C A R L

     “Look–if it’s obvious someone’s still living here we’ll just leave, but…I haven’t seen any fires or anything in the distance for days. I’m sure it’s been abandoned for some reason or another, which means…stuff could have been left behind. It’s worth the risk.”

     Life outside of the safe walls of home was weird and rough, more difficult than Steve could have ever imagined, but he was trying his absolute best. While he knew he didn’t have the same experience as Carl, he also knew that he wasn’t useless, knew he could fight if he had to and had decent survival instincts–instincts that had been cultivated fast, growing every day. They hadn’t been together that long, but already Steve felt more capable, more grounded than he had felt in ages. Maybe it was the thought that death lurked around every corner that kept him sharp, but he felt like he was finally in control of something. His life was in his own hands, and he meant to see an end to the death and despair that had followed him for the last several weeks.

     In small numbers Walkers were easy; at first they had scared Steve shitless, and the first time he had killed one had been more of an accident than anything else. But he didn’t run from a fight, not when he could win, not when he needed to win, and he had learned to protect himself fairly quickly. He understood when to be quiet and when to be risky, when to engage and when to sneak. The biggest problem, he felt, came from a lack of shelter and food. There were only two of them now and it wasn’t easy to protect their own camps. Not only did the undead and wild animals pose a threat, but human beings had turned out to be the worst of all of them. They had to always be on guard.

     And it was exhausting.

    One night, while looking for supplies, Steve had spotted a cabin in the distance. Being alone he hadn’t wanted to risk it, but now in broad daylight it felt like a viable option. It was time for them to move on anyway, and they didn’t exactly have much left to eat. Hunting was practically foreign for Steve, and fishing wasn’t exactly much better. If they could find even a little bit of food somewhere to get them through until they found a bigger settlement then it would be an honest to god miracle.

     “Seriously–this place looks like it’s been empty forever. The windows are all broken and boarded up, and the wood’s half-rotten. We’d be lucky to even find–”

     But whatever they would be lucky to find was lost, a startled shout slipping out of him as something tightened around his ankle, jerking him straight off his feet. The bat in his hand clattered to the ground as he was forcefully pulled into the air, his world turning suddenly upside down, and it was only when the pounding of his heart began to subside that he realized he had walked straight into some kind of trap. A snare, probably for animals–but maybe not. Maybe it had caught exactly what it had been meant for: trapping blundering idiots such as himself.

     “Jesus–fuck! Cut me down! Holy shit, what the fuck is going on…?!”

@steadyfire​ @bitterbadge​

     Steve was right. They’d been struggling to find different areas to raid and find food, so whatever they came across was worth checking out. That included the boarded up cabin in the woods they’d just stumbled across. It was risky with just the two of them, since there was always a chance of being outnumbered by a group of people who’d already claimed this place as their own. There was little to no room for errors in this cruel and unforgiving world. One mistake could easily be one’s last, and Carl no longer had the protection from his dad or Daryl or anyone else from the group that had become a family. They were gone.

     Despite Steve being protected behind walls since the beginning of the outbreak (much like the Alexandrian’s), Carl thought he was proving himself to be a pretty good ally. In fact, he was able to hold his own better than a lot of the inexperienced survivors at Alexandria, who he had also helped teach how to aim a gun, how to use a knife, and where to target the walkers. Where improvement was needed or knowledge seemed to be lacking, Carl would speak up to give Steve tips or advice. Was it fool-proof? No, but it was things he had learned during his years of fighting off the dead. He had to be doing something right to survive outside of Alexandria for as long as he had.

     From the trees, Carl studied the seemingly empty cabin carefully. Apart from the occasional rustling of the leaves in the wind, it was silent. Perhaps, though, that would change once they entered the cabin. The dead were at their loudest when in pursuit of something--or rather, someone. “It might be empty, but...It’s at least worth checking out.” If anything, it would be a place to rest for a while and provide shelter. Slow and cautious steps began to carry Carl forward while Steve continued to speak behind him. If this place was in use by someone, they would have to be careful and watch their step. He still remembered some years ago when he came across Morgan’s territory with Michonne and Rick. There’d been a lot of dangerous traps set up.

