Sophia watched as the prison wall exploded between them and Ani. Even over the deafening ring in her ears, she could hear Ani yelling at Merle to get out, to go. She began to fight against Merle, insisting they had to go back, they had to find Ani, make sure she got out too, but Merle wasn't having it. Hoisting her over his shoulder once more in a way that she could only slump there, willing away the tears that fell traitorously down her face, he grabbed a bug out bag from one of the many stashes all over the prison, this one marked with a 'k' and ran like hell through the admin building and out the back. It was only her arm that got hurt, she could've still fought. Ani could still be with them if she hadn't have gotten shot, Sophia thought, and the fact that the shot wasn't even that bad, just what felt like a graze, upset her even more. As they finally made their way out of danger and around towards the water back towards the railroads, Sophia finally had enough and kicked Merle hard in the gut.
"You left her!" she exclaimed angrily and overly emotional. "She was right there and you left her!"
"I had to, girly," Merle said. "You don't see your arm like I do. I gotta see if the bullet's still in there."
"It's just a graze!"
"Hell no it ain't! Adrenaline's runnin' through your veins, girl, not lettin' you feel the pain," Merle told her sternly while taking off his button up shirt and using his teeth and hand to tear it. "You've got a hole in your arm, Phia. I've gotta make sure the bullet's out, and then we're gonna field dress it. You see any of them herbs Ani taught you 'bout?"
"There," Sophia pointed, sombered by the fact that she did, in fact, have a hole in her left shoulder. "That's yarrow. And that's plantain. And we can use some of that wooly lamb's ear's leaves to dress the wound. Crush the yarrow and plantain together, then put it on the lamb's ear."
"You really do know your stuff, girly. Damn bit proud of ya for that. Ani is too," Merle told her, very impressed at the girl's knowledge and fast reaction time to getting a hold of herself. "Now, I'm gonna look at this. If the bullet's in there, I'm gonna have to dig it out, and all I've got's my knife for that. You're gonna have to bite a stick and hold in a scream, or I'm gonna have to knock you out. Are you prepared for this?"
"No," she said honestly, her voice small and weak. "I wihs Ani was here."
"Well, she ain't. Neither is Daryl. No point in wishin' when we just gotta catch up to 'em. 'Til then, we got each other. I've got you, Phia. No worries about that."
"Do you really think we'll find them?"
"Of course we will, if they don't find us first," Merle told her as he rolled the sleeve of her shirt away. "Who do you think taught Daryl how to track, how to hunt? Sure, boy's got a sense of smell and direction I couldn't ever with my days on the hard stuff, hearing's like a damn bat's I swear. But I was the one that taught him the basics. My guess, we'll be circlin' each other like hawks on roadkill 'fore too long. Now, Phia, ya gotta make a choice. I can knock you out, or you hold back your scream. That bullet it right there in plain sight."
"I can handle it. If Ani can do it, I can too," Sophia said bravely.
Merle looked at her and said, "Gonna have to take your shirt off, girly. Need to tell what's blood and what's wound. And you can't move that arm much, so I'm gonna have to help." Seeing her visibly stiffen at that, he carefully chose his next words so as not to upset her, nor show how angry he was at her response. Taking a leaf out of Ani's playbook on how to deal with trauma (a 'class' she taught him when he asked for her help with Sophia), he detailed the plan to the young girl beginning to shake in front of him. "I've got a towel right here, we gonna wrap it around ya. I won't see nothin', girly. Ain't touchin' nothin' either but your shoulder and arms. I ain't your old man tryin' to cop a feel, I promise you that. You're my kin, Phia, have been for a while. Don't take me for your parents. I ain't gonna fail you like they did, I promise you. So trust me. Let's get this towel around you, and then you're gonna use your good arm to bring your shirt up over the towel, and I'll help get it off your shoulders and head. Then, I'm gonna dig that bullet out, clean the wound up and dress it up with them plants you told me 'bout and get a new shirt on you, a loose one that'll fit around the towel so you can take the towel off when you're nice and proper. I ain't your daddy, I'm your Pops, girly, and I ain't gonna pull that shit with ya."
