I've never done a lot of things. I've never been to prison- for real. I've never drank alcohol or taken drugs. I've never worn make up. I've never stole anything. I've never kissed a boy. I've never killed an actual human being. And until now, I've never seen Carl Grimes with dim eyes.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I step closer, he extends his hand outward, trying to keep me back.
"It means I'm not going to A. That place is a death trap. You go there to die." he swallows and sniffs again, "But it also means you have to stay away from me."
"Never." I shake my head, "I can't force you to go to A Block. I get that. But if you're not gonna go, then someone has to take care of you, Carl."
"I'm fine," he coughs, "I haven't even got it that bad."
I stare at him for a long time, he is not fine, I know it. How can he tell me this when he's curled into the corner, the sweat ring around his collar too pronounced, coughing and sniffling. He tries to obscure his face with that damn hat again.
I'm done, I'm done be careful and timid and tryin' to mind every damn person. I'm done trying not to come off as scary and bossy and demanding, because that's what I feel like, and Goddammit I have to be that way now.
I walk over to him, he turns away, and I kneel beside him, removing his hat, "Come on now, lie down."
"Don't do this to yourself," he coughs, "I can take care of myself. I'll be fine." His hair is damp with sweat and sticks to his neck. His breathing is shaky. No, he's not fine at all.
I shake my head, and push on his shoulder, indicating for him to lie down. He looks at me and I look back at him.
"How come you get to be the boss of me?" He chuckles
"Because I'm older," I lift my head, with slight arrogance.
"By two months," Carl defends himself. He's smiling, and it doesn't look painful, "To the day."
I smile back, "Well I have the advantage." Then I get serious again, "So lie down, Goddammit."
He rolls his eyes and I think I've finally beaten his stubbornness. That's when I know how sick he really is. Carl wouldn't normally follow orders so easily. He lies down, I find the blanket he threw to side a while ago. I ball it up and place it under his head, adding to his pillow. His eyes start to close, the poor kid is exhausted.
"Daryl and them will be back anytime now. I'll just steal some of the antibiotics when they get back. You'll be back on your feet in no time." I push the hair that's fallen over his eyes away.
"You're an idiot," he shakes his head, but his voice is mumbling, he's on his way out. I stroke his hair a little while longer. And then his breathing evens and I get to my feet. I have to keep his temperature down. I take one last glance at him, I won't be gone long. The people who worked here must've had something. Cough drops, ibuprofen, something. Anything.
I have luck, the room we're in has a half a bottle of aspirin and three honey lemon cough drops pushed at the very back of a paper crammed drawer. I set them on top of the desk.
The next three rooms only have a couple of tissues and napkins. But it's better than nothing. I stuff them in my pocket. The next room has a couple bottles of water and a small pack of saltine crackers. I find a nearly empty box of Benadryl. I begin to wonder why they didn't think to check the admin desks earlier. But I'm thankful they didn't. The last two rooms I try have more napkins, part of a bottle of Delsym, and 3 bottles of water.
It'll have to do, and whatever the case it's better than what I started with. No one notices me and I make it back to the room with Carl quite easily. I kick the door shut behind me, and Carl stirs. I set down the recovered supplies. He sits up and just watches me. He props himself up on his elbows and he looks a little better, somehow.
"Thought you said you weren't gonna leave me?" He lifts a tired, dark eyebrow.
"Not for long," I roll my eyes, I'm glad he can keep a light tone in times like this. I toss a water bottle to him, which was a poor decision upon retrospect. He fumbles with it and after a few moments his fingers grasp the bottle tightly. His fingertips turn white as he unscrews the bottle, like he's afraid he's going to drop it. I grab the aspirin bottle and walk over to him, he's already drank half the bottle.
"Whoa there, you might wanna slow down. Don't wanna choke yourself now." I regret the words the moment they pass my lips. Carl stops and swallows, looking at me. "I...I..."I trail off and look away. I unscrew the aspirin bottle and pour two out. I hand them to Carl.
"Two aspirin every eight hours," I tell him. He presses his palm to his mouth with the pills and takes another drink of water. I let out a small sigh once he's swallowed, yes, this should help. He coughs into his elbow, no point in trying to cover it up anymore.
I grit my teeth and walk back over to the table and grab the Delsym, which is cough syrup. Luckily the measuring cup is the lid. I pour the recommended two tablespoons, and bring it to Carl. I sit cross-legged beside him. My shoes just barely touching his side.
"Drink up." I hand it to him and he death grips it. He drinks and swallows it, wretching almost immediately.
