Chapter 2: Bristling Rocks

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead." Wilmur said, playing with Carl's hair.

Carl grunted and buried his face in Wilmur's chest. He wished he could stay with Wilmur all day. He liked it much better than farming all day with no break. His father was about to get him in trouble. Once he realizes Carl isn't in his bunker, he'll be angry.

"Wake up, beautiful."

"Can't we just stay here?" Carl's voice was muffled into Wilmur's chest.

Wilmur sighed and gently stroked Carl's soft hair. He wanted to stay with him just as much as Carl wanted to stay with him. No one really understood how much they needed each other. Rick especially. He expected Carl to do work all day and be exhausted by the time he got back. Wilmur hated how much Carl was exhausted by the end of the day. If he could talk to Rick about reducing Carl's work hours, then he would look much better at the end of the day.

"Please..." Carl pleaded.

The older lover sighed again and gently pushed Carl off him. It would be a long and exhausting day. First, he had to try and convince Daryl to keep him out of the next run. Then he has to talk to Rick about Carl's work hours which would lead to an argument. And he also has to deal with Patrick.

Patrick.

The stupid teenage boy who touched Carl...pushed him against the wall and tried to force him to do things. Wilmur would never do those things to Carl! Not unless Carl wanted it!

But Carl doesn't want it. He wasn't ready. Wilmur can accept it, but Patrick can't. Nor he can accept him and Carl being together. He was like one of those happy, yet desperate rapist. Carl was his! And if Patrick can't see it, then he'll make him.

"I'm sorry, but we have to go. Tonight, I promise I'm all yours." Wilmur reassured, placing his lips against Carl's before gently stroking his cheek. "I'm gonna talk to Patrick today. Unless you want me to kill him."

Carl gave his head a shake against Wilmur's neck. "N-no. It's fine."

Wilmur smiled, wrapping an arm around Carl's waist and pulling him up. "Come on, let's go."

Carl sighed. "Oh, shit. M-my dad..."

The older lover smiled and placed his lips against Carl's cheek. Rick was very strict toward Carl when it came to working. Carl may understand what his father was doing but Wilmur didn't. Carl wasn't a child and never will be again. They've both went through too many horrors to be a child. There was no such thing as an adult or child anymore. It's just about people surviving.

Rick couldn't see it. He couldn't see or accept his son wasn't a child no more.

"Don't worry, I'll take the blame." Wilmur reassured, still smiling.

"My dad's gonna kill you." Carl joked, giggling slightly.

Wilmur smiled and chuckled, ruffling Carl's hair. "I can handle Rick. Same thing with Patrick. You just worry about yourself."

Carl smiled and leaned in, capturing Wilmur's lips.

The kiss was gentle and innocent at first, but grew stronger and stronger. The taste of their lips sent a warmth traveling through all their blood veins and vessels. The hunger grew stronger, but nothing could satisfy it. It just made them want more and more. The kiss grew too strong that it caused Wilmur to push Carl gently up against the wall.

The younger lover gripped onto Wilmur's hair while Wilmur gripped onto Carl's waist. Their tongues were in a wrestling match, taking away their breaths. Eventually, Wilmur pulled away so they could both breathe, but only wanted more. Carl whined and leaned in again. Only for Wilmur to dodge and kiss Carl's neck instead.

"We have to go." Carl gasped, still out of breath.

The two lovers kiss one last time on their swollen lips before walking out of their 'secret spot.' Wilmur smiled and took Carl's hand into his as they walked into cellblock C. Rick was in the room, his back against the hard wall. Frustration was visible in his eyes. The frown was enough to tell them Rick was angry.

Rick snapped his head up when he heard footsteps. Wilmur and Carl were standing in the cell way. Both of their lips were swollen and their hands were holding each others.

"Where have you been?" Rick asked Carl angrily.

"I-um...I..." Carl bowed his head down shamefully. It seemed like everything he does disappointed his father.

"It was my fault." Wilmur defended Carl. "I took him somewhere in the prison and we got lost."

Rick squinted his eyes toward Wilmur. They've discovered every spot in the prison. How could they get lost? Wilmur was obviously defending for his son.

"Oh, really?" Rick questioned. He was testing Wilmur to tell the truth.

"Yes." Wilmur lied.

Rick glared at Wilmur and then his son. They were both lying, and he hated lies. All they led to was trouble. So many people had lied to him in the past. Some of the loved ones and some of the hated ones. Lori had lied to him about Shane. The Governor did. People they've run across while on the road.

The entire world was filled with nothing but lies.

Rick softened his eyes when he looked at his son. "Carl, can you please go get ready?"

Once Carl left the room, his eyes glared again. Wilmur was glaring, too. The glare in Rick's eyes immiedently told Wilmur an another argument was to come.

"You know I hate liars." Rick said, taking a menacing step toward Wilmur.

"It wasn't a lie." Wilmur replied. "I was defending for Carl over something stupid you would get him in trouble for."

Rick glared. "He knows he's suppose to get up for work every morning. I have every right to punish Carl."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Wilmur questioned. "Have you taken a look at Carl? He's exhausted. He overworks himself way too much. You need to give him a break."

Rick gave his head a shake. It was his decision with what to do with Carl. Wilmur couldn't decide it. Michonne couldn't decide it. If he wanted Carl to work in the fields then he wanted Carl to work in the fields. No one was allowed to tell him otherwise. Hershel would agree. It was his idea for Carl to work in the fields.

"Hershel wants him in the fields. That's his job." Rick said, still glaring.

"Who cares what he says?! You're his father! Not Hershel!" Wilmur yelled.

"Yeah, that's right." Rick agreed. "And I want him in the fields."

"So you want to keep exhausting Carl?" Wilmur questioned. "He's tired, Rick. I know you want him to be a child, but he's tired. At least give him some days off. He can't work all the time, you know?"

Rick kept glaring. He hated when someone told him what to do with his son. Carl's job was to work in the fields and he had to do it. Each of them had a job to do. Each of them made the prison a better place. Carl couldn't be missing out on the job. If his son was so tired, he wanted to hear it from him.

All Wilmur wanted was for Carl to live happily. Working too hard everyday wouldn't make him happy. Carl even sprained some of his bones because he works too hard. Being hurt was the last thing they needed.

"You're just gonna have to deal with it, Wilmur. In the real world, you don't get a breath."

Wilmur shot a glare toward Rick. He knew what Rick said was true, but he was torturing his son. He wasn't trying to survive, he was being tortured by his own father.

"No, Rick. You're torturing him. Take a look at him and then you'll understand." Wilmur said with a frustrated tone. Rick was just too stubborn. He always thought he was right. If Rick has an idea, he'll go for it. Nothing will stop him or change his mind. Even if it was causing someone pain.

"I'm not torturing him. He's just doing his job."

Wilmur sighed with frustration. "You're not always right, Rick."

"You're not either."

Wilmur sighed again and put the back of his head against the hard wall. He couldn't get Rick to listen. He was just too filled of himself. Once Rick thought he was right, there was nothing anyone could do to change what he thought. If Rick thought it was right for Carl to work too hard in the field, well, then that is what he thought.

It was like his ex-boyfriend. Kevin always thought he was right. Wilmur always believed him to be right, too. If Kevin thought something was right, Wilmur thought it was right. He never disagreed with Kevin until the day he posted a picture of him and Kevin sleeping together.

"I know, but at least I can accept it." Wilmur replied.

Rick growled and took another step. Wilmur crossed him arms and glared. He wasn't scared of Rick. If he hurt Wilmur, Carl would be angry. Yet, if Wilmur hurt Rick, Carl would still get angry. He hated it when his loved ones fought. They both thought they were right. Even though Wilmur can admit when he was wrong, if they both thought they were right, they would argue.

"I can accept what I've done wrong." Rick argued. "I've done it with a lot of people. Some are dead."

It was true. Rick was able to admit when he was wrong sometimes. He did with Lori. He did with his speech he made after the farm tore apart. There was many things Rick regretted. Same with Wilmur. He regretted dating Kevin. He regretted turning into Justin. Both of them had their hard times before and during the apocalypse.

"Don't you have a run to do?" Rick questioned, glaring at Wilmur.

"I don't have to go." Wilmur argued.

"You have a job to do, and you have to go." Rick argued back.

