Summary: Carl begins to realise some unfavourable things about his father. Unbeknownst to them, a dark presence is fast catching up to them.
CW: Physical violence towards a minor. It isn't written graphically or explicitly but the implications are there all the same.
Missed Carl a bit so here ya go!
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ONE WEEK AGO
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On their way back to the house, joking over crazy cheese and candy, Carl and Michonne both startled and drew their pistol and sword at a loud gunshot nearby. It came from the house. And another. Before either of them could even react, they saw Carl's father sprinting towards them, drenched in sweat and hissing at them both to run as he snatched Carl by the arm at a rough drag.
"Dad, wait, what are you—"
"Rick? Where's Oliver?"
"Shh! Run! Go, go, go!"
"What happened?"
"Dad!"
"Rick!"
"They got him." Carl's father's face was pouring in not only sweat but tears. "They got him, and we need to go now or they'll get you, too."
Adrenaline made the next several panicked minutes go by very quickly. Carl kept trying to stop and convince them to go back for Oliver. Michonne, too, offered to go back alone and meet them somewhere. But Carl's father just said the same thing. "They got him. They got him. They'll get you, too."
They didn't slow down until they were long out of the neighbourhood and following the nearby rail line north. They were still reeling when they came across a hand-painted sign, calling all survivors to travel to the end of the tracks at a welcoming community called Terminus. They stopped by it to catch their breath.
Carl sat on the tracks and tried to force back the tears. There was a pit in his chest and it was growing wider and wider by the moment. He could barely breathe.
"What happened back there, Rick?" Michonne demanded. "Exactly."
Distracted, Carl's father cursed, looking around, anywhere but their eyes. "I lost my bandage..."
"Rick..."
"We need'a keep moving," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We follow the tracks — to this place. It's all we got."
He started walking without waiting for her to agree, but took under Carl's arm and pulled him to his feet. They didn't talk. They didn't need to. They'd done this before. Carl knew the rules.
He didn't look back.
He kept walking.
The days went on, and each morning a little before sunrise, the three of them woke up cold and hungry and tired — Carl and Michonne would begin putting away their limited camping supplies, except for their tools to make a fire, and meanwhile Carl's father would go off to check his snares. Depending on whether he returned with anything to slaughter or not —usually not— Carl and Michonne would light a fire to cook what had been caught or pack away the rest of their supplies while trying not to focus on how hungry they felt. They rationed any food they had, ate if they could, and within a half hour they were back on the tracks and continuing on their way towards Terminus.
While walking the tracks today, Carl's father stepped off the rail line unexpectedly at a crossroad, his eyes on the desolate town streets ahead.
"What're you thinking?" Michonne asked.
YOU ARE READING
Stale M&M's (recently plagiarized as "Sweet Tooth") The Walking Dead Fanfiction
FanficIF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR "SWEET TOOTH" WITH THE SAME STORY WORD FOR WORD (except the protagonist's name was Jasper) THE REASON IT HAS DISAPPEARED RECENTLY FROM THIS SITE IS BECAUSE WHAT YOU READ WAS STOLEN FROM ME AND UPLOADED HERE WITHOUT MY PERMISSIO...
