follow you into the dark - carl grimes

XI

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xi.

chateau
"is it a dream or is it all in the past?"

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I'm pulling Carl up and out of bed before he's even awake. He makes a sound of surprise, stumbling in a tangle of my feet with his on the plush green carpet, and my hand immediately goes to cover his mouth.

"Someone's here." I tell him, then I take him by the elbow and drag him into the walk-in closet. It takes a moment for my sight to adjust and I'm nearly startled out of my skin at the outline of a figure at the end of the small, crammed room. It takes a moment for me to realize it is just a pristine World War II era bomber suit, suspended from the rack, complete with a black gas mask. The closet is full of period accurate clothing, preserved and curated. I scoff. History nerds with money to burn.

I release my grip on Carl as he tries to settle his breathing, his racing heart. I feel a little bad about the harsh wake up call but it was necessary.

We stand in silence, listening.

"We'll have to lay low here until the snow stops." One says, a gruff voice with thick accent, muffled through the walls and doors and clothes hanging around us. "I ain't built for weather like this."

"We've covered enough ground today." Says the other, then there's the sound of the couch wheezing under the weight of a tired body sinking into it.

"Sharon." Carl whispers and I quickly shush him, but he continues anyways. "Sharon, I—"

"—We need to keep quiet." I tell him hurriedly, barely speaking audibly. I am trying to think of an escape plan, anything to not have to murder anymore people, especially if these two guys were nothing but innocent travelers. We had to get out unseen, quickly.

The first one speaks again, this time hesitantly. "I know this might be somethin' you ain't wantin' to hear, but I think it's about time we circle back-"

"-No." The word comes out harshly. "No. We can't just—No."

"Rick—"

Carl is suddenly moving forward and I try to grab him but he slips from my fingers. "It's my dad." The thick emotion behind the words, and the words themselves, stop me immediately.

Shit.

I retreat further into the closet, mind racing.

"Dad!" The boy calls out, moving out of the room and into the next. "Dad!"

"Carl?!"

I fulfilled my promise, this journey is over. I am no longer indebted to Carl. He is with his family again. I could just leave. Through the window and back up to my mountain. Spend the rest of eternity haunting my woods, just like I was created to do. I clench my jaw and screw my eyes shut tight. I need to go. That's what I'm supposed to do.

I hear Carl and his father collide in a bone-crushing hug. A choked sob. An apology. They rejoice in being reunited.

"What did he do to you?" The other man asks after this has gone on a moment.

"...I can't—both my eyes... Are... Yeah." Carl can't finish, he chokes on the words.

"It's okay, son. It's alright." His father, Rick, reassures him. "How did you manage to get here?"

"I had help." Carl's voice sounds closer and I realize it's because he's approaching the bedroom. "From a friend. Sharon?" He calls me friend, he calls my name, feeling his way across the wall.