Daryl never actually forced Wilmur to go on runs with him. He asked him to, but he never forced him to go. If Wilmur didn't want to go, then Daryl would be okay with it. He felt his son was safer with him no matter where they went, but Wilmur didn't have to go. Wilmur would be safe whether at the prison or with Daryl.

Wilmur crossed his arms. "I think Daryl would disagree."

Wilmur actually called Daryl 'dad.' However, he called him 'Daryl' when he was with other people so no one would get mixed up with his real father and adoptive father. When he was directly talking to Daryl, he'd call him 'dad.' Daryl never minded though. He was just happy to have a kid.

"Then I'll talk to him." Rick said, still glaring. "I've known Daryl longer than you."

"Yeah, I know." Wilmur said, glaring as well. "But Daryl and Carl known me longer than you have."

"Alright, listen! Carl's job is to work in the fields. It's his job and he's ordered to do it! There's nothing you can do about it! Okay, Wilmur?!" Rick yelled.

Wilmur just glared. Rick never understood a word he says. Rick was just too 'right.'

"You know what, you're right. Maybe there's nothing I can do about it, but you can. I can't stop Carl's exhaustion, but you can. It's up to you to give Carl some rest. If Carl overworks himself, it's your fault."

"Just stop! It isn't my fault! Carl's just a hard worker! I should be proud for it! Not sorry!"

"So you should be proud that you're exhausting, Carl? Yes, Carl's a hard worker but he's working too hard. I'm telling you, Carl's exhausted. All you need to do is take one, good easy look at him."

"He's my son! Quit telling me what to do with him!" Rick yelled.
"I'm not! I'm doing it because I'm worried about him!" Wilmur yelled back.
"Well, you can stop! It's my job to worry about him!"
"I care for him, too, you know?! I have every right to worry about him!"

"You don't need to worry about him!" Rick yelled.

"Yes, I do! I told you to take a look at him! I'm not asking you to give him some rest for no reason!"

"I told you to-" Rick cut himself off when Carl walked in with fresh cloths on.

Carl stared at the two. They were both obviously arguing. They were glaring and growling at each other. But he was used to it. All Rick and Wilmur ever managed to do together was argue. They always disagreed on stuff. If Wilmur said something, Rick would say the opposite. It would take Carl to end they're argument.

Both of them glanced at Carl. Wilmur's eyes softened while Rick's didn't. Wilmur's eyes always softened at the sight of his lover. Just his presence being there is what can calm Wilmur down. However, with Rick, it took forever for him to calm down. And Carl, it would take Wilmur's arms to calm him down...just like the night terrors.

Wilmur sighed and walked to Carl, pressing his lips to his. "I'll see you later."

Carl nodded and followed after his father slowly. His legs were trembling from the lack of rest, but he forced himself to keep going. However, Wilmur noticed his trembling legs and sighed. Maybe he could help Carl with farming today.

"Hey." Wilmur said, causing Carl to turn around. "Don't work so hard today. And if Patrick comes by, walk away."

Carl nodded and continued walking while Rick squinted his eyes at Wilmur.

"What about Patrick?" Rick asked.

Wilmur glared. "Just go."

Rick growled, but listened. Carl sighed and followed after his father. If Rick was in a bad mood, it wouldn't be a good day. Arguments between Rick and Wilmur always put Rick in a bad mood.

As soon as Carl stepped a foot outside, he was already sweating. It was one of the hottest summers he's ever been through. Everyday, he had to work through terrible heat with no rest and barely any water. By the end of the day, he would be dyhrated. He can remember how dyhrated and hot he was going back in the prison one day.

Carl stared at himself in a reflection of a water puddle. His entire body was dark red. Drips of sweat were dripping down his red face like a river. Sweat was soaking all over his shirt. His skin stung as if it was a sunburn. His lips and tongue were really dry due to the lack of water. He mourned for water to be poured all over him. He wished for it to land on his red skin and dry mouth.

The young teen whined and dropped the shovel, sitting on the soil and burying his face in his knees. He was desperately trying to block the sun from greeting his red face. However, he got too hot, he had to take off his over shirt. The sun immiedently steamed his exposed skin, creating another sunburn.

He was exhausted. He was forced to do labor all day in the strong heat. If only he could sneak back inside. Maybe he could get some water and then come back out. But his father would be mad at him. His motto was to work and take care of everyone. He was taking care of everyone, but he wasn't taking care of himself.

His body could barely handle the heat. Back at Hershel's farm it was easier because there was water and he could go back inside to the air conditioning. But...it wasn't like that at the prison. At the prison, it was work or do forced work.

"Carl?" Rick said, walking up to see his son in his knees. Rick furrowed his eyebrows and put down his bucket full of vegetables and meat. He walked over to his son and bent in front of him. "Are you crying?"

The father pushed Carl's chin up to see his sweaty and red face. All of his skin was dripping sweat and turning to a darker shade of red every second. His lips were really chapped and his entire body was shaking. He was going through a heatstroke.

"Shit, Carl." Rick said, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling his son up. "We need to get you inside."

Carl whined when his father touched his sunburned skin. His legs trembled and threatened to give out. If it wasn't for his father holding him, he would've already collapsed. He was too dyhrated and too weak. If Wilmur saw him like this, he'd yell at Rick. Luckily, he was still on his run with Daryl and his run team.

The father and son walked slowly inside the prison. Carl nearly collapsed to the ground, but his father catched him before he could hit the hard floor. Rick grunted as he tried to lift his son's body. Carl got the message and wrapped his legs around Rick's waist and his arms wrapped around Rick's neck. He closed his eyes and rested his head against Rick's neck.

"Hershel?" Rick said, stepping into Hershel's cell.

The old man had been talking to his youngest daughter, Beth. She had a sleeping Judith in her lap. Judith's head was buried in Beth's chest and her eyes were closed. Her breathing was even and she was sleeping peacefully. However, she stirred awake and began crying when she noticed the condition her brother was in.

"What happened?" Hershel asked when he noticed Carl was in Rick's arms.

Beth shifted Judith in her lap before getting up and off the bunker bed so Rick could lay Carl on it. Gently, Rick laid Carl on the soft bunk. Black sags were visible under his blue eyes. He was already half asleep. It made it easier for Hershel to examine Carl.

Hershel placed his hand over Carl's red, sweaty forehead. He made his way over to a bucket with water and placed a washrag in it. He squeezed the extra water out of it before hopping back to Carl and wiping the sweat off his face. Rick handed Hershel a water bottle and he placed it in Carl's mouth.

"He needs to cool off." Hershel said, still washing the sweat of his face.

Carl winced at how harsh the wash rag was dragging against his sensitive face. However, the water helped a lot even though it wasn't ice cold. The feeling of water landing against his dry taste buds refreshed him.

Hershel wetted the washrag again before wiping it against Carl's arms. His red arms were more sensitive than his red face. Carl pulled away from Hershel's grip and hissed. It stung and burned. Couldn't they just put him in the cold showers in the prison. The showers in the prison were always cold. It would definitely help his sunburned skin.

"Can't I just get in the cold shower?" Carl whined sleepily. He was hardly awake. He felt like passing out.

"We need to get your sweating to stop first." Hershel replied.

Another water bottle is placed in his mouth. His fast beating heart slowly paced down back to a normal speed. His breathing evened better while his lungs pushed out the asthma. The red skin was unable to contain it's normal color, but his dyhration managed to calm down. His body had stopped exhaustion grew stronger, but he needed his sleep. He hardly got any sleep in the passed two weeks. His entire body was overworked.

Carl sighed and closed his eyes again, picturing Wilmur. He was thankful Wilmur hadn't seen him in this condition. An argument would rise between Rick and Wilmur. His lover had always argued with Rick when it came to stuff like this. It wasn't just so he could spend time with Carl. He cared for him and wanted him to be healthy.

Carl's almost asleep when a third water bottle is placed in his mouth. He didn't expect it, causing the water to go down the wrong hole. The young teen coughed up the water, but Hershel placed the water bottle back in his mouth to stop the choking. Some water still spilled from his mouth, but he eventually obeyed and let the water slip down his throat.

Judith's cries stopped when she noticed Carl was drinking water calmly. She was always able to sense when someone's in trouble and when someone's okay. She and Carl hardly got to see each other, but she still knew who he was.

