Carl doesn't ever stop talking.
He speaks rapidly, spouting out stories with names I'm unfamiliar with. So far all I know is that his parents names are Lori and Rick. The fact that they were still alive didn't faze me one bit. I was already positive they were with the happiness in Carl's strides. I was glad that he still had them, but it didn't stop the piece of information from stabbing me in the heart.
"Wait, wait," I interrupt his rambling in the middle of a story. "You were shot?"
If anything he seems excited when he nods. "The bullet split into six pieces!"
"Inside of your body?" I ask incredulously.
In reply, he reaches for the bottom of his shirt and pulls it up, showcasing an angry patch of stitched skin on his stomach. I can't help but gasp as I look at it. A bullet piercing your abdomen would be enough pain, but for Carl, he had to endure even more than just that. Surgery was bad even before the loss of technology, so going through it without any of that...I don't envy him for it. Not at all.
"It's a cool battle scar, isn't it?"
I snort before I can help it. I'd known the guy for about five minutes and already knew he only lived on the bright side. I'm torn between yelling at him that no one should be this cheerful and sticking to his side because he makes me feel normal again.
I try to keep the edge of sarcasm out of my voice when I tell him, "Yeah. Cool."
He looked awfully proud of my agreement, pulling his shirt back down with a grin. "I know." I hold back my smile and my eyeroll at his response as his gaze moves away from me and to something in the distance. His eyes - an enthralling shade of grey in the light of the sun - widen a moment later. It's not until he points that I search for the location of his attention.
An RV sits in the middle of a cluster of tall trees, surrounded by multicolored tents and picnic tables. Cars are parked off to the side, one of which is surrounded by three bodies that I can't make out from the distance. I see other figures moving around, not much, but enough to have me curious.
"How many people are in your group?" I wonder aloud.
Carl looks to his hands, counting with the help of his fingers. "Eleven, including me."
"Are there any other kids?"
"Only me and Sophia. And you now, I guess." He sends me an encouraging smile that conveys a thousand words, most of them containing remarks about my loneliness, I'm sure of it. I don't know how someone who can't relate to you at all can help so much in untying the nervous knot in your stomach.
I stare at him and let my eyes run over his features, absentmindedly connecting the dots of his freckles and trying to soak up all the power I can from his gleeful smile. The longer I look at them, the more I realize just how beautiful his eyes are. I've always been slightly obsessed with them, enraptured by the amount of different shades of the same color that can merge to create something that should totally be impossible.
It's kind of magical.
"Thank you." I blurt, the softness in my voice surprising me.
His eyebrows pinch in confusion. "Why are you thanking me?"
"I was alone," I offer an indifferent shrug, but the hands shrouded in my pockets tell a separate story with the way they're clenched. "You didn't have to talk to me or anything, but you did. And even though we just met, you're trusting me enough to introduce me to your group. You're giving me a chance. Thank you."
When I meet his eyes, he beams and the sight of it completely slices through the serious air I expelled, dragging up a chuckle from the happy part of my soul that's been hiding for the past four days. And when I heard the sound of it escaping my lips, I made a decision.
I wanted to be Carl's friend.
He was what I could describe as a breath of fresh air. I'm unsure of the amount of time it's been since the walkers took over, but for the first chunk of it I was just like him. I was intact, a slice of innocent perfection. I still had my family and in my book that meant that the world was just like it was before - only with a few terrifying bumps in the road.
I was new to the real world. The one without the veil of naivety. I'd finally passed through the fog and everything was in clear, heartbreaking color that I couldn't escape from. There was no stepping back now. You could either step forward on your own or be pushed by the threat of death. My wounds were still fresh and burning yet it felt like it'd been years without any improvement. Being alone can do that to you even if it's just for a few days.
Carl was the poster child for innocence and something about the carefree air he threw off and the fact that the smile on his face was constant had me feeling as if all those wounds were finally being stitched up.
Still there, still painful, but healing. At least it was something.
"You see him?" Carl brings me out of my staring contest with his profile with a nudge of my shoulder and another point of his finger. The man he points at is easier to see now that we're growing closer. The tug of dread and fretfulness in my stomach doesn't stop me from taking in the man's appearance. Mason would know whether or not this guy was trustworthy with just a glance, but I'm stuck telling myself that I can do what he can and absolutely failing at it in the end.
With a hand on his hip and his head cocked to the side, intimidation is the first thing I feel when I catch sight of him. Slicked back dark curls are tousled when he runs a hand through them. The corners of his mouth are tugged downwards in a scowl that does nothing to help my image of him nor does the stubble forming along his jaw. His determined stare is fixed on the map spread against the hood of the yellow car as are the two men's on either side of the vehicle. One of them are bald and looks just as - if not more - intimidating than the first guy with his army-esque look and the other man just looks bored, resting his chin against his hand.
