Hard Candy [Carl Grimes/The Walking Dead]

One Shot

I wake at a time I judge to be mid to late afternoon, based on the position of the sun. I pop a few Tridents in my mouth and recount what I've been through.

Let's see. I woke at 3 am to find my siblings making a meal out of my mom. I just barely managed to fight them off. Then I got together a little huge survival bag and camped out on the roof, above a bunch more man-eating monsters in the wake of a potentially worldwide zombie overrun.

It would almost be funny if it wasn't true.

Now what was the plan again? I had only looked over the plans briefly. I pull them out of my bag, careful not to crush them. They're pretty straightforward, most of the steps I've already completed. Secure yourself away from zombies, lock all doors and windows, gather together supplies. AND DO NOT GET BITTEN BY THE ZOMBIES. Right. That's the key thing in this. The bites are what spread the sickness.

But where were we supposed to go? I flip through pages. I know we had agreed on a certain place to make it to. Aha. The mall. Decided after watching Dawn of the Dead, a mall seems like the perfect place to go. Unlimited food, clothing and weapons, as well as books, TV and games. But who knows what it's like there, I think. If it's a bad as it is here... I sigh. Maybe I'll stay here for now. Decide what I should really do.

And I try. But I'm just so exhausted still. I eventually just lie down with my headphone covering my ears and block out the world with a Rusko mashup.

I almost don't notice the jeep. It almost passed me by. Thank God I decided I was thirsty and sat up to get a water bottle. I see it coming around the corner and know this might be my only chance of escape.. Thank you, I whisper to no one in particular. Then I stand up and wave my arms in an attempt for it to notice me. I don't want to yell, in the fear of making the zombies notice me. But waving and jumping up and down doesn't seem to be doing anything. The jeep rambled on.

Finally, I see a window go down. A man sticks his head out and yells something to me I don't quite catch. He repeats louder, Hold on.

I nod gratefully. Then I notice the jeep still isn't stopping. Wait, what is he doing, I think frantically. I continue waving, and finally screaming. Still, the jeeps continues its slow pace, gradually picking up speed, until it's disappeared around the corner.

NO! PLEASE GOD, NO! I cry out in frustration. MY ONE SHOT. PLEASE NO. PLEASE. COME BACK!

Unfortunately, it's too late. The zombies have taken full notice of me, and are beginning to climb into the porch. One of them is attempting to climb the drainpipe. I have no more energy. "Go ahead," I say in a whisper, "might as well join my family." And I start crying again, a steady stream of tears soaking the front of my shirt. I tuck my knees up and wrap my arms around them, waiting for death, waiting for God, Allah, Satan, I don't know, anything but waiting to die.

That one zombie actually made it up the drainpipe. I just barely recognize it as Jay, our elderly neighbor a few doors down. His hair is fallen out in clumps, his dentures as rotted as his real teeth probably were. His entire cheek is gone, and maggots are slithering and squirming through the empty space. He's missing an arm, and his rib cage is visible. The smell is putrid. I close my eyes as his remaining hand wraps around my arm, waiting for him to sink his foul teeth into it. I can feel his hot breath on my arm. It's as if it's happening in slow motion. Please just hurry up.

Suddenly, he releases.

Is that it? Am I dead now? I dare to open my eyes. I look down at my arm, which bears a few dirt smudges but luckily no scratches or bites. I'm okay. Then I look over at Jay. To my complete and utter shock, he's slumped facedown in front of me, blood dripping down his neck. I hold my breath and look at his head. I see a neat bullet hole just above the nape of his neck. I'm more puzzled than relieved until I hear what sounds like gunshots. Crawling almost to he edge of the roof, I look down and see a number of men and women gunning down the zombies. They have incredibly good aim.

"Hey!" I call. "HEY!"

One of them, the youngest there it seems, hears me. He puts his gun back in a holster on his leg and calls to a man a few yards away. The man, the same man from the jeep, hands his gun to a younger woman beside him and jogs over to my house. He yells something out but I can't make it out. He points to the tree right in front of the roof. I understand at once.

"You want me to jump?"

"Yes!"

I look over the tree. It's over seventy years old, tall and sturdy, with thick, strong branches and big green leaves. It's no more than a yard and a half away, but it's still a big jump. However, the ground is less than 12 feet beneath me. Here goes nothing, I think, and I jump, grabbing onto the first branch I land on. I did it. I quickly shimmy down the trunk and run out into the street with the others.

The man raises his gun at me.

What? You just saved me... I'm terrified. I'm no match for a man with a gun and great aim. The others have finished killing the zombies in the street and have now turned their attention to me and the man. The boy with the gun on his leg looks fearful, and so do the others. One of them, a young Asian man, takes a few tentative steps towards us. "Rick..." he starts. The other man brushes him aside. His eyes on me, he says in a low whisper,

"Don't move."

He cocks the gun and I close my eyes.