"Beth, can you wipe the washrag against him?" Hershel asked, keeping the water bottle in place.

Beth gave a nod and handed baby Judith to Rick before taking the washrag and letting the water soak into Carl's sensitive skin. Meanwhile, Rick was standing in the cell way. Carl was perfectly okay at the beginning of the day and suddenly when he came back, Carl was badly sunburned and dyhrated.

Rick sighed and walked away from the cell and stared out the window. The sun was setting and the sky was painted different colors. However, the sun was still very bright. It was one of the hottest summers they've ever been through.

By the time the sun disappeared out of the sky and the stars were almost out, Wilmur and the run team was back. They had lots and lots of supplies. The back of their truck was filled with all kinds of things they needed.

Daryl and Wilmur stepped in the cellblock to see Rick standing back over in a cell door that lead to Hershel's cell. They made their way over to Hershel's cell to see Carl laying on the bottom bunk. His skin wasn't as red as before, but it was still really red.

"Jesus Christ, what happened?" Wilmur asked, sitting on Hershel's bunker. He could see his skin was terribly sunburned. There was no sweat, but his skin was too red and red enough.

"Carl got sunburned and dyhrated while working in the fields." Hershel responded, still wiping Carl's skin with the same wet washrag.

Wilmur turned his head and glared at Rick. He had forced his son to work too hard. Now Carl was laying in the bed badly sunburned and too dyhrated. He went through a heatstroke because of him. Rick noticed Wilmur's glare and rolled his eyes.

"What now?" Rick said with an annoyed voice.

"This is all your fault! If you didn't force Carl to work so hard, this wouldn't have happened!"

"I don't force Carl to work too hard! He decides to do it himself!"

"Oh, yeah right." Wilmur scoffed.

"Stop arguing. It's not helping." Carl said, still halfway asleep.

"He's right." Hershel responded.

Rick and Wilmur sighed and gave each other one last glare before focusing on Carl. Wilmur took off his backpack and pulled out a water bottle. It was halfway gone, but it was enough for Carl. Wilmur gently placed the bottle in Carl's mouth. Carl took little gulps until it was all gone.

Wilmur stroked Carl's damp hair and placed a kiss on his forehead, but was careful due to his sensitive skin. Daryl took a look at Carl. He could tell the boy was really hot and desperately needed to cool off.

"Um..." Daryl cleared his throat. "We got uh-we got a fan. We picked it up on the run."

Wilmur nodded. "I'll go get it."

Daryl sighed and looked at Rick's son. Carl was a hard work, but at times, he sometimes worked too hard. However, it was Rick's motto. He wanted Carl to work too many hours. It exhausted Carl. With Wilmur, it was different. A lot of times, they were inside a building and away from the heat. They also rested a lot from time to time. Carl was in the heat and couldn't get a break from it.

Wilmur came back with the big, white fan. He plugged it into the wall and placed it in front of Carl. He switched the fan to full power and let it blow in Carl's face. The fan blew Carl's damp hair away from his drooping eyes. The cool air calmed Carl.

"Better?" Wilmur asked, kissing Carl's forehead again.

Everyone looked after Carl, but left one by one as time passed. Hershel took Carl's cell for the night. Rick looked after Carl for a long time, but his exhaustion caught him and was forced to go back to his cell. Daryl and Wilmur were the only ones left in the cell.

"Alright, Wilmur. It's getting late." Daryl said.

Wilmur sighed. "Just three more minutes."

"You've been saying that for the passed hour." Daryl chuckled, but it didn't last long."I'll be upstairs."

Daryl left the cell and Carl and Wilmur were the only ones left in Hershel's cell. Wilmur stared at Carl's sleeping form. His skin was no longer red, but it was peeling.

Carl smiled at the memory. It wasn't necessarily a good memory, but Wilmur helped take care of him just like he always does. He's done it since the beginning.

Carl picked up a bucket while Rick picked up the other. The two walk down the rocky trail together. He could see some of the plants grew over night. The plants were active, but the pigs wasn't. Somehow, the pigs seemed quieter. Violet was still laying still.

"Hey, Carl?" Rick said.

The young teen looked at his father. His face was concerned and curious. "Wilmur said you work too hard and you're too exhausted by the end of the day." He said. "I don't believe him, but I'll believe it if you say it."

Carl sighed. "Well...I am exhausted at the end day."

"How much?" Rick asked before seeing the black sags under his eyes.

"Really tired." Carl replied.

Rick sighed. Wilmur had been right. Just like the time Carl got heatstroke. Maybe he could let Carl sleep in more and go back to the cellblock more early. It would probably make a huge difference.

The father looked up when he heard a horse's footsteps. Michonne had her horse and was walking it toward the fence. She was getting ready to leave, but only to find no one at the end of the day. She's been trying to find the Governor for a long time, but hasn't even found a clue of him.

"Careful out there." Rick said. The Governor might not be the only person she'll run across.

"Always am." Michonne replied. "Any requests? Books? Comics? Some stale M&M's?"

Carl smiled at the last one. Once, Michonne brought him back some. He had stuffed them all in his mouth at once. Only to end up coughing and choking on them because they were so stale.

"You're the one who likes stale M&M's." Carl said.

"Then I'll definitely be looking for some." Michonne joked and Carl giggled. "I'll look for some stuff you like, too."

Carl smirked and gave his head a shake. Michonne was always able to make him laugh. She was like his mother. She helped protect and take care of him. He wouldn't mind if Michonne got with his dad. It would officially make her his mother.

"Why don't you wear your hat anymore?" She asked.

The young teen smirked again. He hasn't wore his hat in a long time. It wasn't a farming hat. It was hat that protected him. It used to be his father's hat, but he gave it to him after he got shot to protect him. No matter where he goes, as long as the hat is with him, a little bit of his dad is with him. That hat is his father, and it protected him.

"It's not a farming hat. See you soon?"

"Pretty soon." Michonne replied.

Carl smiled and catched up to his father. He was still looking at his son with curiousness. He was worried about him. If he was really exhausting his son, then shouldn't he send him back? He wanted Carl to work, but he didn't want to exhaust him. Eventually, Carl will overwork himself too much, and he won't be able to work at all anymore.

Rick ignored the thought and walked over to the cucumber field. They were fully grown and ready to be picked just like Carl said so. The sun reflected on them and made them shine and sparkle.

"Hey, Dad?" Carl said as Rick placed down the bucket on the soil. "Why did you ask if I was exhausted at the end of the day?"

Rick stared at his son. The boy was obviously still exhausted. His fingers were shaking as he held the bucket. Black sags were growing darker under his eyes. It was nearly impossible to get him up every morning.

"Dad?"

Rick ignored his son. Instead, he handed Carl the bucket and bent down to pick up the cucumbers. The bucket was already halfway full in one minute.

Meanwhile, Carl stared at the walkers against the fences. The prison fences were getting weaker and weaker while the number of walkers kept growing and growing. Even with the people killing them everyday, it still wasn't enough. They were also growing weak on supplies. The less supplies, the more walkers. The more walkers, the more trouble. The more trouble, the more death.

There was even less people on the run today. Zach died, Wilmur's not going, Maggie's not going, Glenn's not going. Only a few people were going on the run. And a few isn't enough.

"They only took out one cluster yesterday. Probably gonna need more people today...maybe we could help."

Rick sighed. "I got other plans involving dirt and cucumbers."

Of course it does.

"Well, if you don't want to, maybe I could." Carl replied, trying to block his annoyance.

Rick ignored him again, shoving another plant in the bucket, showing his anger. Why did his son always suggest to do dangerous stuff? Doesn't he know how dangerous it is? His job was to work in the fields and to work in the fields only.

"Could I?" Carl asked nervously, afraid of his father's anger.

"We have other plans. That's what I should've said." Rick said and walked off.

The father was angry at his son again. He knows he's gonna get no as an answer so why does he bother to even ask? Rick never wanted his son to put himself in danger. If it was something Carl could die doing, then he doesn't want him to take any chances.

Carl sighed and picked up the other bucket, following after his father. He had just disappointed him again. All his father wanted was for him to be a child again. Carl was struggling with it, but now he's just made it even worse.

"Dad...I'm sorry." Carl said, and he meant it. "I've been trying."