"That's my Dad."
I stop in my tracks and turn to look at him. "That's your Dad?"
His nod is vigorous and his expression is proud. "Yep!"
The resemblance is easily seen of course, but thinking about Carl being the offspring of this scary man is just a tad unbelievable.
When Carl realizes that we've stopped moving, his fingers grip my wrist and I'm being dragged across this farm for the second time today. "Dad!" He calls when we get closer to the small camp.
Carl's dad - Rick, if I remember correctly - freezes mid-bite into a fruit I'm still too far away to classify and glances up. I see the double take he makes when he spots the extra human being next to his son. And then his eyes narrow.
I'm sure it's physically impossible for my nerves to be more intense.
The bald man speaks first. "Carl, who the hell is this?"
Warm welcome.
Rick places the fruit on the map in front of him and my mouth starts to water when I realize that it's a peach. "Shane-"
"This is Nevaeh." Carl cuts off the obvious beginnings of a yelling match with me as the main target with a thrilled gesture and an animated tone. "I found her in the stables. She brought Nervous Nelly back when she found her in the woods."
Nervous Nelly? Nothing about that horse screamed nervous. Confident, abso-freaking-lutely but that horse was anything but jittery and jumpy.
The bald man - who I'm guessing is Shane - runs a hand over his head, agitation making itself known on his face. "You can't just go bringin' strangers into camp. You know that Carl."
Carl rolls his eyes and seeing the action on his face forces me to hold back a smile. "She was alone. I wasn't going to leave her there. You wouldn't have." He crosses his arms and I'm almost positive I hear a hum of contempt from his throat.
Shane is clearly thinking of a way to reply to Carl without hurting his feelings and his eyes are focused on me - or more importantly - my gun. I'm about to snatch it out of my holster and hand it to him so I can make this nerve-wracking exchange easier when Rick steps around the large man and in front of me. His previously threatening eyes have turned gentle. They're the same distracting blue as Carl's.
"You're alone?" Rick's tone matches the nature of his eyes and I decide to cooperate with him because I already like him better than Shane.
I nod.
"For how long?"
My grip on the inner pockets of my jacket increases. "Four days."
He looks me up and down, stare lingering longer on the gun strapped to my leg. I sigh when I notice it, reaching down and grasping the metal weapon out of its holster. I hold it in front of me, the butt facing him. "You don't kill me, I don't kill you. I don't even know how to use this thing, but if it'll help you trust me, here. I better get it back, though." I try to lace my words with dauntlessness, but the small occasional tremor on the back end of them betrays me.
I catch the amused twitch of Rick's lips when he tenderly takes the gun from my hands and hands it to a shocked and mad looking Shane without losing the contact he'd made with me. I hadn't expected him to act like this. Carl being a part of this group eased me a little bit but I at least thought that a gun would be put to my temple. Instead, I didn't see any guns. Even the holster hanging from Rick's belt was empty.
It wasn't until I moved my stare from Rick that I discovered all movement in the camp had ceased. Nine pairs of eyes were on me, examining and judging wordlessly. My skin crawled with discomfort and I fidgeted uneasily at the feeling. I cast my eyes anywhere but someone's face and ending up looking at the ground. A tiny white flower winked up at me and bent with the stress of a small wind gust. I wanted to pick it and stomp on it at the same time.
A hand on my shoulder has me flinching and snapping my head up. It's Rick. His smile communicates understanding and that's what guarantees me that he is one hundred percent Carl's father. "Follow me."
I thank him inside my head for noticing my uneasiness at all the attention and gladly listen to him. Carl starts along with me and when Rick catches this, he holds up a hand. "No. Stay here." He orders as if he's a dog.
Carl's eyes narrow in a glare that kind of makes him look like a bunny and I bite my lip to keep my smile at bay as he argues, "But I brought her here!"
Rick simply places a hand on his son's shoulder, like he did me. "Go find your Mom, okay? Nevaeh and I are just gonna have a talk." A talk. That sounds more scary than it should.
Carl sighs, slouching his shoulders. His bunny glare turns into hopeful big blue eyes. "You're gonna let her stay right?"
My heart warms at his concern for me and the urge to cry hits me like a wave. Tears invade my eyes before I can even comprehend them and I have to blink quickly to shoo them away and recompose myself. I take deep breaths and keep my stare locked on the duo, too afraid to meet the eyes of anyone else.
