Chapter 10: Call of Ktulu

~Clary~

I can't stay in Alexandria another moment.

I can't bring myself to stay at Carl's grave any longer, but I can't leave it, either. I fall to my knees, staring up at the sky. Why, why, why? I made it to morning, but it's not okay.

Michonne disappears, taking out walkers that had wandered in from where Daryl's convoy broke out of the community. Rick leaves next, taking Carl's gun with him. I fall forward, wailing because he's gone. I reach behind me for my gun, but a hand wraps around my wrist. I look up to see that Michonne's back, her eyes shining with tears. Her lip trembles as she begs, "Please, don't. Please, not you, too."

So I holster my gun, nodding. Michonne reaches forward, wiping my cheeks dry with her thumbs. She helps me to my feet, taking my hand as we walk down the street to find Rick. He kneels beside the body of a Savior, one that Michonne killed, judging from the hole in his back. Rick stands, taking the Savior's walkie with him.

Rick walks past Michonne and I without a word. "We need to go," I say. "We need to go."

"I'll get Rick," Michonne volunteers. "You coming?"

"I gotta get Dad's stuff," I say. "I can't come back here again."

"Be careful," Michonne requests, kissing the top of my head. I nod, and Michonne and I separate. She walks down the street to her house, while I go in the opposite direction to mine. I climb the stairs, stopping on the porch. I turn my head, looking to my right.

I can remember it as if it were just moments ago. Aaron standing on the porch, laughing at the antics of Daryl and I on the street. "Come in," Aaron had said. "Have some dinner. Come on, man. It's some pretty serious spaghetti."

Aaron had walked inside without waiting for my brother and I to follow. Daryl said it was my call, and I remember telling him, "C'mon. Aaron's one of the good guys."

I take a step to the side as the ghosts of the past bound up the steps, following them inside. As I walk in, standing in the living room, I can almost smell the spaghetti. I can hear myself saying, "This is where we belong."

Back then, I didn't even know how right I was.

And now it's all gone.

I close my eyes, tears rolling down my cheeks. I start up the stairs to the bedrooms, entering Aaron and Eric's first. I take a duffel bag from the closet, unzipping it and opening it. I pack what I can grab in the duffel bag, getting what I can for Aaron. I make sure to put in some of Eric's stuff, too; a couple of his shirts, pictures, and other things to remember him by. I catch sight of a box sitting on the dresser, a box I had never noticed before. I pick it up, putting the duffle bag down before opening the box.

"Oh, god," I whisper as I see the two rings inside. I close the lid on their wedding bands, securing it to make sure they don't fall out. I carefully tuck it inside the duffle bag before continuing to my room. I put the bag on my bed, as well as my backpack. I pack Eric's binder full of sheet music I grabbed from their room into my bag. I pack some of my stuff, all the while still thinking about the letter I have in my pocket. I zip the duffle bag shut before sitting on the floor, pulling out the letter Carl wrote. The one he didn't want me to read until after he was gone.

Clary,

Why did we have to end this way? Why are we always the ones that lose? Why is it always you?

I need you to stay alive, Clary. I need you to. I need you to be there for the after. I know you will be there, helping people, just like you always do.

I'm sorry I'm leaving you, baby. I thought I'd be around for a lot longer. Maybe in the beginning, I didn't know how long I'd last. In the beginning, I thought that you would be the last one standing, even after everyone else. I mean, I still think that. I still think you'll be the last one standing.

But I truly thought that I would make it a lot longer. I survived two gunshot wounds, after all, one of which was to the face. And here I am, going out in such a boring way. A goddamn walker bite. Of all the things that could've and should've killed me, it's a stupid walker that's the death of me.

Clary, baby, I'm so sorry we had that fight. I never should've tried to stop you from going outside the walls, but you do understand where I was coming from, right? I just didn't want to lose you. I shouldn't have tried to force you to stay inside. Aaron told me that you'd come back, that I'd get a chance to make it right. I'm sorry because I think I ended up making it worse.

I remember the very first time that I saw you. We were both so young, though you had grown up a lot faster than me. I remember thinking, That's her. That's the girl I want to marry one day.

I really did. Hell, even though I'm dying, I still do. I love you so much, Cheyenne. From the moment that I met you—no, the moment that I saw you, I was absolutely, unconditionally, unfathomably, and hopelessly in love with you. I love you more than anything, and I'm so sorry we can't spend the rest of our days together. I'm so sorry that I don't even have a day.