"This is disgusting," his lips purse, and I laugh at his twisted expression.
"Do you enjoy this Sam?" He's running his teeth over his tongue, and drinking more water.
I laugh and shrug. He smirks slightly, but his eyelids are already drooping again. And my smile turns into the corners of my mouth being slightly upturned. I place the back of my hand against his forehead, he still burns. Any trace of a smile vanishes and I stand again. I get another water bottle and those tissues and napkins. I sit down again and hand him the tissues, he grasps them in his right hand. I unscrew the water bottle and dampen the napkin. I place the wet napkin against his forehead and blot. He settles back into a lying down position and his fever ridden left hand finds mine. It's burning and sweating, but I don't let go. He holds it tightly and gives it one squeeze.
In that squeeze I translate a silent thank you. He knows deep down that he needed help. I'm not doing this for any particular lust or romantic act of devotion. I'm doing it to keep him alive. Because everyone deserves a chance.
Soon his eyes are closed and the grip slackens. I continue to blot his forehead. A few hours pass and his body cools some. The fever reluctantly breaks and more sweat runs down his still face. I hate to leave him, but I need to know what's going on. As I'm contemplating getting up or not, the sound of gunshots settles it.
I'm up and out the door, sprinting, without a second thought. I slam into Beth who's just left her room from undoubtedly putting Judith down for her afternoon nap.
Beth grips my elbows, steadying and stopping me at the same time. "That came from A," she explains, "You can't go."
I give her a severe look, "Your dad."
"Don't remind me," her kind standard dissolves and she gives me an angered look.
"Please," I beg, "Someone has to go. And you have to stay here."
"But you're not exposed!" She protests.
"Yes I am," I'm so furious and desperate I don't control what I'm saying. Great, now I have to find a way not to tell her about Carl. "I saw Patrick. In his last moments? Yeah, he was hacking everywhere. Don't try and tell me I'm not exposed. Please Beth, just trust me."
She looks at me for a while, "Don't say I told you so," she sighs and releases me.
"Carl!" Rick calls. Shit. Carl can't come right now, leave a message, beep.
"Carl!" Rick hisses. He calls one more time and I round the corner, sliding, Rick's flashlight shining on my face.
"I heard gunshots," I'm panting slightly
"Where's Carl?" Rick's voice tightens up.
"With Judith," I lie through my teeth, Rick can't know. He can't know, "he told me to come instead."
"I need his help," his eyes scan me, and I can tell they don't believe me for a second.
"I'll have to do," I shrug. He starts out the door and I follow. We're running and running, down the gravel driveway to the fences.
We make it to the fence and my eyes widen when I see the massive amount of pile up on the fences. Where's the fence cleaners? Shouldn't they be out here. Unless. The power of the situation hits me and I realize there really aren't enough healthy people left.
"Come on, I need you to help me get these support beams in," Rick waves his arm and I pick up the pace. We get right to work and Rick holds up a log and I nail a stake into place. It holds. We move onto the next one until there's about ten up.
"Think they're ok?" I ask Rick, referring to the people in A.
"If thangs were goin' bad, we'd a heard more shots. Maggie would've come and gotten us," Rick reassures me, "We have to do this." there's no denying it, without these supports, this fence is going to crumble. But still, I look at Rick and I don't see a farmer, I don't see a man that willingly stands by as he knows people are being attacked. He's doing this because he has to. And if he had a choice, if he wasn't trying to set a good example for his son, he'd be in there right now. Doing what he was made for. I don't tell him this, I can't. This has to be done.
Rick goes for the next support beam and I hold onto the stake that's gonna keep the beam up.
"Want some help?" I offer
Rick shakes his head, "I got it." I help him anyway and we get the beam into position.
"Alright, set it down," I bend down to reach for my hammer when I hear a very bad sound. Cracking wood. I look up and one of the beams is bending. In a heartbeat it snaps and Rick and I run to it. He tries to keep the fence up with his body, but right away it's no use. Another beam goes down and the walkers push through. My heart pounds at a million miles an hour.
I turn and run and hope Rick's behind me. I hear the roar of moaning walkers and I can hear them thumping along behind me. I push my legs harder and I sprint faster. My lungs burn. I can't stop. I won't stop. Never.
I hear stumbling and I whirl my head around, "Come on Rick!" I scream and he pounds after me, recovering. I don't know what I'd do if Rick died on my watch. I doubt anyone would ever forgive me. We make it to one of the fence-side watch towers and I throw the door open, Rick runs inside and slams the door shut a moment later. We're safe, for now.