     Upon hearing a sudden yelp behind him, Carl immediately drew his gun and turned around, finger on the trigger and prepared to shoot at whatever threat presented itself. He would only fire if absolutely necessary, since it was always a risk to use a gun without a silencer. It was a loud weapon and could be especially dangerous in the woods, attracting walkers from all directions. What he saw when he turned around, however, wasn’t a walker or a person. Instead, he saw Steve hanging upside down with a rope fastened tightly around his ankle. He was okay, much to Carl’s relief, but for how long? If there were traps set up around here, then it was likely that somebody was staying here and there was no telling when they’d be back. Maybe they were even still in the house.

     “Calm down before somebody hears you,” Carl attempted to hush Steve, his head turning to look back at the cabin in hopes that nobody was emerging from the door. There was nothing, so he quickly holstered his gun and instead took out his knife. “You’re just stuck in a trap. Hold on, I’ll cut you down.” His gaze followed the rope from Steve’s ankle all the way down to where it was set up. There, he knelt down on his knees and began sawing the sharp blade against the material.

     If he hadn’t run into Carl that day in the woods Steve was positive he would have died.

     When the outbreak initially hit home, Steve had been ten years old. At first he hadn’t understood exactly what was going on, sticking close to his mother’s side and clinging to the hope that the government would solve everything and set things straight. The town had gone into lockdown, setting up barriers and creating strict rules. For a while everything worked out fine; the police did their job as best they could, enforcing the laws and keeping order. Able-bodied civilians provided aid, and while it wasn’t perfect the town was able to sustain itself for years. But then one day things began to slip.

    The restrictions grew tighter, more survival-based than concerned with quality of life. Fights broke out between those who had been left in charge and those who thought they could run things better. Steve’s own father had found himself in a position of leadership, one of several in an attempt to keep things fair. Of course, nothing really was fair, and Steve quickly learned that his family was skimming necessary supplies, leaving less fortunate households with little to their names. The small town, easily halved by initial attacks, grew ever smaller. Life inside the walls became unbearable, and when Steve was eighteen conflicts came to a head.

    After a particularly nasty fight a small rebel group stole supplies from their collective cache and attempted to escape, leaving the gates wide open as they ran. Not only were they killed by the constant waves of Walkers just outside the walls, but those same Walkers made their way into the town in the middle of the night. The watch wasn’t enough to rouse the citizens in time, and Steve woke to the sound of screaming outside his house. Grabbing the baseball bat by the side of his bed, Steve prepared himself to fight, only to make it downstairs in time to witness his mother being brutally torn apart by a group of the undead, still alive–screaming. A hand shot out from somewhere behind him, wrapping around his arm, pulling him from the house and into the woods behind his house. Somewhere in the corner of his mind he recognized his father’s voice, guilt eating away through the numbness, the image of his terrified mother burned into his mind. Could he have helped her? Eased her suffering at least? 

    This had to be a nightmare. 

    It wasn’t until they had stopped, reconnected with a group of survivors that Steve saw the bite. His father’s arm was bleeding profusely, and while he insisted that he was fine they all knew what was coming. He panicked, drawing a gun Steve had never seen before, threatening anyone who came close. When he started to drag Steve away into the woods it was the chief of police who drew his own piece, threatening to fire, angry words firing back and forth until there was a series of gunshots. Steve remembered hearing a scream, remembered warmth splashing over him, remembered his father falling at his feet, dead before he even hit the ground. And after that he stopped functioning, allowing himself to be lead away, taken in by a group of people he barely knew. A group that would shortly become his new family, that would teach him to survive. It was little wonder that Steve found himself more or less adrift when another attack separated them, leaving him lost in a world he had almost no experience with.

@steadyfire @bitterbadge​

     Though the dead coming back to life posed a very real threat, there was something else Carl had learned over his years of surviving: the living was a threat, too. Humans had turned against one another, stealing and killing and engaging in selfish acts to ensure their own survival. It became harder and harder to trust other parties, but Carl liked to try to give people chances where possible. Not everyone was bad, and he knew that there would be no chance of rebuilding the world if nobody gave anyone chances to prove themselves as trustworthy allies. They’d had something good going in Alexandria, but that had come to a screeching halt.

     Now, Carl found himself alone. The community had been overrun and many were slaughtered, including his father. It’d gutted him to find Rick laying lifeless on the ground with a pool of blood around him, his eyes lifeless and skin pale. Just like he’d done with his mother, he’d ended it for good to ensure he didn’t befall the fate of coming back as a walker. There was no chance for a proper burial and no time for a proper goodbye, as he’d had to evacuate the area promptly before he, too, ended up dead. It was with a heavy heart that he turned his back on Alexandria and those who had fallen inside the walls, but there was nothing left of it. Just like the prison and the farm, it had met its end.

