» Time Is Dancing « | » Carl Grimes «

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Amateur Escape Artist

I held Glenn's hand in mine as Rick spoke, my head hanging low to avoid the tearful eyes of the group. Dale's funeral was something I never expected to happen in a million. He always seemed so-

"-brave. Whenever I'd make a decision, I'd look at Dale. He'd be looking back at me with that look he had. We've all seen it one time or another. I couldn't always read him, but he could always read us." Rick really knew how to make a speech.

I was so dreading this funeral today, it was hard for all of us. But I left feeling inspired, wanting to be the kind of person Dale would be proud of. I hoped that's what we all wanted.

Hershel had finally agreed to let us move into the house, much to my surprise. After what happened with Dale, and winter creeping closer, we would all end up dead in our little camp one way or another.

I didn't have a lot to pack up in the cluttered tent, just a sleeping bag and a few clothes scattered around my half. The most important things were tucked safely into my pillow- Sophia's doll and Beth's book. I couldn't afford to lose those.

Glenn came in and silently started stuffing clothes into his bag, opting to stay quiet today. He usually had so much to say, but I guess Dale's death would change that.

I knew Rick had been changed, too. He saw the errors in ways before and decided the best thing to do was to let Randall go, far away from here like they originally planned. Part of me was glad he wasn't going to kill him, even if there was a small inkling of fear knowing he could reunite with his group and lead them to the farm. It was a chance we had to take, for Dale.

I tossed my bag into the corner of Beth's room, flipping the buckles open and rummaging inside. She was letting me stay in there for a while, seeing as the house would be so packed and there was enough room for the both of us. Besides, I liked spending time with her.

I put the doll on the bed and smiled softly, watching the brown threads of hair fan out on the fresh white pillow.

I made my way over to the stairs in search of the girl, walking past Hershel's bedroom when something inside caught my attention.

"You staying in here?" I asked, rounding the doorframe curiously. It was a room I hadn't been in before, but it seemed to represent everything about the man. The patterned picture frames encasing photos of his family, the neat row of hooks holding various coats and ties, the display of certificates dotted on the cream walls.

Carl perked up at my voice, zipping up the bag as he finished unpacking. "Hershel said my Mom could stay in here, with the baby and all." He answered, his fingers absentmindedly tugging at a thread sticking out from the nearest T-shirt. "Can I tell you something?"

His voice was so nervous it concerned me as I crossed the room, sitting beside him on the bed. His hands clenched into fists as he worked up the courage, his eyes sad and distant. "Dale...It's my fault that Dale died-"

"No, it's not. He was killed by a walker, Carl." I cut him off sternly.

Carl's gaze met the floor as he shrugged. "But I saw it. I took a gun from Daryl's bike and I was gonna shoot it, but I didn't. I was stupid and I ran away and then it killed Dale." He stumbled out, his words so quiet I almost couldn't hear them. I could see the regret weighing on his mind in the crease between his eyebrows.

"Carl..." I started, my hand on his shoulder in a weak effort to comfort him. There was a small part of me that realised if it wasn't for Carl, then Dale would still be alive, but I didn't blame him in any way. Accidents happened, and sometimes they had disastrous results. "You don't need to feel guilty about what happened."

"I do," He sighed, pulling a small pistol from his pocket, "And now my Dad gave me this gun and it's just made things worse. He says he's proud of me. He's wrong about me."

"He's right, Carl. What happened with Dale is not your fault, but the way that you're taking the blame and you're brave enough to admit it makes you the person your Dad sees." I urged, my lips pressed together to stop them trembling. My heart ached for Dale and his tragic death, but not a single part of me blamed it on Carl. It was just one of the circumstances of living in this world.

"Rick!" We heard the yell from outside, the fury practically shaking the windows in their frames.

Once we rejoined with the group, I got a closer look at the barn they surrounded. Nothing, not even the boy we kept prisoner, was in there.

"Rick!" It was Shane, emerging from the woods with blood covering his face and a scowl deep enough to cause a ridge between his eyebrows.

"What happened?" Lori called worriedly, taking note of the severity of his injury.

Shane ran a frustrated hand over his head, blood smearing everywhere. "He's armed. He's got my gun!" He shouted, his glare set on the empty barn.

Shane came over to group, his anger evident. He claimed that Randall had snuck up on him and punched him, taking his gun before sneaking into the woods.

Rick, trying to keep us calm. told everyone to get back in the house except for Glenn and Daryl, who he asked to go with him.

"Wait, Glenn!" I called, seeing him loading a gun. I wrapped my arms around him, fearing the worst. If Randall managed to sneak up on Shane, I couldn't imagine how dangerous he was now with a weapon.

Daryl was nearby placing an arrow in his crossbow, his concerned stare flitting up to us briefly. He paused for a moment when he saw me approaching, giving me time to embrace him next. He patted my head awkwardly, unsure what to do when receiving real affection. I had to admit, I was worried about him, too.

"Keep each other safe." I told him sternly, waiting for his reluctant promise before retreating back to the house.

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It was dark now, the sun setting countless hours ago. They had been gone for a long time and I couldn't the nervous biting of my nails, the bouncing of my knee every time I sat down.

I was downstairs, helping Maggie cover the couch with a sheet for someone to sleep on. We weren't sure how long we would be waiting, and none of us felt safe being apart.

"You don't need to be worried about them, sweetheart." Maggie told me. I saw her watching me, noticing my distracted eyes. "Four of them, one of him. They're gonna be okay."

I gave her a tight smile, forcing myself to believe her but still, the nagging fear was worming it's way into the back of my mind.

It only dug deeper at the sound of a distant gunshot.

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(Edited chapter)

Very close to the end of season two now!!!!