Carl Grimes and Chandler Riggs Imagines

Carl Grimes: Blue Eyed Boy

You approached the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. However, the gravel underfoot was making the task difficult. You stepped quickly trying to get this over and done with as fast as you possibly could.

Finally, you were across the gravel driveway and safely on the porch. You relaxed a little and up to the door pressing your ear to the smooth wooden door and listened. Usually walkers would sort of stumble around inside even if they weren't actively chasing something but sometimes, they would just stand there. You pulled your head away and glanced around. There weren't any walkers withing sight on the street as far as you could see. You raised your hand slowly and knocked lightly against the door of the house. It was loud enough for something inside to be triggered by the noise but hopefully not loud enough for any walkers in the general vicinity to be attracted by the noise.

You stood there close to the door and waited, if something was inside then it would take a few moments for it to reach the door. You head a low quiet moan come from the other side of the door and a few seconds later you could hear it weakly bashing against the door. You listened for a moment it sounded weak meaning it had likely been inside for a while, perhaps even from the start.

You stood on your tip toes and looked through the small glass panes at the top of the door, you could only see the walkers head but it looked as though it was a little old woman.

You sighed lightly, the old ones always caused a lump to form in your throat. It was mostly because they didn't stand a chance in a world like this, they couldn't run or fight. Your eyes drifted around the dishevelled garden, there were beds of dead flowers. She was probably a gardener back before this and probably had the most beautiful garden on the block, she might still be alive if the world hadn't gone to shit.

You shook you head at the thought of this poor old lady dying alone and afraid in her house as the undead thrashed at the door trying to get inside.

Glancing around the street to make sure that you were still alone you positioned yourself to one side of the door, it opened inwards meaning that you would have a little bit of time to strike the walker as you opened it. Taking a deep breath, you unsheathed your knife and listened to the old lady once more to make sure that it was just here inside. Sure, enough you couldn't hear any movement that didn't sound like her.

Flinging the door open as quickly as you could you stepped into the doorway. The force of the door had knocked the walker off its feet, so it was now sprawled on its back in the hallway like an overturned turtle. You stepped lightly forwards and brought your knife down hard though her eye. She stopped struggling and lay motionless on the ground. You listened closely to make sure that there weren't any other sounds coming from deeper in the house. Satisfied that you were now completely alone you closed the door, looking outside just once more.

There were dead flies littering the floor and brownish smudges along the walls. You glanced down at the walker and saw two old shrivelled cuts down the length of her forearms.

"Poor thing" you spoke aloud your eyes finding a bundle of brown dried blood and fur on the ground.

You didn't even want to think about what that used to be. As you were about to continue into the rest of the house you heard a small thump that sounded as though it had come from upstairs. You froze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as you raised your knife in one hand and moved the other to the gun strapped to your thigh.

The banging sound started again and continued for a little longer this time allowing you to figure out that it was coming from upstairs. Stepping carefully, you started up the stairs unsure whether the walker was trapped in a room or out on the landing.