In that moment, Carl could not find it within himself to listen to the shouts from his approaching father. Every word Carl heard is meant to egg him on, to make him kill the walker standing in front of him. Carl himself was perplexed, as his deep-seated hatred for all walkers should have been forever rampant in his heart, but the odd behavior of this one seemed to be enough to extinguish it!

The walker was far too different to simply kill off right away. Carl knew that Rick would see that right away. Moments later, his expectations were fulfilled. His father's hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"Carl, what the hell are you waiting for?" The enraged man asked. He then looked up to the walker that his son was staring at so intently, and he squinted his eyes in confusion almost immediately.

"Dad, I can't just shoot it! Look at it, and tell me that's just another walker."

Rick held up his hand to stop his son from continuing, and drew his own gun. He thought of a woman from an eternity ago, who looked as dead as one could be, and yet was alive and speaking. She was walking alone, through an infested forest, with pale skin, a hollow face, and matted hair. There seemed to be a resemblance. Rick pointed his gun sharply and turned his head to look Carl in the eye.

"Get Michonne and Glenn, right now. There's a stash of rope and straight jackets in the chest under the stairs, bring them." Rick took a sharp breath when he did not receive an immediate answer. His son was stammering uncharacteristically, and Rick did not have that kind of time. How long was a walker just going to stand there? "Carl, go now!" Rick's voice came out hoarse and panicked, and was strong enough to send Carl sprinting for the hole in the fence.

Carl wanted to shout and scream for Michonne, as though she would hear and come running, supplies in hand. Despite Michonne's acute and diverse abilities, she could not read minds.

Carl was running faster than he had in a very long time. Every now and then, he would trip on a rock hiding in the grass, or would be forced to evade an excited walker within range. He made it to the hole in the fence, panting and with sweat dripping from his face and neck. It was a horrible feeling for Carl to be so overheated, thirsty, and anxious, but he could release a genuine sigh of relief when he saw Michonne wandering, no more than fifty feet away.

"Get Glenn! We need help!" Carl knew he shouted a bit louder than necessary, but at least it served to capture the swordswoman's attention. Carl approached fast. He could see that Michonne was surprised by the sudden plea from Carl. The two had never quite seen a reason to speak, for Michonne could be incredibly despondent, and most likely viewed Carl as little more than an annoying little idiot. That position would have to be debated at a later time, though.

"What happened?" She asked. She stood in a defensive stance, with her arm twitching for her sword.

Carl suppressed a coughing fit before the answering. "No time. Bring a straight jacket and a rope. Go fast."

Michonne did not need to be told twice. She relaxed her sword arm and made a dash for the prison interior.

Carl was on his way back to his father, when Michonne and Glenn caught up. Was such a fast reaction even possible?

"Come on, they're over here!" Carl pointed to his father and another figure that stood perfectly still, even as the three approached rather noisily.

In no time at all, the walker had been pushed to the ground, and pushed into her straight jacket with a surprisingly small display of resistance. Even before they tied the thick rope about her throat and jaw, she did not make an attempt to bite.

"What the hell are we doing?" Michonne hissed angrily. "You're trying to tell me that we are wasting our time on this?" She obviously wasn't quite open to the obvious situation here.

"Shut up," Carl replied. "You know as well as I do that this walker's fucked up somehow." He ignored he dangerous flash in his father's eyes at the rough language. "If it's not trying to hurt us, she's defying everything we know about walkers. We need to watch her! You don't see one like this every day, and I for one find the lack of biting fucking intriguing."

Michonne's face twitched a bit. 'So that's why I don't talk to this kid,' she remembered. 'What a little asshole.'

They dragged the walker back to the prison in tense silence. The walker was making strange sounds as she stumbled to keep up with the tug of the rope. First, there were the closed-mouthed moans that sounded like a whining child. Carl winced occasionally at the sounds. He had never heard a walker sound so sad before. But the nearer the got to the prison, the whining turned to intermittent grunts. The grunts soon turned into screaming growls, as loud as one would think a walker could produce with its mouth bound shut so tightly. Soon, the odd walker began to have tiny fits, in which it would thrash about, trying to free its arms from the jacket, and to rip apart the rope around its head. As quickly as these fits came on, they ceased, and the odd walker returned to her whining moans, walking obediently behind her captors.


Well hello there, dear reader! First author's note for this story. :) I hope you're enjoying, and I would like to sincerely thank you for reading. I plan to update this story on a weekly basis, probably every thursday or friday. As always, please fav, follow, and review! You get a virtual hug for doing so. :3 Any suggestions for this story are also very welcome. Have fun with your stuff and thangs this week! 3

~Sketchypheebs