Rick's panting hard and so am I, but the groan of walkers on the other side of the door tell us we're not finished yet. I hear them, piling up, more and more. Like all the walkers in world heard the news and came to the all-you-can-eat Rick and Sam buffet.
"Go!" Rick shouts and I turn and get to the other side of the tower. I throw the door open and out we go. There's the fence though, and there's the walkers. Never far behind. The push against the fence and I know a second wave is on the way.
I force my tone clear and even, I turn to Rick, "What do we do?"
He looks around and he's reluctant I know, I know what we can do, but he offers something else instead, "Maybe I can back the bus up against the fence."
"It won't hold," I shake my head.
Rick sighs knowingly and he pushes me along, "Come on." Rick knows what we have to do. The fence strains to hold them back and I know exactly where we're headed. We just have to get there.
The armory. Really it's just laundry carts pressed up against the fences filled with weapons. But right about now it'll do just fine.
Rick hands me ammo first, I stuff my pockets with as much as they'll hold. Next he hands me a semi-automatic gun. "Got it?" he asks. I nod. It's heavy, but not overwhelmingly so. I think most of it is me holding a weapon as dangerous as this again.
The walkers are shaking the fence, they can smell us. So much fresh meat, so close and yet, so far. I gulp hard. Ok, Rick. Crash-course me on automatic guns, you have approximately one minute before those walkers break through that fence. Go.
The adrenaline is pumping so much now that Rick's voice is just another echo among the chaos, I force myself to focus and listen to what he's saying, "Listen to me. Magazine goes in here." He points to the bottom, he slides his in, "Release his here." he points somewhere else, "Make sure it latches." he smacks the magazine in one more time, we're running again towards the walkers, "Pull back the operating rod, the rounds speed up. Squeeze the trigger for rapid fire, ok?" he looks to me for confirmation, I just swallow my fear and doubt and just nod.
"You shoot, or you run," he tells me. I gulp even harder. I can't run. There's no way I'm running, "Don't get close." his eyes are the same color as Carl's and they are set determinedly on me. Just as I turn to the fence, it tumbles down. And walkers begin to pour through. They stumble and stagger towards us and my finger hits the trigger and I aim. I forgot how good I was with a gun. My first few shots are messy and only hit in the chest, but I adjust to the kick back and soon it's head shots near every time.
It's a blur really, all I know is the sun keeps moving and we keep shooting, my shoulder begins to ache, but I don't stop. Not until they're all on the ground. I don't think about anything else except for where I aim and my proximity to the nearest walker. They never manage to get within five feet. Rick shoots with twice the expertise I do and we make good progress. Then one gets too close and Rick's out of ammo. He slams it in the head with the butt of the gun and I finish it off. I toss Rick an extra magazine and he loads it up, I continue to shoot, but I can feel his eyes burrowing into the back of my skull. I realize that he's thinking about how similarly Carl would act in this situation, and then I realize that Carl is the one that's supposed to be here right now, not me.
More walkers, I tell myself, don't get distracted. I take down four or five more. Then I'm empty. I pull out the empty magazine and slide in the new one, I smack it and make sure it's in place. And I start up again. Down they go. One by one.
Then they're all down, and the one's we hadn't completely done in we stab out their brains with what we find. It's tedious, but I'm exhausted, so it's ok. Between the silence and the gut wrenching noise of brains being squashed. I hear a new noise. I look up.
It's a car.
Daryl.
They're back.
"Go!" Rick urges me, someone has to open up the gates, "I'll finish up here."
I drop the gun and the crowbar that I'd been holding, it's nearly sunset now and I'm sprinting. All the energy that I thought had faded comes back to me. I'm at the gates and I'm yanking on the pulley and the gates open, Rick's not far behind and he gets the real gate. I close the orange doors with the pulley system and I run to the car that pulls up the gravel driveway. It stops and people pile out, Rick shuts the big gate and I help people with their bags.
I offer to run it up to the main prison and Michonne and Tyreese nod. Daryl and Bob say thanks, but they've got it. I wouldn't have helped Bob anyway. I run, and as I run I pocket some of the antibiotics and supplies for an I.V. but I hope that it won't have to come to that. It's for Carl, I remind myself. It's for Carl. I only take enough to go unnoticed but get the job done at the same time. I find Hershel at the entrance to A Block and I hand him the two bags filled with medications. He thanks me and I finally stop running.