"Okay," came her weak reply.
Doing exactly as he said he would, Merle wrapped the towel around her and made it a point of turning away until she told him she needed help. Turning back to her, he carefully helped her good arm out of her shirt before getting it up and over her head and slowly took the garment off her wounded shoulder as she held the towel white-knuckled to her skinny body. Giving her a stick to put in between her teeth and telling her to bite down, he began to dig the bullet out of her shoulder with the tip of his knife. It only took a moment to get the damn thing out, but Sophia was trembling with pain and sweating profusely and Merle himself had a minor case of the shakes. Tending a wounded soldier on the battlefield was one thing; taking a bullet out of a little girl was something completely different. Double checking which plants and which parts he needed, Merle balked momentarily when Sophia told him he'd have to chew the plants together before he could put them on the wound.
"What do you mean chew?!" he asked incredulously.
"It's the sap and juices of the plant that do the healing part, Pops," she told him, her voice tight and strained. "I can do it if you don't want to. Ani showed me how."
"No, I got it girly. Just, how that damn tonic tasted, this ain't gonna taste any better," he griped before popping some of the herbs in his mouth as he used Sophia's old shirt and some water to clean the wound.
When he was done, he grabbed some of the leaves of the plant she'd called wooly lamb's ear and smeared the disgusting tasting concoction onto the broad leaf. Placing it on her shoulder, he used the straps from his outer shirt as a makeshift bandage and wrapped her up nice and tight so that she couldn't use the shoulder too much. Then, he fetched a shirt that looked to be about the size Ani wore, so a few sizes too big for Sophia, and helped put it over her injured shoulder. Getting her head through the hole, she said she could take it from there, Merle just nodding and standing up and turning around. In short order she said she was ready, but the shirt was too long.
"Twist it around until it's tight on your midriff, then tie it in a knot," Merle told her. "No, not like...No, you gotta...Dammit girly, c'mere." He grabbed up the bottom of the shirt with his hand and twisted. "Okay, you gotta help me with this part. Gotta make a loop and pull it through. Yeah, that's it."
"Is it okay to wear it like this? Isn't this Maggie's shirt?"
"Won't be carin' none 'bout a few wrinkles. Not like we pulled the shirt outta order," Merle shrugged. "Now c'mon. Gotta get a move on 'fore the biters get here. Maybe find one or two of the others."
In the end, they'd slept in a car, Merle in the front seat while Sophia got the back and the blanket that was in the pack. They continued their search in the morning, traveling past the roadway and into the woods, not even bothering going back to the prison. When Sophia suggested it, Merle simply asked if she knew what way any of the others went (she didn't) and if they had a trail to follow with all those walkers mucking up the place (they didn't). As such, the only thing they could do was continue hoofing it until they could either find someplace safe to hold up or found their people. Whichever came first, Merle had said, they'd figure it out from there. It was mid morning the next day when they found the first real clue that someone had survived.
"That's Michonne's handiwork right there," Merle commented, looking at the mass of dead walkers. "Ain't Ani 'cause the heads are clean off! Only Michonne can do that."
"You could if you had your knife-hand back, Pops," Sophia complimented.
"Naw, not like this, sweetie. Not this clean. 'Sides, lookie there, arms and mouths off. It's Michy alright," he said, puckering his lips and looking around. "C'mon, we got 'er tracks right here. Ain't too old neither." Following the trail, they managed to find an actual trail-way, like a hiking path, with several sets of muddy footprints. "Aye, lookie here, girly. Got a few of 'em."
"That's Carl's!" Sophia said excitedly, pointing to one set of prints in particular. "He got out! I wonder if Judith did too! But, I don't see Ani's."
