10:14 a.m. and Carl arrives at his house in record time to find his parents' cars still at home. He remains in shock from his recent attack. His body quivers with the imprint around his neck, as he exits his car and stumbles his way inside. A dead silence lingers within the house as Carl begins his search; its emptiness surrounding with every door he locks. His concern builds with each disappointment as he desperately tries to find his parents.
Ten minutes fly by and still no sign of Carl's mother or father. He's searched everywhere with the exception of his backyard, which he will not even bother, considering that his dog 'Mountain' is out there.
"Best not to take the chance," he thinks, seeing as how his luck with animals hasn't been very good today.
After finally sealing every entrance, Carl heads towards his bedroom at the far end of the house. His door remains locked like always which is a good sign, and as he makes his way inside he catches a glance of himself in the mirror.
Carl's body still trembles as his neck and scrub top remain stained with blood, along with his jeans which is probably due to the crazed old man or Dr. Kibbs. He slowly strips down to his blue pinstriped boxers and turns on his television and laptop, using the inside of his scrubs to now smear the blood off his body.
The television displays nothing but static and rainbow colored bars that bring about a painful pitch in his ears. The laptop however, continues to boot up as Carl stares at his reflection in the mirror.
He looks frightened. His eyes widely opened to their fullest reveal the blue that makes up his irises. His brown hair remains well kept with the occasional strand that sticks up; in contrast to the dirt that now occupies his face. The blood wiped from his neck now turns his light skin slightly darker, while a few spots still lie etched upon his soft chest.
Carl's breathing remains shallow as he logs into his laptop, and to his disappointment the wireless internet refuses to respond. He tries many attempts to find a connection but ends up failing. He can only assume that the servers must be down, and it isn't until then that he notices that his cell phone no longer has reception.
He is completely cut off.
The filth crusting his body is now unbearable as Carl grabs a towel and heads to his bathroom. While letting hot water runoff the shower, he attempts to call 911 from the house phone. Like before, he is forced to endure a continuous ring without any response.
Steam slowly begins to fill the bathroom and fog the mirror as Carl eases into the shower. Its warmth, along with the water running down his back, gets him to relax, as if put in some sort of trance by the shower. He wastes no time as he douses myself with soap and begins to vigorously scrub. While washing away all the left over blood off his body, he watches it casually smear like oil mixing with water.
The intense heat eventually begins to increase his blood flow as Carl now become overwhelmed with warmth. It's as if he could slowly feel his blood boil within him.
He starts to wonder where his parents are at and if they are alright? It's not like them to up and disappear, and yet them being gone makes him realize that something's gone terribly wrong. He can't help but fear the worst for them as he pulls his face up towards the shower to wash the pain away.
Suddenly, a loud crash is heard as the bathroom door breaks open, Carl's trance soon disrupted by the arrival of a new threat. He remains startled with his back against the wall of the shower, as he unwillingly faces the dark figure ahead, forced to stare at a pair bloody handprints pound and smear on the sliding glass door to his left.
The horror from his vulnerability now brings an unsought paralysis. His eyes then shut as glass sprays before him followed by an outreached arm, covering him yet again in blood. Its fingers bleed and remain punctured as it desperately tries to reach him, causing Carl to now look ahead.
Soon the sight of the blurred figure behind the glass begins to throw its head back, forcing Carl to step as far as he can towards the sliding glass door to his right. His will, although broken, still provides him with the nerve to move.
Within moments, more glass shatters as a head smashes through the door to his left. The terror he feels holds no bounds as Carl then recognizes his father's face, his expression maddening as he smiles. His father, now covered in blood, sheds the same crazed look that Carl's encountered twice today.
Carl now screams s as he watches his father's neck rub against the broken glass. Its edges dig deep into his flesh as he struggles to breakthrough. Carl takes a leap of faith as he grabs the glass door to his right and slides it open, causing his father to get trapped in-between the two doors. He quickly jump out of the shower to get around his father as he screams and breaks free, leaving trails blood and fragments of flesh stuck upon the glass.
Now fearing for his life, Carl runs down the hall and into the kitchen, dripping wet and completely nude, followed closely by the echoing screams. The sound of which is beginning to feel all too familiar.
In a state of panic, Carl pulls out two large kitchen knives from a nearby drawer to arm himself with. The cold air within the house brushing against his damp and naked body finally catches up with him, as he stands with a knife in each hand and waits for his father's next move.
