midnight in the garden of eden - carl grimes

II

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ii.

glass menagerie

"all animals are equal, but some are more equal than others"

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"You... You wear walker skins?"

"What's a walker?"

"The dead. Those things."

"Oh, yeah. Yes. I mean, we do. After a while, you just learn to ignore the smell. You become grateful for it, actually. Smelling like death keeps you alive out there."

"We've had to do something similar before. We didn't wear their skin but we mashed their guts on some sheets to get through a horde. It works... It's pretty smart. Don't know why they don't do something like that every time they go out."

I lean against the cool brick, gripping my shoulder, the accidental wound from my own blade still a piercing pain. The blood has dried at least. "How long have you lived here?"

"Only a couple weeks. I came here from another place to apprentice under the blacksmith."

"There's more places like this?"

"Yeah... There's a few." He replies dubiously and I must remember my place here. I am a prisoner, a possible enemy.

"I just can't believe places like this still exist." I try to smooth my intention, make it clear that I'm not trying to weasel information from him, that I'm only curious. "Walls can only keep you safe for so long. Everything eventually falls to the dead."

He ponders this a moment. "I disagree."

"This land. This earth. The air we breathe. It all belongs to them now. It's only a matter of time. It's fine if you disagree, but it's that kind of thinking—thinking nothing bad will happen—is what leads to undoing."

"It's not that I don't think anything bad will happen. Bad stuff has already happened. I mean, I've seen some of the absolute worst shit that I can't even say out loud. But I know we will come through it. Each time. Stronger and smarter than before."

Now, it is my turn to ponder. I wish I had been given an opportunity to live this way. Well, not this way. Not in a cell like a rabid animal. But in a community. With a home. And a bed. And a family. I wasn't given that kind of life. I wasn't given much of anything at all. "What's your family like?" The question escapes me before I can stop it, my voice trembling.

"I have a sister. Judith. My mom died giving birth to her, near the beginning of everything. It was bad... how she died. I was just a kid at the time. But we have Michonne now. She and my dad, they have a son together. RJ... Mich has kind of been the mom I didn't realize I still needed." He pauses, like he's weighing something. "You, uh, you met her."

I blink, remembering the fierce woman with the dark dreadlocks. "That was Michonne?"

He almost laughs, but it's more of a huff. "She's nice. Usually. And funny, too. You'd like her, probably. Under different circumstances."

"I wish circumstances were different," I murmur, though I'm not sure I even mean for him to hear it. But the silence between us is so heavy that I know he does. "What about your dad? Or is he...?"