"Don't you be worryin' 'bout Ani. Girl's probably circlin' us as we speak," Merle said, hoping he sounded as certain as he was trying to. Truth was, he had no clue if she was even alive, her or his brother. "Let's get goin'. We'll find 'em."
He went as fast as the little girl could manage trying to catch up to Michonne. They'd just spotted a biker bar up ahead when someone walked out of it. Merle scrunched his eyes trying to see who it was, but it was when the other thing walking fell with a slump that he was sure he knew who he was seeing.
"Hey! Michy!" he shouted out, making the woman pause and turn. A shit eating grin formed on both his and the woman's faces as he turned to Sophia and said, "See, didn't ol' Pops tell ya!"
~x~
Carl was walking silently in front of his dad. He was angry, pissed, that his dad wanted to talk it out, when Ani had told them time and time again that the Governor was bad news and wanted everyone dead or otherwise dispersed. Now, Ani was gone. Michonne was gone. Sophia gone. Judith...He shook his head to clear the image of her bloody car seat out of his mind as he trudged forward, even as his dad called out for him to stop.
"Carl, stop!" Rick shouted a second time, more demanding. "We need to stick together. We gotta find a place with food, supplies." He noticed that Carl wasn't looking at him or even responding, so he put his hand on his shoulder and said, "Hey. We're gonna be..."
The words died on his tongue as Carl looked at him with a withering gaze, telling Rick everything he needed to know about his son's state of mind. Like Lori had with Shane and Ani, Carl blamed him for the downfall of the prison and Judith...Even Rick couldn't bring himself to think about that. Carl just shook his head again and trudged forward, leaving Rick to hobble along behind him. They continued like that for quite some time before they found an old biker bar. Walking up to door, Rick and Carl both pulled their guns, Rick leaning heavily on the door frame as he opened the screen.
"Wait outside, okay?" he told Carl. "Keep watch."
"You keep watch," Carl spat right back. "You can barely stand. I'm not gonna let you go in there alone."
"Excuse me?" Rick told him in an authoritative voice.
"We've done this before," Carl told him before grumbling, "I'm gonna help you clear it. You should just let me do it myself."
Rick had to swallow his pride at the look Carl was giving him, saying "Let's go," before they both entered and began clearing. "Kitchen's clear." Moving into the dining parlor, they found a walker barricaded behind tables and chairs along with a few supplies. "That might be all that's left," Rick commented.
"I can get it from here," Carl commented, aiming his shot perfectly.
"No," Rick said. "No, it's weak. I'll draw it out. Stay back."
Carl picked up a piece of paper and read 'please do what I couldn't' on it as Rick moved some of the barricade. Using the ax he picked up, Rick tried to kill the thing, but he was so weak from the beating he'd taken from the Governor that he wasn't able to get a clean cleave. The ax embedded itself in the skull, but didn't penetrate it to get to the brain. Instead, he couldn't get the damn thing back out. He yelled at Carl not to, but Carl had already lined up his shot and pulled the trigger, bringing the thing down.
Rick rounded on Carl angrily, "I said not to!"
"You couldn't do it with the ax!" Carl shot back, just as heated.
"I had it," Rick said. "Every bullet counts. What if you needed that one for later? See what you can find, then let's move on."
He turned his back on his son then, trying very hard not to be angry with his son because not all the anger he was feeling, not even a small part of it, was actually his fault. As Rick left the room with the ax, Carl got to work bagging up all the edible stuff off the shelf. There were a few bags of chips and some jars of olives and okra, which was as good as they were going to get. His dad came back in with a bag with a couple water bottles and some first aide stuff. When he mentioned that it was his haul and asked what Carl had, he took his load over to his dad and stuffed it in the bag in his hands.
"I win," he said defiantly before he walked off.
