The sun was already signaling midday by the time they trudged away from the campsite, their meager belongings strapped to their backs.
It was going to be a long walk to Alexandria. Their fault, for taking such a long and convoluted route to start with. They had been trying to avoid the cities and major highways, and the hundreds, if not thousands , of dead in their path.
Carl hoped to find a minivan, but he would have settled for a clown car at the rate they were going. Every scrap of metal they passed on the side of the road had already been siphoned or broken down for parts.
"I'm getting Deja-Vu," Carl muttered to himself, recalling his family's last miserable expedition to Alexandria. At least this time they had a better clue of what they were getting into.
The group was moving at a slow but steady pace along a narrow road. The guys were taking the lead, with Castiel, Carl, and the girls following close behind. Carl had been carrying Judith on his shoulders, and it wasn't long before he was starting to lag behind everyone. Judith wasn't a large girl by any stretch of the imagination, but the added weight soon sent a twinge of pain to his lower back with every step.
Castiel, noticing Carl's distress, reached over and plucked Judith from Carl's shoulders. Judith adored Cas, she had no problem settling at his hip instead.
It was an immediate relief, but Carl couldn't help sound a protest. "Are you sure?" he asked, wiping sweaty hair off his forehead. "She's not too heavy, is she?"
Castiel gave him a look that was downright offended. "I've regularly swatted asteroids off the path of this planet. This is fine."
Judith blew him a raspberry.
"That wasn't very nice," Castiel told her seriously.
"I still don't see the difference," Enid said, picking back on the conversation she'd been having with Castiel before the interruption.
"A prayer is a sign of faith, first and foremost," Castiel told Enid while playfully dipping Judith down to make her giggle. He continued, "whether that carries a religious connotation is completely beside the point."
Enid nodded her head. "Right, except that still basically boils down to me thinking thoughts at you."
"The difference is intent ."
"That's still telepathy ."
Claire, walking beside her, huffed in disagreement. "They're two different things."
"I mean, you could read my mind if you wanted to, right?" Enid asked, pointing at Castiel.
"I wouldn't do that."
"Yeah, but you could . And let's say I didn't pray , I just thought really hard at you?" Enid tilted her head toward Castiel and squeezed her eyes shut, and said, "Can you tell what number I'm thinking of?"
The corner of Castiel's mouth twitched. "Seventy-two. And that still constitutes a prayer. It is a very singular frequency."
Enid threw up her hands in protest. "That's textbook telepathy!"
"You always have to be right about everything," Claire grumbled, somewhat fondly.
"It's more like a one way radio," Carl suggested, tentatively butting into a conversation that clearly had been going on for a while. "I mean, it works long distance, no?"
"Mmm, speaking of long distances," Claire interjected, eyeing Castiel curiously, "how's your long-distance relationship going, Cas? Have you heard from Dean at all?"
"Yes." Castiel didn't seem particularly happy about it.
"And? What's he saying?" Claire prodded.
Castiel sighed. He shook his head in frustration. "Dean is praying, but he isn't speaking to me at all."
"How does that work?"
"A prayer doesn't have to be verbal. It can be a feeling, a sense of longing," Castiel explained, "or anger. Dean is praying, but he's not saying anything at all." He pursed his lips in annoyance. "I think we're fighting."
Enid made a sympathetic noise. "Oh. He's giving you the silent treatment."
"I mean, can you blame him?" Claire asked, shrugging a little. "You've been gone for, what, a year? The guy must be worried sick."
"He's been trapped for most of it," Enid said in Castiel's defense.
"Yeah, but Dean doesn't know that," Claire pointed out.
Carl, somewhat bemused at the topic of conversation, tentatively suggested, "Can't you, like, broadcast back to him? Let him know you're okay?"
Castiel shook his head sadly. "Unfortunately no. Human senses are far too limited."
"Rude," said Claire, scrunching her nose.
Enid hummed in thought. "Let me ask you something. What was the last thing you said to him? Before you took off?"
"And got yourself captured," Claire added, raising an eyebrow.
