurt you, I just needed to be sure you weren't going to hurt me."

Carl didn't answer him. This didn't make sense. Most people would have shot him or hurt him by now but this man seemed friendly. Almost too friendly. He watched Jason as he picked up Carl's empty gun and handed it back to him. Carl took the gun back and holstered it.

Jason reached into one of the pockets of his cargos and withdrew a magazine. He handed it to Carl who hesitantly accepted it.

"I think those will fit your Beretta there." Jason told him. "15 rounds, 9x19mm bullets."

Carl nodded and ejected the empty magazine from the gun and reloaded it with the gift from Jason. He still couldn't understand what this guy was doing. Did he really trust him enough to give him a loaded weapon?

Jason gently pushed the teen away from the door.

"Do me a favour and stand back." He told him, reaching for the handle.

"What are you doing?" Carl asked him, confused.

"Getting your shoe."

Jason took out his knife and opened the door. The walker came charging out at him forcing him to jump back. Once the walker's lunge had finished, he kicked the corpse in the knee cap to bring it crashing to the floor. As soon as its head hit the floor he thrust his knife into the skull and killed it. He stood up straight and smiled at Carl before sheathing the knife and grabbing the boot that was lying in the middle of the room.

Carl accepted the return of his shoe with a smile and quickly put it back on his foot.

"Thanks." He said, still feeling uneasy.

"No problem." Jason answered with a smile before his expression changed. "Is your Dad safe where he is?"

Carl thought for a moment before answering. "If he doesn't wake up he should be fine."

Jason accepted this answer. "Then we should get you some food. You look a bit pale."

Jason made his way down the stairs but Carl hadn't moved. This caused Jason to stop half-way down the stairs and look up at the fourteen-year-old.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Why are you helping me?" Carl asked. "What do you want?"

Jason sighed. The boy was stubborn. "Tell you what, you come down here with me and get something to eat. In exchange I'll answer your questions."

Carl considered the proposition before nodding. Just as Jason was about to continue down the stairs Carl spoke up.

"I found some chocolate pudding in the kitchen." He told him. In a childish way he was trying to claim it as his.

Jason thought for a moment and glanced at one of the open bedroom doors. He pointed at one of them which had a window facing out onto the street.

"See that window through there?" He asked Carl, who took a look. "Climb out it onto the roof and wait for me there."

"Why?" Carl asked, confused again.

"It's easier to eat without the smell of a rotting corpse next to you." Jason told him, gesturing to the dead walker. "And it lets us keep a lookout for danger or your Dad."

Carl accepted this answer and walked into the bedroom and carefully climbed out the window. As he waited for Jason to join him, he kept his hand on his gun in case all of this was an elabourate trick to make him drop his guard.

However, Jason came out onto the roof a few minutes later with Carl's bag of supplies in one hand and the can of pudding in the other. They both sat on the rooftop with their legs dangling over the side and looked out onto the abandoned street. Carl opened the can and started taking spoonfuls of pudding, his tastebuds jumping at the sweet taste. This was a taste he had almost forgotten.

Without being prompted, Jason decided to answer Carl's questions.

"I've been alone for six months now." He told the teen. "When it's just you and the dead, you start to miss human contact."

"What happened to the people you knew?" Carl asked him in between mouthfuls of pudding.

"They all died." Jason answered simply, not wanting to give details just yet.

Carl didn't push the question, having just lost everyone he cared about apart from his father, he knew how it felt and could only imagine how much harder it was being alone. As he studied Jason's face, he realised that this man was a lot younger than he originally thought and couldn't been any older than twenty.

"I know you were living at that prison." Jason stated. "I heard the battle and saw you and your dad escaping into the woodland."

Carl stayed silent as the dots started to connect.

"I saw that you were vulnerable and tried to catch up to you both." He told the boy, looking away. "I didn't want to be alone anymore."

"But we could have been dangerous." Carl told him, remembering how dangerous the Governor had turned out to be.

"That's why I aimed this at you for a while." Jason told him, pulling out his Springfield Armory TRP Operator handgun. "But you seem like a good guy so I didn't shoot you."

Carl watched as he holstered the gun again. "When my Dad wakes up, he'll want to talk to you." He told the young man. "Find out if you're a threat."

"I can handle that." Jason told him before lying back to look up at the sky as Carl continued to eat. "But for now, let's enjoy the peacefulness of the afternoon."

Carl seemed to agree and continued eating the pudding before he stopped, looking at the half empty can.

"Do you want some?" He asked Jason, suddenly feeling quite selfish.

"What?" Jason asked, having been lost in his thoughts for a moment.

"Do you want some pudding?" Carl asked again.

"No thanks. You've been through a lot today." Jason replied with a smile. "You have it."

Carl resumed his eating as Jason continued to look up at the sky. It was a beautiful afternoon with a clear blue sky. Scanning the sky he couldn't see a single cloud for miles.

"I'll always protect you and keep us safe. I promise."

So this fanfic idea just came to me recently. I've been working on a different story but this was one idea that wouldn't stop nagging my creative side. So I decided to start it and it has managed to write itself in 2 days. I originally planned to end this chapter at the ending of "After" but this point felt much more natural for some reason.

This story will follow the series closely but I will also go off in different tangents as the drama unfolds. I hope my character, Jason, is of interest to you all as readers.

Leave a review if you've read this far ^^