     As for Michonne and his little sister, Judith? Carl didn’t know what became of them, but he hoped that they were safe together somewhere. He thought that maybe, if he was lucky, he would come across subtle signs left for him to follow them. But after months of wandering and being on his own, he found nothing--until one day, he came across a boy around the same age as him. Seventeen, eighteen at most, struggling to survive an attack. He’d been quick to impulsively jump in and help, something his father had often scolded him for on numerous occasions.

     If he hadn’t been there to help, it was likely that Steve (he had soon discovered that was his name) would have died a gruesome, painful death. He didn’t seem too well equipped to survive, reminding Carl a bit of the naive Alexandrian’s who had lived their lives behind walls and hadn’t bothered learning how to defend themselves. Since then, the two had agreed to help each other and had began traveling together. Though it wasn’t without any precautions, of course. It was never easy to trust newcomers.

Tate rolled his eyes ,  “ yeah , yeah . I heard you the first time .”  He was only trying to make light of such a shitty situation ; They were alone , without proper shelter , very low on food . They weren’t even one - hundred percent sure on who made it out of the prison alive . He was nearly hopping those last few feet over to the school bus , putting little to no pressure on his injured ankle . He didn’t want to worry Carl any further than he already was , but it still ached — Not as bad as it did when he was walking on it , but it was still prominently there . 

He lowered himself to follow Carl’s lead . He yanked and yanked , and the thing seemed to be budging . It was creaking and shaking ; One last good pull that Tate threw his body weight into and the mechanism that held it shut snapped , flinging it open and sending the blond onto his back . He wasn’t bothered in any way , he actually let out a little cheer of victory — Oops , but quickly clamped a hand over his mouth .  “ Woo …”  he joked , much quieter this time around , add in some spirit fingers .  “ You go check inside . I’ll watch your back .”

With his bum foot , he’ll be nothing but a liability of there were some walkers lying in wait inside . He carefully , and awkwardly , pulled himself back to with the help of the side of the bus . It seemed this thing showed up in their path just in time , the sky was really starting to get dark now . They had been traveling so much that Tate didn’t realize how starved he felt . There was a little bit of canned goods in his backpack , but not enough to even make it through the week ; The plan wasn’t to be on their own for long , they were suppose to be with Rick and the others .

Tate unholstered his gun again , squinting out into the dark that was getting more and more prominent by the second .  “ Just be careful , okay ?? Double , triple check because I can’t imagine you can see much of anything in there , but don’t do anything to get yourself bit … We didn’t come all this way for some dumb fluke like that .”  He wasn’t about to get mushy right then and there , but Tate feared the worst right now more than ever . He didn’t think he could make it all on his own ; He needed Carl , and Carl needed him . That’s how it’d always been for them .

     Much to Carl’s relief, the consistent pulling on the door had made it come lose and fling open. Like Tate, he had also lost his balance but had quickly managed to gain it after a small stumble back. Tate, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky and had fallen right onto his back. “Whoa, are you--” he began, only pausing when the blond had let out a cheer of victory. Yeah, he was fine. Grinning a little and rolling his eyes, he turned to face the door to the bus again. Hopefully any of the dead nearby hadn’t heard the cheer, as being surrounded by walkers while in a vehicle could prove to be pretty deadly.

     “You just worry about yourself and be careful not to be taken out by any doors. I’ll be okay,” Carl assured him before stepping up onto the bus. He appreciated Tate’s concern and knew he cared, and honestly he didn’t know what to imagine Tate would do without him. If he did die, would he go completely off the rails? Would he live on and tell stories of him?

     His steps were slow and careful, his knife and gun both held just in case. He didn’t wish to fire his gun if he didn’t have to, as it was loud and would just draw more attention, but there was no telling what was on this bus. As he made his way down the center, he was cautious as to always check underneath the seats to ensure that a walker didn’t unexpectedly grab him by the ankle and bite him. “I think whoever was on this bus abandoned it when it stopped running. It doesn’t look like anyone died in here,” he spoke, though he wasn’t sure if Tate could hear him from out there. There was no smell of rot either, which further led Carl to believe that the place was safe.

