Who We Are | TWD

.051

The weight of Carl's limp body is thrown onto me. Without the anticipation of I need, I'm not ready. I crumble to the ground underneath him, unable to feel the pain of it all. "No!" I scream, not caring about how loud I am or how raw it makes my throat. All I can feel is the boy I care about so much, unconscious in my arms, maybe even dead right now if the bullet reached his brain, while his warm blood seeps into the sheet covering my clothes.

He said your name, I tell myself. That can't mean nothing. He's still in there.

"No!" Rick yells.

"Help him!" I cry as he bends down to pick Carl up. He grunts in the efforts, but once his body is removed from mine, I feel even heavier than before. I notice his hat had tumbled off his head in the fall, so grab it, knowing it's not something he'd be okay with leaving behind. A walker reaches for me, but I refuse it's wanting to come close to me, grabbing my knife and sinking the blade deep into its skull. I wipe the sweat from my cheek, but I can feel Carl's blood smearing all over my skin. I want to beg the universe to just let it all stop, but I can't. I have to fight.

I hear Michonne in front of Rick, her blade slashing the walkers as her breathing grows heavier and heavier. Tears rush down my face in heavy streams as I put down any walker I can. I duck from the ones I can't, slinking through the masses as cunningly as I can. It all feels like a dream, or a nightmare, rather. The point is, none of it seems real and I can't pull myself away from that thought. I focus my best on hugging Carl's hat to my chest, holding a piece of him with me, as I fight, not really for my own life, but for his. It's only right. He's the person that made me want to keep living to begin with. As I kill another walker, I don't think I'll be able to go on without him . . .

Don't think that way, a voice says in the back of my head. It's not mine, however. It's my dad's and it sounds so real. I haven't heard it in years. Another onslaught of tears sting my eyes when the realization that I had forgotten what he even sounded like hits me. It feels like he's with me right now, holding my hand as I fight tooth and nail, my muscles burning and screaming in pure pain as I remove my knife time and time again after powerfully driving it into another skull.

I sniffle, feeling my dad with me. He has to be. He's fighting with me, just like we should've done after that night in the dark, all the way up until now. I know he's gone, but I can feel his energy and I know he wants Carl to live just as much as I do.

I finally see the infirmary come into view as I kick a walker in the stomach to my side, letting the body drop to the ground, just as Ron's did just moments ago. The front door to the infirmary opens, flooding the night air with light. I take down one last walker, watching the body fall into a bush, before I run inside after the others.

As soon as Michonne sees me come through the threshold, she's slamming the door shut. "This is a gunshot?" Denise asks, following Rick towards the gurney where he sets down his son.

"Handgun. Close range," Michonne replies breathlessly.

"Please save him," Rick mumbles, stepping back from the gurney. I don't know what else to do, so walk up beside him, wrapping my arm around Rick as the tears course down my cheeks. He holds me back, neither of us caring about the guts coating our clothes or the fresh blood on our skin as we collectively sob. I want to look away, but all I can focus on is Carl.

People are talking around me, but I can't register a thing that's being said. My attention is on Carl until he is blocked from my view by Denise and the others that are helping him. Michonne comes back towards Rick and I, coaxing the sheets off of our bodies. When she comes to take mine off, I shake my head, not wanting to move, but she helps pull the fabric over my head before tossing it away. I clutch Carl's hat to my heart, knowing it's the only thing keeping me grasping onto him. I hear a faint call come from Denise asking Michonne to help with something, so she trails away from us again. I look over for Rick, but he's left my side, parting the curtain to see outside. His hands tremble as he grabs his hatchet and moves to the door handle.