The adrenaline ebbs the longer I walk. Rick catches up with me again. He tells me that I've done good. But I'm not really listening. I know how he looked at me. He wasn't shocked. He was reminded. About what we can do. What we're capable of doing. Me and Carl. We never really changed.
We walk into the admin building and Rick calls for Carl, once, and I wince. Twice, still nothing, three times. And Carl walks from around the corner. He wears the hat and the sleeves on his flannel are rolled down. He looks a little better, the fact that he made it here that quick is comforting. But his shoulders sag, and his hat is drawn close over his face. He's just covering up so his dad won't see.
"Where've you been?" Rick examines his son, I stand behind Rick, only to observe. Carl looks at us for a moment, and I subtly make a rocking motion with my arms.
"With Judith," he says almost immediately, he does the cough thing to clear his throat.
"Why didn't you come when I called?" Rick narrows his eyes, "Or when you heard the gunshots?"
"I figured Sam had it under control," he shrugs. I swear our brains are on the same wavelength sometimes.
Rick nods a little, gritting his teeth, "Well, next time, I expect you to come when I call you, alright?"
"Alright," Carl nods, Rick nods at his son and then leaves. When the door shuts behind Rick, I go to Carl and he leans against me. His breathing is labored.
"I got the meds," I tell him and he nods, I look around the corner and it's clear. We walk by the room with my books and Carl stops.
"What is it?" my eyes go to his filled with concern.
"I want you to get a book and read it to me," he says.
My eyes light up and I look at him curiously, "Oh really?"
He coughs and nods, "Will you please fulfill the sick child's wish?" he says with a mocking tone. It takes me back before the world went to shit, when you watched those commercials about terminally ill children and you called in and donated money.
I give a little laugh and we go into the office. I make sure Carl is comfortable in the stray office chair that is pushed into the corner and I go to the desk.
"And what would Mr. Grimes like for me to read for him?" I use the same tone as Carl and he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
"Surprise me," he chuckles, he shifts in the chair and it squeaks. I look in the desk drawers again, and I can feel his eyes on me. But it's not the same as with Rick. He's not shocked, or even horrified. It's different, and it makes my whole face go red. I flip through my classics, and one story in particular makes me stop. Peter Pan, the Story of the Lost Boy.
I look up at Carl, his eyes are still pretty dim, but they are soft on mine. My face burns with a blush and then he realizes he's been staring and he turns red too. I offer a shy smile, some things just don't change. I stick the book in the waistband of my jeans, zip up my jacket, shut the drawer to the desk, and walk back over to Carl.
I extend my hand to him and he takes it. I pull him up and I wrap my arm around his waist and he puts his arm my shoulder for support. He's shaky on his feet you know. He lets go of me whenever we pass a room with people in it, but once the coast is clear, he leans heavily on me again. We get him back to the room and carefully we get him on the ground. He lies down with his resting on the pillow and blanket. I kneel beside him, he looks up at me, and I remove his hat. I stand back up and grab the supplies that sit on the table. I reset up shop next to Carl so every time he needs something new I won't have to get up again and again.
I deposit the stolen medications from my pockets. There goes one never. I read the labels and give them to Carl accordingly, on top of the Delsym and aspirin. He gags again after downing the cough syrup. And I give him another bottle of water. He tries to be more conservative with this one. Once he's all drugged up, I realize that my stomach is grumbling. We never got the chance to eat. I tell Carl that'll I'll be right back, and I go to where we normally serve the food.
"Hey, is there any leftovers?" I ask Beth
"Yeah, there's some for you and Carl," she nods in front of her. It's two plates of mostly fruit, but also a little beef jerky.
"Thanks Beth," I give her a gratuitous smile and take the plates. This is will go nicely with the saltines I found. I'm about to turn and leave, but she catches my arm.
"I know Sam," her eyes are still on mine and I swallow hard.
"You can't-" I begin, she cuts me off.
"I won't, but just know, what you're doing is stupid," she turns back to Judith and I walk away. My gut tumbling around with mixed emotions.
I nudge the door open with my hip and kick it closed behind me, there's Carl, he's still here. I tell myself. It's all gonna be ok. I give him his plate and he nods at. He eats slower than I've ever seen him eat before, but that's probably only to keep his gut in check.
"How you feelin'?" I ask once I've eaten all my fruit
"Better," he nods a little.
My heart pulls sadly, and the question that's rung in my mind finally comes out, "You don't plan on leaving me, do ya?" I ask honestly. He looks at me for a moment, dim, blue eyes sad against my ugly blue gray ones, which too are sad.
"Never."