Reviews:

Futago no Akuma Shimai - Thank you for reading this far! It means the world to me. Really glad that you're enjoying Rhys and that you like the dynamic the boys have. Wow you are doing well for 5am... I can barely write my own name at that time! You'll have to wait and see to find out why Rhys is good with Judy... okay fine, a little hint- your guess is almost correct... almost. Thanks again for the review and support!


We walk all afternoon, and when the sun goes down, we walk all night. My feet like they're going to give out, blistered as we pass bullet-riddled signs warning of 'escaped convicts,' they make me frown. Not sure that I'd use that word to describe us.

Carl starts dragging me more than helping me. Only letting go of me to clear walkers shuffling their feet across the road since we can't outrun them. I feel useless.

He keeps looking behind us. No matter how far we walk, the black smoke on the horizon still seems to loom over us. I want to get us away from it, for his sake.

It's now the day after the fall, early in the morning. We pass by a silver car, its driver-side door lying on the floor beside it. It's trunk ajar, opened suitcases on the dented roof. Carl doesn't stop to search it, so I don't either, not having much say in the matter anyway.

Slightly further up the road, we see a dusty dirt trail leading to an old and overgrown petrol station, just hidden behind the tree line. The words, 'No Going Back,' are marked in red paint on the wall.

Carl tells me we have to stop. He's wrong.

He's telling me we have to fix my leg, bloodstained glass still protruding from it. I tell him we can keep going. We have to keep going.

He ignores me, leaving me to hop on one leg in the middle of the road. He walks to the front door, using Sasha's rifle as protection. Handicapped without him, I follow his lead, using my spear as support.

I'm about to ask if he has a plan, but before I can, he bangs on the door with the butt of the rifle, shouting an assortment of rude words, some of which I think he learnt from me. He yells the word cunt... definitely from me.

We wait.

Nothing.

So we wait some more.

Still nothing.

Carl opens the door slowly. A bell above us chimes, giving me a nostalgic buzz of normality.

"We're clear," he tells me.

"Yeah... I've got eyes, doofus," I smile through the pain in my aching leg. He doesn't smile back. Instead, shooting me a look of death.

I find a seat on an upturned stacking crate while Carl ensures the station is clear, borrowing my spear for his sweep.

He returns minutes later with a blue-capped water bottle and three dusty packets of trail mix.

Carl throws the trail mix at my feet, "I'm gonna search that wrecked car out front," he leaves through the front, bell ringing, water bottle in hand.

I count the seconds in my head while he's gone but lose track around minute six.

He walks back in not long after, missing the water bottle, and instead holding a green box with the words 'FIRST AID' written in bold white letters.

Carl stitches up my leg. While I munch on a handful of stale nuts, wincing as he cleans the gash with an antiseptic wipe. I take my jeans off so Carl can bandage the wound, and I make jokes to lighten the awkwardness, which he does not appreciate.

I put my jeans back on. My leg and sliced up arms bandaged. I feel like an Egyptian mummy, ready for the tombs.

"My Dad's probably dead," Carl says to a lone peanut in his hand.

"He was with Michonne," I tell him, ignoring the peanut he's replaced me with, "She said he was alive before I left them. He'll be okay."

"And how the fuck would you know?" Carl snaps, dropping the peanut back into the bag of its nuttier friends.

"I don't," I stammer, "But I know your Dad's a fighter. He won't die easily."

"How are you always so positive?" He asks me, eyes on the ground, his voice low. I smile, taking it as a compliment until he continues.

"Everyone we know is dead. Our home got burned to the ground. Karen is dead. Beth is dead, Hershel, Daryl, Tyreese, Sasha. They're all dead!" he looks up, furious, "AND MY BABY SISTER IS FUCKING DEAD!" he screams at me. "So don't tell me what you know. Because you don't know shit, Rhys."

We both go quiet.

With our appetites gone and the concept of talking seeming to be off the table, we just sit in our created silence.

Carl finally breaks it, "Get some sleep."


I dream of blood and bullets, tearing through our home and family, broken music, and shattered glass. Java doesn't save anyone. I see the Governor slicing his way through everyone. Hershel, Michonne, Daryl, Beth, Rick, Maggie, Glenn, Sasha- all of them falling to his mighty blows. He kills Tyreese with a single round to the head, his brains covering Karen's grave. Blood runs through the prison cells, through the tombs, and into the courtyard. Carl begs me to help him, crying to me that he hates me. I watch from the bus- the door jammed shut. I scream for him, but he doesn't hear me.