Tate awkwardly wiggled the knife out from his back pocket and steadied himself with his hand against the oak’s trunk ; It was sort of comical if he thought about it too much . Him hefted up on Carl’s back and trying to balance well enough to carve their initials into a tree . It was probably a pointless endeavor , but it made him feel a little better — Made him feel like they were at least trying .  “ Okay ,”  he signaled after he’d finished ; The lines were wonky , but readable . CG & TL  was now carved deep and bold into the oak’s trunk . There wasn’t any arrow about what direction they were going , that was too dangerous , they could only hope that if somehow , someway , one of their group members came across it , they’d scour the area thoroughly .  “ Onward , my noble steed ,”  Tate grinned down at Carl and patted him firmly against the shoulder .

After about an hour of travel , Tate could tell that Carl was getting sluggish from his weight . He’d asked a few times to get set down , insisted he could walk a little more , but it was all for naught . Because they both knew it was untrue ; His leg was in pretty bad shape . Apologies just kept slipping out from between chapped lips , promises to rub Carl’s shoulders and legs and whatever else might be hurting him from having to do this . If only he’d been watching where he was going , if only , if only .

“ School bus !!”  Tate suddenly shouted , pointing off the side of the road . From the looks of it , it clearly didn’t run , but the windows seemed to be intact and there was a door and seats inside that they could take a nights refuge in . He could elevate his leg for the night and get a few hours of sleep , then hopefully he could walk again in the morning for them to find someplace better ; It wasn’t a house and it wouldn’t be the warmest , but if they huddled together , he was sure they could manage .  “ Put me down ,”  Tate instructed again .  “ C’mon , you’re going to need me to wrench that door open and I can’t help if I’m on top of you .”

Had the situation not been such a grim one--if they were carving their initials just for the hell of it, and not because their home had just been overrun, Carl would’ve probably been grinning at how goofy they must have looked. But there wasn’t much to smile about right now. Hershel’s death kept playing over and over again in his head. That man had lived through a bite and leg amputation, and that was how he’d gone out? Because some man had him at his mercy? It wasn’t fair. Even with The Governor dead, there was hardly satisfaction.

Glancing up at Tate after he’d made a comment about him being his noble steed, he shook his head (typical Tate) and carried on. He was tired after about thirty minutes. Carrying Judith was no problem. It got a bit tiring occasionally, but carrying someone else his size? That was tough, and his pace had slowed and his arms ached. After an hour, he felt about ready to collapse. His legs were tired and he was running out of breath, his hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat.

Luckily, Tate had been first to spot the school bus up ahead. A resting point, finally. It was no house, but it was a temporary shelter at least. It was probably safest to hole up there for the night and continue on in the morning, since he didn’t want to risk traveling in the dark and he couldn’t carry Tate for too much longer. He was exhausted. “Don’t put any more weight on it than you have to,” Carl said as he lowered himself down to allow Tate’s feet to touch the ground. He then approached the school bus and peered inside. It looked empty, but it was possible there were walkers laying down so they’d have to be careful.

“ I’m ready ,”  Tate assured .  “ Eyes and ears are open .”  For walkers and for the remaining survivors from the prison ; It was actually quite eerie — How alone they were . There were no bus tracks or foot prints . It was clear that they were the first people in a very long time to take this trail , but he didn’t voice his concerns . They needed shelter more than anything else , then they could put their heads together and come up with a plan .  “ Do you think we should start making marks , or something ?? Maybe on the trees ,”  he suggested .  “ Maybe something as simple as — CG and TL ?? Vague enough that strangers probably won’t look twice at it , but if it were your dad or Daryl , they’d know our initials . They’ll know we passed through here .”

Fuck , they should have come up with a place to meet up just in case something like this ever happened ; He understood why they didn’t . Who would have ever guessed that a whole ‘nother community would attack them with a fucking tank . Rick had come up with an escape plan , but it turned out to be much easier said than done — And this was all under the assumption that Rick made it out of their alive . No , no , Tate needed to push that thought from his head , of course he made it out of there . So did Daryl . So did all the others .

