Chapter 14.

The Hand.

Carl.

Carl crept around the back of the RV, his heart pounding. Every second counted, every footstep, every ragged breath. If he was heard, it was over. He was dead. He glanced behind him and scanned the trees as his eyes shifted back to the front, his world in hyper-focus. Where was she?

He rounded a corner and Sophia burst out at him, her hands out like a groping walker. Carl jumped backward and stumbled, landing on his butt and laughing. Sophia giggled.

"How are you so quiet?" Carl demanded, a little miffed he hadn't heard her a third time. He ignored the hand she offered to help him up and jumped to his feet.

She shrugged, "Maybe you're deaf."

"I get to be the walker this time," he grumbled.

Sophia looked a little uncomfortable with her new role, but she ran off anyway. Carl sat down and shut his eyes, counting up to thirty. His mind wandered, though, and he kept losing track of where he was. He was mad that he was so bad at avoiding Sophia. He had actually been out there, alone with the walkers.. He should be the best at it. But then again, Daryl had been there to save him. Carl wondered if he would ever be able to make it on his own.

He hopped up when he thought it had been long enough.

He went off through the camp, lurching around. Sometimes the adults found their game a little dark, but it was one of the only respites from the boredom of camp, so his mom let him play. He searched for her for more than five minutes before he heard her giggle behind the RV – the same place he had tried to outsmart her. He was determined she would lose this time.

Carl got on his belly and crawled under the RV, watching her feet shift around the front tire. She was looking for him. He was as quiet as possible, carefully shifting his body across the grass, pausing when she seemed to be listening. He came out behind her, lurching to his feet and grabbed her by both shoulders, letting out a triumphant, "Gotcha!"

She squealed too loudly and jumped away from him, grabbing her left arm.

Dale looked over the top of the RV, "Hey, you okay, sweetheart?"

Sophia and Carl both looked up, surprised, having forgotten he roosted there most days. Sophia still seemed a little freaked out, so Carl answered, "We were just playing."

"Maybe take it easy," Dale suggested, and his head disappeared.

Carl looked more closely at Sophia, who was still holding her arm. "I didn't grab you that hard," he said, defensive. What if she told his mom he was playing too rough?

She had wide eyes, blue like the sky, "It's just hurt already, is all." She peeled up her sleeve, and four or five inches beneath the fabric she had a hand-shaped blackened bruise on her shoulder. "I forgot it was there."

"How did you get that?" Carl asked, thrown by how ugly it was. He got a bruise like that once when he fell off his bike onto a tree limb.

Sophia pulled her sleeve back down and crossed her arms. "I ought to get back to my mom. She might need my help with the laundry."

"But-"

"We can play again later," she interrupted, and left him there.

Carl was left alone behind the RV. His mind revved, grasping for an explanation. He remembered assemblies at school where teachers would talk about how sometimes people had mean parents, but he was more focused on the candy they gave out at the end. His father had said bits and pieces about people he dealt with in his job, and he had spoken of the Peltier family sometimes in private to Lori, but Carl was barely listening.

He knew Carol would never do anything bad to Sophia – she was so nice – but her dad made him uncomfortable, and so did the people he hung out with. He reminded Carl of a snake, lurking in the grasses, waiting to bite.

Carl went to find his mom. His default place in camp was beside her. She was hanging laundry on the line by their tent. It seemed like that was all she ever did – that and make him do math.

"Hey, baby, why the long face?" Lori said as he approached. She laid her wet clothes over a basket and turned to him, holding her hands out and catching his face in her palms. Her hands were warm and wet, but the touch was welcome. Carl leaned into it.

He looked up at her, "Can I talk to you about something? Somewhere private?"

Lori's eyebrows drew down and her face softened, "Sure you can. How about you help me put the rest of this on the line and we can talk in the tent?"

Carl helped her put the laundry up, his eyes roving the camp for signs of Sophia. He saw Carol straightening things and going in and out of the Morales family tent – Louis was sick – but no sign of Sophia with her. He realized that, oddly, after only a few minutes apart, he missed her.

He followed his mother into their tent and flopped down on his sleeping bag, trying to decide how to say what he wanted. His mom waited patiently, sitting on a cot, her hands folded.