They spent some more time walking along, silent as ever, following the road. Rick carried the bag with the supplies while Carl remained out front, doing his best to find what Ani called a quiet place in his mind. Someplace that wasn't replaying the fight at the prison, that wasn't showing him Judith's car seat, that wasn't worrying over where Ani was, or Sophia, or Michonne. He missed the woman he'd come to call sister, the girl his heart was aching over once again, his best friend in the whole world who seemed to always take time out of her day to read comics with him. He'd never get to finish learning muay thai with Ani or how to shoot a bow with Sophia and Merle. He'd never get a chance to start practicing with a sword like he'd asked from Michonne. All of his hopes had been dashed because his dad was too afraid to pull the trigger and be done with it. And the thing was, he was mad at himself too, because if he hadn't listened to Daryl, if he had taken the shot like his gut had told him, and Ani always said to trust your gut, maybe, just maybe, they'd all still be together at the prison. The thoughts consumed him as he walked on until his dad called out, making him stop.
"Hey," he said, coming up to stand beside Carl and indicating the house he was about to walk past. "That one's as good as any."
Going up the walkway, Rick had to bust into the house as something was blocking the door on the inside. It wasn't too difficult, but it still caused him to stumble for a minute as he and Carl raised their weapons. Rick closed the door as Carl began to walk the house, making sure it was clear of walkers. That worried Rick, causing him to chase after his son with as much speed and caution as he could muster given his injuries.
Carl was walking down a hall when Rick called out to him. "I got it," he told him in an exasperated whisper-yell. "The all doors down here are open."
"Stop!" Rick said as loudly as he could, over having his authority as father challenged by his son.
Carl rolled his eyes as he turned around, glaring at Rick for a moment before pounding his fist on the wall. "Hey asshole!" he yelled before pounding the wall again. "Hey shitface!" Another pound on the wall, "Hey-"
"Watch your mouth!" Rick yelled at him.
"Are you kidding me?" Carl asked him, pissed to all hell. "If there's one of them down there, they would've come out."
He walked upstairs, just wanting to be away from his father for a little while. For a moment, he stood in awe as he walked into what was obviously a teen's room, chuckling at the games he found on the entertainment center. Then he sombered up, spying his reflection in the surface of the television. He wasn't a kid anymore. He would never have this lifestyle. He could've at least had friends, family, laughter, food, shelter, fun, everything he was supposed to get and have at the prison. But no, now he was on the road, losing everyone thanks to his dad's dumb decisions. Pushing the games out of the way, he pulled out the long cables in the back of the television and went back downstairs. Night was falling, and they needed a way to secure the doors.
As he was finishing his knots, Carl heard his father grunting as he tried to push a heavy sofa against the door, "I tied the door shut."
"We don't need to take any chances," Rick said.
"You don't think it'll hold?!"
"Carl!"
"It's a strong knot. Clove hitch. Shane taught me and Ani showed me how to make it even tighter. Do you even remember Shane?"
"Yeah, I remember. I remember him every day," Rick told his son. "There something else you want to say to me?"
It's your fault for the prison. It's your fault for the way things turned out. Your fault Sophia and Michonne aren't here. Your fault Ani had to fight while still sick. Your fault for Judith, and the tally kept going on and on in his head as Rick stood there looking at him, waiting for an answer. Instead of giving him one, Carl just moved to help push the couch up against the door. He stood listening to his dad wheezing before the man took off his belt and sat down, offering Carl some food. When Rick said that Carl should eat, he snapped back that they needed to save it and went about making himself a place to sleep. Pissed at Carl's attitude, Rick followed him with the food only for Carl to tell him he didn't want it.
Throwing it on the floor where Carl had just put a blanket, Rick commanded, "Eat it. Now."