The blond squeezed his eyes shut , readjusting his arms that were clung around Carl’s shoulders .  “ I have a knife ,”  he pointed out .  “ Here . Drop me down really quick , I’m going to mark this oak right here .”  It was huge and right by the road ; Maybe it was a long shot to imagine anyone noticing a carving , but something was better than nothing .  “ We’ll do this every few miles or something … I mean , I hope we don’t have more miles to go , but we should probably start covering our asses sooner rather than later , you know ??”

Simple signs to leave was probably a good idea. There was no telling if anyone else would come across them, but there was always that slim chance that they would. The area looked deserted. It was quiet and not even walkers were roaming the area, which proved to be more unsettling than peaceful. At least he didn’t have to run while carrying Tate on his back. That much he was thankful for. “Yeah. Nothing too obvious. CG and TL will probably work.” After adjusting his hold on Tate a little, his footsteps slowed after a tree had been pointed out to him. He was hesitant with going along with the idea of letting him back on his feet.

“I’ll carve the tree. It’s gonna be exhausting if I have to keep picking you back up.” He’d rather just endure carrying Tate for as long as he could and hope that the carving wouldn’t take too long. “Or you can reach from here,” Carl then added after approaching the tree and turning a little to allow Tate better access to the tree. “If it takes too long, then I’ll put you down for whatever we mark next.”

Maybe he should stop talking ; Dwight was always telling him he talked way too much . Tate hesitated , unsure if he should lie and agree with Negan for the sake of unity , or admit the truth . He figured either way , someone wouldn’t be very happy with him .  “ Not exactly ,”  he shrugged .  “ I get that he was trying to make an example out of your friend — I mean , your people killed our people first … But I know we were trying to steal from you . Negan calls it supply runs like I’m stupid , but I know what he’s doing .”  He’s bullying smaller , less well - armed groups into doing all of the dirty work for him . It worked out so far , but Tate could never keep himself from thinking about what damage they were causing in those other communities .  “ He’s just trying to take care of us , you know ?? His heart is in the right place , believe it or not . But I don’t like that he hurts other people in the process of doing it . I think there’s a better way of going about things .”

A more peaceful way with less bloodshed . God knows they see enough of that shit with the dead up and walking outside their factory gates . Tate’s last card was flipped over and his empty hands shot up on either side of his head ,  “ Speed !! I win !!”  The blond wiggled his fingers in amusement .  “ You almost had me , though ,”  he pointed towards the remainder of Carl’s cards .  “ Play again ?? I’d suggest we bet something this time but uh , you don’t really have anything on you , do you ?? The other guys will sometimes play for food or points — Or cigarettes in my case .”  Since he was spared from having to use the point system .  “ You don’t have any cigarettes on you , do you ??”

To Carl’s surprise, Tate was actually pretty open on answering his question. It wasn’t a direct answer and he kind of beat around the bush a bit, but what it came down to was that he seemed to know that Negan wasn’t in the right. Yeah, they’d killed their people first, but the way Negan went about getting his revenge was cruel and twisted and his people had deserved to be killed for trying to steal from them. It was nice to hear that at least someone in the Sanctuary disagreed with Negan hurting people and thought there was a better way of doing things. He had to wonder then, who else agreed but was too afraid to speak their mind?

Carl had thought that he’d reached his end. Too soon for his liking, as he still had so much he wanted to do (including watching Judith grow up and helping her learn to fight, and helping his dad build the new world he envisioned) but he was wrong. Whatever bite he’d received hadn’t been one from a walker, but instead someone who had been wearing a walker mask (which was still unknown to him, and he was left extremely confused over the matter) It had merely gotten infected due to lack of proper care to it, and thus it had brought on a fever and similar symptoms to a walker bite.

It was when the symptoms started to fade that Carl began to wonder and rethink. Did he still need those letters he’d written up for everyone? Could he, perhaps, be so lucky as to have another chance and put off saying his goodbyes? It was hard to say, because he didn’t know what different stages of a bite felt like. All he knew was they’d survived the night and lived to see another day. Finally, he made the decision to approach his father about the subject, but there was a lengthy pause before he actually began speaking. “Something happened the other day. Something that...I thought would kill me. But I’m here, and I think I’m okay,” Carl explained carefully. “I know this won’t be easy to see, but it’s healing. See for yourself.” And with that said, he carefully peeled back the bandage that covered his side to reveal the angry, red bite mark by his ribs. But part of it looked to be healing. It was minimal since it was still a fairly fresh wound, but it looked a little different compared to other bites he’d seen.