Chapter Text
Before, Carl had plenty of friends. At school, he had a group of kids to play with and a smaller group of boys to roughhouse and have sleepovers with, but he never had someone like Shane - a best friend.
Now, he had Beth, Sophia, and Bo, and all three were very different from the friends he had Before.
First of all, Beth was pretty, in a way that was slowly starting to matter to Carl. She made him blush and stutter when they first met with her sunny personality and bright eyes. Now that they've spent months together without showers, deodorant, or enough food, she didn't have quite the same affect on him, but he still found himself blushing when she gave him a compliment.
Sophia was okay, in terms of prettiness, but was more like his close group of friends, now that her dad died and her meekness fell away. Bolder, she no longer had a problem fighting with Carl and Bo or ganging up with one against the other.
Finally, Bo was becoming something close to what his dad had with Shane, Before. That is, before the gunshot, before the quarry, and especially before the farm.
The older boy was funny, strong, and cocky like the men in the old movies Carl's dad watched. He seemed cool and confident in every way that Carl was awkward and unsure, so Carl felt, in turns, jealous and proud.
It was thanks to Bo that Carl started to be allowed into the houses as they were clearing them. Bo had argued, complained, and straight up whined to be included in the watch rotation and to help kill walkers; Sophia insisted on helping with driving; and Carl eventually got to do more than help Hershel keep an eye out at the doors. Daryl found him a silencer for his gun, but he was still under strict instructions not to use it unless necessary.
"Carl," his dad called him over while they cased a general store in a tiny town. "I want you to go with me around front. Daryl, take the back."
Maggie, Glenn, and T-Dog were at a house down the road while Merle and Bo were hunting in the nearby woods; Carl's mom and everyone else were gathering edibles and scavenging from their base at the town bank. If anything went wrong, they had a plan to meet in the next town.
His dad didn't like splitting them into so many little groups, but the chill of late winter still nipped at them and they hadn't found much food recently. Sophia managed to find some vitamins for the baby, but Carl could see the way his mom's shoulders were thin and her stomach grotesquely poked out like a walker over a fresh kill.
"I'll go in first, you wait behind me and keep an eye on the doors so we don't get ambushed," Dad whispered.
Carl nodded seriously and checked to make sure he had his silenced handgun and iron fire poker.
"Don't stab," Bo had told him when he handed Carl the weapon a week ago. "If'n it gets stuck you're fucked; so slash, don't stab."
His dad eased open the door and crept inside with Carl on his heels.
The store was dark, aside from the weak winter sun coming through the windows. The shelves, already ransacked, were bare of anything useful, but Carl noted the books and magazines scattered about to bring back to Sophia.
Rick held up a fist to tell Carl to stay put, then prowled further in until he was by the counter. He knocked his crowbar against the register and made three ringing clanks, then silence.
They listened hard for groans or shuffling steps, but nothing happened.
After a minute of waiting, Dad loosened his fist and Carl obediently crept up until he was just behind him again.
Rick ducked into the backroom and Carl crouched by the door with his weapons ready.
"Find anything?"
Carl whipped around and swung his fire poker, sharp end first.
Daryl neatly stepped out of the way with a snort. "Good arm."
"Nothing yet," his dad said, emerging from the dark room.
Daryl hummed. "Looks like it already got hit. Might be some smokes behind the coun'er though."
"On the bright side, no walkers either," his dad said with a lopsided smile.
At that, they broke apart and gathered what they could. Daryl filled his pockets with whatever tobacco was left, Dad ducked back into the room, and Carl made a beeline to the novels he saw before.
He browsed through with a critical eye. They didn't have room for piles of books, but it was nice to hear Sophia read to them at night.
Crouching down, he was comparing two adventure books behind a rack when the door opened again.
Instinctively, Carl slowed his breathing and eased the gun back into his hand. Behind the register, Daryl turned with his bow already raised.
"Easy!" someone said, from the door.
"It's picked through, boys. Nothing left," his dad's easy drawl came from the doorway.
Carl could see him and Daryl, but not the door. Carl cursed himself for forgetting his only job.
"Didn't mean nothing," the voice from the front of the store came again. "Just let us leave and we'll be on our way."
"Course," Rick said. "Is it just you two out here?"
"Got a few more at a camp, but we're just passing through."