Finally, Carl asked, "Why is Ed so mean to Sophia?"

Lori's face dropped immediately, "Why do you think he's mean to Sophia?"

"She has a bruise on her arm, like a hand," Carl said, putting one of his hands on his opposite shoulder to demonstrate, "Like this. I saw it when we were playing. And I just know her dad did it. I heard you and Dad talking about him, how he's a bad man."

She rested her face in one hand, taking a deep breath, "Carl… it's complicated."

"But Dad and Shane are police! Why can't they make him stop?"

"I… I wish I had a better answer for you. If this was before, if this was before all of this, it would be simpler. But everything is really complicated right now."

Carl was not happy with that answer, but Lori looked distressed. He had to push himself to keep his frustration from showing. "I guess…"

"When your dad gets back, we can talk about it some more, okay? You tell him what you saw, and he can do more than I can." She wrung her hands together, her big brown eyes a little wet all of the sudden, "Trust me, I feel the same way. That poor girl."

Carl felt his heart sinking, but he said nothing else. He slipped onto the cot with Lori and hugged her, squeezing himself into her side. He had known kids at school with tough parents – dads who never hugged, moms who always wanted them to do better – but he had never had that himself. His parents were his world. His mom was nice and good and funny, and his dad was cool and clever and strong. He wondered what it was like for Sophia, and then wished that he had never seen that bruise.

He spent a good portion of the day alone after that. He tried to talk to Daryl, only to get shut down immediately as Daryl left the camp, and then he looked around for Sophia. She refused to speak to him. He sat near her for over an hour, drawing pictures in the dirt, before he got up to wander again. He was frustrated, because his mom didn't have the answers he wanted, and no one seemed as worried about it as he was. He was mad, because he wanted to hit Ed in his stupid face for hurting his friend. And he was mad that Sophia would not talk to him.

And that anger never lessened, never faded, but he started to gain control over it.

Near dusk, the men returned from their supply run. Morales and Rick entered the clearing first, going straight to Morales' tent with a bag, and Shane came after them.

Carl went straight to Shane.

"Hey, did you find medicine?"

"What?" Shane said sharply, angrily, and then his tone settled when he saw Carl standing there. "Oh, yeah, we did. Got some good stuff. Louis is gonna be fine."

Carl debated for half a second, and then said, "Can I talk to you about something really important?"

Shane seemed restless, ready to crawl out of his skin, but his eyes were soft when they were on Carl. He ruffled his hair and nodded, leading him back a ways into the edge of the forest. He crouched down, pulling off a ballcap and digging his fingers through his dark, curly hair.

"What's up, little man? Everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just…" Carl could see the intensity burning in Shane, and suddenly he realized this was the perfect time to talk to him. "Why is Ed so mean to Sophia?"

A little flame ignited in Shane, "You seen him do something to her?" he asked.

Carl was a little jarred by his voice, which had become venomous. But he went on anyway, "I saw a bruise on her arm, like a hand." He put his hand on Shane's shoulder to demonstrate and found the muscles beneath his shirt wiry and tensed. "Like this."

Shane scowled, "Did she say her daddy did it?"

"No. She won't talk to me."

Shane thought a while, examining the frayed edges of his hat. He finally said, "If you really want me to, I can have a word with Ed."

Carl jumped on that, "I do. I want you to."

"Okay. I will." Shane stood up, directing him back to camp. "Go on, now. I'll take care of it."

Carl smiled, hugged Shane, and ran back to camp, looking around excitedly for Sophia. He found her sitting behind the RV, sullenly moving the arms and legs of her doll into a sort of dance.

His excitement drained away all of the sudden.

"Hey," he said, not expecting a response.

Sophia looked up and murmured, "Hey."

"Can I play… whatever that is?"

Sophia laughed and laid her doll down beside her. "I brought some cards out, in case you came back." She pulled a deck of cards from her pocket and laid it on the ground between them. "Sorry I wasn't talking to you."

"It's okay."

Carl sat across from her and started dealing the cards, deciding not to tell her about his talk with Shane. It would be a surprise to her when her dad stopped being mean. He couldn't wait.