Stand By You (Carl Grimes)

Prologue: Part 1

I open the freezer pulling out a box of frozen mac n cheese. It makes a thud as the frozen solid interior meets the counter.  Gripping the microwave handle, I jerk it open. I punch in the time- 2 minutes. In the background the tv plays, telling about an outbreak. The news anchor nervously describes the details, occasionally looking around. "I'm hungry." My little brother whines. "I know Peter. It's almost done." I reassure. The microwave beeps alerting us it's finished. Steam wafts through the kitchen, maybe I left it in there too long. I cautiously pull it out, opening the drawer for a fork. "Careful it's hot." I say placing it on the oak table. He fiddles around with the noodles while it cools off. "We don't know how long this will last, so be cautious when outdoors." The anchor describes.

"Scar, what are they talking about?" He asks. I sigh, trying to think of an excuse, which is easy since I'm dealing with a four year old. "Just a sickness that some people are getting. Not here though." I explain. "Can we get it?" He spoons the orange noodles in his tiny mouth. "No, we're fine." I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. For a while I just play around with my necklaces on the couch. A small golden cross, with the words "Faith, Hope, Love" engraved on the metal. The golden heart locket that holds the photo of my mother. My beautiful mother. I remember all the good times we had. All the memories seem to flood my memory. Overtaking all the thoughts I was having.

*Flashback: 1 Year Ago*
"Hey Scar, help me move the cushions over here?" Mother hollers. I stroll over to her, pulling cushions and pillows off the corduroy sofa. Mother assembles a fort, a quite amazing one, considering the objects she had to work with. Mother was always like that. I swear that she could make a staple into a work of art. Never mind giving her paint and a canvas. She could look at something once and create a masterpiece painting. Today was like every other ordinary night. Mom would always come up with something fun to do while dad was away. "Go get Peter, she says putting on the finishing touches. Peter's in his room assembling what I guess is a house out of Legos. "Come on, mom made a fort." I smile. His face lights up at the word 'fort'. I grab his tiny hand, guiding him to the living room. Mom sits inside the fort, with a projector broadcasting psychedelic lights all around. She presses the stereo and our homemade CD plays. We sat there for hours, laughing, dancing and singing at the top of our lungs. Then we all fell asleep watching Toy Story on the couch.

*End of Flashback*
I'm snapped out of my dream state by the sound of Peter's soft voice. "When's dad coming back?" He hops off the chair, prancing to the couch. "Soon, he just needed to go to the store. For urgent supplies." I say. "Urgent?" For a second I forgot about the lack of vocabulary that my baby brother knows. "It means very important." He repeats the word a few times, proud at knowing a new word. It makes me giggle a bit. I try flipping through channels on the tv, but news is broadcasted on every station. I grab a deck of cards off the coffee table to start a game of 'go fish'. For a four year old, Peter seems to have all the luck. He beats me nearly every time. "Go fish." I exclaim, having the large deck of cards, as always. Ring Ring Ring. The phone ring blares through the kitchen into the living room. I place the cards on the carpet, traveling to the kitchen. Peter trails behind me.

I pick up the line, my dads voice on the other end. "Honey?! Honey, are you okay?!" He sounds nervous. "Yeah, dad everything's fine. Peter finished eating, we're just playing." I wonder why he's so worried all of a sudden. "Listen, I'm coming home. Keep the doors locked, stay away from windows. Don't open the door for anyone but me. Keep a kitchen knife on you. Keep your voices down." He sounds so panicked. "Dad is it those things, those monsters on tv?" He pauses. "Yes, sweetie. And if they somehow get in the house, hide. And if you really have to, get out." "Alright, love you." I say. "Love you." And I hear the click of the line hanging up. I pull out a kitchen knife, sticking it in my belt, covering it with my shirt. Returning to the living room I turn off the tv, and the lights. The evening sky shines just the right amount of light to see. I check all doors securing them shut. I return to cards with Peter. "Ok let's continue but whisper." I lower my voice. "Why?" He says in a whisper. "Dad said so." He nods, satisfied with my answer. We finish our game and I look at the clock. He should be here by now. I think. Then in an instant, pounding comes from the door.