Rick's eyes softened. He accepted the apology. He understood it was hard for Carl to be a child again. He was forced to go through the apocalypse in fear, he was forced to watch people die in front of his own eyes, he was shot, he was forced to put his mother down...it was nearly impossible to be a child.

"Yeah, I know. And I'm proud." Rick replied.

Carl bowed his head. Why would his father be proud of him after all the things he's done? It was his fault Dale died, he killed Shane, he killed his mom, he went completely cold for a while, he killed a kid in the woods. There was countless terrible things he's done.

"Dad, when can I have my gun back?"

Rick just stared at him. He knew the answer, he just asked anyway. Carl wasn't going to get his gun back until he obtains his childlike personality. It would be a while, and it already was taking a while. If Carl kept asking for it, he wouldn't get it back any time soon.

Carl sighed when Rick smiled. His father couldn't trust him with it. Ever since he killed that kid in the woods, Rick's been trying to help him be a child again. If Carl got his gun back at the second, who knows what he would be doing. He might be capable enough to act like everyone else with it. Rick couldn't have that. He wanted his son to have a childhood. He needed him to.

"Worms will give them some extra protein." Rick said, gunfire heard right afterwards.

Carl's eyes widened. Something was going on. Someone dead or alive was in the prison.

"Stay close." Rick said and Carl followed.

Gunfire grew louder and more got shot every second. Two children had already ran out of cellblock D, screaming and yelling for help. If he had his gun on him, he'd probably already be in the prison and killing whoever was attacking it.

"Cellblock?!" Maggie yelled from the guard tower.

"I don't know!" Rick yelled back before looking to his son. "Get in the tower with Maggie. Don't argue, go."

Carl obeyed, but not before locking the pig's pin up again. Up ahead, he could see Michonne running back on her horse. Carl quickly rushed to the fence to open it for Michonne, trying to ignore the gunfire. He could hear children screaming. He wanted to be in there to save them all, but his father wouldn't allow it.

The teen pulled the fence opened for Michonne, but she wasn't the only person who made it in. Walkers snuck in along with her. She jumped off the horse and tried to pull out her sword, but two walkers jump on her, knocking her down. She grunted as she desperately tried to push the walkers off her. She managed to push off one, but the other walker stayed on Michonne.

Carl made a run for the rifle against the guard tower while Maggie tried to run down to save Michonne, but she would be too late. Carl grabbed the rifle and ran back to the fence, firing toward the walker Michonne had pushed off her. He saved Michonne, but felt bad for using a gun when his father took his own away. If his father didn't want him to have a gun, then he'll obey. But he just broke his father's rule, and he felt terrible.

Maggie ran out of the guard tower and opened the second fence, running to the injured Michonne to help her. When she pushed off the second walker, she accidently stabbed herself in the side with her own sword. While Maggie got Michonne, Carl got Michonne's horse.

Outside the fence, he could see walkers sticking against their stick trap. It's when walkers walk against sticks and get stabbed and stuck. However, it wasn't stopping many of them. Walkers were outside the prison field, trying to get in the prison.

It wasn't enough walkers for it to be terrible, but it was enough walkers for them to knock down the prison fences.

"You and Rick gotta stop arguing so much. There's no point in it." Daryl said to Wilmur.

Wilmur crossed his arms. "If Rick wouldn't think he's right all the time, maybe we wouldn't argue so much."

"All y'all do is fight over the same thing. Carl. I know y'all want what's best for him, but y'all have to work together on it. And Rick is Carl's dad. He's the one who controls Carl."

"Rick can't control Carl. He only controls himself. Rick can't see that. That's the problem."

Daryl sighed and placed a hand on Wilmur's shoulder. Wilmur was right, but Rick was Carl's dad. And no one can tell Carl what to do except Rick. Wilmur just wanted Carl to be happy. He felt like what Rick was doing was making Carl unhappy, which it probably was, but there's nothing Wilmur can really do about it.

Carl was a strong boy. He's independent and can handle himself, but Rick somehow couldn't see it. He just couldn't accept his son was a man now. It got on Wilmur's nerves, but he couldn't hate Rick for it. After all, he saved Carl's life many times. Wilmur's grateful for that, but Rick thought Carl couldn't handle himself. Wilmur understood Rick wanted to protect Carl, but he was taking it too far. Rick will have to leave Carl alone sometimes.

"You're right, but there's nothing we can do 'bout it." Daryl replied.

Wilmur sighed and bowed his head. Daryl was right. Rick was his father and there was nothing Wilmur could do about it. All he could do is stand by and watch Carl torture himself more and more everyday.

"But...I can't. Carl's torturing himself and I don't want that. This isn't about wanting to spend time with him. It's about protecting himself."

"Well, maybe you could talk to Rick 'bout it. Don't argue, just say it slowly and calmly. I'm sure he'll understand. It's just better if you don't argue with him. Sometimes Rick thinks he's the leader over everything and people have to listen to him. You just have to give it time. Trust me, he'll come around."

Wilmur smiled. His father just gave him good advice. It rarely happened because Daryl was not so good at talking and usually said the wrong thing, but he was right this time. But what about Patrick? Would Daryl know how to handle Patrick?

"If-if I tell you something, will you promise not to tell Rick?" Wilmur asked and Daryl nodded.

Patrick's face flooded through Wilmur's mind and boiled his blood. If only he could have a gun in his hand which is pressed against Patrick's head and his finger is on the trigger. He would pull it in a split second if Carl told him to kill Patrick.

Patrick wanted Carl. It all made sense. Why else would Patrick keep interrupting him and Carl all the time? He tried to keep Wilmur away from Carl so he could be with him. Patrick smiled, he acted like a child and was happy all the time, but behind his smile was evil lurking.

"Carl has this friend named Patrick. He always acted weird around Carl. Especially if I was with him. But yesterday evening...Patrick pushed Carl against the wall and touched him."

Daryl leaned off the wall, rage growing in his eyes. "Holy shit."

"Yeah, I know. Carl tried to fight him off but he couldn't. There's bruises on Carl because of it."

"Wilmur, that's attempted rape." Daryl said, rage still in his eyes.

Daryl cared for Carl. He was Rick's son and his son's lover. All he was is a young man doing his job in the prison, but then his own best friend tried to force Carl to do some things? It was like another Shane. He wanted Rick's wife. Patrick was the same. He wanted Wilmur's lover.

There was a rapist in the prison. They couldn't have anyone bad in the prison. They weren't going to deal with another disgusting person. If someone was caught doing something terrible, then they get killed.

"We gotta do somethin'." Daryl said.

"Yeah, but what? Carl doesn't want me to kill him. They're still friends."

"Why?" Daryl asked. He didn't understand. Why would Carl want to be friends with a person who tried to rape him?

"Because Carl thinks he still needs to be friends with him." Wilmur responded.

Daryl sighed and punched the wall. What were they going to do?! They couldn't leave Patrick alone! Patrick's not going to stop going after Carl. It's either kill him or kick him out, but kicking him out is basically like killing him. Patrick wouldn't last a day out there.

Either way, Carl will get angry. Kick him out, he'll get angry. Kill him, he'll still get angry.

"We can't leave him alive." Daryl snapped.

"There's nothing we can do. You know how Carl is. He'll get angry."

"This isn't 'bout caring for his emotions, Wilmur! It's about protecting him!" Daryl snapped again.

Wilmur sighed and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. Wilmur wanted to protect Carl. He wanted to shield his lover from all the dangers, but would killing Patrick really help? Everyone in the prison would see him and Daryl as killers. Even Rick.

They would've killed a child. No one in the prison would believe them. Rick's group might but not everyone else. They were shookened from what Rick did to Woodbury. If they couldn't handle something like that, then how in the hell would they handle Patrick's death?

"There's nothing we can do, Dad! Killing Patrick won't solve anything. Everyone in the prison would see us as killers. Carl would! Rick would! Hershel would! There has to be another way."

Daryl scoffed and threw his crossbow on the bunker. Carl was like a son to him, too. He's one of the four members in the group he'd do anything for. The others are Wilmur, Carol, and Judith. If they couldn't kill Patrick or kick him out, then what were they suppose to do?!

"Then we have to keep them away from each other. Maybe we could lock Patrick up." Daryl suggested.

