Meant To Live
"Rick," I called, running after him as he walked down to the hallway from C block. I had gotten up a lot earlier today, ready to: one, get my knife back, and two, help with whatever needed to be done today. He turned around to look at who had said his name, and I sighed because I really didn't want to have to bother him. "I want my knife back," I said simply, catching up to him. He looked like he was about to pile a load of questions on me, and I stopped him before it could start.
"If I'm staying here, then I'm going to help out. I wanted to help out at the fences, it could use it."
He paused for a moment, looking at me as if I was absolutely crazy. But the knife was mine; they had taken it from my belt when I had gotten here. And I really did want to help out; it was something for me to do instead of holding up in my cell all day reading books I had found in the library. But then he turned back around, motioning for me to follow him back down the hall the way I had come. We walked in silence for a few minutes, and I counted the sound of my boots colliding with the metal as we walked.
"Made any friends?" he asked, and I looked up to see if he was actually talking to me.
"Not really, I don't talk much," I said, tucking the hair in front of my eyes behind my ear.
"Carl's the same way, he's always in survival mode. I think he's starting to loosen up, though."
I nodded, remembering he was talking about his son. And Rick was right, I supposed. Being in survival mode was what kept you alive. I had seen him around a lot, always walking around outside or by the garden with Rick and Hershel. But I never talked to him, because he didn't seem like the talkative type. That and I never had any reason to talk to him. We walked in silence, because I really had nothing to say. I was just eager to have my knife back; it made me feel safe. Even though I had no reason to be scared, at least, not right now. The fences were sturdy, every thing was holding up. Rick walked ahead of me, opening a metal door and walking inside. There was a large wooden table in the center, with a navy blue duffle bag sitting on the side of it. He unzipped it, rummaging through it until he pulled out my black leather sheath with my hunting knife tucked inside.
"Thanks," I said, taking it from him and attaching it back to my belt and around the bottom of my thigh. I tightened it around, making sure it wasn't going to loosen up as I walked. I turned around, waiting to see if he was gonna come back to C block with me.
"I'm gonna check the guns, see how we're doin' on ammo," he said after a moment, glancing to me and back down to a pistol he was holding. I nodded, though he didn't notice before walking out of the room, and back down where I had come from. Before long I had made it back to C block, where I noticed Beth was. She caught my eye contact, smiling at me while she talked casually to an older boy. I smiled back, stopping to say hi to her for a minute before I went outside. A few minutes passed as their chatter went on and I made my leave, walking up the stairs and out the door. The sunlight hit my face, causing me to squint and look around before my eyes adjusted. Hershel wasn't out right now, and it was one of the first times I had been outside when he wasn't.
I walked outside into the courtyard, opening the gate to let me out into the yard. I walk down the gravel path, and into the long grass that pushed up against my boots. I wanted to get to the fence; I wanted to help out. And I hadn't fought a walker in a while, so I could use the practice. I just wanted to be ready, to be able to take care of myself if I needed to. There were a few people at the fences already, with metal rods or sharp sticks, and I recognized a lot of them from my time bundled up in my cell. They were the people from Woodbury, and though I hadn't made much conversation with them, they seemed pretty nice. I walked along side the fence, watching the walkers grip the intertwined wire, tugging on it in a desperate need to tear it down. I watched the other people, sticking the rods through the space in the fence to stab the infected between the eyes.
I unsheathed my knife from 'round my leg, holding it up and turning it over in the light. This knife had saved my life so many times, and it was the only weapon I had managed to not be robbed of. And so I took my stance, gripping the handle tightly before nailing my target, twisting the handle sideways for good measure. I pulled it out, turning my head as blood splattered from the gash I had just made. The walker's body went limp, and it dropped to the ground only to have another immediately take its place. I turned my head to look around, catching one of the people from Woodbury staring at me.
"What?" I asked, looking side to side.
"Nothin', just that you seem pretty good with a knife," she said, looking from my eyes to the black handle I was gripping a little too tightly.
"Well, I hope I would be," I said, turning back to the fence to take out another walker. She laughed softly, joining in as the bodies fell almost simultaneously.
"I'm Abby," she said, turning back to lock eyes with me. Hers were a dark brown, and her hair curled in dirty blonde locks to cradle her face. Unlike me, who was getting blood all over my flannel shirt, was wearing an apron, which had to of lost its white look a while ago. She dragged her beaten up converse on the ground, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.
"I'm Brooke," I replied, and she smiled to reveal shallow dimples. I resumed my work at the fence, and before long she had started up a conversation with me.
"So, where'd you come from?" she asked, and we moved down the fence to rid the wire of another small cluster that was building up.
"Been on my own, made it out of the city before things got really bad," I said, not really bothering to go into detail. I didn't want to bring up everything I had lost; it was easier to pretend like it never happened. She looked at me for a moment, and I hadn't realized until I could feel eyes on me. "What?" I asked again, this time thinking there had to be something seriously wrong with me because she kept looking at me like I was God himself.
"You've been out there, on your own, this whole time? How'd ya' survive?" she questioned, pointing out to the wooded area beyond the fences. I moved from the wire, putting my knife back into its sheath as I walked away from the fences, growing tired of exterminating the dead. She walked fast at first to catch up to me, walking at my side as our footsteps began to collide with the ground at the same time as the others.
