Alice was not worried of the unknown. She was worried of what she already knew. She was worried of the promises that the new people were making to her-the ones bringing the people of a fallen Woodbury into their own settlement. The girl felt sorry t...
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C A R L
CARL GRIMES KNEW THAT today was going to be a day he'd never forget. He even awoke with the notion. A decision propelled forward by the lack of a promise in time. Nothing to stop him. The thought crossing his mind, just a few days ago, and developing into a plausible reality. Everything had fallen into place, an opportunistic plan that would most definitely change the trajectory of his life.
Though Carl longed for such a change, there was no doubt in his mind that he was content exactly where he was; riding shotgun alongside the girl who was always behind the wheel. Not a care in the world that he went hungry due to most of his allotted rations of food being left atop the gritty pavement, just outside of the pumps at the gas station.
The two ventured outside of the walls, on behalf of a man who consumed the other half of the boy's thoughts, ever since the second he laid an eye on him. Alice, of course, being the primary captivation upon first sight.
He remembered the day he first saw her.
Disgust dripping from his tongue as he begged the question as to what the people of Woodbury were doing within their walls—an escort undeserved. The scowling boy watched people trickle down the steps of the armed bus. Once used to deliver children to school, then being repurposed to relocate refugees. It was like he almost didn't spot the girl that readily stepped onto the pavement. He only noticed how hard he was staring.
The sudden, gut-wrenching discomfort in the realization. It was as if Carl Grimes didn't discover her, in that moment, but instead found himself out.
He had always been watching her.
"Mine, of course." Carl insisted. "Maybe if you saw yourself the way that I see you, you'd..."
"I'd what?"
"You'd think of yourself as something worth watching."
The two were bickering about the children's book lazily resting at the tip of Carl's boots. Something about birds and insects. Alice was nifty like that, always reading for knowledge over pleasure. It killed her to waste such valuable time on arbitrary things. Carl had long since decided that he was done wasting time.
Alice sighed. "I guess this is the first time I've slowed down enough to take a peek."
"Do you like what you see?" Carl passed his thumb along the faint scars running along the insides of her fingers. A lasting impression due to her attempt at notching guns stolen from Oceanside. Her other hand was not as free—not as gentle—tightly curled around the wheel. The tenderness was reserved for his skin.