With his teeth chattering Carl begins to feel his eyes flood with tears, as he knows all too well what is going to happen next. Then he sees him, madly running down the hall in uniform while heading straight towards him, the screams now mixed with laughter.
Carl yells and begs for him to stop as he draws near, only to find himself stabbing his father with both knives as he tackles him to the floor, the badge of Rick Grimes now pressing firmly against his chest. His assault on his father, a police officer and man of the law, is now very real.
While on his back Carl comes face to face with his father, the two knives impaling him are all that stand between them. Blood and saliva drips from Rick's mouth and onto Carl's neck and chin as he grabs a hold of his son's head. Carl quickly recognizes the smell, which is that of rotting flesh and blood that seeps as Rick forcefully pulls his head back.
His father is a big man, and although average in height, he makes up for it in mass.
He overpowers Carl easily.
As Carl struggles to break free, his leg carelessly slips which causes Rick's knee to smash his groin against the tile floor. The sharp and unbearable pain instantly rushes and fills his body with rage.
Now furious, Carl twists the knives within his father's stomach so that they don't move, and pushes him off. The excruciating pain still lingers as he pulls myself up and grabs his crotch in hopes to numb the pain. All the while Rick gets back on his feet and lunges at Carl once more. With only the extreme pain fueling him, Carl reaches for the knives embedded in his father's gut and throws him aside, causing Rick to fall back onto the floor.
A memory flashes before Carl of a time he stole his father's gun while camping with some friends. The thought of which gives him purpose, as he now storms into his parents' room and lock the doors behind him.
Carl frantically opens Rick's sock drawer and scrambles through everything inside, revealing the Colt Python .357 Magnum. It lies before him waiting, beckoning him name while followed closely by the screams.
As Carl pulls it out, he gets a feel for its weight and gets reacquainted. Its intimidating shine helps soothe his fear as Rick suddenly breaks through, forcing him to take aim. While hoping to God that it's loaded, Carl trembles to hold it up as he opens fire.
He instantly takes Rick down with two shots to his right leg, feeling the unexpected recoil of the magnum's blast. Still in shock, his body overwhelms him with hesitation as he trembles with fear.
Carl slowly steps back as Rick continues to drag himself towards him, his right hand constantly clutching at the wind. Still hell bent on killing him, the knives embedded in Rick's gut pull their way further down and begin tearing him open. Carl holds the magnum with both hands to keep it steady, yet it still trembles, and with his eyes flooded with tears, he aims for his father's face.
His hesitation builds with each passing second, creating fear and doubt as Carl now closes his eyes, thinks of a better place, and squeezes the trigger.
Carl opens his eyes to see what remains of Rick lying before him, his body surrounded by blood and fragments of his skull.
He lies there⦠lifeless, his blood absorbed by the white carpet around him. His face is no longer recognizable by the .357 round that completely disfigured him. Carl drops to his knees and begins to sob, trying to hold back the tears in front of his father even though he's dead. As he sits there, now wet and streaked with blood, sobbing while still naked, he makes an attempt to pull himself together.
After awhile Carl has no more tears to spare as he pulls himself up. He can't help but wonder how someone could still be moving after getting stabbed in the stomach twice, let alone getting shot in the leg. He comes to realize that the only thing that stopped Rick was a bullet to the head.
The pain from his crotch has greatly subsided as Carl is relieved to see that no serious damage is done. The fear of it all begs him to move, as he comes to find only three more bullets left in Rick's sock drawer, which he takes for his own.
Carl now walks to his room again, leaving a trail of bloody foot prints behind while replacing the three missing rounds in his magnum. His sadness overwhelms his current pain as he feels the sudden craving for a cigarette. Once inside, Carl closes the door to his room and tosses the gun on his bed, using another towel to smear the blood off him yet again.
He can't help but think about what has happened and what he's done. He just killed a man. He killed his father. He questions if there was anything different he could have done, although all scenarios point to the same conclusion. Rick's attack was rabid and fierce, his intent made clear by his mere gaze. Carl's imagination runs wild with the possibilities of what it all means. It all happened so fast that he's surprised it turned out the way it did.
A quick and dreadful end to what should have been an everlasting bond.
No longer feeling safe at his house, Carl makes a plan to find somewhere to lay low. The severity of it all seems unreal and only encourages his denial. He now very slowly slides on a pair of blue jeans along with a black undershirt, preparing his leave as he grabs his camping bag from the closet. He makes sure pack the essentials within his bag: a few extra pairs of pants, two white and black undershirts, thermals, socks, boxers, tooth paste, tooth brush, soap, and his leather jacket.