"No one would agree to it." Wilmur responded.

Daryl punched the wall again. "Son of a bitch!"

Flashes of Patrick and Carl passed through Wilmur's head. He could see Patrick as a happy, evil monster who was a rapist and was desperate to be in love. He could see Carl as an innocent, beautiful boy who was loveable and a huge part of Wilmur's life.

He could see Patrick forcing Carl to be with him and then laughing in his face. Patrick would take Carl off in the wild in the wild blue yonder and leaving Wilmur all alone.

There was no way Wilmur was going to let that happen! Carl was his and his only!

"What are we gonna do then?" Daryl asked more calmly, his hand resting against the wall.

Wilmur shrugged. "All I can do is talk to Patrick and protect Carl."

Daryl sighed and looked at his adoptive son. His blue eyes were staring at Daryl with concern. He was wondering if Daryl was okay. Not about not being able to do anything about Patrick, but about Patrick touching Carl. Daryl seemed to be angry about not being able to anything to Patrick, but not worrying about Carl being touched.

As soon as someone hurt someone Daryl loved, he immiedently wanted to kill them. He didn't worry about the other person, he just wanted to kill the other person.

Wilmur was the same sometimes. If Patrick raped Carl, he would've already killed Patrick. He wouldn't care what Carl thought. No one was allowed to force Carl to do any of that stuff.

"Where is he?" Daryl asked.

Before Wilmur could even open his mouth, a bullet was fired and was very close.

The father and son flinched, staring at each other with wide eyes. Daryl grabbed his crossbow while Wilmur yanked his gun out of his holster. Before they took off out of the cellblock, they made sure the place was secure and handed everyone in the cellblock a gun.

They ran outside to hear more gunshots that sounded like it was coming from cellblock D. Where Patrick was.

"Walkers in D!" They heard Glenn yell in panic.

"What about C?!" Rick yelled, running to Glenn. He had heard the gunshots from the fields with Carl.

"Clear!" Sasha yelled. "We locked the gates to the tombs! Hershel's on guard!"

"It ain't a breach." Daryl snapped.

"Everyone in the cellblock has a gun." Wilmur mentioned before following after Sasha.

He clicked the safety off his gun. His gun was fully loaded and four knives were in his pockets. Women and children could be heard screaming. Their husbands and fathers were protecting them, but were dying the process.

As soon as Wilmur stepped in cellblock D, a walker jumped on him followed by another. He shot the two walkers off him and stabbed the next one who came at him. Rick was helping people get out of the cellblock while everyone else was trying to defend for everyone against the walkers.

A child collapsed to the ground. Tears filled his eyes as he stared at a walker who was making his way toward the little boy. Wilmur shot the walker and grabbed the boy along with Daryl. The two rush him to Karen who was helping the children get to safety.

Wilmur quickly rushed halfway upstairs to kill three walkers who were eating a young child. Wilmur stared at the eaten child in fear and sadness. There was nothing he could do to save him. The child's screams uttered in Wilmur's ears. It reminded him of his little sister's death. Millions of children died since the apocalypse started, and his sister was one of them.

Snapping back into vision, he smashed all three of the walker's heads in before letting the crying child collapse in his arms. The child couldn't be any older than six. He was too young to die.

"No! My baby!" A women yelled.

Wilmur looked up to see a women with blonde hair and tears on her face. Her arms were opened to hold her son. Wilmur quickly handed the boy over to the mother, watching as she held and cried onto him.

"I couldn't save him." Wilmur's voice cracked. "I'm sorry."

The women stared at Wilmur with tears in her bloodshot eyes. Tears were in Wilmur's eyes, too. They were suppose to protect the prison. Protect everyone in it and they failed.

A walker snuck behind the women, but Wilmur killed it before it could bite the innocent mother. He stared as the mother collapsed to the ground with her son still in her arms. Tears were creating a river on her face. The women was screaming and crying. Wilmur was trying to get her to calm down, but it wasn't working.

All the walkers were gone, but the women didn't feel any better. The walkers ruined her and her son's life just like it ruined Wilmur's and Wilmur's sister's life. However, not all of it was ruined. If the apocalypse didn't happen, he would've never met Carl. Yeah, the apocalypse took almost everything out of everyone's life, but it gave something back. Just like Carl told him when he tried to escape the prison.

Daryl had came upstairs to see Wilmur trying to calm the mother down. However, every time he touched her, the women screamed louder. When he tried to pull the women away from her son, she smacked him off.

Daryl placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "There's nothing we can do."

Wilmur stared at the women one moment longer before slowly pushing himself off the ground. He stared at the dead child. Blood was smeared all over him and bites marked his skin.

"I'm sorry this happened to you." Wilmur whispered to the women.

Daryl wrapped an arm around his son to comfort him and the two walked to the cells to check if any walkers were hiding. Every cell had a dead, eaten body in it. Most of them were women. The men had failed to protect the women.

However, one walker was hiding in a cell. It suddenly jumped out and jumped on Glenn. Wilmur flinched and aimed his gun toward the walker. It was obviously a child because it was too short and skinny to be an adult.

"Get down!" Daryl warned Glenn, aiming his crossbow at the walker and releasing the bow.

The bow was sent straight through the walker's head. It collapsed to the ground along with Glenn. Blood had splattered onto Glenn's face and stained it just like Wilmur. There was blood all over his face and hair. Daryl helped Glenn up while Rick removed the cell curtain.

There, laid a walker body everyone knew.

Patrick.

Wilmur was a bit relieved Patrick was dead. He wouldn't have to touch or force Carl to do things anymore. Carl was safe from the stupid, rapist best. However, just because he was relieved doesn't mean Carl will. Patrick was still Carl's friend, and he'll be upset. He doesn't want to see his lover crying over someone who touched and forced him.

He'll just be upset over nothing.

Rick examined Patrick. He had no bites, nor injuries. He must've just died. The only thing seen was blood dripping from Patrick's mouth, nose, and eyes. Rick sighed and walked over to the next cell, killing another walker with blood dripping from his mouth, nose, and eyes, too.

Patrick and the other man must've been sick and died.

"No bites, no wounds. I guess he just died." Rick said.

"Horribly, too." Dr. S said. "Pleurisy aspiration."

Dr. S was another doctor. Him and Hershel worked together. They both helped a lot of sick and injured people. Although, Hershel was a veterinarian, Dr. S was a real doctor. He knew more than Hershel did.

"Choked to death on his own blood." Hershel said. "Caused those trails down his face."

"Like Patrick?" Wilmur questioned and Hershel nodded.

"I've seen them before on a walker outside the fences." Rick said.

"They're from the internal lung pressure building up-like if you shake a soda can and pop the top. Only imagine your eyes, ears, nose, and throat are the top."

Wilmur winced at the thought. Patrick died horribly, but if he had it when he was near Carl then...what if his lover catches it? Blood would be everywhere. Wilmur couldn't have his lover get sick. If it killed two people, then it may very well kill Carl. If his lover dies...he's not sure if he'll be able to go on or not.

"It's a sickness from the walkers?" Bob asked.

Wilmur prayed to God it wasn't. Things in the world were already bad enough. If the walker disease grew stronger, then it would wipe out all of humanity. Everyone and everything would be dead. Including animals and plants.

"No, these things happened before they were around." Dr. S replied.

Thank God.

"Could be pneumococcal." Dr. S continued. "Most likely an aggressive flu strain."

Wilmur's heard of pneumococcal before. Penny had it once and it was terrible. She wouldn't stop throwing up blood and gaining so many terrible head and belly aches. His mother fed Penny soup, but it didn't help at all. Everyday, she would lay in bed with a bucket in her little hands that would be filled with blood in two minutes.

She would never stop sweating and flushing. Her temperature would be above 100 degrees. A fan had to be blown in her face to cool her off, but if she puked out blood, it would fly all over her face. It was nearly impossible to use the fan because of all the blood.

Penny ended up staying out of school for two months. Her teacher would end up sending her the work everyone did in class, but she could hardly do it because she was too sick. She couldn't even hold a pencil because she was so weak. Wilmur ended up doing the homework for it, but he didn't mind. He wanted his sister to rest and get better.

Eventually, she had to be hospitalized. The doctors connected her to all kinds of wires. She couldn't even breathe on her own. She had to be connected to a machine to help her breathe. The doctors gave her all kinds of fluids until she was better. She wasn't allowed to be allowed out of the hospital until she was completely recovered.