Carl didn't listen, instead shoving the bag off tot he side and laying down to get some sleep. In the morning, he woke up and looked over at his dad, grabbing his gun belt and the cereal his dad had thrown at him the night before. He poured himself a bowl before thinking about his dad and pouring one for him too. He left it next to the man who was still wheezing away, passed out on the couch pushed up to the door before returning to the table to eat himself. When he was finished, he meant to clean his bowl, but decided who cares anyway? So he went back up to the teen's room and pulled out one of the books from the shelves. If Ani had taught him one thing about learning, it was that books were the best weapon, the mind the best tool. He was halfway through one of the books when he decided it was time to check on his dad. When he found him still in the same position on the couch, he began to get worried.
"Hey, dad?" he called. "Dad?" Carl kicked his foot a couple times before sitting next to him. "Dad, wake up." When he still got no response, he became frustrated. "Wake up! Come on! Dad, wake up! Wake up!" he started shouting over and over as he pushed Rick to no avail.
Pounding on the door was his only indication that walkers were outside, called to the house by the sound of his shouting. Carl grabbed his hat and gun and made his way through the house and into a side door. Sticking his head out of the door and looking both ways, he cautiously made his way up front. There were two walkers banging on the door to the house trying to get in. Looking around to see if there were any more, he started yelling at them.
"Hey you! Fresh meat right here. Come and get it," he said, getting their attention and beginning to lead them away from the house. "Gonna take a walk. That's it."
Walking backwards he spoke words of encouragement as he lead them down the road. Everything was going really well until a third walker came out of nowhere, it's snarls being the only thing to alert him of the impending danger. He swore to himself more than anything as the three boxed him in. Fighting desperately against the one, he momentarily forgot what Ani had taught him. It took him getting knocked down for him to remember his training and kick the closest walker's legs out. He took aim and shot the first walker in the head only for the thing to fall down on top of him, making his job infinitely harder. The second walker fell on top of the one he'd killed, forcing him to take aim and once again kill it, causing that one to fall on top of him too. Carl began panicking as the third and final walker, the one he'd managed to fall, climbed over the other two on top of him. He struggled against the weight of the walkers and had a hard time keeping the third one away and getting his aim at the same time. He ended up shooting the thing three times before getting it in the head and beginning to struggle out from underneath the heap of dead. He couldn't help but puke when he stood up, that having been the closest he'd ever gotten to being bitten.
"I win," he said as he put his hat back on and walked back to the road. "Cool."
Carl went back to the house with a pep in his step. It'd been a long time since he'd taken walkers on by himself, and he was pretty proud that he still had it. Walking into the house through the side door, he took his coat off and hung it up while talking to his dad.
"I took down three walkers. They were at the door. They were going to get in, but I lured them away. I killed them. I saved you!" he yelled at his dad. "I saved you! I didn't forget while you had us playing farmer. I still know how to survive. Lucky for us." He lost his temper thinking about Judith. "I don't need you anymore. I don't need you to protect me anymore. I can take care of myself. You probably can't even protect me anyways. You couldn't protect Judith...Hershel or Glenn or Maggie. Michonne, Daryl, Ani, Merle, Sophia...or Mom. You just wanted to plant vegetables. You just wanted to hide. He knew where we were and you didn't care!" he yelled. "You just hid behind those fences, not taking any chances or letting Ani do all the things she wanted to build defenses! You just waited! They're all gone now! Because of you! They counted on you! You were supposed to be their leader! But now...you're nothing." He sat at the end of the couch and cried for a minute before dumping out the bag of supplies they'd gotten and standing up. "I'd be fine if you died," he said before walking out of the house once again.
Walking down the road, Carl found a rather large house that looked relatively safe. He pulled a solar light lining the driveway out, nodding as he looked at the stake end. Walking up to the door, he immediately thought it'd be cool to shoulder check it, only to fall on his back when the door held. Laying there for a minute thinking himself an idiot, he eventually got into the house by using the light and his shoulder to break the wood around the lock. Carl went straight to the kitchen, checking the cupboards which happened to have a horde of canned goods for him to take back. Looking around, his eyes went wide at what he saw on top of the fridge. He moved a chair to it and, standing on the chair, pulled a giant tin of chocolate pudding off the shelf.