"Don't want any trouble," a second voice added.
His dad flicked the barrel of his gun toward the door. "Head on out and we'll stay out of each other's way. We're moving on tomorrow then y'all're welcome to the town."
"No problem," the first voice said.
"Y'all stay safe," the second voice, then the door opened again and Carl saw his dad deflate.
"Stay there, Carl. Good job staying quiet," Dad whispered.
Daryl vaulted the counter and snuck to the door. "They're leavin', hoofin' it West."
"Let's get the others, we move tonight."
Carl grabbed the three books that looked the most interesting, then followed them out.
"Thank you," Sophia said when he showed her the books. She tucked two into her backpack and Bo took the third. Sophia handed an older one to Carl to hold onto.
Since the farm, they made sure they had their things spread evenly between their bags: a couple cans of food, water bottles, notebook and pens, books, some socks, and whatever little survival supplies they could fit.
They were in the back seat of Maggie's car while Glenn was driving; Merle was in the passenger seat napping.
"Did'ja get any?" Bo asked from the middle seat, tugging things around to rearrange in his bag.
"No, but I almost got Daryl," Carl giggled.
Sophia frowned at him. "That's not funny, we don't have enough medicine to get hurt right now."
"Don't worry, he wouldn't be able to hurt Uncle Daryl," Bo teased, poking Carl in the side with his elbow.
"There was a walker outside of the bank, but Maggie killed it with her bat." Sophia steered the conversation.
Bo turned more to face her and nodded. "You two ought'a be more like Maggie, learn to shoot 'n kill em close up too."
"I can shoot!" Carl's voice broke embarrassingly.
Bo just snorted at him.
A few days later they found a little neighborhood. Slowly, they were shuffling from house to house and taking what they could. Carl was getting more confident, but still hadn't had to kill a walker.
Bo and Merle were helping Carl and his dad clear a house and it was almost eerie seeing his friend's shadowed shape slink by soundlessly. They were upstairs, something Carl only knew from the occasional dull thud of walkers dropping to Bo's crossbow or Merle's bayonet.
"Don't go in that second room," Bo called, casually strolling down the stairs and wiping blood from his hands. He wore fresh clothes. "Had a bloater explode when I shot it."
"Gross," Carl wrinkled his nose at the idea.
"Walls're sturdy enough for the night," he said, shifting his focus to somewhere past Carl's shoulder.
"We can use it as a base, but we still have a few hours of daylight." Rick's voice came from behind him.
"Me and Carl can check the snares," Bo offered.
Carl turned to see his dad's face. Rick tilted his head and considered them for a moment. "Alright, but tell your father and stay close."
"No further'n whistlin' distance, half pint." Merle ducked his head to glare at them from the stairwell, then stomped back up the stairs.
The snares they made were crude compared to the sleek ones Bo and his family made at the quarry, but their supplies were dwindling and they didn't often have time to dismantle them before they had to run to the next location.
Still, they worked and could bring in a rabbit or two a week so Carl couldn't complain.
"You get to kill one yet?" his friend asked, leading Carl through the damp forest floor.
"A rabbit?"
"No, dumbass," he flipped Carl off over his shoulder, "a dead one."
Carl shook his head, then realized Bo wouldn't be able to see. "No, not yet."
Bo glanced back at him and hummed, but kept moving.
Their snares were empty, but a few had to be reset. Carl knelt to do it while Bo split his attention between keeping watch and gently kicking Carl's hip when he messed up.
They gathered pretty early that night and the kids were free to entertain themselves while Daryl and Maggie made dinner of a hunk of cured venison they found in a shed and some canned vegetables. Merle and Daryl swore it was safe to eat, but Carl's mom looked a little green when they brought it up.
Bo cut his eyes to the stairs and casually broke away. Carl locked eyes with Sophia and they both waited a few minutes before they followed him as subtly as they could.
"Found somethin'," he whispered when they reached him.
"The walker that blew up?" Carl asked. Beside him, Sophia blanched in disgust.
"Didn't blow up." Bo crept down the hallway and left Carl and Sophia to follow him. At the second door, Bo gently eased it open and slipped in.
Carl and Sophia gasped when they saw what awaited them.
A walker was tied to the bed, its wrists bound to the headboard and it picked its head up lazily. A second walker was on the ground, half dismantled like a broken doll.