As Carl walks into the garage he sees Rick's red V8 Silverado waiting quietly in the darkness. Not a second passes that Carl decides to ditch his shitty compact and claim the truck as his own. He then opens its door to find its keys laying for him inside. Relieved that he won't have to visit his father's corpse again, he begins loading his camping bag in the truck along with a case of bottled waters.
While back in his room, Carl picks up Rick's gun and takes a moment to examine it. His brown hair now hangs low off his head as he holds back the demise of his father. His untimely end at his hands makes Carl not want to think about his mother. The thought of Lori becoming crazed and trying to kill him is unimaginable, for Carl doesn't think he would have it in him to fight her off. Which now makes him question as to why this is happening? How his old man could attack him with such rage?
Two cigarettes are now left in his pack as Carl sparks one up and sits on his bed, wondering as to what to do next. The buzz of nicotine rushes up his head as he stands and wedges the magnum in-between his belt. He prepares his leave like he would any other day in an attempt to maintain his sanity. He grabs his wallet, applies some deodorant, puts on his black wrist watch, and takes his phone.
While back in his father's truck, Carl starts up the engine and opens the garage door. Its unlubricated track screeches as its steel frame slowly lifts and sheds light to the darkness around him.
12:05 p.m. and as he backs out of my driveway, Carl endures the sound of static from the stereo. He thinks of how irritating this will eventually become, and as he puts the truck in park, he remembers that his MP3 player is still in his car.
While leaving the engine running, Carl hops out and walks into the garage and back towards his room again. Once inside, he puts out his cigarette and grabs the car keys that remain on his bed. While taking a moment to look through his bedroom window, he stops in horror at what lies await.
Carl's eyes deceive him as he reluctantly stares at Jimmy, the six year old boy that lives next door, now sluggishly walking towards his truck. Just like the old man, the boy walks off balance, only this time he drags a large red fire axe behind him. In hopes that he doesn't go after his tires, Carl rushes out of his room and back into the garage.
Without giving a second thought, Carl draws the boy's attention as the door slams shut behind him. Unaware of what he fears most, the child or what might transpire, the vivid imagery of what Carl's witnessed now takes its toll as Jimmy slowly walks towards him.
Slight twitches force his head to jerk to the left as he continues to drag the axe behind him. The boy's pace quickens as Carl call his name, the sound of the axe dragging now intensifying. His face is completely covered with dry blood, which abruptly chips away as his head randomly twitches.
With his right hand, Carl holds on to the magnum wedged within his belt, unwillingly bracing himself as the boy approaches the garage door.
His body freezes again.
Unable to force himself to shoot the boy, Carl continues to shout at Jimmy to put the axe down. The boy's black eyes with surrounding redness begin to bring back bad memories, visions of the hell he's encountered so far. While now five feet away Jimmy screams and grabs the axe behind him, holding it with both hands as he maintains eye contact, and swings.
Carl's reflexes kick in as he leans back and feel the clean swipe of the air getting sliced inches from his face. The boy's upward swing leaves him vulnerable as Carl quickly kicks him to the ground. Now screaming, Jimmy continues to struggle and grab at Carl's leg while he has him pinned to the floor, his eyes never seeming to leave his sight.
Within his efforts, Carl slowly reaches down and picks up the axe with his right hand while keeping the boy at bay. His resemblance is no longer that of the kid who played soccer in front of his house. Hate and fury are all that is expressed as Carl raises the axe high over his head.
The boy's screams are now cut short. He falls silent by the heel of the axe that Carl brought down upon his face, eliminating all sense of consciousness in the boy. Whatever madness has befallen the world seems to have sunken low enough to effect children, an atrocity to the fact that Jimmy was so young and innocent.
While almost forgetting why he's outside, Carl quickly unlocks his car and grabs his MP3 player from the center console.
He can't help but question if he should lock Jimmy up somewhere, as he takes a moment to observe the boy. Looking far less threatening now that he is unconscious, Carl can't help but feel remorse for him. He thinks about doing the humane thing and putting the boy out of his misery. Similar to his old job where he or Dr. Kibbs would put an old dog or cat to sleep that no longer had the will to live. Nevertheless, he cannot and will not bring myself to kill the boy.