When he was done in the kitchen, Carl walked upstairs to see what he could find, finding a dead bird in the first room. Closing the door, he checked the next room before closing the door and moving to the last room in the hall. Carefully opening the door a crack, the last thing Carl expected was for a walker to push on the door. Throwing all his weight against it, Carl tried to get the door closed again only to break one of the walker's arms in the process. He was overpowered soon enough which caused him to fall back and discharge his gun twice into the wall and ceiling. He tried to be careful with his third shot, which did hit the walker in the face, but didn't do any damage to the brain. As a result, the walker fell down and began crawling towards him, grabbing at his legs and pants.
Carl kicked the walker in the face several times before finally freeing himself from the thing, running into a bedroom after a failed attempt to close the door due to books. Try as he might, though, after opening the window and pulling it up, it would not open far enough for him to climb out. The walker managed to force it's way into the room, fumbling after Carl who began to panic. It knocked him down and grabbed a hold of his leg, forcing him to struggle with all his might as he used the doorframe to pull himself out of the room. Carl honestly feared for his life as the thing got closer and closer to taking a bite out of him, but at the last minute, he freed his foot from the walker's grasp at the cost of his shoe. While the walker was busy trying to take a bite out of, Carl launched himself from the room. Before he could manage to get the door closed, the walker noticed the shoe wasn't as tasty of a treat as it thought and began to come after him again. How many books do they need? he thought as he desperately began kicking the offending items into the room, managing to slam the door on the walker just before it got to him.
Slumping back against the door, Carl couldn't help but heave a few heavy sighs, thanking his lucky stars that he had gotten through that. Looking back at the door, he saw a piece of chalk and began writing on the door. Walker inside. Got my shoe, didn't get me. Smiling to himself, he walked back downstairs and found a can opener and a large spoon. He went back upstairs and out the window of another room, sitting on the edge of the balcony's roof and eating the giant can of pudding. Not wanting to waste any of it, he put away as much of it as he could, but swore he was never eating another thing of pudding again by the end of it.
When he got back to the house, he ended up passing out from a sugar crash at the end of the couch by his dad's feet. Raspy breathing woke him in the dead of night causing him to watch as his father began to twitch and moan and groan. Breaking down in sobs as he scrambled away from his dad, he grabbed his gun and held it ready to aim only to completely give up as his dad's hand grabbed a hold of his ankle.
"I can't," he said, putting his gun down. "I'm sorry. I was wrong. Just do it."
"Carl," his dad wheezed out. "Don't go outside. Stay safe," he said before rolling over and passing out again.
Sobbing, Carl could only move his dad's head to his knees and admit quietly, "I'm scared. I'm scared."
He cried for a while before getting into a more comfortable position, keeping his dad's head on his stomach as he drifted to sleep. In the morning, it was Rick's movement that woke Carl up. Sitting up and watching his dad try to get up, Carl quickly got to his feet and helped him before hugging him tightly. Recounting the events of the day before as they sat on the couch, Rick looked over the food before talking.
"You shouldn't have gone out there like that," he told Carl. "It's dangerous."
"I was careful."
Rick nodded his head, "It's good that you found more food."
"I found even more," Carl admitted. "But I ate it."
"What was it?"
"A hundred and twelve ounces of chocolate pudding," he answered with a laugh.
They shared a chuckle before Rick began talking, "I know things will never get back to the way they used to be."
"What?" Carl asked.
"I only clung to that for you. For Judith," Rick admitted. "Now she's gone. And you...you're a man, Carl. You're a man. I'm sorry."
"You don't need to be," Carl said, letting go of the anger he'd felt earlier.
They started eating before a knock was heard on the door, Rick struggling to his feet to look through the peephole. With a chuckle, he sat back down. When Carl asked him what it was, Rick couldn't help the grin that broke on his face.
"It's for you," he told his son.