Chapter 20: On the Road (Again)
Carl had thought that luring walkers away using drones - military grade drones! - would be pretty exciting. Okay, watching the little guys take off had been kind of cool; Carl had ooh'd and aah'd along with everybody else. But after that, there was really nothing for them to do. They couldn't even see the video feeds - and that was supposed to be the best part!
No, they were just told to wait by the gates, packed up and ready to go, while the soldiers worked their magic back at the base. As it turned out, coordinating herds took time. Mostly because walkers - who would've guessed? - were slow.
They weren't exactly left to stew, though. People came by to keep them company while they waited. Carl had received a weirdly heartfelt thanks from general Ulysses, hugs from Daliah and Annabelle, more questions from the farming brigade, and a semi-terrifying lecture about trauma aftercare from Dr. Ganguly. At the end of it all, Carl somehow found himself feeling both anxious and sorry to leave.
When the All Clear came (at last) Carl climbed into the front of the van next to Castiel. For once, no one fought him over it. They were leaving McLaren with a full tank and several jerrycans strapped to their roof. Carl's muscles were still sore from yesterday's farming lesson - he'd definitely earned Shotgun.
It was still pretty cramped in the back, never mind the two girls they were leaving behind (who hadn't taken up that much space to begin with). Carl could hear Judith bouncing about with her new favorite word on repeat ("George"), Oliver squeaking, "Ow, don't sit on me!", the twins shoving at each other, and the general shuffling and sniping that happened whenever anyone had inevitably invaded someone else's space.
"Never let me drink again," Mikey moaned pitifully.
"Don't you dare throw up in here, Michael," Claire snapped at him.
"Please, will you all settle down?" Castiel squinted at them in the rearview mirror, voice close to pleading. "It's been five minutes."
There was a brief respite of silence.
"I gotta pee," Claire said sheepishly.
Thankfully, they got through the day without major incidents. It wasn't exactly a perfect ride - far from it. The road conditions kind of sucked, limiting their speed. And, on a few occasions, they needed to clear up a path using their old routine. On the other hand, the intel was solid and the walker presence was noticeably thinner.
They drove west rather than hugging the riverside - as taking the shortest route to Alexandria meant having to make suicide runs by cities and major highways - past the wrecked ruins of Philadelphia and deeper into the mainland.
"Do you think anyone made it out?" Carl asked Enid during a pit stop close to the city. The view was pretty depressing. There was nothing but rubble beyond the green road sign; not a single skyscraper had survived.
"Maybe," Enid answered, but he could tell she didn't really believe that.
Later, when they had stopped to refuel for the third time (the van really gobbled up the homemade stuff), Carl suddenly realized that they were actually making pretty good progress. If they kept their pace they might even reach Alexandria as early as the next day. The thought shook him so much that he didn't even protest when the twins staged a hostile takeover of the front seats.
Daylight burned while they drove through an area that was, all of a sudden, much more rural than before. The younger kids were starting to get cranky about being cooped up in the van for so many hours, so Carl and the others banded together to try and entertain them. An irritated toddler in a closed space was never fun, and Oliver, who was freakishly well behaved 99% of the time, could make that 1% count.
Carl suddenly got into his head to try and teach Judith how to whistle - she looked at him like he'd gone nuts - which somehow turned into teaching Castiel.
"Look, look, Cas, it's easy," Carl insisted but then struggled to actually perform through his (very manly!) giggles.
Castiel shifted around, too big to fit comfortably in the back of the van. He wore a look of intense concentration on his face as he tried, once again, to produce a passable whistle but only managed a wet, weird little exhale. For someone who supposedly had feathers, he really sucked at making bird noises.
"That was terrible," Enid hooted, crumbling sideways. Castiel glared at her, which only made her laugh harder.
Judith giggled hysterically, finding their behavior absolutely hilarious.
"It's physiologically impossible for some," Castiel said when he finally gave up, looking unimpressed with all of them. "I know these things," he insisted.
"Dad could so whistle, Cas," Claire pointed out, wiping at her tear-streaked face.
"Yo, weirdos," Jake called out, stopping Carl from asking her what she'd meant. "We should probably start heading down south, right?"
Castiel sounded a little grumpy when he replied, "Not today. We need to find someplace for tonight; it will get dark soon."
They ended up stopping at a side road motel that looked secure enough for one night. According to the peeling sign at its front, the motel was called, inexplicably, 'Hunters Run'.
("Run where?" Castiel had puzzled).
'Hunters Run' was small, rundown, and was probably a crapsack long before the dead got to walking. Nevertheless, at some point in time, someone had put a halfway decent barricade around it, using what looked like most of the furniture. Jake managed to back the van up into a small gap in the barrier, effectively sealing it with them inside. There was much groaning and grumbling as they all climbed out of the van, limbs in desperate need of stretching after sitting so long in such a cramped space.
"We couldn't find a Hilton?" Claire asked, standing with her hands on her hips.
"I like it," Castiel informed her. He studied the single-floor structure intently. "Carl, make a noise."