Neither of the walkers made any noise beside a quiet gasping when they worked their loose jaws. Carl's eyes traveled down and he saw fresh punctures in their chests, letting the air in their lungs hiss out and keeping them from growling like normal.
Sophia gagged behind him, but then got her breathing under control and took deep breaths through her mouth like Bo taught them.
"What happened?" Carl hardly dared to whisper the words.
"Y'all need practice," Bo said simply.
Carl took an unsteady step forward and looked closer at the walker on the ground. It was a woman and she wore practical, thick jeans, a coat, and hiking boots; she must have turned recently. She was surrounded by empty pill bottles.
Her arms were disconnected at the elbows and Bo must have tried to take her legs before giving up and cutting into her spine. There were deep gashes on the backs of her thighs and a stab between her shoulders. She hissed at them and moved her arms like she was swimming.
The walker on the bed had his guts spilled out on the mattress, his friend must have started on him after she turned. Judging from the stains on the sheets, he had died and turned there. Carl could picture the woman tying him up after he was bit.
Besides that and the knife stabs to his lungs, the man looked more untouched, eerily fresh and almost human. Carl had to look away.
"Which one you want?" Bo asked, loaded crossbow already up to cover them.
"I'll put the woman down," Sophia said softly. "It'd be cruel to leave her like this." She pulled out her knife, the one hanging from the pretty belt she picked out, and took a step forward.
Another step and she was even with the disembodied hands on the ground.
One more and she was straddling one of the moving arms.
She took a deep breath, then lunged down with all her strength, shoving her knife through the walkers temple and then thudding into the floor.
"Shit," Bo cursed, "hurry up 'fore they come see what that was."
Sophia stayed crouched over hers and was trembling, but there wasn't time to comfort her.
Carl hurried to the bed and raised his fire poker, ready to stab it down with his weight.
"Don't stab, smash."
Carl adjusted his grip.
"The fuck're you doing?!" "Carl!" "Get away from it!" The adults slammed through the door, but Carl was already swinging.
Two fast hits, then the fire poker was ripped out of his hands.
The walker stopped hissing.
Carl turned around and saw his dad, confusion and fury in equal measure written across his face. Behind him were Merle, Maggie, and his mom.
"Carl!" Mom sobbed, clutching her stomach.
"You said it was clear!" Merle roared at Bo.
Maggie fell to her knees next to Sophia, but she shook off the comfort and stood up.
Bo squared his shoulders and took a deep breath to holler back at his dad, but Sophia beat him to it.
"He kept us safe!" she said, firm and tall and nearly toe to toe with Merle.
He towered above her, broad and red with rage. Carl pictured what his big fists could do to Sophia, but Merle just pivoted and planted his fist in the wall behind them.
Carl backed away from his dad until he stood next to Sophia, defiant.
Dad scrubbed his hand through his hair and took a few breaths to calm down. "You can't- don't lie to us about this. Don't - You could have died! All three of you!"
"Now they know," Bo said simply, slinging his bow back behind him and calmly shouldering his way through the door.
Carl and Sophia followed, heads held high without a backward glance.
A few hours later, Dad gathered everyone downstairs. "You want to be treated like adults? Fine. But that means no more lying, no more extra rations, and you'll do your fair share of watches." Behind him, Mom looked sick.
"There's a couple of herds on our heels, coming from two different directions. We've exhausted every town in this area. If we don't find something soon, we might have to leave Georgia." He took a deep breath. "We've been doing our best to keep you from worrying, but that's not realistic now. We're out of options."
Bo stood slightly in front of Carl and Sophia, square in front of Carl's dad. He nodded decisively.
"The herds are close, so we need to clear houses quickly. You can use your gun, but make sure the silencer is on and only when you need to. Are you up for it?"
Carl and Sophia nodded, emboldened by the day.
That night, Carl had second watch with Glenn and Sophia had third with Rick, his dad making good on his promise to treat them like adults.
Bo, in his own form of punishment, wasn't allowed on watch and had to sleep beside his angry father and uncle with their stoney silence.
They were clearing the last houses in the neighborhood and Carl was allowed to use his gun; they were moving that night regardless. Carl squared his shoulders and tried to look braver than he felt. He could do this.