"It was quite mundane. Dean had left his jacket outside, so I told him I would bring it in." He tilted his head and frowned. "That was when you prayed to me, Claire."
Enid's mouth opened and closed a few times. Finally, she shook her head and sighed. "Oh, Cas."
"You didn't even tell him?" Claire asked, covering her mouth with her hand.
"There was no time," Castiel protested. "You were in danger!"
"You could have left a note! It would've taken you two more seconds!" Claire countered. She shook her head. "Poor Dean."
Castiel, concern creeping into his eyes, asked, "What should I do?"
It was Enid who replied, "You know Dean's okay, that's the important thing. You should think about what you'll say when you see him again."
"Don't downplay it," Claire suggested, tapping her finger to her chin, "but don't grovel, either. Yes, you flew off without telling him, but it's not your fault you got captured."
"I wasn't planning to grovel. I was just thinking I should probably say hello," said Castiel, taken aback. He thinned his mouth, frowning in concentration. "I could… bring him a gift? He likes pie. And… toilet paper."
Enid tsked. "I wouldn't lead with that. And where are you gonna find pie, anyway?"
"What do you suggest?" Castiel asked, watching her keenly.
Feeling a little awkward and out of place discussing Castiel's love life, Carl quietly hastened his steps. The guys were up ahead, threading a short way down the road. Jake and Scott were casually swinging Oliver between them, although they and Mikey seemed to be in a heated discussion of their own.
"-makes sense if you think about it," Mikey was saying, gesturing animatedly.
"What does?" Carl asked as he caught up.
Scott huffed out a laugh. "Mikey wants us to wear Crocs."
"Huh?"
"I didn't say Crocs," Mikey protested, raising his voice in annoyance. "I said plastic . We could wear rain boots."
Not for the first time, Carl wondered if Mikey was a little bit insane.
There was a walker up ahead, standing listlessly in the middle of the road. It was missing one of its shoes. Drawn by the noise, the walker slowly pivoted in their direction. It let out a low groan. All alone, the thing was a mild threat at best, but the teenagers nevertheless crowded around little Oliver.
Mikey carried on. "Think about it. You're saying their teeth are covered in acid, yeah?" He pointed at the creature moving slowly toward them. "Acid doesn't eat through plastic. Haven't any of you seen Breaking Bad?"
Carl shrugged. He took out his knife, allowing the walker to catch up to him. "My mom didn't let me watch it." With a grunt of effort, he pushed the creature by the chest, making it stumble back. Before it could recover, Carl shoved his knife through its eye, killing it instantly. "She said it was too violent."
The twins took Oliver each by the hand and swung him over the dead body as if it was just another obstacle in their path. Carl vaguely remembered doing the same thing with his parents back when he was little. There weren't any corpses lying around the street back then.
"I just watched it on playback when my parents weren't home," said Mikey, stepping over the corpse as well. He sighed wistfully. "God, I miss television."
"We have DVDs back home," Carl pointed out.
Mikey scoffed. "It's not the same thing. How many freaking times can you watch Footloose?"
"You guys waste genny power on TV?" Jake asked, scrunching his face.
Carl, boasting just a little bit, replied, "We don't use generators. Alexandria's hooked on solar, it's awesome." He grinned. "When we get there, I'm gonna show-"
"Stop," came a stern warning from behind. The teenagers instantly halted.
Castiel and the girls caught up to them. Carl saw that Judith had been deposited in Claire's arms. Castiel, who had sounded the warning, was staring into the distance, a look of concentration on his face.
"What is it?" Carl asked, squinting in the same direction. He couldn't see anything except the road curving up to a hill up ahead, disappearing beyond the horizon. They were coming up to a bridge.
"More hunters?" Scott asked, unstrapping his rifle.
"Cas can't sense them," Carl reminded him.
"No," said Castiel, still staring into the distance. His eyes narrowed. "A herd. Large."
