The Girl He Forgot (Book 2)

Chapter 8 - Out Of Time

The early morning sun lit the backs of my eyelids as I slept. I'd been plagued with dreams that had caused me to wake up in a bed that was damp with sweat. No, they weren't my usual dreams of blood and monsters or recollections of a past I'd rather not think about. They were dreams about a boy in a sheriff hat and, though I was completely alone in my bedroom, my cheeks burned a bright rose red...

I hurried out of bed and jumped straight into a cool shower. I quickly towel dried and threw on some fresh clothes and gear. And by the time I'd finishing stripping the bed sheets and tucking new ones on, my rose red cheeks had finally simmered down.

I sighed, stuffing some supplies into my rook sack. I wasn't sure when exactly everyone would get back, but I readied myself just in case they returned early. I wasn't sure that the assault Carl's dad was leading on the Saviours would end well... I wasn't sure that when, or even if, they returned Carl would be in any frame of mind to actually go shooting... that depended on who survived. At least, however, it would give him something to think about and to look forward to in the meantime, until he knew the fate of his loved ones.

I looked over at my clock; the hands read 11am. They should be back by now... or at least whoever managed to survive should have returned with news. If everyone's ok, then Carl should be coming around any-

Bang, bang, bang!

My breath hitched before I realised it was just the front door. I slung my rucksack over my shoulder and hurried downstairs.

On the other side was Carl. He wore his sheriff hat, the sun causing the rope atop its brim to gleam a brilliant gold despite the battered state of the rest of it. He carried a satchel on one shoulder, which I'd imagined held similar supplies to mine, and a large riffle slung round the other. I tried to read his expression, but it was as blank as fresh paper.

"Oh good, you're ready" said Carl, eying the bag over my own shoulder and the boots on my feet "c'mon let's go". 

Before I could ask how his dad was or anything about how the assault went, he was speeding off down the porch steps.

I sighed frustratedly and pulled the front door shut behind me.

"How'd your dad and the others get on with the Saviours?" I managed to quickly ask when I caught up to him.

He shrugged. "No idea" he mumbled. 

We rounded the corner and began shuffling between the two houses. I got the feeling he was being evasive for some reason and so decided to press further.

"Did you not ask?".

"Ask who?".

"Your dad, Michonne, whoever made it back this morning". I was growing more and more impatient the greater the lengths Carl was going to in order to avoid answering the question.

"Oh, no one's back yet" he finally admitted and casually too, having known full well what I'd been asking about right from the start.

I stopped.

"What?" I asked, flatly.

He turned around to face me. He motioned his hands; a questioning look shot across his hardened face as if to ask 'why have you stopped?'.

"We were supposed to wait till they returned..." I said, staring in disbelief at the boy ahead of me. "Don't you want to be home for when they get back?".

He shrugged again. "Not really... dad said he might not be back first thing anyway– if the Saviours have supplies, he's gunna raid them."

"Ok but-"