I wanted to ask you to marry me, Cheyenne Dixon. No, it's Raleigh, isn't it? You know what? It doesn't matter. I wanted you to be a Grimes. Maybe… maybe if I get a chance to before I die, maybe if I have enough courage to… maybe I'll ask you. Just to be able to ask you. We'll never actually be able to get married, of course, but I still want you to know that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. If only we would've made it past seventeen.

I don't know how many times I've said "I love you" both to your face and in this letter, but I'm going to say it one more time.

I love you, Cheyenne Clarissa Raleigh. Even if you now have the same initials as Creedence Clearwater Revival.

Just kidding. I love you, baby.

Carl Shawn Grimes

P.S. There are times I wish you could've had kids. Ours would've been little badasses.

I refold Carl's letter, tucking it inside my jacket pocket and zipping it shut. I close my eyes, resting my forehead on my hands. I don't want to leave Alexandria, not after this place became my home. At the same time, I can't stay here a moment longer because of what I lost within its walls. The walls that were supposed to be safe.

I push myself to my feet, fighting through every part of me that wants to just lay down and die. I grab my backpack, the one that I've had with me since the very beginning. I pause for a moment to make sure everything is still inside—the wallet Glenn got me as a joke when we were scavenging inside a mall after I quoted Attack on Titan and the pictures inside it; the copy of The Outsiders I took from the CDC; clothes that I've taken over the years from my brothers, among other people. I pull one shirt out—the one I took from Benjamin when I first went to the Kingdom. I leave it behind, not wanting to remember the time I wasted away from Carl.

I look down at the desk, two letters written in case their authors died in the fight against the Saviors. "I should've burned it," I say to an empty room. I pick up the letter I wrote to Benjamin when I mistook my feelings for something they weren't. "You were nothing to me but a body with a gun. I'm sorry I fooled you and I'm sorry I couldn't save you. Yeah, I cried when you died, Ben, 'cause you left behind a little brother and it was a horrible way to go; but I never cared that much. Only enough to mourn a fallen soldier."

I tear the letter in two, letting the pieces fall to the ground. "I slept with you because I thought you were the key to an alliance with Ezekiel. You weren't. He didn't get involved until after you died. Maybe… maybe I shoulda just killed you myself, for all that it did."

I walk out of my room, down the stairs, and out the door. As I leave, I stop in the threshold, just like I did when I decided to go after Gabriel instead of leaving. I should've left then, and then we'd all still be alive. I close my eyes, imagining that I'm in that moment once more.

This time, I make the the right decision. To an empty room, I say, "Gabriel's not my family. He never was. He can rot out there. We'll leave and we'll be the ones who live."

~Michonne~

I stop before I climb the stairs to the porch, staring down the street. Four houses down, I watch as Clary steels herself before going inside Aaron and Eric's house. It's her house, too, I remind myself. She's their daughter. His daughter now.

I turn away, climbing the stairs. I stop, dropping my bag when I catch sight of the blue paint in the corner. I kneel in front of the handprints of the Grimes children, one larger than the other. One that will remain that size for all of eternity and the other that will keep growing.

I slowly reach forward, placing my hand atop Carl's handprint. I close my eyes, breathing out a shaky sigh. I lift my eyes when I hear walkers growling from down the street. "They never stop," I whisper to myself.

Instead of dealing with them, I grab my bag and hurry inside the house. I find Rick in the kitchen, telling him, "We gotta go."

"Clary?" he questions.

"She's on her way," I tell him. He swings his bag over his shoulder, following me out the door. We load the bags into the back of a van, and as I go to close the door, I catch sight of the gazebo on fire. Rick rests his hand on my arm, saying, "Hey."

I look back at him, saying, "He used to sit on the roof."

"We have to go," Rick says.

I shake my head, instead grabbing the fire extinguisher from the van. I take off running for the gazebo, ignoring the walker stumbling towards it. Rick joins me a moment later, and we get to work putting out the blaze. He calls, "Michonne!"

I turn, hitting a walker in the head with the canister. I go back to the fire, the growling of walkers getting louder and louder as more and more come. "Michonne!" Rick shouts. "Michonne! It's too far gone."

I draw my katana, slicing through walkers in my way as Rick and I run for the van. Clary already has it started and the back doors closed. She leans out the window, shouting, "We gotta go! Now!"

She leans back as Rick and I jump in, Rick behind the wheel. Clary sits in the back, staring out the windows as we leave Alexandria behind. Alexandria, still burning with walkers inside the walls.

~Clary~

We drive in silence for a long time. I don't know how much time has passed. I sit in the back, holding the spent bullet casing in my hands. Rick suddenly asks, "What do you think he meant?"

I tuck the casing in my pocket, looking up as I question, "What?"