"Someone locked him in just in time." Hershel said.

"No, man." Daryl corrected. "Charlie used to sleepwalk. Locked himself in. Hell, he was just eating barbecue yesterday. How could somebody die in the day just from a cold?"

"I've seen it before. My sister had it, and it was horrible. She was perfectly fine the day before. She was playing with her barbies." Wilmur chuckled, remembering how happy his sister was. "But the next day, she had it. She ended up getting hospitalized for awhile."

"How did you not get it?" Hershel asked.

"My mom gave me vitamins to keep me from getting sick."

Silence grew in the room. Everyone was focusing on the dead Charlie who was sick, but died from it. The sickness was terrifying. It killed two people and his sister had to be hospitalized because of it. He doesn't want his lover to catch it just like Penny did. It killed him to see Penny so sick and there was hardly anything they could do about it.

"All of us in here," Hershel broke the silence. "We've all been exposed."

Wilmur sighed sadly as Rick dragged Charlie out of the cell. Wilmur stood next to Daryl.

"How did your sister heal?" Daryl asked.

Wilmur flinched at the mention of his sister. He never really talked about her. It felt different talking about her. With her gone, his life was just different. It always will be different without her in the world. If only he could introduce Carl to her. They would've liked each other a lot. He knew she would like Carl a lot better than she liked Kevin.

"The doctors in the hospital gave her medicine and fluids." Wilmur replied.

Silence grew between Daryl and Wilmur before two minutes passed.

"Are you glad Patrick's dead?" Daryl asked.

"Well...I'm not really glad I'm just relieved he's gone, you know? So he can't touch Carl anymore."

Daryl barely sighed and looked away. "Well, I'm glad he's dead."

Wilmur stared at his adoptive father. Daryl was violent since he met him. He was very protective over his friends and if anyone hurt him, he'd curse them upon every breath they breathed and be thankful that they're dead.

Carl helped Michonne walk along with Maggie. The gunshots were no longer heard and the screams were all gone. The only thing remained left was cries.

As soon as Carl saw his father, he took of running toward him. He felt so terrible for using a gun. He felt like his father needed to know what he's done.

"You might wanna stay back." Rick warned, but Carl didn't listen. "Carl-"

The father is cut off when Carl is smashed in his arms. Carl whimpered into his father's shoulder. He felt so terrible for breaking his father's rule. Other children might find it weird he's upset over breaking his father's rule, but Carl loved his dad. His dad was the only parent he had left. He broke so many of his mother's rules and she died. He felt terrible for breaking them. He's not going to do the same with his father. Not now. Not ever.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't see you come out."

Carl was so scared he lost him. If he lost his dad, he don't know what he would've done. Sure, he had Wilmur but he would be so upset over his father's death. It didn't matter that his dad was strict on him. He still loved his father, and he will no matter what.

"It's okay." Rick comforted his son. "I'm here. I'm fine. But back away."

Carl obeyed. He thought he lost his father. He'd do anything to obey him at the moment.

"I had to use one of the guns by the gate. I swear I didn't want to."

Rick didn't care his son used a gun. He had to, and his son was upset for using one. Carl was upset right now. He didn't want to get him trouble over nothing. It'd just upset him more.

"I was coming back." Michonne defended for Carl. "They came out and helped me."

"Are you all right?" Rick asked and Michonne nodded.

Carl had saved Michonne. Maggie would be too late. If it wasn't for Carl, Michonne would be bitten and possibly already dead. If Carl had to use a gun to defend for himself or for someone else, he didn't care.

"What happened in there?" Maggie asked, afraid to hear the answer.

The blonde women carrying her young, dead son was enough to answer the question. It was the same mother and son Wilmur had tried to help, but failed. Everyone failed. They failed to protect everyone. Everyone had a job, but everyone's real job was to protect each other, but they failed at it.

If only they knew about the flu sooner. If only they knew about the sick pig, Violet, who died from the sickness.

"Patrick got sick last night." Rick finally managed to say.

Carl flinched under Patrick's name. The boy who touched and forced him to do things. It was the only thing Carl thought of when he heard Patrick's name. He wondered if Wilmur talked to him yet.

Wilmur.

If he was in cellblock D...what if...

"It's some kind of flu. It moves fast." Rick continued. "We think he died and attacked the cellblock."

Carl sighed. Patrick was his friend even though he touched him. If he's honest with himself, he's relieved Patrick died. It meant no one could interrupt him and Wilmur's special moments together. It also meant Patrick couldn't touch him anymore. But...despite the cons of Patrick, he was still his friend.

"Look, I know he was your friend and I'm-" Rick's interrupted.

"Is Wilmur all right?" Carl interrupted Rick. He didn't care about Patrick. He touched and forced him to do tings. He cared about Wilmur. The boy who loved him.

Rick looked at his son weird for a second, but eventually nodded. He understood his concern for Wilmur. He was more important than Patrick. After all, Patrick and Carl weren't exactly friends. They were more like aquittances.

Rick looked at Maggie, taking his attention away from Carl. "Glenn and your dad are okay, but they were in there. You shouldn't get too close to anyone that might've been exposed."

If Wilmur was in the cellblock, he was exposed. If the flu killed Patrick, it's strong enough to kill Wilmur, and everyone in the prison. Everyone else out of the cellblock would be quarantined.

Carl sighed and ran back to Michonne, wrapping his arm around her to help her walk.

If the sickness spreads, everyone in the prison could end up getting it. Everyone would eventually die if they didn't get it under control. They had Hershel and Dr. S, but they didn't have the medicine. Without the medicine, there's really nothing they can do.

"Patrick was fine yesterday, and he died overnight." Carol said. "Two people died that quick?"

The council was having a meeting. They were deciding how to contain the horrible flu. If it killed two people already, imagine how many people it will kill if it spreaded. Everyone exposed was bound to obtain the sickness sooner or later. They had to be contained somewhere, and fast.

"We have to separate everyone. When my sister was hospitalized, they wouldn't let us see my sister at all. Mom and I even had to be contained for awhile because we were near her. If it's that contagious, everyone needs to be separated."

"That's everyone in the cellblock." Daryl replied. "That's all of us. Maybe more."

It could even be Carl that could be contained. He was near Patrick the day before he died. He was near the people who sleep in cellblock D. If Wilmur was exposed to it before today, then he could've already given it to Carl. He could've already given it to a lot of people.

"We know that this sickness can be lethal." Hershel said. "We don't know how easily it spreads. Is anyone else showing symptoms that we know of?"

Wilmur looked down at himself. He hadn't been showing any symptoms. No one really has...yet. The children in cellblock D could very easily get it. Younger children have a weaker immune system than the older. The kids were at a higher risk. They needed to worry about them the most.

"We just can't wait and see. There's children." Carol said.

"Children have weaker immune systems than all of us. If anyone gets it, it's gonna be them." Wilmur said.

"He's right. When they die, they become a threat." Carol replied.

Hershel nodded. "We need a place for them to go. Not just the children. They may be the ones to get it first, but then they can pass it on to any adult any time. It's too dangerous to leave them wandering around. We can't use cellblock D. We can't risk going in there to clean it up."

"What about the people who aren't exposed? They can't stay here. They have to go somewhere else." Wilmur said.

"The ones who aren't exposed get quarantined. The ones who are exposed stay here. And the ones who have the sickness can use cellblock A." Carol said.

"Death row?" Glenn questioned. "I'm not sure if that's much of an upgrade."

"It's clean. That's an upgrade." Daryl said. "Think that'll work with Dr. S?"

"I'll help Caleb get it set up." Hershel replied.

Suddenly, a women can be heard coughing. The sickness has already spreaded if another person has catched it. They couldn't let the sickness spread anymore. Having two people sick from it was enough. If a third was sick, it'll spread more and more and eventually, everyone in the prison will be sick. Even the ones quarantined.

Everyone quickly jumped out of there chairs and walked out of the cell library too see Tyreese in the hallway with his arm wrapped around the coughing Karen.

"You don't sound so good." Carol said, stepping out of the library.

"We're just taking her back to my cell so she can rest." Tyreese replied.