I wake up, sweat dripping from my forehead, soaking through my clothes. I sit up, Carl beside me, still asleep. He looks so peaceful, but I know he's not. I know he has a war inside of him, one that I'm not sure he's winning.

It was the same day, now late afternoon.

I prepare lunch quietly, which involves me pouring trail mix into two plastic cups I find behind the counter. I also discover a faded picture of two older people, their smiles kind in that grandparent way, their hands interlocked. It makes me sad, so I screw it up and throw it across the room, not aim for Carl's head but hitting it all the same. He stirs, and I'm scared that I'm about to be shouted at, but he turns on the petrol station floor, still fast asleep.

I place one of the cups by his head and hobble outside to eat my own, making sure I don't knock the bell and disturb him.

The cool Georgia air feels good on my scarred face and bandaged arms as I sit against a fuel pump, Sasha's rifle on my lap. I can taste blood on my tongue, so I shove a fistful of dried fruits into my mouth to cover the flavour.

I notice dead leaves on the road have been blown to either side, meaning a car has been through while we slept.

The sound of the bell above the station door chimes, getting me to turn and see Carl coming outside, cup in hand.

We say good morning, and he even takes my hand when he sits beside me. I accept his silent apology and tell him about the leaves, but he doesn't seem surprised, telling me he heard it drive past.

"Sounded like a truck or something," he explains. Reading my mind, he continues with, "was headin' towards the prison. Couldn't have been one of us."

He rests his head on my shoulder. His hair smells different, now of burning Christmas trees.

"Is that Tyreese's beanie?" He looks up to the beanie keeping my wild hair in line.

"I forgot I had it on," I tell him, "told him I'd give it back at dinner."

I feel something washing through me. "I hope the kids are okay."

Carl nods, "Carol taught them how to survive in storytime. They'll be okay."

"Carol?"

Carl can sense my skepticism, even if it wasn't in my tone.

"She was a lot more capable than she let on." He tells me.

I think hard about this.

I can tell Carl's working up to something.

"Last night was stupid," he sighs. "I was stupid."

There it is.

I don't react, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with him.

He keeps talking, "I don't blame you. You were just there, man. "If I blame anyone, it's my Dad. He let this happen."

I lean into him.

He adds with a whisper, "I love how positive you are."


The day passes with nothing to show. We retreat inside when rain starts to fall from murky clouds. Carl leaves cups and buckets outside to collect it. I can tell he wants to move on, the smoke above the treeline serving as a brutal reminder of what we've lost.

We're debating what to do. I tell Carl that I'm strong enough to keep moving. Since he's not stupid, he doesn't believe me and suggests we stay at least for the night.

"The road's not going anywhere," he tells me.

I want to argue, knowing that staying this close to what was once our home is hurting him, but I know he's right.

Then there's a knock at the door, three gentle thuds.

We look at each other. Carl sees hope in my eyes, whereas I see skepticism with a trace of fear in his.

I keep my hand resting on my gun, holstered and hidden behind my back. As Carl cracks open the door, peering through, I see him relax slightly. Hope fills my body, from welling eyes to scrunched toes. Then Carl opens the door so that I can see past him. There stands a girl. Around our age, drenched by rain and covered in dirt. Her eyes wild and terrified.

We all stand in silence before I invite her in, feeling sorry for her. Carl gives me a look like the one he gave my joke earlier, checking outside the door before closing it behind the scared girl.

I break the silence, "What's your name?"

Silence.

"I'm Rhys," I try my best to smile, "that's Carl."

Silence.

"Look, either talk to us or leave," Carl tells her, frustrated.

"Emma," She speaks so softly I almost don't hear her.

"You hungry?" I offer a handful of trail mix.

She stays quiet but decides to take it gingerly.


-Carls POV-

The sun is replaced by the moon, as darkness and shadows are cast into the gas station.

Emma tells us she needs to keep moving once the rain subsides. Clearly still scared of something. She won't tell us what has her frightened but does suggest that we should think about moving on as well.

I watch from the other side of the room as Rhys talks to the girl. I'm sure he even gets a smile out of her at one point. I think about his first day in the prison, how everyone liked him and laughed at his dumb jokes. Even Judith liked him. Even I liked him.