"Did he want us to stop fighting the Saviors?" Rick continues. "Just… surrender to Negan?"

"We could pull over," Michonne suggests, taking the letters out. "We could read what he wrote."

"No," Rick objects. "Not yet. Not me."

"Rick," Michonne says after a moment. "Carl, he… he wrote a letter to Negan."

Rick doesn't respond for a minute, and when he does, he says, "I need to talk to Jadis."

"What?" Michonne questions.

"They have weapons, people. We can't just give that up."

"Why now?" I ask.

"They went with me to the Sanctuary," Rick explains. "The Saviors saw us there. They're gonna be a target, too."

"Why the hell do we owe them anything?" I question. "They've turned on us so many times."

"We still need them," Rick replies. "They're ours, not theirs."

Michonne leads the way through the shipping container to the entrance to the Heaps. I know that something's wrong within seconds.

"Michonne, stop," I order. "Something happened."

"What?" Michonne questions, pausing to look back at me.

"The door," I say, gesturing up ahead. It's slightly ajar. "They never leave it open, even a little bit."

"Be on your toes," Rick says.

He takes the lead, gun raised as he pushes open the door. We enter, spinning when a tripwire causes an avalanche of junk to come tumbling down. We scatter, dodging the debris, as it blocks the entrance. Rick and I look down as we step in blue, the spilled paint still wet.

"Shit," I say, looking back to the covered doors. "We're not gettin' out that way." I tilt my head, listening for the location of the snarling. "We got walkers incoming. We gotta move."

"Dig!" Michonne orders. We start digging, tossing junk aside as fast as we can. The snarling gets louder, the walkers nearing. I hear Rick say, "Dammit!"

I turn to look over my shoulder. "My god," I say. "The Scavengers. They're all dead."

"Go, go!" Rick barks. We fight our way through the walkers, scrambling up on the heaps to get to higher ground. We stop at the top, turning to look down at the herd below.

"Rick," a voice says, a voice that I recognize as belonging to Jadis.

We turn. She sits atop the same heap as us, barefoot and in a white dressing gown. Michonne questions, "What happened here?"

"The Saviors," she answers.

"Well, how do we get out?"

"You get out how you got it."

"Great," I remark. "Just fucking great."

"These weren't heaps before. It was just trash, laid out as far as the eye could see. I used to come here to find things to paint on. Metal sheets, fabrics. And then after, everything changed. I realized this whole place was a canvas. That we were the paint. We could create something new. We could become something new. We did. This was our world. Apart from everyone else in every way."

"You did this," Rick says. "This is because of you."

Rick picks up a car door, bending back the metal on it so it protrudes out. "What are you doing?" Michonne questions.

"We're gonna run for it," Rick answers. Rick looks around, finding an old oven door for Michonne.

"Let me come with you," Jadis requests, picking up a chair. "Just until they're gone."

Rick takes another old chair, passing it to me as he says, "No. I'm done with her games. She can't help us anyway. C'mon."

I start to follow Rick and Michonne, pausing as I look back at Jadis. She may have betrayed us, but there's still some fucked up part of me that's trying to tell me to save her. Maybe that's just my humanity. "Good luck, Haircut," I tell her. "You'll need it."

I follow Rick and Michonne down the heap, looking at the hunk of metal serving as a shield. I sigh, saying, "You know, I had a shield once."

"You made me shoot at you while you held it to test if it was bulletproof," Rick recalls.

"I miss that heavy bitch sometimes. Like now. Negan probably melted it down and used it on those walkers we saw, with the metal over their heads."

"Let's go," Rick says, jumping down into the walkers. We push through them, Rick using the metal protruding from the door to stab walkers. We make it to the exit, tossing aside the shields and climbing up the debris. Rick tosses enough debris aside for us to fit through the door. He takes my arm, pulling me up and pushing me through. Michonne follows a moment later.

From the other side, I can hear Jadis call, "Please! Just let me get out!"

"Rick!" I call, unable to see anything except him in the doorway.

After a gunshot, Rick joins us on the other side. He looks down at me, saying, "You were right. They don't even deserve our mercy."

~Enid~

"We came here to ask for your help," Aaron tries as the Oceanside women lead us into their camp.

"Well, you shouldn't have," Beatrice says, opening the door to Cyndie's house. They shove us inside, chaining us to the radiator. "Hey, please," Aaron pleads. "Please. Please, just… Let's talk about this!"

Beatrice turns to Cyndie, who hasn't stopped glaring at me with hatred in her eyes. "Natania was your family," Beatrice says. "It's up to you, Cyndie. All of it."