After placing his newly acquired axe in the passenger seat of Rick's truck, Carl continues to back out of the driveway. While coasting through his neighborhood, he drives in hopes to find someone who hasn't gone insane, desperately looking for answers, yet realizing that he's dangerously low on gas.
The streets remain empty as Carl slowly drives towards the gas station near his house, in hopes that his presence goes unnoticed. Within three miles he arrives, only to find himself feeling more alone than ever.
Evidence of chaos and unforeseen panic litters the streets along with the gas station he pulls into. A vast wreckage covers the entire parking lot of the plaza ahead. A sea of cars smashed against one another remains abandoned with a few of their doors left ajar.
Carl pulls up to pump number seven and slide his credit card through its automated cashier. While pumping gas, he can't help but stare at the large convenience store beyond the sea of wrecked cars ahead. Its ruins, although near, failed to reach the gas station as its distance lies across the plaza. The cluster of vehicles creates a sort of maze that reveals only a few openings within the parking lot. Beyond the metallic labyrinth lies John's Club, a large fortress like store which towers over the cars below.
Fearing the odds of running into another crazed person, Carl begins to make my way towards the gas station. While leaving the truck to fill up with fuel, he stares up at the cloudy purple sky which glooms above. Their longing for sunlight now matches his despair.
As Carl approaches the entrance, a pair of automated glass doors calmly slide open to reveal a trail of blood. His heart races at the sight that leads towards the cashier's desk to his right. He treads lightly once he enters the store and steadies his breathing, pulling out his magnum while now following the blood. Shredded magazines and broken potato chips litter the floor as he carefully scan his surroundings. The randomness of the destruction around him is without purpose, for if it had one, it was to merely make a mess of things.
As Carl reaches the cashier's counter, he makes his way around and become stunned at what lies on the floor.
Nausea hits him again as Carl comes to find a pair of legs torn from its occupant's body. The grotesque sight fills him with terror. He takes a closer look to see that it is the waist and bottom half of a woman, for its torso and upper body are nowhere to be found. Red velvet high heels are all that occupies the naked limbs as they lie sprawled out before him. The sight, although revolting, seems less threatening as he slowly steps towards them and lowers his aim.
The floor remains covered in blood which has clotted and formed a gelatin that gets dragged along his shoes. While trying his hardest not to pay attention to what lies below, Carl starts to grab cartons of cigarettes and sets them on the counter behind him. With a plastic bag he begins to place his supplies inside, as he now stand with the corpse's limbs spread across his feet. He gathers about twenty lighters and a lot of gum and places them in his bag, and takes a moment to look out the window to see that his truck is still waiting outside.
Blood slowly smears down his pants as Carl feels something wet and warm rub up against him. His jaw suddenly locks and he begins trembling again, as he now fears what he is feeling. Carl looks down and becomes stricken with horror to find the severed legs and hips grinding up and down his left leg. It movements are slow yet vigorous as its hips gain momentum. Its blood splattered thighs begin to squeeze and hug on his leg, its desire slowly causing its calf to wrap around his. The moisture he feels is warm as well as cool, its skin hot from the friction while its excrements remain cold.
Unable to bear it any longer, Carl vomits on the naked limbs and kicks them aside, causing them to slide across the floor near the wall a few feet away. The woman's torn waist struggles to get up as he watches its legs spread and lift in the air. The sight and pigmentation of its ulcerated thighs and vulva causes him to vomit again.
With a loud clank it plants its high heels on the bloody floor and attempts to raise its hips at him, unable to maintain as it slips uncontrollably. While wiping the vomit off his chin, Carl grabs his bag and runs over to the refrigerators to get some water. Unable to stop from dry heaving, the accumulating vomit never ends and causes him to run out of the store.
The sound of the naked limbs struggling is heard as he makes his escape. While setting his bag of supplies in Rick's truck, Carl quickly replace the gas pump and start up the engine. He begins breathing heavily as his widened eyes reflect off the rearview mirror. His stomach feels scrambled as the thought of being molested again by half a woman runs through his mind.
Carl soon realizes that it doesn't take a genius to know what he's up against. He's seen plenty of horror films and if these people aren't the living dead, then he's completely lost his mind. Yet he can't help but wonder why this is happening and most importantly, why he's still alive? He questions if it is possible that he could have slept through all the chaos that was happening Sunday night? He remains stuck with questions without answers, and now forced to admit that his family is truly dead.