Carl swore under his breath. There wasn't anywhere to go but into the woods. If the herd got turned, that was going to be the worst place to fend off against them. When they had the van, they would sometimes hide, quietly, and wait for the dead to pass, but here they had no such luxury.
"We could go under that bridge," Claire suggested, shifting a little with Judith in her arms. "Wait them out."
Jake shook his head. "If they hear us we're dead. They'll drop right on top of us." He looked at Castiel, then. "Are you sure you can't do that thing-" he held both hands in front of his eyes and mimed an explosion, complete with sound effects.
Castiel grimaced. "I'd rather not risk that." He cocked his head. "But I may have another idea."
They spent the next twenty minutes clearing the bridge.
"This is ridiculous," said Claire, twirling her knife in her hand.
Carl gave her a side look. "You'd rather turn back?"
Claire sighed. "I'd rather actually help out. Cas is not gonna leave any for us."
"We'll jump in if we have to," Carl replied, shrugging. He had his knife in hand, plus a pistol tucked into his waistband, courtesy of the hunters.
They waited for the herd to come into view. It didn't take long. At least a hundred strong, the walkers' tireless moaning grew louder with every passing moment. It wasn't the largest herd Carl had ever seen, but without access to his powers, even Castiel would have struggled against such numbers.
The idea was to push the encroaching herd off the bridge. Castiel had ripped off the metal guardrails lining the road to make that easier. There was a deep trench underneath the bridge, which probably flooded whenever it rained, but at present, it was just a deep, dry passage. The walkers weren't going to be able to climb back out.
"What do you say, Captain Hook, are you ready for this?" Jake asked cheerfully, coming up behind them with his crowbar slung over one shoulder.
"For the last time, Jake, Hook was missing a hand ."
They were standing second in line for the upcoming battle. It was just Carl, Claire, and Jake, the more experienced fighters among the teenagers. While Castiel faced off the herd, they were supposed to take care of any stragglers. Enid was waiting much farther back. Her job was to run back and warn the others in case things got messy and they needed to make a hasty retreat.
"Why isn't Scott here, again?" Claire wondered.
"He's got like six bullets. He ain't gonna waste them on the dead." Jake grimaced. "Plus, he's got his thing."
"One minute," Castiel called out, no-nonsense. He stalked to the middle of the bridge, carrying a sizable utility pole over one shoulder, cables still attached to the top. He dropped it next to the others he had uprooted, before looking back at them, stern-faced. "Get in position."
"Sir, yes, sir," Claire intoned with a mock salute.
The first walkers made their way to the bridge. They moved faster than usual, pushed forward by the crowd. Walkers always seemed more riled up in groups, as if anxious to get their pound of flesh.
Castiel stood his ground, patiently waiting until the first wave was in reach. Then he struck out with one of the poles - hard. Four or more walkers went soaring over the bridge's edge, gnarled hands grasping uselessly at the air. They hit the bottom of the trench with a dull thump. The next wave was met with the same fate. And the next. And the next. A few particularly stubborn walkers didn't make it over the edge on the first try. They managed to shuffle to their feet, only for their rasping cries to be cut short by the next pole swing.
"You know what this reminds me of?" Claire said mildly, watching the spectacle with an almost bored expression. "Whack-A-Mole."
"Really?" said Jake, tilting his head. "I'd say it's more like bowling."
The pole in Castiel's hands snapped. Carl tensed. Claire took a step forward, weapon in hand. Neither of them got the chance to get their hands dirty.
Castiel dodged a pair of grabbing hands. He took a step back and in a single fluid movement picked up another long, thick pole and struck up in a curve at the nearing walkers. They, too, went flying over the edge of the bridge.
"Well, that was anticlimactic," Claire said later, tucking her unused weapon back into her sleeve.
"You wanted a fight?" Carl asked dryly.
Claire threw him a grin. "It's good for the soul." She went to peer over at the writhing mess of bodies under the bridge. "Ugh, can you imagine falling into that?"
With a grin that never signaled anything good, Jake came up behind Claire. He gave her a mock shake-shove, grabbing her arms to make sure she didn't actually fall over. Claire screeched , twisted around, and slammed her foot down hard on top of his.