"We should just kill them," Rachel interjects. Cyndie turns and walks out, the rest of the women following after a moment, closing the door after them.

"Enid," Aaron says softly, and I can't look at him. "We're gonna get out of this."

"This is…" I blink back tears, my voice breaking as I shake my head. "It's not about that. She made it so I had to do it. It was you or her. She made me kill her." I clear my throat. "I'd do it again. I'd have to. Even knowing it would feel this way."

It isn't long before the doors opens again, and then uncuff us from the radiator. Aaron thanks them, but he lets out a short sigh as they handcuff his hands behind his back. "Take them to the beach," Beatrice orders.

"You're going to kill us?" Aaron questions. I can see the panic in his eyes, and I can't quite figure out the main source of it. Is it because they're going to kill us, or is it because he's truly leaving Clary as the Orphan?

"Take them," Beatrice repeats.

"This is your decision," Aaron says, looking to Cydnie. "You own it."

"Cyndie," I say. "You better have a good reason for killing us other than thinking it'll make you feel better. Because it won't."

"Let's just get it over with," Beatrice says.

"Why would you kill us? To punish us? I mean, don't you get it? Killing is the punishment. You execute us, then maybe some of ours will come looking for us. And maybe you'll take them out, but eventually, enough of them will come back here and they will wipe you out. You kill Aaron, and Clary will rain down hellfire on you and your people. Hell, it doesn't even matter what you do to me, but if Aaron goes back with than just that cut? Oh, you've got one hell of a storm coming. Your grandmother got herself killed, so don't make the same mistake. Just let us go and we'll keep fighting them and you can keep hiding."

Cyndie presses her lips together, swallowing, as she weighs her options. "No," she says, shaking her head. For a moment, I think I've lost. "They live."

They uncuff us, Cyndie leading the way out. Aaron questions, "If we win, do you even want to know?"

"Yes," Cyndie answers sharply.

"Then help us win."

"We're helping you win by not killing you both. That's our contribution to the cause. You've taken everything else we could give."

They lead us into the woods, stopping about halfway back to our vehicles. Aaron and I stand on one side, the Oceanside on the other. "Don't come here again," Cyndie orders.

"Stop trying to kill strangers," I return. Cyndie steps forward, standing toe to toe, right in my face. I don't back down or give her a chance to talk. "We know who we have to kill. We know the difference between friends and enemies. You should, too."

Cyndie glances down before nodding, ordering, "Don't come back."

Aaron and I stand in silence, watching the women of Oceanside leave. He inquires, "You know how to get to the car?"

"Yeah," I say, turning to look at him.

"Good," Aaron says with a nod.

It hits me why he's asking me. "No! Aaron, they're not gonna help us."

"I want to go home. I do. I want to see my daughter more than anything. But I have to get them on our side and end this war so she can be safe. I can't leave. Not until they join the fight."

"They're not joining."

"Beatrice and Kathy were open to fighting before. I think I can convince them. I just need time."

"Okay, then we both stay," I suggest.

"You need to get back. Tell Maggie what's happening, what I'm doing. Tell them to keep fighting. Tell Clary, because she'll find out sooner or later. But don't you dare let her come here after me. They'll kill her if she does. Whatever you do, don't let her come. You got that?" I nod. "There's one other thing I need you to tell Clary."

"What is it?" I question.

"'No matter what, my heart will keep beating.' Tell her that. Please." I nod. "Don't let them come, Enid. You tell them not to come."

"They'll kill you if you go back there," I whisper.

"I won't go back there," Aaron tells me. "It'll be okay. No matter what happens, I'll be okay."

"Promise me I'll see you again," I request. "Promise."

Aaron nods. "Promise me you'll be okay.

I nod, stepping forward and wrapping my arms around Aaron's waist. I rest my head against his chest, and he holds me, cradling my head with one hand. I know he's imagining Clary as he holds me, but I pay it no mind. I'm too busy imagining it's my own father, one last time.

~Clary~

"I shot above her head," Rick says. "I just wanted her gone."

You shot above Siddiq's head, too.

"Look, I saw her. She made it. She ran—"

"So you finally did more than hope," I interrupt, meeting Rick's stone-cold, icy blue eyes in the rearview mirror. "Still too late, Rick. She's still back there, with them."

"She ran into an empty alley just before I left," Rick continues. "I didn't want her dead. I just wanted her gone."

"Maybe I go back," I mutter. "Maybe I save her, too."

Maybe I do the same thing Carl did.

I don't have to say that part for Rick to know what I mean.

"Feels like what Carl was talking about," Michonne says. "What we should do when we have a choice."