Wilmur sighed. There was nothing Tyreese could do for his girlfriend. If it was Carl who was sick, Wilmur would go in cellblock A with him. He doesn't give a damn what anyone else said. He wasn't going to let Carl go in alone. Penny had it before and he took care of her. He would do the same exact thing to Carl.

"Tyreese, I don't think that's a good idea." Hershel said.

"Why? What's going on?" Karen asked.

"There's a horrible sickness going around. It's already killed two people. We can't have it spreading. She'll have to go somewhere else." Wilmur responded.

"She's gonna be okay." Tyreese said, refusing to believe what might happen to his girlfriend. "Now that we know what they died from we can treat it, right?"

"Don't panic. We're going to figure this out." Hershel said. "But we should keep you separated in the meantime."

Karen sighed worriedly. How could a sickness pass through the prison and kill two people? Was the sickness really so bad, that you had it contain it? If two people died from it then...

"We'll have Caleb take a look at you." Hershel said. "I'll see what we have in the way of medications."

There was barely any medications. They haven't found any medicine for almost two months. Yeah, they have Hershel's tea, but could that really help? They needed something that would completely get rid of the flu. They needed vitamins, too. The vitamins should help the people who aren't sick. It would build up their immune system.

Carl, however, was in a weak state at the moment. With him working too hard, it could've reduced his immune system's strength. He could easily catch it. Especially if he was around Patrick. If he could talk to Rick and tell him Carl needed to rest, then maybe his immune system would grow strong again.

"David from the Decatur group," Karen said. "He's been coughing, too."

Now four people had it. Two were already dead, but Karen and David were bounded to die soon if they don't find the right fluids and medicine to treat it. They desperately needed to find vitamins the most to stop the flu from spreading. If they could get it to stop, the sickness in the prison would soon disappear.

"I'll-I'll get him." Glenn said. Before walking off, he turned to Sasha. "There's some clean empty cells in the tombs, right?"

"Yeah, we'll meet you there." Sasha responded.

Glenn nodded and walked off to get David. He had to get him, and quickly before David spreads it to anyone else. If he does, then the next person will give it to the next. It will continue as a pattern until they can manage to stop it.

Sasha and Wilmur sighed, walking over to Tyreese and Karen, wrapping there arms around them. Karen didn't need to walk on her own. Every time Penny tried when she had it, the sickness ended up worsening. She eventually couldn't walk on her own. Wilmur, his mother, or his father would have to end up carrying her.

"Come on." Wilmur said as his arms wrapped around Karen.

"Let's get you settled." Sasha said, helping Karen along with Wilmur.

Wilmur and everyone else besides Daryl, Hershel, and Carol put Karen in cellblock A. Karen had a strong look on her face. She had to be strong, or else she could die. She couldn't be afraid of death. It was a normal thing.

"Don't worry." Wilmur reassured. "Everything will be all right."

He gave Karen one last look before walking off with everyone besides Tyreese who stayed behind for a little while. They walked outside the prison to check and make sure everyone was all right. If anyone was coughing or showing any kind of symptom, they have to lock them away. They can't have it spreading. Especially outside the prison.

They don't run across anyone showing symptoms, but they do run across a fence threatening to give out because of too many walkers pushing against it. The gunfire had drawn all the walkers to the prison.

"Rick! Daryl!" Maggie yelled, motioning for them to come help.

Wilmur looked up ahead to see the nearly falling fence with thousands of walkers pressed against it.

"Oh no." Wilmur whispered before taking off running with Daryl, Sasha, Maggie, Rick, Tyreese, and Glenn.

Each of them grab a weapon from the fence. No one had been outside today to kill the walkers pressed against the fences. The gunfire had only made it worse. Thousands of walkers were surrounding them and all heading for the same fence.

"The noise drew 'em out and now this part's starting to give!" Maggie yelled, killing walkers against the fences.

Wilmur killed every walker crowding in his area. They're snarling attracted more and more walkers to come. Not just the ones near them, but the ones somewhere else in the field. The crowded area was attracting all of them.

One of the walkers smashed of against the gates too hard, that it's eyeballs fell out. Blood splattered onto the gravel with each stab into the walker's heads. Blood splattered onto Wilmur's cloths, too. Blood was splattering on everyone. Snarling could be the only thing heard. You could barely hear each other. You had to yell to get everyone to hear you.

More and more walkers pressed up against the fence. They're fingers sink through the fence and grip onto the weapons, but they lose their grip as soon as the weapon splitted there head.

One walker gripped onto Wilmur's weapon and knocked him to the gravel. A rock jammed into his hand, leaving a bloody injury. Wilmur grunted as he tried to push himself up, but winced at the pain in his palm. The rock had sunken into his palm. Daryl grabbed his arm and pulled him up.

"You okay?" He asked.

Wilmur yanked the rock of his palm and dropped it to the ground. "I'm fine."

A walker grabbed Daryl's wrist and yanked him forehead, but before he could bite Daryl, Wilmur smashed the knife right through the walker's hard skull. Usually, the walker's skulls were soft, but if it was a brand new walker, the skull would be hard. Most of the walkers they were killing had hard skulls.

"Someone's nearby." Wilmur said.

"Huh?" Daryl said, confused.

"The walkers are new. Someone must've killed the actual person."

Daryl stabbed another walker and then another after that, realizing their skulls were too hard. Most of them had already turned. A lot of them weren't even bitten. They just had wounds.

"Are you seeing this?!" Sasha yelled.

Wilmur looked down beside him to see dead, eaten rats. Someone must've been feeding them. If the rats were all in one place, someone had been feeding them. The rats couldn't have rushed in all at once.

"Is someone feeding these things?" Sasha questioned.

Suddenly, part of the fence greeted Wilmur's face. The fence was slowly falling, and the walkers were falling with it. Wilmur dropped his weapon and smashed his arms and hands against the fence to keep it from falling.

"Oh, shit!" Wilmur yelled.

"Heads up!" Daryl warned.

With all his strength, Wilmur pushed against the fence hard. He couldn't let the walkers break in the prison. They would kill many people inside. Most of the people in the prison didn't know how to fight. A lot of them were probably already sick.

The walker snarling grew louder, attracting every single walker nearby. Each walker was pushing up against the fence. They're fingers were gripping it and pushing it forward while Wilmur and everyone else was pushing it back with all their strength. It was nearly impossible due to the amount of walkers and lack of people. But they were stronger than the walkers. If they kept pushing as hard as they can, then they can push the fence back.

Wilmur grunted as he pushed against the fence as hard as he could. His arms were losing power due to how hard he was pushing. If they had more people, it would be easier. But they didn't have more people. All they could do was push against the fence as hard as they could.

Fingers gripped onto Wilmur's fingers, but he ignored them. He grunted and pushed harder, roaring as he pushed against the fence. It was unknown who was winning. Wilmur was closing his eyes as he pushed against the fence. He couldn't open his eyes and hope for the best. He had to close them and just push.

"Everybody back!" Daryl yelled. "Come on, back, now!"

Everyone obeyed and took a step back. They didn't push against it long enough to push it all the way back, but they did push against it long enough to keep it the way it is a little longer.

"Fence keeps bending in like that, those walkers will come over it!" Sasha yelled.

Wilmur sighed and looked at Rick. He was visibly exhausted. They were all sweating and their arms were trembling. They couldn't push against the fence forever. Whether they push against the fence or not, the walkers will break through.

"Daryl, get the truck.' Rick said. "I know what to do.

Wilmur knew Rick knew exactly what to do. Even though a lot of times Rick was wrong, he knew the greatest survival skills. And he can lead the walkers away from the fences.

Carl hammered the cross he was making for Patrick. He was his friend even though he touched him, and he wasn't evil. He deserved to be rested in peace.

Footsteps walked down the steps, interrupting the peace.

The young teen looked up to see Carol. She wasn't actually checking on him. She was making sure he didn't tell his dad about what she's been teaching the children. Honestly, he didn't care, but he knew his dad wanted to know. He wasn't going to lie to his dad. He almost lost him today.

"Do you know if Patrick was Catholic?" Carl asked, ignoring his thoughts.

"He said he was a practicing atheist." Carol replied.

Carl sighed and took the cross apart. Maybe he was an atheist so he could have the ability to touch Carl. Maybe he thought if he was Catholic, it would be breaking the bible law if he touched Carl and pushed him against the wall. However, if he was an atheist, there was no rule.

