Allostatic Load 10

Ron waited patiently on the couch with his body twisted to face the door. The silent hickory disturbed him, no one had come in or out. By now it was late, his mother had already told him to go to bed and that Carl had probably just gone back to his house and fallen asleep. After all, he looked exhausted but, something felt so... Off.

Maybe it was time to face the fact that what happened this afternoon was a mistake. Ron had pushed his boundaries and possibly made his friend uncomfortable.

God, why was he such a prude? He laid back on the couch and tried to think of something, more positive.

Carl woke slowly to the sound of water sloshing around, his eyes took their time fluttering open to take in the shift in surroundings.

This place was surely not the living room or Alexandria for that matter. This was much different. He could barely make out anything but a brick wall, faintly In the distance. Water pooled below his feet, tinted dark brown with mud and, something slightly red, presumably blood. He quickly found that his arms were restrained above him by a thick rope that dug into the skin on his wrist. Panic soon set in. If a walker were to stumble into him, he had no way of defending himself. It was too dark to see anything anyways. The only visible light was far down coming from a grate of some sort that cast a set of bars onto the muddy water.

"Hello child, you're awake."

Carl's head snapped to his left, or to wherever the voice had come from. The lack of sunlight prevented him from seeing anything. He wanted so badly to pretend that this was a dream but he knew that he hadn't had a real dream since the quarry days.

A light temporarily blinded him as a flashlight was turned on to face him.

The light on his face made it almost impossible to see the mystery behind the torch. But all Carl could make out was a pasty yellow smile with deep and dark holes in the teeth of a man with gritted stubble covered in an odd grease that made his stomach churn and the whites of two eyes staring back at him.

"Are you ready to tell me who your people are yet?"

Carl closed his eyes and shook his head earning a slap from the rigid hand of the man.

"Oh really now?"

Carl turned his head away his hands began to quiver above his head, he was cold, scared and was unable to do anything about it.

"Tell me now girl, I'm not here to waste time."

Carl barely heard the misuse of gender, he was too busy thinking about getting back to the walls.

The man began to hack and cough. Saliva dripped down from his lips as he looked like he was about to break out in a sweat. He gave off the impression that he was going to turn...

"I'm n-not a girl," Carl said shakily.

The man raised his arm once again and smacked his cheek. The putrid smell of the man's fingers made him gag.

The greasy fingers grasp onto the pure locks of long hair and pulled his head down. By now Carl's scalp was burning.

"Tell. Me."

Ron paced around the driveway of his home, he didn't mean to but he debated going to Carl's house to see if he was alright. His franticness drew the attention of some citizens, who asked if he was ok, seeing that a teenage boy was pacing back and fourth in his own driveway at 10:00 at night.

Soon enough he made up his mind and would just go over, Carl is hopeful wouldn't mind.

Hopefully.

Ron rubbed his palms on his shirt and went to knock on the door. He knocked once before the door opened by itself.

Ron looked down. He hadn't noticed the Black footprints covering the porch, ones much bigger than anyone who lived in his house.

The lights were shut off, leaving the house pitch black except for the moonlight. but the footprints trailed into the living room. He cautiously followed them. The trail wasn't long, it stopped at the couch, right next to Carl's signature sheriff's hat.

An object poked at his back, the movement was sudden and he slid back. A shooting pain ran up his back.

"Turn around with your hands up."

Slowly, he leaned forward and turned around.

The woman lowered her samurai sword and put her palm on her forehead.

"You scared the hell out of me kid."

Michonne was her name, the two had never spoken aside from a few "excuse me" or "sorries" and Ron had certainly never seen her with a weapon inside the walls.

She slid the sword back into its sheath and moved Ron to the side. He had been frozen, looking down at the ground and nervously picking at the threads on her jeans.

"I saw Carl walk in here but never come out, do you know anything about that?"

"N-no ma'am!"

She walked Ron over to his house, luckily, the family had still been asleep. He was instructed to stay in the house. But really, there was no way they could keep him from exploiting the walls.

As soon as the woman had stepped out of sight Ron exited the back door and followed her to the edge of the walls.

She looked up at the walls and hesitated for a moment but then gave a small sigh before climbing the first foothold and scrambling up the sides. Almost as quickly as Enid.

After she disappeared he waited for a few, his heart was pounding slowly against his ribs.

Carl was gone and might be scared or trapped somewhere and Ron wanted to be the first person to set him free and to see the look in his eyes...

If he was alive...

The thought made him want to purge but also gave him all the more reason to want to follow Michonne.

Ron had difficulties getting over the side but nearly fell to the ground after reaching the other side.

"You do realize that you're making a bad decision," Michonne called with her back up against a nearby oak.

He gulped. The glare in her eyes made his blood run cold. It was already too late to turn back now.

Twigs and leaves found their way into the beige locks of the teen, he stood up and started to regain his composure. Michonne had left to take care of a few walkers and since Ron was already over the walls it became her responsibility to watch out for him, they both knew this.

After a bit of walking, he eventually caught up to her without getting eaten. Her eyes studied the ground, even though it was dark it appeared as if she was tracking something, like a dog.

Of course, Ron kept quiet, not wanting to disturb the process of hunting or attract any more of the undead.

His hands burned against the rope now the skin must have been ripped off due to the attempted escapes, pain in his stomach made him want to purge. He missed Ron, he missed him so much. He must have thought that Carl had abandoned him or never wanted to speak to him again. This was the other feeling in the pit of his body, guilt.

A sliver of hope told him that his father, Daryl, and Michonne were out there right now, looking for him... He has to stay strong.

For them...

Hi, I've been busy as heck and boy lemme tell ya, I thought I'd lose motivation to do this but Nah, it's still going (or, at least, I'll try to keep it going.) haha.