Rick stops the van, pulling off the side of the road. He says, "I… I need a second."

"It's fine," Michonne assures him.

Rick puts the van in park, shutting off the engine. He takes the letters and the walkie before getting out, disappearing into the woods just off the road. Rick leaves Michonne and I in the van together.

Michonne starts, "Clary—"

"I didn't mean what I said," I suddenly say. "I… I gotta go after him. I'll be back."

"Be careful," Michonne requests as I exit the van. I track Rick into a clearing, finding him holding the Saviors' walkie. His back is turned to me as he orders, "Get me Negan."

A Savior demands, "Who the hell is asking?"

"It's Rick Grimes."

The radio goes silent, the entire damn clearing silent. I snap my head to the right at the rustling of branches, seemingly the only one to have heard it.

Three days without sleep, and you begin to hallucinate.

But he's standing there, clear as day. Healthy and full of life, instead of dying and pale. He's even got both eyes.

"Carl?" I whisper.

"Listen to Negan, Clary," Carl replies, stepping towards me. "You should know—he's right. He'll tell you what you need to know. I know he's right, and you do, too." Carl stops directly in front of me, resting a hand on my cheek. "You just have to listen."

"Ricky," Negan says over the walkie. "Look at you, callin' me up. You wanna tell me where you are so we can do this face-to-face?"

"Carl's dead," Rick tells him. "He wrote letters. He wrote one to you. He asked you to stop. He asked me to stop. He asked us for peace. But it's too late for that. Even if we wanted a deal now, it doesn't matter. 'Cause I'm gonna kill you."

Negan normally has an immediate response for Rick when those words leave his mouth. Instead, there's a long pause. I can only imagine what's going through his mind. Finally, Negan questions, "How did it happen?"

"What?"

"How did he die?" Negan rephrases. "Was it us? Was it the grenades? The fire?"

"It wasn't you," Rick growls. "Carl went out to help someone. And he got bit."

"Goddammit." There's a catch in Negan's voice, something that I never once thought I'd hear. "Shit. I, um… I am sorry. You know, I wanted him to be a part of things. I had plans. He, that kid… that kid was the future."

"The only future is one where you're dead."

"What the hell are you doing, Rick? Why are you fighting? Why are you making this so hard? Carl is dead because of you. Because you couldn't leave shit well enough alone. I mean, hell, maybe he woulda died some other way. Any one of us can get our ticket punched at second, but in this case? In this case, he is dead because of you. Because you weren't there to stop him from doing something stupid. You set this course, Rick. Who's next?"

"You are."

"No. But someone is. You see, I stop people from dying. I am the answer. Now, it may have taken a hard lesson for you to hear it; but you should hear it now. It's time. Do not let any more of your shit decisions cost you to lose anyone else you love. That garbage, that sticks with you. Forever. Just like Carl will. Hell, I'm feeling it. And I'm gonna be feeling it for a while. You could have just let me save all of you."

Why didn't we? It wasn't perfect under Negan, but at least we weren't losing any more people we loved.

"I mean, that's why I killed your friends in the first place."

Did I even want to fight? I had everything to lose, and then I did lose it.

"So you can sit there, and you can say you're gonna kill me, but you won't. You failed."

You failed everyone, Rick Grimes.

"You failed as a leader, and most of all, Rick, you failed as a father. Just give up. Give up, because you have already lost."

I close my eyes, crouching and putting my head in my hands as I process Negan's words. Then, it hits me.

Everything that Negan's saying is true. He's not lying, not twisting his words or spinning the truth. He's laying it out, plain to see, all cards on the table.

It makes me wonder. Which one of these two has lied to me before, and which one has only spoken the truth? Negan has never lied to me, not once. Rick, on the other hand, has turned his back on me more than once.

Maybe Negan's right. Maybe Rick really is the reason Carl's dead. Maybe Rick's the reason so many of our friends are dead. Maybe he's the reason I've lost my family; Merle, Glenn, Eric. Merle, who died doing Rick's dirty work. Glenn, who died at the hands of Negan because Rick told me to make the deal, to do what it takes. Eric, who died because Rick couldn't leave shit well enough alone.

It's not a 'maybe,' I think. Negan's right. He has been all along. Carl, who's spent the most time with Negan out of any of us, knows that he's right. I know this because Carl knows this. The evil son of a bitch, the leader of people that have tried to kill us and succeeded far too many times, is actually the only one that I can trust to tell the truth, even if he is Cthulhu. Even if he is the Devil. Tell me I'm nuts, but I find myself being drawn to Negan rather than Rick. He speaks the truth, and I can't resist his call.