Rick spares a glance at me before turning back to Carl and uttering a low, "We're gonna have to see about that."
My stomach drops.
Carl frowns. "Okay." He stands there for a few more beats before releasing another sigh and sending his father a sad look, walking away from me and further into the tree and tent infested camp. The loss of his presence brings an unexpected surge of nerves. I hadn't realized how much at ease he'd put me until I was alone with his Dad who seemed like both a teddy bear and a murderer.
Rick doesn't look at all bothered by Carl's anguish, sending me a small smile and continuing his journey to wherever I'm supposed to be following him to. I keep my eyes locked on the top of his head so I won't make contact with any others.
We end up at the beige colored RV, Rick opening the door for me. The inside is dark and for some reason, looking into the space, I felt as if I was walking to my death. I hoped the gulp I took was unheard as my foot met the step.
The first thing Rick does when he enters is pull back the curtains so that the entire room is engulfed in light. I let out a relieved breath when I'm submerged in sun and take a look around. Plates sit on the counter by the sink, one stack clean and sparkly and the other with what looks like grease on them. Are these people eating things that involve grease? I haven't had greasy food in forever. God I miss french fries.
He sits at the booth in front of me and gestures to the opposite side for me to sit. Right under the, How about a nice cup of shut the hell up? sign. That calms me significantly as I shed my backpack and my wakizashi - which I put right in the middle of the table so I can seem trustworthy and not like I'm trying to slice off his head.
The silence feels awfully awkward. Rick's icy eyes are on my sword, tracing the grey leather stitching on the hilt. When he finally looks at me head on I have to force the lump of fear and nervousness down my throat. "I'm Rick Grimes," He starts, his southern twang making an even greater appearance in the pronunciation of his name.
Even though he already knows my name, I assume we're doing introductions so I reply, "Nevaeh Summers."
"You were in a group...before." Cut right to the important stuff.
My hands trade their grip on my jacket pockets for the cushion of the booth, wrapping around it mercilessly. "There were about twenty people until…" Images of people getting devoured flash across my mind and I will them to go away. "We were overrun four days ago."
Rick's quiet for a moment before he asks softly, "Your family?"
I look down at my dark colored shorts. This would be a lot easier without eye contact. "My Dad died about two months before all of this, my Mom and brother when our camp was attacked by walkers." It feels like my heart is being cut apart by a sharp knife when I say the words.
I hear Rick's intake of breath. The sound of it makes me feel pitiful. Thirteen, no family. Completely alone and desperate for some form of company. Not to mention the fact that I haven't exactly bathed in the past four days. That mixed with the blood and sweat I've collected must make me look - and smell - disgustingly unapproachable.
There's a long pause and my leg jumps under the table as I wait for Rick's next question or the look of pity I constantly got after my father's death. Pity makes me feel like a small, squashed ant. I'm absolutely helpless because my insides are suddenly outside and I can't move, so all I can do is sit there and just...die.
Rick doesn't do the latter, instead reaching and running his fingers gently over the hilt of the sword as if he's scared that he'll hurt it, finally breaking the silence with, "You used this to protect yourself?"
I nod slowly, murmuring, "My brother taught me."
Rick frowns and looks back at me with empathetic eyes. That's where Carl gets it from. No doubt. The tenseness in my form lessens at the sight. He doesn't understand. He can't. I don't see shattered irises. He's the first adult I've met without them.
But that doesn't stop the sudden respect I have for the man.
He looks like he's about to say something when the door of the RV swings open and Shane comes bounding inside, nose crinkled with the force of his scowl and dark eyes focused on me, lit with a fire that has my slacked grip on the seat tightening.
"The hell you doing Rick? Bringing a little girl into our camp?"
That lights up the defenses I didn't even know I had and I'm standing before I know it. "I am not a little girl! I've killed walkers, I've watched people scream for help because they're being devoured by them and not been able to do anything because if I didn't move I would join them! Yeah, I'm short and I'm young, but guess what? Now, that doesn't mean anything! I can handle myself well enough and know that not everything is a freaking fairy tale anymore, alright?" I poke a finger into his chest. "I'm not a little kid anymore and you can't call me that when you don't even know me! So shut up, okay? Carl brought me here because he saw these things even though I can tell he hasn't even killed a walker yet. You might want to take a page from his book, Shane." My breathing is ragged after I finish and I attempt to hide the surprise that encompasses me after I realize what I've done. Shane looks flabbergasted and fuming all in one facial expression and I turn my head over to see Rick staring at me with both astonishment and reverence.
I take a step back from the burly man that I just unleashed all my rage from the past four days on, my cheeks burning even though I'm extremely satisfied at getting my point across. I just stand there, twiddling my thumbs behind my back as I wait for their reactions.
