𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐡 | 𝐂. 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

𝟤𝟣

Carl Grimes walked ahead of his father, glaring ahead while his father struggled to catch up to his pace. The boy had been quiet and had grown colder the farther they left the prison. "Carl," his father called out, clutching his thigh. "Slow down", he urged, the boy ignoring him as they continued their trek on the dirt road. "Carl stop!" Rick yelled out, this time with more urgency, causing the boy to stop, but not turn around. He waited for his father to catch up. "We need to stay together. We gotta find a place, food, supplies." Once Rick caught up to the boy, he took a moment to catch his breath, struggling to breathe through his broken ribs while looking down at the boy. After a brief moment, he placed his bandaged hand on his shoulder, getting his attention. "Hey." Carl slowly began to turn around. "we're gonna be..." Rick had cut himself off upon seeing the boy glaring at him, obvious Carl at this point could care less about anything his father had to say.

He simply stared at the boy for a moment, swallowing and proceeding to remove his hand from his shoulder. Carl took this as a sign to walk off, leaving Rick to stand there alone for a moment and then proceed to limp after him. After a bit of walking, the two stumbled into a roadside restaurant by the name of Joe & Joe Jr.'s Barbecue Shack. Nothing but abandoned motorcycles littered the deserted parking lot which made it easier for the two to approach the door. Carl stood in front of the door, holding his gun while Rick stood to the side. "Wait outside," he ordered to the boy, holding his Colt Python in his hand. "Okay? Keep watch."

"You keep watch," Carl fired back, causing the man to squint his eyes at him over his response. "You can barely stand, I'm not going to let you go in there alone."

"Excuse me?"

"We've done this before. I'm gonna help you clear it." Carl raised his gun to the green door. "You should just let me do it myself." He eyed the door and then his father, signaling to the male he wouldn't be talked out of his decision. Clenching his jaw for a moment, Rick licked his teeth with his mouth closed as he looked away for a moment. He grabbed the doorknob. "Let's go." Rick pushed the squeaking door open, the two immediately holding their weapons up for any unexpected walkers that might've been lingering in the shack. The two checked either side of the dark shack, holding their guns high, ready to fire in case of any unexpected walker or walkers. "Kitchen's clear," Rick announced in a whisper, his voice strained while Carl pushed against an ajar door that creaked quietly as he scanned the bar, holding his gun up, ready to fire at any unexpected walkers. Rick followed suit, their eyes moving to the bar that was left desecrated with chairs piled high, blocking the doorway to another room.

A walker snarled as it walked through the dark doorway causing Carl to immediately raise his gun towards the creature. "I can get it from here."

"No," Rick ordered, causing Carl to glance over at him. "No, it's weak," he muttered as he reached for his axe. "I'll draw it out." Carl scanned a nearby table, picking up a piece of paper that read:

Please do what I couldn't

-Joe Jr.

"Stay back." Carl looked up at the snarling creature, setting the paper aside as Rick grunted, disrupting the stack of chairs that blocked the walker from reaching them. He backed up as one chair fell towards him, freeing the walker as it made its way towards them. Rick immediately slammed his axe into the head, the weapon getting stuck in the skull while Carl backed up, raising his gun at the creature as he watched his injured father struggle to pull free and keep the walker free with his free hand. The walker just stared menacingly at Rick, its arms dangling at its side. "Damn it," Rick grunted in frustration over his lack of luck at freeing the weapon from the skull. He glanced at his son, reading his mind, but it was too late. "Don't." Carl fired, killing the walker as the bullet hit its skull. Rick's body moved with the walker as it fell to the ground, letting the axe stay in the skull as he stood up again, turning to his son. "I said not to."