"I don't know, I guess I was used to it. It wasn't really hard for me, I never depended on anyone before this happened anyway. I made it out of Atlanta before the army was sent in, by some miracle. And I've been on my own, until now. I found the prison, walked straight through the woods," I said, not telling her anything about how I was originally going to off myself. That was something I was going to stay far from getting into, because she didn't need to know. That's what I told myself, though I really feared that she'd immediately judge me. And I didn't want that, seeing as though she's the first person I've talked to outside of the people who had helped me to my feet.
She asked me a few more questions before it had fizzled into a comfortable silence as we walked on past the fence and into the yard. I laughed to myself as I saw Hershel in the garden, and I thought it was funny because the first time I was out, it still wasn't long until Hershel was also out. I looked to Abby, and the corners of her mouth twitched up. "What is it this time?" I asked, and she laughed softly. She bunched up the sleeve of her shirt at her hands, bringing it to my cheek and scrubbing it.
She stopped after a minute, and I raised my eyebrows at her. "You had blood all over your face," she said, and I once again became aware of the fact I probably looked horrid.
"Oh," I replied, and she giggled to herself as we walked, hearing the smaller kids laughing. "So, where are your parents?" I asked, and I hadn't even thought about the fact that maybe her family was gone like mine.
"My momma's inside," she answered, and I was immediately relieved that she answered with something good. I nodded, and we walked along the yard. I watched the other kids playing some sort of sport, acting like everything was normal again and people weren't coming back from the dead. I looked to her, and then back to the game they were playing.
"Wanna play?" she asked, and I shrugged.
"I don't play much, I don't really have friends here," I answered, and she nudged her shoulder with mine.
"That makes two of us," she answered, and I pushed her back again as we got closer. "C'mon," she said, and I huffed, blowing the hair out of my eyes as I followed her to the cluster of kids. I stood there and watched her ask to play, getting the feeling of the times back at school. It was like trying to find the right crowd of people to talk to, accept with less people. She looked back at me, grinning as she talked to a lanky boy with thick-rimmed glasses pushed against the bridge of his nose. I shook my head, getting the feeling she wanted me to play. I stood on the sidelines, watching them kick around a soccer ball. I crossed my arms over my chest, watching each of them laugh and play like nothing was existing around them. But I couldn't go back to that, it was too late for me to be a kid again.
"People watching?" someone said, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned my head to the right, catching electric blue eyes and dark hair. I laughed, kicking a rock with the tip of my boot as I looked at the ground.
"Yeah," I replied, watching the blades of grass sway to the side as the wind picked up. "I do that a lot now," I added, and the boy nodded at that. "I'm Brooke, by the way," I said, looking up at him from under my eyelashes. He had dark hair that grew down to about the middle of his neck, where it curled out. Bangs covered his forehead, sweeping to the left.
"I know," he replied, crossing his arms as well to make us both look like referees watching a game of soccer intently. "I'm Carl," he said after a moment, and I replied with an 'I know' and a stupid grin. It was weird, since we both obviously knew the others name. But it was just now that I was actually speaking to him. The game ended by now, and the kids broke up into groups and walked off in different ways, Abby and the other boy walking over to us. "This is Patrick," Carl said, pointing to the kid with the black-rimmed glasses.
"Brooke," I said, introducing myself. He nodded, and Abby said her name, and for a moment it felt like the infected outside weren't trying to tear down the fences. It felt like, for a split second, I was back at school trying my best to fit in with a bunch of kids I knew nothing about. My ears perked up, and I could hear the faint found of a car running. And it was weird, because I hadn't heard that sound in the longest time. I looked around, seeing Maggie and Glenn running down to the gates, where the rope was dangling. I turned 180, and looked to the outside of the fence, seeing a car driving down the dirt road toward the prison. "C'mon," Carl said, and the four of us ran down the yard toward the lever Glenn was pulling on.
I stayed back a bit, and we moved out of the way as the bulky metal gate opened outward, pushing the walkers to the traps set up. I watched the wooden poles impale them at the chest and up, and they still flailed around, eager to get up and waltz into the prison and grab one of us. The black car drove through, and Maggie pushed open the wired gate to let them through as Glenn ran to pull back down on the lever on the other side. The metal gate closed, as well as the fenced one as the car drove through. It stopped a little ways up the yard, and all six of us ran to catch up to it. I figured I was the only one there not knowing what was going on, until the car doors opened.
Daryl stepped out, a crossbow and green tipped bolts slung over his back. Another person stepped out, a black woman with dreadlocks and a sword over her left shoulder. "Did ya' find anythin'?" Maggie asked, and the woman looked rather angry and frustrated to the point where her lips where worn in a thin line.
"Nothin'," Daryl said, and I heard Glenn sigh. "We're gon' go back out soon, see if we can look somewhere else."
Maggie nodded, and before she walked off I marched after her, pulling her back to me. "Who's that?" I asked, nodding to the woman with the sword.
"That's Michonne," she answered, and I nodded before letting her go, watching her and Glenn walk back to the prison. I was glad she got straight to the point instead of me having to walk around for days, trying to listen in to hear someone say her name. It was better I learned ahead of time, seeing I was staying here with all these people.
I watched Daryl and Michonne unpack everything from the beat up car, as Carl and Patrick walked off. "Who are they looking for?" I asked Abby, who shrugged. It was the answer I knew I'd get, but not the one I wanted. She knew as little as I did, and it was frustrating because I wanted to know what was going on as much as the next person. "Let's go," I said, and we walked past the car and up the hill, following the others into the courtyard and inside the prison walls.
Bring me home in a blinding dream,
Through the secrets that I have seen
Wash the sorrow from off my skin
And show me how to be whole again
'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass
Hardly anything there for you to see
For you to see
