↳ it's who we are now...
oc x carl grimes
season 4-7
TW: Mentions of death, gory depictions, suicide, alcohol and drug abuse, language, smoking, violence, depression, and other mature topics.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own or claim to own any of The Walk...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛
When I wake up, my hand is cold and Carl is missing. The whole matter makes me anxious, but the sight of Rick still asleep on the couch comforts me. I just hope Carl hasn't gotten himself into any trouble, which is quite probable, in my opinion.
But it's not like I haven't gotten myself in trouble before, too.
I feel immediately as though it's my unspoken duty to go look for Carl. I'm sure that he'll be angry at me if I do, but I don't care. It would be better if he was mad at me, but still alive.
I lace up my boots as quickly as my sleepy fingers can before checking on my bandage that's been tucked underneath my pant leg all night. The fact that the fabric seemingly hasn't been further stained compared to how it was when Carl had helped clean me up is promising. Underneath that, it looks like the bleeding is at bay, but I'll have to clean it and change the bandage later.
For my makeshift breakfast, I grab a handful of cereal, wash it down with a few gulps of water, and then walk to the window where the blankets and towels are still hung. They're not quite ideal room decor, but they do the trick with keeping us quietly hidden away in here.
Daylight seeps through the corner of the barrier the pieces of draping create. I pull at an edge, peeking outside. Just then, I'm lucky enough to see the tail end of a boy with a sheriff's hat as he jogs down the street.
I gather my pack and attach my knife to my belt. When I'm about to leave through the back door, I notice Rick on the couch. He's sleeping, right? I don't want to think of the other option, so I bend over, pressing my ear to his heart. Even with it nestled deep in his chest, I'm fortunately able to still hear it beating, the labored breaths continuing to puff out. I decide he's good enough on his own for the time being. Anyways, he won't be alone long. The door is wired shut. He'll be fine.
Rick has survived much worse things than being left alone for a few minutes while I go track down his irresponsible son for him.
"You're welcome," I say jokingly to him, even though I'm sure he can't hear me while he's in whatever sort of state right now. I'm sure if he were awake at the moment, he'd laugh at my comment. That's enough to give me peace as I gather my things and get ready to leave through the back door.
The air outside is refreshing. It's much better than the slightly musty scent that fills the house. I round the corner, wading through the knee-high grass. I head for the road, keeping my hand right on my knife handle in the situation that I have to use it. I can even hear Carol's voice now and the teachings she had given me over the use of the weapon.
When I get onto the road, I turn left, the same way Carl went. The street is clear, again, which somewhat worries me. Where the hell are all the walkers? It would almost concern me less if they were all out, jaws snapping ravenously as they stand waiting for a meal.