Shane definitely has a temper and I probably just started a hate war between the both of us, which would be fine with me seeing as I'd started holding a grudge on him the second he opened his mouth. Rick on the other hand, is unreadable to me, having the teddy bear/murderer appearance. He soothes my jittering and kind of scares me at the same time.
"Rick," Shane says, clearly set on kicking me out of here. Or killing me. Either way, I'm ready to grab my sword and run even though the door is being blocked. I could always jump out the window, right?
"I think she's proved herself just fine, Shane." Rick interjects.
"Really?" I ask with an uncontrollable smile at the same time Shane yells, "What?"
"She can protect herself. And if she needs to, she'll help out around the camp." That's a demand. I let you stay here, you help out. I nod so frantically I'm afraid my neck's gonna snap. "Carl needs someone his age around here with Sophia missin'. He needs a friend."
Shane softens at the mention of the young boy, the spark of anger in his eyes depleting until it's almost nonexistent. He glances from me to Rick. "Fine," He grumbles. "She can stay. You might wanna run it by the others. I'm sure they don't want a stranger in our camp either." The door shuts with a loud bang as he leaves, vibrating from the force of it.
I think I just made an enemy.
Oops.
"The owner of this farm doesn't want guns on his property," Rick brings my attention to him. He holds up my gun. "I'm gonna have to keep this, but it'll be right here." He reaches under the table and points at a police bag that I hadn't noticed. The barrels of other guns poke through the half done zipper and instead of it intimidating me, I feel an odd sense of comfort knowing that they can protect themselves. That what happened to my camp might not happen here too.
I nod back at him. As long as the gun is still accessible when I need it and I know it's safe, he can do whatever he wants with it.
I swing my bag back onto my back, already feeling more at ease with the weight of it. I reach for my sword, but stop halfway. "Am I allowed to keep my sword?" I ask. I'll feel uncomfortable if I don't have it. I've grown accustomed to the relief it provides my scared mind.
"Of course."
It's slung over my shoulder right after the words leave his lips. "So…" I start awkwardly, my hands wrestling with each other because of my nerves. "I can stay?"
Rick sends me a smile. His blue eyes crinkle. "I don't see why not. But you will need to tell me how you got here. It'll help us find a person from our group that went missin'."
Sophia.
"No problem. Thank you, Rick." I pour emotion into my voice so he can capture how truly serious I am. "I know this is a big deal with rations and everything, so I'll go on runs if you need me to or do anything else-"
He waves me off. "Just...hang out with Carl, alright?"
I can tell how much he cares about his son by the genuine concern on his face and nod in return to his request. "Well," I sling my backpack onto one shoulder so I can unzip it and pull out the two cans of peaches I scavenged. "At least take these. Think of it as...an entrance fee or something."
I'm about to leave when I remember that no one out here except for Carl and Shane - who probably doesn't like me too much - are the only people of this group that know me. "Um, Rick? Nobody's gonna like, kill me or anything when I go out there, right?"
Rick chuckles lightly. "I'll go with you, introduce you to everyone."
"Thanks." I say for what feels like the millionth time today.
I let him go first because, frankly, fear and excitement are not two things that mix together well and I can't stop fidgeting in my spot. It's not like they'll be waiting out there with pitchforks and torches and the second I leave this RV they'll charge. Even though that sounds like a kind of cool picture to draw, I'd rather not have to sketch it from experience.
And I would very much not like to die.
I can't help but notice how confident Rick's steps are. If only I could say the same about mine. I stumble on my way down the stairs and almost face plant into the ground. Thank God for railings. That would not have been a great introduction to the rest of the group. I clutch onto the piece of metal with white knuckles on the rest of the small journey down.
The alleviation of my stress when my feet hit the dirt is interrupted when a voice asks, "How'd it go?"
I shriek. Carl stands to my right with curious eyes and a wide smile. I take a second to recover from the spike in my heart rate before I try to remember what he said to me. I don't succeed.
"What?"
"With my Dad. Are you staying?"
"Oh. Yeah, I am."
His excited smile grows as he adjusts his hat. "Cool."
"Nevaeh."
I turn to see Rick, who jerks his head in a motion for me to follow. I nod to him and tell Carl, "He's introducing me to everyone.", failing in keeping the excitement out of my voice.
"Hey!" Carl calls out to me when I've begun to walk away. "Talk to you later?"
He has no idea how good it feels to hear that word. Later. A promise that he'll still be there. Alive.
"Yeah." I've already turned and caught up to Rick when I mumble, "Later."