Okay, so I did sort of rush through this one as I'm on a time crunch, but it's Carl centric this time so I hope that makes up for it. Forgive my mistakes. As always, I look forward to your reviews and feedback. I honestly just want to entertain you guys so I hope this satisfies at least a little.

Shout it outs:

JaspersLilRed – That's exactly what I say every time I see Daryl come onscreen :D (sorry, fan mode activated unintentionally). As a faithful follower, I salute you and give you the crown to my kingdom. Unfortunately, it's a very small kingdom, but we have cake!

ReedusRocks – Yet another unsuspecting person I've captured with black magic. I apologize for corrupting you. Muahaha!

DarylDixon'sLover – I love a good Yay! And a yay to you my pleasant reviewer!

ripper34 – I have a soft spot for you ripper34, you have been an excellent constant in my reviews.

Where is he? Carl had been waiting silently for the better half of the day for Gareth to come back. He was never particularly good at sitting still and it was taking all he had to keep his position. The nervous anticipation had died down a while back and all that was left was impatience. He was ready to get this over with.

As he waited, he thought back to the first day he'd been brought to the room with four kennels; it seemed like a lifetime ago. He'd been confused and tense, but he hadn't expected what was coming. It had never crossed his mind, when he agreed to walk away from his group, that maybe he was heading straight into the arms of a monster.

Carl had been too arrogant, thinking he could easily get away from the wiry man. He'd tried to take Gareth's keys and get out of there. It was a memory that made him wince, not only because of the pain he'd received afterwards, but because he had been willing to leave Sam behind. He hadn't given her a second thought. Now, he couldn't even imagine leaving her all alone to face Gareth's horrors for however long he chose to let her live.

He consoled himself with the knowledge that he'd honestly thought she might be dead and unrisen. It wasn't much of a comfort, especially as his free hand rose to touch the place between his neck and shoulder where his first bite had been. If he had really managed to escape back then, he'd never have been hurt like that, but Sam would have taken his place.

Carl could still feel the crescent indentations left behind. It didn't hurt like it had the first day, but, then again, that particular wound hadn't been nearly as deep as the others he'd received. He knew there would be scars, just like Sam had. Carl decided, in that moment, if he never saw his own body in a mirror again, that would be just fine with him.

Wait. Carl's mind drifted backwards, replaying every second of his failed escape, picking up on something he'd completely failed to notice. Something Gareth had said and done didn't add up to their current predicament.

He racked his brain trying to place what it was nagging at his mind. There it was: the keys. Gareth had held them up in front of Carl's face as he gripped him around the waist, "Door locks from the outside; gotta use these to get out."

He'd said it, the door locked from the outside, but, if there was no key hole, what good were the keys? How did Gareth get out every time he paid them a visit? He tried to remember what the key ring had held, tried to recall every time Gareth had left them. He had always heard the jiggle of the keys, but Gareth had always blocked his view when he opened the door.

"Sam," he called, voice barely above a whisper.

She rattled the door of her cage to let him know she'd heard. They'd decided it was the best place for her to be when Gareth entered. Carl not being in his cage was a given, but if she wasn't in hers, Gareth would be suspicious. They couldn't take the chance that he'd slam the door on them before their plan began. Not to mention, Carl didn't trust the Walker one bit. It was bad enough that he had to be out in the open with it, but if things went wrong, he wanted Sam out of the way.

Carl stood on numb legs that protested against his own weight, "I want to get a look at something," he hesitated, "Um, would you come over here for a minute. If he comes back while I'm by the door you'll have to let her out instead. I don't think he will, but, just in case."

He heard her scramble out of her cage before he saw her crawl towards him. He wondered if that was a tactical choice or if she couldn't trust herself to stand. He hoped it was the first one and not the second. If Gareth did come back before they returned to their positions, he didn't want her helplessly left next to the Walker, unable to defend herself.

Against his will he imagined the Walker turning on her, ripping her apart. When she reached Carl's side he made the choice that could simultaneously save her life and put his in harm's way. He slipped the pocket knife into her hand, "Just in case, okay?"

He thought she might refuse, but she took it with a simple nod. He shuffled out of the way, allowing her to take his place beside the Walker's kennel. The Walker inside snarled, reaching a porcelain white hand out towards Sam as she scooted into Carl's spot. He really didn't want her to be that close to it, but he needed to check the door one more time. They couldn't afford any hiccups.

He limped forward, the numbness in his injured ankle giving way to a sharp stabbing pain. Man up, Carl. He forced himself to walk as normally as he could while placing as little of his weight on his foot as possible. His ribs still squeezed the breath out of him with each step, but he could already feel an improvement there. As long as he didn't try to breathe deeply, he could manage.

He reached the door, aware that the light was as dim as it usually was in their small prison, especially where the door stood. The light never seemed to quite reach it. There's no way I could miss an entire keyhole, right? He lowered his head, inspecting the area around the handle. No, it's not there. The space where a key would normally fit was nowhere to be found. He pressed his fingers around the door handle, searching for any sign of a way out.

He slammed his fist against the door, temporarily forgetting himself, "I don't get it! How does he get out?"

He felt it then, a small indentation far above the door's handle. He ran his thumb over it, looking up and squinting to see what it was his touch couldn't identify. He pressed the nail of his thumb into the small opening and laughed, "I'm an idiot."

There was a keyhole; it just wasn't where he had expected. It was above his own eye level, but it was there.

He whirled around, too quickly in his excitement, "Owe, ugh," he inhaled sharply before yelling, "Sam, it's here. I found it, the way out. I just need the knife."

Carl was stupidly happy that he'd been wrong all along. He'd given up too easily, but they were so close now. With one hand lightly placed on the handle and the other pressing against the keyhole, he couldn't help the grin that spread on his face as he waited for Sam to bring him the pocket knife. Just a little bit more and- he felt the handle of the door turning. No, he thought in horror, not now.

Cliffhangers are just too fun not to do. Apologies :P