Carl grinned. He handed a squirming Judith over to Scott before sticking two fingers in his mouth and letting out a shrill whistle. Carl couldn't hear any stirring walkers from their position at the edge of the parking lot, but of course, Castiel was a league of his own. Almost immediately, he began to call out the weak spots:
"Something's moving in the back, over there. Raccoons, I think, but keep your guard up just in case. And there are several walkers, as you say, in rooms eight, eleven, and-" Castiel paused, tilting his head like a bird- "and nineteen. Let's make it quick."
"I'll go with you," Carl volunteered.
"Me too," Claire announced, bringing out her sharp silver blade with a showy flick of the wrist. Castiel had taught her his neat little sleeve trick, which she'd been practicing. "What's with the look, Cas? You still want me on the bench? 'Cause even the doc said I'm A-OK. Here, watch this." She bounced from foot to foot easily, as if she hadn't been limping just a few days ago. Even the bruising on her face had faded considerably. "Ta-dah."
"You heal like Wolverine." Enid nodded appreciatively.
"My God, you're a nerd," Claire said with a grin, earning an eye roll from Enid. "So, are we cleaning out this dump or what? Let's get to it already, I'm starving."
They cut down the walkers quickly (but didn't bother the raccoons) even though Castiel probably could've taken them out with much less fuss. Claire was stronger than she looked, and pretty efficient with the knife, too. Carl knew that of course, having seen her practice, but it was different watching her handle actual flesh and blood walkers.
It was getting to be pretty chilly at night. Unfortunately, the motel rooms were unlivable. Whoever had stayed there before had left behind a broken down mess. No one wanted to play housekeeper for the sake of one night, so they dragged the few surviving mattresses out to the parking lot, and lit up a small fire in order to keep themselves warm.
Even though he'd had far worse in the past, Carl was finding it difficult to fall asleep. His mind kept circling back to Alexandria, thinking that maybe, if their luck kept, tomorrow he'd spend the night in his own bed. He hoped that his dad was hanging on to his sanity and that Michonne wasn't blaming herself too much for their disappearance. He would tell them the truth, he decided. They might not believe him (and Claire might not like it) but he owned them that at least.
"Can't sleep?" Carl heard Claire ask in a sleep-addled voice. She wasn't speaking to him, though.
Castiel gave a small huff of laughter. "You're not funny," he said anyway.
"I'm hilarious."
Carl rolled over to his side. He saw Claire sitting up in her bedding, yawning. Out of all of them, Claire knew Castiel the best. They had a history, that much was obvious, although so far Carl hadn't managed to get much detail out of either of them. It was funny: back in Heaven (or whatever), they hadn't really been able to see the faces of any of the fake parents, but he kind of thought that Claire's dad looked like Castiel.
"Your brooding is keeping me up," Claire said, wrapping her blanket around her body like a cocoon.
"Sorry."
"What's the matter?" She asked. "You've got a face."
"A face?"
"You look worried."
"Oh."
Castiel looked up to the stars, sighing. He didn't say more for the longest time. Claire didn't prod, though she kept looking at him expectantly. Carl's eye was shutting on its own when Castiel's voice jerked him back to awareness.
"I haven't heard from Dean in several days. It's… unlike him."
"He prays a lot?"
"Every night," Castiel told her, sounding puzzled. "Normally."
Prays? Carl thought, frowning a little.
It was hard not to like Cas, he was funny and badass and kind of weirdly adorable. But every now and then, Carl would get a reminder that Castiel was a legitimate, kid-you-not, actual biblical-fire-and-brimstone Angel with a capital A. It was hard not to get tongue-tied whenever he'd stop to think about it.
"Don't worry so much," Claire said as she laid back down, head propped on her hand. "It's been awhile since I met 'em, but those brothers seemed pretty tough to me, y'know? Like, they can handle it." Then she added, as if the thought just came to her, "Maybe he's just busy? It's the end of the world and stuff. Things can get a little intense."
"I noticed," Castiel said, his voice soft.
Some time passed alongside a lull in the conversation. Carl managed to fall into a light sleep, waking up every now and then from Jake's snoring, or the crickets' chirping, or from rustling whenever Castiel got up to feed wood scraps to their little fire or take care of the occasional walker that wandered a little too close to their camp.
"Hey, Cas." He heard Claire murmur at one point. Her voice was soft, half-asleep. "You told Dad you wouldn't age, so how come you look older? You turn on your aging settings or something?"
When Castiel didn't reply, she continued insistently, suddenly seeming much more awake, "Wait, you did, didn't you? Oh my God, you totally did. You turned on aging because of Dean!" She started to laugh a little, the sound coming away muffled.
"Claire," Castiel said in an exasperated voice.
"It's kinda sweet."
"Go to sleep, Claire."
AN: Sorry for the wait, guys! Less time to write lately, sorry to say. Next chapter will be up this week, fingers crossed. We're approaching the climax of the story, so keep your seatbelts buckled!