We're all forced into silence as a horde passes by us. Emma is about ready to bolt, but Rhys manages to convince her otherwise. They came from the same direction we did but from the tree line instead of the road. I wonder how many of them are people we knew. By the gloomy look on Rhys's face, I can tell he thinks about it too.

The night grew long as the noise of the dead grew louder. We keep conversations to hushed whispers. Rhys asks Emma questions, to which she gives vague answers.

By the time dawn cracks through the trees accompanying the roadside- warming the gathered puddles along the asphalt -Rhys has fallen asleep.

His mouth open as he gently snored into the coat I'd given him what felt like days ago, rolled into a makeshift pillow. Emma is watching him too.

"What happened?" She asks me, eyes on him.

"How do you know something happened," I respond, eyes also on Rhys.

Emma shakes her head, "He's so sad," she tells me, "and you're angry at something," her voice has a croak in it like she hasn't spoken in a long time.

I feel annoyed by her words, "You've barely spoken to us. How would you know if I'm angry?" I kick a quarter across the room, "If I'm angry at anything, It's him. For letting you in last night."

"You've barely spoken to me," she points out. Eyes still locked onto Rhys. "You've barely said a word because you're angry," she tells me plainly, "Just because I'm not talking doesn't mean I'm not paying attention."

Rhys stirs but stays in his dreams, alone. "He's not sad," I tell her, desperate to talk about something other than myself. "He's positive, almost too positive. I've seen him lose a lot, but he doesn't feel sorry for himself, jus' others." I'm so glad he's in his dream, unable to hear me.

She smirks at this, "I think you just solved it."

I feel confused.

"You're angry... not at him, but yourself," she explains. "And he's sad... not for himself, but for you." She looks at me through him, her eyes never leaving Rhys.

I think about her words as they vibrate in my head. Not sure if they make sense to me.

Rhys stirs again, this time opening his eyes. Both Emma and I are still staring at him.

"Ummm... can I help you?" he chuckles, wiping the sleep from his eyes.


We don't waste time getting ready to leave. Rhys wants to move on, and I decide he's well-rested enough to travel. The three of us leave the gas station, letting the bell ring us out for the last time.

"You're still welcome to come with us, y'know," Rhys offers one last time, looking hopeful as we walk down the dirt track.

"I know," she tells him. "But I've got people heading to Richmond, gotta find them."

Rhys and I nod, both conceding her motives.

"I'll warn you again. Don't follow the road in that direction." She points down the split drive.

"We have too," Rhys tells her. "Our people made it out. That's the way they would have gone."

We stand on the road, all nodding, understanding the importance of the people you know. We say our farewells, and she leaves, heading off in the direction we came from towards the car with a now tightly shut trunk. I guess Carl must have closed it when he searched the silver car yesterday.

We watch her leave towards the smoke.


It feels like hours pass us by as we make our way forward.

Rhys can walk without me now, but I stay firmly under his arm anyway. He cracks jokes, and I laugh at him more than the jokes.

At some point, he asks me for his spear, which he uses to support himself as he goes to pee. I sit on the roadside, trying not to hear him pee behind a tree.

"You know what I miss?" Rhys asks me.

"Don't talk to me while you're peeing."

He ignores me.

He goes on, "I miss music."

"Uh-huh."

"I do!"

"Then sing something for me."

"I thought you didn't want me to-"

"Just do it, dude."

And he does. I don't recognize the song, but the lyrics make me feel relaxed as I look up at the passing clouds.

"When the morning broke and the sky fell down,"

"It went black as night and the wind blew round,"

"And stole your directions, you lost your way home,"

"And you felt like a passenger left by the road,"

"But I'll tell you the reason you couldn't get home,"

"Cause there's nowhere you've been,"

"And it's nowhere you're going,"

"Home is only a feeling you get in your mind,"

"From the people you love and you travel beside."

I don't notice when he stops and sits beside me, we hold hands, and it's not gross. We sit and watch the sun finish rising. Rhys tells me we need to keep moving, so we do.

One step at a time.


A/N-

Song credits to: Fuel Up -by Stornoway

Some of you with eagle eyes may have spotted Daryl and Beth hiding somewhere in this chapter.

Reviews and feedback are appreciated.

:)