Found Book One

Shots

Yelling and a clatter draws me from my original course to the library. I take the nearest door to the courtyard. Instead I'm trapped in an enclosed walkway, Rick and Carl are below. And so are about a hundred walkers.

The small herd busts through the fence and they start shooting. I watch in stunned silence as they kill the walkers in large numbers. The two slowly inch backward to avoid the walkers coming closer.

Soon they have the problem exterminated, I go back inside and out the exit below the walkway. I stay around the corner tactfully so I can listen to them as they work to load up the bodies in a truck.

"So, Elaine?" Rick asks, Carl makes an embarrassed noise at his father. "You like her," Rick suggests.

"I guess," the boy mutters. "I like her smile and her hair and her eyes," Carl gushes. I lean back against the wall, "She reminds me of your mother," Rick says.

I know I should leave but I can't find the strength in my jello-like knees to move. "How?" Carl questions.

"She's strong and she'd do anything for her family," Rick says. I don't think I can blush anymore, "Lori had a bright smile, Elaine's is just as bright as her's," Rick says.

His voice is reminiscent of his wife. Carl's mother. "I remember," Carl says in a voice that's barely audible to me. "You go on and get to bed, I'll finish this," Rick tells his son.

I watch from the shadows as Carl walks past and goes into the large expanse of the prison. "Come on out Elaine," Rick says. I gasp at my presence being known.

I walk out from behind the corner to look at Rick. A sheepish smile ghosts my lips as I turn to face him, "I'm sorry. I know that it was a private conver-"

"I knew you were out here. I saw you on the walkway," he says with a grin. "And it's true what I said," he tells me. I smile at him, "Go on. If I know my son, he didn't go to his room anyway."

When I get to my room Carl is sitting on my bed, "Hey," I say to him. He jumps to his feet and I suddenly realise how small I am compared to him.

His shoulders are wide and his chest is muscled and probably toned, his cheekbones are high like his father's and their eyes are the same brilliant blue. But his complexion and hair color comes from the woman in the picture.

Carl has a good five inches on me and will probably grow more. "Elaine?" he says. I look up at him, "I was at the library," I say suddenly.

He nods but that wasn't what he asked. "Tell me about your mom," I ask him. Carl smiles a little at my request but begins to talk about his mother. Her smile and her eyes and her love for birds and her patients at the hospital.

"The thing I remember most though were these pancakes that she used to make. They were just terrible but she'd make them every Sunday after church because she felt bad for making my dad do all the cooking. Dad always called them 'god-awful' but we ate them anyway."

I cuddle closer to him, "I hope you didn't complain to much," I comment. Carl chuckles, "No I tried not to," he says. 

As he quiets down I listen to the strong pounding of his heart against his ribs. "Can you tell me about your's?" he questions lightly.

I shift, a small movement but he notices and rubs his hand up and down my back as though to soothe me.

"Lily, that was her name. When she and dad were still together we would always have a movie night and it was always the same four movies. One that each of us picked out," I say. I flatten the palm of my hand against his breastbone.

"Fried Green Tomatoes for mom, Deathproof for Daryl, Toystory for my brother Johna, and I always picked a different movie. I hated watching the same one more than once a month."

Carl chuckles at my statement, "But I could always remember the way mom would cry when Ruth died and how she quoted every single line from the movie without skipping a beat."

The tears come suddenly when the thought of Suzan creeps into my mind. "What's wrong?" Carl asks deciding that I've been quiet for too long.

"Uh- Suzan," I say. "She married my mom," I say as an explanation, "She made my mom throw away that book and that movie. Anytime my mom tried to get the book or watch the movie after that she's get the crap beat out of her," Carl's arm tenses slightly under my neck.

"Did she ever-" "Hit me?" I answer for him. He nods, "Yeah she did, broke my nose once, and my ankle," I say. "She mostly used me as her personal ashtray though," I say. My voice breaks at the thought of a hot cigarette against my pale skin.