Rick, T-Dog, Daryl, Bo, and Carl were sent in first and they cleared the walkers quickly. Bo and Daryl were swift shadows while T-Dog barreled through like a battering ram and Carl and his dad used their guns. It was loud, messy, and effective, nothing like their methodical searches that fall.
The house they chose was already ransacked, but their supply of canned foods and crackers had long since ran out and the hunger gnawed at them relentlessly. Carl's stomach growled while he tossed the kitchen for anything useful, but only found a couple cans of dog food sitting on a lonely shelf. For a second he wavered, but then he thought of his baby brother or sister, of his mom's narrow shoulders and thin face. He took the cans.
Back in the living room, everyone had gathered and were sharing quiet looks. They were alive, but there wasn't much more comfort to be found and the hopelessness weighed on their shoulders like a physical thing.
Carl sighed and started on opening the dog food.
Dad looked down on him, haunted and weary, and snatched them out of his hand. His mouth was turned down in disgust and hopelessness.
Before he could throw them out, Bo was at Rick's shoulder and took the cans back, stabbing his knife through the top and using his dirty fingers to fish out the slop. His friend slurped up a few bites and passed it to Sophia, keeping his eyes on Rick's as if daring him to say something.
Mom's eyes followed them hungrily, but an old world pride kept her chin high and she waved Sophia away when she offered the can. Beth and Carol followed suit, but Merle, Daryl, T-Dog, and Carl each ate a portion. It was slimy and didn't taste anything like it smelled, but it settled the growling in his stomach.
Daryl waved an owl at the ones who refused, silently offering to share, but then T-Dog pointed out the window at the converging walkers and they were on the run again.
Sophia drove for a while in silence, Carl and Bo leaning on each other in the back seat. They were silent, the weather was finally warming up, but the prey was still scarce and they hadn't been able to stay still long enough to set snares. Bo's sharp shoulder dug into Carl's chest, but he didn't have the energy to shove him away.
Eventually, his dad waved a hand out the window of the lead car and the whole caravan pulled over by a creek. Merle sent them off with a wave to fill their containers with water while Carl's dad, Daryl, Merle, T-Dog and Hershel gathered around a map.
Carl took first watch on the banks while Bo filled and Sophia, his mom, and Maggie washed themselves quickly. He kept his head swiveling and his gun up.
They switched off and Sophia took his place, her wet hair dripping on her relatively clean shirt. Carl hurried to the creek and scrubbed himself with a rag to get a layer of grime off while he could. They had run out of soap a long, long time ago, but it still felt nice to dunk his head in the frigid water.
Glancing around, his dad and Daryl were off on their own, but Merle and Hershel looked unconcerned, so Carl shrugged it off and dried himself with the least stained corner of his dirty clothes.
Carl switched places with Bo, letting his friend take a turn in the water while he hauled the containers back to the cars.
"Come here, Carl," his mom called, "I should trim your hair."
He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to complain, but he remembered Shane's words - "That day comes, you'll be wishing for one of your mama's haircuts."
With a bolt of nostalgia for the quarry, Carl felt his shoulders slumping. "Yeah, sure mom."
Bo and T-Dog finished loading up and Glenn, Beth, and Sophia started on the laundry while Carl took his place leaning back on his mom.
Mom's fingernails felt heavenly when they scratched gently at his scalp and he felt younger than he had in months. She was sitting in the front seat of the car and Sophia found a log to roll up for Carl to sit on so he was at the right height.
Miraculously, she still had the same scissors from the quarry, still sharp because she made sure to dry them off before putting them away. They had lost the comb in one of their frantic moves, but Carl figured it didn't matter much since he didn't have anyone to impress.
The shh-ick of the sheers were rhythmic and he could hear Sophia behind him hacking away at Bo's hair with much less finesse.
Maggie and Merle were quietly bickering on watch and the gentle fingers combined with the sounds of family around him lulled Carl nearly to sleep.
In a bare doze, Carl saw flashes of a cherubic face, part his dad, part his mom, with big brown eyes and a sweet giggle. He saw a farm without walkers, his mom without the bones of her arms showing, his dad smiling again. He saw his friends growing older and acting younger, feasts of meat and fresh vegetables, safety and prosperity.
Crashing in the woods beside them had Carl jolt upwards and nearly caused Mom to stab him with the sheers.
Dad came around the corner with a frantic gleam in his eyes. "We found something!"