"Did you tell your dad what you saw in the library yesterday?" She asked.

Thought you would ask that.

"Nope." Carl responded, putting away the hammer.

The young teen picked up a box and placed the wood and hammers and nails back in it. He wasted his time making a cross for Patrick when he touched him and was also an atheist. He was Catholic when he came, but tried to be an atheist when he met Carl just so he could try and be with him. What really bothered him was Patrick felt like being a Catholic and liking Carl was a bad thing. But then he thought touching him was a good thing, even as an atheist.

"Are you going to tell him?" She asked.

Carl paused and sighed. He wasn't going to lie to his dad. Rick never lied to him. Why should he lie to Rick?

"What about Wilmur?" She asked.

Carl stayed paused. He told Wilmur everything. He knew what the right thing to do was. He always told Carl the right thing and fixed his mistakes. If he didn't tell his dad, then he was definitely going to tell Wilmur.

Carol sighed. "I have to keep teaching those kids to survive. You know that."

She was right. The children have to know how to fight or they'll end up dying. They can't always look up to a parent or an adult. If you end up alone, you have no one left but yourself. And you have to know how to fight.

But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that she was sneaking behind everyone's back and now Carl knew.

"Did you tell their parents?" Carl asked.

Carol shook her head. "No."

"Are you gonna tell them?"

If she doesn't tell their parents, it would be just like Carl not telling his dad. He didn't want to lie and he didn't want Carol to lie either. She'd just get herself in trouble. She may not care but Carl does.

"If I do, maybe after this they'll understand. But maybe they won't. I don't wanna take that risk."

"That's between you and them." Carl said, placing one last object back in the box.

Carol sighed and took a seat on the bench. She had to get Carl to keep the secret somehow. She couldn't force him to keep it a secret. It was up to him. She wasn't his mom and he certainly wasn't a kid.

"No." She said. "It's between you and me. If you tell your dad, he'll tell them."

You don't know that, Carol.

"And like I said, maybe they'll understand, maybe they won't."

"I don't wanna lie to my dad." Carl said.

Rick didn't deserve to be lied to.

"I'm not asking you to lie." She replied. "I'm asking you not to say anything."

Carl sighed. Rick would want to know. And if Rick wanted to know, then Rick has every to know.

Wilmur and Maggie open the gate for Rick and Daryl. They're plan was to use pigs as bait to attract the walkers away from the fences of the prison. Daryl would be driving the truck while Rick is throwing out pigs for the walkers to eat.

Maggie and Wilmur ran back to Sasha and Glenn and Tyreese to kill walkers that will be left against the fence. Almost every walker left the fence, leaving everyone else to kill the walkers left against the fences.

Glenn closed his eyes and sighed. He didn't feel very well. He felt a little warm, and it wasn't from the heat. Wilmur looked over and noticed Glenn's closed eyes.

"Glenn?" Wilmur said and Glenn flinched, flashing his eyes open. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah. I'm f-fine." He responded, still feeling uneven.

Wilmur slightly nodded and watched as Rick's truck drove back in the gates. Every pig was gone and left against the trails for the walkers to follow. They had no more meat to strengthen people. They had even less food now. The sick people would need something healthy. It couldn't just be vegetables. They needed something that would help give them strength.

The food was suppose to help them stay stronger for a little longer until they find medicine, but it was even harder now without the food. They needed to give the sick people something to hold them over.

"How'd it go?" Wilmur asked Rick and he gave him a thumbs up.

Wilmur sighed and looked at everyone else before walking back inside with them to check on everyone. While walking back inside, he ran across Carl, but stayed clear of him. He didn't want to expose him to the sickness.

"Wilmur." He said, taking too many steps toward him.

"Stop." Wilmur warned. "Stay back."

Carl hesitated, but obeyed and took a few steps back. Wilmur was exposed, and he didn't want him being exposed alone. If he got sick, Carl would want to take care of him. He doesn't want Wilmur handling himself.

"Do you know if the run with Daryl went okay?" He asked.

"No one went." Wilmur corrected.

The two boys stare into each other's blue eyes. They wished to take off to their secret spot in the prison, but they couldn't. Not with Wilmur exposed. Yet, Carl didn't care if Wilmur was exposed he just wanted to be with him. No matter what happens, even if Wilmur got terribly sick, he still wanted to be with him.

It felt different just staring at each other instead of holding each other. If Carl could somehow expose himself, then he can be with Wilmur. But he knew it was childish and his father and lover wouldn't appreciate it.

"Is my dad down there?" He asked and Wilmur nodded.

"Yeah, he's down there. Don't get too close to him though." Wilmur warned.

Wilmur walked passed Carl, but he stopped him. "When will we be allowed to be near each other again?"

The older lover smiled. "As soon as we get the medicine. Don't worry. We'll be together again before you know it."

Carl smiled weakly as Wilmur walked off. Who knows how long it'll take to get the medicine. It could be a few days or a few weeks. A lot of people would already be dead by a few weeks. Even by a few days if enough people get sick. He didn't want Wilmur to get sick. If it killed Patrick, then it can kill Wilmur.

The young teen sighed and walked in the field to his father. He was taking apart the pig pin. The pigs were all gone. Including Violet. If Rick knew how close Carl was to the pigs, he probably would've kept one of them.

"Not this time." Rick said and Carl sighed. The sickness just had to ruin everything.

Rick threw the wooden plank on the pile of wooden plants before taking apart another one. They lost their meat and about twenty percent of their food. At least they still had the other eighty percent.

"Think the pigs made them sick?" Carl asked.

"Or we made the pig sick." Rick corrected, throwing down another wooden plank.

Carl nodded slightly and looked down. He hoped to find medicine soon. He hated being separated from everyone. From his father, from his lover, from his sister. He had no one to talk to.

"I think we should stay away from Judy awhile." Rick suggested and Carl nodded. They had to keep her safe. If she got sick, she wouldn't last a few hours. "I don't like it but-"

"We have to protect her." Carl interrupted.

"Yes, we do." Rick replied, throwing down another wooden plank.

Carl sighed nervously. He felt weird being around Rick when he was keeping something from him. It didn't feel very good, and his father needed to know Carol really wasn't reading to children during story time.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Carol's been..." Carl paused, making sure he's actually wanting to do this. "Teaching the kids...how to use weapons...how to kill. Their parents don't know and she doesn't want you to know. I think you should let her. I know you're gonna say it's not up to you. But it can be."

Carl immiedently regretted telling him the moment Rick threw gasoline out of the gasoline bottle in rage. Carl took a step back. His father seemed to always get mad at him, but it wasn't his fault.

"Dad?"

"Thank you for telling me." Rick said.

Carl looked at the ground. "Yeah."

"I won't stop her. I won't say anything." Rick said before setting the pig pin on a gentle fire.

Rick walked over to the blue bucket where he had his and Carl's gun planted. He had buried it to hide it from him and Carl. He took it away so Carl could obtain his childlike personality again, but nothing was going to change. Carl was a fighter, not a kid. He needed his gun more than ever. Walkers can break in the cellblock again any time, and it'd be Rick's fault if Carl didn't have a gun to defend himself.

"Carl." Rick said, opening the bucket.

The young teen walked over to his dad while he pulled the gun Carl hasn't seen in a long time out. He cleaned it with a washrag and handed it over to his son. Carl looked at his father for a second to make sure his father really wanted him to take it. If Rick didn't actually want him to take it, then he's fine with leaving it, but Rick was serious.

Carl took the gun while Rick pulled his weapons back out.

"And Carl, when it's over, you don't have to work so much anymore. I'll let you sleep in and go back in the prison earlier than usual, okay? Wilmur was right. I was exhausting you too much and I'm sorry."

Carl smiled. "It's okay. You don't have to do that though."

"Yeah, I know." Rick replied. "I don't want you to overwork yourself too much. Not like that time you got sunburned really bad."

Carl's smile drove down. He wanted to make sure his father actually wanted this. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. And besides, you need to spend more time with Wilmur. He makes you more happier than I do."

Carl smiled again, looking down at the ground.

"Me and Wilmur both have one thing in common." Rick joked.

Carl scoffed. "And what's that?"

"We both love you."