"Bitch!" Jake yowled, stumbling backward and falling on his ass.
Claire gave him the finger. She marched past Jake's sprawled form without giving his a second glance. Carl wisely stepped out of her way.
"You deserved that," said Castiel, eyebrow raised. He held out his hand.
"You always take her side, man," Jake complained feebly, still rubbing his sore foot.
The group ventured into a small town next, intending to spend the night there. They were passing by a gated schoolyard when Claire suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. Carl, who had a problem with depth perception since losing an eye, nearly ran into her.
"What is it?" Carl asked, following her line of sight.
Schools had closed down early, back in those first days of the pandemic. There were no crowds of tiny dead children, at least none that Carl could see. A few walkers ambled along the schoolyard, rendered harmless by the sturdy fence. They were starting to get noticed, however.
"I know her," said Claire, pointing at one of the walkers. It had a woman's features, long and thin with clamps of dark ratty hair. "I mean, I think so. She looks like my neighbor."
"Mrs. Cooper," Castiel nodded, coming to stand next to Claire. "Your father didn't trust her." His expression darkened. "She was a vegan."
The walker snapped its teeth at them. Claire scrunched her face. "Not anymore. Poor Mrs. Cooper."
Castiel grabbed the walker's reaching arm through the fence. With a jerk forward, he brought its face closer to the barricade, then neatly jabbed it through the skull. It died immediately, moan cut short, but remained upright, its arm stuck in the fence. Castiel pushed it back gently, allowing the body to fall.
"She's a long way from home," said Claire, shaking her head sadly. "I wonder how she ended up here."
"They go where their instincts take them." Castiel watched her with interest. "It's just her body, Claire. She's long gone."
"Yeah, I know." She stopped a moment to root through her backpack. She took out a long-sleeved shirt. Reaching through the fence, she threw the shirt at the body, just about managing to cover Mrs. Cooper's face. "Least I can do," she said.
"Of course," said Castiel. "Come on, we shouldn't linger."
They found a house for the night. It was still early, but Castiel didn't want to keep going after it got dark. It must have been a quiet neighborhood before the pandemic. The house had boarded-up windows and an overgrown lawn. It was easy enough to secure, once they got inside. Someone had gone through it before. The kitchen cupboard was empty, as well as the basement pantry. The adjacent houses were in a similarly sad state, but they'd lucked out and found a stash of candy in some teenager's closet.
Jake, sighing contentedly, plopped down on the sofa with a candy bar. Claire immediately got up and changed seats.
"I said I was sorry," Jake called after her.
Carl winced. "Maybe don't push it. She's pretty dangerous with that knife."
The candy, at least, was awesome. It turned out that Oliver had never had candy before. The kid ate a chocolate bar and looked like he had discovered God. Sure, they had candy in fake Heaven, but food back there never tasted quite right, not unless you had some memory of it. Carl remembered trying green curry and having it taste like marshmallows to him.
They gave Judith sour candy to try. She pulled the most hilarious faces. And, after they insisted he partake as well, so did Castiel.
"This isn't food," Castiel said, horrified. His scrunched-up face was a mirror image of Judith's, making them laugh out loud.
"Sure it is," said Scott through a mouthful of skittles.
They settled in for the night a short time afterward. It was a big house, and for once there was room to spare. Judith once again refused to sleep. One moment she was sitting next to Carl, the next, climbing up the stairs like a chipmunk on speed, practically vibrating with energy.
Jake ended up bringing her downstairs. She hung upside down in his grip, screaming with laughter. "Yo, Prince Zuko," said the exhausted teenager before dropping Judith in Carl's lap, "I think this belongs to you."
Squirming in his lap, Judith poked Carl right in his eye socket. "Ow."
She giggled. Carl sighed. Giving Judith all that sugar was probably a mistake. He had a feeling it was going to be another long night.
A/N: Things are about to get complicated. Stay tuned! And if you feel like it, please leave a review. Those make me very happy!